Susan Dennard - A Darkness Strange and Lovely
I moved forward, but Oliver grabbed my hand.
“What?”
He shook his head, clearly waiting for Joseph to disappear through the rubble. Then he bent in close, whispering in my ear, “I will only say this once more, and then I fear it will be too late.”
“Say what?”
“We can still turn back. Take that lantern and run.”
“And abandon them?” My shoulders locked up. “In the dark?”
He gave a small shrug. “I don’t care about them. At all. And I still don’t know why you do.”
I didn’t answer him. Instead, I spun on my heel, dug my hands into the powdery rock, and climbed.
At the top, there was just enough space for me to wriggle through on my stomach and then twist around to snag the lantern. A few more feet of squirming and I slid out the other side. Joseph took the lantern, and Daniel gripped my hand and helped me clamber down.
But the moment my heavy boot hit the hard floor, Daniel released it. He even wiped his hands on his pants, as if I’d contaminated him with my touch.
And all my earlier irritation flared bright. I had not asked for his help. Not to mention, he’d had no trouble touching me after I had almost drowned. No trouble jamming his lips on mine or pressing me to his chest.
The scrape of dirt told us Oliver was on his way, so Daniel held the lantern high. There were distinct footprints all around, and I breathed a grateful sigh.
At Joseph’s nod, Daniel resumed his march into the low tunnels. But it didn’t stay low for long—
nor did it stay narrow. Soon Daniel could stand upright, while I could spread out both of my arms and not reach the walls, and the ground beneath us became smooth. Well-worn as if very well-trod.
We should have realized this was a bad sign. We should have known right then to stop—especially when we reached an abrupt turn in the tunnel.
But we were too desperate to reach the end, so we traipsed right around that blind bend. Or rather, Daniel did. . . .
And then his voice roared out. “Dead!”
Panic flooded my brain, and for a heartbeat all I could do was stand there, frozen.
Then came the crack of a pistol shot, and my body surged to life. I twisted around and shoved
Oliver into a run.
Behind me came the scraping sound of bone on bone. Crack! The blue glow of electricity flashed through the tunnel.
“Faster!” Daniel cried, his voice right behind me. And the snapping of bones just behind him.
So I hurtled faster, the lantern light listing and rocking and Oliver just ahead. Until Oliver stopped and spun around.
We were at the cave-in.
“Command me!” he shouted, his hands flying up.
“Stop the Dead! Sum veritas!”
“Dormi!”
Daniel’s arms flew around my waist, and he yanked me past Oliver just as the demon’s blue magic erupted. We hit the pile of rubble, knocking down fresh bits of ceiling.
But the limestone falling on my face barely registered over the stampeding feet and the empty eye sockets everywhere. There were far too many to fight with our fists. We needed magic—lots of it.
“Dormi!” Oliver roared again, and a few corpses on the front line toppled over—only to be replaced by more skeletal claws.
Daniel fired a pulse pistol, knocking back the next wave. But more followed.
And in the distance, somewhere in the middle of the sea of skeletons, electricity thundered over and over again.
I let my instincts take over then. As I sucked in my breath, I drew in all my power with it. Then I hurled the magic out. It was like the time at Madame Marineaux’s, but now, instead of one corpse there were three—no, there were four, five . . . seven. Somehow I anchored myself to seven Dead.
“Stay,” I murmured. They did not stay. Nor did they come as quickly—though the corpses behind them were not slowed. Their bone fingers reached over felled corpses and fought to get by.
“Dormi!” Oliver cried again, and three of my seven crumpled. Instantly, I mentally grabbed onto the next corpses.
“Stay, stay, stay.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Daniel reload his pulse pistols, his eyes never leaving the Dead.
It was then that I noticed that Joseph’s electricity had stopped. No more blue flashes, no more thundering blasts.
My grip on the Dead faltered. Two hurtled for us, fingers reaching and jaws wide.
Pop! They collapsed, and pistol smoke wafted into my nose. “We need to get out of here!” Daniel shouted.
No one moved. Oliver continued bellowing, “Dormi!” Yet with each of his attacks, fewer and fewer corpses fell.
And though I still chanted “Stay, stay, stay,” fewer and fewer corpses listened.
“Go!” Joseph screamed, his voice distant and desperate.
Daniel lunged forward, as if to force his way into the Dead. I threw myself at him. “No, you can’t
—”
“He needs me!”
“And you’ll die.”
Daniel hesitated, his gaze whipping from the lines of never-ending skeletons to the rapidly draining Oliver. Then he snatched my hand and hauled me to the pile of limestone. “Climb!” He twisted to Oliver. “You too! Climb! I’ll cover you.”
