Better off Dead Book Two

by Odette C. Bell

  He showed me four vaults. Toward the end, I knew that he started to appreciate something was up. I barely looked at the vaults before I asked to see another. Though he was clearly trained in controlling his expression, I saw irritation building up at the corners of his lips. As I foolishly asked to see one more vault yet again, that irritation quickly turned into suspicion.

  “Perhaps madame would like to take a seat in the atrium while I go and find more vaults for her to peruse?”

  I forced a smile over my mouth. I could read between the lines. While he was off so-called finding more vaults for me to peruse, he’d be talking to security.

  I didn’t make it obvious that I’d cottoned on. I played with my long blonde hair. “Actually, I’ve changed my mind. Can I go back to the first vault?”

  “That vault is currently being shown to another customer. I’ll take madame back to the atrium. Would madame like coffee or tea?”

  ... So he was now so suspicious of me that he was going to go get security by default, regardless of what I said to placate him?

  Okay.

  I had to appreciate that coming here was a risk. One that I likely was not going to be able to shoulder.

  I had just saved myself from Purgatory, for God’s sake – I should have been more careful.

  I settled a stiff smile on my lips and nodded politely.

  He turned around and took me through the tunnels.

  Shit, shit, shit. I was screwed.

  I tried to think of what I could do. As thoughts flitted through my head, I didn’t notice as the slightest shudder shook through the floor. Blame it on the fact that I’d been through far worse in the last 24 hours, let alone my life.

  The concierge, however, stopped dead.

  I could see a slice of the side of his face. His skin paled like powdered bone. He immediately shoved a hand into his pocket and drew out a phone. He placed his shaking palm into the middle of it until the screen lit up. He yanked it up and locked it against his ear.

  He didn’t speak, but someone else spoke to him. Judging by their worried tones, something was going down.

  I tried to incline my head closer to hear what it was, but he quickly snapped his head back around. “Madam will wait in the vault room.” He jammed the key randomly into the air, and the vault room appeared behind me.

  Before I could protest, he pushed me inside and locked the door.

  Shit. Shit, shit, shit. I know I’d said that before, but it bore repeating a thousand times over now.

  I’d walked into a frigging trap. For all I knew, the call he’d gotten might’ve come from Hilliker himself.

  I thrust forward and banged on the vault door with a rounded fist. “Hey, let me out of here,” I hissed, but no matter how loudly and insistently I banged, nobody answered.

  I didn’t give up. I kept pounding until too much blood rushed into my hand and tingles escaped down my arm. I almost clenched my fingers and let magic spring forth, but I stopped myself in time. I turned and stared at the vault. That would be when another powerful shudder passed through it. It was so violent I had to thrust a hand to the side and hold on to the metal wall. As my sweat-slicked fingers slid down it, I inclined my head back to the door. Had I just heard a scream behind it? Ostensibly, you should not be able to hear such a thing through such a thick door. The whole point of a vault, after all, was to keep things secure. That did not just mean diamond rings and gold bullion. When magic was concerned, sometimes you even had to keep sounds secure. Whether they be eternal songs, verbal passwords, or the voice of a loved one, these vaults should have been able to block off all sound. But as something thumped into the vault door and I actually felt it, I was certain I heard another scream.

  I pushed back.

  I heard another scream. I had no clue how I was picking them up.

  I flattened my hands on the vault door, closing my eyes tight. Sure enough, there was another scream and something else smashed into the door.

  I jerked back. I paled. The most secure location on the face of the planet was being attacked.

  The ante had just been upped. And I – I was trapped.

  Chapter 12

  I didn’t bother to pound my hands against the vault door anymore. I turned on the spot, squeezing my eyes closed as I tried to think things through.

  I needed to get out of this vault. It was a level III. Before I’d come here, I’d done some groundwork. I’d looked at the respective security of each level of vault. It ran right up to level 100. That gave me cause for hope, right? If I was only in such a lowly rated vault, then maybe I’d be able to get out with just a little magic.

  I tested that theory out as I whirled on the spot, crushed my hands into fists, and smashed them forward. Magic blasted out, flame rising high off my knuckles. The wave of power blasted into the vault door, but it did nothing. There were these tiny little vents either side of it, and they sucked down the magic with this popping sound.

  I tried again, more fear sailing through me.

  While objectively I might not be in the line of fire and someone might have just inadvisably tried to attack the vault tunnels, I knew what would happen if I stayed here. The longer I remained, the more likely Hilliker would be to find out that I wasn’t in Purgatory. While I was certain I could fight off the compulsion charm, I wasn’t as certain that I would be able to stop him from using it to find me.

  Desperation pounded in me as I let loose with another barrage of magic. This was even brighter and far more destructive, but despite the fact it struck the door with everything it had, it wasn’t quite enough.

  My hair stuck to my brow as I tried once more. I was utilizing so much magic, it was lighting up the vault, sending shadows and light dancing around in a chaotic mess.

  I tried once more. I gave it everything I possibly had, but it wasn’t enough. I fell down to my knees, panting.

  Outside, I thought I heard another scream. I didn’t know why I could discern them. I shouldn’t be able to even begin to hear anything, but I couldn’t deny my senses.

