And all my earlier irritation flared bright. I had not asked for his help. Not to mention, he’d had no trouble touching me after I had almost drowned. No trouble jamming his lips on mine or pressing me to his chest.
The scrape of dirt told us Oliver was on his way, so Daniel held the lantern high. There were distinct footprints all around, and I breathed a grateful sigh.
At Joseph’s nod, Daniel resumed his march into the low tunnels. But it didn’t stay low for long—
nor did it stay narrow. Soon Daniel could stand upright, while I could spread out both of my arms and not reach the walls, and the ground beneath us became smooth. Well-worn as if very well-trod.
We should have realized this was a bad sign. We should have known right then to stop—especially when we reached an abrupt turn in the tunnel.
But we were too desperate to reach the end, so we traipsed right around that blind bend. Or rather, Daniel did. . . .
And then his voice roared out. “Dead!”
Panic flooded my brain, and for a heartbeat all I could do was stand there, frozen.
Then came the crack of a pistol shot, and my body surged to life. I twisted around and shoved
Oliver into a run.
Behind me came the scraping sound of bone on bone. Crack! The blue glow of electricity flashed through the tunnel.
“Faster!” Daniel cried, his voice right behind me. And the snapping of bones just behind him.
So I hurtled faster, the lantern light listing and rocking and Oliver just ahead. Until Oliver stopped and spun around.
We were at the cave-in.
“Command me!” he shouted, his hands flying up.
“Stop the Dead! Sum veritas!”
“Dormi!”
Daniel’s arms flew around my waist, and he yanked me past Oliver just as the demon’s blue magic erupted. We hit the pile of rubble, knocking down fresh bits of ceiling.
But the limestone falling on my face barely registered over the stampeding feet and the empty eye sockets everywhere. There were far too many to fight with our fists. We needed magic—lots of it.
“Dormi!” Oliver roared again, and a few corpses on the front line toppled over—only to be replaced by more skeletal claws.
Daniel fired a pulse pistol, knocking back the next wave. But more followed.
And in the distance, somewhere in the middle of the sea of skeletons, electricity thundered over and over again.
I let my instincts take over then. As I sucked in my breath, I drew in all my power with it. Then I hurled the magic out. It was like the time at Madame Marineaux’s, but now, instead of one corpse there were three—no, there were four, five . . . seven. Somehow I anchored myself to seven Dead.
“Stay,” I murmured. They did not stay. Nor did they come as quickly—though the corpses behind them were not slowed. Their bone fingers reached over felled corpses and fought to get by.
“Dormi!” Oliver cried again, and three of my seven crumpled. Instantly, I mentally grabbed onto the next corpses.
“Stay, stay, stay.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Daniel reload his pulse pistols, his eyes never leaving the Dead.
It was then that I noticed that Joseph’s electricity had stopped. No more blue flashes, no more thundering blasts.
My grip on the Dead faltered. Two hurtled for us, fingers reaching and jaws wide.
Pop! They collapsed, and pistol smoke wafted into my nose. “We need to get out of here!” Daniel shouted.
No one moved. Oliver continued bellowing, “Dormi!” Yet with each of his attacks, fewer and fewer corpses fell.
And though I still chanted “Stay, stay, stay,” fewer and fewer corpses listened.
“Go!” Joseph screamed, his voice distant and desperate.
Daniel lunged forward, as if to force his way into the Dead. I threw myself at him. “No, you can’t
—”
“He needs me!”
“And you’ll die.”
Daniel hesitated, his gaze whipping from the lines of never-ending skeletons to the rapidly draining Oliver. Then he snatched my hand and hauled me to the pile of limestone. “Climb!” He twisted to Oliver. “You too! Climb! I’ll cover you.”
He flipped out two pulse pistols and aimed at the shambling bodies—bodies that crawled over their felled brothers, their heels sinking into ancient flesh.
Pop! Pop! I raced up the rubble, my hands digging into the dirt and my legs propelling me up as fast as I could go. Oliver was right on my heels, and in his hand was the lantern.
