Thirty-nine
I screamed as wood jabbed, poked, and whammed into every part of my body all the way down the steps. Finally the world stopped spinning, and I lay on the floor. Throbbing pain racked my body. The dull glow from a flickering light on the ceiling blurred in out of view. I focused. Cracks ran down the plastered walls and grit was on the floor. Jolie’s last words were burned into my mind. My family wanted to take him out? Huh?
The door was shut and probably locked at the top of the stairs. Pouffant actually did me a favor because just a short jaunt down the passageway and I’d be at the catacombs. But he’d be back with his minions. He wouldn’t leave me alone with access to his underground tunnels filled with his secrets. I had to save Mom and then keep running and exit through Jolie’s house. I think I could find it again. I hoped.
With a groan, I stood up. The room spun, and I waited for my vision to clear. My fingers traced a path through the grime on the walls as I headed toward the door in the back. Creepy crawlies ran up and down my spine the closer I got. I turned the knob and stared down into the never-ending darkness.
I pulled a flashlight from my pack and made my way down. The steps passed under my feet quickly, winding down and around until I reached the bottom. Flashing the light ahead of me, I ran through the tunnels, ignoring the cobwebs and bones. I tried to remember the path I took the last time, but all the walls and tunnels looked the same. With each turn, fear of failure weighed on my shoulders, heavier than the thick air pressing in on me. As the tunnels twisted and turned, I realized there were no forks or turns. It was a straight shot. I sprinted/hobbled harder until I burst into a cavernous room.
“Mom!” I called as loud as I dared.
If my life were a reality TV show, glitter and confetti would drop from the sky and the crowds would cheer. With arms open wide, a cheesy grin on my face, I dreamed of running into her arms. We’d escape into the sunshine, maybe stop at a café and sip a few lattes. I think I even smelled whipped cream and a bit of hazelnut. But I didn’t find Mom. I came to a halt and stared in shock.
A man sat slumped over in the chair, snoring gently. Fresh ropes bound his ankles and hands. Dirty clothes hung off his body. The pants were tan, maybe? I tiptoed closer, afraid to wake him but knowing I needed to. Why this man? I expected Mom. Did this mean Mom was out free and clear? Or did they have her tied up in a separate cavern. The mystery doubled.
He murmured in his sleep, but I couldn’t understand him. After a glance back toward the darkened tunnel, I gently shook the man’s shoulder. Once, and then again. Finally he lifted his head and tried to focus on me. His eyes were so dark brown the whites appeared very white. His face was pale from a lack of sun, and his hair fell to his ears in an uncombed mess. Underneath the dirt and grime, he probably wasn’t too much older than me.
“You,” he whispered.
I took a step back. Me? I got down on my knees. “You know me?”
“It’s you. You’re real.” He had a heavy accent I didn’t recognize, but he spoke perfect English.
He tried to move his arms, and his face flashed with pain. What was I thinking?
“Let me untie you. I’m so sorry.”
I moved to his back and pulled out the knife tucked into my sock and under my pant leg. With one slice, his hands were free and then his feet. He rubbed his wrists and then reached out to me. He ran his fingers down my hair.
“Long and black. I knew it.”
I let him touch me because clearly he wasn’t in his right mind.
“You don’t know me, sir.”
Compassion surged through me. The last time I was here. The empty chair. He must be the prisoner who’d escaped. Obviously, he hadn’t made it. He probably hadn’t eaten a proper meal in forever.
“I don’t know how long you’ve been here but we need to go.” I tried to help him up. “I know a way out.”
“I can’t believe it’s you.” He stared off, and the start of a smile tugged at his mouth. His eyes grew moist, but he shook it off. “No. I need to talk to you.”
His eyes cleared and he glanced down the tunnels. “They will come. I’m not strong enough to escape. But you are. And you must. I’ve been waiting, staying alive, for you.”
Crap. The guy was having delusions from dehydration. I pulled out a water bottle and held it up to his lips.
“Drink.” I tipped the bottle. “Then you’ll see.”
The water spilled down his throat and the sides of his mouth, making dark prints in the floor of the cavern. He choked and pulled away.
“Thank you. Thank you. You’ve been too kind. That’s enough. You need to listen.” He slipped into a different language.
I gently gripped his arm to help him stand and lead him away. Our time was running out, and I couldn’t just leave him here.
“Come on, let’s go.”
He pulled away and spoke in English again. “No. You must know!” His eyes held a hint of desperation and he grabbed my arms with newfound strength. “I’ve been hiding the truth. I left my brethren. I risked everything. To find you. To tell you. To save your life.”
Clearly this guy wasn’t going stop. “Fine. Tell me. But make it quick. We have angry French pastry dudes coming after us.”
“That is not important. You have more dangerous enemies than Jolie.” His voice grew scratchy, probably from lack of talking during his captivity.
“More water?” I offered the bottle again.
“No. No. Not now. A few years ago I had visions. I kept them to myself and did nothing because they made no sense. I saw fire—great flames—leaping toward the ceiling. For many nights, I stood at the edge of the vision and felt a rush of warm wind. I thought the wind was from the fire. But then the vision changed, and a set of large wings were above the fire, fanning the flames, making them hotter, brighter, and bigger. And you were there.”
“Okay, listen.” This guy seemed nice and all but being a hostage had affected his mind. “I think the air down here has gotten to you.”
Was that muffled footsteps I heard? “They’re coming. We have to go. Now!”
“No! I must tell you!” His voice rose to a frantic pitch. “I tried to tell the brethren about my visions, that you needed help. But they laughed me off.”
“Now I know you’ve got the wrong girl. I’m here to save you, not the other way around.” This guy had completely lost his marbles.
“At first I thought it wasn’t important either. As time went on,” his voice dropped low and he glanced around, “the vision changed again. This time, the fire faded. All that was left were the charred bones of the dead. You were gone.”
I tried to lead him out of the room but this guy was much stronger than he looked. He gripped my arm and pulled me close so I felt his breath on my face. His voice came out raspy.
“I made the mistake of telling the brethren about the new vision. This time they took my words very seriously. When I left, they followed me. They know that your family has been part of a centuries-old struggle that has led to bloodshed. They will come after you.” He coughed and drew a ragged breath, then continued, “They let me leave, because they knew my visions were from a higher power. I am meant to save you, so I am forever at odds with my brethren.”
A voice rang through the cavern, sounding like a gunshot. “Aha! And you thought you could get away?”
A Spy Like Me Page 40
