Page 76 of Spelunking Through Hell

The air in Naga’s compound was warm and moist, and all too familiar. We didn’t see anyone as we hurried down the hall to my room, where we set about ransacking the place, shoveling weapons, ammunition, and emergency supplies out of the primary dresser until my bag was filled to overflowing, then moving on to the duffels Sally and Thomas both carried.

“Are you sure you want protein bars more than you want another change of clothing?” asked Thomas.

“I can usually scavenge something to wear; something to eat and something to shoot can be a lot harder,” I said. “Priorities are good.”

“If you’re not taking all these clothes, can I have some?” asked Sally. “Fluffy robes aren’t exactly my style.”

“It’s not a robe, it’s a chiton, and sure,” I said, gesturing toward the appropriate dresser. “Knock yourself out.”

Sally set about rummaging with the enthusiasm of someone who had spent the last of her teenage years in a post-apocalyptic hellscape, even leaning her spear against the wall as she looted my wardrobe. Even accounting for our collectively limited carrying capacity, she was able to find a few shirts and a pair of black leggings that fit her, which she changed into in the corner while Thomas politely averted his eyes. I kissed him on the cheek, picking up my pack.

It rattled. I’d need to repack everything once we were finished, since it’s not actually safe to have a weapons cache that rattles. But that could happen after we finished dealing with our business here.

“I’m good to go,” I said. “Sally, you want to stay here and keep going through things, or you want to come with us?”

“Will I be allowed to join in the violence?”

“No, probably not.”

“I have quite a bit of pent-up aggression looking for a target, and the man who spent fifty years lying to and torturing my wife seems like an excellent outlet,” said Thomas, cracking his knuckles.

Sally blanched. “I’m good, I’ll stay here.”

“We don’t actually know that he was lying to me,” I said, leading Thomas to the door. “Maybe he didn’t know.”

“You told me what you realized about the carvings on the ceiling,” said Thomas. “He’s a historian. Do you truly believe he didn’t know?”

“No,” I admitted.

“Even if he didn’t, there’s still the matter of skinning you alive and modifying your memories to keep you under his control. I won’t pretend I can forgive either one of those things. The two of them together... I’m sorry. This has to happen.”

“I know.” I’d never be able to rest knowing that he was still out there, that he might decide to come for me after everything. This was the only way.

We stepped out into the hall and started toward Naga’s office. If he wasn’t there now, he would be eventually, and we could wait for him until he came back. We were about halfway there when the feline tattoo artist stepped out of one of the smaller rooms and stopped, blinking. He looked genuinely surprised to see me.

“We were told our services would no longer be required,” he said. “My apologies. We’re not ready for you.”

“That’s cool because they’re not,” I said. “We’re just going to see the man in charge, and then we’re out of here.”

“If you’re sure...” he said uncertainly.

Thomas looked at him, expression cold, and the artist backed away.

“My apologies,” he repeated, turned around, and fled.

“You’re cute when you’re terrifying,” I said, and resumed walking.

“Am I?” asked Thomas.

“Why do you think I’m so into you?”

“Well, Ididmarry you, and I understand many people like that sort of thing...”

The door to Naga’s office was blessedly ajar. I pushed it open and there he was, behind his desk as he so often was, bent over a scroll. Thomas and I stepped inside, stopping just past the threshold.

“Office hours end in fifteen minutes,” said Naga, not looking up. “I hope your matter is a quick one.”

“Good thing we’re not here for office hours,” I said.

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