The Sunken Tower Page 13

  “I haven’t driven that much in snow,” Melanie confessed. So far, so good, but her confidence in these conditions was waning. Elise lived in Colorado; she was probably a lot more experienced.

  “I have us shielded,” Elise said. “Steer into the slide if we hit one. Even if we go off the road, the shields should keep us protected.”

  Melanie nodded. “I think we should stop here at least, so I can get out and check to see where we are.” She stopped and put the Fiat in park, then opened the door. Yes, they were on the lake road.

  The snow came down fast, and it’d already mostly obliterated the road. She could barely see the tower faintly gleaming eerily through the precipitation. At least there weren’t skaters and kite-sailors out on the lake now. They had the sense to go in. Or the rental places shut them down, more like. Pity they were probably spending their vacations stuck inside, but it was safer for the tourists and the inevitable first responders who had to rescue them and auspicious for their purposes.

  “Pretty much proves our theory.” Melanie got back in and moved the car onto the paved shoulder so it wouldn’t be so likely to get hit if anyone else was crazy enough to get out and drive in these conditions. She turned to address her companion. “Now, how do we get to the tower? Warning: I have much more experience driving in the snow than I do ice skating.”

  “I will make a short-distance Way,” Elise said. “I think if we transport to the tower, we can climb down into the church and access the tunnels beneath.”

  “It makes sense, but what about the church being flooded and full of dragons?”

  “Magic could be keeping the church from flooding. We won’t be able to tell until we get there and then we just go back if we cannot get in. If the church’s flooded, we’re going to have to turn around and try some other way—maybe scuba gear or a more localized shield that we can dive in,” Elise said. “If it’s dragons, I will shield us, of course, which would provide some protection from dragons seeing us. I’ll also keep the short-distance Way open for a quick return trip should we need to escape in a hurry.”

  “I can send you power,” Melanie offered. That was one thing she’d managed to do, but she suspected it had more to do with Elise’s ability to accept and channel her raw fae power rather than her own ability to gift it to her.

  “No,” Elise shook her head. “Keep your power handy in case you need to throw it at a dragon.”

  “Petrify worked brilliantly on those green guys in the Way,” Melanie said, still feeling a bit ill. They weren’t human, she knew that. Someone had created them as temporary assassins. A scathingly brilliant move. They couldn’t testify against their maker, but their magic could have been traced back to that person—if they’d had time to take its measure before she’d turned them into green goon slushies. “I think I need to learn Faery. There’s a language failure somewhere.”

  “I think you’re right. Marcus knows Faery,” Elise agreed absentmindedly.

  Melanie’s teeth gritted. Of course her betrothed knew Faery. Unfortunately, Marcus wasn’t stepping forward to teach it to her. They were going to have a nice, long talk, as soon as she could get him to answer his phone.

  Elise stepped out of the car and appeared to visually calculate the distance from the shore to the church steeple.

  Melanie reluctantly shut off the engine, got out, and locked the Fiat.

  “Have I mentioned I bloody loathe snow?”

  “I think you’ve said that once or twice…every time it’s snowed.” Elise chuckled, made a gesture with her right hand, and a shimmering Way appeared in front of them.

  This trip through the Way was not like any of the others she’d made previously. There was no crossroads with the inevitable temptation offered by various creatures of questionable character. No jazz clubs, dessert shops, or bizarre toy stores with merchandise that’d keep you awake at night for fear of dreams. Melanie stepped out onto an invisible bridge, which literally covered the distance between their location and the steeple. Walking on the bridge was like wearing a pair of seven-league boots. A half-dozen steps later, she climbed into the steeple. The surface was bitter cold and perilously slick with ice, but she managed to stay upright. She took a deep breath and plunged inside to reconnoiter.

  “Yup, there are still stairs here, and it looks like the church isn’t flooded,” she called back to Elise, who’d not yet followed her so she could secure the Way behind them. The stairs were steep, narrow, and hadn’t seen any care in sixty-plus years, but the first couple held her weight. She lit the flashlight they’d stopped to purchase on the way there, shielding the bulb with her gloved hand. Light guided their path, but she’d learned as a child that not all creatures drawn to it were of good purpose.

  The church was still sealed from the lake. Trust the Catholics to build it so tight that the water pressure would not harm it. Or was it the low thrum of magic she detected that kept the dragon’s portal relatively safe and dry?

  The place smelled worse than a boys’ gym locker neglected for weeks on end after a marathon run. She didn’t want to think about the mold and other nastiness breeding down there.

  “Does this shield protect us from germs?” Melanie called back to her companion.

  “As much as anything that restricts the air might,” Elise answered. “When we’re out of this, we can ask Marcus to heal us.”

