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Five minutes passed. Six… I was about to suggest we head out without him when he came rustling back with the pitter-patter of little bony feet. Rodney slid inside the room.
“I found them. The cells. And there are four women and one man there. Those bitches look cold and dirty, by the way. Their cells aren’t the Holiday Express Hotel, and there’s a lot of shit on the floor and, bitch”—he turned to Morio—“I mean that literally.”
Morio looked over at me. “We have five people to rescue, then, as Rozurial thought we might.”
“One more thing—I didn’t see no fucking hellhounds or pretty boys in black leather, but there’s something there. I could sense it. Don’t even bother to ask what because that is not my job. I’m not a pay-for-play psychic.” Rodney leered at Camille—and yes, bone golems can leer. “I’d pay to play you, though, Boobette.”
Morio swept him up and shook the crap out him. “One. More. Comment. To. My. Wife. Just one more…” He set the bone golem down again, and this time, Rodney kept his eyes—or what passed for them—to himself.
Camille snorted as Rodney cracked his neck back into place. “That something could be anything. Did you see anything, or just sense it?”
“Just sensed it.” Rodney muttered something under his breath but quickly stopped when Morio leaned down to stare at him. “What? I’m not saying nuthin’ . . .”
“Precisely. Now grow. We need you full size. There have been too many dangers tonight. We need more firepower and we don’t have time to summon anyone else. Chances are we’ll never make it in again after they discover the breach in their security. But remember: One misstep and—”
“I’m bone dust. Bag o’ bones. Graveyard fodder. Sparkly like a pony. I know, I know.” Rodney let out an exasperated sigh.
As we watched, he began to grow to full size. This was one ability none of us were comfortable with, but there was little we could do about it. So we made use of it whenever possible, or when we could stand to have the freak around.
As he stood there, gleaming ivory bones the size of a grown man, it struck me how odd our lives had become. We were steeped in death—all around us—from losing friends, to relying on perverted bone golems, to fighting zombies, to dealing with our own personal paths. I was a vampire—one of the undead. Delilah was pledged to one of the Harvestmen—a harbinger of death. And Camille was a Dark Moon Priestess and a practitioner of death magic. We’d all strayed down the dark alley so far that there was no going back. And that… that was okay.
“I guess then we head out?” I moved to the lead, stopping beside Rodney. “You come up front with me and Rozurial. And no funny stuff, no jokes, no butt pinches or boob grabs. Got it?”
“Color me a rainbow and poop sparkle turds. Yeah, I got it.”
“Then, Delilah and Tanne, you take second flank. Camille and Morio, third, and Smoky, watch our backs, dude.”
“Will do, Captain Menolly. Lead on.” The dragon saluted me, but there was a twinkle in his eye that told me he had no intention of trying to take over. In fact, all our lovers let us lead. They might offer suggestions and sweep in to save the day now and then, but they knew we three were at the foremost helm of this little war, and they gave us all the space and freedom we needed to make our decisions. And for that, I was ever grateful.
“Okay, then. Let’s get a move on, and let’s go rescue those prisoners.”
“I just hope one of them is Violet,” Tanne whispered behind me.
I turned to him. “I hope so, too,” I said. “I hope so, too.”
Chapter 14
As Rodney led us through the hall, it ran through my mind that if the golem could sense a dangerous energy, then whatever it was had to be strong. Rodney wasn’t the brightest bulb in the psychic socket, and he’d never been one to be sensitive in any other direction either.
The area we were in looked like it had been tunneled long after Underground Seattle had come to be, but it wasn’t new or fresh. I wondered who had originally built it, and why? Had it been Lowestar, or had the original architect been up to some other low-life project?
The walls were cool and slightly damp, and they were shored up by a dark brick façade. Whether it was dirt or stone beneath the wall, I didn’t know and it didn’t really matter. The floor was smooth, and I thought it might be concrete. Lights—electric and dim—ran the length of the corridor.
We hurried, making quick time. We’d been lucky since we killed off the guards back at the secret entrance, but who knew how long that luck would hold up?
As we rounded a corner, Rodney pointed to the passageway that unfolded in front of us. “There are your cells.”
Along the tunnel, on either side, were iron-barred cells. They were dank, and Camille and Delilah coughed. I deliberately inhaled, and the smell of feces and urine, of mold and decay, filled my lungs.
“Great Bastus… I’ve been here before.” Delilah quickly began to move forward, not touching the bars but looking through them. “I was here when I was in Gerald’s mind—when I saw the girl sitting in the cell. And—there she is!”
We hurried forward, but not before I noticed another woman in the cell next to hers. The woman looked up at me, and in the depths of the despair on her face, a hope blossomed. Hell yes, we had to get them all out.
I stared at the iron bars, willing them to break open. Of course, they didn’t. But Smoky moved to the front, with Morio beside him. They motioned the rest of us aside, and Morio took his demon shape. Smokey took hold of one bar, Morio took hold of the one next to it, and they pulled, their muscles straining against the heavy iron bars. I wanted to help, too, but the bars were unalloyed iron, pure and harmful to me. Even though I’d heal, it would be a nasty burn to my hands since my half-Fae nature still ran within my veins.
The bars groaned as they bent, resisting the call to open. And then, a moment later, a siren pierced the air.
“Fuck! Alarm!” I turned, readying myself for a fight.
