A World Apart (Shades Below, #1)

by Oliva, L. J. K.

  Used to. MacMillian faced forward again. "I'm sorry."

  "It was a long time ago." Cyrus's voice was rough. He cleared his throat again. "Anyway, after she… you know… Lena used to have these nightmares. She's…" He trailed off.

  MacMillian didn't look at him. "We'll get her."

  "Yeah." Cyrus sounded harsh. "I'm just not sure what we'll find when we do."

  They drove past the extraction site without stopping. Cyrus took a sharp left at the corner, and pulled into the restaurant parking lot next door. The four of them climbed out. Emil turned to MacMillian. "You've been here before, right? How do we get past the construction workers?"

  Puzzle cracked his knuckles. "Leave that to me."

  MacMillian started to speak. A voice behind them beat him to it.

  "I've already made arrangements."

  MacMillian turned to find Durbin striding towards them. Puzzle stepped forward, his body coiled to attack. "Who the fuck is he?"

  Cyrus groaned. "Jesus. This is who you called?"

  MacMillian ignored them both. He grabbed Durbin's arm and hauled him to the side. "What the hell are you doing here?"

  Durbin shook him off. "Hey, you called me, remember? If you think I'm going to just sit on my ass while Lena's in trouble-"

  "Who said Lena's in trouble?"

  "Please." Durbin gave him a withering look. "You don't just ask to trace someone's cell unless they're in trouble. What's going on?"

  Cyrus, Emil, and Puzzle shifted behind them, their collective impatience palpable. MacMillian ground his teeth. "Damn it, Durbin. You're in over your head."

  "Fuck you. Let's get moving. We're wasting time."

  MacMillian sighed. He couldn't argue with that.

  Durbin led the way to the extraction site. The chain link gate was already open. A grizzled man in a neon vest and hard hat stepped forward as they walked through. Durbin waved his badge at him. "They're with me."

  They reached the edge of the shaft, and Cyrus started down first. Emil was right behind him. MacMillian hung back. He reached into his jacket pocket. His fingers dusted the bottle of Van Van oil still inside. He clenched his jaw, turned and pulled it out. "Time to see if you really work," he muttered.

  "What did you say?"

  MacMillian glanced back over his shoulder. Durbin was looking at him, forehead drawn. Puzzle was rapidly disappearing down the ladder.

  MacMillian waved his cane. "Nothing. Go ahead. I'll be right behind you."

  Durbin gave a short nod and swung onto the ladder. MacMillian turned back to the Van Van oil. He unscrewed the lid. A faint citrusy aroma wafted out. He plugged the opening with one finger and upturned the bottle.

  He turned it right-side up again and replaced the cap. A small sheen of fragrant oil coated the pad of his finger. He gritted his teeth. "This is ridiculous."

  He hastily dabbed it onto his forehead and slipped the bottle back in his pocket.

  His four companions were clustered around the outside of the tunnel when he finally reached the bottom of the shaft. Emil turned to Puzzle and Cyrus. "Are you both warded?"

  Durbin looked at MacMillian. "What the hell is he talking about?"

  Cyrus pulled a small chunk of black stone out of his pocket and lifted a silver saints medal from under his shirt. Puzzle reached under his collar and pulled out a handful of clinking medallions. MacMillian recognized a few of them: a cross, a hamsa, an ornate milagro. Several others he'd never seen before.

  Durbin groaned. "Are they serious?"

  Emil turned to him. "Do you have protection?"

  "Sure do." Durbin flipped up his jacket to reveal the M9 in his shoulder holster. "You people can keep your superstitious mumbo-jumbo. I have all the protection I need."

  Emil shook his head, but didn't press the matter. Instead he shifted his attention to MacMillian. "What about you?"

  MacMillian shook his head. "Thanks. I'm good."

  "Seriously." Emil started to remove a medal from around his neck. "Take this. Take something. You can't go in there without-"

  Puzzle sniffed. "Does anybody else smell lemons?"

  MacMillian coughed. Emil gave him a hard look. MacMillian kept his eyes forward. "Let's just get this over with."

  Cyrus blew out a breath and slipped the stone back into his pocket. "Guess this is your show now. Lead the way."

