The Darkness That Hunts
Chapter 25

Zakk’s “signal” comes a fewmoments later. It basically consists of Dace shouting, “Hey, I think you’relate for the set of Downton Abbey!” and hurling his chakram.

“‘Downton Abbey?’”

Kam shrugs. “British TV showhis mom used to watch.” His hand squeezes mine as one chakram cuts off the armof one of the chanting necromancers. The other knocks off the Unseelie’s tophat.

Flames ripple through theair as the discs arc back towards Dace. Zakk is already releasing his spell.Acid erodes the chains binding the lich. Naja claws at the eyes of anothernecromancer and the Unseelie’s shrill shriek nearly makes my ears bleed. Butit’s the deep roar, haunted and furious that has me quaking. The lich springsto life, snapping through the last of the necromancer’s dark spell.

Zakk’s plan is a success.The necromancers scatter but two aren’t fast enough. One gets crushed under thelich’s massive fist. The second the lich plucks from the ground like asquirming maggot. It pops the Unseelie woman into its mouth. I hear the wet,sloppy crunch of her bones and flesh against its teeth before it’s taking up itsmassive whip. The sound is like rusty thunder as the whip whirls through theair, ripping through marble crypts and thick pillars as if they’re sheets ofcheap computer paper.

A necromancer tries toteleport out of range but the barbed whip severs his body into three chunks ofsteaming flesh.

Already Zakk and Dace havefled down the boulevard with at least two Unseelie throwing magic at theirheels. The lich’s barrel chest heaves as it takes their scent deep into itslungs. Like a hound on the hunt, it bounds off in their direction. TheNecropolis rattles under its massive feet.

“Shari, we have to getmoving.”

Reluctant, I follow Kamiron acrossthe now deserted courtyard and onto the broad streets of the Necropolis’ innercity where he immediately steers us to a narrow side street. “I hope they’ll bealright.”

“I’m more worried about us,”he confesses.

“Why? We’re running awayfrom that monster.”

“Did you see where thoseSidhe went? The ones who could escape went straight to the ziggurat. And thatdoesn’t even take into account any wights or revenants that might meet us alongthe way. All that noise and death is bound to wake the undead--or attractnecromancers that weren’t at the séance.”

Crap. I pull out my bow and load a glimmeringarrow.

Kamiron must have been aninja in a past life because he’s like a ghost. Guided by his clairaudience, hesteers us clear of pockets of undead as we snake through the city block-by-block,moving north towards the ziggurat’s towering tiers. Though we’ve long passedthe courtyard and wall sectioning off the inner city, the Necropolis thundersaround us. Somewhere to the southeast I watch a giant obelisk shatter intochalky white dust. The ground rumbles as it falls. No doubt the lich’s work.

“Almost to the front steps.I think we’re--oh, shit.” Kamiron skidsto an abrupt halt and casts a frantic gaze about for a hiding spot. There’s notmuch aside from a few stubby gravestones but the alcove to one of the nearbycrypts is deep enough that we might be able to replace cover. I shove Kam towards thedark shadows just as a necromancer steps into view escorted by what can only bewights. Animated skeletons clutch four-foot spears in their fleshless hands.

My arrows would be uselessagainst them.

My attention drifts to theirmaster: a woman, delicate and small. Her skin is green. Not the green of decayand gangrene, but the olive hue of grass at the height of spring. Black hairsticks up in spikes all over her head and unlike the necromancers before, sheisn’t dressed in Victorian-style clothing. In fact, she isn’t really dressed atall. Only a bodice made of ropes and leather belts drape her body and arearranged to enhance her lithe figure, not conceal.

I glance at Kamiron to see ifhe’s distracted by her body--most notably her bare breasts--but he only staresat the heart-shaped scepter on her hip.

“I’ll try to take down thetwo skeletons. I need you to cover me.”

I balk. “You can’t--butshe’s a--maybe they won’t even see us?”

