by Shéa MacLeod
"Okay, then. What do I do?" I asked... whoever Cordelia was channeling.
"Find the key to the key."
* * *
Find the key to the key? Was Cordelia serious? Talk about clear as mud. My chat with her had been about as useful as wings on a fish. Apart from flying fish, which are freakish.
I shook my head and focused on the task at hand. The last thing we needed was to get caught by the police or Dr. Mickleson, should he happen to stop by. The restaurant door stood just outside the pool of light cast by the nearest streetlight, but anyone walking past could easily see us.
"Would you hurry up?" I hissed.
"Would you like to do it?" Jack snapped without turning his head. He was kneeling in front of the door, tool set in hand, while I held a flashlight. His worn jeans rode low on his hips and his jacket shifted up a little. I tried not to stare at the smooth strip of tanned skin they revealed. I felt guilty for noticing. I felt double guilty for remembering how it felt to caress that tanned skin.
"Not really, no." If the cops wandered by, I'd need all the head start I could get.
"Fine. Then shut up and let me work." He turned his attention back to lock picking, and I turned my attention to giving him the finger behind his back.
"Want to do that to my face?" He snarled. Man, he was testy tonight.
"I'd be happy to. Tell me to shut up again, and it'll be more than my finger you'll be dealing with."
He let out a string of curses in what I could only guess was medieval French as he worked. I wasn't sure if he was cussing out me or the lock. Probably both. Inigo would have had the door open in a matter of seconds. He was a genius with lock picks.
My heart gave a little throb of pain at the thought. Pressing my hand to my breast bone, I willed the ache to subside. I missed Inigo so much, it was less painful to avoid thinking about him. Easier said than done.
"Got it." Jack sounded ridiculously pleased with himself.
"Careful." I nodded toward the small sign in the window that proclaimed the property was guarded by Xeno Security. "Don't want that thing going off."
"I can fix it."
I raised my eyebrows. It wasn't that I doubted him. Okay, I doubted him.
The restaurant door swung open, revealing dark shadows beyond.
"Wait here." Jack stepped through the doorway and disappeared inside while I clicked off the flashlight and kept to the shadows.
I waited for the shriek of an alarm, but nothing happened. Apparently, Jack really could fix it.
Jack reappeared and beckoned me inside. The door swung shut behind us, cutting off some of the light from outside. Inside, it was quiet, still, and a little stuffy, with a strong odor of garlic.
I moved cautiously toward the back of the room where Mickleson had disappeared earlier that day. True, my night vision was superior to that of normal humans, but the last thing I wanted to do was crash into a chair or table. My feet stuck to the floor a little as I walked. Evidently cleanliness was not a top priority. I made a note to never, ever eat at this restaurant.
We passed through the swinging door into the kitchen. Without windows, it was even darker back here. The only lights were from the dim green glow of the exit sign and the tiny emergency light next to it. Below them was a heavy fire door with a steel crash bar. Next to that was a regular door.
I moved closer to the doors, Jack hot on my heels. The second door was a cheap wooden thing with a regular brass-painted doorknob and a seriously complicated looking deadbolt which required a key. Crap.
"Don't worry. I can crack it." Jack said.
"In less than three hours?" I might have been exaggerating slightly.
It was Jack's turn to give me the finger. "Step back."
I moved out of the way, leaning against one of the metal shelving units crammed with an assortment of pots and pans. I expected Jack to pull out the lock picks. Instead, he gave the door one hell of a kick. I heard a loud cracking sound as the door splintered away from the frame, swinging drunkenly on a single hinge.
"Very nice." I gave him a golf clap.
Jack executed a small bow, his full lips quirking into a half smile. "Thank you. Thank you very much."
"That is the worst Elvis impression I've ever heard."
"I'm heartbroken."
"Don't you think someone is going to notice the door's been kicked in?"
Jack shrugged. "By then, we'll have found whatever it is we came to see. Shall we?" He motioned to the open doorway and the stairs descending downward.