  Perhaps they had become more acute since my travel through Purgatory. More likely, it was because my magic was increasing.

  As I remained there, still panting, my body rocking back and forth, I tried to let myself appreciate that fact. My magic was increasing. I dropped my hands and stared at my resurrection symbols.

  I’d made it out of Purgatory, for the love of God. I doubted there was ever any other soul in history who’d managed that.

  So if I could make it out of Purgatory, “Then I can make it out of this damn vault,” I finished my thought as I spat those words out.

  I no longer randomly threw magic at the door. I concentrated, curling my hands into tight fists, using them to center my attention and ground my magic. I let it spill up my legs, push into my torso, and radiate down my arms. As the concentration encapsulated me, I let hope rise with it.

  This vault was, ultimately, part of pocket space. I’d lived in a pocket space for the greater part of my life. I knew how they functioned.

  They were carved off from reality by walls of magic. All you had to do was pierce through the magic, and you’d be able to punch a hole out of the pocket. That should be almost impossible in this vault – unless I could find a weakness.

  Rather than get down on my hands and knees and search the floor and ceiling for any slight cracks, I let my magic do it instead. It spilled out of me in these strands that were reminiscent of how those two priests had fought me in the hospital.

  Taking a leaf out of their book, I kept control of the strands as they made their way through the room. They delicately touched the walls and floor, trailing around like seaweed.

  At first they found nothing, but I would not allow myself to become disheartened.

  I kept concentrating until finally I found the slightest crack. It was so small, you couldn’t really define it as a break in the wall. It was more like a tiny dent. It was microscopic – and as such, it was highly unlikely that I w
ould be able to exploit it.

  “No,” I corrected myself immediately. “It’s highly unlikely that an ordinary practitioner would be able to exploit it.”

  With that hope sailing through me, I drew those strands of magic back to myself. Then I took a deep, heavy breath. I opened my eyes. I spread my arms. It was the same position that I took up when I was being resurrected. It had once scared me to my core, but now I embraced it for what it was.

  Without a word, I let light spill out of me. I directed it at that small crack. I pushed in and in then further in again. At first nothing happened, but then I started to hear these light cracks as if someone was putting too much weight on glass.

  More sweat beaded and slipped down my brow. I ignored it.

  I kept going until that crack grew.

  I hadn’t thought of what I would do when I made it outside. Maybe it would be the perfect opportunity to go find my adoption records, but if the entire tunnel system was under attack, then concierges and security would be everywhere, notwithstanding the attackers themselves.

  I would take it all in my stride once I got out of here.

  I’d never been one for planning. That had gotten me into trouble too many times to count – let alone the sheer horror it’d caused in the past few days. Back in the past I hadn’t planned because I’d been arrogant. I’d known that, ultimately, even if I got into more trouble, I would just be resurrected. But now this wasn’t arrogance. It was a realization that there was more power within me. I just had to keep digging deep down to find it.

  As that word echoed in my mind – deep – I finally did it. I exploited that micro vulnerability, and the vault door cracked. It happened suddenly as I blasted through the magic of this pocket space.

  The crack was massive. I gave it a helping hand as I walked over, encapsulated my foot with magic, and kicked.

  The vault door crumbled, falling out into the tunnel. At first it didn’t exist, but as I strode out, it had to make itself in front of my eyes.

  Before it could, I saw three concierges down, blood dripping from their heads. They just hung in this black void until the tunnel appeared.

  I didn’t need to check them to know that they were still alive – they were just out for the count.

  I went to run, but I stopped. I dashed forward and checked the first guy for his key. It was gone.

  My stomach sank. Did that mean that there were bank robbers out there? Worse than that, competent ones?

  What if... it was Hilliker himself? While he might not know I was here, maybe he needed something from this vault system. The last thing I wanted to do was run into him by accident.

  I checked the second concierge. His key had also been stolen. The third one didn’t have a key, either, but something told me to check his ankles. He had holsters there. There were tiny keys locked in them. I had no clue what they did, but I figured they must be useful, so I took them off him. I threw them into my subspace pocket. Then I gathered the concierges together and pulled them into the broken vault room. It wasn’t much, but hopefully it would be able to protect them. The vault at least remained even when the corridor didn’t have anyone in it, so it meant they didn’t have to hang in void space.

  Once I was done, I ran forward. As the corridor continued to build itself in front of me, I paid utmost attention to the continuous shudders that rushed through the floor. They were violent, and they were only getting more so. As they shuddered up into my heels, ankles, and knees, I tried to judge just how much magic was being used to create them.

  It didn’t take me long to conclude that it was a lot – a frightening amount. Which meant I was not dealing with any ordinary attack. The only people I knew who had this much magic were the priests of Hilliker or the man himself.

  My gut twisted so badly I could’ve lurched to the side and thrown up. Who knew what would happen to the contents of my stomach, though? If I threw up in a section of corridor that hadn’t been built yet, presumably yesterday’s lunch would become a permanent fixture of the tunnel system, hanging out in the black voids forevermore.

  I reached a T-intersection. I went to head to the left, but my gut kicked. I followed my intuition and went to the right.

