Underworld

by Greg Cox

  I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, he thought, that a pack of vampires has a whole bunch of skeletons in their closet.

  He looked at Selene with concern. After their intimacy earlier, he had hoped that she would be quicker to open to him when she was going through a rough time. He wanted to be there for her, especially at moments like this. Give her time, he told himself. This is all pretty new for her.

  The Rover came tearing around a bend and into a valley. “Whoa!” Michael said as an impressive stone structure came into view. Shaped like a monumental Celtic cross, with granite crossbeams the size of Neolithic monoliths, the breathtaking edifice had literally been carved into the face of a craggy hill. Cracked stone and faded marble mosaics hinted at centuries of neglect. A primitive wooden gate guarded the barren grounds in front of the giant cross. Michael didn’t spot any sort of lights either inside or outside the structure. The only illumination came from the Rover’s headlights, and the full moon waxing overhead.

  “Looks like a monastery,” he guessed.

  “It used to be,” Selene confirmed. “More like a prison now. Tanis has been hiding here since Viktor’s decree. We may be the first people he’s seen in centuries.”

  The blonde was Olga. The brunette was Grushenka.

  Or perhaps it was the other way around.

  Happily smothered between the two sumptuous female vampires, Andreas Tanis wasn’t worried about keeping the women’s names straight. He had more important matters to occupy him right now, such as their lush breasts, smooth thighs, and delectable rumps. Enmeshed in a tangle of naked flesh, he barely knew what to grope or suckle first.

  Choices, choices…

  The monastery’s capacious wine cellar had been transformed into an opulent love nest. Faded mosaics looked down on a sprawling bed liberally strewn with expensive sheets and cushions. A profusion of candles cast flickering shadows over the threesome cavorting on the bed. Elegant tapestries were draped over the venerable stone walls. Corinthian columns supported the vaulted ceiling. Antique furniture had replaced the absent wine racks. Bookshelves sagged beneath the weight of numerous dusty tomes. Bartók’s String Quartet No. 1 played softly over a concealed sound system. Discarded clothing littered the floor. Life-size marble statues of departed saints occupied recessed nooks in the far corners of the cellar. Their sculpted eyes gazed voyeuristically at the orgy taking place only a few yards away.

  Kneeling upon the bed, Tanis was sandwiched between his avid lovers. The brunette (Grushenka?) pressed her bare breasts against his back, her moist lips cool against his throat, while he embraced the blonde in front of him. He fondled the blonde’s succulent ass with both hands, even as the brunette reached around him to toy with the other woman’s left breast. Busy fingers teased the straining nipple. The blonde arched her back in delight.

  Blood flowed between them in a continuous three-way circuit. The brunette drank from Tanis’s neck, while he lapped at the pulsing throat of the blonde, who fed in turn from the brunette’s left wrist. Ecstatic groans and whimpers mixed with wet, sucking noises. Tanis gulped down the blonde’s cold blood with abandon, relishing the salty taste of the delicious nectar. His tongue swirled the plasma around the inside of his mouth. For all he knew, it might very well be his own blood, returning to him via the throbbing veins of the two vampire women. His eyes eagerly devoured the sight of the blond beauty lustily sucking on the brunette’s arm. Her wanton desire inflamed his own.

  Drink your fill! he silently urged her. There’s enough for all!

  Gasping in pleasure, Tanis withdrew his fangs from the blonde’s neck. He savored the sensation of the brunette nuzzling his neck, her insistent tongue digging into the open bite, even as the blonde’s clever hands slowly stroked his engorged cock. His face was flushed with borrowed blood. His luminous blue eyes were dreamy and unfocused, like a drug addict’s. He took a deep breath, inhaling the pungent aroma of blood and sex. His senses were awash in sybaritic excess. Nothing existed anymore except the banquet of nubile flesh enveloping him on all sides. His entire world had been distilled down into the naked limbs wrapped around him and the hungry mouths swallowing him whole.

  He licked his lips, then dived back down for more, this time sinking his teeth into the blonde’s upturned breast.

  Selene drove the Land Rover up to the locked wooden gate. Aside from the snow, the former monastery looked much as she remembered. “Take the wheel,” she instructed Michael as she handed him one of her Berettas. She kept the other pistol for herself as she hopped out of the SUV. Multiple rounds of silver ammunition had done little to deter Marcus before, but she still felt better with a gun in her hand.

