3 Minutes to Midnight: Urban Fantasy Midnight Trilogy Book 1

by L. M Hatchell

  Doing as she was instructed, Phoenix plugged in the hard drive and waited nervously. Where the hell was Ethan? What if he’d been caught?

  Despite the icy cold air coming from above her, sweat dripped down her spine and her hands felt clammy. Every buzz from the machines or new flashing light made her heart ricochet, and when the door to the server room opened suddenly, she nearly pissed her pants altogether.

  “Phoenix?” Ethan’s voice whispered from the far side of the room.

  Stepping out from behind the server – with difficulty since the cable tentacles had become tangled around her legs – Phoenix called softly, “Over here.”

  “Where’s the guard?” she asked when he came into view.

  “He’s otherwise occupied.” Ethan grinned, looking very pleased with himself. “How are we getting on?”

  “Nearly … there …” Nate’s voice came through the earpiece to both of them at just that moment. “Okay, I’m in.”

  And just to prove his point, the distant sound of alarms reached their ears and emergency lights began flashing red in time with the sirens.

  ***

  The trip via stairwell to the lower depths of the lair was thankfully uneventful. Whatever distraction Nate had managed to concoct seemed to be working, and his newly acquired access to the security system allowed him to keep them updated of the guards’ position at the far side of the building. Their luck was holding out. Temporarily at least.

  When they reached the fifth floor where the lair’s security team was housed, they stopped and tentatively peered through the small glass panel in the door. A lone guard sat in front of a bank of monitors, swivelling on a black leather chair as he used a sharp hunting knife to clean dirt from under his nails.

  They could take him out if they needed to, but would it be worth leaving a trail? Phoenix wasn’t convinced they’d find anything of use in Raphael’s quarters, and the thought of getting anywhere close to the scent of him again made her sick to her very stomach.

  Ethan waited patiently, giving her space to make the decision, and following her without a word when she took a breath and continued further down the stairs.

  Level six: her old living quarters. She hesitated, waiting for the barrage of memories, but none came. The truth was, this place held no real memories for her, just an overwhelming sense of sadness. That realisation allowed her to walk past the door on the sixth floor and continue down to the final level. No time, or need, for a trip down memory lane when there was no lane to walk.

  The seventh and final level housed Darius’s living quarters and personal office. Phoenix had visited him there many times while she lived in the lair. She could vividly remember the large, solid mahogany desk and the bookcases filled with ancient tomes she longed to touch. It was one of the few places she hadn’t felt alone.

  What they were doing now felt like a complete betrayal of everything Darius had done for her, but there was information here they needed. Darius kept detailed files on every vampire in his clan. If there was information to be found on Il Maestro, it would be here.

  Although there were no security cameras for them to contend with on this floor, access rights were even more restricted than the other levels. Relying once more on the pocket-sized wonder of technology from Nate, they waited impatiently for the right code to get them through the stairwell door.

  When the pin pad flashed green, Ethan pulled the door open and ushered her into the hallway beyond.

  Mahogany panels lined the rich wine-coloured walls, mirroring the décor of Darius’s office. The lighting was muted, coming only from intricate candles placed in alcoves at equal intervals along the hall.

  The stairwell had barely disappeared from view when a noise dead ahead stopped them in their tracks. Voices drifted down the hall, though the words were muted by the hushed tones. Phoenix’s heart tap-danced in her throat as she recognised Darius’s voice.

  Ethan grabbed her hand and tugged her into an unlit alcove a few feet ahead of them. As they huddled in the shadows, she tried desperately to calm her heartbeat. Surely any vampire within a twenty-mile radius could hear the blood racing through her veins.

  From her new vantage point, the voices became clearer, certain words jumping out vividly: Raphael, update, ritual.

  She took a slow, deep breath and eased herself to the edge of the alcove to peer carefully beyond the wall. Two large figures stood, barely visible, at a bend in the corridor, just out of reach of the flickering candlelight. Darius’s shape was as familiar to her as her own, but the second figure she couldn’t quite make out. It was neither figure that caught her attention, however. It was what they were standing in front of.