"Guardians first." I figured if Jack wanted to play the Guardian card every five minutes, the least he could do was put his ass on the line once in a while. Okay, that wasn't fair. He'd put said ass on the line many times for me and my friends. Still, I had no intention of going down those stairs first.
With another shrug, he slowly descended the stairs. I had a really bad feeling this basement held more than cobwebs and old wine bottles. I took a deep breath and followed him down.
Chapter 19
With the basement door shut behind us, Jack switched on his flashlight. Its harsh white glow revealed a set of rickety wooden steps leading down to a concrete floor. We moved cautiously, the stairs creaking in protest under our combined weight. I probably should cut down on those donuts. Like that was going to happen.
Once we reached the floor, Jack swung his light around, revealing a perfectly ordinary basement. Cobwebs hung from the single bare bulb gracing the ceiling, and a web of cracks and chips from decades of use spread across the floor, marring the concrete. A few cases of various alcoholic beverages were stacked against one wall. In another corner, a dusty sheet covered what appeared to be old dining room chairs and tables. There was nothing here that would have been of interest to a man like Mickleson. He clearly wasn't using the basement.
"Do you feel a draft?" Jack snagged my attention.
I licked my finger and held it up. I'd seen it done in TV shows. Sure enough, I could feel a slight coolness against one side of my finger. Casting my gaze in that direction, I saw nothing but stacks of chairs draped in sheeting. One corner of the grimy cloth stirred slightly.
"There." I pointed toward the corner. "I bet there's something behind those chairs."
Jack kept the flashlight trained on the corner while I moved closer to inspect the stack, one hand on the hilt of my dagger. "I found something."
Sure enough, the chairs had been carefully stacked just far enough away from the wall to allow a person to slip behind them. Smack dab in the middle of the wall was a piece of plywood covering up what appeared to be a fairly large hole. I pulled out my flashlight and played it over the plywood.
"It looks like a hidden exit."
Jack peered around the stacks of chairs. "Or entrance. I'll check it out."
I let him past as he handed me his flashlight. Jack slid the plywood out of the way, revealing the hole. He took back his flashlight and shone it around. "Not much to see. Just another room from the looks of it." He stood up. "Ladies first."
"Chicken." Making a face, I ducked through the opening and into the room beyond.
It wasn't a room, after all. It was a tunnel. Narrow and low with crumbling brick walls and a ceiling of thick crossbeams. The floor was simple packed dirt. The cobwebs were even thicker here. It looked like this section of the Shanghai Tunnels hadn't been used in centuries, but there was no doubt in my mind Mickleson had come this way. Call it a gut instinct.
Jack had to squat in order to maneuver his large frame through the low opening. He nearly whacked his head against one of the crossbeams as he stood up.
"Careful. I don't think they had guys over six feet in mind when they built this place." I doubted they'd had personal space in mind, either. There wasn't enough room for the two of us in the narrow tunnel. Jack was way closer than I'd have liked, his broad shoulders and wide chest crowding me. My breath came a little faster and my heart beat kicked into high gear. Gods dammit, what was wrong with me?
I gave myself a ment
al shake. This was ridiculous. What Jack and I once had was over. Granted, it had been his choice, not mine, and yeah, I might still find him attractive, but we were partners of a sort. That was it. Coworkers, nothing more. The man I loved was lying in a coma somewhere in Scotland.
And yet something told me things with Jack weren't as settled as I'd like to believe. The thought freaked me out.
"This way." I moved down the tunnel, ignoring Jack and the multitude of problems his presence gave me.
I swiped a cobweb off my cheek, cringing at the clingy stickiness of it. Gross. I hoped any spiders that had once been in that web were long gone. My skin crawled at the thought they might not be. Gods, I hated spiders.
The tunnel ended at another large hole in the wall. This entrance was original, with a carefully crafted archway above and a couple of stone steps that took us down into another basement. This one looked like it had been abandoned for years. The stone floor was coated in a thick layer of dust, and in that dust I saw a trail of footprints leading across the floor and disappearing behind a door at the opposite side of the room.