  Besides, it was always possible that Tanis bore a grudge.

  A rusty padlock sealed the gate. Selene crushed the lock in her fist, then pushed the massive oak doors open. Her lithe figure was silhouetted by the Rover’s headlights as she marched through the gate, carrying the gun. Michael slowly followed her in the SUV, its wheels rolling over the bumpy terrain. The Rover’s high beams lit the way before her.

  The monastery grounds were a frozen wasteland. Brown weeds and granite outcroppings sprouted from the rocky soil. A fresh layer of snow blanketed the ground and boulders. No footprints had soiled the pristine whiteness. In theory, no one besides Tanis had walked these grounds for generations. Selene imagined he would be greatly surprised to receive visitors after all these years. I wonder, what’s he been doing to pass the time?

  She listened carefully for the telltale rustle of Marcus’s wings, but detected no trace of the mutated Elder’s presence. BEWARE OF DOGS read a faded metal sign in Russian posted to one of the gateposts, yet no indignant barks or growls greeted her arrival. All she heard was the wind whistling through the dying weeds. The desolate courtyard was as quiet as a graveyard

  Stepping toward the monastery itself, she failed to notice the electric eye beam in her path.

  Beep!

  The strident alarm jolted Tanis from his delirious rapture beneath Olga and Grushenka. A supple breast slipped from his mouth as he lifted his head in alarm. The mood abruptly broken, he shoved his lovers aside. The blonde yelped as she tumbled off the bed onto the cold stone floor. “Wait!” the brunette protested. Fresh blood was smeared all over her pouty lips. “Come back!”

  He ignored his lovers’ cries. Fear instantly snuffed out his ardor. Who is it? he fretted anxiously. Has the coven learned of my recent illicit activities? He shuddered at the thought. Or have the damn lycans betrayed me after all?

  Snatching up a brocaded silk dressing gown from the floor, he hurried over to the security monitor on the southern wall. The mounted video screen clashed sharply with the cellar’s antique furnishings. He silenced the alarm with the push of a button, then stared at the monitor. His eyes widened as, to his dismay, he immediately recognized the silhouetted figure walking ahead of a slow-moving vehicle.

  “Shit!”

  She faced the mammoth stone cross, which loomed impressively before her. Thankfully, the idea that vampires were repelled by crosses was nothing but a foolish mortal myth, as was the notion that they required an invitation to enter another’s domicile. What nonsense, she thought as she approached a heavy wooden door built into the base of the cross. She didn’t intend to ask for Tanis’s permission.

  Another padlock guarded the door. She reached for the lock, only to be interrupted by a faint metallic rumbling whose origin she could not immediately place. Her muscles tensed beneath the skintight leather and she raised the Beretta. Senses on edge, she turned around to look behind her…as a trapdoor suddenly opened beneath her feet.

  Gravity seized her and she plummeted at least sixty feet onto a hard stone floor. A mortal would have broken a limb or two, but Selene managed to land more or less nimbly, ending up in a squatting position upon the floor. The trapdoor snapped shut above her, stranding her in some sort of subterranean catacomb beneath the monastery. Flickers of candlelight permeated the tunnel from deeper within the undergr
ound chambers.

  Tricky, she thought with grudging admiration. Tanis had clearly not been idle during his long confinement. Picking herself up, she looked around. The trapdoor was a long, steep climb above her; she could barely see the top of the shaft. A dead end was at her back. The best way out seemed to be straight ahead.

  An ominous growl sent her adrenaline racing. She knew a werewolf when she heard one. The growling grew louder as it hurried toward her. She reached for her gun, but…

  “Selene!”

  Michael couldn’t believe his eyes. One second she was standing in the glow of his headlights, the next she dropped completely out of sight. Shit!

  He slammed on the brakes and threw the car into park. To his dismay, the Rover’s high beams showed him Selene’s pistol lying on the ground, only inches from where she had been standing only heartbeats before. It must have missed falling through the trapdoor, he realized. Not only was Selene missing, she was unarmed.

