“Yes. Got a feeling the folks behind us are going to be armed with those illegal mag-rezes that evidently anyone with enough cash can buy on the streets these days. We’ve only got one between us. Bad odds.”
“I should have brought mine.”
“In hindsight that would have been a good idea, yes. Next time we go to a wedding, we’ll have to remember to pack it.”
She ignored that. “We’re headed for the ruins so that we can use the quartz wall as a barricade, right?”
“No.” Forced to slow down a little more, he reluctantly put the Phantom into a lower gear. “We’re heading for the ruins because we need to get underground before the shooting starts.”
“What good will that do?”
“Mag-rezes, like most high-tech gadgets that use magnetic resonating technology don’t work very well underground. The heavy psi down below screws up their mechanisms. It makes the guns just as dangerous to whoever is rezzing the trigger as they are to the target. That’s why ghost hunters don’t carry them.”
“Oh, right,” she said. “Come to think of it, I believe the little guy who sold me my gun did say something about not trying to use it underground. He told me it might explode in my hand.”
“Any chance that once we get inside the wall at the site you’ll remember where the entrance to the catacombs is?”
“Yes.” She kept her attention on the lethal parade of headlights behind the Phantom. “It’s inside the tower. There’s a staircase that seems to go down forever, and there are a lot of twists and turns in it. When you stand at the top, you can’t see the bottom. Really spooky. I think that’s why the attraction never made a lot of money for the two men who ran it.”
“Too spooky?”
“No. Too many steps. Customers realized that once you got down to the bottom, you had to climb all the way back up in order to get out. It was a very long climb. I remember a lot of people taking one look at that staircase and then demanding their money back.”
“Maybe we’ll get lucky, and that’s just what those guys back there will do,” he said, going for a little positive thinking.
“We probably shouldn’t count on that.”
“No,” he agreed, “probably shouldn’t. I’m assuming that because it was once a tourist attraction, the stairwell and the adjacent tunnels are clear of illusion traps?”
“They certainly were when it was operating as an attraction,” she said. “I can’t see any reason why anyone would have reset a trap.”
He thought about that. Only someone who possessed a special kind of psi talent—an ephemeral-energy para-resonator, otherwise known as a tangler—could de-rez or reset a trap. Neither he nor Celinda could deal with one.
“We’ll have to take our chances,” he said. “Not like we have a lot of choice here.”
“I couldn’t de-rez a trap,” she said. “But I can detect them, which means we should be able to avoid any that we come across.”
He thought about the night he had taken Mary Beth from the kidnappers. “I’ve got some ability to sense them, too. Between the two of us, we can do this.”
Chapter 24
THE GLOW OF THE QUARTZ WALL THAT SURROUNDED THE ancient outpost grew brighter as they drew near. Davis was aware of the ambient psi energy leaking out of the ruins now. He knew that Celinda sensed it, too.
“Is your talent like that of other hunters?” she asked. “Does it get stronger when it’s enhanced by alien psi?”
“Yes.”
The wall was coming up fast now. He could see the remains of an old human-made parking lot. Recklessly he increased the speed of the Phantom again.
“They’re falling back a little,” Celinda assured him. “You’re right, they can’t take this road as fast as we can.”
He concentrated, trying to anticipate problems.
“Did the people who ran the ruins as a concession put up a gate of any kind?” he asked.
“I remember a makeshift wooden gate that they opened for you after you bought the ticket.”
“With luck it won’t be locked.”
“I doubt it. The place has been abandoned for years.”
The Phantom slammed to a stop in the parking lot. A badly weathered sign heralded the entrance: Welcome to the Haunted Alien Ruins. Beneath the sign a large wooden gate hung limply on its hinges.
“Gate’s unlocked,” Davis said. “One less thing to deal with.” He killed the engine and the headlights. “Everybody out. Now.”
Celinda already had her seat belt undone. She grabbed Araminta with one hand and opened the passenger-side door with the other.
Davis got out on the other side and stretched an arm back into the interior of the vehicle. Max immediately hopped down onto the offered perch and bounced up onto Davis’s shoulder.
The four vehicles were still some distance away down the road, but they were closing fast. Headlights jumped and bounced in the night.
Davis yanked the mag-rez out of his ankle holster.
“Go,” he ordered.
Celinda was already moving, running toward the entrance. Suddenly she ground to a halt.
“What?” Davis snapped
“I don’t know. Something’s wrong. Araminta is upset.”
“This isn’t the time to worry about her feelings. Move.”
Celinda started running again. Davis saw the shadow on her shoulder tumble down to the ground.
“Oh, damn,” Celinda wailed. “She’s going back to the car. I can’t leave her.”
“She’ll be fine. She can take care of herself.”
“No, Davis, I think she wants something from the car.”
Celinda rushed after Araminta.
Davis looked at the fast-approaching cars. “Damn.”
But it was too late to stop Celinda. She had reached the Phantom. Araminta was on the ground beside the passenger door, jumping up and down and chattering wildly.
Celinda opened the door. Araminta disappeared inside. Celinda reached in after her.
“Come on, Celinda.” For the first time Davis felt a tendril of real panic. If Celinda would not obey, they were doomed. He started back for her. “Get over here. Now.”
She had already extricated herself from the car. She whirled and ran toward him. He saw that she had her oversized tote in one hand. Araminta was on her shoulder, seemingly content.
They ran, flat-out, toward the entrance.
“She wouldn’t come without the tote,” Celinda explained, breathless.
They raced through the opening created by the sagging gate. The interior of the walled compound was illuminated by the glowing quartz that surrounded it. A handful of ancient spires and domed structures loomed, eternally alien and mysterious in their fantastical, ethereal design.
Old, hand-painted, human-made signs loomed over tumbledown concession stands.
Snacks and Sodas.
Get Your Souvenir Photo Here.
It was the last sign that caught his eye. It was posted outside the entrance to an airy, radiant, green quartz spire.
Prepare to Descend into the Underworld.
“That’s where the staircase is,” Celinda said.
Brakes and tires squealed. He glanced back over his shoulder. The first of the four cars was just pulling into the parking lot. The other three were right behind it.
Celinda dashed through the vaulted entrance of the ruin. He followed.
One look at the glowing quartz staircase, and he understood why the old attraction had lost a few potential customers. The steps plunged downward, twisting and turning in a nightmarish version of a spiral staircase that was vaguely disorienting to human senses.
There was no banister. None of the staircases in the catacombs had been outfitted with them. Evidently the long-vanished aliens hadn’t worried about safety violations or liability insurance problems.
Luckily, in this instance, the sides of the stairwell were close enough to touch. Celinda flattened one palm against the quartz wall on her right and braced herself as she rushed down the strangely twisted steps. He did the same.
The intense paranormal energy that was always present in the catacombs hit his senses in a rush. The stuff had a mildly exhilarating effect on anyone who possessed even an average level of psi ability. For those like Celinda and himself with strong parapsych profiles, the effect was even more intoxicating.