Night Huntress (Otherworld/Sisters of the Moon #5)

Night Huntress (Otherworld/Sisters of the Moon #5) Page 7

“Damn it. I’m sorry,” she said, shaking away angry tears. “I missed, and my hand landed against one of the cuts on the creature.”

“Great Mother, that’s a nasty wound. You can’t stay here. We’ll just have to come back another day—” I started to say, but she shook her head.

“No! We can’t let them regroup. Find me something to wrap this up with, and I’ll just stay near the back.” She glanced over at Roz, who was digging through his coat. “You got any more of that salve you carry around with you?”

He held up a little jar. “Here,” he said, opening it and slathering a good spoonful over the open wound. “This will stave off the worst of the pain and infection for now. Just don’t get it dirty.” He pulled out a small roll of gauze from another pocket and began to wrap her hand.

“You’re not only a walking armory, but now you’re an infirmary, too?” I couldn’t help but smile. “Someday, I want to see everything you keep hidden in that coat.”

He gave me a long look. “Everything?” he said softly with a smirk.

“Give me a break. You know what I meant.” I let out a sigh. Once an incubus, always an incubus. He’d never change. I was just glad he was on our side. “Okay, change of plans. Camille, in back with Smoky. He can protect you best if we come across another big beastie. Morio, up front with me. Roz and Vanzir, take the middle.”

Vanzir pointed at the open door where the hellhound had busted through. “All right, but I think we found our nest. This is the door to the basement, it looks like, and there’s definite demonic energy radiating up the stairwell.”

I peered down the stairs. The light was dim, probably only a twenty-five-watt bulb. The stairs vanished into the darkness below. The scent of dung and fetid meat and sour milk rose from the depths.

“Cripes, that’s a nasty scent. My stomach’s testy enough as it is,” I said as I moved to the edge of the staircase. “I guess we go down?”

Vanzir nodded and handed me a broom he found in the corner. “You might want to test the way as you go, in case there are any traps or broken steps. The last thing we need is for you to go crashing down the stairs and break your neck.”

With that thought to cheer me up, I grabbed the broom, and we headed into the basement, one step at a time.

CHAPTER 5

My dagger in one hand, broom in the other, I stood at the top of the steps. I gingerly tapped the first one with the handle of the broom. The light flickered, the bulb old and ready to die. I glanced back at Morio, who followed me.

“Do you have a light spell in case that bulb goes out? I don’t want to go plunging into dark water, so to speak.” Truth was, I didn’t want to go down into this basement at all. For one thing, I was worried about Camille. For another, the thought of taking on poisonous creepy-crawlies didn’t interest me at all. Especially not after our run-in with the Hunters Moon Clan a few months ago. And third, well, I was hungry. My stomach rumbled at that moment, as if punctuating my thoughts. I ignored it.

Morio nodded. “I can use my fox fire. But if the light goes, everybody stop where you are. I can’t very well cast a spell while I’m tumbling down the steps.”

“Good point.” I cleared my throat and glanced over my shoulder. “Well, here goes nothing.” I put my foot on the first step. A little squeak, but nothing too terribly untoward. I gathered my breath and tapped the second stair. The third. The fourth. I was about to tap on the fifth when the light suddenly vanished. The bulb had burnt out.

“Everybody stand still.” Morio’s voice came out of the darkness.

I felt like I was poised on the edge of a chasm. The stairway into the basement was well over fifteen stairs down, because that’s as far as I could see when the light was still flickering. There might be another door waiting for us, or maybe a hallway or maybe a guard lurking in the depths below. I tried to reach out, to sense danger, but all of my senses were on overload.

Morio shouted and the dark well exploded into light as a green phosphorescence flickered from a foot-long wooden dowel he was holding. It lit up the passage a little better than the dim bulb had, though everything took on an eerie hue. I grimaced, thinking about all the late-night monster movies I’d made Menolly sit through with me. What we were facing was ten times worse, but still, images of nubile young women creeping down into underground tombs without a stitch of protection plagued me.

