A loud snap cracked through the cavern, and the entire ceiling seemed to collapse, hitting the surface of the blackish water with a splash. Ascher and a soldier were lucky enough to become tangled in the vines during their fall, only the soldier lost his purchase, slipping and ended up with a rope wrapped around his neck, his legs frantically kicking for purchase as he clawed at the vine as he was slowly strangled.
Ascher struggled to untangle himself, burning and snapping the vines, but by the time he fought his way free, the soldier had stopped struggling.
To her surprise, the vines remained on the surface of the lake instead of sinking. While it might provide a makeshift life raft, the tangled mess was like putting plastic wrap over the surface. Those underneath weren’t able to break through to breathe.
Katar and two of his soldiers remained on top of the vegetation, bitching and complaining. Ward landed only a few feet away, struggling to untangle himself as he began to sink below the surface.
Morgan scanned the area for Atlas but didn’t see him.
Nor did she see an exit of any kind.
“Morgan, don’t.” Draven was studying her from only a few yards away, his eyes narrowed, as if he knew what she was thinking.
Before the others could guess her intent and stop her, she released her hold on the vine, crossed her arms over her chest, and clamped her legs together. She plunged through the air, spearing through the tangle of vegetation and into the water.
The temperature was bitterly cold, and she fought against the need to gasp. The phoenix fluttered against her back, and the water around her warmed instantly. The strain of crawling, then swinging from vines, triggered a vicious ache in her shoulder where the newly carved sigil had been placed. Swimming only aggravated the pain building in her shoulder, limiting her movements.
Four more splashes hit the water next to her, and she quickly recognized the guys. She scowled, not happy to see them. If they got themselves killed trying to save her, she would never forgive them. As she peered through the dark liquid, she was surprised to see only one soldier frantically scratching at the vines for air.
She saw no sign of Atlas anywhere.
Loki struggled out of her shirt, then began to swim, his movements slow and uncoordinated, churning the water as if he was trying to run. He snapped playfully at the bubbles around him before catching sight of the men. He quickly figured out how to use his tail as a rudder and hurried over to join them.
Kincade scooped the pup up and quickly secured him in his shirt, despite the wiggling pup’s protest.
The distraction cost her.
A hand enclosed around her ankle, and she found herself being dragged into the depths of the lake, dropping a foot a second. She instinctively kicked and glanced down to see who the hell had grabbed a hold of her.
Only to see a fucking zombie dangling off the end of her boot, his weight dragging her lower!
Panic made her thrash and struggle to escape before her training finally took over. Instead of fighting the pull, she twisted and began swimming downward. The weight lifted off her foot, and she managed to unhook the claw-like hand.
The zombie was what remained of an elf. His long blond hair was patchy, chunks torn out of his ravaged scalp, the long strands tangled around him. His pale skin had scaled and flaked, turning a splotchy green as it floated around him in the water, scarcely clinging to his body in spots. The flesh was rotted, huge chunks torn free. The lips were gone, revealing a macabre smile.
When he reached for her again, Ascher swam toward her and grabbed the arm to wrench him around…only to come away with the arm dangling from his hand. The zombie leaned forward, his teeth chomping, disturbingly similar to one of those wind-up toys.
Ascher kicked the zombie, but the water weakened the blow, only sending the zombie-elf back a few feet. Swimming proved difficult with only one arm, though, and he sank slowly out of sight.
Unable to stop herself, Morgan followed the progress and saw what appeared to be hundreds of churning bodies writhing at the bottom of the lake. One soldier was being torn apart by the horde, the process disturbingly visible in the water as he was slowly dismantled and consumed until the water thickened with blood and the view became obscured. The blood only seemed to incite the zombies, and more and more of them piled on top.
The thrashing brought little bits of particles swirling up from the depths, tiny pieces of decay and rot that had long since fallen off the zombies’ bodies. The crud brushed against her, stuck in her hair, the knowledge nearly cracking her sanity and sending her into a full-out panic.
Atlas was down there somewhere!
After a second’s hesitation, she began to swim toward the swarming mess of tangled creatures, struggling not to vomit at the sight of the swimming dead.
Something brushed her shoulder, and Morgan jolted, twisting around and brought up her fists, half expecting to find an animated skeleton.
Instead, Ascher lifted his hand, then pointed beyond her shoulder.
She paddled and kicked, turning…and saw Atlas fighting off three aqua-zombies. Draven swam like he was a part of the water, his body slicing through the lake. He dragged one of the zombies away, using strength alone to haul the struggling weight.
With one arm free, Atlas lost his shit.
Instead of killing with his usually efficiency, he snarled and grabbed the head of the nearest creature, giving it a vicious twist, madness lurking in his eyes as he ripped it clear off the zombie’s body.
He then used the skull to bash the remaining zombie until its face caved, the features completely obliterated, leaving pieces of rotting brain matter churning in the water. Then Draven was back, pointing at something she couldn’t see before grabbing Atlas and swimming into the distance.
