Your bridegroom is six feet under in the frozen timber, Clara, and crying won't buy your fare back to Missouri.
The house trembled around me, the guttural groans of the earth growing louder. The black, fetid water still oozed from the pump, a testament to the horror stirring beneath us.
I had to move. I couldn’t let Elijah sacrifice Thomas. Not now. Not after everything.
As I crept towards the parlor, muffled cries drifted up from beneath the floorboards.
Thomas.
My heart seized. Elijah was already down there. The deadline was at dawn. He was doing it.
I rushed to the parlor, ignoring the growing tremors that threatened to knock me off my feet. I threw back the threadbare rug that covered the cellar hatch.
The heavy oak beams Thomas had described were gone. The hatch, a thick wooden door, stood ajar, revealing a gaping black abyss and a rough set of stone steps disappearing into the darkness.
A faint, sickly yellow light emanated from below. The air from the cellar was colder, denser, smelling of damp earth and something acrid.
I didn’t hesitate. I grabbed the flickering oil lamp from the parlor mantle and descended the crumbling stone steps.
The cellar was a crude, unfinished space, with packed earth walls and a low, timbered ceiling. And in the center, directly over what I knew was the sealed well, was Thomas.
He was tied to a heavy wooden chair, his wrists and ankles bound with thick ropes. His eyes, wide with terror, were fixed on something beyond him. Tears streamed down his face.
Elijah stood over him, a cruel smile on his lips, holding a coil of rope. He hadn’t seen me yet.
“No, Elijah! Please!” Thomas whimpered, struggling against his bonds. The chair scraped against the earth floor.
Elijah ignored him, his gaze fixed on the well cover, a massive, circular stone slab that covered the ancient shaft. It looked slick with dark moisture.
“Almost time, boy,” Elijah muttered, his voice echoing eerily in the confined space. “The entity demands its tithe. And you, Thomas, will be its final payment.”
He turned, his eyes gleaming with a manic fervor. “This silver, boy, will make me rich beyond your wildest dreams! Richer than Silas ever was. And all it cost was one worthless life.”
Thomas whimpered again, his head shaking violently.
Elijah adjusted the lamp, its light flickering across the stone well cover. “The seven-day window closes at dawn, Thomas. The territorial deadline. The entity knows. It hungers.”
He leaned closer to Thomas, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper. “Your life will unlock the ancient vein. It’s a small price to pay for such boundless wealth.”
My blood ran cold. He was going to sacrifice Thomas to the supernatural entity in the well. To fulfill his dark pact before the territorial authorities could discover the voided land claim.
I gripped the oil lamp, its brass casing cold against my trembling fingers. I had to stop him.
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