A Darkness Strange and Lovely ssad-2

by Susan Dennard

  But Oliver didn’t even notice that Daniel held him in a stranglehold. All he saw was me. “Where have you been, El? I couldn’t sense you—I couldn’t find you! I thought you were dead. I searched and searched and strained, but I couldn’t feel our bond—”

  “Enough,” Daniel snarled. He wrenched upward, closing off Oliver’s air.

  “Stop!” I shrieked, and this time I got to my feet, only to find Joseph leaping to his—a crystal clamp in hand. “He won’t hurt you! Please!”

  Daniel looked to Joseph, who nodded once. Daniel released Oliver, and the demon toppled to me, yanking me into an embrace.

  “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice shaking. “For yelling and for leaving—I thought

  I had lost you. I thought you were dead. But you aren’t—you’re alive and you’re here. . . .” He pulled back, as if suddenly realizing where “here” was as well as the absence of my clothing. “What the hell happened? When I couldn’t sense you, I went to the hotel. They told me you had gone to the ball with

  Madame Marineaux, so I came here. But when I reached a few blocks away, suddenly I could feel you again. So I came running as fast as I could . . .” His head swiveled as he took in the dark tunnel. “But I still don’t understand what happened.”

  “Joseph thinks I was under a compulsion spell.”

  Oliver reared back. “The amulet? The Marquis’s?”

  “The Marquis has not been here tonight,” Joseph said, his crystal clamp still held at the ready.

  “That doesn’t mean his amulet could not be cast.” Oliver turned a cool eye on the Spirit-Hunter.

  “They are meant to be used long-distance.”

  Joseph bristled. “Yet if, as you believe, the Marquis’s cane has seventy-three compulsion spells in it—”

  “Seventy-three?” I interrupted. “Have there not been seventy-four Morts?”

  “No,” Daniel said, his eyes never leaving Oliver.

  “Then where were you all day? After . . . after . . .” I didn’t finish the sentence. They knew what I meant.

  “We followed a lead on Jie,” Joseph answered. “It led us all across the city.”

  “And?” I asked hopefully.

  Daniel’s eyes slid to mine, thin and hard. “The trail went cold at the train station, and we were late for this damned ball.”

  “What if,” Oliver said quietly to me, “you were meant to be the seventy-fourth victim?”

  Daniel sneered. “Except that she almost drowned. A dead victim ain’t any good for a sacrifice.”

  “Unless she wasn’t supposed to drown at all.” Oliver pointed into the darkness. “What if she was meant to go down that tunnel?”

  “Tunnel?” Joseph whirled around. “I see no tunnel.”

  “Well, I do.” Oliver sniffed derisively. “There’s a crack in the bricks at the end of this reservoir.

  Maybe it goes somewhere.”

  At an almost imperceptible nod from Joseph, Daniel lifted the lantern and crept off along the flagstones. The light swung with his steps, and beams of yellow shot over the water—and illuminated a path running alongside it. Soon enough, Joseph, Oliver, and I were left in blackness and Daniel was nothing more than a beacon in the dark.

  And still Joseph’s hand stayed around his crystal clamp. “Even if that tunnel goes somewhere, it does not explain how Eleanor was bespelled. Everything about her behavior and lack of memory suggests she was compelled.”

  “Does it really matter how she was compelled?” Oliver demanded. “The fact is that this Marquis or demon is powerful enough to make an amulet and powerful enough to compel his victims. So what actually matters is that you’re up against something much bloody stronger than you.” He sounded almost pleased by this.

  I, however, was not. Yet before I could speak, Daniel shouted, “There’s a tunnel here.” He jumped into a jog toward us, and with each step closer, the light grew brighter, until he stood right beside me and I had to squint to see.

  Daniel set the lantern on the floor. “It looks like it connects to a limestone quarry.”

  Joseph frowned. “Limestone quarry?”

  “Yeah. Most of Paris is riddled with underground quarries—limestone, gypsum . . . there’s the catacombs too.”

  “Wi, but what good would such quarries be to a demon?”