  Laughter spilled out of her when she saw the graffiti down the stairwell in various inks, languages, and handwritings. It was an historical account of who loved whom among the villagers. She noted Aldo M linked with at least four girls, with vicious-looking slash-throughs in other colors. Dares were there, too. Someone had a list of the names of people who’d stayed the night in the sanctuary, along with the alleged dates.

  Of course the kids would challenge each other. That sanctuary would need more than a Papal blessing to cleanse all the mortal sins that’d taken place there, if the detritus of condoms, liquor bottles, and decomposing fast food containers she’d kicked aside coming down were any indication.

  Heart hammering, she stopped halfway down and pointed the light at a clawed print, which was clear in the dust. It was bigger and longer than both her feet. She forced herself not to back up or run while Elise took a look at the mark.

  Elise’s lips firmed and she tensed. They were definitely in the right place. The dragons had used this staircase to come up to the surface to make their raids on the ships. Now all they had to do was make sure they were all inside and re-seal the portals so they couldn’t escape again.

  Easy peasy.

  Melanie crept further down into the church proper. She noted more evidence of youthful shenanigans, particularly in the sanctuary, which was devoid of most of the trappings of its former function, save for the three confessional booths on either side of the sanctuary. They were tiny, closet-like affairs. The thought of going into one to sweat out her sins made her cringe.

  The sanctuary itself was full of the remains of various parties, from half-burned logs for a campfire, to a pile of sodden rags, which might have been a sleeping bag. It was a wonder no one was seriously hurt, but even the windows were still intact and holding the man-made lake at bay. The redolent feeling of magic was even stronger here, making the fine hairs on her arms stand up.

  Was that magic familiar? Her eyes roved the dark space searching for some clue, perhaps the JM seal—but that would almost have to be further down, away from public areas where someone might accidentally get curious and try to disrupt it. The JM operated on the way-down-low, and they were very careful. The church was submerged underwater back in the 1950s in the process of providing electricity for the village, but by Grendel’s account, the place had been sealed by some great mage centuries ago. So perhaps the basement or a cornerstone was the best place to find the seal. Elise could probably find it with a scry. They’d brought a bowl and some bottled water with salt in it for that very purpose, along with other magical impedimenta.

  More dragon tracks showed in the
bare spots where the creatures had kicked away the litter to create a pathway in and out.

  “So the mage must have sealed the passageway somewhere in or around the church?” Melanie asked in a whisper. “Can you detect…”

  Elise grabbed her arm and shoved her into one of the confessional booths that lined the side of the sanctuary, then jammed herself in as well. They huddled together with Elise’s shields drawn tightly around them as the dragons emerged from somewhere below.

  Damn. Melanie stared at their surroundings. Obviously, they’d gotten the sinner’s side of the booth. The confines were so cramped, she couldn’t see how someone could sit there without banging their knees on the rusty screen that divided the booth in two. Even in the semi-darkness, she could tell the confessor got twice as much space and a more comfortable ledge to sit on. Then again, the priest had to do time in there, and hopefully the folks confessing could get out quickly, with a literal Hail Mary.

  The dragons glowed in the darkness of the sanctuary. Their scales of red, gold, green, and blue were jewel-like, so sinuous with their movement as to be almost hypnotic, and potentially lethally sharp, if rubbed against the growth pattern.

  “We must find a new place.” The gold dragon spoke in that delicious voice, part hiss and part purr. Melanie’s teeth gritted when she realized the gold was one of the group who’d robbed them in Florida. Her right hand itched for her ring back, but she held her anger in check. They wouldn’t learn a thing if they confronted them now. The ring was probably in some treasure pile that was never enough to soothe the draconic lust if it wasn’t up for sale.

  “Lady Valonna said we could only sojourn here a short time,” another voice, deeper and richer, spoke up. “We must go toward the new lands as she bade us. There is treasure and new waters to explore. Our last ship brought us far more bounty than the one we caught first in our old hunting grounds.”

  “Should we leave the hatchlings?” Red, a male, asked. “They are stuck in two-leg form until they have reached the sea. It would be inconvenient to transport them, even if they might prove useful for some purpose.”

  Melanie looked up at Elise. So the ghosts and survivors who’d spoken about people—and dragons—were right? The dragons were shapeshifters! And they were talking about leaving their children as casually as one discusses donating old clothes to a jumble shop?

  “We kill them,” Green, another male, said. “That way, they cannot tell the humans about us. They are already too much like them as it is. Allowing them to read the books left in this place was a mistake. They challenge our society based on human values.”

  “And they’ve grown fat and tasty,” Blue said, her mouth opening to expose an impressive set of teeth that could probably take Melanie’s head off in a single bite.

  “We will make more, as we always have,” Gold purred. “I feel the stirrings now.”

  Indeed she did.