  MacMillian caught Durbin's eye. Face hard, the other man nodded. MacMillian gripped his cane tighter and started into the tunnel. "Come on."

  The door seemed farther than he remembered. MacMillian stood to the side and nodded to Durbin. "Want to do the honors?"

  "Hell yes." Durbin planted his back leg and kicked. The door groaned, but held firm. Durbin braced for another kick.

  Cyrus came up beside MacMillian. "Hey," he murmured. When MacMillian looked at him, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the black stone.

  MacMillian started to shake his head. "Really, I don't-"

  "Just take it, would you? I have another one. Besides, Lena would never forgive me if I let something happen to you."

  MacMillian hesitated, then took the stone and slipped it into his pocket next to the Van Van oil. "Thanks."

  Cyrus jerked his head in a nod and stepped away just as Durbin finally kicked the door in.

  A nauseating aroma immediately flooded the tunnel. Durbin swore, bent over and planted his hands on his knees. Puzzle snarled something in a language MacMillian didn't recognize, and Emil fell back several steps, one hand over his mouth.

  Cyrus covered his nose. "What is that?"

  No one answered. After a few minutes, Durbin straightened. He reached under his jacket and pulled out the M9, traded glances with MacMillian. MacMillian nodded. Durbin raised the gun and released the safety. He started forward, MacMillian right behind him.

  Inside was a scene straight out of a horror movie.

  The room was small, with no ventilation to speak of. Piled against the walls were at least twenty bodies, all in various stages of decay. The stench was overwhelming. MacMillian blinked hard as tears sprang to his eyes.

  Durbin grimaced, then a professional mask dropped over his face. He approached one of the bodies and peered closer. "This one looks like it was involved in some sort of ritual."

  Puzzle looked up from the body he'd been examining. "So does this one."

  Durbin straightened and blew out a breath. "Fucking hell, MacMillian, what did you get me into?"

  MacMillian shot him a pointed look. "You really want to know?"

  Durbin shook his head. "No. No, I don't. Let's keep moving. I want to find Lena and get the fuck out of here."

  No one objected.

  At the far end of the room was what appeared to be the entrance to another tunnel. MacMillian nodded towards it. "Was that in the blueprints?"

  "No." Durbin's face was set in stone. "It wasn't."

  "Then that's where we're going." MacMillian started forward. "Everyone watch where you step."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  She felt like she'd been struck by lightning.

  Lena drifted somewhere between consciousness and shadow. Sometime during Jimmy's treatments, Zintchio had dragged the other table out of the corner. It now sat just a few feet from her, in all its retch-inducing glory. The stench from the corpse coated her nasal passages, the inside of her mouth, lodged deep in her throat.

  Zintchio flitted back and forth between the table and a rolling cart loaded with supplies, muttering the entire time. "Can you believe it, Mehil? We're finally doing it. This is the moment we've been preparing for."

  He turned and retrieved something from the cart. When he turned back, he was holding what looked like a massive pair of bolt cutters. He leaned over the corpse.

  "Forgive me, Mehil. This is the only way."

  Crack.

  Crack.

  Crack.

  Lena shut her eyes as tightly as she could. She didn't need to see to know what that noise was.

  Ribs.

 
The sickening sound seemed to go on forever. At last, it stopped. She looked back in time to see Zintchio set the cutters aside. Sweat dotted his forehead. Thick, viscous fluid coated his hands. He came around to stand between the two tables, and looked down at her. "It is time."

  Lena started to shake her head. "Wait. You can't-"

  Zintchio started to chant. It was an incantation she'd never heard before, words she suspected no human was ever meant to know.

  Pain hit again, more intense than any time before. Lena writhed against the table, no longer in control of her muscles. Her hands clenched and unclenched. Her head pounded. Her stomach cramped.

  And deep inside her, something finally broke.

  Zintchio's voice dimmed, drowned out by a strange rushing in her ears. Lena closed her eyes and sank into herself. The pain receded under a warm, dark blanket. Achingly grateful, she let it fold around her. Awareness faded. She drifted, blissfully numb.

  We've been waiting for you.

  She was too relieved to be afraid. The pain was gone, Zintchio was gone, even that abhorrent smell was gone. All she wanted was to stay here, isolated, safe.