  “A lot,” Oliver muttered. “Seems obvious to me. This cellar here isn’t the only entrance into the quarries. All the tunnels connect, and there are entrances all over Paris. This demon simply has to trick his victims into any one of those limestone holes, lure them through the mines to his lair, and voilà.”

  “Limestone,” I repeated softly, thinking of the burned-out palace and how the white dust had clung to my skirts. How Oliver had groused, Do you know how hard it is to get limestone off a suit?

  I had seen that same dust somewhere else. . . . Then it hit: the butler at Madame Marineaux’s. “The white dust on the butler!” I turned to Joseph. “You said yourself that it was on several bodies. It’s limestone—it’s from these mines. This demon is taking his victims there.”

  Joseph’s eyes thinned. “You could be right. It would be a safe place for the demon to hide, and if there are truly entrances all over the city, then these quarries would give the demon citywide access to victims. If it drew its victims in with a compulsion spell, it would never even have to leave the underground.”

  “But why use compulsion spells to make more compulsion spells?” Daniel asked. “That doesn’t make sense.”

  “Non,” Joseph murmured. “Yet the rest of it does. The white dust on the victims and . . . the fact that they were all missing a loved one.” He looked at me, his head at a thoughtful angle. “You were shouting ‘Clarence’ when you ran here. What if you were chasing an apparition? Each of les Morts of which I can think were missing a loved one.”

  I gasped. “You’re right! The butler’s wife had just died. And when I first arrived, the Dead that morning had been a baker who had lost his son.”

  “Well,” Daniel said gruffly, “there’s only one way to find out if this theory is right.”

  I nodded. “We go into the mines and see.”

  “We nothing,” Joseph said.

  “I have to agree,” Oliver chimed in. “We nothing, El. You and I—we need to get out of here. Find a new place to stay, get some food . . . and definitely get you some dry clothes before you freeze to death.”

  I stared, speechless. I had forgotten the cold. Forgotten my lack of clothing. Forgotten everything but les Morts.

  Daniel cleared his throat. “You can have my spare clothes.” His head dipped to his sack. “But after that, you and that thing need to leave.”

  “Agreed.” Oliver nodded once. “The creature in the quarries is too strong for us, El. Let them die trying to stop it—”

  “No.” I thrust out my chin. “No, Oliver. What if the Marquis or the demon or whatever’s behind les Morts also has Jie?”

  “Then she’s probably dead,” he answered matter-of-factly.

  I clenched my teeth. “No. I refuse to believe that. Not yet.” I advanced on Joseph. “You cannot face something this strong by yourself. You need my help.”

  Joseph turned toward Daniel as if I hadn’t spoken at all. “You ought to keep your dry clothes—

  wear them yourself. Eleanor can have my suit, and then we need to—”

  “Do not ignore me!” I shouted. “You have no chance against this necromancy. And you have almost no equipment!”

  “Silence, Eleanor.” Joseph did not turn to look at me. “How many bullets do you have, Daniel?”

  My blood warmed, rage escalating through me. I would not be ignored. Not like this, and not now.

  “Do you even know how to fight a demon, Joseph? Are you willing to risk your lives and Jie’s all because you’re too stubborn to work with a necromancer?”

  His body tensed, and he looked right at me. “A necromancer who lied to me. A necromancer with a demon, and a necro
mancer who almost killed people today with her foolishness.”

  “You cannot stop me from coming with you.”

  Joseph rounded on me. “I most certainly can, Eleanor.” He lifted the clamp, and the crystal sparkled yellow in the lantern light. “And I most certainly will.”

  “Do it,” I snarled. “But I will—”

  Daniel stepped in front of me. “That’s enough, Empress. Both of you are wasting time.” He glanced at Joseph. “Just let her go. It obviously ain’t her demon that’s causing les Morts, and maybe . . . maybe she’s right. Maybe we can’t face this thing by ourselves.”

  “Now wait a minute,” Oliver declared. “We are not going in there, El. You are not going to risk your life—and mine—for them. They don’t care about you!”

  “No,” I answered, my eyes scoring into Joseph’s, “but this isn’t about them, Oliver. It’s about Jie.

  About les Morts. About making a choice to do the right thing.”

