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“I don’t like it,” Roz said. “We’ve snuck into places before—like the place with the venidemons—”
“Excuse me,” I said, “but you did not sneak into that house. From what I heard, you barged in, tore through the joint, and ended up alerting every creature that was there. For this operation, we require subtlety. You three remain on watch and use your common sense.” I gave them a second look and shook my head. “Whatever scraps you can scare up between the lot of you.”
We climbed out of the car and headed toward the frat house, keeping to the shadows. Somehow, Smoky managed to hide, even with his brilliant white clothes. Of course, the Moon was nearing full, splashing her light on everything and everybody around.
We skirted the house, looking for any way in from the outside other than the front door. After a moment Roz pointed to the left side of the back porch. A door led beneath the porch steps. Bingo.
“Okay, you guys keep your eyes open and stay out of sight.” I quietly opened the door and peeked in. The cubbyhole was about ten inches taller than me at its highest, right against the house. I motioned for Delilah to watch her head, then slipped into the opening. She followed suit and closed the door behind her.
While neither of us could actually see in the dark, our natures made us much more attuned to dim light. A splash of moonlight washed through the steps, and in the silver glow, the broken beams showed us the outline of another door, this one leading directly beneath the house.
I tugged at it. There was a padlock holding it shut. I was about to break it when Delilah held up her hand. She pulled out a playing card-sized case from her pocket and quickly picked the lock. Opening the door, I slipped through, and she followed me.
While I’d expected to find a typical crawl space, I hadn’t counted on an opening in the floor that was obviously well-used. An attached ladder offered access, and I peeked down into the hole to find it led to a tunnel, approximately ten feet down. The tunnel appeared empty, so we scrambled down the rungs.
Two strings of Christmas tree lights ran along the passage, one near the ceiling, which was about seven feet high, and the other near the floor, which was compacted dirt that had been covered with wood planks.
I hesitated, motioning for Delilah to stand still, then listened as hard as I could. Delilah was listening, too; her ears had perked up, and her eyes were closed. She was probably smelling the air, too. Together we made a good team, though Camille with her sense of all things magical didn’t hurt us any, either.
“You hear anything?” I whispered.
Delilah shook her head. “No. Nothing.”
I nodded. “Okay, then. Let’s get a move on.” I cautiously made sure that I kept to the wooden boards. Who knew what was hiding in the crannies between them? Viro-mortis slimes made their home in the area. And there were other creatures—not all necessarily magical—that could pack a punch. Hobo spiders for one thing, and rats.
As we picked our way along the tunnel, I wondered how long this had been here. Harold may have taken over the house four or five years ago, but the tunnel itself—even the wood used to make the walkway—looked far older. The dirt walls were hardened, compacted in a way that only time could produce.
As if reading my mind, Delilah whispered, “I can sense age here. Age and . . . death. A lot of death.” She shivered. “I don’t like this, Menolly. There’s been a lot of pain soaked into the land here. Camille could probably feel it more than I can, but it’s so strong that it practically reeks.”
I closed my eyes, trying to sense what she was talking about. Usually, I drew a blank, but this time a few things did filter in: energies I was familiar with. The scent of spilled blood—both old and fresh. The ripple of Demonkin energy in the air. The subtle flow of a breeze that told me we were headed for a large chamber where the air was circulating.
“Come on,” I said, motioning to her. We descended along the sloping passage. I tried to estimate how far belowground we were. We had to be at least fifteen to twenty feet below the house, but I had the feeling we hadn’t reached the bottom. How was the foundation staying put? Or was this like some cockeyed basement?
The tunnel came to a halt at a T. It turned to the left and then curved toward the right, spiraling down like a conch shell. I looked to the left and, remembering the layout of the house on the lot, figured that it would take us under the street in front of the house.
“Sewer?” Delilah whispered.
Of course! I motioned for her to stay put and jogged down the tunnel, only to find myself facing a door. I cautiously opened it just a crack, and sure enough, the smell of sewage filtered through. A glance toward the roof showed rungs leading up to . . . yep . . . a manhole. So this part of the tunnel gave them access to the streets from below.
I hurried back to where Delilah was waiting and reported my findings to her.
“But why would they need it? Why not just use the front door?” she asked.
“Maybe they don’t need to use it. Maybe whoever lived here before had some reason for it? It occurs to me that it would make the perfect way for a predator to come and go. Maybe a serial killer.”
Delilah shivered. “I don’t like that thought. This group is bad enough.”
“Yeah, well, remember their families contained a number of members, all belonging to Dante’s Hellions.” I wondered how far back this whole setup went into Harold Young’s family traditions. His uncle had owned the house and Harold had to learn those demonic rites from somebody. Somehow, I didn’t think years of playing Dungeons & Dragons or Diablo had been of much use in that department.
I motioned to the right, and we headed down the spiral. Delilah reached out and touched my arm.
“One minute. My cell phone’s on vibrate, and I’m getting a call. I can’t believe it’s working down here. They must have some sort of technical setup to receive calls belowground.” She answered, speaking in low tones. “Yeah, we’re fine. So far, so good.” She quickly described where we were, and I realized that either Smoky or Roz had called her. After a moment she hung up. “Smoky. Wants to know why we haven’t checked in.”
“Oh good gods, he really does consider himself our big brother,” I said, grimacing.
Delilah laughed softly. “Actually, I kind of like it.”
“Yeah, you would.” I flashed her a grin. “Okay, let’s go find out what’s at the end of these stairs.”
