Undertow (The UnderCity Chronicles) (23 page)

The last mark was on her left breast right above the cut of her bra. When he raised his head from it, his fingers took to stroking the black lace. The nipple hardened. He paused. He hadn’t intended that. He only wanted to make her feel better, not to turn it into sex.

He looked up to tell her that.

Her expression had softened, taken on that same languidness as when he’d had her on the bed and not this god-awful rat rug. She covered his hand on her breast with her own, guided his thumb back to her nipple. “Aches there, too.”

He sucked in his breath, and easily popped open her bra clasp to expose her perfect breasts. He lowered his mouth—

A gunshot rang out. Then several more, followed by the shrieking of women and children.

“Fuck!” Jack snarled, his voice alive with frustration as much as alarm. Lindsay looked up at him startled and confused, and he gave her a short, hard kiss. “Stay here.” He pulled his boots on, seized his gun, and backhanding the curtain open, he left, torn from her again.

Lindsay grabbed her gun, backpedaling to the rear of the cinderblock hut, and trained it on the entrance. Crouched there, she clicked the light on and the safety off, ready for anything.

She strained to hear what was happening, especially anything from Jack or Reggie. A couple of times she picked out Reggie’s booming bass, but nothing from Jack.

Long minutes passed, no more shots were heard, and the sounds of Agharta’s startled inhabitants settled, too. Lindsay was patting through the gear for her pants when the curtain billowed inwards.

Jack caught her in her underwear and a gun aimed at his heart. He drew a deep breath. “Get dressed, Linds. We’ve got to get out of here.”

“What happened?” she said, securing the safety before turning to her clothes.

“A Mole.”

Lindsay’s hands stilled on the waistband of her jeans. “What? Here?”

“Neil spotted it on the outskirts and scared it off with a warning shot. It was likely a scout, though they don’t usually come up this far. We can’t stay here any longer.” Jack pulled a face. “Our showing up and its appearance are no coincidence. Dammit, I knew that I’d heard them back in The Gallery. Should’ve trusted my instincts. Now the entire camp is at risk. They can’t defend themselves.”

Lindsay thought of the number they’d done on her, and begged to differ. If anyone could stand up against the Moles it would be these women protecting their young. Still, this wasn’t their battle to fight, and that was the point. She pulled a t-shirt over her head, and when she could see again, she could tell Jack had been looking at her naked torso.

His eyes met hers. “You need to get yourself checked out before we go.”

“Jack, I told you—”

“And I’m telling you, you’re getting yourself checked out.” He grabbed his stuff and shoved it into his bag. “I’ll meet you outside. Hurry up.”

“My bruises are not your fault, and neither are the Moles,” she said softly.

He was at the door, his hand on the tarp. “You’re not the only one who’s wanted to make things right.” He hitched his gun over his shoulder. “I’ll wait for you outside. And kill the candles on your wait out.”

The hospital was a hut constructed completely, straight down to the door, in corrugated metal. Jack tapped on the door and pushed it open. “No one’s here. Go in and I’ll send someone over. I’ll be by the fire when you’re done. Okay?”

Lindsay slipped inside and sat on a low wooden bench that ran along one wall. The only light from a large kerosene lamp that hung from a hook in the middle of the ceiling was sufficient to make out her surroundings. The place was large compared to its neighbors, roughly the size of an ambulance’s interior, and like an ambulance, it was fitted with rows of cupboards stuffed with assorted medical supplies and equipment.

She expected Shamba, but it was not to be. Gali banged open the door and unbuckled her bandolier of knives, draping them over a peg above the bench as if it were an old coat. She stared down at Lindsay, her eyes like the cold gleam of her blades. Instinctively Lindsay squared her shoulders.

The two faced each other in a silent showdown. It was Gali whose gaze shifted away first, though her next words showed that she was only changing tack.

“Strip. I need to see where you’re injured.”

Lindsay opened her mouth to tell her what to do with that directive, then thought better of it. If Lindsay refused treatment, Gali wouldn’t care, and it would appear that she was disobeying Jack. So with as much nonchalance as she could muster, she shed clothes until she was left shivering in her underwear.

Gali inspected the numerous bruises. Lindsay was tempted to say that Jack had kissed them all better. There were a few places where she’d been struck hard enough to draw blood, and these Gali began to clean with a stinging antiseptic, pouring on way more than necessary in Lindsay’s opinion. Even the follow-up bandages were pressed forcefully onto her broken flesh. It was as if she was getting a beating all over again. Determined not to show pain, Lindsay focused on the erratic patterns of shadows that the lantern cast on the walls.

Gali was applying a bandage on Lindsay’s upper thigh with enough force to embed it there, when she spoke. “You know how long I’ve lived in these tunnels?”

Lindsay shook her head.

“Fifteen years. Ever since I was thirteen. A friend of mine brought me down here to have my baby.”

“Oh…”

“I wasn’t a whore, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“I wasn’t thinking that at all.”

“Then what were you thinking?”

“That thirteen’s very young to be having a baby.”

“It is,” Gali’s voice was clipped. “I guess some men don’t care much about that. That’s why I came down here. So my baby wouldn’t be put through the same shit I was.”

“That’s brave of you.”

Gali finished the bandage with one final tight yank. “Didn’t do any good. I lost her at birth. Would have died myself if it wasn’t for Shamba.”

Lindsay didn’t know what to say. This was Gali’s tale of brokenness, part of the anthology everyone in the tunnels had contributed to. What else could have brought them to this dark and dangerous world? Seline was constantly telling her about the people who fell through the cracks in the system. Here they were, having literally dropped past sewers, holes, tunnels to land in this pit. And yet they called it home, a place to raise a family.