His mirthless chuckle isbarely more than a breath. “Considering how things have a habit of going exactlyour way . . .” His sledgehammer sways as he balances on the balls of his feet,sure to keep his body hidden in shadow. I remember him facing down the lobisomem with the same fortitude and Isigh in defeat.

“At least we have theelement of surprise,” he offers, and this time I detect the humor in his voice.

“I’m more worried about themage.”

Kamiron waits until they arealmost fifteen paces away before he leaps the short fence circling the cryptand springs into action. I decide that even if she can bend the forces of magicto her will, a naked mage will have to dodge when an arrow barrels towards herface.

Unless, of course, theaforementioned naked mage has an invisible force field protecting her.

My arrow bounces harmlesslyoff some kind of arcane barrier that shimmers fuchsia before dissipating. Isacrifice two more arrows to the same outcome.

Yep. Things are definitelygoing our way. As always.

At least the wights arecaught off guard. I manage to catch a glimpse of Kamiron shattering the femurof one wight before I’m forced to duck into the alcove as a menacing globe ofdarkness rockets my way. It splashes against the side of the crypt and oozes tothe ground in sluggish rivulets.

“What the heck is that?”

Touch it and replace out? Vayu suggests.

Think I’ll pass.

I peek around the corner andquickly throw myself back against the crypt entrance as another glob ofblackness splatters against the edge of the crypt. This time some of it landson my pants. The cold burns and numbs my left leg. I gasp, stumbling.

The numbing sensation fades,but the cold lingers and my teeth start to chatter. All that from a few tinydrops! I don’t even want to think what would happen if all of it got on me.

I know I can’t stay herehiding, especially not when Kamiron needs me. While I may not be able topenetrate Naked Mage’s shield, the longer her attention is on me, the longer itisn’t on Kam.

I take a deep breath andlaunch myself away from the crypt, tucking into a roll. I hear rather than seeanother globe splash on the ground where I had been standing. The mossy grassis surprisingly soft as I roll to a halt near a narrow gravestone and peekaround it.

Kamiron looks the worse forwear. A deep gash mars his upper arm and blood drips down his sleeve. Dirt andsweat darken his golden skin and his eyes are dim with pain. Nevertheless his lipsform a determined line. Bones crunch beneath his heel as he shifts his balance,stepping over the remains of the first wight. The second lunges, its speartargeting Kam’s jugular. He pivots back, twisting his body to the left. Theiron tip of the spear sings with the near miss. The wight reverses its gripwith surprising dexterity and the wooden shaft of its weapon connects withKamiron’s jaw. He staggers back.

I tumble out of the way ofanother globe of darkness. The necromancer smiles at me, a smile that doesn’treveal teeth but I get the impression her mouth is full of serrated fangs. Shetakes a step towards me, darkness coiling between her palms like a black hole.I dive behind a second tombstone but I’m not quick enough. This time my leftelbow gets hit and the numbness is instantaneous. The cold compounds and myright hand trembles as I yank an arrow from the air and press my back againstthe grave, making sure no part of my body is exposed to her magic.

Did you see that? Vayu demands. I can feelhim restlessly pacing between my temples like a mythical griffin.

I think so. Each time she attacks, a hole opens in her shield.It lasts for only a split second--two blinks, if that--but maybe it could beused to my advantage.

Time it carefully, girl, he cautions.

I shake my left hand. Idon’t have feeling in three fingers, and those that remain are about asdexterous as boiled sausages but I force them to curl around the grip. The onlyway to get her to attack again is to expose myself to her ball of cold. Will Ibe fast enough to dodge another attack?

I leap to my feet. Around methe air stills as if taking a quick, gasping breath. The chaos of my thoughts recedes,and time slows as my focus becomes hyperaware. I can almost see the moleculesof air funneling into the necromancer’s dark globe. I watch her ample bosomrise with her inhale, the muscles of her lower abdomen tighten as she stepsforward on bare feet. Her eyes are brown, so dark as to be nearly black. Theysettle on my gleaming russet arrow in amused curiosity. She doesn’t evenregister me as a threat.

That’s fine, bitch. I shift a half-step left,adjust my trajectory . . .

