Written in the Stars(30)
“Thanks.” Elle tugged at the skirt. “It has pockets.”
A man with a thick handlebar mustache approached. “Lowell party of four for the escape room?”
Brendon stepped forward and patted his pockets. “Yeah, I’ve got the tickets—wait.”
“I have them. You asked me to pick them up from will call, remember?” Darcy passed them to the man whose nametag read Jim. He gave the stack a cursory glance before tucking them away inside the inner pocket of his blazer. “Follow me and mind the stairs.” He sighed heavily, mustache twitching when he caught sight of Cherry’s heels. “Terrain gets a touch uneven.”
Down a rickety set of wooden stairs, the man led them into a hall, lit by several flickering incandescent bulbs. The air was cool and damp and a little musty, earthy even. Moss—or maybe that was mildew—grew on the gray brick walls, concentrated around the grout lines. Somewhere, a pipe was leaking, the steady drip, drip lending to the overall vibe of abandoned decay.
“Ever been to the Underground before?” Jim asked.
Everyone shook their heads.
“Quick bit of history before I give you the backstory for your one-of-a-kind escape room experience. In 1889, thirty-one blocks were destroyed in the Great Seattle Fire. The buildings were rebuilt and the streets were regraded a couple stories higher than what was previously street level, a strategic decision to prevent flooding from Elliott Bay.”
Jim gestured around them to where the hall branched to the left and right. “Seattle Underground, as we now know it, is a network of passageways that existed at ground level prior to the regrade. For a time, pedestrians and business owners continued to use these underground sidewalks, but that all changed in 1907 when the city condemned the Underground out of fear of the bubonic plague. As a result, portions of the Underground were left to deteriorate. Opium dens, speakeasies, gambling halls, brothels, and doss houses cropped up, operating in the literal shadows of society, right beneath everyone’s feet.”
If the walls down here could talk, she could only imagine the sorts of seedy, scary stories they’d tell.
“Which brings us to your escape room.” Jim set off down the hall to the left at a quick clip, waving for them to follow. When Cherry stumbled on a loose cobblestone, Darcy rolled her eyes.
“Is there a theme? Or are we just trapped in the Underground trying to escape?” Elle asked.
Jim smoothed his mustache with a finger. “Is there a theme? she asks.” He stopped in front of a nondescript door, wooden and without windows or special markings. “The year is 1908. Each of you were unfortunate enough to lose family during the reconstruction that followed the Great Fire, prompting you to seek closure by communing with your loved ones via a séance.”
Ever the skeptic, Darcy snorted.
Elle couldn’t pass up the opportunity to tease. “Psst. Your Capricorn is showing.”
“Shh.” Darcy’s cheeks turned pink in the dim, flickering light of the Underground. “That doesn’t even make sense.”
“You’re cute when you blush,” Elle blurted.
Brendon grinned, looking awfully smug as he rocked back on his heels. Darcy simply stared, blush deepening to the point where her freckles disappeared.
The room was cool and drafty but still, Elle’s whole body flushed at her failed brain-to-mouth filter.
Jim continued his spiel, “You were referred to a spiritualist by the name of Madame LeFeaux who operates out of one of the illustrious gambling halls in Seattle’s Underground. Under the cover of dark, you convene. Madame LeFeaux begins to conduct the séance, and a foreboding chill settles over the already cool space, an impossible breeze blowing through the enclosed room extinguishing the lights. Someone shrieks.” Jim’s pale blue eyes bounced between the three women. Elle narrowed her eyes at the assumption.
“Me.” Brendon pointed at his chest. “I’d totally scream.”
Darcy smiled fondly at her brother.
“Out of nowhere, the lights return. You blink, eyes readjusting, and note that Madame LeFeaux is missing.”
“Perhaps because she was a con artist,” Darcy muttered. Such a skeptic.
“You’re trapped inside the séance room and the spirits Madame LeFeaux called upon are angry to have been disturbed. You’ll have one hour to find the key that opens the door—the proper door—that will lead you out of the Underground and to safety. But be careful—there are other doors. Choose wisely, or you won’t reach the street, but instead one of the dangerous, illegally run gambling halls. And if you don’t escape within an hour?” Jim arched a bushy white brow and let the question hang for a moment, building the suspense. He turned the knob on the door and ushered them inside. “You’ll be at the mercy of the spirits who grow stronger by the second.”
Inside the simple, stone-walled room was a large round table covered in a floor-length tablecloth. A crystal ball sat atop its surface. Several chairs were overturned, further setting the scene. Against one of the walls rested a mirror, sturdy and with an ornately carved wood frame.
“Remember.” Jim paused dramatically. This was so campy it hurt. Elle loved it. “Whether you’re a skeptic or a believer, there’s more than smoke and mirrors at play. Good luck, and your time starts . . . now.”
Jim shut the door, locking them inside.