A World Apart (Shades Below, #1)

by Oliva, L. J. K.

  Durbin took two of the hard hats. "I said we are, didn't I?" He handed one to Lena. "If you're that worried, I guess you'll just have to make sure nothing happens."

  The foreman's face scrunched up, but he handed MacMillian the last hat. His gaze settled on the cane. He shook his head and muttered something under his breath, then spun on his heel and stalked off.

  Durbin nodded at the cane. "You sure you don't want to—"

  "I'm going down." The tone of MacMillian's voice left no room for discussion.

  Durbin clapped the hard hat on his head. "Suit yourself. I'll go first. Then Lena. Then you." He turned and picked his way towards the narrow metal ladder before MacMillian could argue.

  Lena hesitated. She searched MacMillian's face. "I hope you're not just doing this to prove a point."

  His jaw ticked. "Why are we still talking about it?"

  She sighed and shook her head. "Whatever. Just... be careful."

  She didn't wait to see the inevitable scowl cross his face, instead scrambled around the construction equipment to where Durbin was waiting. His eyebrows went up. "Everything okay?"

  Lena forced a smile. "Yeah." She met his eyes, and smiling came a little easier. "Yeah, everything's fine."

  "Good." He looked like he wanted to say something else, but then MacMillian spoke behind her.

  "Come on. Let's get this over with."

  Lena turned around. This time, there was no mistaking the naked disapproval on his face. He nodded stiffly towards the ladder. "Durbin. I believe you wanted to go first."

  Durbin looked from one of them to the other, then inclined his head. "Of course." He braced his hands against the rails and started down.

  Lena watched until his head disappeared beneath the rim of the shaft. She was about to follow his lead when MacMillian's voice stopped her. "Careful."

  She blinked up at him. "Thanks. You, too."

  He shook his head. "That's not what I meant." He glanced at the ladder. "I'm talking about Durbin. He's not how you think he is."

  She recoiled. "And just how do I think he is?"

  "Please." MacMillian's jaw flexed. "I'm not blind. You like him."

  "And I shouldn't?"

  "No." He said it so quietly she had to strain to hear him. "You shouldn't."

  Lena shook her head. "We're not doing this. Especially not right now. We're here for a reason, in case you forgot." She headed for the ladder and grasped the handrails. After a final glance at MacMillian's face, she started down.

  The air cooled the further she descended, and the metal ladder was freezing. She fought back a shiver, and quickened her pace.

  A narrow black object sailed past her head and clattered to the concrete below. Durbin's surprised shout echoed up the shaft. Lena froze, and looked down. MacMillian's cane. She glared back up at him.

  He peered over the edge, a genuinely sheepish expression on his face. "Sorry. Couldn't think of a better way to get it down."

  Lena shook her head and resumed her pace.

  She quickly made it to the bottom. Strong hands closed around her waist, and lifted her to the ground. She looked up at Durbin. Her belly flipped again. "Thanks."

  A quick grin flashed across his face. "No problem." He paused. His gaze skimmed over her hard hat. "May I...?"

  Lena nodded, and he notched a finger under her chin and tilted her head back. Her mouth went dry. She swallowed hard.

  "How does that feel?" His voice sounded deeper. "Is the inside secure enough?"

  Her belly flipped. "No. Yes. It feels good." She swallowed again. "The hat feels good."

  His lips twitched.

  Suddenly, she couldn't breathe. She didn't move while he stooped and picked up MacMillian's cane. Without a word, he pressed it into her palm.

  They didn't speak while they waited. The instant MacMillian's feet touched concrete, Lena passed him the cane. It was as though Durbin's touch had electrified it, and while it wasn't an entirely unpleasant sensation, it was still a relief to hand it off.

  Seemingly unaware, MacMillian strode towards the open tunnel. The undulating sound of his footsteps and cane reverberated off the walls. "At least we know there's only one way in." He paused at the entrance, turned back to where she and Durbin were still standing. "You coming?"

  Lena nodded and headed after him. Electricity crackled over her skin as she neared the tunnel. She glanced back. Durbin was watching her. She shrugged off the lingering prickle in her nerve endings and climbed up behind MacMillian.

  He was watching her, too. "Are you all right?"

