Dark Secrets Box Set

by Angela M Hudson

  I pulled back a little. “Are there stairs there?”

  “Come on. You’ll see.” Mike drew his phone from his pocket and opened the torch, shining the white light down the barrel of a cavernous hole; stone steps led away in a curve around a cylindrical column, hiding who knew what.

  “Mike?” I laid a shaky hand to the air before me. “I don’t like it down here.”

  “You’ll be fine, baby,” he said, placing my hand onto the wall. “Just follow the curves and you won’t fall.”

  “Why is it so steep?” I couldn’t see how far down this stairwell went, but it had a feel to it, a tilt, like walking down a really big hill.

  “It goes pretty deep under the manor, Ara. What did you expect?”

  I tried to shrug, but my shoulders were too stiff.

  When the door closed behind us with a thud, sending an echo into the pits below, I squealed, hearing my own voice hit every step in this tunnel before bouncing back to embarrass me repeatedly.

  “Ha! And you wanted to come down here alone.”

  “I didn’t know it would be this scary.” I moved closer to Mike and took his hand. “Is the other tunnel like this one?”

  “Worse,” he scoffed, angling his torch to show the steps directly below our feet; they were all I could see, all I would focus on. The walls rose up around us, becoming higher and higher as we descended beneath the manor, and when we finally came to the base of the stairs, the slimy brown stones spread out to a corridor—longer than my eyes could make out, with a roof low enough that Mike had to hunch a little.

  “Can’t you make that torch any brighter?” I nodded at the phone.

  “This is as bright as it gets. You wanna hope I don’t run out of battery.” He laughed. I did not find that funny at all. “You could use your electric light thing—in your hands.”

  I held my fingertips in front of me. “I don’t think it works that way, Mike.”

  “Try it.”

  Among the eerie weight of fear this darkness pressed on me, I found a solid little thought—a happy one, and focused on it: David; his smile, his arms, his love. But despite the static charge in my skin, the light stayed dormant. I stretched my fingers, making them stiff, as if that would help, but it didn’t.

  “I can’t, Mike. It won’t work when I’m scared.”

  “It works if you’re gonna lose a fight.”

  “Yeah, but that’s because I hate losing.”

  “Well,” he said, and I noticed there was no echo to his voice, despite the empty, cavernous tunnel, “maybe you should imagine you’ll lose a bet. Maybe I’ll bet you can’t make your light work down here.”

  I smiled. “Nah. I don’t really feel like having a headache today anyway.”

  “You still getting those?”

  I nodded, but he probably didn’t see it through the darkness. “If I’m on my own, just shooting stuff, I don’t usually get it.”

  “Right. Well, we just need to exercise it. It’s like a muscle. The more you use it, the stronger it’ll get.”

  “I’ll just have to take your word for it,” I said.

  “That’d be a first.”

  “Shut up.” I aimed a soft punch at his arm, but missed, feeling his shoulder blade under my knuckles instead. He laughed, and we walked along for a while in silence then, our footsteps and my labored breathing the only other sounds. I’d expected to hear screams of terror or moaning and groaning from our tortured prisoners, even expected to be grabbed at by reaching hands of despair, but as I ran my guiding touch along the wall, I noticed that, not only were there no horrible sounds, but no cell doors either. It was just one long blank wall, leading to a black vortex a few meters in front where the light was too weak to reach.

  I looked across at Mike. I could just see his jaw, his elbow and his wrist where he held the light, and I knew I was safe with him. Was also really glad he came with me.

  “Glad I came with you now?” he asked, grinning.

  “No. I could handle this on my own.” I stepped out of the safe glow of the light. “I wasn’t planning to set them free or anything.”

  “I wouldn’t put it past you, my sweet friend.”

  “Even if I did, they’re children, Mike.” I looked up at him. “Do you get that? Children.”

  “And that is exactly why I’m coming.” He pointed at me. “The Lilithians don’t trust them, Ara. There has to be a reason for that.”

  “Have you been down to see them yet?”

  “No.”

  “Why?”

