Page 100 of Monsters in Love

She prayed that was the case—afraid to imagine what else could lie along the tunnel’s floor.

Coughing, trying to catch her breath, she tried to get her bearings. Her hand closed over a stick and she clutched it close as she got to her feet. Thank the fallen gods, she needed such a thing.

Though more than a blessing, she needed light.

The farrier would proclaim it darker than a bull’s arsehole, and Belle wouldn’t have argued.

It was pitch black in the tunnels.

The darkest space she’d ever seen, even darker than the cupboard she’d hidden inside as a child. She blinked, willing her eyes to adjust to the pitch, yet she couldn’t even see her own hand before her face. Though… was that a lighter patch over there? She crawled toward it, and realized the faint light must mark where the grate covered the entrance above. Lighter, and it was as dark as her bedroom at night.

Still, there was enough illumination for her to see her fingers, and to pull the waxed cloth and flint from her corset.

She started to call out for Emmi. Stopped herself.

Don’t make your sister a target.

She froze, listening carefully for the distinctive sound of scratching. A sound she searched for almost every day for the past year—only this time, there was no street between her and the demons. The scratch of claws reached her. Faint, but she’d swear it was growing louder with every beat of her heart.

But they are not here yet. No one had expected a sacrifice this evening, not even the demons. She had to use that advantage. Ready the supplies she’d hidden on her person and find her sister. She hurriedly wrapped the cloth around the bulbous end of the stick she’d found.

“Emmi,” she whispered. “Emmi, where are you?”

No voice answered.

Her eyes were starting to adjust to the gloom, and she could make out rough shapes around her. But she couldn’t find anything resembling her sister. Where was Emmi? What if her sister had landed badly, hit her head on the rock and been knocked unconscious?

She clutched her flint, hesitating to light her makeshift torch.

The waxed fabric wouldn’t burn for very long, and she needed to make every moment of flame count. As far as she knew, light was the only thing that could keep the demons at bay.

Holding tight to her unlit torch, she scanned the area.

“Emmi,” she called, a little louder this time. “Emmi, where are you?”

“Belle?” A shaky voice answered from a distance.

“Oh, thank the gods.” A relieved breath escaped her. She squinted into the darkness, trying to find her sister. Was that a darker blot ahead? A tunnel opening perhaps…

She nearly smacked herself.

Of course, it was a tunnel. She knew it was a tunnel, because she’d marked it on her map.

Good grief, she needed to pull herself together. She’d charted every possible turn of the labyrinth beneath her town. If she’d stop to think for a moment, she’d remember how tunnels branched from the grate in the square, spreading through the town like cracks in a glass. If the grate was at her back, then the far tunnel to her left should wind north to the Keep.

“Belle?” her sister called. “Where are you?”

“Hold on, Emmi,” she said. “I’m getting us out of this.”

One arm outstretched before her so she didn’t walk nose-first into a wall, one clutching her unlit torch, she inched toward the opening.

The space where the tunnels and the Keep collided was the largest stretch of tunnels she hadn’t charted. Surely there had to be some way to escape the labyrinth. If they emerged from the tunnels, the bishop would have to declare Emmi redeemed. Then she could tell all their neighbors how to survive, and no one else would be lost to the demons.

With each step, the scratching became louder.

She hurried forward, and smacked right into a wall.

“Ouch.” Wincing from the jolt, she used the wall to guide her and walked as fast as she dared. Behind her, wavering cries began to build in volume, bouncing off the walls.

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