  She stiffened. "Why wouldn't I be?"

  He searched her face, then looked away. "No reason."

  Durbin joined them, and they started off as a group. Lena tugged her trench coat tighter. The concrete-lined tunnel was even cooler than the extraction pit. Lights dotted the ceiling, strung along naked cables. Pipes of various widths lined the walls, and a thin line of muddy water ran down the center of the floor.

  They walked in silence for a few minutes, the only sounds the wet slap of their feet and the faint drone of traffic overhead. Finally, Durbin cleared his throat. "So, are you guys going to tell me what we're really looking for?"

  MacMillian didn't answer. Lena shifted her backpack. What was she supposed to say? It wasn't like he would believe the truth. She settled on a shrug. "We'll know when we see it."

  She could feel his dissatisfaction radiating behind her, but didn't turn.

  They walked for several more minutes. Lena sneaked a peek at MacMillian. If his leg was bothering him, he didn't show it. She sighed and squinted down the tunnel. "There has to be a break in here somewhere."

  Paper rustled, and she looked back. Durbin was studying what looked like a blueprint. MacMillian narrowed his eyes. "Where did you—"

  "Got it from the foreman." Durbin glanced up. "Lena's not the only one with social skills."

  MacMillian glowered, but didn't say anything.

  Durbin returned his attention to the paper. "Right now, we're walking down the northbound tunnel. If we keep going, we'll hit the proposed Chinatown station."

  MacMillian turned to Lena. "Chinatown. Underground." His eyes glittered. "And I'll bet you anything they dug this tunnel right underneath the existing transit lines."

  Lena's eyes widened. "That would explain the sound Tree heard."

  Durbin held up his hands. "Okay, that's it. What the hell are you two talking about? What's going on under Chinatown? And what's this about a tree hearing things?"

  MacMillian was already walking again. Lena picked up her pace so she was walking alongside him. Durbin's frustrated growl echoed down the tunnel, then his footsteps started up again too. "You do remember I'm a police officer, right? I could haul the both of you in for—"

  Lena stopped short. She ignored Durbin's surprised grunt and grabbed MacMillian's arm. "There. Up ahead. Do you see that?"

  A door. She couldn't help the giggle that erupted up her throat. She was fifty feet under the city—maybe more—looking for god knew what with two undeniably attractive men, and there was a door. "That has to be it." She looked up at MacMillian. "Right?"

  The paper rustled again. She turned to find Durbin studying the blueprint, a deep crease in his forehead. "But that doesn't make any sense. According to this, that's just an offshoot for a dewatering well." He looked up. "There's not supposed to be a door there."

  MacMillian's lips thinned. "Then that's it."

  Lena approached the door and swung the backpack down from her shoulder. She reached out and flattened her hand against it. The metal felt inexplicably warm, and seemed to vibrate against her palm. She pulled her hand back.

  MacMillian came up behind her. "What is it?"

  "I don't know." She shook her head. "I can't get a read on it." Just like at Jimmy's. It was becoming too common to dismiss as mere coincidence.

  "Step back."

  She looked behind her to find Durbin pulling a handgun from a shoulder holster under his jacket. He c
licked off the safety. Before she could stop him, he planted his back leg and kicked the door. It shuddered, but held. A grating metallic rattle echoed down the length of the tunnel.

  Before she had the chance to shield, a superheated wave of energy knocked her back on her feet. A harsh buzzing invaded her skull. The volume and pitch ratcheted steadily higher, like the whine of a thousand furious bees.

  Lena clutched her forehead in her hands. The next thing she knew she was on the ground, MacMillian and Durbin on their knees beside her. They were both talking. She could see their lips moving, but couldn't hear them.

  It took her a moment to realize she was screaming.

  The pressure inside her head was unbearable. Her vision flashed between darkness and blinding light, as if each was fighting for control. Everything started to spin. Her stomach rolled.

  She doubled over and threw up on the wet concrete. Then the darkness won.

  ←↑↓→

  MacMillian was moving before he had time to think.

  He scooped up Lena's limp body and retreated down the tunnel at as close to a run as he could manage. Dimly, he realized he'd dropped his cane outside the door. When was the last time he'd walked without a cane? He couldn't remember. Didn't care.