As I tapped my way down the next ten stairs, I had to duck my head as I passed beneath a crosshatch of beams that stretched over the stairwell to form a low overhead. I was the tallest one here except for Smoky—and Morio, in his demonic form. My head almost skimmed the bottom of one of the beams. Roz was two inches shorter than me, and Camille and Vanzir quite a bit shorter than that.

“Heads up,” I called back. “Low beam—watch yourself.” As I ducked to avoid another, a cobweb dangling from the beam brushed against my shoulders, tickling my neck. As the hanging dust catcher caught me off-guard, I let out a little shriek.

“Holy crap. Spiders. What the hell are they doing here? I hate spiders.” Truth was, I was on the verge of developing arachnophobia.

“What kind of webs?” Camille said from the back.

“The wrong kind,” I said grimly. “Keep your eyes peeled for hobo spiders.”

Morio grunted. “This is their kind of hangout, all right. I thought most of the Hunters Moon Clan was dead, though.”

We’d fought a powerful clan of werespiders not long back. Though we’d tried to take them all out, no doubt some had escaped, and they weren’t likely to be very happy with us.

“We can’t be too sure about that. Just keep your eyes peeled.”

As we descended into the lower region of the basement, more steps came in view and, about eight more feet down, a door at the end of the stairwell. Nestled next to the door was an alcove. I could already smell the stench of rotting meat coming from it. It was of the size and shape to house the hellhound, and a thick silver chain told me that the creature had served as a guard dog. The chain was smooth, the links strong and unbroken. Somebody had unleashed him to come after us. Whatever it was hadn’t stuck around to open the door at the top of the stairs. I figured they were probably as scared of their sentinel as we had been.

The door itself looked reinforced. As I neared it, the energy reached out and slapped me in the face. Hell. The door had some sort of heavy iron alloy in it—too much for our comfort zone.

“Crap. Iron. I can’t touch it. Camille can’t, either. Morio, what about you?” I paused on the step, not wanting to go any farther until we’d decided what we were going to do about it.

Morio stared at it. “I shouldn’t have any problem with iron. Smoky?”

“I’d like to see the piece of iron that could stop me,” said Smoky, his voice low.

I stared at him for a moment. “Pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?”

He sent a frozen glance my way. “Are you questioning me?”

Backpedal time. “Nope, nope . . . not in the least.” Camille’s husband or not, he was still quite capable of smashing little—or big—kitty cats, and I had no desire to put his patience to the test. Unnerved by the entire afternoon, I turned to Roz. “And you?”

“Well, I bloody well don’t like iron, but I’m not going to fry from it. At least not now,” Roz said. He edged his way past me and bent to study the lock.

I turned to Vanzir, and he shook his head. “Demons like iron. We use it a lot, actually, down in the Subterranean Realms. Iron, lead, uranium . . .”

“What?” Smoky sputtered. “You have uranium down there?”

Vanzir shrugged. “It’s like a drug for some demons. We resonate with the energy, though I don’t miss it all that much. Most of us are immune to its dangers. Some demons are hooked on it, and there are even uranium Elementals that wizards have managed to conjure out from the metal.”

I blinked twice. Uranium Elementals? Great, that’s all we needed over Earthside: a bunch of crazed uranium Elementals running around poisoning people. “Lovely . . . just lovely.”

Roz suddenly stood up. “I can blow this lock.”

“Won’t that bring the house down on us?” This day was just getting better and better.

“Not if I use just the right amount of explosives. I suggest that you turn away, though. There’s bound to be smoke and a little shrapnel. In fact, maybe you’d better retreat up the stairs a little ways.” He opened his duster and pulled out two smalls vials, one filled with black powder, another with red. “Myocian powder and alostar compound,” he said, noticing my gaze.

I immediately motioned everybody up the stairs. “Go halfway up,” I said, pushing against Morio’s back. Myocian powder and its companion, alostar compound, were made by the dwarves in the Nebelvuori Mountains back in Otherworld and had all the perks of gunpowder. When mixed in just the right proportion, it was extremely volatile. A single tap from a pen-sized mallet could set it off.

