The Thing Beneath the Floor. То, что под полом.

Глава 1The Thing Beneath the FloorThe shop was called “Chez Martine,” though there had never been any Martine. The sign hung crookedly, neon lights flickered unevenly, and at night, the letter "z" would often go out, transforming the sign into “Che Martine.” For some reason, I found this amusing. I had been working here for three months now—night shift from ten in the evening until seven in the morning. A small town near Arbin, too old to be cozy. Stone houses, narrow streets, the smell of dampness, wine, and cheese. They said that beneath the town stretched branches of the famous Arbin Catacombs, where long ago—before the town’s founding—there were silver mines. I was nineteen. I wore a very short dark skirt and a thin sweater—not out of flirtation, but because the shop was always hot. Strange, oppressive heat, even on rainy nights. The ventilation was poor, and sometimes it …