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She dragged Shane insistently on, to the corner. They hugged the brick wall, and Claire peeked around it to see where he was.
Magnus stopped just as she looked. He was standing over a rusty iron grating set in the concrete of the sidewalk - a drain into the sewers. Claire had a flash of memory, of a grate just like that - where had she seen it?
Behind Goode's Drugs. When she'd followed Magnus the first time.
Magnus seemed to . . . collapse. There was no other word for it; he broke into wet splashing drops, and in a second, maybe two, he was gone.
Like he was made out of water. It was sickening and wrong on so many levels, and it made her feel dizzy and hot, despite the cold rain pouring down on the hood of her coat.
That was how he'd gotten away from her behind the drugstore, and at the grocery store; he'd just flushed himself down the drain, and left her standing there confused, looking in all the wrong places. The idea that he'd been down there, looking up at her, watching her - that made her shudder all the way to her spine.
He knew I'd seen him, Claire thought. He couldn't take the chance I'd known where he'd gone. So he killed me rather than risk it.
There was no sign of anyone - or anything - else on the street. Claire gulped to force down her nausea, then tugged Shane forward, to stand next to the grate.
She pointed at it.
He gave her an odd look.
She pointed again, reached down, and grabbed hold. It was way too heavy for her to lift, even though she pulled until her muscles trembled and spasmed.
Shane shook his head, sending spray flying, and bent over to put his back into it as well. With his help, she got it to creak up at a rusty forty-five-degree angle.
The flood of water on the streets was roaring into the gutters and drainage openings, and this one was no different; it was a waterfall leading down into a black pit.
Shane dug a flashlight from his pocket, switched it on, and lit up the darkness.
It was like a vision of hell, if hell was made of water; thick, brown currents raced below them, carrying shreds of trash, tangles of metal, branches, the debris of everything that had washed in from the streets. She caught sight of rats swimming for their lives. They were swept along at a terrifying rate.
Shane put a hand on her shoulder and shook his head, again. It was too dangerous; he was right. Going into a storm drain was suicidal in this rain; they'd be swept away and mashed up against a grating and drowned, at best.
Besides, apparently Magnus could turn himself into some kind of liquid. How could she possibly track that?
Think. Surely, with all this rain, Magnus wasn't actually living in the sewers; maybe it was his version of a highway. But obviously he was comfortable in the water....
The singing was starting up again, high and sweet at the edges of her awareness, and she unconsciously reached for her earplugs, then stopped herself.
The singing.
Like the old stories of the sirens, in Greek mythology. Or the mermaids.
Singing, to lure people to their deaths.
All she had to do was follow the sound.
Shane pushed the grating down and spread his hands in a questioning gesture.
She grabbed his arm, and towed him on, through the rain, in the direction that the creature who'd killed her wanted his prey to go. Toward the singing.
They had two advantages, she figured; one, they were at least partly protected against the sound of that music. And two, they were coming into it knowing the risks.
The singing seemed stronger as they walked south, into one of the less-populated areas of town; there were abandoned houses here, and old shuttered buildings that had once been stores. There were still a few homes being lived in. A thick knot of dread formed in Claire's chest when she saw that some with lights on had open doors, as if the inhabitants had simply walked out and left them as they were.
She caught sight of a woman ahead of her in the rain. No coat. She was wearing light house shoes that flapped wetly in the icy stream running down the sidewalk, and her clothing was plastered flat against her body. Claire pointed, and she and Shane ran forward to catch up with her.
The woman - a vampire? - didn't seem to notice them at all. She was staring straight ahead, and her wet face was blank as she struggled on, one step at a time. She was shuddering with the cold in her thin clothing.
Shane grabbed her and pulled her to a stop. She tried to yank free, but not as if she was alarmed by getting surprised on a dark street; it was more impatience, as if he was an obstacle she had to overcome to get where she needed to be.
After a few seconds of silent struggle, the woman suddenly turned toward him and swiped her fingernails at his face. Definitely a vampire: her eyes were muddy red, and her fangs flashed sharp in the dim light. Shane let go as he ducked, and she stumbled on, at the same relentless pace.
Can't stop her, Shane said. Want me to . . . He mimed knocking someone out. Claire shook her head. She hated to do it, but the woman was leading them where they needed to go.
They followed behind at a careful distance, but it didn't seem like there was any reason to worry about being spotted; nobody else was around at all, and certainly the woman didn't care if they were behind her, as long as they didn't get in her way.
She slowed and turned, finally, and shuffle-splashed her way up a set of steps toward a big, old building with windows soaped opaque. Shane played his flashlight over the name over the door.
MORGANVIKLKLE CIVIC POOKL.
Whatever it was, it had been closed for ages; the building looked old and sagging, and the paint had peeled from the brick to leave it looking diseased and rotten. The big white door had been locked, Claire saw, but the hasp was broken off now, and the rusted lock lay on the stairs.
The woman went to the door, swung it open, and disappeared inside. This close, the singing was soaking through the earplugs, making Claire feel sick and shaky with the need to take the soundproofing out and listen, really listen. The message was important, and she could almost understand....
Shane reached up for his, and she grabbed his hand and shook her head. He took a deep breath and nodded, and together, they went up the steps to the white door.
Ready? She mouthed it to him, and got a flash of a smile in response.
Not really, he said. But let's do it.
She had the urge to move fast, but held back; Shane couldn't move at vampire speeds, and leaving him behind, here, wasn't even an option. Not with that sound pressing down, dragging and piercing right through the soundproofing now, digging into her brain. Closer, it was singing. Come and rest. Come and rest.
She didn't want to rest, but she couldn't stop herself from moving forward, slowly, with Shane's hand clutched tight in hers.
The room she walked into was dark, and smelled of mold. The carpet was ancient and filthy, and overhead, the ceiling had cracked and split. Paint had peeled off in elaborate curls, like ribbons, and she ducked to avoid them. There was an old desk, and a wrinkled cardboard sign that read, when Shane turned his flashlight on it, MEMBER SIGN-IN SHEET. The clipboard was still there, dangling from a silver chain, but the papers were long gone.
The entire place reeked of damp and rot.
Closer, the music whispered. Peace and stillness. Closer.
There was a hallway beyond the entry hall, and it glimmered with fairyland lights and reflections.
Shane pulled at her hand, shaking his head frantically. He pointed at the door leading back outside, into the cleaner night air.
But she had to see. Just to be sure.
Claire edged forward down the hall, still gripping his hand. She tried not to touch the walls, which were black with mold. The carpet was gone now, and there were two doors off the hall, one labeled MEN'S KLOCKER ROOM, the other WOMEN'S. The texture of the floor changed to tile, and it was slick and slippery.
The hall opened into a giant open concrete space with a rusty lacework of iron overhead. The floor was cracked white tiles, and on the walls there was more tile, in patterns Claire was sure used to be beautiful, before they were discolored with time and more of the ever-present mold.
In the center was a big square pool, and it was full of glimmering blue-green water, lit from below. It glowed like a jewel, and it was beautiful and mesmerizing and the singing was coming from there, right there....
The woman they'd followed was in the pool. In the shallow end, but walking forward.
And she kept walking as the water reached her hips, then her waist, up to her chest, her neck....
. . . And she went under.
She didn't come back up.
In the deep end of the pool, Claire saw . . .
. . . Bodies.
Claire lunged forward and ran to the edge of the pool. Shane tried to stop her, but she couldn't let him, not now, not now!