When I was a little girl, I’d seen a dwarf who lost his leg to a myocian land mine. The goblins had been using them in a crusade against the dwarves. The dwarves had opened up bounty season on goblin skulls, and shortly thereafter, the goblins had withdrawn their efforts to infringe on dwarven lands. The land mines ended up as a tool for mining operations.

“Where in the world did you get that crap?” Camille said, wincing as she leaned against Smoky’s shoulder. It was obvious she was in pain, but I knew she’d refuse to leave until we were finished.

“I picked them up in a little mining shop in Terial. They have everything you could hope to purchase to make your spelunking adventures complete.” He laughed, shooting a smoldering glance her way. “I like spelunking, if you know what I mean—” Smoky glowered, and Roz lowered his eyes. “Uh . . . never mind.”

“That’s better,” Smoky said, relaxing a little as he sat down on the step behind him and pulled Camille onto his lap. She winced, then rested her head on his shoulder.

Roz finished shaking a few of the grains of the black powder into the lock, then cautiously added a pinch of the red. He took out a thin, pencil-length rod, and with a shake of the hand, it expanded to four feet long. It was narrow but solid, and as he backed away to the bottom of the stairs, he reached out and delicately aimed toward the keyhole.

“I get it,” I said. “I see what you’re doing.”

“Yes, well, I strongly advise everybody to turn around. You don’t want to be facing this direction when it blows.” He twisted at the waist, turning his face toward the stairs, and we heard the scrape of metal on metal. There was a sudden hush, then a loud explosion, and the stairwell filled with dark, greasy smoke.

Coughing, I turned around. “Eww . . . that’s nasty.” The residue from the smoke began to settle on our clothes, leaving an oily silt behind. But the door was unlocked and standing ajar. I glanced back at Smoky. Spotless. As usual. “How the hell do you do it?” I asked.

He gave me a puzzled look. “Do what?”

“The coat, the jeans, the shirt . . . you’re never dirty. You never get muddy, dusty, filthy, or, apparently, oily. What the hell kind of laundry detergent do you use?” I stared down at my own jeans, which now sported several lovely looking grease spots. “I want some of it.”

He just grinned, saying nothing as he helped Camille to her feet, and they started down the stairs. “Why do you suppose nobody’s come after us?” he asked, his smile fading. “We’ve made more noise than a band of drunken Vikings on a rape-and-pillage mission.”

“And just what was the hellhound doing?” I started to ask, but Vanzir shook his head and held up his hand.

“He’s right. And my only answer is that I don’t think there is anybody here to stop us. I think there’s some sort of revenant or specter protecting the venidemons, watching over them as they hatch. I’m figuring we’re heading into a nursery. Want to make a bet they were counting on the hellhound to stop anybody trying to get through?” Vanzir studied the hallway. “There’s demonic energy coursing down the hall like a river gone wild.”

Camille closed her eyes, then shuddered. “Vanzir’s right. It’s undulating like a wave. There’s demonic energy everywhere down here.”

“Then we’d better get a move on. If you’re right,” I said, looking at the dream chaser, “then the protector of those venidemons is waiting for us at the end of the road. Along with the venidemons themselves.”

“Remember, they’re dangerous even when just hatched. They may not be able to inject their eggs at larval stage, but they can still do a lot of damage,” he said. “Whoever has the cold spells ought to go in front with you.”

“I don’t want to leave Camille unprotected,” Smoky said.

Morio turned to him. “I’ll watch out for her. You’re needed up here.” When Smoky hesitated, he added, “I’m her husband, too. You know I’ll protect her with my life.”

Camille let out a long sigh. “Get up there with Delilah, you butthead. Morio can help me.” When Smoky didn’t budge, she added, “I’ll be all right. I’m not stupid enough to put myself in the front lines as wounded as I am, but I’m not in danger of keeling over this second. Yeah, my hand burns like hell, but I’m not dying.”

He gave a resigned shrug and then traded places with Morio.

“Butthead?” I mouthed, flashing him a wide grin.