Chase the Dark (35 page)

The ceiling above collapsed on them, and Piper knew she was dead.

CHAPTER 14

G
RADUALLY,
she became aware of Ash’s harsh breathing above her. Her ears were ringing. Her body ached. Aside from Ash, the silence was absolute. Nothing. Complete nothing.

She opened her eyes. Impenetrable darkness. She was alive, wasn’t she? She remembered the roof coming down, dirt and stone collapsing in on them as their little square of underground space popped like a bubble. The sound had been incredible—and terrifying. The last thing she distinctly recalled was Ash shoving her down in the last instant before certain death.

He was still there, on top of her, shielding her. His face was pressed against the side of her neck, his breath hot against her skin as he panted. The world was still and silent as though the terrible rending of earth and stone had never happened.

She lay for a moment more, feeling spacey and disconnected. She was . . . alive. That was good. And possibly unhurt, though she ached so badly it was hard to tell. Ash was uncomfortably heavy. He was taking some of his weight but not enough.

It took three swallows to get enough moisture to make a sound. “Ash?” she whispered.

His head shifted a little, pressing his face harder into the side of her neck. He was still breathing too fast.

“Are you hurt?”

He didn’t answer. Her foggy brain struggled for focus as she listened to the utter silence. Fear stabbed her.

She flexed her fingers—dirt beneath her nails. She pulled her arms from under Ash and reached out. Her fingers hit walls of rocky dirt on either side. Terror made her heart pound. She flung her hands upward.

Her fingers hit dirt with painful force. She pressed her palms against the solid earth, not even able to extend her arms.

No. God no.

She twisted, reaching over her head. There was loose dirt piled against a tumble of rocks inches above her head. She’d come a hand’s width from having her head crushed by falling stone. She almost wished she had.

Ash panted. A tremor ran through him, his arms quivering on either side of her. He already knew.

They were buried alive.

They were buried in a tiny, coffin-sized bubble, surrounded on all sides by collapsed earth. The entire house could have caved in. The magnitude of the detonation was beyond magic—it must have been the explosives her mom had warned her about. Had Mona or another Gaian set off the blast or had the magic triggered it?

Did it matter? Panic pounded through her.

“Ash!” She pressed her hands into the dirt ceiling, gasping as much as him. How much air was in their tiny hole? How long did they have? “Ash, can you get us out? Ash?” His name came out on a sob.

A low growl, rising from deep in his chest, made her freeze. With escalating terror, she brought a hand down to touch his upper arm.

Her fingers didn’t meet skin. Instead, they found a cool, leathery texture. With shaking fingers, she traced one of the armor-like scales that plated his arms. She remembered vividly the sight of his arm, those wide black scales and long claws, from her one glimpse of him without glamour. Those claws were now hooked in the bottom hem of her shirt.

Ash had abandoned his glamour—and she knew why. He was frightened of enclosed, underground spaces. They were trapped in his absolute worst nightmare. He had shaded. Fully, uncontrollably shaded. He could crush her with his impossible strength or rip out her throat before he could stop himself if she made a wrong move. But considering her current chances of survival, it didn’t make much difference. It might hurt more though.

“Ash,” she whispered. Wet tears trickled down the sides of her face into her hair. “Ash, please.”

Another tremor shook him. He suddenly pushed up. His back hit the top of the earth coffin with a thud. Dirt peppered her face. Rough sounds on either side confused her until she remembered his wings. They were scraping the sides of the hole. A sound between a snarl and a whimper escaped him.

“Ash,” she gasped. Not stopping to think, she hooked her hands around the back of his neck. She yanked him down, pulling his face to her chest. He slumped, shaking and gasping for air. She combed her fingers into his hair, tracing the braid on the side of his head as she fought to control her terror. If she couldn’t, there was no way Ash could.

“Shh,” she whispered. “Close your eyes and concentrate on breathing.” She inhaled and exhaled shakily, demonstrating. “Calm. Please, Ash.”

In the back of her mind, part of her tallied the precious oxygen they were consuming with each panicked breath.

She slid her fingers through his hair and discovered he had horns of some kind. Desperate for something to focus on, she traced their shape. Three curved spines on each side, halfway back on his head. She wondered if they would look striking or frightening. She wanted to touch his wings but doubted he would tolerate it. So she kept stroking his hair as he fought for a semblance of calm. He wasn’t having much success.

“Ash, you can do it,” she encouraged softly, trying not to sound petrified. “Imagine you’re somewhere else.”

A violent quiver shook him. “I can’t,” he whispered. She shuddered as his voice slid over her, alien and sensual even roughened with panic. “I can feel it.”

“Feel what?” she asked, hoping him talking was a good sign. Shaded daemons tended not to do humany things like conversation.

“No space,” he rasped. “No open space. I can sense open spaces for flying in the dark. I can’t sense anything around us.
Nothing
—”

“Shh,” she whispered quickly, cutting him off as his shaking increased. She wrapped her arms around his head and neck, holding him tight to her, not knowing what else to do. Hysterical laughter tickled her throat, trying to escape. She was hugging a panicking, fully shaded, un-glamoured daemon. On purpose. His teeth were inches from her jugular, his claws one flex away from internal organs. But what did it matter? They didn’t have long left anyway. The oxygen dwindled with each minute.

Even if they could dig through the dirt and stone, which she doubted, there was nowhere to go if Ash’s senses were to be trusted. No spaces near them. No way to dig straight up.

“So there’s no hope then?” she finally asked, barely able to force the words out.

He concentrated on breathing before answering. “There’s at least fifteen feet of solidity above us, then some tiny gaps. Part of the house collapsed above us. I can sense another small space, some sort of tunnel, eight feet to the south, about our level.” A long pause. “There’s no way to reach it. It’s solid earth between here and there.”

