Page 46 of Blood from the Marrow
“What you’re asking…” Hel’s eyes softened for Librada, and Zuri read a world of old pain laced through vestigial love.
“I know,” Lib admitted quietly.
Hel’s broad shoulders dropped when she exhaled her resignation. “You make a single dodgy move?—”
“I won’t,” Marisol promised, darting forward like she didn’t want to chance Hel changing her mind.
She moved too fast and Zuri’s instinct propelled her to follow. Elena caught her by the wrist. The contact with her skin shocked Zuri into stopping.
“If you two won’t stay put—” Hel started, but Zuri didn’t let her finish.
“We will,” Zuri promised, eyes on Lib and silently begging her to take care of Marisol.
And then Marisol was following Hel into a hole in the ground and Zuri was trying not to puke.
Chapter Twenty
When Hel saidthey were going into a crypt, Marisol hadn’t had time to think about what that meant. Even if she had, she wouldn’t have imagined something so beautiful.
Intricately cut stone archways lead to domed chambers with Byzantine art in muted yellows and oranges and reds in every room. She wished she’d worn something warmer than a thin cable knit sweater, but the experience was worth the damp cold.
At first glance, Marisol would have expected to see the male saints typically painted in the style, but small lights installed unobtrusively in the ceiling showed fierce women. Hecate with her mythical lantern and loyal dogs. Hera, mouth open and expression fierce, pointing a scepter.
Marisol gawked with her eyes trained on the ceiling. She was going to ask who was buried in the massive stone caskets visible in some of the chambers, but Hel stopped their advance with a raised hand.
“Damn, flooded again,” Hel groused.
Marisol glanced down at the geometric designs of the marble floor. Ahead of them, the maze of chambers had several inches of standing water.
“The long way it is, then,” Hel said as if in secret conversation with someone and led them left.
Not hiding her interest in seeing more of the vast underground structure, Marisol risked asking questions. Despite her tough appearance, Hel happily told Marisol what all the different scenes represented. Engaged in the role of tour guide, Hel looked disappointed when they arrived at a set of narrow steps leading up to an arched door. It looked identical to the other doorways they’d seen and she couldn’t imagine ever memorizing the layout.
“Sabina is only expecting you, Victor.” Hel’s attention bounced between Marisol and Lib. “She hasn’t seen a new face in a hundred years. And a non-vampire… I’m not sure how long on that one.”
Marisol furrowed her brow. Before she could ask if that meant she was supposed to stay by herself in the crypt that suddenly felt like a suffocating tomb, Hel continued.
“There is an antechamber in her quarters.” She looked at Lib. “Suppose it’s a good thing you’ve apparently been inseparable. You share a scent.” Her gaze flickered back to Marisol. “You should be undetectable as long as you remain silent.”
The sound of dripping water and other creepy echoes made Marisol nod furiously. She might not be able to ask questions, but relaying what Sabina said in her own words had to go a long way with the other Aglion. They’d have to accept it as a show of good faith that as soon as Sayah was dealt with, they’d turn all their resources on helping them. Rescuing them from ignorance and fear. Liberating them to choose whatever life they wanted.
“Let’s get to it, then.” Hel climbed the steps and pushed open the wooden door.
Marisol held her breath and followed.
Walking into a storybook fever dream, it only took a second to realize they were in the bell tower. The antechamber in thesprawling cylindrical room was wall-to-wall books. The enclosed space had its own walls, but not its own ceiling, giving the entrance an expansive feeling.
Stairs without handrails snaked the visible part of the tower, creating rooms where none had probably existed. Marisol’s gaze floated to the top several landings high and wondered what it would be like to look down from what she guessed was a loft. A little nest perched over heaven.
Hel touched her arm lightly to get her attention. When Marisol looked at her wonderstruck, Hel gave a knowing little smile. Then she tipped her head and put her finger over her own lips to remind her to be quiet. Silently promising to stay rooted to the stone floor, Marisol nodded.
She couldn’t help peering inside when Hel pushed the door open, Lib stepping in behind her. Hel had asked her not to move, but there was no rule against peeking. Marisol caught the briefest glimpse of curly black hair woven into a long braid before Lib left the door open only a crack.
After greeting each other somewhat warmly, Librada launched into her plea for help. Marisol would’ve given anything to be able to see Sabina’s expressions as she listened, because she didn’t make a single sound while Librada talked. She didn’t interrupt. Didn’t ask questions. Didn’t give up a single clue about what she thought of the Aglion.
Sabina didn’t say a single word until she uttered the sentence that made Marisol’s heart sink into her sour stomach.
“I’m afraid I cannot help you, Librada,” she said, her accent impossible to identify. “There are a few mentions of what I suppose are these Aglion in our histories, but they were myths propagated by witches during the Great Wars. I have never seen any credible evidence that the creatures existed.”