  A door.

  What the … There shouldn’t be a door there …

  Just as the thought crossed her mind, the door closed and the two figures walked briskly in the direction of their hiding spot. Ethan pulled her close to him, pressing her back against the wall as he shielded her body with his. The musky scent of him, coupled with the adrenaline flooding her veins, made her head swim. Phoenix could feel his muscles tense in preparation for a fight, but his breathing remained calm as he forced her to meet his eyes. She focused on the steadiness she saw there, using it to help her to relax.

  The voices drew closer and Phoenix wracked her brain desperately for a way out of the situation. She was seriously contemplating jumping out and yelling, “Surprise!” when the footsteps suddenly stopped. Ethan raised an eyebrow but didn’t move, his body remaining unnaturally still.

  Realisation dawned on Phoenix when she heard the chime of a lift, and she nearly dropped to the floor with relief. The voices cut off abruptly with the closing of the doors, and she finally allowed herself to release the breath she’d been holding. A wide grin split her face, but the happiness was short-lived.

  “Come on. We might not have long,” Ethan said, stepping out of the alcove once it had been quiet for a minute.

  Phoenix followed him down the corridor, but halted abruptly when she came to the spot where the two figures had stood.

  “Where’s the door?” She looked at the space in confusion, not seeing any sign of the door but knowing it must be there.

  Ethan placed both hands on the wall and moved them systematically across the wall until eventually he nodded. “It’s well hidden, but it’s here. I can feel the edges.”

  “So, how do we get it open?”

  He didn’t answer, but continued his careful exploration with a look of deep concentration. Eventually, a low click sounded and the wall swung outward, forcing them to jump back.

  Her heart pounded in her chest as she stared into the gaping darkness that appeared before them. Gone were the plush floor coverings and richly panelled walls. In their place was cold, hard stone with steps leading deep into the earth.

  “You know where it leads?”

  Ethan’s question broke through her thoughts and she shook her head. “I had no idea it even existed. It feels … wrong.”

  She shivered, something about the darkness making her want to run in the opposite direction, to scrub herself raw until she finally felt clean again.

  “Dark magic.”

  She looked up in surprise and was met with a grave expression.

  “What you’re feeling is dark magic.”

  Ethan’s words repeated themselves on a loop in Phoenix’s head as they slowly descended into the darkness, the only light coming from a candle Ethan had grabbed from a nearby alcove.

  Why would she be feeling the weight of dark magic? It didn’t make any sense.

  Her confusion was only heightened by the trajectory of their steps: downwards. Never in all of her years had she heard mention of an eighth level to the lair, yet here they were, very obviously descending deeper underground.

  Without even realising he’d stopped, Phoenix found herself running into the solid mass of Ethan’s back. She reached out for the wall to steady herself, but quickly pulled her hand back as a bone-deep chill, unlike anything sh
e’d ever felt before, shot through her.

  Everything about this felt wrong to her, and as she craned her neck around Ethan to view the large stone chamber that had opened before them, she felt no more comforted by what she saw.

  In the centre of the room stood a large stone altar surrounded by thick black candles. Even in the dim light, Phoenix could make out dark stains covering its surface, and she refused to let herself think too deeply on what may have caused them.

  As she turned a slow circle to take in their surroundings, Ethan walked around the chamber with a grim expression on his face. Following his lead, she stepped further into the strange room, grimacing as the unclean feeling intensified and settled over her limbs like a palpable weight.

  A single lap of the chamber was enough to leave her feeling sick to her stomach. Weapons of a sort she had never seen before adorned the walls, their metal covered in thick stains not dissimilar to the altar. Intricate symbols were carved at random intervals and pulsed with energy as she passed them.

  “We should probably get out of here before someone comes back,” Ethan said, his face somewhat paler, even in the dim candlelight.

