Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
The Irish morning is gray and damp, a fine mist hanging low over the hills as we make our way from the Order minivan and cross a field toward the site of the first broken lockstone.
Freya walks ahead of us at a pace that suggests she's more of a field historian than a keeper of tomes back at Order headquarters.
With her coat pulled closed and her canvas backpack slung over one shoulder, she doesn't look anything like a librarian.
She looks more like Indiana Jones heading into an ancient underground cave system.
We tromp across the uneven ground from where she parked the van, and I scan the frost-covered landscape, searching for our destination.
If it wasn’t for the man standing guard, I wouldn’t have seen it. The entrance is barely visible until we're almost on top of it—a heavy stone arch built into the hillside, half-swallowed by moss and long grass.
The Order representative on site watches us as we approach, assessing each of us, a relaxed hand resting on the body of the automatic weapon slung across his broad chest.
I’m not sure how effective a weapon like that would be against Tharuzel, but that’s neither here nor there.
Or maybe it’s not for demons at all.
I meet Wylder’s gaze, and by the tightness in his ebony brows, he seems to be thinking along the same lines as I am. That guy is ready to defend against intruders.
Freya doesn’t seem concerned in the slightest. “Morning, Blake.”
The guard straightens as we approach, and when we’re close enough, he hands Freya a folded paper. “Morning, ma’am. The lads flagged the north passage overnight. The whole bloody system’s shifted again."
"Noted." Freya unfolds the map and glances at it, already moving. "Right then. We’ll mind ourselves."
The man looks at the rest of us with the specific expression of someone being polite while also thinking this is a terrible idea.
It’s not the first time our group has been looked at like that. Hell, it’s not even the first time today. Whatevs. We have a job to do, the same as everyone else.
We follow Freya under the arch.
The quality of the air changes the moment we step through the entranceway. It’s warmer, denser, carrying that musty smell that comes from damp stone and earth.
It’s also dark. The enterprising light that’s making it through the mouth of the cave is enough to lighten the first five or six feet inside.
After that, it’s full dark.
Wylder raises a hand, and his palm fills with a steady flow of soft, green plant magic channeled into light.
Henrik does the same on the other side of the group, his spirit affinity offering us a soft, blue light.
Freya pulls something from her bag and slides it onto her forehead. When she clicks the button, it brightens everything in our path for a hundred feet in front of us. No magic, just a high-powered headlamp.
She opens the folded paper that the guard gave her and frowns. "We’ll take the left passage at the first fork, then keep straight on till the tunnel opens out.”
“Is there a problem?” I ask.
“Aye, there could be. We’re not sure if it’s the old wardings on the cave or something your demon friend has done, but the passages won’t stay put. Every day they’re different, which means there’s no taking the same road to the ritual chamber twice.”
I step closer and look at the map she’s studying. The Order's cartographer has neat handwriting and easy-to-read artistry. Lily would be impressed.
“So, you’re thinking we follow it here?” I point to the way she said we should go and trace a finger toward what I assume is the ritual chamber.
“Aye, that’s where I’d put my money, but this whole stretch here is new. Nobody’s mapped it yet, so your guess is nearly as good as mine what we’ll find.”
I shrug. “If we have to backtrack a bit, we’re fine.”
She shakes her head. “It’s not the walking that worries me, love, it’s what we’ll run into. Over the last two days, our teams have found traps, spells, and every manner of magical deterrent. I’d rather not see any of you taken down by one.”
Oh, sweet. “Thanks. We’ll be ready for anything. And luckily, we’ve proven to be pretty resilient.”
Freya gives me a kind smile. “Let’s hope that’s enough. Come on then. We’ll see what the cave has in store for us, shall we?”
"Lead the way." Wylder falls into step beside me near the front, close enough that the light from his hand spills across the map in my hands.
Behind us, Asher is studying the walls with the delighted attention of a kid at a theme park. Orion has one hand on him, tugging him along. And Henrik and Rowan are walking side-by-side, taking up the rear.
"How deep do the tunnels go?" Henrik asks.
"The sections we’ve mapped reach about forty meters below the surface.
" Freya doesn’t turn back when she speaks to us.
She keeps the beam of her headlamp solidly pointed into the shadows ahead.
"We know there are unmapped sections considerably deeper, but the teams didn't go further than the lockstone chamber. "
"Solid life choice," Asher says.
The tunnel is wide enough that we don't have to bunch together. The walls are rough-cut and old, fitted stone in some places and bare rock in others.
