


“I wonder what else is down here.” Drake beamed his cell phone across the basement, hitting jars of jams, pickles, and relishes. His stomach growled.
Jordan pulled the cheese from his pocket and handed it to Drake. “Trade you for your phone.”
“Best. Trade. Ever.” Drake passed his phone to Jordan.
Jordan walked over and grabbed a jar of pickles off the dusty shelf. At least they wouldn’t arrive at the baron’s place hungry. He hoped his uncle had managed to stop Amanda’s bleeding. His hand tightened over the jar, the ridges of the lid cutting into his palm. A scrape from behind the shelves made Jordan jump.
“Hello?” he asked, pushing jars aside. He flashed the cell phone into the small, dark area.
“Who ya talking to, Jordan?” Drake asked with his mouth full of cheese.
“Shhh, Drake.” Jordan listened. Hearing nothing, he shrugged and turned back around.
“I…
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