“We’re here.” Katar rushed forward as if to greet a long-lost lover.
“It’s…not what I expected.” The entrance to hell was a little underwhelming.
“It’s a portal.” Ward studied the structure with interest, his attention moving from Katar for the first time since the collar had been placed on him, the murderous rage seething beneath the surface banked for a moment.
As they drew closer, a hum of power emanated from the stones. “It feels…”
“Ancient.” Ward crouched to study the remains. “The gods of old created this place.”
Morgan blinked, and the foreign words etched into the pillars began to glow slightly. “‘Abandon hope all ye who enter here’—that’s real?”
“It’s a threat.” Ryder glared at the pillars, looking ready to smash them.
“Or the gods’ twisted sense of humor.” Draven muttered.
“It a warning.” Kincade disagreed with the others, and Morgan had to agree.
“A lot of the myths on earth originated from actual places and events.” Ascher ignored the others and stepped protectively between her and Katar. “You can change your mind. We don’t have to go through with this plan.”
“Do you have any other ideas?” Because she couldn’t think of a single one. If they wanted to save Atlas, this was their only choice. When he remained silent, she sighed. “I didn’t think so.”
The monstrous roar of a jungle cat on steroids rumbled from the passageway a few yards in front of them, the low sound skipping right over her instinct to fight and told her to run like fucking hell.
“Time to go.” Atlas strode past her toward the archway.
And vanished.
A steady line of soldiers began filing through when another roar reverberated in the air…but much closer. “What the hell is that?”
She glanced at Ascher, since he’d lived in this realm the longest. He grabbed her arm, shoving her in line and quickly following. “If I had to guess, I would say a saber-toothed tiger.”
“Huh?” Morgan’s brain shut down, and she dug in her heels, craning her neck to see around the line of people. “I want to see.”
“No, you don’t.” Before she could protest, she found herself flung over Ascher’s shoulder and hauled through the portal, his warm hand resting distractingly close to her ass. The last image she had was Kincade’s and Draven’s amused expressions, while Ryder narrowed his eyes at Ascher’s hand.
Then everything around her went black.
It took her eyes a few seconds to adjust to the darkness and her brain to realize they had been transported underground. Ascher pulled her down from his shoulder, dragging her down the front of his body. The man was built, the delicious heat of him soaking into her, making her want to linger and explore.
“Morgan.”
“Mmmmm.”
Ascher swallowed hard, but didn’t protest further.
When the other three guys entered the portal, they plowed into them, and knocked some sense into her. Feeling her face heat for her momentary lapse of judgement, Morgan turned away and studied their location.
A warren of passageways crisscrossed the cave system, each one looking as uninviting as the rest. The room was lit well enough for her to see, but she wasn’t able to trace the light source.
“Fey light?”
“No.” Ward touched the wall, rapping the stone with his knuckles. “But the magic used is so powerful, I can’t tell what is real and what isn’t.”
And he didn’t seem happy about it.
When she spun to take in the whole cavern, her good cheer vanished. “The portal is one-way.”
“The only way out is to pass through the tests. Only then will the portal re-open.” Katar stood on the opposite side of the room with what remained of his soldiers, while her men lingered protectively at her side.
“Which way?” Morgan turned toward Atlas, not trusting Katar to lead.
Atlas shook his head, not even bothering to investigate. “The last time I was here, the cave was a castle overlooking a bottomless ravine. They created this specifically for you. To reach the gates of Tartarus, you need to select which passage to take.”
What the hell did the magic read from her that said to stick her in a pile of dirt hundreds of feet below the surface?
“No.” Katar strutted toward them. “This is my mission. My decisions. She’s only the help.”
He perused the options, then selected the one with the most light and the biggest opening. The one that screamed danger. “That’s the wrong way.”
Katar didn’t even pause his stride. He lifted the pendant from around his neck and pressed the button. Ward grunted, a trail of smoke rising from the sizzling metal collar.
“Stop it.”
