Ibenus (Valducan series) (33 page)

What a weird power,
she thought.

She eyed the snarling bronze wolf heads jutting from the holster beneath his arm. The holy revolver, while impressive, wasn't silenced. Victoria only hoped she wasn't beside him when he fired it down here. By contrast, the blocky machinegun he carried slung from his other shoulder sported a comically huge suppressor.

"Careful at the bottom," Matt warned as Luiza emerged from the ceiling.

"Thank you," she replied, a musical tone to her voice. She hopped down and walked over to them, brushing her hands together. She wore her katana along her back, beneath the black pack, its metal handle nearly flush with her head.

Metal grated above, followed by a muted
clang
. "We're all in," Malcolm said.

Victoria ran her fingers along Ibenus' smooth handle as she waited for the knights to come down. How she wished Allan could have been here, given her a kiss for luck. Not that he would have. They video-chatted nightly, but there was still that distance, and more than just the miles between them. He didn't fully trust her. She didn't blame him. But he believed in her, and that's what she needed.

Now she was down here, with five knights who didn't trust her, two who hated her, one murdering bastard lurking around and, of course, the monsters. In the nine days since Allan's maiming she'd had the dreams he'd spoken of. Her in some Arabian landscape, creatures emerging from the sands. She wanted to kill them, sure. But more than that, more than anything, she wanted TommyD.

Standing orders were to take him alive if they found him. Squeeze him until they recovered Umatri and the footage he'd taken. She ground her teeth at the thought of that awful video he'd posted that morning. The image of Gerhard's death, the blatant fucking lies.
Fucking bastard.
He still hadn't communicated with her. But the fact he hadn't named the Order and everything else meant that he was still honoring her request. Didn't it?

Malcolm and Matt might posture, making their threats and claims of what they'd do to him, but TommyD was hers. He was going to see her face, know what he did. Ibenus would taste his blood. There would be more. Oh she had plans. But first…

"All right," Malcolm said as he followed Orlovski down into the passage. "Let's get to it."

First I need the Order to trust me
.

They followed the hall single file, Malcolm in front, Luiza, the second Team Leader, on the rear. Victoria was in the middle, between Orlovski and Chaya. The passage was almost coffin-shaped—narrow at the floor, subtly widening until eye-level, then it quickly came together with three tapered steps, forming a kind of arch. Victoria could easily have pressed her palm flat against the ceiling. After thirty or so feet, it turned. A rusty wrought iron gate, its top crowned with spikes, stood open. A pair of chipped holes marred the wall where its latch or lock had once been. They continued on, giving the ancient relic no more than a passing glance.

There was no smell, no sounds but their boot steps and shifting gear. The passage opened into a long vaulted chamber. Faint lines across the stone floor showed it had been swept. And a colorful array of empty glass candle holders and various trinkets formed a semicircle before a skillfully painted mural depicting a Virgin Mary with a bearded dwarf suckling at her disproportionately large breasts. Several cataphile maps referred to this as
La Cathédrale de la Vierge Profane
.

Chaya gave the shrine a non-committal grunt as she passed it.

"At least it's not a mime," Orlovski quipped.

Taking the eastern exit from the cathedral, they followed the next tunnel twenty yards past a pair of rounded chambers to where it ended at a long stairway, hewn from the solid stone.

Matt checked the compass, shook his head, and they headed down.

The cool air became heavier as they descended. Victoria could smell the stale moisture before the first of their lights reflected off the smooth surface of the flooded passage. The water was the creamy tan of parchment, so cloudy that their lights only penetrated it by millimeters. Crimson light played off wall and ceiling, extending further and further into the darkness. Narrow ledges ran either side, about a foot above the water.

"How far does it go?" Chaya asked.

"Fifty meters," Victoria said, recalling the map.

"Taras, you're on point," Malcolm said.

Drawing his kukri, Orlovski squeezed his way to the front and stepped onto the water. The surface bent beneath his feet, sending distorted reflections down the tunnel.

Once he had made it a few feet, the rest of them moved forward, straddling the flooded passage. The low ceiling required even Victoria to stoop, head down, legs wide as she shuffled along, her incremental progress measureable in inches. Her pack scraped along the ceiling. The position left her feeling vulnerable, exposed above the unseen depths. She imagined the pale, black-eyed doll's face rising out from the murk beneath her. What would she do it if one did?
Kill it
, she decided.

Movement caught her eye. Adrenaline shot up her spine and down to her fingers. Her headlamp zeroed in on an unfurled condom lazily bobbing in the milky water like a dead jellyfish. Victoria released a breath. Her surging pulse slowed and she continued onward. Her hips ached from the awkward movement but she pushed through it. No way was she going to complain or, God forbid, fall.

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 wanted 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.