I had to doubt that. Morgan wanted me to use Charlie. If I wasn’t going to do that, and I no longer had Maven’s authority, what was there to negotiate? Even if she really did send Katia to the meeting with a guard, the guard could shoot Katia in the head the moment they realized Charlie wasn’t with me, and take me as a hostage instead.
Trying to sound more confident than I felt, I replied, “I’ll figure it out. Is Quinn with you?”
“No. He called, though. He’s busy finding a new daytime hideout for Maven.”
“Ah. Smart,” was all I said. Sunrise was in an hour and a half. If I failed, or Morgan Pellar found some other way into Colorado, Maven would need to be somewhere Morgan couldn’t find her.
“Oh, one more—” Simon began, but he was cut off by another small commotion in the background. He returned after a moment, his voice pitched even lower. “Lex, I gotta go. Quinn’s guy is here, and so are the police.”
“Okay, bye.”
I hung up the phone, feeling nervous. From the moment Kelly had said the word “tunnels,” I’d pictured myself in something the size of a subway tunnel, holding a map . . . which would somehow point to a single big spacious underground room, which would be Morgan’s obvious hiding place.
But how much room would you really need for a steam tunnel? And if a lot of downtown Cheyenne had these underground tunnels, I might get lost down there forever.
The heat was on in the Jeep, but I found myself shivering. Could I even do this? What if I climbed down into one of the tunnels and just . . . froze? What if I got lost down there?
I didn’t have any answers, but now I was entering the downtown area, and it was 5:27.
Downtown Cheyenne had a big public parking garage where tourists could leave their vehicles all day. I dumped the Jeep there, grabbed the backpack of supplies, and quickly checked my weapons. I had two shredder stakes, the Smith & Wesson revolver with its .357 silver bullets, and a Glock 21 that held ten rounds of .45 ammunition. After a moment of thought, I put the Glock in a pancake holster at my back and dropped the revolver into the Western-style holster on my left hip, where I was strongest. I rarely wore the hip holster in cities—it made me look like a day player in one of those cheesy Wild West shows—but my thigh-length parka hid it easily. It was only twenty degrees out, but I left the coat unzipped. It would still be tricky to draw the Glock from my back, but I figured if I needed a second gun I was probably already in trouble.
Cheyenne’s downtown wasn’t all that big, and the parking garage was only a couple of blocks from the tunnel entrance on Lincolnway. I jogged the two blocks, my breath fogging in front of me as I ran through it. The sky would begin to lighten soon, but for now I was just running from streetlight to streetlight, on the lookout for any kind of movement that would indicate I was being watched.
From the moment I’d talked to Morgan, I had expected a trap—but I didn’t know what kind of trap. There were several times when I thought I saw something—a hint of movement, a glint off a glass window—but I was nearly late to the meeting. I wasn’t stopping unless someone stepped into my path.
At first, the intersection of Central Ave and East Lincolnway seemed completely unremarkable. The northern half had buildings on each side, and the southern half was a small public lawn bordering parking lots. Given the choice, I turned north, toward the buildings. On the northeast corner of the intersection, the building’s twin façades were broken up by a short alley, probably a place for vehicles to park and make deliveries. Along one side of the alley was a rickety-looking wrought iron railing with a narrow gate. When I got closer, I saw that the gate led to a set of concrete stairs. The stairs and the pavement next to them were littered with cigarette butts—probably a favorite smoking spot for the employees.
I switched on my flashlight and shone it down the stairs, exposing a heavy brick door at the very bottom. Even from here I could see a weathered silver padlock the size of my fist secured to the door. Shit. I had a small multitool in the backpack, but why hadn’t I thought to bring a bolt cutter?
I jumped the gate, which was only hip-high, and descended the stairs slowly, leaving the relative safety of the streetlights. When I reached the door at the bottom, I tested the padlock. It was thicker than it had looked from the top of the steps. Even the bolt cutters I had at home wouldn’t cut through that monster.
