by J. T. Hardy
"Hope no one's claustrophobic," I kidded, though the ceiling wasn't more than a foot above our heads. Nobody laughed.
Daniel headed down, picking his way carefully over the rocks to the left side. A manway--like a mine sidewalk if I remembered Dad's lesson correctly--ran parallel to the rails. Wooden boards lay atop the gravel, with two-feet wide two-by-fours nailed into them like a long, flat ladder, giving us purchase on the way down. A rusty red water pipe followed the wall. It was too thin to be used for ventilation, and not sturdy enough to keep someone from falling. Old electric cables hung above it, a few bulbs still intact. Debris cluttered the manway; bits of old metal, tubing, even a faded pack of cigarettes no one made anymore.
"You want us to walk down that?" Cavanaugh said, voice trembling. "There's not even a handrail."
"Take it a step at a time," Dad said.
We moved slowly toward the first drift level, one of many horizontal tunnels, and my nerves tensed with every minute. If Kokabiel got out before we made it down, or if he found us before we were ready...I shuddered from more than the chill wafting up the shaft.
Up ahead, the rails and cables for the switching station appeared, antique contraptions that once raised and lowered the tracks and shifted the ore carts between mine levels. They were bent and broken after decades of neglect. On the right-hand wall, "Bill Rogers, 1931" was scrawled in black paint, and next to it, a cartoon drawing of a man in an old-time miner's hat.
Dusty shadows wrapped around us, stinging eyes and filling noses. Tunnels branched outward from the main shaft, the tracks curving through rough rock and broken lumber. Our flashlights barely made a dent in the darkness. Rock pressed in on every side, held back by beams thick as I was. Stone ought to last forever, but decades of drilling had turned this giant chunk of rock into Swiss cheese. What looked like solid ground might be thin as paper.
At the second drift level station, a tunnel led off to the right into a Y-junction. One of the tracks veered right, and a second tunnel veered left, vanishing into the pitch black just beyond a cobwebby ore chute. We kept following the main shaft.
"It's blocked ahead," Daniel said. "I made room, but we'll have to squeeze through. I didn't want to disturb it too much in case..." He waved a hand, and no one really wanted him to finish that sentence. We all knew what could happen if the wrong thing got shifted down here.
My flashlight caught the worn yellow paint of an ore cart lying upside down across the rails. Ribbed pipes big enough to hold a person were piled up beside and on top of it.
"Ventilation tubing," Dad said.
Between the tubing and the cart was just enough room to get by. Daniel showed us how to wriggle through and we followed.
Such blackness beyond. Roberto followed Daniel, but Dad took my hand and held me back. "Grace, I never wanted you to have to deal with...all this."
"We can talk about all this later."
He started to say something, but I stopped him. An abandoned mineshaft was hardly the place for a heart to heart, especially when we might all be dead before long. I loved him, I was pissed at him, I wanted to hug him and scream at him and then curl up on his lap as if I were six, and none of that would help us survive long enough to actually do it.
I couldn't even count on having enough time to set the trap.
As far as I could tell, we'd escaped Kokabiel's lair about forty minutes ago, tops. I hadn't exactly checked my watch when we'd peeled out of there. Daniel had estimated an hour to dig free, but what if Rocky had lived up to his name and just chewed through the stone? They could be on us any second.
This was crazy. They could have had a back door we didn't know about, and the grenade we'd thrown might have delayed them only minutes.
If so, they'd be here now.
Unless they missed the obvious turn off the road. Or they were waiting for us to come back out. Maybe they'd all feel like Zack and refuse to come down after us.
Stupid plan. Such a stupid plan.
"Ladies first," Dad said, gesturing at the tiny gap. I turned sideways and slid through, the edge of the cart pressing on my already sore back.
On the other side, a pile of spare rail tracks and a stack of wood blocked the manway.
Daniel shifted right. "Use the rail side to get past that."
More tubing, piled knee high, narrowed the tunnel further. Another ore cart--this time right-side up--waited empty but sturdy on the rails.