  Lena's body flopped against his chest. Was she breathing? He couldn't check. Holy fuck, what if she wasn't breathing? He leaned in until her lips dusted his cheek, let out a relieved breath at the soft tickle of air against his skin.

  Durbin's footsteps were heavy and even beside him. "Is she all right? What the fuck was that?"

  MacMillian didn't have the slightest idea, but he already knew who he was holding responsible. "You fucking idiot! What the hell were you thinking?"

  "What do you mean, what was I thinking? I don't even know what happened!"

  Of course he didn't, but he'd kicked the door, and something had attacked her. Cause, meet Effect. It was the only explanation that made sense. "Do you always go busting into places without checking them first? Did it occur to you something might have been in there?"

  Durbin cursed. MacMillian ignored him. Up ahead, daylight bathed the tunnel walls. They were almost out. He'd get Lena to his car and take her to The Wayfare. Cyrus would know what to do. Cyrus had to know what to do.

  His stump was on fire by the time they made it back into the extraction pit. MacMillian didn't stop. He limped to the ladder.

  A heavy hand came down on his shoulder. He whirled. "What the fuck are you doing?"

  Durbin's face was tight. "Give her to me."

  MacMillian started to protest.

  Durbin shook his head. "You can't carry her up that thing, and you know it. You want to help her? Get yourself up and call an ambulance."

  "She doesn't need an ambulance." MacMillian had to force the words out.

  Durbin jerked his head in a nod. "Fine. Honestly, I don't know what the hell she needs. You seem like you know what's going on. But if you care about her at all, you'll stop wasting fucking time arguing about this."

  Stop wasting time. The words landed like a swift kick to the gut. MacMillian nodded, forced his muscles to unbunch and gently passed Lena's still form to Durbin. The sudden loss of heat made his stomach burn.

  The look on Durbin's face as he took her made it burn even more.

  He grasped the ladder rails with both hands, gave up trying to maneuver his prosthetic and extended it behind him. The climb went surprisingly quick. He looked down once. Durbin was taking it slower, Lena slung over his shoulder in a fireman-hold.

  He didn't look down again.

  The Fury wasn't far. MacMillian pulled up to the curb. Durbin was waiting outside the double gates, Lena cradled in his arms like a child. He yanked open the back door and slid into the rear bench seat without releasing her.

  MacMillian pealed a partial U-turn onto the main street, ignoring the blaring horns and Durbin's muttered curse. Up ahead, the stoplight turned yellow. He flipped on his emergency flashers and sailed through it just as it went red.

  "Jesus!" Durbin braced a leg against the back of the driver's seat. "Could you at least try not to get us killed?"

  MacMillian met his eyes in the rearview mirror. "How's she doing?"

  Durbin looked down. His expression softened. "Lena? You there?" He brushed a knuckle against her cheek. MacMillian tried to ignore it.

  Lena groaned and shifted. "Durbin?"

  MacMillian whipped his head around. "Lena? What happened back there?"

  Lena forced out a single word. "Jumped..." Her face twisted, and she hissed. Whatever lucidity she'd managed to grasp slipped away. She went limp again.

  Durbin shook his head and looked up, his eyes troubled. "I don't get it. Jumped? You saw it yourself, we were the only ones in that tunnel."

  MacMillian already had his cell out. He scrolled through the list of dialed numbers, one eye on the road. Finally, he came to the number for The Wayfare. He hit the call-back button and put the phone on speaker.

  Cyrus answered on the first ring. "Wayfare Hotel."

  MacMillian balanced the cell on the dash and set his hand back to the driving controls. "Cyrus? It's MacMillian."

  "Oh. Hey." Cyrus's voice sharpened. "Wait, why are you calling? Is Lena all right?"

  "Yeah." MacMillian winced. "I mean, I think so. We were checking something out, and she got..." he used her word, "jumped."

  "Fuck." He could practically here Cyrus pacing. "How many? Did she say?"

  "No." MacMillian took a blind guess. "But it looked pretty intense."

  "Damn it." Silence, then, "You're on your way back now?"

  "Yeah."

  "Okay." Cyrus blew out a breath. "Just park in our driveway. I'll have everything ready when you get here."