The sphere of darkness bitesthe air as she hurls it forward. My arrow leaps from my longbow. It skirtsalong the edge of the globe and shimmies through the necromancer’s protectivebarrier just as it seals shut. The naked mage doesn’t get the opportunity tolook surprised. My arrow buries itself into her armpit with enough force toknock her on her butt.

Okay, so I was aiming forher heart, but beggars can’t be picky.

My knee nearly gives out asI swivel out of the way of her latest globe. It splashes against the hips of abronze statue in the shape of a squatting goblin. I shudder as the thick secretionsizzles onto the cracked flagstone beneath the statue. The ooze smells likeburned eggs.

A thwump and the sound of several bones crunching under the impact ofa heavy object jolts me. Kamiron grunts under the exertion and his sledgehammerswings wide, coming in for a second blow. The wight’s ribcage has beenshattered, its left hip ruined, but still it tries to fight. Kamiron’s weaponglows moss-green and again there’s the lethal impact of steel on bone. A quasarburst of heat flares for an instant and the wight collapses, literallypulverized to chalky dust.

Kamiron’s eyes roll into theback of his head and he falls to a knee.

“Kam!” I scurry to his side.An ugly purple bruise blossoms across his jaw and collarbone. I notice otherinjuries that his dark aketon hid. At least three stab wounds.

“I’ll be fine,” he wheezes,“Just need a sec.”

You don’t have a “sec”, Vayu warns. I feel hisattention focused ahead and I turn to the necromancer. She’s back on her feet,fingers idly caressing her scepter. My arrow lies at her toes like a shard ofstained glass. I leap in front of Kamiron with my longbow poised at the ready.

“Mortal.” Her voice issurprisingly high-pitched, her accent vaguely . . . Australian? “You injured me.”

She doesn’t seem angry somuch as astonished. Guess it was too much to hope for that she’d be mortallywounded.

“Oh, I can do more thanthat, sugar.” I lift my chin. “If I were you, I’d high-tail it out of here,before I replace a more permanent solution.”

The necromancer’s delicatenose wrinkles. Brown eyes flicker to Kamiron and back to me. “Unlikely, thoughI am amused by your bravado. Your champion is injured, perhaps fatally.”

My heart sinks but I don’tspare a glance at Kam.

“So why would I abandon notone, but two meals? I think it better to drink your vitality and reanimate yourcorpses to replace my ruined servants.”

A gray tongue darts over heremerald lips as if she can taste us through the air. Knowing her, she probablycan. The rope and leather bodice swooshes as she takes a testing step forward. Herpalm cups the grip of her scepter.

“That’s close enough,” Iorder, training an arrow on her. I slowly funnel power down the translucentorange shaft and into the arrowhead. I envision that when I release it, and itdigs itself into her ribcage, the power of it will shatter her from the insideout. “I may have missed the mark the first time, but I won’t make that mistakeagain. You can try another of your shields, but you can’t attack me withoutmaking yourself vulnerable. All I need is a second.”

That draws her up short. Sheglares at me and her hand falls away from her weapon. Again her tongue, flatand slug-like, flickers in the air. Her eyes nearly roll back into her smallskull. Her arms hug her waist, thrusting her boobs upwards.

I keep my eyes locked onhers and away from her uncomfortably naked body.

“And you would release me,mortal?”

“If you promise to go yourway and let us go ours. Our quarrel doesn’t involve you.”

Her attention shifts over tothe gleaming rooftops of the Necropolis. A sharp longing for Dace scrapesagainst my ribs. He’d know exactly what to say, exactly how to use his words todisarm her. Truth is, I’m bluffing. I have no idea if I could even hit her; shemight easily dodge my arrow and I can’t leave Kam unprotected if she retaliateswith another of those globe things. That’s all assuming the arrow will actuallyshatter her from the inside out if it hits her.

Too many uncertainties formy taste, and none of which I wish to let on to her.

“What could possibly bringmortals to the Necropolis?”