Mickleson. Had to be.
"Let's see what's behind door number two." I grabbed hold of the cold iron handle and pulled. The heavy wooden door swung open easily. "These hinges have been oiled recently."
Jack nodded. "Mickleson, or somebody, has been coming down here on a regular basis."
The doorway led to another tunnel similar to the first, except there were fewer cobwebs and a little more head room. About ten feet down, we hit an intersection. The tunnel stretched on into darkness, but there was also a branch heading right and another one going left. It was impossible to make out footprints in the hard-packed dirt.
"Crap. Now where?"
Jack shrugged. "No idea. Guess we try them all."
"Left first?"
He nodded his approval. "I'll go right and we'll meet back here."
"Roger that."
I went down the left tunnel, swinging my light back and forth so as not to miss a hidden door or something. There was nothing. The tunnel dead-ended at a cave-in. A huge pile of rubble blocked the path completely. There was no way Mickleson could have gotten through that mess without looking like Charlie Brown's friend, Pigpen. He'd come out of the restaurant a little sweaty but otherwise pristine. He also hadn't been gone long enough to have spent any length of time mucking around. He'd gotten in and gotten out. Hurrying back down the tunnel to the intersection, I waited for Jack. His flashlight came bobbing back toward me a couple minutes later.
"Any luck?"
"There were a couple doors, one of them led into another empty room and the other led to an underground parking garage. Neither door has been opened recently. You?"
"Cave-in. Guess it's straight down the middle."
We continued down the tunnel to another door. Again, it looked ancient, but I could see a few dark spots in the dirt under the hinges.
Jack squatted down and rubbed some of the earth between his fingers. "Oil. This door has been used and recently, too."
"Jackpot."
I twisted the doorknob but it didn't move. Not exactly a surprise. I'd bet anything this was where Mickleson was getting his groove on. "Think you can pick it?"
Jack eyed the lock. "Probably. Here. Hold the flashlight."
I took it from him and stepped back to give Jack room to work. Before I could open my mouth, Jack had rammed his shoulder into the door, which sprang open with a splintering crack. It wasn't nearly as impressive the second time around, but I couldn't help the little thrill I felt at all the macho. Dust sifted down from overhead, sprinkling his head and shoulders as he pushed through the open doorway.
I swung my flashlight beam around, revealing piles of smashed up equipment. It was electronics that looked like it belonged in a hospital or scientific lab. Trays of medical instruments were scattered around, some stamped into the dirt floor. A gurney lay on its side, the thin mattress ripped to shreds. Whatever had been going on, someone was trying to destroy it. Maybe to cover it up. Maybe just because they were mad.
"What the hell?" Jack's voice echoed in the large room.
I grabbed his arm. "Shhh."
His face was a mask of confusion. "What... "
"We're not alone." Pressure gripped the back of my skull: my early warning signal.
From deeper inside the room, two glowing red eyes stared back at us. All three of us stood frozen for a split second. Then the vampire charged.
Chapter 20
At the last possible second, the vampire dodged Jack and hit me full on. I'd like to say I was ready for the bastard, but I'd honestly been expecting him to attack Jack. Or just get the hell out of Dodge. I wasn't as prepared as I should have been. I didn't even have time to pull out a knife. Score one for the vamp.
The force threw me backward, taking me to the floor before I could so much as blink. I landed on my back with a jarring thud, the vamp heavy on top of me, as my flashlight skittered away into the blackness. My breath left my lungs in a whoosh. I coughed, gasping for air as dark lights danced in front of my eyes. For a moment, eerie red eyes stared into mine. The vampire was under someone else's control. That much was obvious. But there was one other thing: the vampire had a soul.
Before I could do more than register the thought, the vampire started to clamber off me. Apparently he was more interested in escape than ripping my throat out, but I couldn't let him get away. He was our only lead. We needed him in order to find out what Mickleson was up to. So I did the only thing I could think of. I wrapped my legs tight around his waist and held on for dear life.