  Phoenix rubbed her arms, trying in vain to chase away the chill that had settled into her bones. Her instincts were screaming at her that they were missing something, but for the life of her she couldn’t figure out what it was.

  She turned in another slow circle from her new vantage point by the altar to take in the room one last time. As she reached the end of her rotation, something caught her eye on the far wall of the chamber – a small patch that seemed different to the area surrounding it. It was so subtle that she wasn’t quite sure if her imagination was playing tricks on her.

  Holding her breath, she walked towards the wall. Her eyes struggled to determine what had caught her attention. As she drew closer, the dark shadow began to take form; it was small and so dark that it almost blended into the stonework. She reached her hand forward and was surprised to feel the cold touch of metal, even though part of her expected it.

  “It’s a handle,” she called back to Ethan, impatiently urging him to come closer with the candle.

  Phoenix groped around on the rough stone until her hands found the grooves of a doorframe, set so tightly into the wall that it was almost invisible, just like the entrance to the chamber had been. A solid and imposing lock sat below the handle and Phoenix gave it a tug, not really expecting it to open.

  “Can you break it?” She looked at Ethan hopefully, willing to admit he was the stronger Supe if it meant gaining access to whatever was behind the door.

  He reached out a hand to examine the lock, but pulled it back as if he’d been burned. He shook his head ruefully. “There’s silver built into the lock. I won’t be able to break it. Our only hope is to find the key. Or …”

  “Or what?” Phoenix tapped her foot impatiently, in no mood to play psychic.

  “Or you could try to melt it.”

  That made her pause. The memory of the heat was fresh in her mind from the attack by Raphael mere days ago. It might not have been enough to stop his attack, but it had been there. And for once, it had been useful. A fae power.

  Could it really hurt to try now?

  There was only one problem: she had no idea how to do it, at least not on purpose. Would she even be able to call on the power of the sun so far below ground? At night?

  Grinding her teeth, she mumbled self-consciously, “I don’t know how to start.”

  Ethan placed a hand on her shoulder and looked at her with an intensity that made her squirm. “I’ll help you, just trust me.”

  The sincerity in his warm, brown eyes calmed her, and she realised suddenly that she did trust him. So, she nodded, expecting to fail, but willing to at least try.

  “Close your eyes.”

  He waited until she obeyed before continuing. “Place your hands on either side of the lock. Good. Now, try to picture a warm light building between your hands. Feel the heat pulling from the centre of your chest. Feel it growing with every breath …”

  She was about to tell him to cut the mumbo jumbo and speak English, when suddenly her palms became warmer. Her eyes opened in surprise, jaw dropping when a small, white spark ignited between them.

  Clinging to that small spark for all it was worth, she concentrated on the warmth radiating from it and imagined it growing stronger. It flickered, and in a panic she fumbled, desperate not to lose the light. Ethan squeezed her shoulder gently and she felt grounded once more. Phoenix closed her eyes and focused on her breathing. Each exhale pulled the warmth from her centre, and slowly, she felt the heat grow between her palms as it gained life.

  She wasn’t sure how long she stood there before a loud clunk shocked her from her trance and pulled her awareness abruptly back to the room. A lump of metal lay on the ground at her feet, and she stared at it in shock. When she looked up, Ethan had a wide grin on his face and his eyes shone with something almost resembling pride.

  Together, they turned to face the door and a strange sense of dread replaced the heat in the centre of Phoenix’s chest. With the lock no longer impeding the way, it was a simple matter of pulling the heavy door open to see what secrets it hid. She watched with her breath held as Ethan inched it open. Her heart hammered louder and louder with every creak.

  The first thing that struck her was the smell. It was so overwhelming it almost formed a physical barrier to the small, stone room that appeared in front of them.

  No, not a room, a cell.

