Crimson Veil

Chapter 18

While the building looked dark when we got there, we knew better. I glanced at the car clock. Six thirty-five. Not quite ninety minutes. While we had the plans, and we knew basically where we were going, the trick would be, first, to break into the building without setting off any alarms, and second, to find our way into the temple without alerting any guards. And there were bound to be guards. There was no doubt of that in any of our minds.

We parked in the lot across the street, and as we stepped out, Tanne slipped out of a nearby archway that led into the building there—it was some sort of wholesale distributor.

He held up a wand. “I brought yew, like you asked.”

“Are you sure you’re up for this?” I studied his face. He didn’t have to throw his lot in with ours. “This is going to be dangerous, you know.”

“I have lived with danger all my life. Remember what I do?” He grinned then. “Actually, I’m rather looking forward to a good showdown. I haven’t done much in the way of hunting since I’ve been in the States, and it’s time I got things organized and set up for the Clan to migrate. My sister, Silber, will be moving here soon.”

I nodded. He did seem more alert, more vibrant, than when we’d first met him, and I had a feeling he thrived on adventure. “Well, good. We don’t know if yew will affect Suvika, and hopefully we won’t have to find out. But just in case, I’m glad you brought the wand.”

Camille wanted to see it, of course, but I shook my head. “You two can ooo-and-ahh over magical tools all you want later. Right now, let’s get a move on. Every minute that slips by is a minute closer to the time when Lowestar is scheduled to perform the ritual. We’re at six forty-five, and that gives us a little over an hour. And we still have to brief Tanne, here, on our plans.”

As we ran them down for him, he listened carefully.

“The plans show a tunnel leading from the sewers up into the basement. Prepare yourself for a delightful stench.” Not for the first time, I was grateful that I didn’t have to breathe. Though some smells were strong enough to notice without bothering to inhale.

“I can’t wait for this. Not.” Camille grimaced as we headed for the manhole cover. “I just have no stomach for this kind of thing.”

“You can blast an enemy with death magic and blow their brains out. You can impale the Black Unicorn with his own horn. You can mix up potions using the damndest ingredients, but you can’t stomach a little stench?” I was teasing her, of course, to take the edge off the tension, but she just flashed me one of her “you have to be kidding” glares and I backed off. Sometimes jokes weren’t the ticket.

“Speaking of, I left the horn at home. It’s still recharging.” She flashed me another look, daring me to argue, but I wasn’t about to.

Smoky yanked the manhole cover off with two fingers. The dude was strong. He was big and strong, and I was damned glad he was on my side. Nothing like having an angry dragon breathing down your neck.

Time to establish marching order.

“I’m going first. Smoky—you’re up front right behind me. Then Vanzir, Delilah. Camille, and Morio. Tanne and Shade in the back, please.” As everyone lined up, I cautiously lowered myself into the manhole tunnel. The rungs of the ladder going down were steel rather than iron—which made good sense, considering the propensity for rust in damp quarters.

The sewer tunnel was brick or stone—it was hard to tell in the dark, and with only a flashlight hanging from my belt to shine light down, I wasn’t really taking a close look at the walls. The fit was fine for me, but I was glad I wasn’t Smoky—he managed it, but with his six-four frame, it was a snug squeeze.

As I scrambled down, I didn’t really expect to meet any problems along the way. It wasn’t like Underground Seattle, where creatures routinely made their homes, other than rats and cockroaches. I couldn’t see Lowestar worrying too much about sewer traffic, considering how dank and nasty it was.

The climb wasn’t terribly far, but when I reached the bottom, I realized that the sewer tunnel itself was only around five feet tall, and narrow. Very narrow shoulders lined the sides, while water and debris rushed through the channel in between them. Thank gods, we didn’t have far to go, because—if I didn’t have claustrophobia coming down here—I could easily see how fast I might develop it.

I hurried south, in the direction of the Farantino Building, grimacing as I gave up trying to balance on the thin, slick bricks forming the side ledges and just walked in the muck.

The smell was rank, it filtered into my nose, into my mouth, and I heard Smoky behind me let out a garbled sound as he bent over, trying to fit through the passage. He was bent double, and it occurred to me that—if anything did live down here and wanted a fight—we were in a shitload of trouble. At that moment I stepped in what seemed to be a steaming pile of crap, and I groaned at my unintentional pun.

