Clint cracked his knuckles and squatted down by the door on the side with the hinges. He grasped the wheel handle and turned it to the right. It didn’t budge.

Valmont cleared his throat. “I think righty tighty, lefty loosey is the standard.”

“Forgot about that.” Clint grasped the wheel again and turned left. It gave slowly, metal screeching against metal like it hadn’t been moved in years. After turning the wheel one full revolution, something clicked and the hatch popped up half an inch. Clint tugged on the handle, pulling it open like a trap door.

Unconsciously, Bryn and the others moved closer to the opening.

And then the stench hit them. It was like nothing Bryn had ever experienced before. A rotten foulness, like spoiled meat that had been left to putrefy in the hot sun. The foulness crawled up Bryn’s nasal passages and down her throat. Gagging, she doubled over, clasping her hand over her mouth to keep from vomiting. Dry heaving, Valmont grabbed Bryn around the waist and dragged her backward toward the house smacking his hand over his own nose and mouth.

Ivy turned away and vomited. Clint stumbled over to her, gasping for air. He shifted, grabbed her in his right talon, and launched himself straight up into the sky. When Ivy stopped retching, she shifted and glided down near the far side of the house.

Miss Enid used her wind to blow the smell away from them out into the forest. Once he stopped dry heaving, Mr. Stanton created a twister and directed it at the metal door, sliding it underneath and lifting it up until it slammed shut.

Clint and Ivy shifted back. He wrapped his arms around his girlfriend. “Worst treasure hunt, ever,” he shouted.

Bryn laughed and then gagged. The foul smell was still in her nasal passages. She closed her eyes and focused on heat, igniting the fire inside of her. The welcome taste of smoke crawled up the back of her throat, neutralizing the vile smell. She exhaled smoke from her nostrils to kill off any lingering stench.

Valmont leaned in and inhaled the smoke. He must have understood what she was doing.

Once she felt better, Bryn let the fire die down and made eye contact with Valmont.

He looked stricken. “Something terrible happened down there. It happened on my land. Behind my house.”

“From the smell, whatever is down there is beyond our help.” Mr. Stanton approached them. “We don’t have the proper equipment to investigate. I’m going to make a few calls to see who can help us.”

“Whatever happened down there wasn’t your fault,” Bryn said. “If your root cellar is part of a series of tunnels, they could have opened the door from the inside. There wasn’t much dirt on top of it…not more than an inch. Or, they could have turned back around the way they came.”

Without discussing it, they all went inside and sat at the table or on the couch. Miss Enid came in last. She went to the refrigerator and grabbed cans of ginger ale, passing them out to everyone.

Bryn sipped her drink. Valmont turned his can around and around on the table, like he was trying to figure something out. Even if he’d been here, rather than guarding her at the Institute, there was no way he would have known what was going on under his backyard. Saying that to him wouldn’t make the situation better. Maybe they could talk about it later.

Mr. Stanton spoke to someone on Valmont’s house phone. When he was finished, he hung up. “I’ve alerted the Directorate, and they are sending people who are trained to deal with…this type of situation.”

There were people who investigated rotting bodies for a living? That would be one horrifically sucky job. Thank goodness someone could do it. She’d barely managed to keep from throwing up. Speaking of throwing up. “Ivy, are you okay?” Bryn asked.

“Yes.” Ivy’s voice sounded rough. “That smell, it just hit me…I…I’m not sure I want to know what’s down there.”

Clint put his arm around her shoulders. “I want to know why Black dragon magic was used to keep someone from finding the handle to the door.”

Valmont stood and walked over to the kitchen sink, looking out the window above it. “Is there some way to determine when the spell to hide the handle was placed on the hatch?”

“I don’t believe so,” Miss Enid said.

Fifteen minutes later, the sound of a car pulling up the gravel drive had them all on their feet. Someone knocked on the front door. Strange. Why would the Directorate knock? They normally barged in and did what they wanted. Valmont answered the door. A Red guard Bryn didn’t recognize held a clipboard out to Valmont.

“You are the registered owner of this parcel of land. I’ll need your signature before I can proceed.”

Valmont accepted the pen and studied it like he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do with it. “What am I signing?”

“This gives the Directorate permission to investigate any and all leads necessary on your property.”

Should he argue? Bryn didn’t want the Directorate bulldozing Valmont’s cabin for no good reason. And Ferrin was just the type of vindictive asshat who might do something like that.

“Whatever it takes.” Valmont scribbled his name on the document.

“You can leave and go to another location or you can stay inside the cabin,” the Red said. “You may not enter the backyard while we’re working. Does everyone understand?”

They all nodded. Bryn nodded, too. It wasn’t like she wanted to go near the hatch again, but why couldn’t she go out there if she wanted to?

“Then we’ll get to work.” The Red headed back to his car.

Valmont closed the door.

“Do they not want us to see what they find?” Bryn asked.

“I’m quite sure you won’t want to see what they find, but given the level of decomposition, there may be biohazards,” Mr. Stanton said. “That’s why they’re being so strict.”

That answered her question. Morbid curiosity drove her to watch out the back window as men in hazmat suits opened the hatch, set up a pulley system, and descended into the root-cellar-from-hell.

Bryn couldn’t stop formulating theories about what grisly remains the men might find. Maybe an animal had wandered into one of the tunnels and been unable to find its way out. That thought was horrifying enough, much less the idea of dragons or humans being trapped, underground, unable to escape.

Approaching footsteps sounded. Bryn glanced over her shoulder, knowing who it would probably be. Yep. Valmont approached and stood behind her. He put his arm around her waist and pulled her back a bit so she leaned against him. “See anything yet?”

“No. They haven’t come back up.”

“I keep trying to come up with a best-case scenario for this situation,” he said, “and I’ve got nothing.”