We passed through drift level two and headed for the station at drift level three, deeper and deeper into the mine. I sensed a hint of moisture in the cold air, and faint drips echoed in the dark. The darkness settled around us, heavier than it had been closer to the surface. Even the ceiling was lower.
More ventilation tubing crowded the incline shaft. Tubing also ran along the ceiling, parts of it crushed and dented, others torn between the metal ribs. The floor was rougher here, with more chipped stone and chunks of missing rock.
"The weakened tunnel is this way," Daniel said softly, heading into the station tunnel. It branched in three directions. In the center, massive timbers were stacked like Jenga blocks from floor to ceiling, shoved tight against the ceiling beams.
"What is that?" Libby asked.
"Cribbing," said Dad. "It's bracing the tunnel."
"That can't be good."
"For our plan it is. Plant a charge there and it'll come down easy as pie."
One set of tracks turned into the far right tunnel while the other continued down toward level four. Only one track down, now, as the main shaft was half as wide as it had been farther up.
Daniel shined the lamp down the right-hand tunnel with the tracks. "That way leads to the exit tunnel."
He took the middle tunnel. Timbers and wooden retaining walls lined both sides. The ceiling beams bowed from the pressure, most with wide enough cracks in the wood to make my skin crawl. Rocks and decent-sized boulders peeked through the space between the boards of the retaining wall.
"Does it feel damp to anyone else?" Libby asked.
"Yes," Dad said. "We must be near the aquifer."
The tunnel grew even narrower, with bowed and cracked timbers every few feet. I passed an oil barrel with an unfamiliar logo against the wall, a shallow puddle of water on its lid. White mold or some kind of fungus grew on the timbers overhead like they were dusted with snow.
Daniel stopped and turned around. "This is it."
The tunnel took a strong right turn, and just beyond it, a jagged hole plunged who-knew-how-far down. Moist air wafted up, and the scent of decay. Libby pulled a rope from her backpack and tied it off on one of the beams, then tossed it down into the hole. We'd be crazy to put our weight on it, let alone go down there, but between the rope, the displaced cobwebs and the footprints in the dust on the ground, we'd made a huge trail. If Kokabiel followed it and assumed we were hiding down here, he'd fall right into the trap. Right, 'cause he's stupid. I sighed.
Daniel was ghostly pale in the beam of the flashlight. I reached out and covered his dirt-smudged hand with mine. His trembled, and for a heartbeat, I felt his fear overpower my own. A terrified angel didn't bode well for our survival, but we were all scared. Why should he be any different?
"Thank you for this," I said, meaning every word. "If we live through this, you're the reason why."
His mouth twitched. More than a brief smile was apparently beyond him at the moment, but the steel in his eyes shimmered, and he once again looked like an angel with shit to prove. "We will survive this."
Libby and Roberto were already setting up.
"Tony," he said, "suggestions on the weakest parts to set the charges?"
Dad nodded and pointed out beams and walls. Roberto followed him and rolled out a long cord attached to rectangular boxes I assumed were the explosives. He started burying them behind the rubble and close to the walls, right up against the beams. While he worked, Libby kicked dirt over the cord, hiding it from view.
I wiped the sweat off my brow. "We can blow t
hem up from a safe distance?"
"Affirmative."
Excellent. "The blast will seal them off from the exit tunnels as well?" No point in going through this if Kokabiel could escape the same way we did.
"If we do it right," Roberto said.
I held up both hands and crossed my fingers. He chuckled.
"Anything I can do to help?" I asked.
"Grab Cavanaugh and see if you can find something to cover our tracks to the exit tunnel."
"Roger that."
I picked up one of the thin pipes lying about and tied my jacket to the end. Not the best broom, but it worked well enough to swish around the dirt and grime. Nothing I could do about the broken cobwebs, but they weren't as noticeable in the dark up against the pale rock.
"I wonder if Kokabiel will use a flashlight," I said as I swept. He probably wouldn't even think to bring one, though there could be something in the van. A pang pinched my chest and I stopped. Damn. My knuckledusters were in that van along with my backpack and whatever of Roberto's gear Rocky had pulled off me. I loved my dusters.
