Yasmine Galenorn - Crimson Veil

Delilah let out a garbled reply. She’d been on the receiving end of their attentions before. The slimes acted a lot like the Blob—growing to encompass the host onto whom they attached themselves, and then they set about devouring—or rather absorbing—the creature. The thought that maybe they’d take care of the cockroach problem soon ran through my head, but I shook it away. Random thoughts could be dangerous, especially when we needed to focus.

Another moment, though, brought me to a ladder heading up. The tunnel continued, but the plans had shown that the first ladder south of where we entered the tunnel should take us up to an old manhole that was there when the building was built. Michael Farantino had simply built over it, agreeing to give city workers access to the tunnel through the basement if need be. Apparently back then, the city planners had been willing to agree, probably for a good-size sum of money, no doubt.

Grateful, I stood up. Even I’d had to bend over in here, and my back groaned a little as I reached up and grabbed the rungs, swinging myself up and onto the ladder. Within another minute, I was at the top, cautiously listening for any sound that might be coming from the basement. Here was where we were taking a big risk—we had no clue if anybody might be on the other side. But given the ritual was set for tonight in the underground levels of the building, my guess was they wouldn’t be guarding a lone manhole cover in the basement.

Carefully, inch my inch, I eased the cover up and to the side, then peeked out. The basement was dark, and I heard no breath, no sound of movement. Relieved, I swung myself up and out of the dank tunnel.

Within minutes we were all standing there, albeit dirty, grimy, and reeking like overripe sardines. Except Smoky, that is. As usual, his duster was sparkling white, his clothes were clean, if a bit damp, and he smelled like his usual musky dragon self. I wanted to smack him. It wasn’t fair.

Camille let out a long sigh, staring at her boots—which were ruined. There was no way to save suede after that little walk through the muck. Delilah didn’t look too happy either. Neither did the others actually. On the bright side, being in a grumpy mood might just make us fight harder and better.

Nobody spoke—we didn’t want to chance giving ourselves away—but we already knew what we were going to do. The broom closet that led to the hidden levels was one floor up, not on the main floor but a subfloor. We headed up to level S-1, taking the stairs rather than the elevator. There was no telling if the elevators had hidden cameras in them, and now was not the time to find out.

Level S-1 had an employee break room and several conference rooms on it. And the maintenance room. But… there to the right of the janitor’s closet was a narrow door. And that was our goal.

It was locked, of course. I just hoped nobody else was running late and would catch us in the act. From everything we knew about rituals—and Camille and Morio had performed a lot of them—most large-scale operations required an extensive setup period. Which meant, we were hoping, that everybody who needed to be downstairs in the temple room was already there.

Tanne motioned us back. He leaned over and began whispering to the lock. Again the incantation sounded like a low trill as he persuaded the lock to release and open. Another moment, and a soft click sounded, and the door sprang ajar. He quietly pushed it all the way open, and we were looking into a small, square room. No stairs. No nothing.

But Morio motioned for me to move to the side, and he stepped into the room, said something—he, too, barely whispered the words—and the outline of a door appeared. There was a handle, but no obvious lock.

“I’m not sensing any traps.” Morio reached for the handle. “I’ll bet if there were any, he had to disarm them to make sure nobody who was supposed to be down there set one off by accident.”

That made sense. But I stopped him.

“Let me go first. And Smoky. You get back with Camille and start prepping whatever spells it is you guys prep.”

“We can encircle the group with protection, but that would mean we’d have to take time to regroup if we need to fight.” He glanced around at the others. “You all willing to go in without our force field?”

“Better to have you guys on the offense, rather than worry about a little defense.” Vanzir held up his sword. It was a wicked little number, and it was barbed. When it thrust into someone, the barbs slid in smoothly, then flared out at the push of a button, making the return damned nasty.

With a deep breath, I looked at Smoky. He nodded, and I opened the door.

We found ourselves staring at a steep, spiral stairway. It wasn’t metal—but simple, concrete, spiraling down a pale cream-colored passageway. Brightly lit, it wasn’t at all what you would think of in terms of a hidden passage leading to an underground temple. But then, Lowestar was a pretty classy daemon when it came to style. I doubted he’d want anything remotely gothic. No cobwebs, no dust, no doom-and-gloom stone walls dripping with slime and moisture.

But the trouble with concrete stairs in a stairwell? They’re going to echo, no matter what you do. Still, we did our best to silently make our descent. By what the plans had shown us, there were three flights leading down to the temple area. A level above was used for… well, we didn’t know what the rooms there were used for. But the temple itself was the bottom, and that was where we were headed.

We passed the doorway leading into the floor above the temple, and I paused to press my ear against the door. There were muffled sounds on the other side—not a comforting thought. But we didn’t have time to explore. We were already running near seven thirty. We had half an hour to stop Lowestar from waking up Suvika.

Could he even do it? The question hung in the back of my mind, but the fact was that we just didn’t know. And since we didn’t know, we had to go on the assumption that he probably could. Better to overestimate someone than underestimate their abilities.

And then, turning the bend in the stairwell, I found myself facing a door. It was metal, and had ornate designs etched into it. I stood back, motioning for Morio and Tanne to step down and take a look at it. After a moment, both shook their heads—they didn’t have a clue—and returned to their places in line.

So this was it. According to the blueprints, this door led directly into the temple. And once I opened it, we’d be out of the frying pan, into the fire. And I’d had enough of fire to last me a lifetime.

A soft swish accompanied the opening door. Ready to pounce on the first sign of trouble, Smoky and I took in our surroundings.

The temple was lush—ornate. Marble lined the floor, and the walls were also marble, likely a façade but still beautiful. Ivory with veins of gold, the gleaming stone shimmered in the light of what looked like a thousand candles. I quickly realized they were flameless—no chance of using them to burn up the silk and velvet curtains that lined sections of the walls.

Columns were evenly spaced, Corinthian in design, with coiling, curving metal vines creeping out from their sides. Lush plants—ivy and fern and trailing jasmine—hung from the metal scrollwork, and the air here was vibrant and perfumed, as intoxicating as the sewers had been nauseating.

Near the back of the spacious hall, a tall throne carved in marble sat, its seat lined with what looked to be velvet cushions in gold and brown. Marble benches lined the walls, and an offering font sat in front of the throne, next to a giant altar stone. On the stone, chained with silver chains, lay a woman. Blond hair streamed over her shoulders and she looked still relatively young.