  No, not quite safe. A faint burning sensation razed the outer corners of her consciousness. Jimmy. Lena frowned.

  Now something was reaching for her. She'd been running from it long enough to recognize what it was. A shadow. But unlike the shadows from her dreams, this one didn't want to hurt her. It wanted to help her.

  You know what you have to do.

  Lena let out a breath, at the same time released her last tattered shreds of resistance. She'd been resisting for so long, she almost didn't know how to let go. The shadow didn't hesitate. It surged forward, poured itself into her like water into a cup.

  Lena gasped. She felt whole now, in a way she never had before. She was free. She was powerful.

  It was time take back control.

  ←↑↓→

  Just how long was that tunnel? MacMillian squinted into the seemingly endless darkness ahead. "So, what are we looking for, exactly?"

  Emil's voice filtered up from the back. "According to the tablet, the spirit familiar is bound by a physical spell. The original recipe calls for specially-prepared goat-skin, but we're probably looking for some kind of paper scroll."

  Durbin groaned. "Spells? Jesus..."

  MacMillian ignored him. "Did the tablet say how we break the spell?"

  "The same way you break any spell." Emil paused to catch his breath. "You have to unmake the scroll."

  MacMillian nodded. "Bonfire. Got it."

  They continued onward. Just up ahead, the darkness dampened. MacMillian could only just make out a larger room. He quickened his pace. "I think there's something up here."

  Sure enough, the tunnel opened up into what looked like a junction. Filtered light forced its way through a grate in the ceiling. Water trickled along the floor. More tunnel entrances yawned in front of them.

  MacMillian stopped in his tracks. Durbin came up beside him. "How do we know which one to take?"

  MacMillian opened his mouth. Before he could speak, a bone-chilling scream echoed from one of the openings.

  Emil sucked in a breath. "Was that who I think it was?"

  Cyrus swore. "Lena."

  "She must be close." MacMillian started down the new tunnel at an awkward jog-hop. "Come on!"

  The tunnel quickly plunged back into darkness. Their footsteps echoed eerily as they headed down what felt like a continuous arc. They rounded a final turn, and found themselves in an enormous chamber.

  Durbin looked around. "What the hell is this place?"

  "Looks like a natural cave." Emil stepped forward cautiously. "The bedrock under San Francisco is peppered with them."

  Durbin let out a low whistle. "I'll be damned."

  The sound echoed off the walls, the ceiling, back down the tunnel. MacMillian stiffened. "Does anyone else feel that?"

  Durbin hovered over his shoulder. "Feel wha-"

  A sudden gust of what felt like a hundred bats blew past MacMillian's head. Puzzle shouted a warning. Cyrus and Emil dove to the side. MacMillian threw his arm up over his face, but whatever it was kept moving past him.

  Durbin let out a yell. MacMillian whirled in time to see him drop to the floor. The M9 clattered to the stone beside him. Eyes wild, he doubled over and threw up. Then he collapsed.

  MacMillian swore. "What the-"

  "It's the familiars!" Emil ripped one of the talismans from around his neck and held it upward. Beside him, Puzzle was doing the same thing. Emil jabbed a finger at a small passageway carved into the far side of the cave. "Hurry! We'll hold them here as long as we can. Find the spells!"

  Cyrus pulled something from his pocket. He caught MacMillian's eye and tossed it to him. A lighter. "Go build us a bonfire." He jerked his chin towards Durbin's prone form. "We'll look after him. Find Lena!"

  MacMillian palmed the lighter and broke for the passageway. Noncorporeal fingers brushed his cheeks, his shoulders, the back of his neck. He gritted his teeth and pressed forward. The spirits ceased their grasping, as though repelled by an invisible barrier.

  MacMillian blew out an incredulous laugh. "What do you know? The hoodoo man was right."

  ←↑↓→

  Lena relaxed as the shadow pulled her deeper.

  They came to her placid lake, the quiet place in her mind she had always retreated to. The shadow didn't stop. It dragged her below the surface of the water, deeper into her consciousness than she'd ever been able to venture on her own.