  “I dunno, Ar. ’Cause I haven’t.” He rubbed his neck, rolling it a little.

  As we walked, a rancid smell of decay seeped in and swathed us like humid raw meat. And the worst part was, I actually knew that smell only too well. I covered my nose. “David told me once that the Immortal Damned are fed live humans. That’s true, isn’t it?”

  “Far as I know.”

  “And that’s what I can smell: the decomposed bodies?”

  “What’s left of them, yeah.”

  It made me tense knowing I was breathing the scent of death, of life stolen under panic and fear. “That’s horrible.”

  “Yep. But the Damned won’t eat them if they’re already dead. It’s the kill, the stalk, the terror they thrive on. Not just blood.”

  I swallowed. “Those cages are secure, right?”

  Mike laughed. “Yes. We’ve only ever had one escape.”

  “Really? Did it kill anyone?”

  “It ripped the flesh off a maid’s torso, but she was immortal, so she actually recovered.”

  “Guess it’s a good thing we’re immortal then.”

  He scoffed. “Immortal. Not undying. You know that. If it’d taken her head off, she’d have been dead.”

  “Or the heart, right?”

  “What’d you mean?”

  “Jason took my heart out and I stayed dead until he put it back.” I rubbed my chest, dropping my hand as soon as I realized I was doing it. “If they ripped the heart out, would a Created Lilithian stay dead?”

  “I think so.”

  “What if we put it back?”

  “Providing the Damned didn’t actually eat the heart, they may regenerate.”

  “Ew. So you wanna hope you never lose a body part then?”

  “Yeah, well, not a vital one.”

  “Is it the same for you?”

  “What?”

  “Death. Can you die like I can?”

  He sighed heavily. “A bit easier, actually. From what I’m told, if you slice the back of my neck, you know, sever the spinal cord, I’d be gone.”

  “Would you come back if we regenerated you?”

  “I don’t think so. Created Lilithians don’t—not from that.”

  “Why do I?”

  “Well, you technically don’t either. Once your soul leaves your body, you reincarnate. There’s no going back.”

  “But Jason said I needed some serum to kill my kind—to stay dead.”

  “Well, that’s a load of bullshit, Ara. If he’d not put your heart back in your body, or if your head had been chopped off, you’d have stayed dead.”

  “But not real death. He said that my soul stays tethered to the realm of life—that it’s really hard to sever the connection.”

  He rubbed his chin. “Did he?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Hm.”

  “What’s hm?”

  “Just… there may be some truth to that. I read somewhere that if a body is rendered useless, but the soul hasn’t been untied, they wander the earth for eternity, and that’s how we get ghosts.”

  “So… what, because I’m a Pure Blood, my soul can’t be untethered?”

  “I’m not sure, baby. Guess we’ll have to do a bit more reading.”

  “I could ask Arthur.”

  “What would he know about it?”

  “He knows quite a bit.”

  “Yeah, well let’s just keep him out of it for now. Ask your husband instead.”

/>   “What would David know?”

  “More than you might think, kiddo.”

  I smiled to myself. He hadn’t called me that in ages. “So, being that we’re Lilithian—quite close to human—will the Damned try to eat us if we go in the cage?”

  “Ara, they try to eat vampires. And they won’t just eat you, they’ll toy with you first, make you really scared so your blood warms.”

  “No, they won’t.” I smirked to myself. “You’re just trying to scare me.”

  I heard him laugh, and when I looked up at him, I had to laugh too.

  “You look like a big uncle playing in his nephew’s cubby house,” I said.

  “Yeah, I think we’ll take the other passage next time.” He reached up to touch the roof without any effort. “This was built in a time when humans weren’t quite as tall.”

  “It’s not too low for me.” I shrugged.

  “Ara, you can walk straight in a tube slide.”

  “Hey.” I flicked my hand out at him.

  “Ow.” He rubbed his chest. “You gotta stop slapping me.”

  “Aw, doesn’t baby like a little slap?”

