Caleb glared at me. "She's Pythia," Pritkin reminded him quickly.
"Not mine," Caleb said grimly.
"Then who is? Or do you intend to fight this war without one?"
The two stared at each other for a moment, and then Caleb swore. "We can't do this with those things jumping us at every turn!"
"They don't look too interested in attacking to me," I pointed out.
"And what about the ones that are?"
"We'll take care of them if and when we find them."
"And if these creatures find a way out of here? You want to let something as potentially lethal as the things we killed loose into the general population?"
"We're nine levels down! And these don't look too dangerous to me."
"Looks can be deceiving. We know nothing about their abilities, about why the vampires were breeding them," he argued stubbornly.
I watched as the slug thing started to ooze away from us. The underground streams would probably survive the pending implosion. What if the creature got into the water system? What if several did, and they started to multiply? There could be thousands within weeks.
"Most will die anyway," Pritkin pointed out quietly, "of starvation or drowning or by being crushed under a mountain of rock." He nodded to where a couple of sort-of birds were already feasting on something's remains, tearing off strips of flesh with their long black beaks. "Or at the claws of the larger predators. It's kinder this way."
I stared at the impromptu feast and felt my stomach roil. "Do what you have to," I finally said. "I'll be at the top of the stairs."
The sound of gunfire and the smell of smoke followed me up. It was dark and silent at the top except for a faint blush of light from below. I sat down, wrapped my arms around my knees, leaned my head against the wall and tried not to think at all. Which was when a hand reached out from the dark and covered my mouth.
I was dragged kicking and fighting into a blacked-out room. A light flared—only a single candle—but in the dense dark it shone like a searchlight. It highlighted a small table cluttered with papers and the man sitting behind it. His curls were in disarray and his cashmere sweater was dirty and torn. But the bright brown eyes and quick smile were the same as ever. "Rafe!"
He stood and moved around the desk and I all but threw myself in his arms. I'd known he was probably okay, but some part of me hadn't believed it until now. My heart expanded in my chest at the sight of him, whole and unhurt, exhilaration flooding my veins like bright water.
"Look what I found prowling the corridors," Marlowe's voice said cheerfully from behind me. "She has two mages with her, Pritkin and one I don't know."
"I assume they are the cause of the gunshots?" Rafe asked, smoothing my tangled hair.
"They're doing mercy killings of the experiments," Marlowe said, sounding amused.
"Now?"
"Why not now?" I asked.
"Because the wards will fail in fifty-three minutes," Marlowe answered, "rather taking care of the problem." The ground rumbled under our feet again as if to underscore his words.
"Then why are you two still here? We haven't found any bodies, so I'm guessing there's a way out."
"There are several," Rafe agreed, glancing at Marlowe.
I turned to find the Senate's spymaster regarding me thoughtfully. The candlelight gleamed off the small hoop in his left ear and leapt in his dark eyes. I knew that look; I'd been getting it a lot lately. It usually meant, I wonder if she's actually stupid enough to fall for this? And usually, the answer was yes.
"I'm going to hate this, aren't I?" I asked, resigned.
"Perhaps not." Marlowe tapped the roll of papers on the desk, which I now realized was a schematic, presumably of MAGIC. "You are here on a rescue attempt?"
"Yeah. Only, so far, we haven't found anyone to rescue."
"Most of those who survived the blast have already been evacuated. However, one area remains populated—the mages' holding cells."
"The prisoners are still here? Why?"
"A cave-in," Rafe said. "For security reasons, there is only one way into the cells, and the wards failed in that section." One long finger traced a line on the map two levels up from our position. "It cut them off from any hope of rescue."
"We went over the schematics and questioned the mages, but there's no convenient back door," Marlowe added. "And the cave-in is too extensive for us to clear in the time we have. Almost the entire length of the passageway was affected."
I blinked at him. "I must have heard wrong. You remained behind to rescue humans?"
He grinned behind his goatee. "Well, one, anyway."
"What about the others?"
He shrugged. "You can rescue them, too, if you like."
"Oh, thank you! Now tell me what this is really about."
"The answer to a prayer," he said piously.
"You pray?"
"Naturally," he said innocently. "Of course, I didn't say to what."
"Stop teasing her, Kit," Rafe reproached. He looked at me. "If we are to rescue anyone, we must hurry."
I decided I could get the story out of Rafe later. "It's not that simple," I told them. "Spatial shifting doesn't work the same as time travel; my power doesn't give me a preview. Without knowing where I'm going, I could end up inside a wall or, in this case, a bunch of rock."
"It is thirty meters to the area we believe to be clear," Marlowe told me.
"You believe?"
"The wards are reporting that area as safe. However. ."
"However, what?"
"They may not be completely reliable. Not with this level of damage."
I stared at him. "Not completely reliable means I could shift into the middle of a rockfall, Marlowe! No guesses—this is going to be hard enough as it is. I have to know!"
He just looked at me, but Rafe's eyes slid to the right to an area still swathed in utter darkness. A hissing sigh came out of the gloom, and a moment later, the Consul appeared so suddenly that it was almost as if she'd shifted in. I knew better—she'd probably been there all the time, but she'd been so still I hadn't noticed her. And considering that she was dressed in her everyday outfit of live, writhing snakes, it was a good trick.
Ancient, kohl-rimmed eyes sized me up, and as usual, they didn't look as if they liked what they saw. "I will tell you exactly, Pythia," she informed me. "And then you will do as we have bid."
It wasn't a request. She swept regally out the door and Rafe, Marlowe and I followed. Rafe went downstairs to round up Pritkin and Caleb, while Marlowe and I ran up two flights after the Consul.
The dust became thicker as we ascended, and small siftings of sand were starting to trickle down the walls every time there was a mini-quake. "What happens when the wards go?" I asked as we reached a tumbled mass of stone and dirt at the top of the second flight of steps.
"The levels above this one have solidified into a solid mass," Marlowe told me. "Without the support of the wards, their weight will crush anything below it."
"So, no pressure, then." I stared at the passageway to the left, which, as Marlowe had said, was totally blocked. Red sandstone from the lower levels had mixed with deep yellow from the upper, forming a jumbled mass that didn't appear to have even a small gap at the top. It was like the corridor had been reabsorbed by the rocks around it.
"We believe that it is blocked almost to the cells themselves, which have an independent ward system for added security," Marlowe told me quickly.