He flipped out two pulse pistols and aimed at the shambling bodies—bodies that crawled over their felled brothers, their heels sinking into ancient flesh.
Pop! Pop! I raced up the rubble, my hands digging into the dirt and my legs propelling me up as fast as I could go. Oliver was right on my heels, and in his hand was the lantern.
We reached the top. I pushed Oliver in front and twisted back to get Daniel. “Come on! Hurry!”
Pop! More Dead toppled over, almost at Daniel’s feet. He wouldn’t make it.
“Hurry!” I shrieked, reaching for him.
“I have one pistol left and no time to reload.” He grabbed hold of my hand, and I poured all my strength into towing him up. He reached the top, and the Dead climbed up after.
“Go!” He shoved me violently into the narrow space. “Faster, Empress— go! I’ll hold ’em off.”
I did as he said, dragging myself with my hands and kicking with my heels. Dirt crumbled over me, and I thought the ceiling would fall at any moment. . . .
Then Oliver had his fingers around mine. He was yanking me through and into the calm of the empty tunnel beyond. I was about to tumble down the limestone, to keep running, until I realized that
Daniel wasn’t behind me.
I twisted around. “Daniel!” I met his eyes, wide and scared.
And still faraway on the other side of the cave-in.
I knew without even seeing it that the Dead had reached him.
“Shoot them!” I screamed. “Shoot!”
But he didn’t. He aimed his pistol directly at the ceiling, and in a final roar he screamed, “Run!”
and pulled the trigger.
Chapter Twenty-two
“No!” I launched myself at the cave-in. The entire tunnel was blocked, but I had to get through. I kicked rocks aside and flung at the dirt. “Please, please, please, no!”
Oliver’s arms slung around me. “Stop! You’ll bring down more of the ceiling.”
“But they’re on the other side!” I shrieked. “Daniel’s on the other side!”
“And we can’t do anything about that now!”
“We can go through!”
“No, El, we can’t.” He spun me around to face him. “Your man shot the ceiling, and he did it on purpose.”
“B-but why?” I found I was shaking and . . . and crying. “They have no light and th-there’s hundreds of Dead.”
“I don’t think the Dead were hurting them.”
“Wh-what?”
“Joseph—he kept blasting them down and was still able to shout. He didn’t sound hurt. More . . . detained. Think about it, El. Why would the demon want to hurt anyone who walked into its lair?”
“It . . . it wouldn’t.” I pressed the heels of my hands to my eyes. “It cannot sacrifice a dead victim.” My hands dropped. “But that means Joseph and Daniel will both be . . .” I spun back around and lunged for the rubble. “We have to get through!”
“But there’s no point. ” He was yelling at me. “If we get through, then we’ll be demon-food.”
“But we can stop the Dead!”
“No, we can’t.” He shoved in front of me and gripped my chin. “There were hundreds of bodies back there. This demon must collect them from the catacombs and use them as sentries to patrol the tunnels. I can’t take down more than a few Dead at a time, El, and you . . . you don’t know how to take down any.”
“So teach me!”
He lowered his hand. “Even if I did, you wouldn’t be able to stop any more bodies than I can.”
My stomach curdled, and the tears fell harder. “B-but I can’t just leave Daniel . . . or Joseph . . . or that demon. Please, Oliver!”
“Please what? We have only one option: go back. We can get the hell out of here and—”
“No. No.” My tears stopped abruptly, cold trails on my face. “We are not leaving. Though . . . we can go back.” I swooped up the lantern and strode down the tunnel.
“And do what?” He surged beside me, his hands up. “Oh no. You mean go into the other passage?”
“Yes.”
“What if it leads nowhere?”
“I have to try.”
“Well, what if it leads to more Dead?”
I hesitated at that, and Oliver charged on. “See, El? We need to go back to the surface.”
“No,” I snapped. “Absolutely not. There must be some spell I can cast to protect us, right?”
His shoulders dropped an inch. He looked away. “There is an awareness spell. It would allow you to sense anything living—or Dead—nearby.”
I nodded curtly. More magic. More spells. It would give me strength, and that was something I needed. I set off back toward the branching tunnels and said, “Tell me what to do.”
Oliver followed just on my heels, the lantern swinging in his hand. “First you say Sentio omnia quae me circumdentur. It means ‘I feel all around me,’ and it will form a web. You sort of toss it out.”
He spread his arms, and the light sprayed out with the movement. “Do you understand?”
“Yes.” We were almost to the split. With each step, I drew my magic into my chest. It trickled in slowly, warm and safe. A balm to my fears, an embrace against the cold, and a light in the dark. And with each drop of soul that slid through my veins, my steps grew stronger, and the blue glow grew brighter.
