Frostbound

Chapter 29

If one didn’t like spiders, the underground tunnels were a lousy place to be. Darak’s cooler body temperature made him unappealing to most biting insects, but they still creeped him out. Give him a Bengal tiger in a snit; spare him the crawly things. Not that he’d ever admit that.

Webs and broken egg sacks lined the stone walls. Something down here was good eating, if the spiders liked the place that much.

“Is this the only way we can go?” demanded the queen.

It was the first complaint she’d made, so he was okay with the question. “It’s the least expected one. This passage should be unguarded. We’ll have you at the Hilliard Fairview in fifteen minutes.”

Rather than risking a long, exposed drive on the highway, Omara had taken a connecting flight from the airport to the inner harbor via float plane. Nia—who had avoided playing hostage because of the queen’s early arrival—was in charge of guarding the motorcade that was supposed to be carrying the queen. The plan was to trick Belenos into thinking Omara was in her limo aboveground, even while she was hoofing it through the sewers. The ruse would hopefully buy enough time for Lore to put Belenos out of business.

Darak stole a glance down at Omara. She ruled a vast territory in the Pacific Northwest, but she was tiny, dressed in a long coat of fine white wool trimmed with a fluffy white fur collar. One long black braid hung over her shoulder, a sharp contrast to all that white. Her eyes were the shade of dark honey, her skin of pale cinnamon. Though she barely looked twenty, she was far older than Darak.

A relay of phone calls through Lore and some guy named Caravelli had prepared her. Otherwise, a hihow’s-your-flight from half a dozen rogue mercenaries would not have gone well.

She sighed with relief when they reached a main junction. Darak and Iskander held up their flashlights. They were in the front, the queen and two of her personal guards were next, another two of Darak’s men bringing up the rear.

They swept the flashlight beams around, identifying a fork in the tunnels. One had a stream of water down the middle. The unmistakable stink of rotting kelp hung in the air.

“What is that?” Omara asked, putting a hand to her nose.

“We’re close to the harbor, Your Majesty” said Iskander, who was far more polite than Darak. “Some of these places fill up when the tide comes in. The tunnels were used to haul goods from the ships.”

“Smuggling, you mean,” she said, sounding a bit amused. Like all women, she seemed to think Iskander was adorable. That had been his talent as a body slave.

When they came to the next fork, they went right. Now the tunnels looked dirty and dark, but blessedly dry. In the beam of the flashlight, Darak could see where the layers of sand and dirt formed smooth carpets, and where it looked like feet had churned it up.

“These tunnels are definitely in use,” the queen murmured. “Are you sure this route is secure?”

Darak traced the path with the light. “Whoever was down here went this same way.”

They went into what looked like a narrow service passage lined with bricks. He guessed it was part of an old coal delivery chute, rebuilt to serve another purpose. Farther along, there was still black dust clinging to the bricks.

Iskander consulted the map he’d printed off the Empire Hotel’s computer. “I think we’re under Fort Street. That utility door to the left must lead to the basement of another hotel.”

“Is that good?” Darak asked irritably.

“This passage connects two tunnels. Shortcut. We’re where we’re supposed to be.”

“That’s all I care about.”

Omara gave a quick shake of her head. “Something is watching us.”

Darak looked around. They’d loaded up on charms and protections, but none of them packed the wallop of Perry Baker’s magic. “Then the plan’s gone wrong aboveground. Belenos knows we’ve double-crossed him.”

Omara’s eyes flashed. “Then get me up there so that I can deal with this face-to-face. Now.”

He liked a woman who was willing to fight, even if she was a queen. Damning protocol, he grabbed her hand, pulling her down the narrow brick passageway to the tunnels. Iskander ran ahead, graceful as a deer, a long knife drawn in one hand. They’d just gained the main passageway when Iskander stopped dead in his tracks. Omara rammed into Darak. They stumbled together, his arms around her to keep her from falling. She felt pleasantly female, if a little too small for his taste.

“What the hell?” he demanded, and then caught sight of what had stopped his friend.

Something—no doubt Belenos and his magic ball—had been watching them. And found them.

Their flashlight beams vanished into a wall of blackness. It was black as ink, or jet, or the edge of the world. A shred of the darkness tore itself off and began inching toward them like an ambitious slug.

Darak’s stomach rebelled, trying to crawl up his throat. Pushing past Iskander, he stomped the shadow-slug with his big boot, grinding it into the dust. When he lifted up his foot, it had vanished. “Illusion.”