The temperature was bad—it was like a muggy, clammy day, and I hurried ahead, not wanting the rest of them to be caught here. Breathing would become a problem if we were down here too long, and even though we were all resistant to so many FBH diseases and infections, that didn’t mean we couldn’t suffer from other issues brought on by the sheer amount of bacteria that must be roaming the water, walls, and air.

Camille’s voice echoed from behind. “Fuck… this is bad! Hurry up.”

“I’m pushing through,” I called back. “We don’t have far to go, but be careful. It’s slippery and nasty.” Though truth be told, if somebody started to fall to the side, they’d land against the wall before they landed on the ground. There really wasn’t anyplace to fall.

“This sewer tunnel isn’t used much anymore,” Vanzir said. “I had a long look at the plans. If it was, we’d be in a hell of a lot of hurt right now. This one is old and only a few buildings make use of it.”

“Small favors, huh?” I shuddered as I leaned out to brace myself against the wall and a swarm of roaches fluttered over my hand. Shaking them off, I tried not to shriek. “Roaches coming up—lots of them. Try not to touch the walls too much.”

“Any signs of viro-mortis slime?” Delilah’s question was a good one.

“Stop and I’ll look.” I pulled my flashlight off my belt and shone it toward the walls. A flurry of movement startled me—a murmuration of roaches? Not quite as pretty as starlings. Beneath the roaches, as I glanced along the tunnel, I could see layers of fat built up. Enough to make me gag. For once, I was grateful I couldn’t eat. And then, ahead to the left, yes—some green goo oozing along the wall.

“Affirmative on the viro-mortis slime. Be very careful about where you put your hands. I only see the green kind—which is the less aggressive type—but that doesn’t mean that there isn’t some indigo slime hanging out and that would be harder to see.”

I wondered how many sewer workers had been harmed by the stuff—it seldom appeared in areas without high ectoplasmic activity from the Netherworld, or from ghosts in general. But then again, we were near a ghost-ridden area of town, and the spiritual activity here was extremely high. So it was no surprise that viro-mortis slimes were showing up.

Delilah let out a garbled reply. She’d been on the receiving end of their attentions before. The slimes acted a lot like the Blob—growing to encompass the host onto whom they attached themselves, and then they set about devouring—or rather absorbing—the creature. The thought that maybe they’d take care of the cockroach problem soon ran through my head, but I shook it away. Random thoughts could be dangerous, especially when we needed to focus.

Another moment, though, brought me to a ladder heading up. The tunnel continued, but the plans had shown that the first ladder south of where we entered the tunnel should take us up to an old manhole that was there when the building was built. Michael Farantino had simply built over it, agreeing to give city workers access to the tunnel through the basement if need be. Apparently back then, the city planners had been willing to agree, probably for a good-size sum of money, no doubt.

Grateful, I stood up. Even I’d had to bend over in here, and my back groaned a little as I reached up and grabbed the rungs, swinging myself up and onto the ladder. Within another minute, I was at the top, cautiously listening for any sound that might be coming from the basement. Here was where we were taking a big risk—we had no clue if anybody might be on the other side. But given the ritual was set for tonight in the underground levels of the building, my guess was they wouldn’t be guarding a lone manhole cover in the basement.

Carefully, inch my inch, I eased the cover up and to the side, then peeked out. The basement was dark, and I heard no breath, no sound of movement. Relieved, I swung myself up and out of the dank tunnel.

Within minutes we were all standing there, albeit dirty, grimy, and reeking like overripe sardines. Except Smoky, that is. As usual, his duster was sparkling white, his clothes were clean, if a bit damp, and he smelled like his usual musky dragon self. I wanted to smack him. It wasn’t fair.

Camille let out a long sigh, staring at her boots—which were ruined. There was no way to save suede after that little walk through the muck. Delilah didn’t look too happy either. Neither did the others actually. On the bright side, being in a grumpy mood might just make us fight harder and better.

Nobody spoke—we didn’t want to chance giving ourselves away—but we already knew what we were going to do. The broom closet that led to the hidden levels was one floor up, not on the main floor but a subfloor. We headed up to level S-1, taking the stairs rather than the elevator. There was no telling if the elevators had hidden cameras in them, and now was not the time to find out.

Level S-1 had an employee break room and several conference rooms on it. And the maintenance room. But… there to the right of the janitor’s closet was a narrow door. And that was our goal.

It was locked, of course. I just hoped nobody else was running late and would catch us in the act. From everything we knew about rituals—and Camille and Morio had performed a lot of them—most large-scale operations required an extensive setup period. Which meant, we were hoping, that everybody who needed to be downstairs in the temple room was already there.