  Human excrement left a stench so putrid it was palpable, and almost, but not quite, masked the metallic tang of blood. The air was thick with decay and cloyed at the back of Phoenix’s throat as she tried not to breathe through her nose.

  Ethan moved into the cell first, almost disappearing in the darkness. Every instinct in her body wanted her to turn and run. Leave this place and scrub herself clean of its memory.

  Instead, she followed him.

  Even her heightened senses struggled to adjust to the darkness, but when they did, her stomach heaved at the sight that met her eyes. The cell was tiny, no more than ten feet wide. Sharp metal instruments of all shapes and sizes hung from one wall, and a drain sat in the centre of the floor. Dark stains covered the instruments and coated the surrounding walls.

  But what troubled her most was the shadows that filled the corner furthest from the door.

  Two bodies lay huddled in the corner, covered only by rags. Chains hung from limbs that were little more than bone, and they were surrounded by the remains of human waste.

  Beside her, Ethan growled low in his throat as he too noticed the frail forms. In the darkness his eyes flashed yellow, and something about his uncontrolled anger made the hair stand up on the back of her neck.

  Steeling herself against the sight before her, she inched forward with trepidation.

  Just as Ethan reached out a hand to stop her, one of the bodies moved. As if in slow motion, she watched the head rise. Long hair hung limply, coated in dirt, framing a face that was little more than a skeleton.

  Frozen, Phoenix watched in horror as the head turned, and she was met with the anguished gaze of vivid green eyes.

  Eyes that were almost identical to her own.

  And she screamed.

  Phoenix’s scream cut through Ethan like a knife. He had known what they would find when they stepped into the small stone cell; the familiar threads of her unique signature had filled his senses before the truth could even register with her.

  Moving quickly, he clamped a hand over her mouth and urgently whispered soothing words to calm her. If they drew attention to themselves now, they’d all be dead.

  Ethan couldn’t pull his gaze away from the green eyes that were so like Phoenix’s. They reflected an untold pain back at him, but also disbelieving wonder as they stared in awe at what could only be their daughter.

  As soon as he was confident Phoenix would stay quiet, he released his hold, freeing her to run to her mother
. His chest clenched as he watched her reach out with trembling hands. It was obvious she wanted so much to touch the woman, but it was hard to imagine how even the slightest touch wouldn’t bring pain to the frail form.

  Shifting his gaze to the other form that lay huddled in the corner, his fists clenched in anger. The naturally pale skin of who he assumed to be Phoenix’s father, was now almost translucent as the man lay unmoving at the feet of her mother. Even in the man’s unconscious state, what was left of his muscles appeared to be clenched tight in agony, and Ethan could guess all too well what tortures had been inflicted upon him.

  As Phoenix sobbed quietly with her mother, he looked around the cramped space for a way to break the chains that held her parents. It took him only seconds to spot the keys – hanging on the wall barely more than an arm’s reach from the two prisoners.

  Ethan’s wolf growled and he had to fight back the rage that boiled up in his chest. The level of cruelty was not surprising considering the physical torture that had obviously been inflicted, but the thought of freedom being so tantalisingly close – for ten long years – was soul-destroying.

  Not wasting a second more, he grabbed the keys and unlocked the chains, careful to avoid the silver coating the vampire’s manacles.

  “Daddy?” Phoenix’s voice cracked as his movements drew her attention to the still form of her father.

  When she looked up at Ethan, her tear-stained face was filled with horror. “How are we going to get them out of here?”

  Ethan could feel another, similar pair of green eyes staring at him intently, beseeching him. He knew what those eyes were asking, and it went against everything in his nature. But he couldn’t refuse.

  Meeting the eyes of Phoenix’s mother, he gave a small nod of acknowledgement and gently moved Phoenix from where she was now huddled over her father. Before he had time to think further, he allowed his claws to extend and sliced along his forearm. His wolf squirmed uneasily, but stayed silent in agreement. He forced his arm against the vampire’s mouth, angling it as best he could to ensure the blood would make contact.