Omara clenched her jaw. “I don’t like this kind of pretend. If he wants to play magic games, I say bring it on. I’ll show that worm a few tricks.”

A bright speck arrowed out of the darkness, whirring like a dragonfly. They ducked in unison, Darak feeling a sting as it zipped past his cheek. It splatted against the wooden door behind them, and it exploded. Darak pulled the queen to the ground, hoping none of the flying splinters were stake-sized. He rolled once, coming up on his elbows, and fired into the wall of darkness. The other guards followed suit. Muzzle flashes lit up the tunnel, blinding him for an instant.

Once the echoes of the gunshots faded, there was a moment of expectant silence.

Another bright, whirring blob came sailing straight at the queen. She tracked it for a microsecond, then shot it out of the air with a ball of energy she conjured out of thin air. The collision flared into a chrysanthemum of sparks, banging like a giant firecracker. Pain stabbed Darak’s ears.

Two more fireballs came toward them, close enough that Darak had to fling himself out of the way. One caught his left arm, searing through coat and shirt to shred the flesh beneath. He swore, blood streaming from the wound.

He turned to see one of Omara’s guards dead on the ground, a hole where his heart should have been. Not even a vampire could heal that.

Omara screamed something in a language Darak didn’t know, thrusting a hand at the wall of darkness. The black barrier exploded into a shower of tiny black pellets. Darak flinched, but the scraps of shadow vanished in midair. Behind the wall a dozen figures scrambled to get away. Darak braced himself and fired, dropping one. Omara’s other guard and two of the Clan Thanatos bolted after them, leaving Iskander and Darak in charge of the queen.

Darak was on his feet, forcing himself to ignore the pain in his arm. “We’ve got to get moving.”

Omara was looking around, her bottom lip caught in her teeth. Her white coat was smeared with dirt from the floor, but she didn’t seem to notice that. Fear was seeping into her eyes. “Can you feel it?”

As soon as she spoke, Darak could.

Iskander swore under his breath. A wave of menace so thick it was touchable seeped out of the walls. It was followed by a strange crackling noise, like something sticky rolling across the floor, or a million maggots all squirming at once.

Horror bubbled over Darak’s skin, every primal instinct going on alert. What is that? His imagination couldn’t come up with an image, just emotion.

“Move,” he ordered.

They moved, hurrying for the tunnel ahead.

Omara covered her nose. He smelled it, too—rot beyond description, as if the entire cemetery had come out to play. He choked back his gag reflex, motioning the others to hurry faster.

The sound was growing louder, emanating from an intersection in the tunnels about thirty yards away. Darak held out his hand to stop and shone the flashlight toward the noise. His hunting senses were on full alert, probing the darkness.

“Any guess as to what it is?” he asked Iskander.

“Bugs.”

“Bugs?” Crap.

The queen made a disgusted noise. “He is using the creatures of the tunnels against us.”

The atmosphere of terror grew, freezing every joint in their bodies. These are bugs on magic.

Iskander dug the map out of his pocket and shone his flashlight on it. “Alternate route, right side tunnel, twenty yards ahead,” he said in a tight voice.

“Do it. Fast.” Omara didn’t sound any happier. She had her fallen guard’s gun, and was holding it like a pro. “There’s a problem using magic on live creatures that are already enchanted.”

Darak looked down on her. “What?”

“I could try to blow them away only to have them come back bigger and stronger than before.”

“No, thanks.”

They ran forward, Darak hating the fact that they were running toward the threat. The rustling sound grew louder as they approached the side tunnel, the sinister fluttering and scratching making his skin crawl.

A giant, hairy, claw-tipped appendage speared into the passageway, followed by a second that seemed to probe the air. Omara gave a revolted cry.

They turned right and bolted, grateful to give in to the need to survive. Darak pushed the queen and Iskander ahead, putting himself closest to the enemy. The snap, crackle, rustle sound was growing closer. It was only as they rounded a curve that he saw the thing out of the corner of his eye. A fat, globular body swung amidst eight scuttling legs, a cluster of eyes glistening wetly in the center of its head.

And he remembered the millions of webs they’d passed earlier. The snap-crackle-breakfast-cereal-maggoty sound was the patter of tiny feet. Spiders were swarming in rivulets down the tunnel walls and across the tunnel floors. They had no option but to run across the tide. Darak tried not to feel the slippery crunch of it, and then the tickle of something crawling under his pant legs.

Vampires ran supernaturally fast, but the big spider was just as agile, squeezing through a narrow neck in the tunnel by flattening itself and folding sideways through what space there was.

