Chapter 18 #2
The hum reminded him of standing in the middle of the substation where he’d done part of his electrical engineering internship, back before he’d decided he hated playing with high voltage.
There, the sound was caused by a transformer’s core windings vibrating in response to alternating magnetic fields.
What the hell would do that out here? None of the turbine components had been installed yet; the civil side of the project hadn’t even been completed.
He rested his palms flat against the shaft’s gritty surface and frowned, a discernible difference between the two. His left hand trembled, the turbulence beneath it coming from beyond. On the right, the flow was dampened, like there was an obstruction.
His brow furrowed as he slid his hands along the wall. The turbulence in his right hand kicked up, then muted beneath his left hand after about eighteen inches.
He slid his palms up, and they both hit a dead spot.
He traced along it, out and then down, the area forming a grid.
That had to be from the rebar embedded in the precast. Chase stepped back, picking his lip.
From what he remembered, that was supposed to be a composite fiber, but if Chambers had cut corners, and they’d used carbon steel on the sly—
Christ. Carbon steel was like ninety-eight percent iron. What a fucking idiot. If Chambers had planted a shit ton of that smack dab in the middle of the leyline—iron repelled magic. No wonder the coven was losing its shit.
And no wonder the leyline’s hum was pissy as fuck. Iron was supposed to be to magic what silver was to weres. Going through a sieve of something that felt like taking an acid bath wouldn’t be his first choice either.
No way would Chambers get reelected if it got out that he’d signed off on this. The town would lynch him. God, was he actually that stupid? Chase snorted. More like greedy, and the coven was right. There was no way the leyline was flowing to Fayet like it was supposed to be.
Jesus, what if that’s why relations with their pack were so bad?
If Havers was starving out their practitioners, it was a distinct possibility, and the more he thought about it, the more it sounded like Chambers wasn’t the only asshole.
Chase’s father had probably been whispering in the mayor’s ear, turning this bullshit to his advantage.
Well, him or Patrick. What a goddamned clusterfuck.
Chase scrubbed his face, no idea how you would even go about putting something of this magnitude to rights. At least not without one hell of a crane and bankrupting the town in the process.
He sighed and sat back down, his sodden jeans chafing and his stomach rumbling.
Chase stared into the darkness, his brain going reno on him.
The cement tubes didn’t actually matter, but how would you get rid of all that encased metal, short of ripping everything out?
The only things he could think of that broke down iron were time, oxygen, and water.
Although…electricity might be able to do it.
He scratched his jaw, his stubble officially edging in on beard territory.
The hum around him ticked up as he settled back against the wall, the lines of rebar glowing in his mind’s eye.
The concrete was already wet, dampness permeating the structure.
A charge—electrodes positioned at the top to create a battery—could work as an electron pump to degrade the metal…
Too bad the lines for the substation hadn’t been run yet.
There wasn’t a chance of getting enough voltage out here to do a damned thing.
Chase reached down and picked up a handful of gravel, chucking rocks and listening to them plink and plop as it began to rain again.
Much more of that, and he’d be in here up to his waist—
He flinched as something slapped down against the wall from above. His pulse surged. What the fuck was that? He stared into the darkness for a good minute before getting up and tentatively reaching out—
A thick, knotted rope hung against the side of the tube. His fingers closed around damp nylon, and he wet his lips, squinting up into the darkness. “Hello?”
No one answered.
Well, then it hadn’t been Patrick. Shithead would’ve definitely felt the need to run his mouth.
Malcom on the other hand…did he trust it?
Chase reached up and tugged, then leaned back and yanked on the rope with all his weight.
Seemed secure. He ran a hand over his face.
If it wasn’t and let go after the halfway point, there was a really good chance he wouldn’t be getting out at all.
But staying here when he had an out wasn’t an option.
He began to climb, weaker than he’d like after being at the bottom of this fucking pit for almost a day.
By the time he hit the foundation’s rim, his arms were shaking and his legs were on fire.
The extra weight from his soaked clothes dragged at him, and his palms and the inside of his knees where he’d shinnied up were raw.
He gritted his teeth and hefted himself up and over the concrete lip, collapsing into the mud.
Fuck, that’d hurt. Chase panted, cold rain pelting down on him.
The sky was just beginning to lighten in the east. He flexed his hands, the mangled flesh taking its sweet time to knit together.
Combating hypothermia and whatever funk was festering in the water down there was probably taking up what little resources he had.
He needed to find shelter and something to eat—preferably a steak—to kickstart his metabolism.
His wolf whined, and Chase clambered to his feet, glancing at where the rope had been secured.
Shit, that was a bowline knot, and there was only one person he knew that could pull something like that out of his back pocket.
Chase raised his head, scanning the landscape for his younger brother, Luke.
Didn’t look like he’d stuck around, and Chase couldn’t blame him.
He untied it and let it drop into the shaft.
Kid had taken a huge risk coming out here, Chase didn’t need to leave the evidence for Malcom to find.
Damn. Chase dashed the rain from his eyes, looking toward town.
Jena. He needed to get to Jena.
Chase staggered toward the fence’s gate and shouldered through, the padlock gone.
He stumbled, falling against the chain-link, the hum of generators coming from Sunnyside.
A laugh burbled up his throat. His mother was gonna be pissed about that.
She had a fit whenever they lost power and not having it to get ready for the festival? Her and Sue had to be having a bird.
He started down the far side of the hill, staggering away from the bougie neighborhood and toward town at a slow jog, trying not to smack into anything.
His wolf was oddly subdued, and after what he’d seen in the bottom of the tube, he didn’t trust himself to shift.
Luckily, there was only about a mile and a half of woods, and then he’d hit the residential neighborhood outside of town.
Twenty minutes—His boots slipped out from under him, and he stumbled to his knees, his shoulder slamming into a tree.
He yelped, seeing stars as it about dislocated.
Christ, that’d hurt—okay thirty…ish…maybe forty minutes.
Fuck, he’d be lucky to get there in an hour, but he would, damn it.
He blew out a breath and grimaced, gripping his shoulder as he got to his feet and headed for town.