by Keri Arthur
“Oh, joy.”
He glanced at me. “Be ready—the scent of darkness is stronger down there, too.”
“Double joy.”
A smile ghosted his lips but didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Most normal women would be running right now—you know that, don’t you?”
“I have Mo as a grandmother. I think it’s safe to say I’ve never been normal.”
“I can see that.” He paused. “I like it.”
My eyebrows rose even as warmth pulsed through me. “Is this your version of ‘we might get dead, so I might have an admission’ thing?”
“Could be. Let’s go.”
He moved forward without a backward glance. I followed close, Nex and Vita at the ready, their glow increasing as we cautiously moved into the basement’s bowels. Our steps echoed on the metal steps and, just for a second, something stirred in the ink beyond Hecate’s light. I faltered, my pulse tripping into a higher gear and fear sitting like a thick lump of ice in my stomach. There was something here. Something beyond the smell of death. Something that spoke of evil.
The deeper we moved into the basement, the more certain I became that there was far worse here than the mere scent of death and decay—although it was now so ripe and raw it was almost liquid. I tried breathing through my mouth but it didn’t help. The putridity clawed at the back of my throat, clung to my clothes, and clogged my pores.
As we neared the bottom steps, a faint, almost sickly glow appeared—spell strings. They not only lined either side of the stairs but also washed across the bottom step and then ran across the floor, walls and ceiling, entirely encasing the basement area.
Were they keeping something in? Or something out?
I narrowed my gaze; the exterior strings were some sort of containment barrier and it was aimed inward, suggesting that part of the spell was designed to prevent something escaping. If it was the smell, then it was beginning to fail. I had no idea what the greater portion of the spell was designed to do. It was, however, far more complicated than the spell the dark elf had unleashed at the King’s Tower.
“Luc—”
“I see it.” He paused on the second bottom step and raised Hecate. “Radiate.”
She immediately did so. Her light exploded, casting bloody fingers through the darkness, peeling it back and revealing the basement’s secret.
It was filled with bones and bodies.
Hundreds and hundreds of them.
Eight
Oh Tris, what have you done? What the hell have you gotten involved in?
The words tore through me but remained locked inside. I’d been expecting death, but this … this was a slaughter yard. I shuddered, swallowing heavily, staring in disbelief and utter horror at the broken remnants of humanity that were literally everywhere—hanging from ceiling struts, pinned to the walls, piled into white mounds on the floor. There were clothes, shoes, and other unrecognizable pieces of material, some of which still clung to small bits of their wearers. I clapped a hand across my mouth and nose, though I wasn’t sure whether it was meant to provide a physical barrier against the bile rising up my throat or a vain attempt to keep out the smell and horror.
The containment portion of the dark spell, I thought grimly, had to be the only reason this place hadn’t already been discovered. The pub next door should have been overwhelmed by the stench, even with all the factory’s windows boarded … The thought died as I spotted the one thing I didn’t want to see.
A red-and-green striped sweater.
“Oh fuck, no.”
The words were whispered and yet they echoed through the shadows as loudly as any shout. I stared at that sweater, sorrow and anger surging in equal amounts. The man I’d grown up with, the man I still loved as a friend, was a murderer. One who was undeniably working with the demons and the dark elves. There could be no dismissing it now. Not that doubt had ever really existed anywhere beyond my own fragile hopes that he couldn’t—wouldn’t—go to depths such as this.
Damn it, Tris, why?
“What?” Luc said.
I briefly closed my eyes, fighting the useless sting of tears, and then silently pointed.
“Oh.” He hesitated. “I’m so sorry.”
My gaze shot to his. “Why are you sorry?”
“You’ve lost a friendship you clearly valued, and under the vilest of circumstances. That’s never an easy situation to accept.”
There was such a depth of understanding in his eyes that I once again found myself blinking rapidly.
“No.” My gaze went back to the remnants of the woman’s body. “We need to find out who she was.”
“Yes, although I doubt there’ll be any form of identification left on her. Or, indeed, any of them.”
“She certainly wasn’t carrying a purse or anything when Tris picked her up last night.” I hesitated. “She looks torn apart. They all do.”
He nodded. Though his expression gave little away, there was an almost haunted look in his eyes. “I’ve seen this in one other place. I was hoping never to see it again. It’s a hecatomb.”
“And that is?”
He didn’t immediately answer, but a muscle in his jaw ticked, and turmoil radiated from him. Fighting the memories, I guessed. I lightly touched his arm, felt his muscles jump in response. “I’m sorry, you don’t have to answer. I can guess.”
He briefly placed his hand over mine and squeezed. Though the contact was not direct, thanks to the gloves we both wore, awareness surged. But it wasn’t sexual in nature; it was something far deeper and totally unexpected. Because, just for that moment, I was in his memories. I saw Hecate flaming and heard her scream. Felt his desperate determination against the hordes that were coming from all angles, tearing and biting and destroying. Saw a woman in a red dress at his feet, her blood flowing from deep wounds in her chest and her head, staining the cobblestones with her life …
“Thank you, but I’m fine. The question is a natural one; you just caught me a little off guard.”