Crap! They reached the passage they wanted, but it was webbed completely over. Iskander, who had been ready to launch himself down the passage, recoiled with a backward leap, nearly crashing into Darak.

Another exit up ahead was rimmed in webs, as if the spinners had just gotten started on that one. Darak thought he could see the white mesh growing in the few seconds he looked at it.

“This way!” They wheeled and bolted through it.

“I know where we are!” Iskander cried. “There’s a street exit about a block away!”

Blessed Persephone. This passageway was wide and new, recently used for city maintenance because there were pieces of pipe and other construction materials stacked against one wall. Frost furred the odd piece of metal, giving the debris the look of an exotic beast.

Darak had not gone fifty feet when he realized that the rustling sound wasn’t behind them anymore.

It was up ahead, between them and the way out. His stomach dropped like a rock.

Iskander gripped his gun as if it were a talisman. “We can’t go back. They’ll have our retreat webbed off.”

Without answering, Darak stopped and picked up a length of thin pipe, testing its weight and balance. He handed his flashlight to Omara. “Then we go forward.” He took the lead, shifting the pipe to his left hand, the .357 in his right.

I hate bugs. I really hate bugs. Spiders zigzagged across the ground, crawling over one another in their crazed haste to get—wherever. Darak couldn’t see a pattern in the movement, as if the creatures were driven by a panic of their own.

They grew thicker with each foot of ground. Iskander raised his flashlight beam a fraction, catching the dull gleam of a ladder to the street. For an instant, Darak’s hopes lifted.

Then the beam went up another notch. The huge spider was just in front of the ladder, splayed on the ceiling. Now Darak could see its full size—the body was as big as the wheel of a monster truck. The little spiders were weaving a thick web over the exit to the street.

His whole body itched and prickled.

Would a bullet kill it? Only one way to find out.

He shot the spider. It fell with a heavy plop, flipping itself upright with surreal speed. The bullet had gashed its chitinous body, a grayish green ooze dribbling out. Its pincers worked manically, venom gleaming at the tips.

A very different kind of venom from a vampire’s. One bite would surely kill a man.

Omara shot, aiming for the cluster of eyes. It squealed like a saw shredding violin strings. The spider rose on its hind end, front legs thrust out. Darak rushed forward, ramming the pipe into its belly. The spider fell forward, pincers slashing. With a wild leap, Darak flung himself into a somersault, barely escaping the cage of its legs. The spider jerked, struggling against the metal lodged in its flesh.

Darak aimed his Magnum and began firing with grim determination. Iskander and the queen followed suit.

Making another bone-wrenching scream, the creature rushed them. Darak dropped the gun and fell into a crouch right in the spider’s path.

“Darak!” Omara shrieked.

As the thing swarmed over him, legs churning to grab and hold, he flung his arms around the pipe and thrust with a rasping scrunch. Green matter fountained from the wound.

The screech pounded against the stone walls.

The small spiders fled in a stampede of rustling feet.

Darak heaved on the pipe, shoving the weight of the spider away as he leaped back. It collapsed to the ground, bouncing once before it lay in a stinking heap. Green continued to bubble from the fat belly.

They stood for a moment, saying nothing. Darak stared at it, pissed that it dared to exist.

“Where did that thing come from?” he growled.

Omara answered. “Sorcery. Belenos surely made it.”

“Do you think there’s more?”

The queen shrugged, looking pale beneath her cinnamon skin.

Iskander cleared his throat. “Just in case, let’s get out of here. Now.”

Pulling a knife from his boot, Darak circled around the body, and climbed the stairs. The spiders’ web sealed the exit completely. He hacked through the web, peeling it back with a sound like masking tape coming off the roll. He pushed open the manhole cover with a clang and climbed out. He took a lungful of clean, chill air, glad to be free. A moment later, he saw Omara’s upturned face peering out of the manhole. He reached down to pull her out.

Iskander followed, already on his phone. He flipped it shut. “Nia’s coming with the boys. There was a scuffle when a group of Hunters figured out the queen wasn’t in the car, but she took care of it.”

“Good news.”

The queen’s face was tight. “Even so, I underestimated Belenos. His forces are better organized than I assumed.”

Darak gave her a long look. That was the problem with royals. They always figured they were smarter than the next guy. But Omara had guts, so he gave her the benefit of his opinion. “Look, Your Majesty. If he just kills you, there’s a good chance someone will step up and continue your work. He wants to obliterate your base in Fairview. He wants everything you stand for gone.”

She turned angry eyes on him. “Then we need to finish this tonight.”

“No shit.”