Anxious now, I felt around the iron metalwork that the bolt secured, hoping I might be able to break it or pry it open with the multitool, but despite its obvious age, it was sturdy. Fighting panic, I ran my gloved fingers over the top of the doorframe and along the seams, hoping for a hidden key. There was nothing.
Which meant I was screwed.
“Shit!” I smacked one fist against the bricks at face level and immediately had to shake out my hand from the pain. Now I had no choice but to go to the meeting and try to kill Morgan’s lackey before he or she could kill Katia. I had raised the dead for nothing.
Something dropped past my ear, and there was a metallic tinkling sound at my feet.
Quick as I could, I pulled the revolver and raised the weapon and the flashlight toward the top of the staircase, then ran the light along the railing. Nothing there.
I dropped the light to my feet and saw a bronze key on a cheap key ring. I squatted down to look closer, not touching it. The key chain was a smiling cartoon animal with a mischievous grin.
A wolf.
I flashed the light up again. “Who’s there?”
A familiar face popped over the railing above my head, smiling down at me. Then another. And then a couple of snouts pointed through the bars, and a big-ass brown wolf appeared above the gate at the top of the stairs, leaning on his front paws.
“Hey, Lex,” Mary said with great satisfaction. “You know, it helps if you have a key.”
Chapter 40
There were five werewolves total, though only Mary and Keith were in human form. It was Keith who pushed the little gate open—not even slowing down as he snapped the thin metal lock holding it closed. A sand-colored wolf with a white undercoat and bright blue eyes trotted past the others and down the stairs, where he reared up to put his front paws on my shoulders, licking my cheek with a warm pink tongue. “Tobias,” I said, laughing a little. “Gross. Get down.”
He dropped to all fours, still doggie-grinning up at me with his tail and ears high. I looked up at Mary, who had come around the railing and started down the stairs, her long legs bare under a hip-length parka. “What are you doing here?” I asked.
“Got a voice mail from Simon. He said you could use some help.”
That was what Simon had been about to say on the phone—that he’d told Mary I was coming. I eyed her. “You must have already been back in Cheyenne, to get here so fast.”
She blew out a breath, taking the last step. I tilted the flashlight down so I wouldn’t blind anyone. “Yeah, well. I thought about what you said. We all did.” She glanced behind her, up at the rest of the group, then looked at me again. “I’m the alpha,” she said simply. “And if we’re going to be a pack, we needed to come back to Cheyenne.”
I bent and picked up the key, holding it up to show her. “And how do you have this?”
Her face hardened. “Because,” she said with a little heat, “this is our fucking town, and those are our fucking tunnels.” She lifted her chin. “Ryan Dunn discovered them almost twenty years ago, and figured they’d be a good emergency place for werewolves to change if we ever got stuck in Cheyenne during the full moon. Our pack has spent years exploring the tunnels in both forms—not to mention finding creative ways to keep humans away.”
Which was why no one in Cheyenne wanted to talk about them. I nodded. “And when Morgan Pellar killed three of your wolves—”
“She effectively broke up the pack so someone else could come in and take our territory,” Mary said flatly. “We’ve checked all four of our entrances tonight, and they all smell like strange wolves.”
I looked down at the
key in my hand. “How did they get in?”
Mary gave me a smile that was all teeth and hostility. “That’s exactly what I’m planning to ask them.”
I wondered if the flashes of movement I’d seen had been the wolves, but it wasn’t really important. “Wait, you’ve been scouting downtown? Did you see anyone at the Depot?”
Keith started to shake his head, but Mary said, “Yes. There are two werewolves waiting on a bench, a male and a female. The female has a blanket over most of her.”
“Crap.” Morgan had sent a decoy to the meeting point in case I didn’t bring Charlie. I took no particular satisfaction from being right. “Okay, well, I’m already late, and it sounds like there’s a lot of ground to cover. We should go in and start searching.”
She shook her head. “That won’t be necessary. We’re pretty sure we know where Morgan is holed up.”
I brightened. “Really?” That would save me so much time.
Mary nodded. “These tunnels are just a grid, with a few old maintenance closets—but at the southeast corner there is a natural offshoot leading toward Holliday Park.”
