by Ann Gimpel
“What are you thinking?” Konstantin demanded.
The man kept his head down. “That if I must die, I am grateful to have laid eyes on one of the world’s wonders.” He raised his head. “I have done horrible things, aligned myself with wickedness. I deserve death as much as those two.” He waved a hand in the direction of the smoking pyres.
“This grandmother of yours, would she approve of how you have lived your life?”
The man’s features scrunched in sadness. “Great-grandmother, and no, she would have dragged me to church with her every day to better pray for my tarnished soul.”
Konstantin scoured the man’s mind with magic to assess if he was telling the truth. The others, the ones turning to ash, had been beyond redemption. This man retained a conscience. “I will not kill you this day, but I would extract a promise.”
The man bowed his head once more. “Anything.”
“Consider this a second chance. You will craft expiation for your wrongdoing and make your family proud of you.”
“I will. I promise.”
“Stand up.”
The man scrambled upright.
“We will ensure you do not sustain blame for your associates’ deaths. Come close, and I shall toss you onto my back. We will fly near enough your ship the others see us, and then I shall drop you into the sea.”
“Thank you. This is far more than I hoped for. I will keep my end of our bargain.”
Konstantin skewered him with his whirling eyes. “You will, indeed, for if you do not, I will know, and the death that did not claim you this day will find you.”
“If I welch, I deserve to die.” The man ran close.
Konstantin lifted him with magic until he straddled his broad back. “Hang on.” Spreading his wings, he circled to gain enough altitude to spot a ship. It was the only one in the area, and another of the infernal rafts had just left the lowered gangway.
“This is good,” the man informed him. “You won’t have to fly as far, only to the raft.”
Konstantin set a path to intercept it. Before he got very close, bullets zinged past them. They couldn’t hurt him, but they could injure his passenger. He blasted a path in front of him, frosting the air with flames. The man kneeling in the raft, rifle raised to his shoulder, stared at the fiery trail above him and lowered his gun.
Distant shouts reached him. Konstantin banked and circled. The man on his back was close enough to call to the two in the raft. Good. Meant they wouldn’t waste more ammunition trying to drive him out of the skies.
A slight course correction, and he hovered a few feet above the raft, looking down on faces scrunched in panic and horror. The man who’d been riding him leapt sideways, landing sprawled in the bottom of the raft.
Konstantin flapped his wings hard, intent on putting distance between himself and the raft. He’d done enough damage for one day. Revealing themselves to humans was frowned on, except who would call him to task? For all he knew, he and Katya were the only two dragon shifters left on Earth.
Besides, if he hadn’t ferried the man back to his ship, no one would have believed his stories about seeing a dragon. No. They’d have blamed him for the deaths of the other men. He’d have probably been shot and dumped over the side of the ship.
This group of men had an ungodly fascination with guns and death. For the barest moment, Konstantin considered returning and blowing up the ship. It was well within his capabilities to set fire to the machinery that powered the vessel. The dragon was all for anything that smacked of destruction, but Konstantin pulled him back.
Killing everyone on the ship would be grand sport, but it defeated the purpose of sparing the man whose great-grandmother had glimpsed a dragon. And now, two more men had seen him as well. They’d have no doubts about what he was. Not after the one who’d ridden him was done.
This way, a few sailors would keep tales of dragonkind alive on the lips of men. It was vain of Konstantin, and probably misguided, but he didn’t want the memory of those like him to die out.
A spate of rapid-fire Russian faded behind him as he flew fast and sure back toward the spit of land where he’d emerged from his underground lair. His dragon’s delight at being airborne lightened his soul. They’d killed today, but they’d also extended compassion.
His dual nature was both boon and challenge. The dragon would merrily kill anything in its path, but the man’s task was to provide wisdom and a modulating effect. All shifters fought the same fight. When the animal nature took over the partnership, the elders sat you down and had a heart to heart.
A warning before they banished you to a distant borderworld where the harm you might do would be minimal.