  I have to find her! Michael thought. He gripped his own pistol and turned toward the door…just as an enormous gray werewolf came lunging from a secret passage beneath a nearby boulder. A forged metal harness partially concealed the monster’s bestial face, but there was no mistaking its bloodthirsty intentions. The beast slammed into the car with so much force that it smashed in the driver’s door and caused the entire SUV to bounce up off its wheels. The seismic impact sent Michael flying across the front seats and crashing headfirst out the passenger’s-side window. Safety glass shattered against his skull, and the pistol slipped from his fingers, as he was catapulted out of the car and down a rocky slope.

  He tumbled out of control.

  Damn! Selene thought as she realized the Beretta was missing.

  Pounding footsteps filled the death trap as a massive werewolf charged at her from around a bend in the tunnel. The creature came at her so fast that she had no time to defend herself before the werewolf rammed her into the damp limestone wall behind her. Historic masonry cracked from the force of the collision. The beast’s hot breath blasted her face, and its bloodthirsty roar thundered in her ears, as it bared its fangs and opened its jaws wide. Foam dripped from its rubbery black lips in anticipation of the vampire’s raw flesh.

  Selene didn’t give it a chance. In one fluid motion, she drew a silver-bladed hunting knife from her ankle sheath. Aiming for a gap in the werewolf’s steel harness, she drove the blade into its skull all the way up to its hilt. Bright arterial blood sprayed the crumbling wall behind her.

  That’s better, she thought coolly. The werewolf collapsed into a lifeless heap at her feet. In death, the beast reverted to its human form. She regarded the carcass with satisfaction. Much may have changed in her life over the last few nights, but if there was one thing she still knew for certain, it was how to kill lycans. Nice to know I haven’t lost my touch.

  Looking more closely, she saw that the lycan’s metal harness and collar were attached to an unbreakable titanium chain leading deeper into the catacombs. A werewolf chained up like a guard dog? Selene recalled the BEWARE OF DOGS sign she had glimpsed up above, but was unamused by Tanis’s apparent sense of humor. Then she realized the sign had referred to dogs.

  Plural.

  Another roar echoed through the tunnels.

  Tumbling pell-mell down the slope, Michael started transforming before he even reached the bottom of the incline. Rocks and branches assaulted his skin as it took on an iridescent sheen. His eyes turned jet-black. His toes and fingers turned into claws.

  It was as an inhuman hybrid that he jumped to his feet once he finally rolled to a stop. He cast aside his constricting winter jacket and leaped back up the slope. The hood of the Land Rover crumpled beneath his weight as he bounded over the SUV and into the werewolf on the other side of the car. The other monster yelped in surprise as he slammed the creature down onto the frosty ground. Michael barely recognized the feral rage fueling his attack. Instinct took over as he surrendered to a primal compulsion to rend and kill. He growled like an animal.

  But the werewolf fought back with lightning reflexes. A savage claw smacked into Michael’s side, throwing him off his foe. He crashed against the side of the Land Rover, denting the car’s back panel, before hitting the ground hard. Pain exploded inside his skull, causing spots to appear before his eyes. His whole head was ringing.

  He shook off the blow. A clattering noise attracted his notice, and he saw that a steel chain connected the werewolf’s harness to the secret exit from which the monster had emerged. The heavy links rattled along the ground beside him.

  Seizing the opportunity, Michael grabbed the chain with both hands. He pulled it taut, yanking the werewolf by the neck. It growled angrily and snapped at the chain, but its fangs didn’t even scratch the titanium links. Hold on, Fido! Michael thought. You’re going for a ride! Calling upon his hybrid strength, he braced himself against the ground and swung the howling werewolf around by the chain like a giant hammer throw. The beast’s paws left the earth as it was flung into the Land Rover’s back driver’s-side window. The glass imploded with a tremendous crash. The stunned werewolf dropped to the ground. A pitiful whine emerged from its muzzle.

  Michael allowed the monster no time to recover. He dropped the chain and pounced on the fallen beast. The werewolf squealed in pain as Michael took hold of the creature’s jaws and forcefully wrenched them apart. Meat and gristle tore loudly as, tugging with all his strength, Michael ripped the werewolf’s jaw off. Blood gushed from the monster’s mutilated face, pooling atop the frozen ground. Violent convulsions rocked the beast’s shaggy body as its limbs slashed wildly at the side of the SUV. Then, with a final spasm, it stopped moving. Bristling black fur retracted into naked human skin as the werewolf transformed into a dead human body.