The power of the arrow burnsthe lingering numbness and cold infecting my left arm. I flex my fingers andbite back a wince at the tingling pain of renewed blood flow.

“Time’s up. What will itbe?”

The leather belts slideacross her form in a sensuous manner as she inhales one last time beforeputting her back to us. “Pray we do not meet again, mortals. I will not berobbed of fetching sport twice.”

With that, she drifts downanother road--thankfully leading away from the ziggurat.

My knees knock and it’s allI can do to remain standing.

Shari: 1.

Naked Mage: 0.

Relief and triumph makes megiddy. The power infused in my arrow goes dormant and I stuff it into my beltloop and squat beside Kamiron.

“Can’t believe you let hergo,” he pants, grunting as we struggle to stand. “You know she’ll be back.”

“We’ll cross that bridge ifwe get to it. Come one, we’re almost there.”

Another courtyard circlesthe tiers of the ziggurat. Great stone steps, at least a hundred, lead up tothe very top where the entrance gapes like a black wound. The energy radiatingfrom the tiers’ glazed bricks makes me even more nauseated. Kamiron looksalmost as green as the naked mage we faced.

“Anything?”

“Looks clear,” I answer and despite my best attempts, I can’t keepthe doubt from my voice. “Shouldn’t we see to your--”

“Inside first. Find a safeplace to wait for the others and then we’ll see about me,” Kamiron insists.

But you’re bleeding all over us, I want to point out, butinstead I push off from the wall and hook my arm beneath Kamiron’s shoulder.Supporting him, we clamber across the barren plaza. Whatever Dace and Zakk aredoing, it’s working. No one is here--not that I expected the Necropolis to beteeming with life (undead or otherwise)--but the respite is welcome.

Climbing the hundred steps islike a slow, burning death for my thighs and calves. The stitch in my sidesteals my breath; when we finally reach the ziggurat’s top, I can’t force mylegs to take another step. Instead I turn and look out over the Necropolis.

Ater’s bloody sky crouchesabove us like a bloated tick. The city gleams; cold, silent, crowded. Narrowroads circle the towering crypts and mausoleums of the outer city while thebroad avenues of the inner city skirt elaborate tombstones and obelisks as bigas houses.

My attention darts to thepockets of flame that burn in the distance. Thick smoke mars the pristine whiteof the Necropolis. Murky shapes, some that shuffle, a few that slink, andothers that stride with single-minded purpose, comb the streets along precisegrids.

Hunting parties.

Out of a quadrant to theeast, a monument suddenly collapses. The lich’s roar is muted since we are sofar away, but I know the creature has destroyed another structure in its searchfor my friends. It doesn’t take me long to replace its hulking shape, but . . .

My breath hitches and I grabKamiron’s elbow. He pulls his gaze from the horizon where we can see therolling mounds of the Lost and beyond that, the black line of the Onyx. Hestares down at what’s caught my attention.

Two hulking shapescrisscross the Necropolis’ streets. Two liches stalk Zakk and Dace.

Kamiron’s voice is flat,emotionless. “Let’s get inside before we’re seen.”

A vast arch marks theentrance. Ugly sigils trace the arch’s rim. As I step past, I avoid looking atthem and instead press my palm against my rioting stomach in hopes that I don’tvomit. Inside, the scent of orchids hits me and for a second I falter,startled. It’s a pleasant fragrance, like a perfume from an expensive airfreshener; yet beneath it I detect the faint aroma of decay and rot. No amountof freshener can mask that.

I blink and wait for my eyesto adjust to the darkness; to my amazement, stars unfurl before me.

Not like the stars I’ve glimpsedon a clear night in the Georgia countryside, but the heavenly bodies of deepspace. Bright stars swim in gases the color of fall leaves--plum and pumpkin,crimson and emerald. Planets rotate, nebulas erupt, galaxies collide. I watch apair of binary stars circle my head. To my left, a supernova collapses underthe weight of its own death and transforms into a black hole--a gaping maw sodark that I cannot see it. I can only see the light of the galaxies itswallows.