With a hiss, the vamp back-handed me across the face, smacking my head against the floor. Thank the gods it was dirt, not concrete, or I might have been in serious trouble. I tried to hit him back, but dazed from the blow and lack of oxygen, I only managed to glance a fist off his shoulder. Still, I kept my thighs clamped around him like a vise, using every last ounce of energy I had to hold on.
He cocked his fist to slam my face again, but Jack caught his arm before he connected. There was a sickening crack as Jack twisted the vampire's arm behind his back. Letting out a screech of pain, the vamp threw himself backward so hard, it was either let him go or suffer two broken legs. I let go.
He was off me and headed back through the tunnel before Jack or I could react. I could hear his footsteps fading even as Jack ran after him.
I slowly climbed to my feet, propping myself up against the wall. My fingers scraped against the crumbling bricks, and my nose tickled with the musty, earthy scent. My head swam until I almost upchucked into the corner. The hit had taken a lot more out of me than it should have. I guess, I wasn't entirely back to normal.
Dragging in a deep breath and willing my stomach to behave, I followed the two men through the tunnels. I'd like to say I dashed along behind them in an elegant and sexy manner, like those action heroines in the movies. But it was more like an awkward stagger accompanied by the occasional crash into a wall. I'd be lucky if I made it out without breaking my neck. My night vision was all but useless with my head swimming, so I did the only thing I could think of. I called the Darkness.
From within me, I felt it rise, lifting its head and sniffing the air like a dog. Eagerly, it heaved up and out of that place deep within me. If it had been brighter, I would have been able to see my own vision dimming, tunneling down to a pinprick. As it was, I couldn't see any such thing in the black of the underground, but I knew the minute the Darkness took over. I could suddenly see almost as well as if it were day, except everything was tinged a weird bluish purple.
Even better, my brain stopped spinning and my stomach settled. My equilibrium returned, the power of the Darkness repairing, or at least masking, whatever damage the vamp had done.
I picked up speed, racing around a corner and through a door that was dangling precariously from its hinges. The Darkness giggled, the sound spilling out of my mouth. It was excited by the chase. Frankly, so was I. I could feel th
e Darkness reaching out to take control, but I held it back with a metaphorical vise grip. I needed it, yes, but I wasn't about to let it take over.
I dashed around another corner, following that grip of pressure on the back of my skull that told me a vampire was near. I could make out Jack a few feet ahead, his body heat shimmering orange and gold against the bluish light of my vision. I could hear his heart pounding and smell the tang of his sweat against the musty earth of the tunnel. The vamp was a little ahead of him. He showed up the same purplish color as the walls of the tunnel. No body heat. Big surprise. He smelled of death and decay and something else, something I couldn't quite put my finger on.
We were almost on him. Just a little farther. I pushed myself, lengthening my stride.
I was within a few feet of Jack when the vamp reached out and yanked something out of the wall. It was hard to tell, but it looked like a branch or stick or something. Jack didn't even pause, just pushed harder, but I hesitated. Under my feet, I felt a rumbling.
"Jack."
It was too late. Next thing I knew, the ceiling caved in.
I ducked instinctively, covering the back of my head and neck as hundreds of pounds of dirt, stones, and gods knew what else crashed to the ground all around me. The tunnel shook with the impact, nearly knocking me off my feet.
When the shaking stopped, the air was so thick with dust, I could hardly breathe. I tucked my face under the collar of my T-shirt, hiding my nose and mouth like a little kid as I coughed up a lungful of dirt. Hopefully the shirt would filter the air enough to keep me from choking to death. I wished I had my sunglasses. The crap in the air was irritating my eyes, but it didn't stop me from realizing I couldn't see the glow from Jack's flashlight anymore, or the orange shimmer of his body heat.
"Jack?" My voice was muffled slightly by my T-shirt. There was no answer. "Jack!" A little louder this time.
Still nothing. Not even my Darkness-enhanced hearing helped. I searched the area visually, willing the Darkness to pick up Jack's heat signature. No such luck. Not so much as a faint glow penetrated the thick blackness of the tunnel.
