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Nobody spoke—we didn’t want to chance giving ourselves away—but we already knew what we were going to do. The broom closet that led to the hidden levels was one floor up, not on the main floor but a subfloor. We headed up to level S-1, taking the stairs rather than the elevator. There was no telling if the elevators had hidden cameras in them, and now was not the time to find out.
Level S-1 had an employee break room and several conference rooms on it. And the maintenance room. But… there to the right of the janitor’s closet was a narrow door. And that was our goal.
It was locked, of course. I just hoped nobody else was running late and would catch us in the act. From everything we knew about rituals—and Camille and Morio had performed a lot of them—most large-scale operations required an extensive setup period. Which meant, we were hoping, that everybody who needed to be downstairs in the temple room was already there.
Tanne motioned us back. He leaned over and began whispering to the lock. Again the incantation sounded like a low trill as he persuaded the lock to release and open. Another moment, and a soft click sounded, and the door sprang ajar. He quietly pushed it all the way open, and we were looking into a small, square room. No stairs. No nothing.
But Morio motioned for me to move to the side, and he stepped into the room, said something—he, too, barely whispered the words—and the outline of a door appeared. There was a handle, but no obvious lock.
“I’m not sensing any traps.” Morio reached for the handle. “I’ll bet if there were any, he had to disarm them to make sure nobody who was supposed to be down there set one off by accident.”
That made sense. But I stopped him.
“Let me go first. And Smoky. You get back with Camille and start prepping whatever spells it is you guys prep.”
“We can encircle the group with protection, but that would mean we’d have to take time to regroup if we need to fight.” He glanced around at the others. “You all willing to go in without our force field?”
“Better to have you guys on the offense, rather than worry about a little defense.” Vanzir held up his sword. It was a wicked little number, and it was barbed. When it thrust into someone, the barbs slid in smoothly, then flared out at the push of a button, making the return damned nasty.
With a deep breath, I looked at Smoky. He nodded, and I opened the door.
We found ourselves staring at a steep, spiral stairway. It wasn’t metal—but simple, concrete, spiraling down a pale cream-colored passageway. Brightly lit, it wasn’t at all what you would think of in terms of a hidden passage leading to an underground temple. But then, Lowestar was a pretty classy daemon when it came to style. I doubted he’d want anything remotely gothic. No cobwebs, no dust, no doom-and-gloom stone walls dripping with slime and moisture.
But the trouble with concrete stairs in a stairwell? They’re going to echo, no matter what you do. Still, we did our best to silently make our descent. By what the plans had shown us, there were three flights leading down to the temple area. A level above was used for… well, we didn’t know what the rooms there were used for. But the temple itself was the bottom, and that was where we were headed.
We passed the doorway leading into the floor above the temple, and I paused to press my ear against the door. There were muffled sounds on the other side—not a comforting thought. But we didn’t have time to explore. We were already running near seven thirty. We had half an hour to stop Lowestar from waking up Suvika.
Could he even do it? The question hung in the back of my mind, but the fact was that we just didn’t know. And since we didn’t know, we had to go on the assumption that he probably could. Better to overestimate someone than underestimate their abilities.
And then, turning the bend in the stairwell, I found myself facing a door. It was metal, and had ornate designs etched into it. I stood back, motioning for Morio and Tanne to step down and take a look at it. After a moment, both shook their heads—they didn’t have a clue—and returned to their places in line.
So this was it. According to the blueprints, this door led directly into the temple. And once I opened it, we’d be out of the frying pan, into the fire. And I’d had enough of fire to last me a lifetime.
A soft swish accompanied the opening door. Ready to pounce on the first sign of trouble, Smoky and I took in our surroundings.
The temple was lush—ornate. Marble lined the floor, and the walls were also marble, likely a façade but still beautiful. Ivory with veins of gold, the gleaming stone shimmered in the light of what looked like a thousand candles. I quickly realized they were flameless—no chance of using them to burn up the silk and velvet curtains that lined sections of the walls.
Columns were evenly spaced, Corinthian in design, with coiling, curving metal vines creeping out from their sides. Lush plants—ivy and fern and trailing jasmine—hung from the metal scrollwork, and the air here was vibrant and perfumed, as intoxicating as the sewers had been nauseating.
Near the back of the spacious hall, a tall throne carved in marble sat, its seat lined with what looked to be velvet cushions in gold and brown. Marble benches lined the walls, and an offering font sat in front of the throne, next to a giant altar stone. On the stone, chained with silver chains, lay a woman. Blond hair streamed over her shoulders and she looked still relatively young.
“Were. She’s Were.” Delilah’s whisper met my ears and I nodded. She had to be our virgin. At least they wouldn’t have abused her, needing her virginity intact for the ritual.
Next to the throne stood another marble slab—this one upright. Again, silver chains restrained a muscled young man. He was obviously Fae, and his hair was long and as platinum as Marilyn Monroe’s had been. Only his was natural.
They said nothing. No screams, no pleas, no begging for release. By the expressions on their faces, it was a good bet they were doped up. Here and there, figures in long red robes scurried around, but there was no sign of Lowestar.
Behind the throne, though, was a marble statue. On a plinth that had to be seven feet tall in itself, the statue was life-sized—a very tall man, with streaming hair and wearing what looked like some sort of tunic and trousers.
Before we could be spotted, I motioned for us to move off to the side. We hid behind a nearby column, waiting. For once, we’d gotten in on time, rather than bursting in during the middle of the ritual.
A drumbeat caught my attention and I pulled back even farther, hoping we were all well out of sight, as the doors started to open. Into the room filed two rows of robed figures, all in crimson.
As they passed by, they didn’t seem to be aware of our intrusion, which could mean one of two things. We’d done well in hiding ourselves. Or they knew we were here and they were biding their time. Given the stench we were letting off, I decided that opting for the latter was safest and prepared myself for any sign they were going to attack.
It was then that I noticed something—or didn’t notice, as the case may be. The stench from the sewer had vanished. I couldn’t smell a thing—not even Smoky. Confused, I glanced around. Tanne was near me, and his eyes were closed and he was whispering something below his breath. Magic. He was working magic. And whatever he was doing had absorbed the odors we were giving off. I wanted to hug him, but that could come later.
As the last of the ritualists filed into the room, they took their place in a semicircle around the throne, behind the altar and font. Damn, they were blocking our view of the girl—we’d have to work quickly to avoid somebody stabbing her, or whatever they were planning on doing. But I wanted to wait until Lowestar was there. If we moved too quickly, he could escape and then we’d just have one more nasty enemy in the wild.
