by Linsey Hall
“Didn’t Florian say that that was around the time when Italy was shifting from worshiping the old Roman gods to Christianity?” Bree asked.
“I think so.” I pushed open the little wooden door and stepped inside. The air was cool and dark, and the stairs narrow. My footsteps were silent on the worn stone as I descended. The scent of old, stale air permeated the space, and I breathed shallowly through my nose.
Eventually, it became so dark that I had to ignite my lightstone ring. The warm glow illuminated the space but didn’t make it any less creepy. At one point, a spider the size of my palm stared right at me from the ceiling.
“Hey, buddy,” I said. “Just passing through.”
The spider ignored us, and I continued down to the crypt. The floor was rough old stone, and the ceiling so low it nearly touched Lachlan’s head. A few torches burned in the alcoves off the main space, which looked to be the size of a football field. Hundreds of arched vaults supported the church above, filling the crypt. Dozens of sarcophagi lined the walls, the massive stone coffins looking older than dirt.
“This place is huge,” Bree muttered.
“And creepy,” Rowan added.
“Let’s spread out,” I said. “But don’t lose sight of each other.”
“What are we looking for again, exactly?” Rowan asked.
“No idea. Something that looks like the Fates. Or Roman. They’d have been here before Christianity, and when the church came, it would have absorbed them to help convince the local population.”
We split up, staying within sight, and began to search the crypt. Upon closer inspection, the simple space was actually filled with carvings and decorations. The sarcophagi themselves were fantastic works of art, though many were so worn down with time that the intricate carvings were hard to see.
Little doors led to tiny rooms filled with more stone coffins, but I found nothing within them.
“I think I’ve found something,” Lachlan said.
I went to join him in an alcove. As I walked, I realized that the stones beneath my feet were more worn than the ones around me. More people had been walking this way. That was a good sign.
“What is it?” I asked, joining him and my sisters.
“I think it’s the Fates.” He pointed to a carving above a small door. Three women were depicted there, each wearing a flowing robe. The carvings were so old that all the details had been worn down. Beneath the three women, there was an inscription that looked like a cross with a circle around it. I didn’t know what that was, but the women were obviously the Fates.
I grinned. “I think you’re right.”
The door was ancient, the lock sturdy black iron.
Rowan tried the handle, but it didn’t budge. “Locked.”
“I got this.” Bree pulled her lock picks out of her pocket and knelt by the door. Within a minute, the lock clicked. She gripped the handle and pushed the door open.
We entered a small room built entirely of stone. A single statue stood against the wall across from us, a man dressed in two different types of clothing. His left side was nearly naked, draped only in a little scrap of cloth that covered his waist. In his left hand, he held a clutch of grapes. It was a very Roman statue. His right side was dressed in an elaborate robe, and he held a staff. That side was much more modern, relatively speaking.
Beneath him, the words St. Bacchus were carved in the base of the statue.
Suddenly, I understood. “Ah, he’s one of the Roman gods who was made into a saint to help convince people to convert.”
“Nothing like the god of wine to help ease the way in a big decision,” Rowan said.
In front of him, a massive stone basin was set into the ground. The thing was at least six feet across and stained a dark reddish brown in the bottom.
“What is that?” Bree asked.
Lachlan knelt and studied the stains in the basin. “I think it’s blood.”
“Blood and wine are linked in Christianity,” Rowan said. “So I buy it.”
There was nothing else in the room except for the basin and the statue, but I inspected the walls anyway, looking for a trapdoor. When I came up with nothing, I turned back to my friends, who were busy doing the same thing I had been.
“Anyone find anything?” I asked.
There was a chorus of nos.
I frowned at the basin. “Is St. Bacchus the welcoming party?”
“He unites the modern church with the ancient Roman religion, so aye, I think so,” Lachlan said.
“Which makes this a sacrificial altar.” Rowan knelt and touched a bloodstain. “Twenty bucks we each have to offer a drop.”
I grimaced but nodded. “I think you’re right.”
She drew a dagger from the ether and pierced her thumb, then let a drop of blood fall into the stone basin. We each followed suit with our own weapons. Pain stabbed my thumb as I pricked it, then squeezed the blood into the basin.
It landed with a splash. As soon as Bree, the last to offer, made her contribution, magic swelled in the air.
My heart thundered as the stone basin began to twist in the ground, revealing a spiral staircase that led even farther underground.
“Points to Rowan.” Bree grinned.
Dark magic wafted up from the staircase, smelling of dust and feeling like spiders crawling over my skin. I shivered. “Yeah, they’re down there. That’s some super dark magic, and I bet it comes from them.”
Lachlan went first, then my sisters followed him down the spiral stairs. I went last, giving St. Bacchus one last look. He seemed to shift slightly. I blinked, but the motion never repeated.
Had he really moved?
I shook my head. Maybe. But I couldn’t deal with that now. I went down the stairs, this time going deeper than ever. The space that we entered was far larger than the crypts above, though it was just as dreary and dark. It was filled with altars covered in sacrifices—gold and jewels and weapons and cloth. There were spaces for people to worship, stone designs in the ground that invited gatherings.
