Steps led up and out of the water. They took a moment to recover and stretch back out before continuing on.
After a half hour of walking, crawling, and searching several side passages and empty chambers, Malcolm held up a hand, halting the procession. He lifted his head and sniffed. "You smell that?"
Victoria sniffed and shook her head.
Luiza was the only one that nodded. "Yeah." She drew a deep inhale and curled her nose.
"Compass doesn't see anything," Matt said.
Malcolm drew Hounacier. "Keep your eye on it."
Weapons ready, they moved forward, searching the crags and shadows. They passed one room that was simply a round pit. A swirling pattern of rocks and broken glass covered the floor ten feet below. Malcolm stopped at an intersection and sniffed again, then gestured to the left.
Victoria licked her dusty lips, her hand squeezing Ibenus' wood grip. A faint stink tickled her nostrils, growing stronger with each step.
"Jesus Christ," Orlovski muttered, the back of his hand across his nose.
They rounded a corner. Dim light issued from a hole in the wall a dozen yards ahead, a lone window shining in the blackness.
Victoria breathed through her mouth, trying to avoid the pungent reek of shit.
Malcolm killed his headlamp. "Stay here," he whispered. Hounacier out, he crept into the shadows. He stopped just below the opening and removed something from his vest.
Malcolm lifted a square mirror atop a telescoping metal rod. He peered through the crude periscope, moving it around, then motioned. "Clear."
The hunters hurried forward, the stench growing palpable as they neared.
Matt was the first to reach him. "What do we have?"
"Kill site."
Pushing her way beside Chaya, Victoria peered through the narrow window into a room. The air that touched her face was warmer than the rest of the catacombs and carried a metallic tang. A column of stacked rocks, held together with globs of mortar stood in the middle, shadows spoking outward from it, cast from a trio of discarded flashlights. Glistening blood splattered the walls, running down the pale stone in long trails where it joined the puddles in the floor. A red-soaked backpack lay strewn open, contents spilling from a slashed hole in one side. A wet mound of purple and pink organs was piled on one side. A crinkly length of intestine ran away from it, along the floor, over one of the lights, and out the door like a discarded water hose.
Bile rose in Victoria's throat and she turned away, allowing Luiza a peek into the cave of horror.
"Nothing on the compass," Matt said, checking the bottle. "With all the rock, range is for shit."
"They couldn't have gotten far." Malcolm removed a tablet from his pack and flipped it on, flooding the passage with pale light.
"It's messier than we've seen," Orlovski said. "Previous sites were clean of remains. They'll probably come back for the rest."
"Maybe. Maybe not." Malcolm's fingers moved across the screen, expanding the map. "If they took live victims the eel might corrupt them before the cleanup crew arrives."
"I don't see another way through," Victoria said, peering over Malcolm's shoulder. "This cut through window isn't even showing."
Malcolm scrolled through the maze-work of tunnels beyond the room. The passages' colors ranged from white to orange, depending on depth. Blue signified flooded or regularly flooded regions. Red markers indicated exits to the surface. Behind their position, a noodle-work of green passages, the least prevalent color on the map, depicted where all they had cleared. "This looks to be the only way." He flipped off the screen. "Let's go."
Matt was the first to peel off his pack and slither through the waist-high window. Dämoren out, and trained on the doorway, he stepped over the red pools, making room for the next hunter.
One by one they crawled inside. Over the course of the last few days, they had the system down. Something squished beneath Victoria's boot as she came through and she resisted any urge to look. Twin rows of prong-shaped dots, like curved V's speckled the walls and floor. Bloody footprints. Eyes watering from the stench of blood and disembowelment, she re-shouldered her bag and followed the knights into the adjoining hall.
The prints continued for several feet, appearing black under the red caving lights, the occasional smear where something dragged the floor elicited memories of Gerhard's limp body being hauled away.
Blood compass and revolver in front, Matt led them down a low tunnel thirty yards before it split. The blood spots were fewer, difficult to find, but Chaya spotted one that led them to follow the south tunnel. They walked in silence, headlamps searching the walls. Victoria ran her thumb nervously along Ibenus' grip straining her ears for the sounds of scuttling feet or a baby's laughter.
