“My lord, we heard her!”

Manning and John came running up to him.

“Where?” Gideon asked, his heart in this throat.

“Back up at the house. Simmons was standing near the hole in the Abbey floor, and he heard her. We yelled, and she answered. Just her.”

Oh, thank the good Lord. Gideon staggered, accepting Clarke’s bracing hand before he fell out of sheer relief. Together, they struggled up the narrow cliff path. Heedless of how he looked to the other men, he ran across the grounds and into the house like a madman.

“Amelia?” he called down into the pit.

“Gideon!” Her voice was a little hollow as it echoed through the vast space below their feet.

Tears blurred his vision as he got down on his hands and knees. “Are you all right? Where is the golem?”

“It’s dead, Gideon. I destroyed the chem.”

Stunned, he stared down at the dark. Was it his imagination or was the touch of white her face?

“My lord, we have ropes, but they’re too short,” Manning said. “We are tying them together, and thought we would secure a lantern to the end so we can see her better.”

“Yes, do it. But make sure those knots are secure,” he ordered, glad someone had kept their head.

Good lord, Amelia had destroyed the chem. She had single-handedly slain the monster—without his help!

“We’re lowering a lamp,” he called down, pushing his astonishment and misgivings to the back of his mind.

The lamp in question was thrust into his hand, and he lowered it down himself. It bobbed at the end of his tether, lighting the rough brick walls that formed the basement of the old ruin beneath them.

A flurry of white moved toward the glow, growing brighter the closer it came to the source of illumination.

“Amelia!” She really was all right. In fact, she might have been smiling up at him as she took the lamp and grasped the handle in her hand.

“Get more rope,” he called out, eyeing the jagged edges of the floor. What if they frayed the rope? “And blankets,” he yelled behind him.

Feet pounded away to obey his orders, but Amelia called out to him before they got too far.

“Gideon, I think there’s a way out to the beach from down here. I can see a bit of it through a gap in a cavern adjoining this one. I can even feel the wind!”

If they could break through the wall, it would be much safer than hauling her through the hole in the Abbey floor. He didn’t even know if she could tie a proper knot to secure around herself. “We’ll go down there,” he decided. “Which direction is it in?”

Amelia held the lantern up to illuminate her arms better and pointed.

“Go. Wait at the gap. I’ll be right there,” he promised.

“Hurry!”

Calling all the men to him, Gideon and Clarke searched the shoreline for a break in the stone walls that would lead them to the cavern where Amelia was.

Worried when he couldn’t hear her, Gideon was about to send someone to rouse the local magistrate. He would insist on having every able-bodied man join the search.

A shout went up, and he and Clarke rushed forward.

“Gideon!” Amelia’s white fingers almost glowed against the unrelenting darkness of the stone around them. They were poking out of a small gap the width of his hand.

He grabbed them and swore. “Tell me you’re all right!” he barked, his voice sharpening in his distress.

“I’m fine. My head hurts a bit and I’m cold, but I’m fine.”

Gideon put his mouth to the gap. “Is it really dead?” he asked.

He could see some movement on the other side and realized she was nodding.

Gideon didn’t want to know anymore. Explanations could come later. Picking up the axe himself, he ordered her back and got to work.

Breaking down the wall was the work of a few minutes. They had been prepared with picks and mallets to use on the golem. Instead, he and his men used them to break down the rock face—alternately using their hands to expand the narrow opening of the cavern when necessary. The space must have been part of the network the Abbey had been built over.

As soon as the opening was wide enough, Amelia squeezed through, practically leaping into his arms.

Gideon didn’t care if everyone was watching them or that they were cheering, or like young John, crying in relief. He held Amelia tightly to him, his grip a little too hard.

“Take me away, Gideon,” she whispered into his neck.

“Anything you want,” he promised.

Confirming that the golem was really gone—and cracking it to pieces—could wait.

His wife wanted to go home.