"Grace?" Cavanaugh said softly. I tensed at the hesitancy in his tone, pretty sure I knew where this was going. "What did you do to me?"
"What do you mean?"
"In the lair."
"You missed a spot there, by the pipe."
He tossed a handful of dirt over the print. "You healed me."
"Oh. That." I shrugged, faking a calm I wished I felt. "Wasn't me. It was that fancy estate jewelry."
"I don't think so."
"Losing your faith, Padre?"
"No, the opposite. I was dying, and now I'm not."
"No you weren't." But he was. Uneven pupils, the fluid from his nose and ears, the blood under his head--all signs of brain trauma and someone who was never going to wake up again.
"Grace."
"Cavanaugh."
"It was a miracle."
I shoved my hair back off my sweaty face, grateful for the faint light. "We've been living with miracles for days now. Maybe the universe decided it didn't want to bench you for the rest of the game."
"You brought me back."
I rolled my eyes and pulled the cross from my pocket, shaking it in his face. "This thing's obviously loaded with powers beyond our comprehension."
"This isn't a joke."
I handed it to him. "No, it's our lives at stake. You take it. You're the one with the big theology guns."
He looked at me as if he didn't believe that and never would, but took the cross. "You might not like it, but you have to accept what you did."
Like hell I did. "Keep moving. We're running out of time."
I swept, he shook handfuls of gravel over the path, neither of us spoke about miracles or divine intervention. I tried hard not to think about them either, but every time I bumped into him I felt...something...like a tug toward the pocket he'd slipped the cross into. Like it was calling to me to pick it back up and do something with it.
This shouldn't be happening. All my life I knew I was weird--it wasn't normal to have monsters chasing you--but I'd thought whatever was wrong had to do with them, not me. Or they'd been after Dad and I was collateral damage.
Every kid grew up wanting to be special, but special sucked. I wanted to be normal.
Daniel appeared in my light beam. "They're here."
Damn. "Already? You sure?"
"I can hear them at the top of the shaft, but they haven't started down yet."
Bonus points for us. "Too scared?"
"Let's hope it slows them down."
We were close to finished, but Libby, Dad, and Roberto were still in the kill zone. I hurried back, staying to the sides of the tunnel and stepping on rocks when I could.
"Time's up," I whispered. This had better work. For the first time in my life, I actually had things and people I didn't want to lose.
"Last charge." Libby covered the last bit of cord, then nodded. "Done. Leave the lamp."
Roberto hung the lantern on a nail near the hole and followed us to the exit tunnel. We traced my path back, staying close to the wall without touching it or disturbing the dirt and webs.
I brought up the rear, washing away any last traces with my makeshift broom. We headed into the escape tunnel and ducked behind an ore cart.
Rock clanged against metal, bouncing down the incline shaft and into the belly of the mine. They hadn't taken long to build up their courage, and they weren't taking their time. A heartbeat later a loud clang echoed and rattled, metal against stone. The upside-down ore cart? Crap, they were moving fast.
"Lights off," I said.
Blackness descended.
And the angels fell.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
No one moved. I barely breathed, watching the blackness ahead and praying for a clue that Kokabiel and his lackeys had taken the bait.
The longest minutes of my life passed before sounds of feet on rock crawled through the inky blackness and reached us. Nothing human about those noises, more akin to giant bugs skittering along the wall in the middle of the night. Gooseflesh rippled my skin and I bit my lip, holding back an undignified whimper.
A hand gently took mine. Strong, male. I gripped it tight.
Moments later, a light thud sounded close by--feet landing on dirt? A second followed, then a third. Rocks skittered and clicked, followed by the scratch of displaced gravel. A pale flash of light broke through and danced across the rock for an instant, reflected from somewhere above.
So they had brought flashlights. Not many, though, or it would be brighter. They could see far distances, but could they see in the dark? Maybe they had low-light vision, or something along a different spectrum like night-vision goggles. Maybe they'd adapted after so long underground. They could be mere feet from us and we'd never know.
