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He padded forward quietly, keeping low to the ground and close to the walls. When the shadows began to give way to the light, he stopped. Two of the three dead men who’d accompanied the soul-sucker down the tunnel had moved into the cells and picked up the girls. The mara was talking to the zombie guards. He flicked his ears forward but couldn’t hear anything beyond a singsong murmur.
The two zombies with the girls moved out into the main cavern area. The mara motioned them toward the second tunnel, then her form dissolved and floated after the dead men. One of the guards disappeared inside a cell, reappearing moments later with a box clutched in skeletal hands. Both dead men began to walk toward the tunnel he was in. He cursed softly. While he doubted the mara had sensed his presence in the tunnel, any delay in following the creature could be costly. It had taken days—and blind luck—to find this hideaway. If he lost them now, it might be the end of any hope he had of rescuing Janie alive.
He turned tail and padded back to the fissure. Water dripped onto his nose as he crouched down. He shook it free and glanced up, noting that the cracks rising from ceiling to roof were oozing moisture. From the look of it, the tunnel slid right under the river in this section. He suddenly hoped whoever was responsible for creating the passageway had allowed enough depth to give the river base support—otherwise the river could end up cutting itself an entirely new path.
The zombies shuffled past. They didn’t go far, stopping just beyond his line of sight. They stood there for a good five minutes, their breathing as sharp as their smell, their fingers scraping across the stone. Finally, they moved on.
He edged out. The zombies were shuffling toward the trapdoor, and one still carried the box. He looked up, but couldn’t see anything out of place and wondered what the hell they’d been doing. Something, he was sure of that. Something that boded him and Kat no good.
For a second, he was tempted to follow them. Kat was due back down this tunnel in the next half hour, and if the dead men were creating some form of trap, she’d be caught.
But dare he risk losing Janie by watching the dead men?
The answer was a resounding no. Kat was a resourceful woman, and psychic besides. Surely she’d sense any trap the zombies were laying.
Right now, his priority had to lie with his niece and the other little girl, not with a woman he’d probably never see again once this mess was over.
He turned and padded after the mara, wondering why the thought of never seeing Kat again churned his gut and made his chest feel tight.
KAT PEERED DOWN INTO THE DARK TUNNEL FROM THE RELATIVE safety of the empty cabin. She could hear no sound beyond a steady dripping, and Ethan’s scent was little more than a caress of warmth across the chill air coming out of the tunnel. He wasn’t in there; she was certain of that. Did the absence of both him and the zombies mean he’d been caught?
If he had been, he wouldn’t have gone down without a fight. But she couldn’t smell freshly dead zombie in the air of the tunnel, and surely she would have if there were one or two down there.
She bit her lip. She had an uneasy feeling that it was no longer safe in the tunnel, but unless she went in, she’d never know what had happened. Surely Ethan would have left her some hint, some clue, as to where he’d gone if he hadn’t been captured by the zombies or the mara.
Perhaps shifting shape was the answer … only her back and legs were aching with the strain of carrying the small backpack so far in her claws. She doubted that her raven form would be able to hold on to it much longer without dropping it—and dropping it would shatter the extra sleep bombs she’d collected. Leaving it here while she explored the tunnel was out of the question. If the mara came back, she’d be left without weapons.
She’d have to risk going in. She really had no other option. Sighing, she grabbed the pack, swinging it over one shoulder before lowering herself into the tunnel.
Her feet hit the stone with a soft thump. She remained where she was, studying the darkness in front of her, listening to the silence. Beyond the steady dripping there was very little sound. The air seemed thick and cold, icing her lungs with every intake of breath. She shivered and was suddenly glad she’d put on an extra sweater.
She rose and cautiously moved forward. The ground under one foot shifted. Something clicked—a sound so soft she might have missed it had she not been so aware that something was horribly wrong. She froze, her heart beating somewhere in her throat and goose bumps chasing down her spine. Nothing happened, yet that sensation of wrongness increased tenfold.
Swallowing to ease the dryness in her throat, she lifted her hand, running her fingers against the damp wall for guidance as she edged forward.
Again, her foot hit something. Again, there was a whisper-soft click.
Apprehension slithered through her. She scanned the inky tunnel, fingers clenched against the urge to release kinetic energy. At what, she had no idea. There was no threat she could see or smell or hear. Yet every instinct suggested she was stepping deeper and deeper into danger.
Sweat trickled down her cheek. She swiped at it, then stopped, suddenly aware that it was beginning to get truly hot inside the tunnel. Just like the house …
Apprehension turned to fear. She swung around, knowing she had to get out while she still could, before whatever trap the soul-sucker had set could snare her.
Deep darkness slammed down on her. Someone had shut the trapdoor. Cursing loudly, she bolted for the end of the tunnel.
The air around her began to vibrate with energy. The heat increased, until it felt as if her skin glowed with it.
Then everything exploded. She was knocked off her feet by a blast of red-hot air and hammered into the tunnel wall.
JANIE’S BABY-SOFT SCENT LINGERED, GIVING ETHAN A TRAIL to follow. The light of the torches was quickly left behind, but the veil of darkness didn’t fully return, lifted by the beams of light filtering in up ahead. Slime hung in tendrils from the ceiling, waving gently in the breeze wafting down the tunnel. Water trickled past his paws, freezing his pads. He half thought about shifting shape, but he knew it was safer to remain as he was, cold paws notwithstanding. The mara was less likely to be on the lookout for a wolf.
The path came to a junction. He stopped, looking both ways. To his left were warmth and light and the promise of an entrance to the outside world. But Janie and her captors had headed right, up the slope and deeper into the mountain.
Why? The cells in the cavern behind them had appeared secure enough, so what did moving the two girls gain? Did they suspect he and Kat had found their hiding place? Or did the move have nothing to do with that and everything to do with the fact that both girls were food for the soul-sucker and its offspring?
Fear began to pound through his veins, and the sensation of time running out increased.
He followed the tunnel, his nails making little nois