Tanne motioned us back. He leaned over and began whispering to the lock. Again the incantation sounded like a low trill as he persuaded the lock to release and open. Another moment, and a soft click sounded, and the door sprang ajar. He quietly pushed it all the way open, and we were looking into a small, square room. No stairs. No nothing.

But Morio motioned for me to move to the side, and he stepped into the room, said something—he, too, barely whispered the words—and the outline of a door appeared. There was a handle, but no obvious lock.

“I’m not sensing any traps.” Morio reached for the handle. “I’ll bet if there were any, he had to disarm them to make sure nobody who was supposed to be down there set one off by accident.”

That made sense. But I stopped him.

“Let me go first. And Smoky. You get back with Camille and start prepping whatever spells it is you guys prep.”

“We can encircle the group with protection, but that would mean we’d have to take time to regroup if we need to fight.” He glanced around at the others. “You all willing to go in without our force field?”

“Better to have you guys on the offense, rather than worry about a little defense.” Vanzir held up his sword. It was a wicked little number, and it was barbed. When it thrust into someone, the barbs slid in smoothly, then flared out at the push of a button, making the return damned nasty.

With a deep breath, I looked at Smoky. He nodded, and I opened the door.

We found ourselves staring at a steep, spiral stairway. It wasn’t metal—but simple, concrete, spiraling down a pale cream-colored passageway. Brightly lit, it wasn’t at all what you would think of in terms of a hidden passage leading to an underground temple. But then, Lowestar was a pretty classy daemon when it came to style. I doubted he’d want anything remotely gothic. No cobwebs, no dust, no doom-and-gloom stone walls dripping with slime and moisture.

But the trouble with concrete stairs in a stairwell? They’re going to echo, no matter what you do. Still, we did our best to silently make our descent. By what the plans had shown us, there were three flights leading down to the temple area. A level above was used for… well, we didn’t know what the rooms there were used for. But the temple itself was the bottom, and that was where we were headed.

We passed the doorway leading into the floor above the temple, and I paused to press my ear against the door. There were muffled sounds on the other side—not a comforting thought. But we didn’t have time to explore. We were already running near seven thirty. We had half an hour to stop Lowestar from waking up Suvika.

Could he even do it? The question hung in the back of my mind, but the fact was that we just didn’t know. And since we didn’t know, we had to go on the assumption that he probably could. Better to overestimate someone than underestimate their abilities.

And then, turning the bend in the stairwell, I found myself facing a door. It was metal, and had ornate designs etched into it. I stood back, motioning for Morio and Tanne to step down and take a look at it. After a moment, both shook their heads—they didn’t have a clue—and returned to their places in line.

So this was it. According to the blueprints, this door led directly into the temple. And once I opened it, we’d be out of the frying pan, into the fire. And I’d had enough of fire to last me a lifetime.

A soft swish accompanied the opening door. Ready to pounce on the first sign of trouble, Smoky and I took in our surroundings.

The temple was lush—ornate. Marble lined the floor, and the walls were also marble, likely a façade but still beautiful. Ivory with veins of gold, the gleaming stone shimmered in the light of what looked like a thousand candles. I quickly realized they were flameless—no chance of using them to burn up the silk and velvet curtains that lined sections of the walls.

Columns were evenly spaced, Corinthian in design, with coiling, curving metal vines creeping out from their sides. Lush plants—ivy and fern and trailing jasmine—hung from the metal scrollwork, and the air here was vibrant and perfumed, as intoxicating as the sewers had been nauseating.

Near the back of the spacious hall, a tall throne carved in marble sat, its seat lined with what looked to be velvet cushions in gold and brown. Marble benches lined the walls, and an offering font sat in front of the throne, next to a giant altar stone. On the stone, chained with silver chains, lay a woman. Blond hair streamed over her shoulders and she looked still relatively young.

“Were. She’s Were.” Delilah’s whisper met my ears and I nodded. She had to be our virgin. At least they wouldn’t have abused her, needing her virginity intact for the ritual.

Next to the throne stood another marble slab—this one upright. Again, silver chains restrained a muscled young man. He was obviously Fae, and his hair was long and as platinum as Marilyn Monroe’s had been. Only his was natural.

They said nothing. No screams, no pleas, no begging for release. By the expressions on their faces, it was a good bet they were doped up. Here and there, figures in long red robes scurried around, but there was no sign of Lowestar.

