Chapter 3
At least ten streaks of lightning zigzagged into the earth in a ring around me, the light so bright my arms flew up instinctively to cover my drenched face. The screeching sound they made penetrated my skull so deeply I felt dizzy with fear.
I had to get somewhere safe, somewhere the lightning couldn't get me.
I blinked, trying to clear the light from my vision, but the only thing I could see in the empty meadow was the cave mouth.
It was set into a little mound not more than three feet high, with stone steps leading down into the earth just barely visible in the darkness.
Surely that's where he wanted me to go? Which meant it was the last place I should be considering. Another boom of thunder echoed around me and my terrified body jumped in fright.
I couldn't stay where I was, I decided, and pushed my sodden hair back from my face as I ran for the cave.
I ducked low as I stepped into the darkness, welcoming the instant relief from the rain.
Panting from running and shouting, I sat down hard on the top step, looking out over the meadow as I tried to organize my crashing thoughts.
My hands were shaking and my mouth felt dry, and I knew adrenaline was surging through me.
This couldn't be happening, I asserted mentally, screwing my face up.
I must have had some sort of nervous breakdown, or a stroke or something.
Maybe I'd been hit by a car? Clearly a gorgeous guy who could control lightning hadn't just magicked me into a meadow and blasted electricity at me to get me to go into a cave.
Clearly. Because that would be batshit crazy. Next-level crazy.
I took a deep breath, and began to wring out my long dark hair.
It sure was wet for a hallucination. I patted my purse, though the gesture was more out of habit than anything useful.
My cell phone had no battery. And who was I going to call anyway?
I was probably lying on 6th Avenue unconscious, or with any luck in the back of an ambulance by now.
Hopefully the medics would charge up my phone and find my brother's number.
He would sort this out. Sam was good at sorting stuff out.
I took another long breath. I was starting to feel better. There was no way on earth this was real. I wasn't in a cave, in a meadow, being hounded by a man made of lightning. I couldn't be.
And if this was all a dream then it couldn't hurt to take a look around.
After all, if I was in a coma or some shit, then I might be here for a while.
Channeling my new-found confidence through my body, I stood up, surprised at how shaky my hallucinated legs felt. And how cold my hallucinated skin was.
It's obviously a very intense hallucination, I thought, squinting into the darkness below me. Those happened all the time, didn't they?
I put a wobbly, wet sneaker out in front of me, and carefully took a step further into the cave, my socks squelching. Great. What were the chances of there being a laundromat at the bottom of these steps, I wondered? To be fair, if I was dreaming the whole thing, then probably quite high.
Maybe I could conjure up some other nice things to be waiting for me at the bottom, I thought, taking another step into the darkness. Maybe a lemon drizzle cake. Or a series of hot guys in dirty overalls, and a shower big enough for them all.
Before long, I was ten steps down, and my eyes were adjusting to the lack of light. The stone steps were worn and uneven, so I was moving slowly, but they seemed to go on and on.
After another ten minutes my fantasies about the filthy mechanics were struggling to occupy my mind. Down I went, desperately clinging to happy thoughts as the panic deep in my gut tried to crawl its way up into my throat. Where the hell was I going?
I could swear it was getting warmer, although that could have been because I was drying off and moving. Or perhaps it was the anxiety making me hot. Anxiety always made me hot.
After what felt like an hour, but was probably closer to fifteen minutes of putting one soggy foot in front of another and moving deeper and deeper into the earth, I finally saw a flicker of light ahead of me. Blue light.
I hurried my pace, still taking care on the dodgy steps, but keen to find out what in the world could be causing flickering blue light.
Maybe it was the ambulance lights, wherever my body really was, leaking into my hallucination. My breathing quickened as the steps rounded a bend. Sconces lined the rocky walls at intervals, each holding a torch burning with blue fire.
“What the...” I murmured, holding my hand hesitantly up to one of them, and drawing it back quickly as I felt the fierce heat. Well, I thought, raising my eyebrows, impressed. Maybe my brain was capable of more imagination than I'd been giving it credit for. I wonder what else is down here?
I didn't have to go much further before the steps leveled out, turning into a long flat corridor lined with more torches.
I walked faster once I was on safer ground, looking up at the tunnel roof periodically.
I wasn't claustrophobic, but when underground it seemed sensible to check the earth above your head was stable once in a while.
I walked for about a mile before I reached a closed wooden door, carved with what looked like ancient Greek letters, all glowing the same blue as the torches on the walls.
I reached out for the iron ring in the middle and pulled hesitantly.
The door didn't budge. I pulled harder, dreading the thought of having to go back up all those steps, back into the stormy meadow.
The door didn't move even a millimeter, and I snarled as I dropped the ring in frustration.
It thudded against the wood and then bounced twice, the knocks ringing out loudly in the narrow chamber.
I froze, the noise unexpected and unnerving. A slow creak sounded, and I took a quick step back from the door. It was swinging open.
If I'd thought my imagination had done well with blue fire, then it deserved a freaking award for the woman stood in front of me.
She was pale-skinned and wearing skin-tight black leather from head to foot, showing a hell of a lot of cleavage.
Jet black hair run through with hundreds of tiny tight silver plaits was pulled up in a high ponytail, which showed the intricate black pattern tattooed on the shaved bottom half of her skull.
Silver jewelry covered her ears, wrists and hands, all of it sharp.
Earrings like daggers hung down from her lobes, and she wore finger sheaths that ended in gleaming claw-like points.
A shining tiara set with a single black stone was wrapped around her forehead, which drew attention to her most remarkable feature of all.
She had no pupils. Her eyes were pure white.
“Welcome to hell,” she said, with a grin.