  “Me? I love a slap. I just like to be the one doing the slapping.” He gave my butt a soft whack, to which I returned a little squeal.

  “I can’t believe you just did that.”

  “Meh, it’ll do you some good. And what’re you gonna do about it?” he said, shining the torch in my face; I covered my eyes from the almost blue flash. “You gonna tell the king on me?”

  “Yes,” I said, pushing his hand down, seeing the grin he wore behind the light’s glare.

  “Ha! He’d probably shake my hand for disciplining you.”

  “Yeah, probably.” I looked away, smile dropping with the ghostly sound of dripping water. An unnerving cold moved in, layering my tongue with a strange metal tang. I moved saliva around in my mouth, trying to swallow the taste down.

  “Right.” Mike angled the light to show a string of lanterns hanging from the arched ceiling. “Look for matches.”

  “Matches?”

  “Yeah, you know, little sticks that bring flame.”

  “Ha-ha.” I dropped to my knees and scrambled around for the feel of a box or something, but there was only dirt, really cold dirt.

  “Here. Got ’em.”

  “Erk. Of course you do.” I stood up and dusted my hands on my jeans. “You just wanted to see me get all dirty.”

  “Or I just thought you should get down on your knees and pray.” He laughed.

  “Yeah, how ’bout I pray for Lilithians to have night vision as good as vampires do?”

  “Great idea. While you’re at it, get me the power to read minds, will you? That’d be a handy tool.”

  “No problem,” I said drily. “Want a sense of humor, too—among other miracles?”

  “Are you saying I’m not funny?”

  “Who me? Never.”

  “Good, because I might just have another smack on the butt sitting dormant in these hands.” He laughed. “And shut up, I can’t concentrate on lighting this match with you talking at me.”

  A golden flame came to life then, warming the eeriness of the cellblock in the small circle where Mike and I stood, but outside that, the flickering wick of the lantern cast dancing shadows in a creepy theatre show on the walls.

  “Where are the cells?” I asked.

  “At the end.” He held his arm straight, the lantern swinging from his curled finger.

  I grabbed the base and held it still. “That’s freaky. Don’t let it swing like that. I feel like the cliché blond chick in a horror film, you know, the one who gets killed first.”

  “Nah,” he said, and started walking. “Your boobs aren’t big enough. You’ll be the one who lives to tell the tale.”

  “Hey!” I folded my arms and followed him.

  Twenty or so paces ahead, I could just make out hollows in the walls on both sides, and as we neared them, the dry scent of dirt made me want to take shallower breaths.

  “You okay, babe?” Mike walked closer to me, matching my footsteps exactly.

  “Why are they so silent?”

  “No reason to make noise, I guess.”

  He was right. There were no windows, no sunlight, no fresh air, not even a draft. Just… stillness, darkness. When we reached the end of the tunnel, I peered in through the bars on both sides. There were two cells sitting directly across from each other, about three car spaces wide, but completely empty. “Where are all the other cells? I know we have more than two.”

  “Through here.” He tapped a brick wall. “This leads back out to the other passage.”

  “There’s no door, though.”

  “Not all is what it seems.” He winked, then walked to one end of the wall and slipped his hand through it.

  “What the hell?” I ran over and traced the length of his arm, following it through the wall. “It’s an illusion?”

  “Yes.” He pulled his hand back. He hadn’t put it through the wall at all—there was no wall there. It ended short on that side, but it was so dark in here that, from the way the bricks were lined up, no one would know there was an opening. “Pretty cool, hey?”

  “Hell yeah.”

  “They say de la Mort is pretty much made up of walls just like this.” He tapped the bricks with a flat palm.

  “And that’s why you want the map.”

  He looked back at me, lifting the lantern a little to see my face. “Yes.”

  “Fine. But I’m telling Arthur you have it.”

  “Fine. Then I’ll tell David you drank Arthur’s blood the other day.”

  I grumbled to myself. “Fine. I won’t tell Arthur you have the map.”

  “I knew you’d come to your senses.” He wandered over and shone the lantern into the cage. “Can you see them?”