We reached the top. I pushed Oliver in front and twisted back to get Daniel. “Come on! Hurry!”
Pop! More Dead toppled over, almost at Daniel’s feet. He wouldn’t make it.
“Hurry!” I shrieked, reaching for him.
“I have one pistol left and no time to reload.” He grabbed hold of my hand, and I poured all my strength into towing him up. He reached the top, and the Dead climbed up after.
“Go!” He shoved me violently into the narrow space. “Faster, Empress— go! I’ll hold ’em off.”
I did as he said, dragging myself with my hands and kicking with my heels. Dirt crumbled over me, and I thought the ceiling would fall at any moment. . . .
Then Oliver had his fingers around mine. He was yanking me through and into the calm of the empty tunnel beyond. I was about to tumble down the limestone, to keep running, until I realized that
Daniel wasn’t behind me.
I twisted around. “Daniel!” I met his eyes, wide and scared.
And still faraway on the other side of the cave-in.
I knew without even seeing it that the Dead had reached him.
“Shoot them!” I screamed. “Shoot!”
But he didn’t. He aimed his pistol directly at the ceiling, and in a final roar he screamed, “Run!”
and pulled the trigger.
Chapter Twenty-two
“No!” I launched myself at the cave-in. The entire tunnel was blocked, but I had to get through. I kicked rocks aside and flung at the dirt. “Please, please, please, no!”
Oliver’s arms slung around me. “Stop! You’ll bring down more of the ceiling.”
“But they’re on the other side!” I shrieked. “Daniel’s on the other side!”
“And we can’t do anything about that now!”
“We can go through!”
“No, El, we can’t.” He spun me around to face him. “Your man shot the ceiling, and he did it on purpose.”
“B-but why?” I found I was shaking and . . . and crying. “They have no light and th-there’s hundreds of Dead.”
“I don’t think the Dead were hurting them.”
“Wh-what?”
“Joseph—he kept blasting them down and was still able to shout. He didn’t sound hurt. More . . . detained. Think about it, El. Why would the demon want to hurt anyone who walked into its lair?”
“It . . . it wouldn’t.” I pressed the heels of my hands to my eyes. “It cannot sacrifice a dead victim.” My hands dropped. “But that means Joseph and Daniel will both be . . .” I spun back around and lunged for the rubble. “We have to get through!”
“But there’s no point. ” He was yelling at me. “If we get through, then we’ll be demon-food.”
“But we can stop the Dead!”
“No, we can’t.” He shoved in front of me and gripped my chin. “There were hundreds of bodies back there. This demon must collect them from the catacombs and use them as sentries to patrol the tunnels. I can’t take down more than a few Dead at a time, El, and you . . . you don’t know how to take down any.”
“So teach me!”
He lowered his hand. “Even if I did, you wouldn’t be able to stop any more bodies than I can.”
My stomach curdled, and the tears fell harder. “B-but I can’t just leave Daniel . . . or Joseph . . . or that demon. Please, Oliver!”
“Please what? We have only one option: go back. We can get the hell out of here and—”
“And do what?” He surged beside me, his hands up. “Oh no. You mean go into the other passage?”
“Yes.”
“What if it leads nowhere?”
“I have to try.”
“Well, what if it leads to more Dead?”
I hesitated at that, and Oliver charged on. “See, El? We need to go back to the surface.”
“No,” I snapped. “Absolutely not. There must be some spell I can cast to protect us, right?”
His shoulders dropped an inch. He looked away. “There is an awareness spell. It would allow you to sense anything living—or Dead—nearby.”
I nodded curtly. More magic. More spells. It would give me strength, and that was something I needed. I set off back toward the branching tunnels and said, “Tell me what to do.”
Oliver followed just on my heels, the lantern swinging in his hand. “First you say Sentio omnia quae me circumdentur. It means ‘I feel all around me,’ and it will form a web. You sort of toss it out.”
He spread his arms, and the light sprayed out with the movement. “Do you understand?”