  It was as if the very universe opened up before her eyes. She struggled to take it all in. It was energy, pure energy. Planets, galaxies, stardust. She could see everything, could feel it vibrating deep inside her.

  And there, in the midst of it all, was Jimmy.

  Thin tendrils of energy licked from his etheric body, each one sunk deep into her essence. At the shadow's gentle insistence, Lena summoned forth the pain he'd inflicted. Even as a memory, it was agony. She took a deep breath and pulled it closer. Gradually, it morphed into something else.

  Rage.

  She reached out, and Jimmy looked up. His eyes widened.

  Suddenly, she was back in the cold room. Zintchio was still standing over her, still chanting. He swayed dangerously, his voice at fever pitch. The candles around the room started to flicker.

  Jimmy erupted from her body with a shriek. "What the fuck? There's something in there!"

  Zintchio screeched out a final, blasphemous word and seized her hand, at the same time laid his other hand on the corpse beside them. Lena howled as energy surged through her. The wheeled cart tipped over. Its contents spilled across the floor.

  Zintchio yanked his hand back like she'd burned him. He clutched it to his chest and stared down at her, eyes wide. "What are you?"

  Lena felt her lips twist as the shadow inside her smiled.

  ←↑↓→

  The passage grew steadily narrower. Further up, it opened into what looked like a second cave. Candlelight flickered from inside it.

  MacMillian squeezed his shoulders in tight and wedged himself the last few feet. He burst into the cave with a relieved grunt and looked around. Melted, unlit candles lined the walls. Light flickered through a gap between them; another doorway. Piled in the center of the floor was a small mound of... something. It certainly didn't look like paper.

  MacMillian drew closer. He snorted in disbelief. "Seriously? Who the fuck has actual goat-skin lying around?"

  He reached out and picked one up between two fingers. A strange symbol had been painted on it--with what, he didn't want to know. MacMillian wrinkled his nose and tossed it back onto the pile. He readied his grip on Cyrus's lighter. "One bonfire, coming up."

  An unearthly howl boomed out of the other doorway. MacMillian froze. It sounded nothing like Lena. Hell, it didn't even sound human. The hairs on his arms prickled. A chill ran down his back. He shook it off and struck the lighter.

  Nothing.


  "God damn it Cyrus, you did not give me a used-up lighter."

  Another scream echoed through the doorway. MacMillian's head jerked up. That one had definitely sounded like Lena. He took a step towards the doorway, hesitated and looked down at the pile of spells.

  Another scream. MacMillian swore and tossed the useless lighter aside. Then he gripped his cane like a sword and half-ran, half-limped through the door.

  ←↑↓→

  The corpse had moved.

  Lena twisted against her ropes. Not even her shadow friend could keep the panic at bay this time. The nylon bit into her wrists, and something wet trickled down her arms.

  The corpse moved again. Lena screamed until her voice broke.

  Zintchio had long since forgotten about her. He hovered over the creature, a beatific expression on his face. "Mehil?" He uttered the name like a prayer. "Is that you?"

  A raspy, wheezing sound whistled through the corpse's rotted lips. "Papa..."

  Lena's head spun. She blinked hard. She wouldn't faint. She couldn't faint...

  "My boy!" Zintchio picked up the creature's hand, seemingly unaware how the skin slipped in his grasp. "We did it! The ritual worked!"

  The creature ignored him. Mottled eyes sought out Lena's. Its blotched face darkened. "What have you done?"

  Lena shrank back. "I didn't want to, I swear! He made me!"

  Zintchio patted the hand still in his. Tears streamed down his weathered cheeks. "Mehil? What is wrong, my son?"

  "What's wrong?" The creature struggled to sit up. "I was gone. What am I doing here? Why am I back?"

  Zintchio beamed. "It's all right! It is true, you were gone, but I saved you. I brought you back." He reached out and touched the creature's matted hair.

  It pulled away with a snarl. "Have you lost your mind? Do you have any idea what you've done?"

  Zintchio blinked. "What I've... but don't you see? Now we have time. We can make things right between us."

  The creature let out a bone-chilling howl. "I don't want time! I want to rest!"

  Lena pulled as hard as she could. Unbelievably, the rope securing her left wrist snapped. She strained against the other.