Green Flame Assassin (Demon Lord series, book 2) (41 page)

Kat spoke up, “Hey, I think I know where we are.  It shouldn’t be much further.”

We reached the spot where the ghost girl had disappeared.  Kat touched one of the pale, discolored old bricks in the tunnel wall, pushing it in.  She did the same to a couple of lower bricks.  A small part of the wall moved inward, brick separating from smooth-edged mortar.  A secret door.  I smelled dust and old leather within.

I waved everyone in.  “There you go.  Hurry along and I’ll give you some catnip.”

That got me a few dirty looks.  After a moment, I was alone in the outer tunnel, except for ghost girl.  She appeared right beside me. 

I turned to face her.  “Thanks, darlin’”

She curtsied and was gone.

TWENTY-NINE

“
Opportunity’s a door waiting to be kicked in.”

                                             
—
Caine Deathwalker

I went through the secret door and closed the way behind me by pulling a red lever set there for that purpose amid the well-oiled gears, pulleys, and chains that made up a rather complex locking system.  The device attached to the upper wall and the door looked old and intricate, like something from a steam punk anime.

Dwarf work, I think.

I crossed a five-foot tunnel that opened into a large, triangular space.  I was disappointed.  I’d wanted an ancient, subterranean Temple of Doom, or something like the Batcave.  Instead, I got industrial chic.  Florescent tubes added a harsh glare that spilled over me as I joined the toms and tabbies.  There were crates, A dozen cots with blankets and pillows, and a small refrigerator that hummed happily to itself, powered by a splice into a power line.  A kitchen area included a table, cutting board, a small microwave, a set of hot plates, and assorted paper cups, bowls, and plates.

Elsewhere, a construction site Porta Potty gave evidence that a skilled cat burglar used this lair.  Magazines and toilet paper were stacked outside the toilet door. 

Moving around, I didn’t see any air ducts, but a current of fresh air came in from somewhere. 

Segregated in the farthest point of the chamber, a nine-foot limestone statue almost scrapped the ceiling.  The stone figure was rough hewn, a woman with the head of a cat.  Her eyes were dark depressions, and her face lacked expression.  Her breasts were bare, but she wore a gold-painted skirt that brushed her ankles.  This was a poor man’s shrine to the Egyptian goddess Bast.  An uninspiring altar sat before her, a varnished, pine box that might doubled as a coffin in a pinch.  Or another place to sleep.  I’d went through a phase a while back where I used to sleep in one, but that was Gloria’s coffin and it smelled of her.

Ah, happy memories!

The tabbies pulled their cots over to a corner where stacked supplies gave them an illusion of privacy.  The toms took another area, turning a radio on low so soft rock stirred the shadows. 

Feather duster in hand, Cleo wandered over to the statue.  Like an adoring child, she stared up, as if into her mother’s face.  As I approached, she cleaned away offending dust and cob webs.  The duster wiped the statue’s face, and I thought I saw a faint topaz glow in the eye sockets.
 

I casually touched the statue and felt dormant power.  There was a buried presence here that might answer if called.

“You guys going to be all right down here?” I asked.

“Yeah, I think so.  Of course, if you need me and the girls—”

“No, but thanks for the offer.  Josh wants his people out of harm’s way while things get worked out, so that’s how we’ll play it.”

I turned and started to go.

Cleo stopped me with a hand on my arm.  “You’re going, now?”

“Yeah.”

“I won’t say be careful, just don’t get too crazy.”

“You know me.”

“Yeah, that’s why I worry.”

I crossed the room, passing Kat who was giving detailed instruction to a number of her
people.

She called after me, “Caine, wait up.  I’m going with you.”

“Like hell,” I said.  “Josh will rip me a new one if I let anything happen to you.”

Leading the way back to the secret door, she smiled.  “Then don’t
let
anything happen.”

Revving up the door controls, we went out, into the tunnels.  Touching key bricks caused the door to shut behind us.  Kat led us away through a section of tunnels and chambers that were new to me.  We walked a long while.  I had no idea of the direction, but we weren’t necessarily still in Old Sac.

“Are we just wandering aimlessly, looking for a way out that doesn’t involve a demon spirit?” I asked.

“Yeah, that’s the plan.”

“In that case, I think it’s time I took over.”  I pulled the red pearl out from under my shirt, stretching it out on its chain.  I created a mental picture of the Red Lady as I’d last seen her in her otherworld fortress, a place where time ran in circles, where there was supposed to be another, much older version of me residing.  During my last visit, that other me had avoided the younger me.  I’d been told this was to protect the timeline that had shaped him. 