His words broke the reel of images and I blinked, disorientated, as if somehow that connection had bled me of strength.
He noticed it, and though I doubted he guessed the true reason for it, there was a flash of sympathy—and perhaps even protectiveness—in his eyes. He lightly touched my arm, pressing heat into my skin. “I may be fine, but are you?”
I took a deep, somewhat shuddering breath. “Yes. Go on, please.”
His gaze swept me briefly, concern evident. But he didn’t voice his obvious doubts. “Traditionally, a hecatomb was a public arena where the Greeks sacrificed one hundred oxen to their gods. It was also used later for arenas in which human sacrifices were performed.”
“The Greeks had nothing to do with this.”
“No.” The smile that ghosted his lips held little warmth. “In this instance, a hecatomb is a place of exchange. A life given for a service or information received.”
“Between demon and human? Or is this depth of carnage a dark elf thing?”
“They are capable of it, although they generally only eat human flesh on special occasions.”
“Oh, that’s comforting.” My gaze swept the basement, and horror surged yet again. “That does suggest this atrocity is demon based.”
“If our suspicions are true—if the demons and the dark elves are working as one for their greater good—then that assumption is likely false. The sheer numbers involved here would also suggest the exchanges have been happening for far longer than we ever expected.”
“Doesn’t this just get better and better.” I pointed Nex at the faintly glowing threads hovering close to the bottom step. “Do we tempt that? Or do we just walk away?”
“The latter. Neither of us have the skills to contain this. I’ll call it in once we’re out in the fresh air.”
I turned around and quickly retreated, although I didn’t sheath my daggers until I’d reached the litter-covered rear yard. And just for a moment, everything hit, and I bent over, my body
shaking as I fought back tears and sucked in air.
Luc didn’t say anything. He just wrapped his big, warm arms around me and held me close. It was a closeness that wasn’t only physical but also, rather oddly, emotional. As if, in that one brief moment, we were one.
It was that connection that told me he wasn’t as immune to me as I’d feared.
Once the shakes had eased, I sniffed and pulled back. “Sorry. I guess the shock of it all just hit.”
“Unsurprising.” He tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ears, his touch tender. “I’ve seen men and women with years’ of fighting experience fall apart far quicker after such a discovery. You did well to hold it together for as long as you did.”
A smile touched my lips. “I’m thinking you lie, but I nevertheless appreciate it.”
He nodded and eyed the gap in the fence I’d crawled through. “We’ll go back over the other fence. There’s no way I’m going to fit through that; I’m rather surprised you did.”
“At any other time, I’d take umbrage at such a statement, but it seems petty in the face of what lies below us.”
“It was not meant as an insult.”
“Then it’s the strangest compliment I’ve ever heard.” I hesitated, eyeing the door into the factory. “Should we do something to block that and prevent others from entering?”
“I’ll disguise it. You go check the coast is clear so that we can get out of here without raising suspicions.”
I nodded, and as I walked away, his power surged. Though I wondered how he intended to conceal it, I wasn’t curious enough to go back and see. The quicker we got away from this place, the better.
I clambered up the fence to check no one was near or watching, then jumped down on the other side and pulled my phone out to call Mo.
“Where’s Tris?” I asked the moment she answered.
“Buggered if I know.” Her tone was annoyed.
“You’ve lost him?” I couldn’t help the surprise in my voice.
“Yes, because he went to the damn station and caught a train.”
“Why didn’t you follow it?”
“Because I wasn’t sure which damn one he was on.” She blew out an aggrieved breath. “What was at the factory?”
“According to Luc, what is known as a hecatomb.”
“Well, fuck.”
“Yeah. It was horrible. The first woman Tris picked up last night was there.”
“Meaning he must have collected something in return for her sacrifice.”
“And that something is probably being taken to London or wherever else he’s headed.”
“Unless he gave it to the brunette he met in the pub last night.”
“Possibly.” I glanced around at the sound of approaching steps. “You’re clear, Luc.”
He immediately climbed over, and a whole lot more elegantly than me. “Mo?”
I nodded and flicked over to speakerphone. He caught my elbow and escorted me across the road.
“Where are you headed now?” Mo asked.
“If Tris is currently on a train, it gives us the perfect opportunity to search his room. You?”
“Barney got a hit on the brunette. We’re going over to have a chat with her.”
“She’s a local?”
“No. Visitor from London, staying at The Grand.”
Which is how Barney found her so quickly—his daughter was the manager there. “Do we know anything about her?”
“Not at this stage.” She paused. “Barney just arrived. Talk later.”
She hung up. I shoved my phone back into my pocket. “Do you mind returning to Ainslyn straight away?”
“No, because it’s better to search Tris’s hotel room while there’s no danger of discovery. If we don’t find anything, we’ll come back and see if the guesthouse’s manager knows anything about the woman Tris brought here.”
I nodded and climbed onto the bike. “I take it you’ve called your people about the factory?”
“Yes, but we haven’t the power to deal with the erasure of a hecatomb. The job will fall to others.”
“What others?”
“Asking questions really is your natural state, isn’t it?”
“And answering them really should become yours.”