As sad as Gali’s story was, Lindsay knew her sympathy wasn’t wanted. She looked the woman in the eye. “Why did you tell me this?”

The answer came quick. “So you know that you're no match for me. Jack needs to be down here. You're just a
topsider
.” The last word was spat out like poison.

Lindsay hopped off the table, landing so she was chest to chest, nose to nose with her rival. Because Gali was a rival, intent on stealing Jack away from her and in so doing, dragging him into the underground where he would once again lose himself in this soul-shriveling world.

“It’s because I
am
a topsider that Jack needs me. He had a whole year to come back to you, and he didn’t. That should tell you something, Gali. He wants to be up in the world, and I give him reason to be there.”

Gali’s lips curled, and she tapped her head. “In his mind he never left. That’s where it counts. He’s come back and this time he’ll stay. You’ll see.”

The steely confidence in the woman’s voice chilled Lindsay, not because she believed her but because she could see that Gali believed it. And any woman who carried knives as easily as another woman did a purse would likely fight for her convictions.

Lindsay stepped around Gali and began pulling on her clothes. This little doctor’s visit was over as far as she was concerned, and from the way the woman was tossing the bandages back into the kit, the feeling was mutual.

Gali was done first and, leaning against the wall, watched Lindsay put on her boots. “The tunnels have a way of keeping people, even if they don’t want to be kept.”

Lindsay yanked on her laces. “I think Jack’s strong enough to make his own choices.”

“Then what is he doing back here?” Gali retorted. “Last time he walked out of here I was sure I’d never see him again. Especially considering his wife.”

Lindsay felt a sudden buzzing in her ears, as if the breath had been knocked out of her. It was only good luck that she was bent over her boots, otherwise her face would’ve betrayed her. She licked her lips. “Wife?”

Lindsay had aimed for casualness. It didn’t work. Gali gave a laugh of pure pleasure, like a chess player who'd discovered the winning move. “You don’t know about her? Well, well. Jack always was good at keeping secrets, though I didn’t think he was the cheating type. Not that it would’ve mattered to me. I’m not so hung up on the marriage thing. You’ve probably fallen for all that romantic crap. Probably why he kept his mouth shut about it.”

Lindsay remembered Jack’s version of events. “How do you know that he didn’t just say that? Did you consider it was his way of cooling the hots you had for him?”

Gali’s eyes flared at Lindsay’s goading question, though her smile didn’t fade. “If you don’t believe me, ask Reggie.”

It riled Lindsay that Gali should know more about Jack than herself, and made her sick to know that Jack hadn’t shared that intimate detail.

“I guess I will.” She sounded like a pathetic little girl trying to stand up to a bully. “I suppose that’s the Tasha you mentioned before.”

“Sure is."

No wonder Jack hadn’t wanted to talk about the mystery woman. Was she involved with a married man? Why then wasn’t he living with his wife?

He said he’d only marry for love. He said that if he couldn’t be with the woman he loved he wouldn’t want to be friends, either. So either she was dead or they were divorced. Either way, she felt heartsick. For him. And for herself.

“Anyway, I’m sure Jack can mind his own
affairs
,” Gali said, opening the tin door with a grand sweeping motion.

Lindsay stood with as much dignity as possible. “Thanks for your help,” she said with absolutely no sincerity.

Gali smirked. “My pleasure. The pain will stop soon enough, I’m sure.”

Lindsay knew the woman wasn’t referring to the bruises.

* * *

One look at Lindsay’s grim expression and Jack knew that Gali had got to her. God knows what had been said, but considering that Lindsay was looking at him with all the suspicion of an alley cat, he guessed it was about Tasha. And once again, there was no time to deal with it. Maybe that was a good thing. Better for now to focus on the reason that they were down in these godforsaken tunnels in the first place.

They left Agharta via a crawlway, squeezing down its narrow passage until it opened into a larger tunnel. Reggie led the way with Lindsay steps behind, and him on her ass. She stumbled once, quickly righting herself, though he knew that with her injuries, it was all she could do not to slow them down any more than she was. Still he crowded her every step, silently urging her on.

His eyes were peeled, his ears strained for all sounds. Reggie would be doing the same, but Jack had more experience. The Moles weren’t near, but they were coming. The scout would’ve reached The Pits by now, and his old keeper would be plotting moves on Jack. Perhaps the things were already on their way up. He needed to get Lindsay and Reggie behind the secure walls of Seneca.

The passages were becoming older now, the concrete hallways giving way to moldering brickwork and hewn rock. They wove their way through endless dark corridors, some hot and misty with steam, others cold and slippery with ice, till at last they emerged into a large circular chamber, its walls supported by massive stone arches and lined with countless dust-covered bottles. The air stunk of acid, and he saw Lindsay wrinkle her nose.

“What’s this?” she whispered, following Reggie’s beam of light over the ceiling-high racks easily containing a thousand bottles. She answered her own question. “A wine cellar.”

Reggie pulled out a bottle at random and held it up for her to read the label.

“Oh my God, that’s a 1905 Latour…do you know what that bottle is worth?”

Jack could’ve spent a day here with Lindsay, showing her the links between the bottles and New York’s history but, as usual, there was no time. “Probably not much,” he cut in. “All of this is vinegar by now, otherwise someone would have looted it. Let’s keep moving. We’re almost there. This cellar is on the outskirts of Seneca.”