Konstantin touched down and rebuked himself. No more elders to keep overly enthusiastic shifters in line. He and Katya were on their own. Had been for centuries.
As he summoned shift magic and reclaimed his human form, excitement thrummed hotly in his chest. Was the alone part about to change? The human woman was comely. Surely, she’d wish to welcome a dragon and become immortal. What person could resist such an offer?
And then he remembered her reaction to the gift he’d offered. A gift with no strings at all when he’d directed magic and killed the man in the cavern. Gratitude hadn’t even made the list. She’d been shocked, frightened, outraged, and confused.
His certainty about her reaction to his glorious two-fold nature faded, replaced by caution. If she proved too much trouble, he’d keep his word and plunk her and the man back on the beach. Let them figure out their own way back to what passed for civilization in a badly flawed human world.
“I’ve returned,” he called to Katya as he waited for fingers and toes and skin to replace scales and talons.
“And not a moment too soon.”
He started to ask what in the Nine Hells that meant, but decided not to. He’d find out soon enough.
Chapter 4
“Engage the safety,” Johan yelled at me as the dirt beneath our boots crumpled.
I fumbled with the gun and discovered I’d never released the mechanism that would have allowed the revolver to fire. Determined not to mention that part—no reason to—I waited for the cushion that had broken my fall last time.
And prayed like hell it would still be there.
It was, and I righted myself toward the bottom, landing on my feet.
“Well.” Johan grunted the word. “I know why you did not die the first time, but Christ, there is something horribly wrong here.”
“You think?” I angled a glance in the direction of his voice. Remembering the flashlight still clipped to my suit, I turned it on and gasped.
“What is it?”
“Wait a moment.” I stayed put but turned in a full circle, playing my light over the thousands of multifaceted crystals I remembered all too well. The small, rounded enclosure sure as hell looked the same, but it couldn’t be. Last time, I’d fallen from a spot seventy-five feet away. The cave wasn’t anywhere near that in diameter. Thirty feet tops.
Maybe there were more than one of these places. That had to be it. I hustled to the area where I’d found a climbing route in cave number one. There wouldn’t be one here. There couldn’t be.
Because the caves had to be different.
As I blitzed past landmarks, I remembered them. I didn’t want to, but I did. Shit. Breathing way harder than my level of exertion required, I shone my flashlight over familiar territory. This was where I’d climbed out of the other cave. Scuffs from my boot soles marred the lower crystals.
Johan had activated a second light. He must have stuffed a flashlight in his suit after he’d tossed one down to me Good man. He thinks ahead. Maybe he sensed I was thinking about him because he clamped a hand around my upper arm.
“What. Is. It?” He inserted spaces between the words this time, and I knew he wouldn’t let me off the hook until I told him something that resonated as true.
“This is the same cave I was in last time,” I said dully. “I
t violates every single law of physics, but these”—I ran a gloved finger over a place the crystals had broken beneath my weight—“happened when I was climbing out of here.”
“Many physical laws have fallen today,” he said in a carefully neutral tone. “Why are you so distraught about this one?”
“I am not distraught—” I began and clamped my mouth shut. My lips were trembling, and I did not want to cry. My hyper-emotional state was stupid, ill-timed. The only important thing was escape.
I’d no sooner thought about fleeing, never mind I had no idea how we’d manage it without the rope, when an explosion rocked the chamber above us. Johan threw me on the ground with his body on top of mine; rocks rained down around us. None did any damage because the mysterious layer of thicker air that had protected us, slowed the rocks too.
“Appreciate the thought,” I gritted out, “but you’re crushing me.”
“You have a difficult time with thank-yous, Madame Doctor. Better me than rocks.” He moved off me, ended up in a crouch, and rolled his eyes. “If I had been thinking, I would have realized they wouldn’t fall hard enough to hurt us.”
“Thanks for trying to protect me. Crap on a cracker, can this get any worse?” I used hands and knees to move off my belly and into a sit.