  About time, Michael thought. He stared at the lycan corpse in disbelief. Despite his transformation, part of him still couldn’t believe that he had killed a full-grown werewolf with his bare hands. He glanced down at the unattached jaw in his grip. The lycan’s tongue was still twitching. A gory froth spilled onto the snow.

  He hurled the jaw away in disgust, then checked out the hidden passageway by the boulder. I still need to find Selene, he reminded himself. Remaining in hybrid form, he saw that the dead lycan’s chain stretched from a second trapdoor leading below the grounds of the monastery. He rushed toward the unlit shaft without hesitation.

  Hang on, Selene! I’m coming!

  The second roar offered Selene only an instant’s warning before another chained werewolf came springing at her. It ran toward her on all fours, closing in fast. Its musky odor filled the narrow catacomb.

  Fortunately, an instant’s warning was all she needed. With the grace of an acrobat, she leaned back and plucked her hunting knife from the dead lycan’s skull. Its brains leaked out onto the floor stones as she spun around and expertly twirled the blade in her hand before launching it at the charging werewolf with perfect aim. The knife sliced through the air, missing the beast’s steel harness and penetrating deep into a moonstruck cobalt eye.

  The beast was dead before it even knew it had been hit. Momentum alone carried the lunging carcass down the tunnel before it slid to a stop only inches short of Selene’s boots. The dead animal morphed into a human corpse. She knelt down and quickly retrieved her blade.

  How many of these “watchdogs” does Tanis have? she wondered. And what’s happening with Michael? She hoped that he was still safely aboveground, but suspected that he was already searching for her. He’s not very good at staying put.

  Knife in hand, she advanced cautiously down the tunnel, heading for the flickering lights up ahead. Her patience with Tanis’s snares had long since evaporated.

  I wouldn’t want to be him when I catch up with him.

  Michael dropped through the trapdoor into the tunnel below. He found himself in a murky catacomb, lit only by the moonlight coming through the open trap. The werewolf’s chain stretched away into the darkness, leading to some hidden lair d
eep beneath the monastery.

  What the fuck? he thought. There was much he still didn’t know about the secret world of the immortals, but he knew that a chained werewolf guarding an exiled vampire was not exactly kosher. What was that lycan doing here anyway? Selene hadn’t said anything about werewolves. Then again, she probably wasn’t expecting that trapdoor either.

  His hybrid eyes quickly adjusted to the dim lighting. Nails scraped against the floor up ahead and he sensed something coming toward him from around a bend in the tunnel.

  “Selene?”

  A shadow appeared on the wall ahead, just beyond the bend. The shadow of a werewolf.

  Oh, hell, Michael thought. He dropped into a defensive stance, raising his claws before him. His lips peeled back from his fangs.

  A bestial hiss disturbed the silence.

  It took Michael a second to realize that the hiss was coming from him.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Michael?

  Selene thought she heard his voice coming from one of the adjacent tunnels. She rushed forward…just as the tunnel tilted sharply downward. Taken by surprise, she slid feetfirst down the steep incline. Musty air, rank with the scent of lycan shit and piss, blew against her face as she sped down the slide on her back, finally landing on her feet in a cavern far below the monastery. Straw crackled beneath the soles of her boots.

  Where was she now? Looking around, she saw that the slide had deposited her in a circular chamber with several sloping entrances like the one she had just stumbled onto. Titanium chains, radiating from a central anchor, led up various of the tunnels. Selene counted four chains, which left at least two chained werewolves unaccounted for. She kept her silver blade ready.

  This must be the lycans’ lair, she realized. The fetid stench of the beasts was even stronger here than in the tunnels. Torches mounted in the walls allowed her to see more than she would have liked of the lycan’s squalid den. Piles of bones, many of them recognizably human, were scattered around the lair. Yellowed femurs, humeri, and tibiae had been cracked open, the better to extract the tasty marrow inside. Gobbets of raw meat still clung to a fractured skull and rib cage, implying that the victims had been consumed fairly recently. All the bones bore evidence of having been thoroughly gnawed. Selene could only hope that the unfortunate humans had not been eaten alive. What the devil have you been up to, Tanis?