  For several long moments Joseph matched my stare, his nostrils flaring. But at last he gave a single, curt nod. “You may come, but only if you swear to me that you will obey my every command and cast no spells. No. Black. Magic.”

  I hesitated. I didn’t want to obey him—and I certainly didn’t want to deny my power if it would help find Jie . . . but I did want to join them, and if that meant cooperating—or at least pretending to cooperate—then so be it.

  “I swear.”

  “Good. Now get dressed. We are going to end this once and for all.”

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Joseph’s trousers and shirt were too long . . . but they were at least dry. As I sat on the flagstones and stuffed the boots with pieces of petticoat, I stretched my mind to remember the ball—to recall some detail that might help explain how I had fallen so easily into a spell, but I came up with nothing.

  For now, I could only hope that one day the memories would return.

  Somewhere in the dark beside me, I could hear Daniel changing as well. Joseph stood with the lantern at the tunnel’s mouth. Oliver skulked along the water, staring into its black depths. He twisted around and approached. “Are you sure this is what you want to do?”

  “It isn’t a want,” I said, tying my final bootlace. “It’s a need.”

  Oliver held out his hand and helped me stand, but he didn’t release my fingers. “And you realize how strong this demon is, right?”

  I nodded, even though I had no idea, not even an inkling, of how strong a demon could be. In the end it did not matter, for it would not change what I intended to do. “You don’t have to come, Oliver.”

  “But I will. If I hadn’t left you, you wouldn’t have almost drowned.”

  I squeezed his hand. “And if I had not been careless with Elijah’s letters, you would not have had to leave.”

  “Empress?” Daniel called softly.

  I turned and in the flickering lantern light saw him padding close. Four pistols hung in a leather bandolier across his chest.

  Daniel didn’t meet my eyes. “We’re going now.” Then he strode past me, heading for the lantern.

  For Joseph. For the tunnel into darkness.

  I hurried after, Oliver on my heels. Soon enough, I could see the tunnel: a jagged crack in the white wall with barely enough space through which to squeeze.

  “Look.” Joseph waved Daniel over. “There is blood. And cloth.”

  I crept closer, until I too could make out the dark stain on the bricks as well as several tiny tatters of brown fabric. “Signs of the Dead?”

  Joseph did not answer. He merely backed away from the crack and said, “Eleanor and the demon go first.”

  Daniel’s gaze flickered uncertainly to me. “Or maybe I should go first.”

  “Let Eleanor’s demon face its kin.”

  “Unless . . .” Daniel swallowed. “Unless he leads us into a trap. I think you should let me go first.”

  He scratched his neck. “Eleanor and the demon can pick up the rear.”

  Joseph nodded curtly and handed Daniel the lantern. Then, after checking that his bandolier was well fastened, Daniel hefted the lantern high and slithered through the crack. Joseph squeezed in just behind.

  I threw Oliver a glance.

  “No chance you’ll reconsider?” he asked, his eyebrows high.

  “None.”

  He spread his hands. “Then lead the way, Master Eleanor.”

  I wedged myself in, and after wriggling through several feet of rough rock that scraped and latched onto my clothes, I finally toppled out the other side. Water dripped from the reddish walls like blood, and I couldn’t tell if the rust color of the stones was from the lantern’s flame or their natural color.

  Daniel’s face flickered ahead. He was waiting, his head crooked to keep from hitting it on the low ceiling.

  “There are clear signs of passage,” Joseph murmured, his gaze cast down. “Many footsteps have come this way—dragging, uncoordinated footsteps, I would say. And if it was this easy for us to enter here, then why not les Morts?”

  I glanced down, trying to see whatever Joseph saw, but I did not have enough light.

  Seconds later Oliver squirmed out behind me, his yellow eyes glowing in the dim light. Without a word, Daniel pivoted around and crept off.

  The passage descended steadily, and the air turned thicker—as if I were breathing in the stones themselves. Our feet crunched on the sandy floor, but soon the walls sweated so heavily, the droplets collected on the ground in unseen puddles. Cold water sloshed into my boots, numbing my toes.