Wylder's light picks up the glittering texture of it, as well as long horizontal lines where something was once cut through.
The first fork comes into view, and I check the map as Freya points left.
We follow her direction.
As we progress, I watch the map, keeping a mental idea of where we are based on what we’re seeing.
I slow when we reach the edge of what the Order team has been able to map out. “Okay, guys. This next section is part of the daily mystery. Everyone be ready for anything.”
“What deterrents did your teams already come across?” Orion asks from the center of the group. “What are we looking for?”
Freya stops, panning her headlamp along the left wall, across the ceiling, then down the right wall, and finishes by illuminating the packed earth and stone grit of the passageway floor.
“Well, a paralytic powder pushed out of a crevice in the stone and took down one of our guys. A false floor dropped another into a bed of spikes. And the last injury was a volley of poisoned darts.”
“Brutal,” Rowan grumbles behind me. “Is everyone okay?”
“Mostly, though the lad that triggered the darts saved his face by throwing his hands up. The nasty things went right through his hands and severed two fingers. There’s not much a healer can do about that.”
I guess not.
Wylder shakes his head. “Shields up. Orion, take the front. Your wild side has the keenest senses. Rowan, you’re on shadow watch.”
I cast a protective shield around us, and Freya gives me a smile. “Asher, if you see anything coming for anyone, portal them back to the entrance.”
Asher arches a brow at me. “My priority is you, but if you’re not in immediate danger, I’ll do my best.”
I frown. “I get that you feel that way, but no one is expendable.”
“Agree to disagree, Pops. The Goddess Mother wouldn’t have put me on Poppy patrol if she wasn’t serious about you surviving what’s coming at us.”
“The Goddess Mother?” Freya’s eyebrows rise so high that they disappear beneath her bangs.
“It’s a long story,” I say.
“One that can wait until we’re sitting in a pub having a pint,” Wylder adds.
Agreed.
Orion’s massive white tiger pads between Wylder and me, and he gives me a little hip check. I sink my fingers into the fur at his shoulders and chuckle. “Yeah, yeah. Out of your way. We’ll let you do your thing.”
Freya’s intake of breath has my smile widening. “I mentioned he was a shifter.”
She swallows. “You did. I’ve just never worked with a white tiger before.”
Orion’s tail swings with a little extra swish. “Yes, you’re from a very rare and powerful bloodline. Now, do your thing and make sure we’re safe. I want us all leaving here with all our fingers and toes.”
“How morbid is it that that’s our high bar?” Rowan asks, sliding past me.
“Yeah, well, we go with what we’ve got.”
Rowan snorts, gesturing to Freya’s forehead. “Do you mind pointing that somewhere else? It kind of negates everything I am and my shadow manipulation offers.”
She tilts the lamp so the beam angles up toward the ceiling. “Have at it.”
It takes time before Orion and Rowan have worked their way to the other end of the corridor, discovered nothing deadly, and are waiting for us fifty feet ahead.
Wylder gives my hand a squeeze. “I’ll go first. Stay close. Just because they didn’t trigger anything doesn’t mean there’s nothing there.”
I kiss his cheek. “Got it. Safe travels.”
He winks at me. “You, too, Hallowind.”
Once he’s picking his way down the hallway, I study the ground. And what do you know? It looks like ground.
It’s nothing but dirt, stone, grit, and the occasional crack running along the seam between fitted slabs.
No big deal.
I move forward slowly, each footfall deliberate, watching the surface for any shift or change of material or any give under my weight.
The others follow at the same pace. Ten careful steps, fifteen, and then I take another step and the ground under my foot falls away.
Wylder turns, and his eyes flare wide. “Poppy!”
I jerk backward fast, one sharp step, and Asher's free hand catches my elbow without hesitation. He pulls me against his chest and steadies me, his heart hammering against my cheek. “Got you.”
“Thanks, sweetie.” I give him a quick squeeze, then turn back to assess what happened.
There’s a hole in the floor where stone and dirt should be. It starts a few feet ahead of my toes and drops into a dark abyss. It’s not gradual, just gone.
Freya and Henrik catch up to us, and the light from her headlamp stretches down but doesn't find a bottom.
"That is a very deep hole," Henrik says quietly.
Freya kneels at the edge, inspecting the lip of the drop. "Definitely deeper than makes any logical sense.”
“Oh, the joys of magic,” Asher deadpans.
"There are symbols here." I move to the right wall, where the light in Henrik’s palm hits a section of carved marks.
“Those were definitely not there a minute ago,” Wylder says.