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“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.”
We coiled downward, the tunnel now a true circular stairwell, the shaft dug straight out of the dirt. As we came to the end, I could see a metal door leading into what was probably another tunnel.
By now, I’d lost track of how far we were beneath the ground, but the airflow seemed fairly brisk, so the place had to be well-ventilated. I glanced up at the ceiling, looking for vents. Sure enough, running along the wall, spaced every ten feet or so on the way up, ran a series of ducts. Whoever had built this underground lair had been serious. And they must have had money.
I paused at the bottom of the stairs and quickly stepped back against the side of the wall. Delilah joined me. We waited, listening. In the distance, the faint cadence of voices rose and fell. I couldn’t tell just how far away they were, but I was ready to assume they were up to no good and therefore worthy of caution. I pressed my ear against the door then, but nothing filtered in from directly on the other side. With a glance at Delilah, who nodded her head, I carefully turned the wheel and opened the door a whisper.
A silent wash of air rushed past us, and I peeked through. The tunnel I had been imagining wasn’t there.
Instead, I found myself staring at the metal walls of an underground complex. Faint lights—like the Christmas tree ones, only round—ran along the ceiling in two strings. The corridor led straight ahead, and I could see doors spaced along the wall farther down.
Shit. We’d landed in something big, all right. Or something that had been big. It was hard to tell which. Whatever the case, the echo of voices from up ahead—faint but definite—told us that the place hadn’t been abandoned. And whatever those voices were chanting gave me the creeps.
Delilah tapped me on the shoulder. She nodded to the hallway, and I shrugged. We’d come this far. We might as well take a look at what the Dante’s Hellions were up to.
CHAPTER 20
The chanting was either in Latin or some other archaic language, and the sounds of medieval instruments joined in the harmony. As the music wove through the hallways, it pulled me in. The melody echoed through the halls like a haunted drumbeat, and the voices set me on edge.
Delilah leaned toward me, her breathing rapid and shallow. “I don’t like this.”
“Hold tight, Kitten. We can’t afford for you to transform here,” I whispered. “You’d bolt, and I’d never find you.” She looked on the verge of shifting, and the thought of a twelve-pound golden tabby by my side didn’t bode well for a fight. Not the best battle companion.
“I know. It’s the music. I can feel it penetrating my body, like mist on an autumn night.” She shivered.
I took hold of her hand and squeezed. She smiled faintly.
“Let’s go just a little farther down the corridor and see what we can find out,” I suggested.
There was nowhere to hide from here on out. We’d have to dart down the corridor and hope nobody saw us. I pointed to the first door on the left. “Let’s try for that room. We can hide in there if we hear somebody coming.” I just hoped the room was empty, or we’d be paying one hell of a surprise visit to somebody.
We dashed, racing silently for the door. I paused just long enough to press my ear to the steel but heard nothing. I swung the door open. As we stepped in, the darkness was so thick it clouded my sight, but at least I couldn’t sense anybody else in here with us nor see any heat signatures. The room smelled musty, old, and unused.
I closed the door softly as Delilah slid in behind me and waited a beat . . . two beats. No sound. “You have a flashlight?”
She didn’t answer, but within seconds, the pen-sized flashlight she kept on her keychain cut a swath into the darkness. It wasn’t a regular-sized torch, by any stretch of the imagination, but it was stronger than the dime-store variety. We glanced around the room. So far, so good. Nobody stirring.
And then Delilah froze, her beam capturing the far wall in its glow. There were three sets of manacles on the walls, and a body hung from one set of manacles. The others were empty, but beneath an empty set lay a pile of dust and some clothing.
“Oh shit. Oh no,” I said as we slowly approached. I knelt by the clothing, and Delilah flashed the light in my direction. Jeans, a pretty red blouse. Women’s clothing, about a size eight. As I shifted the cloth around, ashes scattered from the folds of the material. I knew exactly what kind of ashes they were.
“Vampire. They had a vampire chained in here, and they dusted her.” And I’d bet my fangs on who it had been.
I turned my attention to the other body. She was naked and long dead. Partially mummified, she’d been an elf. And she’d been petite, pretty, and in pain—that much was clear from the expression on her face. A few of her fingers were missing, roughly chopped off, and a gaping hole in her chest gave me the shivers. As I gazed at the weathered skin and features, my heart dropped.
“Oh great Bastus.” Delilah must have been thinking along the same lines I had. “Sabele?”
I nodded. “We can’t know for sure, not yet. But . . . yeah, I think so. And that—” I pointed to the pile of ashes. “That was Claudette, the vampire Chase told me was missing. Dante’s Hellions have just crossed the line from wing nuts to murderers.” I examined Sabele’s body. “They took her heart. It’s missing.”