  “No. Are they even in there?”

  “They cluster in the back corner.” A man popped up suddenly.

  “Oh, God!” I touched a hand to my racing heart. “You scared me.”

  “Sorry, Majesty.” His ghastly old face showed in the dim light. The folds in his skin made deep shadows along his jaw and under his eyes, while his crooked nose darkened the gaps in his teeth behind a curt smile. He walked with a hunched gait, as if he’d trolled these low-roofed tunnels for too many centuries and now lacked the ability to stand tall.

  “Who are you?” I asked.

  “Caretaker. Folks call me Mr. Keeper.” He turned away and nodded into the cell. “Strange, really, how they all bunch together like that.” He held his own lantern up to the bars, and I saw them then—little faces, about twenty of them—all huddling against each other like puppies in a small box.

  “Oh, my God.” I covered my mouth.

  “Yerp. No feelings, no sense, yet they all seem to bunch up like they’re scared.”

  “They are scared.” I grabbed the set of keys from the caretaker’s dirt-covered hands. “They’re children.”

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” the hideous old man warned. “It’s feeding day; you’ll get ripped to shreds.”

  “I’m willing to take the risk,” I said, and as I jammed the key in the lock, Mike grabbed my hand.

  “Okay, Ara, you’ve had your fun. It stops there.”

  “But Mike!”

  “No buts.” He took the keys and hooked them over a nail on the magic wall. “Baby, even if they were capable of humanity, which they’re not, they’re hungry. Look how unreasonable you get when you’re hungry.”

  My heart grew bigger and split open inside, filling my chest with a tight ache when I saw the gaze of the few who dared to look up: sad black eyes, like opals, set deeply into pale faces absent of innocence and animation. “How often do you feed them?”

  “Couple of humans a month,” the caretaker said.

  I spun around quickly to face him. “What? That’s not enough for that many children.”

  “Ara.” Mike stepped forward, reaching. “Move away fro
m the cage.”

  I sidestepped quickly, catching a glimpse of a gray hand stretching through the bars, just out of reach of my hair. The child hissed at me, his mouth gaping like a hollow cave, his eyes black and empty.

  “That was close.” I chuckled nervously.

  “Too close. Now, move a few more steps away,” Mike said, but his eyes went wide, the world going cold all around his soul as my head jerked awkwardly to one side, my feet leaving the ground as my spine hit the bars and the wind burst from my lungs in a short squeal. Solid little hands circled my face, ripping at my hair. I reached up to pry them away as Mike darted forward, driving his elbow between my neck and the bars. But there were too many—grabbing my skin, scratching it, their dry, sour-tasting fingers slipping into the corner of my mouth and yanking my head against the metal.

  They refused to give up, fighting so hard against Mike that I felt like a sack of beans on the backseat of a minivan driving off-road. I couldn’t even scream, couldn’t get a breath past the thumping in my throat.

  “Snap her neck!” the caretaker yelled over the chaos. “Snap her neck, and they’ll back off.”

  My eyes shot to Mike’s and a split second passed as he played that thought out in his mind.

  “No,” I breathed.

  “Sorry, Ar.” His hands moved in slow motion, one cupping my chin, the other firmly grasping the back of my head.

  I screamed, jolting forward as tiny talons dragged my feet backward through the bars. Mike dropped me, reaching out quick and catching my hair as I went down. I heard it rip as my elbows hit the dirt—felt it come loose from my scalp in a big clump that he threw to the floor.

  “It’s okay, baby. I got you.” His feet parted, his hand coming down to grab my arm just as my body spun, slipping forward at full speed toward the cage until I wore the bars like a metal pair of underwear, driving into my flesh, threatening to rip me apart from the middle-up. I screamed out as my shoes came away, then the legs of my jeans, leaving my shins and ankles bare, cold. I couldn’t kick, couldn’t drag myself away from the cage. And Mike pulled, lifting my arms above my head, fighting a battle of tug-of-war with starving immortals.

  “Get back!” a thunderous voice sent a shockwave of fear over the tunnels.