Behind the throne, though, was a marble statue. On a plinth that had to be seven feet tall in itself, the statue was life-sized—a very tall man, with streaming hair and wearing what looked like some sort of tunic and trousers.

Before we could be spotted, I motioned for us to move off to the side. We hid behind a nearby column, waiting. For once, we’d gotten in on time, rather than bursting in during the middle of the ritual.

A drumbeat caught my attention and I pulled back even farther, hoping we were all well out of sight, as the doors started to open. Into the room filed two rows of robed figures, all in crimson.

As they passed by, they didn’t seem to be aware of our intrusion, which could mean one of two things. We’d done well in hiding ourselves. Or they knew we were here and they were biding their time. Given the stench we were letting off, I decided that opting for the latter was safest and prepared myself for any sign they were going to attack.

It was then that I noticed something—or didn’t notice, as the case may be. The stench from the sewer had vanished. I couldn’t smell a thing—not even Smoky. Confused, I glanced around. Tanne was near me, and his eyes were closed and he was whispering something below his breath. Magic. He was working magic. And whatever he was doing had absorbed the odors we were giving off. I wanted to hug him, but that could come later.

As the last of the ritualists filed into the room, they took their place in a semicircle around the throne, behind the altar and font. Damn, they were blocking our view of the girl—we’d have to work quickly to avoid somebody stabbing her, or whatever they were planning on doing. But I wanted to wait until Lowestar was there. If we moved too quickly, he could escape and then we’d just have one more nasty enemy in the wild.

We didn’t have to wait long, though. As the drumbeat came to a halt, a door near the back of the hall opened and a figure dressed in brown and gold entered the room. He pushed his hood back, revealing that yes, it was Lowestar, with his closely shaved head and brilliant shining eyes. He was a handsome daemon, and that was part of his danger.

As he approached the throne, I tensed, motioning for the others to get ready. We had to make this surprise attack run like clockwork. I leaned forward, ready to take a running leap over the heads of the ritualists, when Lowestar raised an ornate gold baton.

“Rise now, from the depths of your slumber, oh mighty god of fortune!”

Wait—it wasn’t 8 P.M. yet! Frantically I looked around. They weren’t due to start for another ten minutes—but here Lowestar was already beginning the incantation to wake up Suvika.

Frantic now, I burst out of my hiding place, followed by the others. I went barreling directly toward the group and—as they turned in unison—started to sail over their heads, only to go thudding right into a force field.

I slid to the ground against the invisible wall, landing in a heap on the floor. As I did so, Lowestar laughed and resumed his incantation. His followers, however, turned and pushed back their own hoods. Fuck. They looked like businessmen—not daemons—but it was impossible to tell whether they were FBHs or not. We couldn’t just outright slaughter a bunch of humans, could we?

Smoky sent a blast of winter their way, the chill wind freezing against the ground, running below the force field to drive a blinding wall of snow toward them. The men seemed confused, at least most of them, but a couple broke away from the pack and moved to the front, their eyes now glowing.

“Daemons—at least the ones in front are!” Camille’s voice echoed through the hall.

At that moment, Morio managed to find his way around the force field, moving to the side. Ah, so it wasn’t all-inclusive. I raced to the other side and, sure enough, found myself in the fray. Vanzir was on my heels, and it looked like Morio and Camille were cooking up something. As they cast their spell, a purple bolt shot forth, striking the heart of the force field, and then—all hell broke loose.

“What the hell—” Delilah’s scream was cut off as thunder split the air and the marble statue behind the throne began to fracture, cracks racing through like windshield glass shattering after a cold snap.

Lowestar’s voice rose, his incantation deep and reverberating now.

“Stop him—focus on Lowestar!” I pushed through the force field where Morio and Camille had broken through. Little sparks of lightning still flared out from it, but I ignored them, driving on. The men behind the field scattered, save for the two that were daemonkin, and now they cast off their robes and turned to face me. I leaped between them, leaving them for the others. I was after Lowestar.

The statue continued to fracture, and beneath it, I could see the form of someone—crap. Was that where Suvika had been sleeping? Was this his tomb deep in the ethers? Or was this just his new godform, waiting for him as he broke free from his slumber?

I managed to reach the girl on the altar before Lowestar turned on me. He held out his hand and a flash of light drove out, aiming for my heart. I dove for the side. Screams behind me told me that the others had engaged the daemons and the good ol’ boys’ club.