The passage shrank lower and lower, forcing them to hunker and eventually crawl. Any traces of blood were gone, but the occasional claw print in the dirt assured them their quarry had passed this way. After twenty cramped minutes on their knees and elbows, the tunnel intersected a wide arched passage. A single rust-colored smudge marked the exit's lip.
Careful not to touch the blood, Victoria crawled free and dropped to the floor. Stretching her tight muscles, she surveyed her surroundings. The prevalence of spray-painted graffiti told that this tunnel served as an arterial route for cataphiles, a subterranean highway.
"Which way?" Luiza said, arching her back.
Eyes squinting at the screen, Malcolm checked his map.
Matt crouched, inspecting the floor. "Tracks lead this way."
"Here, too," Chaya said from the other direction. "Looks to be a lot of traffic."
"This is a huge section." Malcolm flipped the map around for everyone to see. "Too much for us to clear in one day." His dusty fingers hovered above the screen, tracing the paths on their descent from pale yellow to the bright hazard orange of the deepest depths.
"Running out of time if they took prisoners," Matt said. "You said so, yourself."
"I still think we're going to find the eel somewhere deep. One of the flooded chambers."
"So which way?" Matt asked.
"It's not that simple," Mal said, turning the map toward him. "We have several possibilities."
"Then we'll split up," Luiza said.
Victoria bit her lip. They'd split several times before, but never when they had proof that demons were nearby. Not wanting to be the naysayer, she eyed the others, hoping someone else might mention it.
"Agreed," Malcolm said.
Hand on Amballwa, Orlovski let out a low breath. "Are we sure about this?"
Thank you, Taras.
"We know they're around here." The Russian looked both ways up the hall as if expecting screamers to emerge.
Chaya coughed something under her breath.
Orlovski shot her a flat look. "That what you're in to?"
The Israeli gave a teasing shrug.
"Three should be sufficient," Luiza said.
Malcolm tapped his screen. "Be careful. We know they're close. We'll meet back here in two hours."
#
In a life of chasing monsters and hiding from people out to kill him, Matt had hunted in twelve countries and three continents. He'd stalked forests, mountains, desert, snow, swamps, cities, and roadside towns that could measure their population in single digits. And in that impressive buffet of miserable and shitty places to kill or be killed, Matt hated mines most of all. It wasn't the sense of being buried alive or a fear of toxic gas. He could handle that. It was just that nothing ever went as planned when a mine was involved. Things always went sideways.
Now they were traipsing through the weirdest damn mine in the world. His body ached from days of crouching and crawling. Every night, he had to blow a pound of gray-brown crud out of his nose. He was banged, scraped, bruised and there was no end in sight. Exploring the Catacombs could take years, and that was providing that what you were looking for wasn't actively hiding from you. Matt just wa
nted to get back to Belgium. He missed Gabi like crazy. At first he thought a little vacation from the crying and diapers might be pretty nice, but now they were nearing a full week and he wanted to hold her. He didn't complain to Luiza about it. She was taking it harder than he was.
He also wanted to see Allan, make sure he was doing okay. The daily video conferences weren't enough. Allan was like a brother and, aside from Luiza and Gabi, was the only family he had. Well, maybe Schmidt to some extent. Schmidt and Matt's adopted father Clay had been tight, sort of like him and Allan, so he kinda muscled his way into Matt and Luiza's family, like some crazy part-time uncle that shoots machine guns and challenges you to drinking contests. There was also Ester, Luiza's mom, though she wasn't a Valducan. Luiza's dad had been a knight, as had his father before him, so Ester at least understood the life.
"Hold up," Luiza said as they reached an intersection.
Matt halted, keeping his attention to the passages ahead and to the right. Chaya maintained rear guard. He checked his blood compass. Nothing.
Pale light blinked on behind him, flooding the area in colors other than shades of red and black. "Right tunnel," Luiza said, and then the light went out.