The bastard obeyed too easily. He dropped the pendant and grabbed a knife from the nearest soldier, quickly slashing the sharp edge across the back of her hand. Morgan hissed, clenching her fingers into a fist and clutching it to her chest when her skin was split open by an invisible blade. Blood instantly welled up from the cut. Kincade pulled the sword he’d saved from the arena, while Ryder grabbed her wrist, putting pressure on the cut.
“Uh-uh.” Katar shook his bloody knife at Kincade. “You cut me, she suffers the same.”
“Unless I fillet the mark from your skin.” Kincade spun the sword, careful to keep himself between her and the soldiers.
“We’re wasting time.” Katar tucked the knife into his belt. “We leave, or we’ll learn how many cuts she can withstand before screaming. Do you think the pain will get to her first, or will she be driven insane, wondering when and where the next cut will land?” He flashed her a creepy grin. “She has a high tolerance for pain. She refused to break in my laboratory. I’m looking forward to trying again.”
“Stop!” Morgan leapt forward, barely getting there in time to place herself between her men and Katar and his guards before they surged toward each other, bloodshed the only thing on their minds.
She glared at Katar, his superior attitude pissing her off even more. “You want to get my men out of the way, but may I remind you, if you kill them, your leverage is gone. I will sit here and wait for you to rot. Considering the condition of your arm, I don’t think it will take long.”
His smug smile wilted. “It seems we’re at an impasse. Yet the longer we wait, the more people die…including your mate. Every second, the infection anchors itself deeper inside him.” Katar pointed to the tunnel he selected. “So what will it be?”
Admitting defeat despite her misgivings, Morgan followed Katar into the passageway. The farther they walked down the tunnel, the more the light dimmed. They turned the corner, and even with her enhanced vision, she couldn’t see more than a foot in front of her. Chipped shale from the walls crackled under her feet—or so she thought until she saw the floor and walls literally move.
“Um, guys?”
Her voice seemed to be a trigger.
The guys closed ranks around her when clumps of the ceiling began to drop.
Something hit her shoulder with a heavy thump, and she reached up, only to come face to face with a furry spider the size of her fist. She jolted with instant panic to get it off her, flicking it away with shaky hands, her skin crawling, still able to feel its hairy feet tiptoeing over her.
Only then did she realize it wasn’t her imagination.
Chaos erupted as bugs rained down from the ceiling. Spiders with legs bigger than her fingers roamed above the rippling floor. Centipedes at least six inches long, cockroaches the size of her boots, and a churning ball of an assortment of smaller bugs began to crawl up their legs.
“What the fuck is up with these prehistoric bugs?” She slapped at her pants, watching the guys doing a weird sort of dance, trying to shake off the critters.
Loki leapt from her shoulder, hovered midair for a second as he flung out his wings, and then tackled a spider that was seconds away from smacking her in the face. They hit the floor with a solid th
ud. When the spider pried itself away from the gardog and stood, she realized the critter was almost bigger than the pup. Not deterred, the hound went wild, nipping and clawing until parts went flying.
“Son of a bitch.” The guard next to her swore, slapping at a wood grub three inches long and two inches round. Thick juices with the consistency and color of pistachio pudding splattered everywhere as he crushed the bug, leaving behind a swath of green slime. More and more people began to swear when they were bitten.
Then she saw one of the guards yank out his knife, rip open his shirt, and begin to carve up his stomach, uncaring how deep he cut, shrieking that the bugs were burrowing under his skin, eating him from the inside out. His guts spilled out, and he began to sort through his intestines, as if searching for a bug that had somehow gotten inside him. “Get it out!” he shrieked. “Gotta get it out.”
The more bugs they killed, the more frantic the soldiers became, as if the bugs contained a hallucinogenic drug, making them see things that weren’t there.
Another soldier was on the ground, his body covered in large welts, bugs swarming all over him. He lifted a large rock and repeatedly smashed his legs with it, trying to stop the bugs from burrowing up to his crotch. Bones cracked, but he continued to beat away the bugs, oblivious to the fact that his legs were so busted he’d never walk again.