“Yes.” We were almost to the split. With each step, I drew my magic into my chest. It trickled in slowly, warm and safe. A balm to my fears, an embrace against the cold, and a light in the dark. And with each drop of soul that slid through my veins, my steps grew stronger, and the blue glow grew brighter.
“Sentio omnia quae me circumdentur.” The words trilled over my tongue, and as I threw my magic wide, casting it in all directions, I slowed to a stop at the fork in the tunnels. My magic spread and spread until finally sinking into place like a net sinking to the bottom of a pond.
“Well?” Oliver asked. “Do you sense anyone?”
“No.” Other than Oliver behind me, I sensed nothing—though I tried to sense more. Tried to push the web just a bit farther, to feel for Daniel and Joseph . . . but they were too far away, or . . .
No, they are alive, and I will find them.
With a final glance at Oliver, I set off down the other passage. How long we went or how far, I could not say. Though the winding limestone tunnel was the same as all the others, this journey wasn’t like the earlier one. I had my magic now, so I felt no irritation—only determination. And worry.
Always, always I had to battle thoughts of Daniel and Joseph getting closer to death with every second that passed—if they weren’t already . . . dead. . . .
And always I had to focus my web of awareness. More than once I found my thoughts wandering, for I could not help but wonder where we were beneath Paris. We had walked so far. What part of the city was above us now?
Eventually Oliver pulled me to a stop. “The path ends ahead.”
“What?” I choked. “What do you mean ‘ends’?”
“There’s a wall.” He motioned ahead, beyond the range of the lantern’s light. “A dead end.”
I scurried ahead, frustration exploding in my chest—only to grind quickly to a halt. There was a wall. But it was cracked, like the wall by the reservoir had been.
“I can squeeze through that.” I darted forward, but Oliver latched on to my arm.
“Don’t be ridiculous! It probably leads nowhere.”
I yanked free and surged toward the wall again. “Just let me check. Please.” Yet I only made it two steps when a black, putrid wave slammed into my senses.
I cried out, dropping to my knees. The stench of grave dirt invaded my nose.
“El, what is it?”
But I couldn’t answer. My stomach heaved, and bile boiled up my throat. I vomited into the black.
Acid splattered my hands.
“El, what’s wrong?”
“D-death,” I stuttered before gagging again. “Wrong.”
“Draw in the web.” His voice was barely a whisper, yet the urgency was clear. “Hurry, you’ll feel better.”
I did as he said, frantically reeling my awareness back to myself. Instantly the nausea and the smell vanished.
Clutching my arms to my stomach, I sank back until I hit the tunnel wall.
“Are you all right?’ Oliver murmured, his hand patting my arm until his fingers found mine. He squeezed. “El?”
“No, I am not all right.” My voice trembled, burning my acid-raw throat. “It was . . . it was so, so rotten. Death everywhere.”
“It’s the demon.” Oliver’s voice was barely a whisper.
“Can you sense it?”
“Not yet,” he admitted, squeezing my hand again. “But I’m sure I will soon. Your web of magic extends your range of awareness much farther than my own. Tell me: which way was it?”
I pointed behind me, toward the crack in the wall. “Just beyond there.”
Oliver’s eyebrows shot down. “Did you sense Joseph? Or Daniel?”
“I-I did not try.”
“What about the Dead?” he pressed. “Did you feel any corpses?”
“I did not try, Ollie. The black and the grave dirt, they overpowered everything.”
He took my other hand in his. “You have to try, El. If this demon is just through that hole, we need to be prepared. We need to know if it’s alone.”
I gulped and nodded. Tentatively, I sucked in my magic, but rather than fling out my awareness, I let it creep through the crack . . . then onward and up . . . until the rotten sense of wrong rolled over me. I screwed my eyes shut, forcing myself to keep fumbling, keep feeling. . . . Then I sensed two flames amid the black: Daniel and Joseph.
