A Darkness Strange and Lovely

Chapter Twenty-one

Joseph’s trousers and shirt were too long . . . but they were at least dry. As I sat on the flagstones and stuffed the boots with pieces of petticoat, I stretched my mind to remember the ball—to recall some detail that might help explain how I had fallen so easily into a spell, but I came up with nothing.

For now, I could only hope that one day the memories would return.

Somewhere in the dark beside me, I could hear Daniel changing as well. Joseph stood with the lantern at the tunnel’s mouth. Oliver skulked along the water, staring into its black depths. He twisted around and approached. “Are you sure this is what you want to do?”

“It isn’t a want,” I said, tying my final bootlace. “It’s a need.”

Oliver held out his hand and helped me stand, but he didn’t release my fingers. “And you realize how strong this demon is, right?”

I nodded, even though I had no idea, not even an inkling, of how strong a demon could be. In the end it did not matter, for it would not change what I intended to do. “You don’t have to come, Oliver.”

“But I will. If I hadn’t left you, you wouldn’t have almost drowned.”

I squeezed his hand. “And if I had not been careless with Elijah’s letters, you would not have had to leave.”

“Empress?” Daniel called softly.

I turned and in the flickering lantern light saw him padding close. Four pistols hung in a leather bandolier across his chest.

Daniel didn’t meet my eyes. “We’re going now.” Then he strode past me, heading for the lantern.

For Joseph. For the tunnel into darkness.

I hurried after, Oliver on my heels. Soon enough, I could see the tunnel: a jagged crack in the white wall with barely enough space through which to squeeze.

“Look.” Joseph waved Daniel over. “There is blood. And cloth.”

I crept closer, until I too could make out the dark stain on the bricks as well as several tiny tatters of brown fabric. “Signs of the Dead?”

Joseph did not answer. He merely backed away from the crack and said, “Eleanor and the demon go first.”

Daniel’s gaze flickered uncertainly to me. “Or maybe I should go first.”

“Let Eleanor’s demon face its kin.”

“Unless . . .” Daniel swallowed. “Unless he leads us into a trap. I think you should let me go first.”

He scratched his neck. “Eleanor and the demon can pick up the rear.”

Joseph nodded curtly and handed Daniel the lantern. Then, after checking that his bandolier was well fastened, Daniel hefted the lantern high and slithered through the crack. Joseph squeezed in just behind.

I threw Oliver a glance.

“No chance you’ll reconsider?” he asked, his eyebrows high.

“None.”

He spread his hands. “Then lead the way, Master Eleanor.”

I wedged myself in, and after wriggling through several feet of rough rock that scraped and latched onto my clothes, I finally toppled out the other side. Water dripped from the reddish walls like blood, and I couldn’t tell if the rust color of the stones was from the lantern’s flame or their natural color.

Daniel’s face flickered ahead. He was waiting, his head crooked to keep from hitting it on the low ceiling.

“There are clear signs of passage,” Joseph murmured, his gaze cast down. “Many footsteps have come this way—dragging, uncoordinated footsteps, I would say. And if it was this easy for us to enter here, then why not les Morts?”

I glanced down, trying to see whatever Joseph saw, but I did not have enough light.

Seconds later Oliver squirmed out behind me, his yellow eyes glowing in the dim light. Without a word, Daniel pivoted around and crept off.

The passage descended steadily, and the air turned thicker—as if I were breathing in the stones themselves. Our feet crunched on the sandy floor, but soon the walls sweated so heavily, the droplets collected on the ground in unseen puddles. Cold water sloshed into my boots, numbing my toes.

Yet on we went, the tunnels twisting and winding like a snake. Always sloping down. Always growing colder, until eventually my breath curled out in smoky tendrils. How many years—or centuries—had Parisians been mining beneath their city? To have opened up a honeycomb of caves so extensive and so deep . . . I felt like an ant descending into the anthill. But instead of a queen, we sought a demon.

I do not know how far we traveled—it felt as if we walked for hours—but by the time the ceiling finally lifted enough for Daniel to unfurl his lanky form, I was bone-cold and shambling like the Dead.

And all I wanted was for this descent to end. I was more than a little tempted to call on my power —not only for warmth, but for courage. Yet if Joseph sensed me casting a spell . . . It was not worth his wrath. Not when we were this close.

Of course, several twisting tunnels later I was already regretting my decision to ignore my power, for now we were not only cold and exhausted, we were forced to stop.

Two branches split off.

I hugged my arms to my chest. How much longer? I bounced on my toes, trying to get feeling back into them. Trying to quell my impatience and ignore the now insistent craving for magic.

The lantern cast shadows on the wall in phantom-shapes—long figures with even longer arms that seemed to wriggle and writhe in time with Daniel’s and Joseph’s soft murmuring.

I licked my lips. Fight the magic a bit longer. To distract myself, I whispered, “Oliver, how do we stop the demon?”

“If it’s bound to the Marquis, it won’t be too difficult. Its magic will be limited to the Marquis’s commands, and we simply . . . I don’t know, rope it up.”

“What if it’s unbound?”

“Then we’ll be in trouble.” He didn’t get to explain further, though, for Daniel suddenly declared, “This one.” He stood before the right passage. “It has fresh tracks.” And with that he whirled around, spraying us briefly in light, and then strode off, with Joseph behind.

I scampered after, grateful to move. But we almost instantly stopped again, for our way was blocked by an old cave-in.

“No, no!” I cried. A mound of dusty rubble stood as high as my chest. By now my body was so numb, I could no longer feel my fingers as I rubbed them on my cheeks.

But I bit back the tears brewing in my chest. I was embarrassed to be reacting this emotionally. No one else was showing frustration, but no one else was having to constantly resist the pull of magic either . . . and I couldn’t resist much longer.

Daniel clambered up a few steps, and then, leaning on the mound, he held out the lantern. “It’s not a dead end,” he said softly. “We can get through the space at the top. The cave-in doesn’t go far beyond that, but . . .” He looked up and inspected the ceiling. “That ceiling ain’t stable. We’ve gotta be real careful. If it all collapses, we’ll be stuck on the other side.” He glanced back at Joseph.

Joseph set his jaw. “I . . . I believe we have no other choice. If we see no signs of les Morts on the other side, then we will return.”

I screwed my eyes shut and prayed we would find signs. We had not gone this far simply to turn back.

Daniel climbed up the mound, his feet sliding and pebbles flying. At the top, he set the lantern in the dirt. “I’ll leave it here so you can see . . .” His eyes slid down to me. Then, almost as if he was coming to some decision, he set his jaw. “Empress, you bring the lantern through.”

For a second I thought Joseph would argue. But after a momentary hesitation, he planted his foot in the limestone and started to ascend. Meanwhile, Daniel scrabbled around and crawled into the tiny space above the cave-in.

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.