“What the fuck is happening?” Ryder and Ascher were helping the soldiers, trying to stop them from mutilating themselves, while battling their own infestations. Atlas was relatively uncovered, the infection possibly a repellent. He swiped the bugs off her back and plucked them out of her hair before flicking them across the cave.
“The tunnels amplify our greatest fear.” Atlas sounded grim as he hacked and slashed as fast as the bugs fell, and yet the beasties showed no sign of stopping their attack.
Draven didn’t freak out like the rest. He yanked out his knife, flicking the bugs away from him, leaving behind little nicks and cuts as he went, the blade gouging deeper each time. She caught his arm, but he was surprisingly strong.
“Stop!” But it was like he didn’t hear her, the number of his cuts increasing. She watched in horror as the tip of his blade pierced his flesh, so she did the only thing she could…she head-butted him, knocking him off his feet, the blade clattering to the stone.
The loss of a weapon didn’t alleviate the need to carve himself up.
He began to claw at his arms, leaving deep grooves in his flesh. Kincade came to her rescue, helping her pin Draven’s elbows to his side. When he continued to grapple with her, Morgan crawled onto his lap. She grabbed his chin, making him meet her eyes. “Can you see me?”
He gave a jerky nod, his struggles stopping immediately.
“Do you have your shit together?” Breathing heavily, he nodded, and Kincade tapped her arm.
“I got him. Help the others.”
Trusting him, Morgan got to her feet, and surveyed the chaos. The soldiers seemed to be taking the brunt of the attacks, lost in their own crazy, and she realized they wouldn’t stop until they killed themselves, many of them already too far gone to save.
“Everyone get out.” She grabbed the captain of the guard and slapped him as hard as she could. His head snapped to the side, the blow nearly knocking him off his feet. “Get your men out of here. Those you can save. Go back and wait for us.”
“No.” Katar scratched at his face. “If they leave, they will lose their chance at the cure.”
“What about you?” The captain gave her a suspicious stare.
“One way or another, we’re going to stop the infection.” Morgan lifted her chin, daring him to disagree.
With another searching look, he nodded. “Don’t let us down.”
“I’ll pay you a fortune,” Katar screeched, chasing after the departing soldiers. “When I gain power, you can name your price.”
To her surprise, five soldiers, half of the group, opted to remain for the promise of glory and gold.
“Fools.” Morgan turned away, searching for another exit when she spotted a surge of bugs spilling into the room. She snatched up Loki and waded through the bugs to investigate, ignoring the way the little hound continued to snap and crunch on the falling bugs.
A hole in the wall appeared to be a tunnel…if you could call the narrow crack a tunnel. The space was tall enough for them to wedge themselves inside and crawl, but not a lot of room for much else.
If they ran into trouble, they would be very vulnerable.
Great.
“Guys, it looks like we’re going spelunking.”
Chapter Twenty-two
Morgan knelt and began to scoop the bugs out of the way, cringing at the sound of crunching as she wedged her way into the narrow tunnel. Not surprising, Katar didn’t insist on going first this time. Vines and roots filled the low passageway, forcing her to wiggle through the tiny opening.
Ryder caught her hips, easily pulling her free and setting her on her feet. “I’ll make a bigger opening for you to follow.”
He flexed his fingers, and his nails slowly stretched and hardened to sharp points. He began hacking away at the plants until he had enough room to wedge his broad shoulders through. By the time Morgan followed, her view was of his flexing ass.
The befuddling sight distracted her from the crushing claustrophobia of being in such a confined space. Knowing she couldn’t stretch out, couldn’t run, couldn’t do anything but inch forward constricted her chest until breathing became difficult. The tight space quickly became sweltering, intensifying the impression that there wasn’t enough air.