I yanked in the web, popping my eyes wide. “They’re there,” I breathed. “Daniel, Joseph. And I couldn’t feel any Dead.” My breath shot out, thick with relief. “Oh thank God, they’re there. Alive . . . alive.”
“And how far ahead is the demon?”
“No . . . no more than a hundred yards.”
“And you are sure you want to keep going?”
“Yes.”
“Then let’s go. Quietly.” His hand gripped my elbow, and without another word, he helped me cram myself into the slanted crack. I had to shove and wiggle until the rock tore my clothes and slashed my skin, but I was numb from the cold and the magic. I felt no pain. After several feet of this clambering, I finally wedged through—and into a pitch-black, yet open, tunnel.
Oliver eased out behind me—but without the lantern. “I couldn’t carry it and still fit through. I’m sorry.”
“Can you see?” I whispered.
“Well enough. I will go first.” Then he clasped my hand in his and pulled me into a careful tiptoe.
Our pace was barely above a crawl, and everything seemed loud. Each of our steps, our breaths, our fingertips brushing on the cave walls. And everywhere that my straining eyes landed seemed to move.
Every spot in my vision sent my pulse racing.
Suddenly Oliver’s hand clenched mine in warning. I froze, holding my breath trapped. Ever so slowly, Oliver pulled me to him, and then I felt his lips at my ear. “It’s ahead. Joseph—he’s shouting.
Can you hear?”
I shook my head once.
“We’ll keep going, but be prepared to fight. Have . . . have your commands for me ready.”
“What will I command you to do?”
He gave an almost inaudible laugh. “Just tell me to destroy it.” He drew away from me, and together we crept forward, the tunnel curving right . . . then left. After twenty measured steps, the faintest sounds finally began to slide into my ears. Forty steps and we rounded another bend—and now
Joseph’s bellows sounded clear. Seconds later we veered sharply left . . . and halted. Light, painful even in its orange dimness, shone ahead. I squinted, trying to see what was in the light, but we were still too far away.
Then a scream—a sickening shriek of pain—tore through the tunnel. But I couldn’t tell if it was
Daniel’s or Jo
seph’s. All I knew was that we were out of time.
I pushed Oliver to go faster. The screams masked our footsteps until the shrieking ceased. We instantly stopped . . . waiting, not breathing. A new sound broke out: a tinkling, happy sound. Someone laughing.
I glanced at Oliver, and at his nod I slunk forward. He slid along behind me, both of us hugging the walls and craning our necks.
But once I could see, I instantly wished for the darkness again. Because knowing what was in there —seeing the horror—was so, so much worse.
It was a cavern, tall, round, and as large as the ballroom, yet lit by torches that cast the scene in an orange, shadowy light.
And there, hunched over a stone table in the center of the cavern with long, jagged claws extended and her dainty mouth lapping up blood, was none other than Madame Marineaux.
And the blood was Joseph’s. It poured from the side of his head, from a gushing, jagged hole where his ear had once been.
Chapter Twenty-three
Madame Marineaux still wore her black ball gown, her coiled hair as perfect as ever. . . . Even her face—her smile—seemed as sweet as it always did. But her fingernails—they were as sharp and long as knives. And her mouth . . . fresh blood dribbled down her chin.
It took all of my self-control not to run straight to Joseph or completely the other way. She was a friend. I had trusted her, and yet . . . something twisted in my gut. Something that said, You knew this all along. You simply did not want to see it.
But I would deal with that guilt, that hurt, later. For now I had a demon to face.
I dragged my eyes away from the Madame, searching for some sign of Daniel. It wasn’t hard—he was loud despite being bound and gagged against the left-most wall. He rolled and writhed beside a narrow tunnel descending into darkness. Yet his struggles did no good; he was too tightly fettered.
Tossed on the dirt nearby was his bandolier, the crystal clamp shimmering beside it.
I flicked my gaze the other way, forcing myself not to look at Joseph’s shuddering chest or
Madame Marineaux’s bloody face. Forcing myself to evaluate the enormous cavern.
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