The shafts extended in straight lines through a world of utter blackness, a forgotten land of tunnels and cavernlike rooms beneath the earth, far from the harsh light of day or the soft glow of the moon. As Nic, Ripley and Sam followed their assigned tunnel, the air became musty with a strong odor of decay and moldy earth. Their lights cast gloomy shadows on the tunnel walls.
In less than a mile, the tunnel began to twist and turn, descending, and Nic slowed his step and said; "Sam, you stick close to me."
Noticing the tiny red eyes that watched her balefully from the shadows, and the sound of soft furry feet scrambling in the darkness, she remarked firmly, "You're kidding, right? I'm on you like feathers on a duck's back."
Nic snorted, amused.
"I really hate rats, you know," she said. "I'm glad you're not one anymore." Her skin crawled in apprehension.
In spite of the tension he was feeling, Nic laughed. He had to protect Sam at all costs, though he also wanted this gorgon's head on a platter.
Ripley just shook his head.
Sam felt a faint breeze of air stir. The rotten odor of decay faded, leaving a dusty smell of damp earth. In front of them, highlighted by their helmet lamps, steps led spiraling down into the greater unknown.
"This is creepy, Nic," she said. She was ecstatic that he was with her, for she felt clearly the taint of a cool evil presence seeping out from the great yawning depths. Her heart sped up with fear, and she forced herself to take each step.
Glancing back, Nic gave her a smile of encouragement.
"I had to trap a rogue hooker werefox once, in a mine in Mexico. It wasn't my cup of tea," Sam admitted.
"What happened?" Nic asked. He was curious to know everything about her, past and present and future.
"She'd been slashing up her male customers. Killed one of them. I remember Bogie running her to ground, and we finally trapped her in one of the shafts, trying to coax her out. She had beady brown eyes, and she acted like she couldn't hear us. She was plotting her next move. It was a Mexican stand-off for two days."
"How'd you get the little vixen out?"
"Psychology. I made Bogie dress up as a bunny."
Nic started laughing again, and this time Ripley joined in.
"I kid you not. Worked like a charm. She came out and gave chase, and I trapped her with some iron netting." As she talked, Sam felt a little less afraid of the big, black unknown. "For months I teased Bogie about it. I said we'd always have a job for him come Easter."
Nic shook his head. His helmet light bobbed, making the shadows dance. "You, Sammy, are a pistol. Don't let anyone tell you different."
Their good humor was cut short as Ripley stumbled on something big and hard. Glancing down, he took a small leap backward. Sam and Nic both moved to stand beside him, their helmets illuminating the reclining figure of what had once been a man. The figure was now just a monument to the Meduse's destructive force, with the expression on his face preserving his terror for eternity.
"Nero's been here," Nic stated gravely. Bending over he inspected the man and the area around him, sniffing the air. "This coffee in this cup here behind him smells three, maybe four days old."
"We're on the right path then," Sam acknowledged grimly, both frightened and innervated by the thrill of the hunt. "Ripley, call Prince V. and the others and let them know we've got a dead one."
Ripley raised his state-of-the-art walkie-talkie to his mouth, but all he got was static. Apparently they were too deep in the ground.
"I guess we should go back and tell the others, since splitting up your forces is just plain stupid," Sam suggested.
But before the other two could agree or disagree, there came the sound of something coming at them from the end of the tunnel they had just traversed.
Both Nic and Ripley fell into a crouch. Sam's light beam ranged into the depths, but it reflected back only blackness.
Suddenly Boris appeared, flying through the air about three feet off the ground. He landed at once, and Nic asked harshly, "What's happened? What's going on?"
Breathing deeply, Boris explained, "We ran into Nero in our tunnel. Alex is hurt bad, Nic. Too bad to transform."
"Did the snakes bite him?" Sam asked, filled with concern.
"No. Nero's claws did the damage, but it's bad. I didn't want to move him without help. So here I am."
"You left him there with Nero around?" Nic growled, his eyes feral.
"Easy, Nic. Nero ran out the way we came in. I think he's going topside," Boris explained. Holding up his arms, he showed the claw marks and dark red stains decorating his own jacket. "I fought, too."
Nic was frantic to get to his brother, but he couldn't leave Sam, who couldn't move as fast as a paranormal. "Alright, let's hurry. Sam, jump on my back and I'll carry you."
She shook her head. "I'll slow you down, and every second counts for Alex. You and Boris go ahead, and Ripley and I will follow."
Nic didn't like the idea of leaving her with the other werewolf; but his brother could be dying. "Alright. Be careful, Sam. Ripley, guard her with your life." And with those words he kissed her on the lips and began to run, following Boris.
Their speed amazed Sam as she watched the lights of their helmets fading rapidly into the blackness. "Come on, Ripley, let's hurry. I can run for a while." Sam felt distinctly uncomfortable when she saw the man's pupils had dilated and he looked half wolf, but Ripley simply said, "The ground here is too treacherous. We'll walk fast until we get back out into the tunnels. I'll lead."
They walked swiftly for a few minutes, their footsteps in the hard graveled dirt making the only sounds. Sam's mind was focused on Alex, concern for both him and Nic striking at her mind as she placed each foot in front of the other.
Her well-honed senses started screaming that something was wrong, and she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. No, something wasn't right; she couldn't put her finger on what, but she felt it to the core of her being. Her tension mounted, almost suffocating her.
Cautiously, she reached inside her jacket pocket for her dagger. The ancient knife had been fashioned for protection against shapeshifters, since iron, like silver, had been revealed as dangerous to a werewolf; deadly if the metal penetrated either the eye or the heart. The blade had been a birthday gift from her Uncle Myles on her eighteenth birthday, and had cost an arm and leg—though luckily not the arm or the leg of anyone law-abiding.
Unfortunately, Sam didn't have long to wait for her premonition to come true. The enemy revealed himself. Ripley had turned, switching off his lamplight. From her own helmet's beam, Sam saw that the werewolf's eyes had dilated even further, and his claws were extending from the flesh of his hands, sharp and curved. His jaw had elongated, and he looked rather like the beast in the old black and white movie with Lon Chaney, The Werewolf of London.
Ripley scrambled to the side, shoving away what looked to be part of the tunnel wall. It was instead a cleverly camouflaged doorway to another tunnel, to another dark and scarier world.
As Ripley worked, Sam turned and began to run, which only incited the werewolf to violence. He leaped and brought her down hard to the ground, his breath harsh and stale on her cheek, his wicked teeth protruding from his half-human jaws.
Thrusting himself against her, he growled, "I can see why Nic has the hots for you. You're built."
Her arms were trapped, and she couldn't reach her dagger. She spit in his face. Ripley slapped her, knocking her head to the side. He leaped up and jerked her roughly to her feet.
"Come on, bitch! We're going in there," he snarled, and he practically threw her through the door.