  ←↑↓→

  The garage was open when they pulled into the driveway, a black and chrome motorcycle parked inside.

  MacMillian eased up behind it, and glanced in the rearview mirror again. Durbin sat frozen, eyes locked on the looming facade of The Wayfare. "Jesus Christ. Why do I feel like I'm about to walk into an episode of American Horror Story?"

  You have no idea. MacMillian allowed himself a humorless chuckle. Out loud, he said only, "Come on. Let's get her inside."

  He shunted open the driver's side door and reached for his cane on reflex, scowled at the empty seat next to him. The door to the house opened before he could dwell on it. He pushed himself out of the car.

  Cyrus watched, eyes narrow, as Durbin climbed out of the back seat with Lena. He aimed an accusatory glare at MacMillian, but all he said was, "Follow me. We're ready for you in the parlor."

  Before he could ask who "we" referred to, Cyrus turned sharply and retreated back into the house.

  He led them through a complicated maze of passages MacMillian didn't remember passing through the last time. By the time they reached the parlor, his socket was slick with sweat. Even Durbin was huffing slightly. Cyrus pushed open the door. They followed him inside.

  It was the same parlor as before, but everything looked different. Blazing candles littered every available surface, the only sources of light. The furniture had all been pushed to the walls, creating a wide open space in the middle of the floor. A white sheet covered the Persian rug.

  A woman knelt in the center of it. Candlelight glinted off the purple streaks in her dark hair. She looked up when they entered, and her gaze zeroed in on Lena. She patted the sheet. "Lay her here."

  MacMillian stared at her while Durbin obediently laid Lena down. Now he remembered where he'd seen her before. It was the bookkeeper from Cross Your Teas, the woman who had distracted him while Lena brewed up her hallucinogenic concoction. What was her name?

  Cyrus answered the question before he could ask it. "This is Georgia. I called her after I hung up with you. She has experience dealing with situations like this."

  Durbin straightened, and retreated back to where they were standing. "And just what sort of situation is this, exactly? Would someone please explain to me wha
t the fuck is going on?" He looked down at Lena, and even in the half-darkness, MacMillian could see his face turn gray. "Will she be all right?"

  "She'll be fine, if you'll all quit yammering and let me work." Georgia stood and crossed over to the couch. For the first time, MacMillian noticed several small items spread over the cushions.

  After a moment's consideration, she made her selection, talking to herself as she went. "Better do a nine-crystal grid. Tourmaline, onyx... fuck, maybe some jet, too. Now, where the hell did I put that smudge stick?"

  Cyrus's brow knitted. "That bad?"

  Georgia glanced at them on her way back to Lena. "It's a doozy, all right. Can't remember the last time I saw this many in one host."

  Durbin's eyes bugged. "What did you say?"

  Georgia looked at him for the first time. "Ghosts, genius. She's been inhabited by ghosts." Ignoring his stunned expression, she knelt beside Lena again and started placing small, dark stones in a pattern around her body. "A whole mess of 'em, by the looks of it."

  Durbin turned to MacMillian, his jaw slack. "Tell me she's kidding."

  MacMillian shrugged.

  Durbin raked a hand through his hair. "No, seriously, I mean it. Tell me she's kidding. Tell me the three of you aren't actually telling me that woman has been possessed by ghosts." He jabbed a finger at Lena.

  MacMillian blew out a breath. "Jesus, Mark, will you shut the hell up?"

  Georgia barked out a humorless laugh. "Thank you." She grasped at the floor next to her and scowled. "Cyrus, be a gem. Pass me that red candle and my banishing oil."

  MacMillian rocked back on his heels and watched while she opened the little bottle of oil Cyrus handed her. The sharp aroma of cinnamon filled the room. Georgia shook a few drops onto her finger and dabbed it behind Lena's ears, on the insides of her wrists, between her breasts. MacMillian raised an eyebrow.

  Oblivious to him, she picked up a fat bundle of what looked like dried grass, tightly bound with string. She waved one end over the flame of the red candle. Sparks crackled around the tip, and a plume of acrid smoke puffed into the air.

  Both MacMillian and Durbin recoiled at the same time. Durbin's nose wrinkled. "What the hell is that?"

  Georgia didn't look up. "Sage. For purification."