The vines became thorny, scratching and clawing at every inch of her, as if hungry for her blood. A creeping vine looped around her ankle, and she nearly fell flat on her face as it tightened when she tried to edge forward. She struggled to kick backwards and yank her leg free, but only ended up getting more tangled.
Her mind flashed back to being held immobile and shackled on the sacrificial altar as her blood slowly drained out of her. Her breathing sped up, her heart thudding erratically against her ribs as she struggled to free herself.
“Hold still.” Kincade grabbed her foot, his grip warm and reassuring, and she nearly kicked him in the face until she recognized his voice. Ever so slowly, he unknotted the tangle of vines while she struggled to get her breathing under control.
He patted her calf, the comforting gesture loosening the tight band around her chest that threatened to crush her.
“Thank you.”
“Anytime.”
When Morgan inched forward, the plants and roots around them thickened to the point where she could no longer see stone. Ryder’s destruction was the only sign of his passage, his feet barely visible. Loki, however, was having just as much difficulty, his feet becoming tangled and mired in the overgrowth until every step was a struggle.
She plucked him up, then sighed and shoved him down her shirt. “Sorry pup.” He wiggled around for a second, then settled in for the ride.
Without the hound as a distraction, the sense of her surroundings vanished as vertigo struck, leaving her feeling disconnected and her senses spinning. Morgan tried to avoid thinking about her greatest fear, not wanting it to manifest, but the more she tried to avoid the subject, the more it loomed in her mind.
While being strapped down hadn’t been fun, her worst fear hadn’t been dying…it was the thought of losing the men who were beginning to mean everything to her.
Needing to touch something solid before she lost her mind, she wiggled her hand between the roots, ignoring the way the bark scraped at her flesh. To her surprise, her hand burst through and touched air.
Not stone.
“Ryder!” With her free hand, Morgan lunged forward and grabbed his pant leg just as the vines around them began snapping. His body began to tip down, dragging her with him when she refused to release her hold.
Ryder managed to snag a couple of hanging vines as they tore free of the tunnel, the momentum sending them swingin
g through the air like an uncoordinated Tarzan. Only her weak grip on his pants kept her from plunging below. When the vines creaked ominously, she grabbed for the nearest one as it swung past, and released Ryder.
She flew through the air for a few seconds, free-falling, when the comforting touch of rope smacked her palm. She slid down a few feet before she could stop her momentum. She twisted the vine around her leg to help support her weight, then glanced up. Ryder was staring down at her, his expression hard.
“Can you climb?”
The hairs on the back of her neck rose, and Morgan peered down. A clear black glass surface reflected their images back at them, a small ripple disturbing the surface.
Water.
Only water didn’t ripple unless there was a current…or something moved under the surface.
When she glanced up, she saw the ceiling was covered with vines. The jagged hole where they exited was hardly discernable. Roots and vines began to sway. As more and more weight settled on the vegetation, the more the vines stretched to hold them.
“Stop!”
Unfortunately, the vegetation muffled her voice. The vines stretched ominously. When the strain proved too much, the vegetation snapped and bodies began to fall.
And her worst nightmare came to life.
Two soldiers hit the water with a heavy splash, snapping her out of her paralysis, and her resolve to save her men firmed.
No way in hell would anything happen to them on her watch.
She would not lose them to her irrational fear.
Not when she could stop it.
Morgan swung her legs, using her momentum to bring her closer, and Ryder followed her lead. She was on the backward swing when she saw Draven drop next, his arms flailing for purchase. He grabbed a vine, but the damned thing pulled free, sending him plunging down.
Ryder swung forward, grabbed one of his arms, using his momentum to swing Draven through the air…then released him! She watched in horror as Draven went flying, his body arrowing through the air to snag another vine.
As she swung away from them, she saw Kincade fall next. She grabbed another vine to alter her course, and they collided with a thump. Kincade grabbed for one of the vines, and they dangled together for a few seconds before she released her grip, and they spun away from each other.
Heart of the Assassins (An Academy of Assassins Novel Book 2) Page 22