Gritting my teeth, I forcemy gaze away and wrestle with the bubbling mass of emotions warring inside me.Staring into the cold eye of the universe makes me realize how small I am. Howinsignificant. This struggle for life, something that is just a blip, a blinkin the unfurling of time--what possible effect could I hope to have with allthis death around me? How could I think to take on Andhakar when I am nothing more than an insect? Vayu-Vaata wasright: pure arrogance.

You must not despair, Vayu cautions and for oncehe sounds tender. This place is a temple,one that exists in a dimension at the seams of space and time. It is where thenecromancers harness the powers of creation and destruction and bend them totheir will. This is how they can animate their abominations.

Then what I’m seeing isn’t real?

“Real” is relative, Shari. You base it on your senses. This is beyondsense. It is a manifestation of the primal, elemental forces of existence.When he recognizes that I’m even more confused, a heated breeze ruffles thetight curls at my nape as if he is rubbing away the tension congealed there. View it is as only a room, and that it whatit will be.

Clutching his abdomenKamiron drops to a knees. Ignoring the unfurling cosmos, I kneel beside myfriend. His golden skin looks gray, his cheekbones impossibly sharp. Sweatdrips from his dark hair.

“Tell me what to do.”

Kudos to my voice for soundingcalm when in reality I’m on the verge of a breakdown.

“I don’t know. I guess weneed to clean them, but--not here. Still too . . .” He waves his hand in acircle to encompass the starry temple.

“Exposed?”

A nod.

“Can you even walk?”

Kamiron’s jaw forms astubborn line and I regret the doubt that had crept into my voice. I help himup and again we face the expanse of swirling galaxies in colors that I’ve neverseen before. This time I’m not as overwhelmed by the vastness of the sight andam able to notice more mundane practicalities. Like the polished glass floor. Itbisects the vast temple and leads to square metal platforms encased inreflective black glass. Elevators, maybe? They navigate through asteroid cloudswith the grace and purpose of starships. I can’t see anyone in them, but I keepmy fingers crossed that in turn theycan’t see us.

Kamiron wobbles against meand I struggle under his weight. “Should we see where those elevators go?”

“Not really,” I mutter but Isense that whatever this tether is hidden, it’s somewhere below, and theelevators seem to be the only way to get there. I guide Kamiron towards thenearest one. Walking across the glass floor is unsettling. Comets arc above ourheads and asteroids spiral about our feet. Space uncoils around us, too vast tosee its beginning or end. It’s hard to envision this place as a temple, but Ican picture necromancers gathered in circles around a broken moon, chanting intheir rituals and siphoning power to animate the dead.

Our shoes make no sound aswe scuttle into the elevator. It seems to hover along the bright rings of agaseous planet as large as Jupiter but the teal color of Neptune.

“See a lever?”

I search the dark glass, butthere’s nothing. No buttons, no levers, no instructions. Panic settles in.

“I think it’s activated bymagic.”

“And Zakk isn’t here.”Kamiron gurgles and spits on the floor. The metal drinks his blood until itdisappears entirely. I clutch him tighter. His hard muscles are tense beneathmy hands, and his skin feels wet and unnatural cold.

God, I just want to get someplace safe so I can help Kamiron!

The elevator lurches and tomy surprise we start gliding backwards instead of down. The blue planet withthe rings like Saturn shrinks as if we’re zooming through space at--

“Warp speed, huh?” Kamironmanages a lopsided grin and then coughs. “How’d you get it to move?”

“I don’t know. I was justthinking of going someplace safe and I guess it heard me?”

Stars become streaks ofcolor that gradually fade to nothingness. Darkness black as pitch absorbs us. Ican see nothing and though I feel the strange weightlessness of the elevator’smovement, I can’t tell what direction we’re going much less where we’re headed.

Kamiron sways and I swear myheart stops beating.

“Stay with me, Kam. We’realmost there.”

