AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I do.” He slowly pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket. “She gave me this to hold for her…she was crying over the fact that Leo and Geoffrey were out there. I took it to hold for her…and never had the chance to give it back.”
The look on his face said everything that needed to be said. Ysandra took the lace cloth and waited for Peyton to stand back, then slowly begin to shimmer into her Were form. I’d seen her change before—when we rescued her from Myst—and it still mesmerized me. As her limbs lengthened and her skin took on fur, the cougar that emerged from the shifting bands of light was sleek, muscled, and glorious. She let out a huff and padded over to Ysandra.
Ysandra held out the handkerchief. Peyton took a long whiff of it, grumbled a bit, and then turned and began investigating the openings to each passageway. After a moment, she paused by one of the middle ones and looked back at us, then headed down the corridor. We followed, Check, Grieve, and Chatter at the front, along with four of the guards, and the rest at the back.
The hallway was brick—the entire building seemed to be brick—and it ran along smooth, with no sign of any openings until we’d gone a good seventy-five feet; then there were two doors at the end, one to either side, and a door in front. Peyton sniffed at the left door, then the right, then stopped in front of the center one, waiting.
Ysandra incanted a spell. After a moment, she shook her head. “I don’t think there are any traps, but I can’t be sure.” She kept her voice low.
Check motioned to one of his men, who cautiously turned the handle. Locked, he mouthed.
I motioned for him to move. This was one area where my years on the streets would come in handy. Examining the lock, I realized it was older—probably from when the theater first opened. A warded one, which meant it would be easier to pick than some of the more modern types.
“Ysandra, give me one of your hairpins.”
She pulled one out of the intricate braid and handed the stiff metal pin to me. I bent the end into a crook, then inserted it in the keyhole. Jiggling it counterclockwise, I eased it around, avoiding the ward, until I felt it catch, and then I eased it back as the latch slowly slid open. With a click, the door was ready. And so were we.
I stepped back, letting Check go first with a couple of his men. I really didn’t like hanging back, as much as going ahead scared the crap out of me, but there wasn’t much use fretting about it, because I knew Check and Grieve were right. I was Queen now, and I owed it to the Eldburry Burrow and the people of my court to stay as safe as I could.
They pushed through, with Peyton at the lead. She snuffled and sniffed, her nose against the floor as she searched for the scent. The sleekness of her haunches mesmerized me; she was beautiful, muscled and taut. Her eyes, the rich brown they were when she was in her two-legged form, were haunted. She might be young, as far as half-Weres go, but she had seen a lot of life, and I had the feeling there was more in Peyton’s background than she had told anybody.
We moved in behind the guards as they began their trek down the hallway, following Peyton. This hall sloped up at a slight angle, like an aisle between theater rows, and the runner that lined the center of the floor was old and faded. I paused, kneeling down by a brownish spot. Though it was old, I knew immediately it was blood. Dried blood, long past its time. There had been violence here at one point, though of what nature we couldn’t know.
We were more cautious now, moving as silently as we could, because there were doors along the side—widely spaced and not clustered together. The chance that there could be someone on the other side was too great to risk making noise.
We continued up, following the curving hallway. It reminded me of the theaters where a central cinema or stage was flanked on both sides by hallways, leading the patrons to the various sections of the gallery.
By my estimation, we were too far belowground still for the Abby Theater’s main galleria. As far as I knew, there had never been any rumor of an underground performance area. And by the looks of the carpet runner and the flaking paint on the walls, this section had to be as old as the theater itself. Grieve and Chatter wouldn’t know anything about it, but maybe Luna might.
“Luna, do you remember if the Abby Theater had an underground stage? Because there’s no way we’re near street level, yet look at the way the hall curves around the inner wall.”
She followed my gesture. “I see what you mean. But no, I don’t ever remember there being mention of an underground level. In fact, I don’t…no, there was never any mention of it. I used to sing onstage here when I was with the Youth Symphony. All the changing rooms, the prop rooms—they’re all at street level. And I don’t remember any staircases going down, either.”
I wanted to stop, to take a look behind some of the doors, but we didn’t have time, and with Peyton hot on the trail, we couldn’t afford to break pace. I steadied my nerves and tried to quiet my curiosity.
“Do you know what time it is?”
Luna pulled out her phone and checked. “Five minutes till four. We have twenty-five minutes. Cicely, we may be in trouble.”
If we didn’t find Geoffrey and Leo and stake them soon, we were going to be in trouble. Even if we only found Rhia and could get her out of here before they woke, that would be fine. But the feeling in the pit of my gut warned me we might not be so lucky.
As we rounded yet another bend in the ever-ascending hallway, we came to a door to the left side. Peyton stopped, suddenly, stiffening as she stared at it, her head bobbing uncertainly at first, and then she padded over to it, sniffed again, gave a huff, and began to transform back into her normal self. The beautiful, sleek animal vanished as the regal native woman returned.
She motioned to me and we stepped off to the side. I handed her clothing to her as she began to dress.
“She’s in there. I can smell her there. There are others with her, yummanii by their scents. I have no clue if any vamps are there.” She shimmied into her jeans and zipped them, then fastened her bra and pulled on her shirt. “We have to hurry—it’s getting late, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, it’s later than you think.” I motioned to the door. “Check, we don’t have time to mess around anymore. Head on in.”
Check burst open the door and we poured in, en masse, in hopes of overwhelming whoever was on the other side.
The room was wide and long, and now I realized where the dungeon was that Rhia had been filmed in. The redbrick wall with the net covering it was to our right, and the various play toys—the spanking bench, stocks, and bondage table—were meticulously placed around the room. The walls were redbrick, and long curtains hung in panels—drapes of red and black velvet and satin. The ceiling was a good fifteen feet high, and the acrid odor of incense filled the air. I could have sworn there was a drug in it. The scent was intoxicating and heady, but I managed to keep a handle on my senses.
There were five men in the room, but they looked to be in a stupor, and at first I thought this was going to be easy. We could stun them, grab Rhia, and run. If we could find her. As I looked around, I first thought Peyton must have been mistaken, because she was nowhere in sight. But then I heard a noise and glanced up to see a cage hanging about eight feet off the ground, and in that cage, Rhiannon was hunched over, sobbing.
“Rhia!” I couldn’t help it—I called out her name and she stiffened, then clutched the bars, staring out the side of the cage.
At my outburst, the men definitely noticed us, struggling to get to their feet. But Check and the guards wasted no time, wading right in. Within moments, all five of the yummanii had been stunned and were out cold. Check crouched, then leaped up, grabbing hold of the cage, as he climbed atop it.