He chuckled softly. “I’m talking about the Preternatural Division of the National Crime Agency, who have some of the strongest witches on their books as advisors. We’ve worked with them for many a year now.”
I blinked. “I had no idea such a unit even existed.”
“Few do—and that’s just the way they like it. Ready?”
“Yes.” I lightly gripped his jacket, taking comfort in his closeness, in the warm press of my thighs against his. After the horror we’d just left, I was grateful to have someone to lean on, however briefly. However much he was still a stranger.
We cruised back to Ainslyn. Once we’d parked and the helmets and gloves had been stored, Luc said. “What’s his room number?”
“Two-ten.”
“Once we’re invisible, we’ll grab a master key, then make our way up there.”
He held out his hand. I twined my fingers through his, and once again the contact was fierce—electric. And this time, he definitely felt it. Awareness and desire burned—all too briefly—in his eyes.
But he didn’t say anything. He didn’t even acknowledge it. As we strode toward The Cherry Tree, the air once again shimmered, but faster this time, thanks no doubt to the fact we were in a public place. Just before the glitter entirely concealed us, a woman came out of the nearby sweet shop, and her mouth dropped open. Then we were gone and she blinked, looking around in some confusion.
Once in the hotel, Luc walked to the desk and, after sending the desk calendar crashing to the floor, waited for the lone receptionist to come out from behind the counter, then quickly leaned over, opened a drawer, and pulled a keycard out. We headed for the stairs.
I glanced around to make sure no one was close. “How do you know that key will open the door?”
“A lot of smaller hotels keep a master key close by for guests who lock themselves out.”
“Yeah, but there’s no guarantee that’s it.”
He shrugged. “If it’s not, I’ll go back down and find it.”
“Meaning you’ve done this before.”
“Many a time.”
We reached the second floor, but he didn’t release my hand. He swiped the keycard through the lock and, when the door opened, flashed a warm smile. “See? Good things happen to those who believe.”
I snorted softly. “I think luck had more to do with it than belief.”
“Could be.” He ushered me inside, then closed the door and put the chain on. “Do you want to go through his bags? I’ll check the cupboards and drawers.”
I nodded and walked across the room to the carryall sitting on the foldout stand. I didn’t look at the bed. I didn’t want to remember the fun we’d had, even if that was where the doubts had first seeded.
I undid the bag’s top zip and carefully pulled clothes out. There wasn’t a whole lot—just a couple pairs of jeans, a few shirts, socks, and underpants—suggesting that despite him saying he didn’t know how long the job would take, he hadn’t intended staying too long. Delivering that woman to such a vile death obviously hadn’t initially been a part of his task here—not given he’d only done so after receiving orders from the man he’d met at McDonald’s. But that made it even more important we find and stop that man—and before he could give any more damn orders.
Luc began opening and closing drawers. “Anything?”
“Not really.” I stacked the clothes back and then checked the bag’s side pockets. There were a few coins and some used train tickets. “He’s been to both Carlisle and Bath via train, though.”
“Interesting. There’s a witch library in Bath.”
“And Carlisle?”
“Was the location of an heir until we got him out last week. What’s the date on th
e ticket?”
I quickly looked. “Seventeenth.”
“Meaning he might have been scouting the area. We got the heir out on the eighteenth.”
“Was it a direct heir?”
“From Rodella’s second marriage, yes.”
I shoved the tickets back into the side pocket, but as I was about to zip it up, I spotted a torn bit of white tucked in the far corner. I carefully pulled it out. On it was a partial phone number. I finished checking the rest of the pockets but didn’t find anything else.
I walked over to where Luc was sweeping a hand across the wardrobe’s top shelf. “Here, found this.”
He accepted the bit of paper and then grimaced. “Half a phone number is not of much use.”
“Where’s that belief you were speaking of earlier?” I asked. “It might not be useful now, but could come into its own later on.”
“Perhaps.” His somewhat amused expression suggested he doubted it. “There’s nothing here. Do you want to check the bathroom?”
I nodded and continued on. The bathroom contained little more than his toiletries. I unscrewed the cologne’s lid and tentatively took a sniff. It was aromatic and woody, and very definitely not the cardamom, bergamot, and lavender-based scent I’d now smelled a number of times. Which did at least provide a sliver of relief. Tris might have killed that woman, but he wasn’t yet closely involved with the attacks on me.
For now, anyway.
After plucking hair from his comb and wrapping it carefully in a tissue, I walked out. “Nothing there, either.”
He held out his hand. “Then it’s time to go.”
“Back to the guesthouse?”
He nodded and, as the shimmer crawled over the two of us again, said, “But I’ve a feeling we’ll not find much there, either.”
I frowned as we clattered down the stairs. “She would have had to check in.”
“I doubt she did so under her own name.”
“Given we don’t actually know her name, that’s not going to make much difference. On the plus side, we do have a photo.”
Which was blurry, but still gave us a starting point. Once he’d returned the keycard, we headed out to his motorcycle and journeyed to the guesthouse. The manager was less than helpful and had absolutely no reaction when I showed him the somewhat blurry photo. Either he was a damn good actor, or he really hadn’t seen her.