She put the tablet away. Luiza motioned her head and they followed. The tunnel turned a series of right angles, eventually widening into a large chamber easily forty feet across. At its center, between a pair of questionable support columns, their lights gleamed off a miniature castle built of clay with bottle glass windows and tiny, dusty banners along its towers.
Luiza led them past it without a second glance.
Matt checked the compass. Still nothing. They'd been going for forty-three minutes. Another twenty, twenty-five and they'd need to head back. They'd lost radio contact with Mal's team after the first half hour. He didn't like being cut off. What if they needed help? Maybe they found a demon, or one of them got hurt. What if that murdering son of a bitch TommyD showed up? Matt couldn't help but wonder what Victoria might do if that happened. Would she stay true to her word, a word that meant jack shit to him, and plug the bastard? Or would she pop Mal and Taras in the back of the head, steal their weapons, and take off?
Why Luiza trusted her, Matt didn't know. Luiza just said that she did, and that was that. Matt knew better than to push the point once her mind was made up. Still, it felt like she was siding against him. For Allan' sake, Matt hoped she was right.
Alcoves lined the passage beyond the room, each haphazardly packed with yellowed and crumbling bones. In Paris' long and bloody history, burial space became a premium. After centuries of bodies buried atop bodies, graveyards formed pregnant hills. Sometimes they burst, spilling rotted corpses into neighboring basements. Eventually, they made the bold decision to exhume the millions of dead and transfer them to the old quarries. Several hundred thousand were stored in the official ossuary, a special section that was sealed off from the rest of the mines. It was now a tourist site, the bones cleverly arranged in artistic patterns, walls of skulls and pillars of femurs. But the bulk of those bones were unceremoniously deposited down here. While bones and the dead didn't bother Matt, not after the life he'd led, the sheer volume of it was staggering.
"Did we take a wrong turn?" Matt asked as they reached a mortared wall sealing the passage.
"Shouldn't have," Luiza said, a hint of uncertainty in her voice. She unzipped the pouch with her tablet.
Not one to pass the opportunity, Matt removed his pack as well and set it on the floor, happy to be rid of the weight. Chaya followed suit. She stretched, her vest creaking with the movement.
The glow from Luiza's screen flipped on. "The map says it goes through."
"Map is wrong." Matt wandered the fifteen feet back to a brick wall along one side of the hall that sealed two thirds of a side passage, leaving a crawlspace along the top. He peered down the narrow tunnel. The floor was solid bones, ribs, broken craniums, vertebrae–thousands of bodies worth, four feet deep and stretching beyond the end of his light like a river of death. "Christ."
"That tunnel should cut through," Luiza said. "Maybe that's what they were referring to."
"Is there another way?" Matt clicked his headlamp, increasing the beam. The trough extended at least sixty feet before opening up at the far side. It reminded him of one of those ball pits he played in as child, but nowhere near as inviting.
"I'd rather not go through that," Chaya said, craning her neck.
"I bet there's a prize down there if you dig."
"You first."
Luiza fidgeted with her map. "If we go back a kilometer, it appears to loop around. Passage might be flooded though."
Matt dimmed his light. "Don't think we have time."
"Me neither." Luiza frowned, her chocolate eyes studying the passage of bones. "By the time we made it through that, we'd have to turn back around and hustle."
"Well," Matt said, taking the cue. "I say we mark this as a spot to return to and head back. Maybe Mal's team found something."
"I'm down with this," Chaya said.
"All right." Luiza clicked off her tablet and slid it back into its waterproof bag. "Let's see what the others found."
Matt heaved his pack back on. He gave an unconscious glance to the bottle in his hand and froze. The blood-pinked water was clear. Along the side, the one facing the bone trough, a sphere of blood pressed against the inner wall. A surge of excitement shot up his spine, banishing the exhaustion. "Contact."
The two knights spun, hands moving to their swords.
Matt motioned his head in the direction the compass pointed. The red bead was sliding along the bottle's wall. The demon was moving.
Luiza looked at it, drew her katana, and moved toward the half-wall in a crouch.