  Yet on we went, the tunnels twisting and winding like a snake. Always sloping down. Always growing colder, until eventually my breath curled out in smoky tendrils. How many years—or centuries—had Parisians been mining beneath their city? To have opened up a honeycomb of caves so extensive and so deep . . . I felt like an ant descending into the anthill. But instead of a queen, we sought a demon.

  I do not know how far we traveled—it felt as if we walked for hours—but by the time the ceiling finally lifted enough for Daniel to unfurl his lanky form, I was bone-cold and shambling like the Dead.

  And all I wanted was for this descent to end. I was more than a little tempted to call on my power —not only for warmth, but for courage. Yet if Joseph sensed me casting a spell . . . It was not worth his wrath. Not when we were this close.

  Of course, several twisting tunnels later I was already regretting my decision to ignore my power, for now we were not only cold and exhausted, we were forced to stop.

  Two branches split off.

  I hugged my arms to my chest. How much longer? I bounced on my toes, trying to get feeling back into them. Trying to quell my impatience and ignore the now insistent craving for magic.

  The lantern cast shadows on the wall in phantom-shapes—long figures with even longer arms that seemed to wriggle and writhe in time with Daniel’s and Joseph’s soft murmuring.

  I licked my lips. Fight the magic a bit longer. To distract myself, I whispered, “Oliver, how do we stop the demon?”

  “If it’s bound to the Marquis, it won’t be too difficult. Its magic will be limited to the Marquis’s commands, and we simply . . . I don’t know, rope it up.”

  “What if it’s unbound?”

  “Then we’ll be in trouble.” He didn’t get to explain further, though, for Daniel suddenly declared, “This one.” He stood before the right passage. “It has fresh tracks.” And with that he whirled around, spraying us briefly in light, and then strode off, with Joseph behind.

  I scampered after, grateful to move. But we almost instantly stopped again, for our way was blocked by an old cave-in.

  “No, no!” I cried. A mound of dusty rubble stood as high as my chest. By now my body was so numb, I could no longer feel my fingers as I rubbed them on my cheeks.

  But I bit back the tears brewing in my chest. I was embarrassed to be reacting this emotionally. No one else was showing frustration, but no one else was having to constantly
resist the pull of magic either . . . and I couldn’t resist much longer.

  Daniel clambered up a few steps, and then, leaning on the mound, he held out the lantern. “It’s not a dead end,” he said softly. “We can get through the space at the top. The cave-in doesn’t go far beyond that, but . . .” He looked up and inspected the ceiling. “That ceiling ain’t stable. We’ve gotta be real careful. If it all collapses, we’ll be stuck on the other side.” He glanced back at Joseph.

  Joseph set his jaw. “I . . . I believe we have no other choice. If we see no signs of les Morts on the other side, then we will return.”

  I screwed my eyes shut and prayed we would find signs. We had not gone this far simply to turn back.

  Daniel climbed up the mound, his feet sliding and pebbles flying. At the top, he set the lantern in the dirt. “I’ll leave it here so you can see . . .” His eyes slid down to me. Then, almost as if he was coming to some decision, he set his jaw. “Empress, you bring the lantern through.”

  For a second I thought Joseph would argue. But after a momentary hesitation, he planted his foot in the limestone and started to ascend. Meanwhile, Daniel scrabbled around and crawled into the tiny space above the cave-in.

  I moved forward, but Oliver grabbed my hand.

  “What?”

  He shook his head, clearly waiting for Joseph to disappear through the rubble. Then he bent in close, whispering in my ear, “I will only say this once more, and then I fear it will be too late.”

  “Say what?”

  “We can still turn back. Take that lantern and run.”

  “And abandon them?” My shoulders locked up. “In the dark?”

  He gave a small shrug. “I don’t care about them. At all. And I still don’t know why you do.”

  I didn’t answer him. Instead, I spun on my heel, dug my hands into the powdery rock, and climbed.

  At the top, there was just enough space for me to wriggle through on my stomach and then twist around to snag the lantern. A few more feet of squirming and I slid out the other side. Joseph took the lantern, and Daniel gripped my hand and helped me clamber down.

  But the moment my heavy boot hit the hard floor, Daniel released it. He even wiped his hands on his pants, as if I’d contaminated him with my touch.