Aftershocks rolled through above us, sounding like giants engaged in a bizarre bowling match. Dust filtered through both holes. The one I’d fallen through, before—and the new one.
“To answer your question, our situation could be far worse than it is. We could be wounded,” he pointed out. “Like I was. Or dead.”
I winced. I hadn’t been thinking about his broken leg—and subsequent miraculous recovery—because the whole thing creeped the hell out of me. “Even if we could climb out of here…” I scanned him, assessing the reach of his long arms and legs, and decided he could probably manage free climbing.
The corners of his mouth twitched. “Have you found a way to determine if someone has climbing skills without asking them?”
I felt my face heat. “Uh, no. Besides, it’s pointless. Even if we got back to where all those chests are, it would take us days to dig our way out. We have no food…” Because our prospects were dim enough to unnerve me, I opted for a question. “Was that a grenade?”
“Maybe. Might have been plastique, which does a hell of a lot more damage.” Johan hesitated. “We do have food, Erin. Perhaps not what you would rather eat, but beggars cannot be choosers.”
I opened my mouth to ask what but closed it in a hurry. Every story I’d ever read about survivors of cataclysmic events resorting to cannibalism roared through my mind. We weren’t lacking for dead bodies. All we had to do was excavate them out of the rubble. My gut clenched, and for long moments it was nip and tuck whether I’d vomit.
When I looked up, Johan’s gaze was fixed on me almost as if he were willing me to get hold of myself. “Stay here and take a break for a few minutes.”
“Where are you going?”
“Obviously, not far. I will perform a methodical circuit of this space. Perhaps there is a way out that does not require steep climbing.”
“I’ll be here.” I nodded glumly, feeling like a chump. Hunting for an easier way out had never occurred to me. Oh hell, no. I’d been all about proving how tough I was. A couple of my sketchy moves had nearly gotten me killed when I’d climbed up the series of knobs and marginal holds.
Or they could have been the end of me in a normal world, one where a safety net didn’t catch me at the bottom.
I clicked my light off to preserve the batteries. They were the extra-long-life ones, meant to perform in sub-zero conditions, but even the heartiest battery gave up eventually. Johan’s boots made little scraping sounds as he worked his way along the base of the wall, scanning upward with his light every few feet.
If we couldn’t find an alternate escape hatch, we’d have to return to the upper cavern. This was starting to feel like a twisted version of Groundhog Day where we started over a gazillion times. I tried to remember how the movie had ended, but couldn’t.
It was a bad sign I couldn’t connect the dots. Was my head injury creating internal problems like bleeding or intracranial pressure from cerebrospinal fluid leakage? Issues that would slowly worsen until they killed me?
I squeezed my hands together, willing the pressure, palm against palm, to calm me. If I hadn’t been a doctor, I’d never have had any idea about maladies like Talk and Die Syndrome.
Well, maybe I’d have known about that one since someone famous had died from it, but I definitely would not have known about the cavalcade of possible disasters lying in wait if my central nervous system failed. So many complex parts. A whole lot could go wrong.
Yeah. Easier to think about medical shit than eating corpses.
I ground my teeth, shamed by my thoughts. I had to stake a claim to the dispassionate place I lived when I stood in the OR for ten hours performing an intricate surgery. I’d been a master at not getting too far ahead of the curve, of focusing on the problem in front of me, of pivoting on a dime if something went south. I’d always prided myself on my flexibility. My unflappability.
What the hell had happened to that woman? I needed her back. Her absence wasn’t acceptable.
“Erin!”
Johan’s summons rocked me out of the funk I’d fallen into, and I jumped to my feet. “Yes. Did you find something?”
“Maybe. It’s not quite big enough. Help me dig it out.” Scraping noises followed his words.
He stood on the far side of the space, maybe twenty feet away. I took the most direct route, not bothering with following the curved walls. The ground was uneven enough, I flicked on my light, angling it to illuminate the bumps ahead of me.