The elevator gives a hard lurchto the right as if it’s caught on something, and then lights explode around ourfeet. Moss-green and indigo blossom like fireworks and it takes me a moment torealize the lights are sparks. The elevator seems to have landed on a track ofsome sort and the rails spark at intervals as we speed along. It’s still toodark to see where we are, but it feels like our elevator has turned into atrain.

Just when I start relaxinginto the sensation, the bottom drops. Instead of drifting to the right (ormaybe it’s forward? It’s hard to tell in the stifling darkness) we’re fallingat a steady pace. No sparks light the darkness, but it’s not necessary. Levelafter level passes us. Arcane laboratories on one, a floor filled with corpses,an empty hallway on another. We’re passing too fast to see much more, but whatI do manage to glimpse fills me with dread. There are far too manynecromancers, far too many undead canvasing the halls. Thank God they can’t seeus, but what if the elevator stops on one of those inhabited floors?

Our elevator halts before adimly lit level, this one comprised of a single room. There is another lurch asthe elevator catches on something and then we’re inching forward on another setof tracks. The room expands around us and finally the elevator comes to a halt nearthe room’s center.

Wooden coffins and stonesarcophagi lean against the walls. Body parts, dirty jars of strange liquid andpottery sit on dusty shelves. Piled in corners are vases of multicolored fabricand stalks of some kind of black, thorny plant. In the center of therectangular room is a table with dried stains on its surface. Other than theelevator, there is no other entrance or exit.

I help Kamiron stagger tothe table where he collapses, flopping onto his back like a boneless fish. Assoon as we are off it, the elevator recedes along invisible tracks and a torchabove us floods the rectangular room in blue light. I replace more artifacts andornate cabinets with thick wooden doors tucked in the furthest reaches of theroom.

“I’m no Zakk, but . . .” Ilet the sentence dangle as I help him remove his filthy aketon and the shreddedshirt beneath. I wince at the bruises and open wounds marring his body. “God,Kamiron, you need stitches!”

“Water,” he grunts. “Clean .. . first.”

I eye our surroundings. Noobvious source of clean water, and I sure as hell wasn’t about to trust theliquid floating in the dusty jars. I uncork my flask. Kam’s eyelids flutterclosed as I work. It’s the first time I’ve really gotten to explore his body.I’ve seen it, of course. He’s buff, his stomach rippling with muscles, hispecks well-defined but . . .

Water clears away most ofthe blood and I finally see the extent of shallow cuts and then the blue-blackbruises that spot his gold flesh like polka dots. I can deal with those soonenough, but it’s the blood that continues to ooze from a trio of deep andprecise stab wounds that has my hands shaking and tears stinging my eyes. Sincehe’s still alive, I’m relieved they’ve missed his vitals, but there’s no wayhe’ll survive much longer if I don’t replace a way to close them.

“Kamiron . . .” I don’t knowwhat to say. I’ve never stitched someone up before.

“You’ll do fine, Shari. Needbandages. Needle. Thread. Some kind of fire.” Pain cuts off any otherinstructions and Kamiron faints.

I circle the room, steeringclear of the mummified remains and the coffins, I search the shelves, vases andcabinets. I’m able to replace something that can pass as thread, and evenbandages. A needle was too much to hope for, but the black thorns in the vaseshave sharp points. I snap one off and hurry back to Kam.

He’s slipping in and out ofconsciousness.

Fire. I need fire tosterilize my makeshift needle.

If you stand on the table, you may be able to reach the lantern,Vayu suggests. I’d nearly forgotten he was in my head, and I’m grateful for hissteady encouragement. I hold up the thorn to the blue flames, hoping that itdoesn’t just turn to ash. The tip turns white with heat and once I’m satisfiedit’s sterilized, I climb down and gape at Kamiron’s wounds.

Focus on the task at hand. Follow my instructions.

Vayu guides me as I tie thethread to my makeshift needle and pierce Kam’s skin. He shrieks, regainingconsciousness for a second before passing out again. Tears roll down my cheeksbut I don’t stop until my task’s complete. Wiping off my bloody fingers on anearby cloth, I wrap Kamiron’s waist and arm with the shreds of fabric Iretrieved from the vases.