No, Daniel would know. If they could see, he could see, and he'd needed some light.
The lantern we'd left as bait glowed pale at the edge of the trapped tunnel. Another thud echoed, larger and heavier than the others. Kokabiel? Maybe Rocky. He was large enough. The hand in mine slipped away and coolness brushed my skin.
I forced myself to breathe slowly, calmly and blanked my mind from the fear. Just think about the trap. I pictured us descending into the hole, gripping the rope in fear. Projected us scrambling over rocks and trying to hide in the deep shadows. It probably wouldn't do any good, I'd always needed skin-to-skin contact before--but any edge we could get could make the difference.
Flashlight beams grew brighter, and a second beam joined the first. Footsteps crunched through gravel at a steady pace. Shadows flickered across the pale lantern light as they followed our trail and entered the tunnel.
I held my breath.
Kokabiel spoke in the angel language, sounding so close, but exactly where we needed him to be. A fangel replied, soft, yet sharp.
BOOM!
The world shook as the blast reverberated in the darkness. The lamp's light vanished, but the flashlight beams danced. More blasts echoed in a short string--bang--bang--bang. Fangels cried out, Kokabiel roared, and the mine shuddered. It groaned, broke. Wood cracked and rock crumbled. The shockwave hit, blowing rock and gravel over us.
Ears ringing, I huddled with the others as sand and bits of wood settled around us. No one moved. I'm not sure we even breathed. The mine kept shaking, louder and louder, and there was no way to tell if we'd gotten them.
A light snicked on behind me, casting its beam toward the entrance of our exit tunnel.
"Everyone okay?" Cavanaugh whispered.
Something stepped into the light. Taller than any Pretty Boy I'd ever seen, wider, its pale skin glistening hard as real marble. Muscular arms hung lower almost to its knees, its hands ending in sharp talons. It barely fit within the tunnel, yet it moved with deadly grace.
"What the hell is that?" I forced the words out, fighting against the fear. Screw what Dandridge believed--this was a demon. A nightmare come to life. More lights clicked on.
"Kokabiel!" Daniel gasped and took a step back.
"No way," I said.
"He's taken the primal form." Daniel held his arms out, shielding us. "It's his battle form."
Fear held me still. "Can you--?"
"No. Run, fast as you can. Don't wait for me. Get to Zack. Go!"
Kokabiel snarled and Daniel lunged, slamming into him at waist height. Kokabiel never budged an inch. He twisted and knocked Daniel away with ease. Wood cracked and chunks of dirt dropped from the roof, but the rumble beyond the fight was growing louder. The mine was still caving, still falling. I was still shaking, too scared to move.
Daniel dragged himself up, but Kokabiel grabbed him by the leg and threw him into the wall on the other side of the tunnel. A chunk of rock broke free and flying shards sliced my cheek.
"Shoot 'em?" Libby shouted.
The fear in her voice pulled me out of my own terror. "Not yet!" I grabbed a chunk of wood and hefted it like a bat. I wasn't leaving Daniel alone to fight this. All I needed was an opening.
Cavanaugh stepped forward, chanting in Latin, Dad's cross in his outstretched hand. No light this time, no glow. Maybe we'd used up all its mojo. Maybe it didn't work on actual demons. Or maybe it just needed both of us to do any good.
"Silence, priest." Kokabiel snatched up Daniel and flung him at Cavanaugh, knocking him off his feet. Both tumbled back into the shadows of the tunnel.
"Now," I yelled.
Soakers rose and holy water gushed. The streams caught Kokabiel from multiple angles and he shrieked, sparking blue as a gas flame in the shadows. He blurred past me and knocked those armed with Super Soakers to the ground. The water guns skittered off into the tunnel.
"Pray you're worth this trouble," he said to me, low and threatening. He glared, his beautiful face now made of sharp angles and planes, his marble skin smoking and sparking as the holy water dripped off him. "If your blood fails me, I will soak the ground with it."
