Page 96 of A Subtle Scar
Chandler led us to stairs, warped and cracked with time. One wall showed signs of water damage, mold growing in like a shadow.
What was missing were the people, though we could smell them, stronger now than before, and with that stench, something else as well, something darker, more familiar.
“Earth,” Hermes said when he hit the bottom of the stairwell.
He stopped, and I held Chandler back, although our boyfriend wanted to move on, forward to the scar in the wall, broken concrete with thick darkness leeching out.
It was impossible to say whether this tear had been made intentionally, whether it was something the inhabitants of the bunker had found one day as a result of natural damage and then enlarged it, or whether there was some magical reason for it being here. Either way, this tiny universe these people had lived in for however many years had opened up, at least a fraction, through this scar in the wall.
There were no spells or wards that Hermes and I could find, and so, we moved forward.
Before Chandler could switch on his illumination spell, Hermes made one, a huge moth whose wings powdered the darkness with light.
I had no doubt that he wanted to impress Chandler with the pretty thing, but that was the issue with humans after intense trances: their single-mindedness could get them killed. And pretty things would not distract them from potential danger.
“A butterfly of the night sky,” I told Hermes. “You can make a few for my bedroom.”
“Well, since you ask so nicely.”
Hermes went through the hole in the wall first, and he had to wiggle a bit because of the sheer size of him. The butterfly followed, and once he was on the other side, Hermes lifted Chandler slightly. The edges of the concrete were sharp, just like the stones beyond there.
I had to bend over too, but once on the other side, I breathed a sigh of relief. The air was nicer here, and it didn’t feel as oppressive.
“This is a natural cave system I think,” Hermes said.
“Agreed,” I said. “And it offered a sort of escape from that bunker I should think.”
We followed the cave. I’d visited mines with uniform shafts, but this was not that. When something grew in nature, it was rarely that neat. This cave, walls curving and twisting, had grown from nature. At times, we could walk with Chandler between us, elsewhere, it was single file with some squeezing for Hermes and even me at one point. Chandler’s suit looked worse for the wear as did all our clothes, and Hermes would probably use that to drag all of us back to Geneva’s designer stores.
“I can hear them,” Chandler finally said.
Echoes floated toward us through the dark. A choir of voices, more people than should ever live beneath the earth.
“This is like that horror movie,” Hermes said.
I hoped he was wrong about that.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Itwastextbook,really,in the sense that it was doing every single thing the textbook told you not to. Going into some bunker without backup was not advised. Exploring a bunker and then going into some shady cave it connected to was even less advised.
“Ronny,” I whispered.
“Darling, do not call me that.”
“Right. Charon. Anyway. I think that was a trance, earlier. I need to go on.”
“We know it was a trance, darling. Do you need to go toward the voices?”
I nodded, not sure they could see that. “Yeah. They…I think there’s something there?”
“Maybe we should go check out Lascaux for a weekend trip soon,” Hermes said. “Or…there are so many less touristy caves all over the place. I say we pick one, pack some food and a blanket or two, and spend a night.”
“Keep your head out of everyone’s pants for long enough to satisfy our boyfriend in his current state, will you?”
I could barely engage with the two of them. We were too loud, weren’t we? Even whispers carried, and all the corners in these cave walls birthed echoes.
I tried casting a ward, but never even got the chance to anchor it properly. Everything happened all at once, as these things often do.