"We going for it?" Chaya asked, sliding Khirzoor from its scabbard.
"That a problem?" Luiza's tone was ice cold, serious.
"Just making sure." Chaya's humor seemed to have risen by the same degree Luiza's had vanished.
"I go in first," Luiza said. "Chaya, then Matt. Stay close so Khirzoor hides our sound." They nodded and she was up and over the wall. Bones clicked and crunched as she slithered through the gap. As her feet slid inside, Chaya grabbed the lip and pulled herself up before Matt could even offer to help. Once she was through, he scrambled up, scraping his helmet on the low ceiling.
Bottle still his hand, he wriggled across the dead. The ancient bones crackled beneath him like dry rotted sticks. His padded knees and elbows sank into them with each movement. Chaya's boots pistoned inches from his face as she crawled, and he had to keep his head down to prevent one from taking him in the face.
Above the pops, rattling, and scrapes as they hurried, a baby's soft coo echoed from up ahead. Shit.
They scrambled faster. A giggle. Gabi's chubby face flashed in Matt's mind, a sound that once brought joy now perverted.
"Visual!" Luiza called.
Children's screams erupted in the tunnel, echoing all around them. How many? Four? Five? Matt's pack slammed into the ceiling as he tried to hurry and his foot became buried in bones. They were almost half-way through now. They needed to get out before they were trapped. He glanced at the compass. The blood sphere had split.
"Two demons!" he called. The minions wouldn't show on the compass, only the mantismeres themselves. Six screamers per monster.
The sharp clack, clack of a suppressed pistol made him wince but they kept crawling.
One of the red beads slid away from the other, moving around. More shots came from ahead. Wisps of gun smoke danced in the beam of Matt's headlamp.
A giggle came from behind, sending a cold shiver down Matt's neck.
He rolled and looked back down the passage past his own boots.
A pale, doll-faced insect stood in the opening, its eyes liquid black. Its mandibles opened and it cooed.
Shit!
Spidery legs reached around the edge and a second screamer crawled up into the trough.
"They're behind us!" Firing Dämoren in here would deafen them all, but the holy revolver wasn't needed for these fuckers. Dropping the compass onto his stomach, Matt clawed for the Ingram slung tight across his chest.
The first bug cocked its head and scuttled inside as a third one climbed into view.
Matt pulled the machine pistol up, not bothering to remove the protective sock he'd put over the barrel. Spreading his knees and feet as wide as possible, he squeezed the trigger. The burst came as a metallic roar.
Old bones exploded in plumes of dust and the monster blew apart. Steam poured from the mulched corpse, bringing a gut-wrenching stench.
The other two bugs wailed. Matt swung the gun toward them, shearing the legs off one with another burst, but the other one leaped to the side and burrowed beneath the bones.
Fuck!
Putrid steam and smoke filled the tight tunnel. Eyes watering, Matt searched the bones. He caught a glimpse of movement as another screamer hurried inside, but it was gone before he had the gun up.
A bowl-shaped cranium wiggled, the bones shifting beneath it. Screaming, Matt pulled the trigger, unleashing an explosion of grit and shattered bone. Hot brass bounced off the walls, tinkling around him. One shell landed in the crook of his neck, scalding him, be he kept firing until steam wafted out from beneath the powdered bones and the Ingram's bolt clicked.
"Go! Go! Go!" he yelled, scrambling along his back, one hand fumbling at a magazine pouch. The compass rolled off him, but he snatched it up, holding it beneath his chin. Matt slapped the fresh magazine in and fired at something moving at the exit. He had no idea if he even hit it.
They were almost out. Luiza's gun was still firing. Splinters of bone dug into the backs of Matt's arms but he kept going. His ears rang but he could still hear the shrill wails.
The bones between his legs shifted, forming a mound. The tips of mandibles poked through and Matt rammed the Ingram's barrel directly against them and fired. Shards of bone pelted his face as he drilled out the area, moving the gun in a circle. Black ooze splattered his thighs and hands.
Ibenus (Valducan series) Page 26