I tried to pull up my mental map of Cheyenne. “What’s at Holliday Park?”
“What’s beneath Holliday Park,” she corrected. Her smile was grim. “It’s a cave.” She gestured at the key. “Come on, let’s get moving.”
With the werewolves keeping watch, I unlocked the heavy door, pushing hard to swing it open. To my surprise, it was warm inside. Mary was already unzipping her parka. “We’re going to run, so you might want to leave your coat here,” she told me, dropping her own on the floor of the tunnel, just inside the door. Beneath it, she was wearing an athletic tank and short-shorts.
I shrugged out of my coat, exposing the hip holster. Nobody in the tunnels was going to care if I was armed. Keith’s jacket was no more than a windbreaker, but he took it off and dropped it on top of Mary’s coat and mine.
“Why is it so warm? I thought these tunnels weren’t being used.”
She shrugged. “Dunn knew more about how it works, but I think a small amount of heat still leaks into the tunnels from the depot.”
“Okay.” I pointed the flashlight into the tunnel. It was perfectly round, with two huge pipes running along the right side at waist height. The walls were stone or concrete, with metal-caged utility lights every hundred feet or so. Most of the lights seemed to have blown out, and I had no hope of navigating without the flashlight.
I had been expecting lots of moisture, for some reason, but it was dry and silent. “Finn, Tobias, and I will go ahead of you,” Mary said, stepping backward without looking, going deeper into the tunnel. “Alex and Keith will bring up the rear.”
She saw me shifting my weight from one foot to the other and stopped moving. “What?”
“Nothing.” I glanced at the round walls, my chest already tightening, and Mary followed my gaze. I realized the beam of my flashlight was shaking slightly. She marched back to me.
“You’re claustrophobic,” she stated, hands on her hips.
I winced, not bothering to deny it. “I’ll be fine.”
Mary sighed and put a hand on each of my shoulders. “Look at me,” she said, her voice low and calm.
I tore my gaze away from the cramped space and met her eyes. “It’s a tunnel,” she emphasized. “It goes on and on. You will not be trapped.”
I just nodded, because what else could I do? I had to go in, and I had to be okay.
You can do this, Allie, came Sam’s voice in my head. This isn’t the Humvee, or the hole in the desert. There’s plenty of space.
Mary looked at me for another moment, then looked at Tobias, who was sitting next to me. “Tobias, stay with her,” Mary commanded. “If she panics, get my attention.”
Tobias ducked his head in compliance, then shoved his head under my hand. I scratched behind his ears a little absently, taking comfort in his canine presence. I didn’t really understand why Tobias liked me so much, but at the moment I was grateful for it.
“Okay,” Mary said, nodding at Finn, the biggest wolf. My eyes narrowed at him, but it wasn’t exactly the right moment to bring up how someone with mechanical experience had tampered with Dunn’s car. At least he was going up front, where I could keep an eye on him. “Let’s go,” Mary said.
And we began to run.
In either form, I discovered, werewolves are basically made of stamina.
I was in very good shape—and I’d spent a lot of time running while carrying weapons—but I was exhausted and sore and fighting claustrophobia. Running through the tunnels with werewolves, some of whom I wasn’t sure I could trust, felt like slogging through warm water, and I had to push hard to keep up.
To distract myself, I thought about what Mary had told me. I had a hard time picturing Morgan Pellar holed up in a cave. It wasn’t that she was too sophisticated and worldly—she’d grown up on a farm, after all, and like all the Pellars, Morgan had definitely leaned in to the “hippie-Wiccan” vibe. But her whole thing was about power, and hiding in a cave wasn’t a power move. Of all the places in Wyoming, why would she choose this one? And how would she even know about it? From what Simon had told me, the Cheyenne tunnels were now kind of an urban legend.
She didn’t just know about the tunnels. Sam’s voice sounded thoughtful. She had a key.
“Good point,” I panted. Finn and Tobias both overheard me and glanced over their shoulders, but I gave a little headshake to show I was fine.