She fought not to cry. What a stupid way to die for both of them. She hoped Lyre hadn’t been caught in the explosion. Maybe he and Zwi were safe. At least she got Uncle Calder out first.

Tears pooled in her eyes. It wasn’t fair. After everything she’d struggled for, she would die without achieving anything. She’d never get to clear her name. No one would ever find them. The Sahar was buried with them, lost to the world.

The Sahar.

Piper grabbed Ash, digging her fingers into his shoulders. “Ash, the Sahar! Could you use the Sahar to blast our way out?”

He shook his head, killing her hope before it had barely budded. “I can’t use the Sahar . . . I already tried. It’s not attuned to me. And I can’t do anything with this damn collar on.”

“But . . . you destroyed the prefects’ magic depressor.”

“It requires a huge amount of concentration . . . I don’t think I could . . .”

She understood. He couldn’t do it because he couldn’t calm down. Even their short conversation wasn’t helping him; she doubted his thoughts were as coherent as his speech. His muscles quivered, his breath came in desperate pants, and his voice shook. He would probably rather die by torture than this fate.

She choked back a sob. That was it then. The air was starting to feel wrong in her lungs, thin and hot. Time was almost up.

“If I thought it could save us,” Ash whispered, “I would try. But I can’t blast a way to the surface without the whole house falling in on us.”

She nodded, touching the back of his neck to let him know she didn’t blame him. She tried to slow her breath but it was difficult to face death calmly. No other option but to accept the inevitable . . .

“What about the tunnel on our level?” she asked abruptly. “Could you blast an opening to it with magic?”

“Everything would cave in, and the force would probably kill you.”

Her hands trembled. She balled them up. “What about a series of small blasts? What if you punched a bunch of little holes and tunneled over to the opening?”

He sucked in a breath. “It still might cave in.”

“We’re dead anyway.”

He pressed his face against her throat. His fear was so bad he would rather die where he was than chance being even more buried.

“Ash . . . please. Let’s try.”

He nodded silently. He shifted his arms until he was propped on his elbows, both hands gripping the collar around his neck. The air began to heat. He muttered under his breath, using words to control and funnel his magic toward the collar.

He broke off mid-word, breathing fast. “I can’t get it out of my head. I can’t think,” he choked.

“You can do it.” She reached up and found his face. She stroked her fingertips across his cheeks, finding a pattern of scales across the tops of his cheekbones. “You’re stronger than anyone I know. You’re tougher than everyone. I know you can do this.”

She gripped his face in her hands, offering strength and steady calm through the surety of her touch. He stilled. After a moment, he started again, whispering the spell in words she couldn’t understand. The air heated, sizzled. His muscles bunched with effort, his body tensing.

The collar broke apart with a hiss of dying magic and disintegrating steel.

“You did it.” She threw her arms around him, hugging him tight. “I knew you could!”

He sagged on top of her, breathing hard, this time from exertion. He slid his arms around her and his wings curled down too, doubling the hug.

“That made me dizzy,” he said weakly. “I hate those damn collars.”

Piper let herself go limp, head lolling with relief and hope. Fear pounded beneath both. “I feel dizzy too.”

Ash stiffened. “We need to hurry.”

Their oxygen was almost gone.

“What first?” she demanded.

He nudged her as far over as possible in the tight space. She pressed into the rough dirt and he curled over her, shielding her with his body. She bit her lip, moved by his courage in the face of his worst fears. In spite of his own terror, he was still protecting her. A tear slipped down her cheek. He’d protected her life at every turn, and she’d been determined to hate him for the one selfish thing he’d done? No wonder Lyre had been angrier with her than with Ash.

With a deep breath, Ash stretched one hand toward the south wall of their hole. A shiver ran through him.

“This is it,” he whispered.

She found his other hand and squeezed it hard. Her heart pounded in her throat.

The air crackled. The blast hit the wall.

Dirt rushed over them in a wave. Ash hooked an arm under her and scooped her up as he half rose, pulling her out of the loose earth. She choked back a scream as she realized their hole hadn’t caved in—entirely. It was a lot smaller now.

Ash took a couple deep breaths. “If we push the loose dirt into the back corner, I can try again.”

“Right,” she agreed, grateful to disentangle herself. Her head spun. It was getting harder to breathe.

Together, with a lot of awkward collisions, they shoveled the loose dirt out of the way until they had a three-foot deep burrow leading out of their hole. Escape was only five feet away.

Ash blasted the wall a second time, strictly controlling the power. Again, the loosened earth tumbled down. They had farther to shovel and it took longer. Piper couldn’t catch her breath. Her lungs hurt and her head spun. There was no air.

The tunnel was smaller this time. Ash had to lie flat, Piper crouched behind him, as he stretched his hand toward the end. Neither of them wasted air speaking. The atmosphere crackled as he prepared for the last blast. If this one didn’t break through, they wouldn’t have enough air to try again.

The air rippled with the concussion. Dirt flew.

A breeze touched her face. Piper gasped it in and crawled desperately after Ash. The air grew cooler and fresher with each desperate breath. The exit to their rough tunnel was tiny, barely large enough for Ash to squeeze through. She shoved forward and the dirt under her hands dropped away. She fell out and landed on top of him. He grunted as her elbow dug into his stomach.

The stale, damp air of the tunnel never tasted sweeter. She breathed like she’d been drowning all her life. Ash lay on his back, chest heaving as he sucked in air. She flopped on him, resting her ear on his chest and listening to his heart pounding.

“I . . .” she panted, “am
never
 . . . going . . . in a cellar . . .
again
.”