Page 43 of Katya and the Young God

After a great, shuddering breath, Nathan pitches forward, his cheek leaning against the stone, and he coughs. Once, twice, a trickle of blood forming around his lips, and then—

Nothing.

The cave trembles around them, like it’s breathing a sigh of relief, and the stone slides away, leaving a pathway made from the same black stone. Nathan’s body slumps to the side, finally falling away from the stone.

Like a spell has been cast, everyone’s silent, except for the small, quiet sobs of Charlotte, as she clings onto the arm of her friend. Feketer releases his grip on the wiry man, who doesn’t move, staring at Nathan’s body.

No one speaks as Pieter steps over the body, into the hallway of black stone. He pauses at the threshold, before turning back to the group.

“It’s safe,” he says, his voice even. Like he didn’t just cause the death of someone. “We can walk here.”

No one moves, as he stands there alone.

And Katya has her orders.

So she shoulders her bag and steps forward, over the threshold, not looking down at the body, and a small chill goes down her spine the moment she steps over, but…

But nothing else.

In the hallway, Pieter gives her a wild-eyed look, like he can’t believe she’s the one that stepped over, that she would do such a thing.

So she gives him just as small of a nod as he had given her, and sees the understanding cross his face like a slap.

Quick as a snake, he grabs her by her uninjured arm and yanks her close.

“Why would you trust that?” He whispers, his voice hushed and urgent, as the others behind them seem to be contemplating whether or not to follow. “Why follow me back here?”

She resists the urge to jerk herself back, instead stilling herself, calming her pulse and looking directly into his wild gray eyes. “If you wanted to kill me in particular, you would have done so right then.”

He blinks, but doesn’t release her arm, his jaw working. “You were scared of me, then.”

There’s something hidden in his voice, something significant that she’s not seeing, but she soldiers past it.

“Who wouldn’t be?” She whispers back, and again, it’s like she slaps him. “You could have chosen any of us to die. Only a fool wouldn’t be scared.”

“What’s in this for you?” Finally, he whispers, his eyes going soft and confused. “Everyone else has their motivations, everyone else has their reasoning, but not you.”

This time, she easily shakes off his hand, and he lets her. “I have my orders.”

Feketer’s footsteps echo behind them, as he finally gets the courage to follow them in, and he gives them a wary look as he approaches.

Awkward, as if he’s unable to figure out how to deal with whatever situation he’s just been dropped into, Pieter nods at him in greeting, like a guilty child.

“That was less death than I expected,” Feketer says, his voice neutral, but there’s a kernel of truth in the middle of it. “Thought it would need most of the humans.”

He doesn’t look at her, but the absence of it prickles against Katya’s neck.

“Last thing we need is a cave going bloodthirsty,” Pieter says, finally, after a too-long pause. “We don’t want to give it too much.”

And that’s vague and pretty sounding, and makes absolutely no sense.

“Well, I would like a lot less death in the future,” she says, as government official-like as she can, but it sounds much more like her from the army than her from the Organization. “Feel anything up ahead that could need it?”

Feketer shoots her a disbelieving look, but Pieter falls silent, looking down, his eyes unfocused, and she’s been around enough magic users that she knows when one is concentrating on something outside of themselves. But it’s not as easy of a look, not as natural.

Further solidifying that something else is up, something has happened to his powers, and it’s not as comforting as it should be.

“A room...” he speaks, faltering, “a room with spikes, there’s a haze of something.” He blinks at nothing, at the blank stone in front of him. “There’s something there that makes something shift.”

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