Exhausted, I search forsomething to sit on, but there’s only the coffins, so I prop myself up next toKamiron and wait for him to stir.

A knee prods me in my lowerback and I jerk upright, embarrassed I’d dozed. Kamiron tries to sit up but grimacesand clutches his abdomen. Sweat beads across his skin as his eyelids flutterclosed.

“Sorry,” I offer, but he dismissesthe apology with a weak wave.

“Thank you. I know it wasn’teasy.”

The flames flicker around usand I look towards the dark rectangular opening from which the elevator came. “Thinkthey’ll replace us?”

Though I don’t say theirnames, I know Kamiron understands whom I’m referring to. He doesn’t open hiseyes as I dab the sweat from his brow. “We’ll have to go without them.”

I bristle. Kamiron senses myanger and forces his lids to open. Despite his obvious pain, his grey eyes arelike granite as they meet mine. “You knew it might come to this.”

“They’re not dead.” But I can’t hold his gaze asI say this and my voice lacks true conviction.

A calloused hand dwarfs mine.“I never said they were, Shari.”

True.

Kamiron dons his bloodyshirts wincing only slightly at their wet stickiness. “Do you sense thetether?”

I escort all thoughts ofDace and Zakk to a small compartment in my mind and shut the door. I have a jobto do, after all. I fill my lungs with deep breaths. The air, though stale,isn’t cloying and while I still smell orchids and the taint of rot, I alsosmell citrus. Tangerines, actually. My seeking senses blossom around me,expanding outward like a bubble. I feel the electric buzzing almostimmediately. It hums between my toes and vibrates along the arch of my feet.

“Down.”

Kamiron’s leather pantshisses as he stands. His knees wobble and he grabs the table. Pain ripplesacross his face but he only grits his teeth and straightens. I watch as hetakes an experimental step. His muscles tense, and his jaw works, but he seemsto move with only a little stiffness. I follow him towards the only opening tothe room, the elevator shaft. It’s a dead end, a blank expanse of wall. We lookup to a shaft leading up into darkness. There is no way to climb the wall, noropes, nothing.

Kamiron gives the roombehind us a cursory once over and frowns. “We could try the elevator again . ..”

A loud noise, the clank ofsomething catching, vibrates along the walls of the elevator shaft. I spot theoutline of a sinking metal platform.

“Is that you?”

“I thought it was you,”Kamiron admits.

We retreat from the openingand back into the room. From the shaft, laughter cuts the air and I recognizethe vaguely Australian cadence.

“You should have killed herwhen you had the chance,” Kamiron scolds.

“I wasn’t sure I could kill her.” I give him a pointedlook. “I’m still not.”

“Then let’s get out ofhere.”

“How? The only way out isthe elevator, Kamiron. This isn’t like in the movies where a secret passageconveniently appears just when the heroes need it most.”

He ignores me and pacesabout the room in a circle, all earlier stiffness forgotten. His eyelids lower,his thick lashes kissing his high cheekbones. “There’s something--”

Behind us we hear a click and suddenly a dark glassencasement appears at the room’s opening.

“Look who I found!” thenecromancer says, her voice gleeful and triumphant. “With the amount of blood Ismelled in the temple, I had my doubts, but I’m relieved you are still alive.For now.”

Zakk had warned us that ourblood would call to the necromancers. I can see the outline of her leather beltsthrough the glass as the elevator drifts forward. I curse and my panic ratchetsup another level. “Kamiron--”

He doesn’t acknowledge me orthe approaching necromancer. His head tilts as he paces before a row ofcoffins. “It feels different . . .” he trails off, taking a step forward. Hepauses, frowning, and steps back. “Kotti--here.”

His eyes fly open and he’spushing the maple lid from a coffin. I cry out, expecting a revenant to burstforth and maul Kam’s face, but as the lid scrapes across the coffin andclatters to the floor, it reveals a narrow ledge with a rope ladder dippingdown into darkness.

I’ll be damned.

Kamiron found a way out.