One spot looked funny, concave where everything else was more-or-less level. I didn’t understand why, but I picked up a rock and chucked it at the center of the dip. The ground shuddered, and the rock vanished, accompanied by two or three of the same musical notes I’d heard earlier.
I didn’t want to disturb Johan. Not yet, anyway. I looked around for a stick. Of course I didn’t find anything nearly that convenient. Then I remembered the rifle. Johan had left it back where we’d been sitting. I retraced my steps and picked it up. The weapon felt heavy and alien in my hands, but I schlepped it back to the spot I wanted to test.
“What is keeping you?” Johan called.
“I may have found something. Be there in a flash.”
“What kind of something?”
“Not sure. Hold on.” I crouched as close to the odd place as I could, making certain my boots were on solid ground. I remembered how the rock had vanished, so I wrapped one arm around a conveniently placed good-sized boulder and poked the center of the declination with the rifle’s barrel.
Something sucked hard on the gun. Hard enough, it took all my strength to yank it back into the cave. I knelt there, panting.
“What are you doing?” Johan joined me. He picked up a rock and tossed it into the same spot that had tried to seize the gun. Naturally, it vanished. “Well, well.” He swayed back on his heels and cast an appraising glance at the concave spot. “I did not hear the rock hit bottom. Did you discover Alice’s secret path into Wonderland?”
I dropped my head into my hands and rubbed my aching temples, wishing I’d had the foresight to bring my medical bag, the one I kept packed and ready despite not being the ship’s official doctor. Right about now, I’d sell my soul for aspirin, or Tylenol or ibuprofen.
My mind was wandering. Badly. I’d been unconscious when they carried me off the Darya. No way to bring anything, much less medical supplies. Meanwhile, Johan reached around me and grabbed the rifle, repeating my experiment. Without any instructions from me, he instinctively hung onto a convenient rock with his other hand.
“Definitely a gateway of some kind,” he muttered.
“Huh?” I raised my head and gazed at him bleary-eyed.
He offered me a sheepish expression. “
Reading science fiction is one of my secret vices. Granted, things get wonky this near the southern pole, but the magnetic pull of that place”—he pointed, and I noticed he’d removed his heavy mitts—“suggests an electrical imbalance between where we are and wherever that leads. It isn’t natural, so I suspect someone constructed it to discourage entry.”
“Entry to where?”
“I have no idea. Want to spend a little time seeing if the gap in the wall leads anywhere? This vortex is not going away. We can always jump through it.”
“Into what?” My voice emerged as a croak, and I waved a hand his way. “Never mind. I’m not expecting you to know.”
“You are trained as a scientist. What do you think it is?”
In truth, I hadn’t gotten that far. Nowhere close. “I don’t know. Maybe a black hole, except aren’t they formed by dying stars?”
He nodded. “They are, but it is not a quantum leap that a meteor may have plowed into Earth in this area and formed the same type of electron trap a dying star would make.”
“You did some kind of study of this site, didn’t you?”
“Yes. And this place where we are did not show up. My graphing equipment displayed a solid layer of earth extending a long way down. Until you reach a string of subterranean lakes.”
“How far underground were they?”
“Nearly four kilometers.”
I did a quick conversion and came up with roughly two-and-a-half miles. His off-the-cuff comparison to Wonderland stuck in my head. It seemed we weren’t that far beneath Antarctica’s surface, but nothing else down here acted like I thought it should.
I sure as hell hadn’t climbed more than a hundred feet to exit this cave, but the cave could have moved for all I knew.
I got to my feet and gestured toward where he’d been standing. “Let’s exhaust the spot you found, first. Maybe we’ll stumble across something.”
“And if we do not?” He raised one dark brow.
“We’ll talk about it then.”
He pushed upright and followed me across to the space he’d been widening between two large boulders. If I turned sideways, it was close. Another couple of inches, and I’d be able to squeeze through. For the next span of time, we worked in silence. Dirt fell into the hole nearly as fast as we removed it, so we didn’t make rapid progress.