  My palms began to itch. At first I ignored it, but then I darted my head down and stared at my resurrection marks.

  ... They were glowing. It was slight, but it was there. They were never meant to glow.

  I almost stopped. But I couldn’t afford to be distracted. There was another almighty shake. As it smashed into the floor below me, it was powerful enough that it forced me to jolt up. Once I landed back down, I flattened a palm on the floor. It seemed that the fight was happening in a tunnel system just below me.

  ... I had to make my decision, didn’t I? Should I go to the fight, or should I use it as a distraction?

  I didn’t need to incline my head back in the direction of those concierges to realize that they were desperately outmatched.

  But did that mean I could do much for them? If it really was Hilliker, I’d just be handing myself over to him, and things would get a whole lot worse – not just for the tunnel system, but for the entire freaking world.

  Though it felt wrong and my stomach practically growled at me as if it were a wild beast upset that I was ignoring my intuition, I headed away from the scene. I soon came across what looked like an elevator. Though it wasn’t recommended to use such a contraption in a fire, one could extend that to an unholy priest attack. I didn’t have any option, though. I jolted inside. It was to the sight of a concierge down on his side, his hands over his head, his body shaking in fear.

  As soon as he saw me, he jerked away.

  Before when I’d said that the staff of this tunnel system were some of the strongest practitioners in the world, I hadn’t lied. So the sight of one cowering like this made no sense.

  I reached toward him, but he snapped back, his head banging against the elevator wall. That’s when I saw the lines of dark light wiggling under his skin. They were almost about to reach his eyes. I had no clue what they were, but I wasted no time in jolting forward, grabbing his throat, and stopping them in place. The poor guy thought I was about to squeeze his head right off. As fear danced in his pupils, I saw him plead for his life.

  “Don’t worry – you’re not my target. Just hold on.” I had no idea how to fight those wriggling black lines, but I took my mind back to what Sonos had said in the hospital. It was some form of unreality hex – deep, true chaos magic. And how do you fight chaos? Order.

  As I held his throat, I concentrated on bringing order to his body. I didn’t need to map his circulatory system or know exactly what his neurons were doing – all I had to do was give his body the energy it needed to get over the chaos.

  I kept my fingers secured around his throat until I felt the wriggling stop.

  I pulled back. The guy stared at me, obviously waiting for me to crunch back in and snap his neck. When I didn’t, his fear caught up with him, and he jolted back, snatching a hand around his throat.

  I rose. Without taking my eyes off him, I jammed my elbow into the control panel by the door. I had no clue where exactly the mob were keeping my orphanage records. As I’d already said, there were tens of thousands of tunnels – let alone vaults. I wasn’t about to check every single one on every single level – I just needed to get out of here. We were directly above the commotion. As soon as I put some distance between myself and it, I would figure out what to do next.

  The guy continued to watch me. He looked as if someone had deboned him. As the elevator doors finally closed, I tugged my attention off them and settled them on him. “There’s no need to fear. I’ve counteracted that infection – whatever it was.”

  “You work for them,” he hissed, real fear vibrating through his voice.

  “Who?” I frowned.

  “The attackers. Only they can control this magic. You work for them. You are an acolyte of the Banished,” he hissed.

  I’d been conten
t to ignore his paranoid mutterings, but as soon as he said that, I whipped my head around. My cheeks paled. No, no, no – damn it all to hell. He’d just confirmed my darkest suspicions.

  It really was Hilliker’s priests out there. Which presumably meant the man himself would not be that far behind.

  “I do not work for that bastard,” I spat. “Tell me everything about the attack.”

  He shook his head, his eyes opening wider, his gaze becoming wilder. “Your kind will fail. The magical community will band together to rip you from this realm. You’ll be pushed into Purgatory forevermore. And you will deserve every single second of your punishment.”

  I crossed my arms. “Trust me, buddy, I’ve already been to Purgatory. It ain’t that hard to escape. Now, I don’t really care if you want to believe me or not,” I said, subconsciously mimicking something that Sonos always said to me, “but the truth of the matter is I’m on your side. I would never work for that Hilliker bastard.”

  “How do you know it’s he who attacked, then?”

  I twitched. I was meant to be in a frigging disguise – but there was no point in one if you couldn’t disguise your knowledge.

  I turned my nails in and scratched them down the side of my head as I realized the situation was catching up to me. “I have a history with that bastard, okay? Now, I came across three beaten concierges. I placed them in a vault room so void space wouldn’t mess with their heads. When this is all over, be sure to go find them.”

  His eyes widened again. If he kept doing that, his eyeballs would fall right out of his skull and roll around on the floor by his crumpled body. “I’m not falling for this,” he hissed.

  I rolled my eyes. “Like I said, I don’t really care. What you believe is up to you. But if you want a hand with those bastards out there,” I jammed my thumb down, “then tell me what’s going on.”

  The guy said nothing. He just watched me as if I was a monster. The doors beside me pinged open.

  I went to turn and get out of there, but that’s when I saw a veritable horde of concierges running my way. The corridor hadn’t yet been built between them and me. With every angry, pounding step, tiles created themselves and slipped under their feet.