Morgan followed, glad to see the rest of the team doing the same. Oxygen became thin, her lungs tight with the need to inhale. Ryder was ahead of her, struggling to find an even stroke. In front of them, she finally spotted what Draven had seen…another tunnel. She hesitated for a moment, then headed for the surface. She closed her fingers into a fist, her black blade forming in an instant, and she hacked away the vegetation.
She forced her arms through, then pulled herself up, gasping for air as her head broke the surface. A hand gripped her wrist, and she glanced up to see Ward helping her keep her head above water.
“We need to move. It won’t be long before those creatures finish their meal and come searching for more. Follow me.” She flung her hair out of her face, took a deep breath and slipped under the surface again.
She swam after the others, pleased when Ward splashed into the water behind her.
Less pleased when Katar and his men plunged in after him.
The water began churning beneath them, the natives growing restless, sensing the disturbance in the water. Even now, a few of them pulled themselves awkwardly toward the surface, seeking new prey.
As she approached the tunnel, she saw Draven waiting for her. When she came within touching distance, he clasped his hand around hers and tugged her after him into the tunnel. Light began to filter through the water, and Morgan nearly sagged in relief.
Topside.
As they surfaced, the guys were waiting, along with Loki, who danced around their feet at the sight of her. She was so weak she clung to Draven, glad for his support. “Thank you. Again.”
“Of course.”
Draven ducked away from her praise, pushing her toward the others, and she made a mental note to ask what was wrong when they had a second alone. Kincade and Ascher grabbed her wrists and hauled her out. Ryder did the same for Draven. Morgan scooped up Loki and leaned against both guys, grateful for their warmth, the air making her realize how dangerously low her temperature had dropped. To her surprise, the phoenix shifted along her back, and her dripping clothes were dried in seconds.
She twisted her shoulder to find a comfortable spot, and Kincade caught her shirt, then tugged the back of her collar down. She peered over her s
houlder at the carving. Instead of angry, scabby red lines, the welt appeared to be—
“It’s fading.”
The question was—would it fade before Katar followed through on his threat to kill her?
“But why?” Ascher brushed his fingers over the skin next to the mark, then tugged her shirt back into place. “The other marks have never faded.”
“The sigil is a spell, which her natural resistance to magic is forcing out.” Kincade reluctantly released her and stepped back. “The other marks are runes, which are used to enhance magic.”
Ward emerged from the water next, dragging himself out of the hole and staggering to his feet. Katar popped out seconds later, resembling to a drowned rat.
“Get me out of here.” He thrust out his hand demandingly.
When no one moved, his brows lowered and he wiggled out of the opening on his own. His three goons didn’t wait for him to exit completely, pushing and shoving their way into the small opening, elbowing each other as they clawed themselves out.
“We made it.” Katar was on his hands and knees, staring into a connecting cavern. “The gates of Tartarus.”
“You son of a bitch.” Atlas was lounging against the cave wall one second, the next, he was across the room, grabbing Katar by the throat and hefting the bastard to his toes. “Those were my men down there, men you led to their death. Whatever the hell that’s powering this place animated and brought them back. They’ll never rest in peace—because of you!”
Pressure tightened on Morgan’s throat, cutting off her air. Loki frantically licked her face, and she shoved the wiggling pup at Ascher. She clutched her throat to ease the pressure, sucking in a wheezing breath when Kincade tipped her face up to study the problem. She slashed her hand back and forth in front of her throat, and his face hardened.
He whirled and charged across the room, plowing into both Atlas and Katar, sending the lot of them crashing to the floor. Morgan greedily sucked in a deep breath of much-needed oxygen.
“You almost killed her!”
Morgan darted away from Ascher and grabbed Kincade’s shoulder before he could go after Atlas. Only when she was sure he had himself under control, did she kneel next to Atlas.
He didn’t bother picking himself up off the floor, refusing to look at her.
“I’m sorry.” She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to see her friends literally rise from their graves, rotting and decayed, and trying to kill her.
He gave a bitter laugh, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. “I think that’s my line.”
Dread grabbed her by the throat at the wild helplessness in his eyes, and she feared something inside him would shatter beyond repair if she couldn’t bring him back from the edge. “Remember what you said when we first entered the tunnels…don’t believe what you see. This place was created to use our greatest fears against us. Those people weren’t your men.”
His anguished eyes finally lifted to meet hers, sanity slowly returning to them when he nodded. He lifted a hand to her bruised throat, then stopped before touching her. “I didn’t think.”
“Part of you remembered we were connected, otherwise, you would’ve killed the bastard without hesitation. You might not trust yourself, but I trust you with my life.” He was frazzled, coming apart at the seams, his cool veneer cracking. The small glimpse of his true self made her heart ache.
She didn’t want him to revert back to his old standoffish, pigheaded, superior ways.
She craved the closeness growing between them.
It was official—she was a bitch for enjoying his misery.
She stood and offered him her hand, feeling like her soul was fracturing, knowing she was going to miss seeing this vulnerable side of him when they found the way to fix him. “What do you say we finish this? Let’s go knock on the gates of hell and see if we can find a cure.”