Inside my head, I whispered,
Which way
?

The pearl warmed in my palm.  A ruddy light hazed the air around it.  No answering thought burst into my brain, but a soft pencil-thin beam of light shot ahead of us to a junction, a left turn.  Using the beam as a guide, we went on, around the corner, through several more tunnels, and ended at a dead-end where there’d been a cave in.

Kat said, “I’m impressed you actually asked for directions, but I don’t see it did much good.”

I looked up and smiled.  “Oh, I don’t know about that.”

She followed my gaze to a brick shaft that had an iron ladder inside it.  Her voice turned happy, “That chimney’s got to go someplace.  We may just have found a new entrance we can use to visit the warrens.”

“One way to find out.”  I pocketed my phone, leaving Kat’s as the only source of light.  I jumped, caught the bottom rung, and pulled myself up.  Once I got high enough to bring a knee up, the going went easier.  Six feet up, I banged my head into a lid.  I pushed, and cursed, and shoved some more.  Nothing.  The lid was stuck.  Too many years had gone by since anyone had opened it. 

Actually, that was good.  An unused door meant it was ours alone.   I rotated on the ladder, holding myself upside down by the strength of my arms alone, planting the soles of my steel-toed boots against the stubborn lid.  I kicked hard, one, twice.  The last kick moved the lid,
slanting one end up so a little gray light could filter down.

I was about to rotate again and use a shoulder to push out of the chimney, when Kat’s light went out.  I heard her leap and grab the ladder.  A moment later, she clambered past me like a cat outta hell. 

“I like my balls where they are!” I yelled. 
Damn, bitch almost made a eunuch outta me.  Millions of women would have mourned.

She forced the lid back and vanished from sight.  I climbed after her, emerging into a cramped space under a work table of some kind.  I put the trapdoor down and noticed that its edges almost disappeared in the filth in the floor.  Dust, grime, and oil clogged the air.  I ducked out from under the table, straightening up to look around.  Several windows high in one wall were caked with dust, turning sunlight gray as it slanted in.  The shadows of foot traffic moved across the windows.  There was an old water heater, cold, unlit, and several crates with clothes in them.  Boxes were marked “Christmas ornaments.”  One corner contained gardening tools.  Elsewhere, a sheet covered a car with flat tires.

I didn’t think anyone but Kat and I had been here in years, wherever here was.  Speaking of Kat…  “Kat, where are you?”

Feet came tromping down a rickety wooden staircase.  Halfway down, Kat squatted to look me in the eye.  “This way.  It’s an old house, antiques everywhere.  Come and see.”

Since it was the way out, I did as she said.  The steps creaked and groaned their resentment.  Through another door, I entered a kitchen with faded floral-patterned linoleum on the floor.  There was a kitchen table and chair set that had been new sixty years ago.  Yellowed lace curtains covered the kitchen window over the sink.  The faucet dripped;
thup … thup … thup… 
Both stove and oven were vintage, and probably broken.

I went into a living room where sheets covered chairs, couch, and a loveseat.  A book case was filled with heavy books.  Their spines were crumbling and too faded to read.  More windows let gray light seep through blinds.  One table with clawed feet had an old time radio on it.

“Okay,” I said, “we are officially in the Twilight Zone.”

Kat unlocked the deadbolt on the front door and went out onto a porch.  She froze, reading the address on the outer wall, then turning to see the street sign at a nearby corner.  I followed, closing the door behind me.  I passed her, heading down the sidewalk, taking note of a for sale sign that canted to the left, about to fall over.  I think whoever had once been trying to sale this property must have given up by now.  Looking back, I noticed that a fallen tree limb had punctured the roof in an upper bedroom.  Someone had packed the area around the hole with plastic tarps that were now sun-faded and fraying.

“Nice little fixer-upper,” I said.  “You can probably buy it cheap, maybe just by paying off the back taxes.”

“That would be great!” Kat said.

I stared at her.  “Seriously?”

“Owning the house would give us control of the backside of the warrens.  Also, we needed a new entrance no one else knows about.”

“Well, the house has a good foundation, sturdy walls.  Once it’s repaired, and brought up to code…”

“There’s potential.  I can see it.”  Kat walked over and plucked up the realty sign.  “I’ll just take this with me.”