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It wasn’t an apology, but it was probably as close as I was likely to get. I crossed my arms and turned to study the mine. “Is it normal for a vertical shaft to be so close to the entrance of a horizontal one?”
“This entire area is littered with both, and yes, some of them are dangerously close.” He shrugged. “Safety wasn’t much cared about in the heady days of the gold rush.”
“Meaning there might be another shaft between the one we fell into and the entrance of the horizontal one?”
“No, not in this case,” René said, as he came back into the clearing. “But you were both damn lucky not to be killed. Flooding was the reason both shafts were eventually abandoned, and old Cutter’s has a hundred-foot drop into water.”
Which meant that while the fall itself might not have killed us, getting out might have been next to impossible, given the timbers closer to the water would surely be rotten by now. And a shaft that deep might mute any cry for help made.
Aiden handed René all the climbing gear then took the flashlight with a nod of thanks. “How far into the mountain does the horizontal shaft go?”
“A couple of hundred feet, at least.” René wrinkled his nose. “It isn’t pleasant in there, though.”
“We’re not going in there for the scenery.”
René’s grin flashed. “I guess not, given neither of you have anything near the proper equipment. You want me to stick around, just in case something else goes awry?”
Aiden hesitated. “Yes, if you can. I’d hate to risk being trapped again.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem. The place is wet but pretty solid.”
“So a gunshot isn’t likely to cause any problem?”
Speculation rose in René’s eyes, but all he said was, “No.”
“Good.” Aiden glanced at me. “Ready?”
“No, but that’s irrelevant.”
“You don’t have to go in—”
“Just because I haven’t felt anything untoward doesn’t mean it isn’t here, Aiden. Whether I like it or not, I have to go on.”
Unsurprisingly, he didn’t argue. I followed him across the clearing, watching every step as we skirted around the still-disintegrating edges of the vertical shaft. Aiden flicked on the flashlight as we stopped at the entrance of the horizontal shaft, and swept the beam across the darkness. There was nothing to see other than old wooden beams and rough-cut stone walls that glistened with moisture.
“I can’t smell anything other than wood rot and mold,” he said. “There’s nothing to indicate our Mason is close.”
“He probably wouldn’t be stored this near to the entrance.” It might have made things easier for both our vampire and us, but the risk of discovery would also have been greater, especially if magic wasn’t being used to distort the stench of Mason’s rotting flesh.
Aiden stepped carefully into the mine. In the distance, water dripped, a melodious sound that oddly matched the soft echo of our footsteps. I rubbed my arms against the chill of the place and did my best to ignore the damp smell of rot that pervaded the air.
As we moved deeper into the mountain, the tunnel began to slope downward and the ground became slippery. I brushed my fingers against the rough wall to help keep balance, and tried to ignore the trailing
touch of moss and who knows what else.
After several more minutes, we came to a T-intersection. Aiden stopped and swung the flashlight’s beam in both directions. The tunnel to our right dropped sharply and disappeared into dark, still water. The one on the left came to an end about twenty feet in.
Leaning against that rear wall, his flesh putrid and crawling with bugs and larvae, was the thing that had once been Mason Redfern.
I might have thought I was prepared for the reality of a zombie, but I’d been very, very wrong.
“Fuck,” Aiden whispered. “I knew it would be unpleasant, but this—”
“Is unforgivable,” I finished for him.
What had been done to Karen was bad enough, but she’d at least willingly injected vampire blood, even if she’d had no idea that the man who was guiding her through the process—a man she thought cared for her—was only using her to destroy her mother.
But this… this was flesh without life, without heart or soul. It was a crime against nature itself, and one for which there could be no forgiveness.