“It’s a cult,” Lachlan said.
“Makes sense.” I nodded. “They want power from somewhere, and these people help give it to them by believing in them.”
“But where are the people?” Bree asked.
“That could be a problem.” I didn’t want to run into them unexpectedly, that was for sure.
“They haven’t been gone long,” Rowan said. “Can’t you feel the energy in the air?”
She was right. The crypts had felt dead and unused. But this place—it felt alive. Like it was frequently used and very active.
“I think this whole town may be involved,” I said. “To fill this place up with sacrifices would take a ton of people. They’d have to go through the church above, and surely the priests would notice. They noticed us.”
A chill raced over my skin, and from the looks of my sisters’ faces, they’d realized the same thing. So had Lachlan.
“The priest may not have bought my story,” he said.
“No, maybe not.” There could be people after us even now if he’d alerted some kind of guard to our presence. “But it got us in here, and that’s what matters. Let’s find what we need before they find us.”
My heart thundered with the newfound knowledge that we now had a deadline hanging over our heads.
“We need to find them fast,” Bree said.
But which way should we go? The space was massive, and so much of it looked identical. But there was a pull of dark magic from the far right corner. I pointed to it. “Let’s go that way. It feels different.”
“It feels like the Fates,” Rowan said. “When they grabbed me back at our mother’s village in Otherworld, their magic felt like that.” She shuddered. “Awful. Like tiny stab wounds and slime.”
I winced. Yeah, that sounded awful.
We hurried past multiple altars and circular meeting places, finding a massive hallway at the back that was carved right into the earth. It wasn’t nicely
built like the rest of the space. Instead, it was just hollowed-out earth, looking like it led into the depths of hell.
12
We walked silently through the dimly lit tunnel, the Fates’ dark magic pulling us onward. After about a hundred yards, we reached a crossroads, where another tunnel intersected our own.
I hesitated briefly, looking at my sisters and Lachlan.
“Forward, I think,” Bree said.
“I feel it, too.” The dark magic tugged at me, strongest in front.
We continued on to where the path curved gently left. A prickle of awareness streaked over me. Whatever we wanted was around that bend.
“I think I hear someone up ahead,” Bree whispered.
“Guards?” I asked.
“Maybe. They’re talking quietly.”
“Let’s use your invisibility to go forward,” I said. “If there are guards, we’ll retreat back to the crossroads in the hall to come up with a plan. Sound good?”
“Aye,” Lachlan said.
Bree and Rowan nodded, and Bree’s magic swelled briefly on the air. As soon as we disappeared, we started forward, walking on silent feet toward the bend in the passage.
As soon as we made it past the turn, I caught sight of four guards standing in front of a heavy door. They were the same species as the ones at the bottom of the well, which meant they had a great sense of smell.
Immediately, I retreated back to the crossroads in the hallway. A moment after I stopped, Bree’s magic faded, and the four of us appeared.
“We can’t sneak past them,” Bree said. “They’ll smell us.”
“Attack?” Rowan asked.
“We could, but I hate to leave a trail of bodies or missing guards to lead others to us,” I said.
Bree tilted her head as if she heard something, then whispered, “Someone else is coming.”
I peeked around the edge of the hall, staring straight down the passage that we’d come from initially. Four figures wearing white, hooded robes approached us, their gait measured and stiff.
I pulled back into my hiding place and turned to my sisters and Lachlan. “Cult members, I think. They almost seemed like they were in a trance. They’re headed toward the guards.”
Bree and Rowan peeked around, then turned to me.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” I asked.
“Let’s steal their clothes,” Rowan said.
“And use them to sneak in,” Bree added.
“Aye, good plan,” Lachlan said.
We lined up out of sight of the hallway where the cult members were walking, ready to pounce. As soon as they walked in front of us, we each grabbed one, putting our hands over their mouths.
My captive thrashed and struggled, but I squeezed his neck in a sleeper hold that made him go limp. I laid his unconscious body on the ground and pushed back the hood.
“Unknown species of supernatural,” I said. “Not demon.”
“Mine too.” Bree looked up at me. “Young.”
“We can’t kill them, then,” Lachlan said.
“Mine should be out for an hour at least,” I said.
“Mine too,” Bree and Rowan said in unison. All three of us had learned the same sleeper hold together. Uncle Joe had taught us, and we’d used it to subdue rowdy bar patrons back when we’d been waitresses in Death Valley.
“An hour should give us enough time,” Lachlan said.
We pulled the robes off the cult members and traded out our costumes, dressing the unconscious figures in the dark robes we’d stolen from the washing line. Lachlan tore strips off one of the robes to make gags and bindings, and we tied up the cult members so they couldn’t run or scream when they woke up. Given how busy the upper level of this compound had looked, I had to assume someone would find them soon.
“I think I see a door a bit farther down the hall,” Bree said.
I hurried to check it out. It was more of a cave carved into the dirt than anything else, but it would do. I returned to my sisters and Lachlan. “Yep. Empty room. Let’s put them there.”
We dragged the bodies into it and left them lying against the wall.
“That should do it,” Bree said.
