Darkness Hunts (Dark Angels #4)
Page 23Jak hunkered down beside me. “Anything?”
His voice was little more than a whisper. Maybe he felt the closeness of something, too. Azriel? Can you hear me? There was no response. Obviously, the magic was broader than he’d suspected. I shook my head and said, “You?”
“Just rats and rubbish.”
“Yeah.” I pulled the satchel around and gave him a couple of Ilianna’s little blue bottles. “Put these in your pocket. If there are hellhounds here, pop the cork and use the water. It’ll deter them.”
“So holy water really does work?”
I glanced at him. “You investigate paranormal events and happenings, and you don’t know this?”
“Reporters are natural skeptics. Until I see it, I don’t believe it.”
“You haven’t seen ley lines or the gates to heaven and hell, yet you believe in those.”
He raised his eyebrows in amusement. “No, I believe you believe. I’m still holding out for proof.”
I snorted softly. “You may regret that.”
“Yeah, I usually do. It never stops me, though.”
A truer sentence had never been uttered. I rose and padded forward, still drawing in the scents around us, trying to find some hint of the magic I sensed was here. It might not be related to the ley line, but something was definitely going on in this place.
We followed the loading bay to its end, then carefully went up the steps and headed to the left. Several doors lay ahead. I paused and glanced questioningly at Jak. He hesitated, then pointed to the one in the middle. It was as good as any, I supposed.
I reached for the handle and felt the shimmer of . . . not energy, something else. Something darker. I said, “Be ready. Whatever is going on, I think it’s happening on the other side of that door.”
He nodded, his expression a mix of excitement and wariness as he drew Ilianna’s knife. I hoped like hell he’d use it if we got into trouble.
I took a deep breath, released it slowly, then opened the door. The room behind it was deep and dark, and the air still. The sensation that had briefly caressed the door handle wasn’t evident in the room itself, yet my uneasiness increased, and I wasn’t sure why.
I took one step into the room. The flooring was wood rather than concrete, which seemed odd. I paused, waiting.
Nothing happened. No one and nothing jumped out at us.
I took another step. Still nothing. Yet tension continued to crawl across my skin, and the feeling that something watched—waited—was growing.
“I can’t smell anyone or anything unusual.” Jak stopped beside me. His words seemed to jar uneasily against the still blackness of the room.
“That’s the problem.” I took another step.
It was one step too many.
Chapter 7
Wood and dust rained around us as the blackness swallowed us whole. There was no light, no stirring of air, no sound except the harsh rasp of our breathing.
After what seemed an eternity, I hit the dirt feetfirst and stumbled forward a couple of steps before falling on my face. Pain shot up my legs, then raged through the rest of me, until even the mere act of breathing hurt.
Jak landed with a grunt and slightly more balance, ending up on his knees rather than his face—a fact I knew simply because the sharp rasp of his breathing was close but not ground-close.
For several seconds neither of us moved. My breath was caught somewhere in the middle of my throat, and tension wound through my limbs as I waited for the axe to fall.
Nothing happened.
“You okay?” Jak asked eventually. Dirt stirred, and then his hand caught mine. I gripped it gratefully.
“Yeah. You?”
He helped me to a sitting position. “Winded, but okay. Can’t see a goddamn thing, though.”
“No.” I dusted my hands, then reached back and drew Amaya from her shadowy sheath. Flames flared along her blade and spread across the darkness in lilac waves.
“And where the fuck did that come from?” Jak asked.
“Long story.”
My gaze swept our cage. The pit was about ten feet square, and smelled of earth and age. I squinted up. Even if I stood on Jak’s shoulders and jumped, I wouldn’t be able to catch the edge and haul myself out. And I doubted I’d be able to take my energy form. If the magic in this place prevented Azriel from entering, it was a fair bet it would also prevent me from changing into Aedh.
It was also a wonder both of us had come through the fall relatively unscathed. But then, I guess werewolf bones were stronger than human ones, even in those of us who couldn’t actually shape-shift.
But our going through the floor was no accident—the concrete slab had been neatly cut, as had the timber that had covered this hole. It had held only long enough to catch the two of us.
“It can’t be a traditional sword,” he murmured, and reached out.
“Don’t—” I said at the same time that Amaya hissed and spat tendrils of fire at his fingertips.
He quickly withdrew. “Shit, that thing is alive.”
