Chapter 25 #2
Unlike the other sleeping homes on the street, this one was lit up like a chandelier, every arched window alive and bright, concealing the inside details with sheer curtains and painted designs etched into the glass.
The estate was surrounded by a tall iron fence and sprawled across a sloping property.
The courtyard before it was well manicured and framed with a circular driveway.
Three cars were parked out front, drivers resting against their cabins.
A lookout guarded the house from the roof.
Damien’s motorcar was parked near the front door. I recognized it from outside the slaughterhouse. Golden accents and handles, a glossy black body. There weren’t many cars—even in the Districts—and it was unlikely there were two machines like it.
“Shit…” I cursed, hiding behind the neighboring fence line, concealed by trees and shrubs, and trying to think of a plan.
The best idea, and the most conservative, would be to wait for Damien to leave before sneaking in.
But I had no way of knowing when he might be needed elsewhere.
At least, not until the duel was set to begin, and that would be too late.
What mattered was that I’d found his home, and I was sure the dice would be hidden here. It was nicely guarded, and I had time to spare to wait for the right opportunity.
I took the chance to catch my breath after jumping fences and listened with the relic for footsteps or the click of weapons, an open door or the throttle of an engine. Signs that someone might be about to find me here. Instead, I heard… voices.
I focused on the sound, turning my head and trying to pinpoint the source. It almost seemed to be rising from the earth itself.
Sewers…
Lining the edges of every street were drains leading down to sewage tunnels. The Fissures used the canals when the pump houses failed to control waste. But here, much higher above the waterline than the southern tip of the city, there were drains beneath the better neighborhoods.
The words became clearer as I approached the nearest drain. The die picked up on a hushed conversation. “Can’t we just use the street? It’s not like they’ll come for us.”
Another answered, “Doesn’t want us making a show of it. Not yet, anyway.”
“Until the duel?”
A scoff. “Possibly.”
Light from an oil lamp briefly rose from the street drain, and I watched it fade along with voices. It seemed they had been a group of Damien’s men, and I wondered if they were using the pipes to get around town, avoiding the constables.
They had been moving away from Damien’s home, leaving the area. Perhaps if they could get out through the sewers, I could get inside that way.
It was as good a plan as any, because just as I peered through the fence posts, Damien’s car started, a pair of headlights flickered across the dewy cobblestones.
He was leaving.
The path through the tunnels wasn’t long, but it was dark as I had no lamp to guide my way.
Without the Vitalis die, I would have been blind.
The tunnels connecting the sewers felt like a dungeon.
The noise of rushing water, from a channel in the middle of the tunnel, covered any other sound.
I tried to keep my steps light as I climbed two flights of stairs.
Eventually, I emerged into a large chamber, where a ladder ascended into an unknown darkness.
A grinding sound came from above, and I panicked, searching for a place to hide from the light now shining down on the ladder. Someone was coming.
I backtracked into the tunnels, hiding in a route that extended eastward and praying they would follow the men before them, which would lead them in the opposite direction.
“Is anyone coming down? Should I lock up?” a voice echoed in the dark.
Another male voice answered. “Damien will take a car. But we have loads coming in tonight. The girls will be down to grab them.”
“He gets a car while we use the sewers? What the hell…”
“This is all temporary. Just until we can get rid of the other Antonin.”
“I suppose. Even so—wait. Which way is it?”
“We’re posting early near the old warehouses. We go west.”
I cursed my luck and started down the steps, hiding where the tunnel met the sewer and a narrow walkway rimmed the side of the filth draining from the block. I found a dark alcove, pressing myself against the grimy tunnel wall, and waited for the bob of light to pass.
Damien’s men were leaving, posting themselves around the city. For what—I didn’t know yet. But that meant fewer bodies patrolling the house. I listened until their steps were distant and their light lost in the winding tunnel system before venturing back the way I’d come.
The ladder went to another access point to the sewer system, but this one was a private entrance. A basement, at first glance, but something more sinister as I took in the details.
It reminded me of the cellar back at Opal’s, but there wasn’t wine to drink here.
Instead, boxes and crates lined the edges of the room.
There wasn’t a label in sight to reveal the contents, but I could guess it was contraband if it was locked up beneath a house.
A few guns were scattered over the tops, but I didn’t linger to inspect whatever was inside.
I had to find Max’s artifacts and escape before Damien returned.
“What are you doing in here?”