Chapter Twenty-three
The gate to Tartarus was not what she expected.
It wasn’t a gate at all.
Once they entered the cavern, they discovered it wasn’t a cave, but more like a temple. The walls were of warm, golden-brown stone, highlighted by torches that ignited the second they entered. Pillars were placed around the room, artistically carved in a level of detail no human could duplicate. No dust or dirt lingered anywhere. It didn’t dare. Glyphs covered the walls, stories full of warning and foreboding.
The gist of the words—run now, and don’t look back.
Her men were taking in the layout of the room, searching for possible exits and traps, while Loki thought it was a game to chase after each of them, barking and growling as he clamped his teeth on their pant legs and shook, tugging with all his might.
At least one of the men was within touching distance of her at all times, the men rotating out so it wouldn’t be obvious.
The guards were flocked around Katar. While one was casing the place, the other two took their jobs a bit more seriously and were keeping an eye on the guys, seeing them as the biggest threat.
They always underestimated the girls.
Too bad now wasn’t a good time to prove her point.
But if she made one wrong move, her men would pay for it, quite possibly with their lives.
Ward stood at her side, studying the walls, and spoke under his breath. “There will be side effects when you enter Tartarus. The most obvious is with your pedigree—you could end up being trapped there forever, or even killed.”
Morgan stiffened, not at the not-so-veiled warning, but the way he hinted about the truth of her heritage. “Are you telling me not to go?”
He turned and looked at her curiously. “Would you listen to me if I gave you that advice?”
“No.” She didn’t even hesitate. She had no choice, not with Atlas and the very realm at stake. She eyed the crude collar around his neck. “Don’t move.”
He stilled, instantly on alert.
She carefully lifted her hand and gently placed a single finger against the metal, but Ward flinched like she had placed a knife against his balls. His skin was charred black where the metal touched it, telling her that he repeatedly kept reaching for his magic, searching for a weakness.
She would give him one.
She closed her eyes and felt the metal shift and twist slightly, the changes so subtle they would be almost invisible. She dropped her hand, and began to study the wall as if nothing had happened.
“What did you do?”
Morgan shrugged. “I’m giving you a chance. Use it wisely.”
His expression said he didn’t believe her, but a sliver of hope entered his eyes, the silver flecks scattering before quickly reforming, and he swallowed hard. “You have a plan.”
“No, but you should be ready to make your move if you get the opportunity.”
“You are different from the other people of this realm.” Ward crouched, his hand following a particular passage on the wall, a baffled tone in his voice. “None of them would risk as much with so little to gain.”
She reached out and smacked him on the back of the head.
And was gratified to see him gape at her in shock.
“Never tell me my men are worthless again.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
She cringed at his formal tone, but didn’t rebuke him, not when he sounded so sincere.
“This is where you keep your end of the bargain.” Katar grabbed her arm roughly and shoved her up the three steps to the gate, his eyes full of crazy.
He actually believed he was about to achieve godhood.
She waved off the men when they moved to protect her. She’d come too far to lose them now over a few bruises. Katar dragged her to a stop when they reached the top. He was dirty, rumpled, injured, and incredibly dangerous in his volatile mood.
“Open it.” He shoved her forward, and she stumbled closer.
Magic resonated from the wall in front of her.
Not normal magic, but ancient and wild and barely contained.
/> Etched on the large wall was an outline of a three-foot circle inside a larger five-foot circle. Sigils lined both circles, thirty-two symbols were around the outer circle, while sixteen symbols marked the inner circle, and one last larger sigil filled the center.
But the assortment of sigils made absolutely no sense.
“This is where you triggered the fog.”
No wonder.
If this was a safe of some sort, the combinations would be infinite.
And the wrong combination would release a new plague.
“We were interrupted last time before the transfer of power could be complete. The damned defense mechanisms were activated.” He nodded toward the wall, almost giddy as he rocked back and forth on his heels, then scurried down the platform. “You need to finish the transfer.”
The crazy coot actually believed she could not only summon the power of the gods, but would then be able to simply hand it over to him. He was too smart to risk his own life by trying again, nor was he powerful enough to survive a second attack.
But he was more than willing to sacrifice her in his place.
“The transfer didn’t fail last time.” Atlas gave a snide laugh. “You were found lacking. Nothing is going to change that. Even if she manages to summon the power, it won’t accept you.”
Katar narrowed his eyes, yanked out his knife, and placed the blade against his own throat.
The laughter stopped, and her men tensed, none of them moving a single muscle as she felt a single bead of blood trickle down her neck.
“No tricks.” Katar turned toward her and lifted his cursed pendant. “Or I’ll have him kill the others.”
No truer words were ever spoken. If Ward lost control of his berserker rage, it would be a struggle for any of them to survive, despite being trained assassins. She’d tampered with the collar, tried to lower the voltage and give him some control, but she wasn’t sure it would be enough.
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