It occurred to me that Sam had talked to me twice in the last ten minutes, but not at all for hours before that, when I’d been in the middle of some scary stuff. She hadn’t had a single comment about me raising the dead, which seemed . . . troubling. That was the kind of life-altering decision Sam would usually weigh in on. Was she not allowed to talk about it, the way she hadn’t been allowed to help me save John?
I puzzled over that for a while, but we were approaching the southeast corner of the tunnel grid before I figured out any answers. By then I was breathing hard, and my heart felt like it was pounding out of my body. I’d scraped my arm against the pipe twice, creating a small cut that was trickling blood. But at least I hadn’t freaked out . . . yet.
Ahead of me, Mary’s pale, churning legs slowed to a walk and finally stopped. Turning toward me as I caught up, she pointed to a bend in the tunnel just ahead. “Just around that corner, there’s a small sandstone offshoot that opens into the cave,” she whispered. “The cave’s plenty big, so you should be okay, but if she has wolves or bloodsuckers in there they probably already know we’re here.”
I nodded and clicked off my flashlight to keep the light from bouncing around the corner where someone might see it. Then I shoved the light in my pants pocket, trying to keep my hands from shaking.
I kept the revolver with silver bullets in my left hand, which would take care of werewolves, but I had no idea what I was going to do about Morgan. My magic was basically useless against other Old World people.
But Katia was in there, and I was losing time. “I’ll go in first,” I said to Mary. “If Morgan throws me into a wall, try to overpower her. Do not kill her unless absolutely necessary.”
Her eyes narrowed at that, but I didn’t stop to explain. Instead, I turned the corner—and saw them.
The tunnel in front of me was filled with ghosts. They were packed in like sardines, some even seeming to overlap each other. Most were remnants, but a few had the angry, glowing definition of wraiths.
And every single one of them appeared to be on fire.
Chapter 41
As I stood there with my mouth open, they all seemed to catch the scent of my blood at once, turning toward me with curiosity on their pain-twisted features.
“Lex? What’s the matter?” Mary had stepped up beside me, and looked from me to the tunnel in confusion. She couldn’t see them.
The wraiths began to move toward me and I took an instinctive step backward, nearly dropping my revolver. At my side, To
bias pressed his body into mine, baring his teeth at the invisible threat.
“Shit, shit, shit,” I hissed, backing away farther.
“What?”
“Ghosts.” My mouth was instantly dry, and I was having a hard time speaking. “There was a fire down here. Lots of people died.”
“Oh.” Mary looked at the hall again, squinting like that would help. “Is it a problem?”
I almost laughed. “Yes.” The closest wraith, a man about my height, was only a few feet away now, and he stretched out one arm to touch me. It was on fire, and though I could feel no heat, his face was gnarled with agony and anger. I backed up until my spine hit the wall.
Something bumped my shoulder, and I realized distantly that it was Keith.
“What’s going on?”
He and Mary started talking, but I couldn’t listen anymore, because they were so close. I could move sideways, back around the corner, but then I wouldn’t be able to see the ghosts, and that was somehow scarier. My pulse was going so fast I wondered dimly if I was having a heart attack.
Think, Lex, Sam’s voice screamed in my head. You can lay ghosts!
Right. I may not have had the obsidian, but Valerya’s bloodstone pressed against my chest, solid and comforting. I crouched down, set the revolver on the tunnel floor, and squeezed the cut on my arm, too freaked out to feel the pain. The wraith was only two feet away, and there were two more behind him.
I hadn’t bled enough for a full circle, so I touched the smear of blood and drew a line across the tunnel floor as quickly as I could. Thank God the little stone offshoot was rectangular instead of circular. I pressed the tips of my tattoos on the line, and though I’d never actually done this before, my bloodstone helped me figure out what to say. Wall.
The wraith’s outstretched hand hit an invisible barrier and confusion crossed his features. But he had stopped. I hugged my knees to my chest, scooting my body into the corner.
Mary finished her conversation with Keith and squatted down next to me, resting one bare knee on the tunnel floor. “What just happened?”
Boundary Broken (Boundary Magic Book 4) Page 26