“Alive and aware.”
His gaze jumped to mine. “How the hell is something like that even possible?”
“It’s not—not in this world, anyway. She was born on the gray fields—forged in the death of a demon—and she has a life and a mind of her own.”
“So you control her?”
“You, my dear Risa, are becoming more and more interesting.”
I snorted softly and pushed to my feet. “Remember Ilianna’s threat.”
“Oh, trust me, I am.” He rose with a wince and rubbed his left knee. “How the hell are we going to get out of here?”
“I don’t know.” I used Amaya’s flames to inspect the walls more closely. The earth looked hard-packed and solid. I didn’t fancy our chances of digging ourselves out.
But I didn’t fancy waiting around for the creator of this pit to arrive, either.
Not, Amaya said.
I frowned. Not what?
Solid. Not.
My gaze swept the walls again. They look it.
Not. Left go.
I walked to the wall on my immediate left. Amaya flared, sparking brightly off the quartz in the dirt. I don’t see—
Magic. Touch.
I carefully extended the tip of her blade and touched the wall. Only she didn’t hit it. She went through it.
The wall was fake.
I reached out and ran my hand across it. Grit and rock brushed my fingertips. I pressed harder. The wall resisted briefly, then, with a slight sucking sound, my hand went through. Cold damp air caressed my fingertips.
I withdrew, then repeated the procedure a few feet on either side. Real wall, not magic-enhanced wall. The doorway was a foot or so wide. Enough for a human to squeeze out sideways.
Or a hellhound to get in.
I swallowed heavily and looked around at Jak. “There’s a concealed exit here.”
“To where?”
“Do you care?”
“Yes. But I don’t fancy staying here, either.”
“Keep your knife handy.” I went through sword first. It felt like I was walking through molasses—the magic creating the illusion was thick and syrupy, and clung like tendrils to my body, resisting my movements and then releasing me with an odd sucking sound. I shuddered, my skin crawling with horror. Whatever—whoever—had made that wall was not into white magic.
“God, that’s revolting,” he muttered, shaking himself like a dog trying to rid his coat of excess water. “Where are we?”
“I have no idea.”
I raised Amaya again. We were in a tunnel of some kind, and it was a tight fit—there was only an inch or two between my shoulders and the walls. Jak was forced not only to stand sideways but to keep his knees bent as well.
It wouldn’t be a good place to be caught in. There was no room to fight.
I looked to the left, then the right, but couldn’t see much in either direction—just the tunnel sweeping away into darkness. But as my gaze moved back to the left, the odd sense of unease increased. Something was down there. Something bad.
I shivered, then glanced up at Jak. “Does your nose tell you anything?”
“Can’t smell much more than age and dirt.” He hesitated, then glanced past me to the right. “It smells a bit fresher down that direction, though.”
It did? I studied the lilac-lit shadows dubiously, then glanced to the left again. There wasn’t a chance I was heading down there, so that left only Jak’s choice.
With Amaya’s fire lighting the way, we crept forward. The tunnel continued to narrow, until the bits of rock and debris in the soil were tearing into my shoulders and the scent of blood stung the air.
If there were hellhounds ahead, it would call to them.
I swallowed heavily and tightened my grip on Amaya. Her hissing ramped up, and I didn’t know whether she was reacting to something I’d yet to see, or merely echoing my tension. I hoped it was the latter, but I had a horrible suspicion it was the former.
At least I was better off than Jak—even as awkwardly bent over as he was, he kept hitting his head against the roof.
“Fuck,” he said eventually, “I really think we need to turn back.”
“No. There’s something down the other end of this tunnel—” I yelped as a particularly sharp rock sliced into my arm.
“At this rate,” he muttered, “we’ll bleed to death before we ever reach an exit.”
“I think I’d rather bleed than chance whatever is at the other end.”
“It can’t be any worse—”
“I wouldn’t bet on it.”
The words were barely out of my mouth when I burst out of the tunnel like a cork being popped from a champagne bottle. I stumbled to gain my balance and took a quick look around, once again using Amaya for illumination. No hellhounds, nothing that appeared immediately dangerous—just two innocuous-looking stones that stood like petrified soldiers in the middle of a cavern. Which didn’t mean we were out of trouble, but wherever the hell we were, it had to be better than the tunnel. Jak all but exploded out of it three seconds later and came to a halt beside me.