I pulled my hood up, cringing at the smell of body odor from the dude who’d previously worn the robe. Fortunately, the top of the hood came down low over my face, concealing most of my features.
Bree, Rowan, and Lachlan were equally covered up, though Lachlan’s robe was definitely too short.
“Hopefully they won’t notice,” he said.
“Fingers crossed.” I peered out into the hallway, grateful to find it empty. “Let’s walk up to the guards and try to say nothing. Hopefully this is a stoic, quiet cult.”
We strode out from our hiding spot and lined up the same way I’d seen them walking, then tried to mimic their measured steps as we approached the guards.
My skin vibrated with tension as we went. I prayed the guards wouldn’t figure out that we were fakes. As we neared, the smell of their magic nearly made me gag. Old, rotten, and reeking of dead things. They were just as big as the other guards had been, with bulging muscles and huge horns.
I swallowed hard as I stopped in front of them and nodded toward the door.
They just stood there, staring back at us.
Waiting.
But for what?
Frantic, I studied their figures, looking for some kind of clue. They each wore a dark tunic with a white symbol on the front—a cross within a circle. The circle wasn’t quite complete, and the open end had an arrow on it.
I squinted at the symbol, realizing I’d seen it next to the carving of the three Fates. Instinct pulled, my druid sense lighting up at the sight of the symbol.
I raised my hand, moving it in a pattern that replicated the symbol on the demon’s tunic. I used the little arrow as a guide for which direction I should use to create the symbol.
He grunted and nodded, then turned and pushed open the door.
Shock washed over me, and I stepped through the door, not hesitating for a moment. My companions followed, and we strode down the empty hall on the other side, trying not to hurry.
I glanced back just in time to see the door shut on the other side, the guards disappearing behind it.
“Holy crap, how did you know to do that?” Bree asked.
“My druid sense.” I shook my head. “It was the weirdest thing.”
“That symbol was in the crypt, over the door,” Lachlan said. “Good thinking.”
It had been mostly instinct, to be honest. But I was glad it had paid off.
We continued down the passage, which soon opened up into even more tunnels. We were deep under the earth, with no light except for a few sconces in the walls.
“We’re getting into the underground city now,” Rowan said.
“I can still feel their magic, though.” I pointed to a cave on the left. “The Fates are that way.”
“Onward, then,” Bree said.
We hurried down the passage, no longer sticking to our sedate, cult-member walk. The farther we went, the more passages we found, until we finally reached a large open area that looked like a central meeting place. The decorations were much finer here, with a beautiful mosaic floor and high ceilings supported by columns. Statues lined the walls, beautiful works of art that looked to be thousands of years old.
“Those look Roman,” Lachlan said.
“The whole place does.” I remembered images of mosaic floors from the research books I’d scoured, and they’d looked just like this. “Their magic is stronger, too, though I don’t think they’re here now.”
“Yeah, it feels too quiet,” Rowan said.
Bree rubbed her arm, no doubt feeling the same light prickle I did. “Let’s look around. See if they left anything useful.”
There were several exits off the main atrium, so we started exploring. We entered the first room through a tunnel, finding a square space with a mosaic-floored pool in the middle. It was shall
ow, with water gleaming under the light of torches. Several rooms exited off the main space.
“This looks like the central space of a Roman house,” I said. Just like the picture I’d seen in the books.
“One of their homes?” Lachlan asked.
“Maybe.” Their magic certainly lingered here.
We explored the rooms, finding a bedroom and sitting area, along with a room filled with sacrificial offerings.
“Someone’s a hoarder,” Bree muttered.
“No kidding.” I exited back into the main atrium, then found another house. “It’s set up identical to the first.”
“Perhaps each Fate has their own house down here.”
“Living underground all this time?” Rowan shuddered. “Sounds terrible.”
“They’re no longer worshipped like they once were,” I said. “Maybe they aren’t welcome above.”
“They’re crazy murderers,” Bree said. “Who wants to invite that to a party?”
I nodded. “True story.”
It didn’t take us long to search all three houses and determine that there was nothing here. At one point, the Cats of Catastrophe joined us, but they quickly wandered off to explore.
“We’re so close,” I said. “Yet there’s nothing here.”
“Are we in the right place?” Rowan asked. “This is their home, but maybe they have headquarters elsewhere?”
“It’s a possibility, but I—”
Magic surged on the air, cutting off my words. Suddenly, my head felt woozy, and a sense of giddiness raced through me, making me want to laugh.
What the heck kind of magic was this?
Rowan rubbed her head. “What’s going on?”
“There’s a god incoming,” I said. “The magic is so strong.”
A flash of light to my left nearly blinded me, and I turned. A man stood there, his form flickering in a strange way that I’d never seen before. One moment, he wore the robes of an ancient Roman. The next, he wore a more elaborate outfit of silks that was rich with embroidery. Like something the Pope would wear.
Or a saint.
“St. Bacchus,” I said.
Of course. His magical signature made a person feel drunk. The air tensed around me as my friends stiffened, ready for an attack. I really hoped that wasn’t St. Bacchus’s intention, though, because we’d have a damned hard time fighting a god.