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He pauses to unzip his pack. I look through the window and immediately scramble backward, falling in the snow again, heart in my throat. What the hell?
I can’t see much inside because it’s pitch dark, and all the other windows are covered with snow, but by the steep drop, it’s clear he dug out an upper window. I can’t see the ground. Just open, empty space before the gray from the window he’s unearthed becomes the deepest darkness.
The wind whips at the pack so much that Kharon has to hold it still with four hands while he digs through it with his other two. My eyes widen when I see him pull out a belay rope. He closes the pack and turns towards me.
He pulls me out of the snow with a strong grip around my waist and, with another pair of hands, begins looping the rope around my waist and legs. I’m padded from the rope because of my coat and snow pants.
I want to say no way are you lowering me down into that freaky chasm, but the storm, which seems to be getting louder and angrier around us, stops me from protesting.
My heart leaps into my throat when he lifts me, one pair of hands on my waist and another underneath my armpits, and hefts me through the open window. My feet hit open air and start bicycling, and the rope around my legs and waist pulls taut.
He’s still holding me, but I know he’ll let go any moment, and it’ll just be the thin rope keeping me aloft.
It’s fine. No problem at all. Just like the Sevastopol job. There was no way into my target’s room, so I had to belay in from the roof through his window. I spent a lot of time at the climbing gym preparing and getting comfortable in the gear. It always seemed foolish that I should be afraid of something silly like heights after all I’d been through in my life.
I think Kharon tries to shout something, but the roaring wind makes it impossible to hear. I reach for him, but too late, his hands let go, and I scream, reaching above my head as I drop a few inches before the bouncy rope catches me.
I’m completely suspended in the air for a second, clinging to it with my gloved hands above my head. Then he slowly lets me down into the pitch-black space. My heart beats loudly in my ears. I twist on the rope, which just makes me spin around and around. I’m furious at my lack of control. At my fear. But it’s so dark on all sides, and I have no idea when I’ll hit the floor or even how far down it is.
It feels like he’s lowering me down forever into darkness. And it’s creepily quiet after the howling wind. When my kicking feet finally hit stone, I screech again.
Kharon calls down from above. “Ksenia!”
“I’m fine,” I shout back, climbing out of the rope and sitting on the floor, shuddering from the experience. I hate being out of control like that. I’m very ready to be back in my world, where I can make meticulous plans, study all the variables, and like chess, prepare many moves ahead for different contingencies.
Instead, all I can do now is wait uselessly, assuming that Kharon will find something to anchor the rope to so he can lower himself down the three-story drop. I keep my eyes glued to the rectangle of light above, eyebrows lifting in shock when I see him crawl through, holding onto the sides of the opening with one pair of arms and jerking the large pack through with another pair.
Then he just leaps.
I shriek in alarm, covering my mouth with my hand and stumbling back further into darkness—
And lands smoothly in a crouch.
“Why did you do that?” I yell at him. “You could have gotten hurt.”
He just stands up and shrugs, slinging the pack off his back. “I am hard to kill,” is all he says, calmly digging through the pack and pulling items out.
I huff out a breath and hug my arms around myself. Even though it’s cold down here, it’s far milder than the breath-stealing freezing air outside.
“What is this place?” I look around. We’re in an obviously and ridiculously tall and large room; that much is clear, but not much more. My eyes are adjusting to the dark, but everything’s still just the dimmest outline. “Is there a flashlight in there?”
Kharon doesn’t answer. He just keeps rifling through the bag and pulls out a flashlight, holding it out to me.
“Stay close,” he growls. I snatch up the flashlight. It takes a moment considering my thick gloves, but I finally click it on.
I gasp as soon as I turn the light beam around, backing into him when I see how large the space is.