The streaming light hit somebody, because I heard a shriek and turned as I came back to my feet. One of Lowestar’s cronies had a gaping hole in his chest, burned through and cauterized at the same time. A look of surprise on his face, he toppled face first to the floor.

Lowestar grabbed for a staff that was lying on the altar stone next to the girl. He brought it up as I did a spin kick, aiming for his chin. He met me with the staff, but I managed to break it in half and a crack of light burst out of the broken ends. He tossed it aside as I met him, hand to hand.

Lowestar was horribly strong—I hadn’t counted on how strong the daemon might be, and he managed to get hold of my neck. Aha, he didn’t know I was a vampire. He could break the vertebrae but they would heal. I let him pull me close, then flashed him my fangs.

“Oh, so that’s how you want to play?” His eyes flashed and he let go of me with one hand to reach for the broken end of the staff.

Fuck—makeshift wooden stake!

I thrust myself forward into his arms. Caught off guard, he wasn’t able to stop me. As I sank my fangs deep into his neck, he let out a startled shout and dropped the staff. I took him down, feeding so fast and deep that the blood was making me dizzy.

I was sucking him in, drinking him deep, when a noise shattered the chaos in the room. Glancing up as a shower of dust sprayed over me, I saw the rest of the marble on the statue crack and fall away as a tall, gorgeously handsome man leapt off the dais.

“Suvika!” Camille’s voice echoed from behind me. I pulled away from Lowestar and began to back up as the demigod turned my way. No way did I want to get caught in his grasp. I glimpsed the mayhem that had been going on—both daemons were dead, and the FBHs were scattered, cowering against the floor as if hiding their heads was going to save them. Turning back, I noticed the girl was gone—as well as the young man. They had vanished from their chains.

Lowestar turned on his belly and began to crawl toward Suvika. The demigod’s hair was glowing black, long and luxurious, falling against a well-muscled chest, and a thin Mandarin mustache accentuated the sharpness of his chin. He truly was glorious in looks, and I found myself magnetized by the gleam in his eyes.

He looked at Lowestar, who—weak from my attack—dragged himself one inch at a time toward the god. A fire began to burn in my belly, and I realized the daemon blood was starting to have an effect on me. I wanted to touch the god, to feel that chest under my skin. Maybe have a taste of—

“Menolly, get back!” Vanzir had hold of my arm and he was dragging me away. I struggled but he was as strong as I was, and the next thing I knew, he had those damned neon feeding tubes emerging from his hands and he fed them straight into my mind.

I screamed—the feeling of being mentally violated was sickening. Now, I understood why Camille had done what she did—why she had offered him her body instead of her mind. But then, just as I started to beg him to stop, the horrible intrusion vanished and I could think clearly again. Vanzir had left my mind.

He gave me a wan smile. “Sorry, but you needed to come down from that high, and fast.”

I nodded, then turned back to see the demigod approach Lowestar. Would he heal him up? Stand him as his general? But Suvika cocked his head, staring at the daemon, then lifted his foot… and crushed Lowestar Radcliffe’s skull with his boot with a simple, light step.

“Fuck! Get the hell out of here!” Delilah was backpedaling toward the door.

“The yew wand ain’t gonna do shit against that freak.” Vanzir backed away. “He’s big and he’s bad.”

“The girl—” Camille lunged forward.

Smoky caught her. “Shade got her! He moved through the shadows and I saw him taking her and the boy upstairs. Now get the fuck back from there. Can’t you feel how powerful this creature is? Suvika could bring this place down around our heads.”

Even as Smoky spoke, Suvika looked over at us, smiled, and raised his arms. The temple floor began to shake, rolling under our feet. All too close to what had happened in Elqaneve for comfort.

I turned to the others. “Get out. Get out of here now. We can’t stop him. He’s just too powerful. We need to know more before we take him on.” Even as I spoke, I was pushing them toward the door, Smoky helping me.

We raced out of the temple and to the stairs, running as fast as we could up the spiral case. As we cleared the broom closet, we didn’t bother going back to the basement or sewers. Smoky rampaged right through one of the plate glass windows and we made our way out. Another rumble and we crossed the street, heading for the parking lot. Five seconds later, the entire structure imploded, and a roiling storm billowed down the street, in clouds of dust and debris.

As we turned, staring at the destruction, a light rose from the chaos, and streaked into the sky. Suvika. He was awake and free, and who the fuck knew what that meant?