  Melanie’s eyes widened as the female dragon rolled like a cat in heat, scraping her scales against the bare stone sanctuary floor, making a sound like sandpaper. She sighed and moaned as the two males spread their wings and their mouths opened to pant and take in her scent like a pair of male dogs.

  And the dominance plays began. The growling red male went after the green, trying to push him down. The two practically tied themselves in knots fighting. The growls echoed in the sanctuary, increasing Melanie’s anxiety and desire to flee. Now.

  Green twisted his neck and scored on the throat of the red. Blood spilled on the marble floor—not enough to be fatal, but a telling blow. He rolled them both over and pinned his opponent to the ground.

  Having won, Green approached the gold female, bowing like a gentleman, then mounted her. Gold made an odd purring sound as he rode her, their bodies twining around each other sinuously, undulating and shifting like ocean waves.

  Red, licking his wounds, rose from the floor and approached the blue female, who watched the spectacle from the corner. Her mouth was open, breathing in the scent, but she didn’t seem inclined to move.

  Blue hissed and slapped at him with her tail, clearly unready for mating.

  Dozens more of the serpents poured in from the stairway in the back, which probably led to a basement and the tunnels. Females, inspired by Gold, started their own mating dances. Males fought, with dominants having the first breeding and submissives following.

  Pheromones permeated the small space. The scent was a mix of exotic spices and hot peppers, beguiling and potentially painful.

  Melanie let her fae bracelet slide down her wrist and palmed it, ready to make a stand should need be. She covered her mouth with her hand and tried not to make any more sound than necessary. Fortunately, the dragons were quite preoccupied, and Elise’s shields held strong. It’d probably take something extremely loud to distract them at this moment, but she wasn’t willing to take a chance.

  The day wore on with no sign of them ceasing. Her body ached from the cramped quarters. She did her best to keep her sense of wonder, but after the first battle and coupling, there wasn’t much different to see.

  At least they’re not killing each other, she thought. That’s not helping our cause any, though. There will just be more of them to deal with.

  This is a sight you’ll tell your kids about…if you survive.

  Elise and Melanie are in trouble.

  Hagatha stared out the hotel room window at the coming twilight, which turned the freshly fallen snow into a comforting bluish gray blanket. They’d left early with the intention of being back at the hotel before dark.

  Who do I call?

  She tried Marcus’ cell phone. No answer. He probably wouldn’t answer if he didn’t recognize the number. He didn’t even have voicemail enabled, damn it.

  Same with Kevin Tallon, the vampire who worked with Melanie.

  Panicked, she recalled the one person in the town who had helped her. She wrapped herself up in as much warm clothing as she could layer, shoved her pockets full of the power stones, despite their weight and the fear she would lose them again, and headed for Darien’s house.

  The neighborhood, which had the charm of an aging dowager in the daytime, took on the air of a harassed old crone by night. Loud rap full of swearing and anger dominated the sounds. Cars with young women and their pimps lined the streets. Hagatha paused, seeing a long black car drive alongside one of the pimps’ vehicles. The driver handed over money to the pimp, and a young girl, who looked to be high-school age, joined him. The transaction was as smooth as any convenience store buy she’d ever made. She watched, feeling ill, as the long black car drove away and the pimp laconically lit up a cigarette to wait for his hooker to return so he could sell her again.

  More sexual commerce went on along the street as some of the ladies with cash-negotiable virtue simply climbed into the front seat and let the vehicle rock. Red lights shone in the windows of several houses close to the one Darien and his friends lived in. Sounds of music and loud voices raised in argument emanated from one of them. A crash sounded, and a door opened. Before Hagatha could catch a glimpse of the interior, a kid fell outside in the snow crying.

  Hagatha started forward to help, but the kid ran around the back of the house. When she didn’t hear anything for several moments, she figured someone in the back let him back in. She certainly was not going into that place without backup.

  Darien and his friends needed out of there, pronto. With no skills and ID, they’d end up forced into similar work. Or worse. From the whispers of the staff around the hotel, the Machiavelli Family owned the town, and matters were getting bad for folks who weren’t willing to pay protection money. It was only a matter of time before the sweet kids were found fencing stolen material and set to work for the Don.

  Who knew whether the man could find out about their magic and use it for his advantage. That was one thing none of them wanted to happen.

  Hagatha reached Darien’s home and banged on the door. She heard voices inside raised in consternation. From what
she heard on the outside of the door, the residents were afraid, particularly of visitors in the night.

  Good. At least they had some sense of self-preservation. Then again, with parents like theirs, they could not have survived confinement without some wisdom and ability to fight.

  “It’s me, Hagatha,” she called out, hoping that would get her admittance. She didn’t want to stay on that street any longer than she wanted them there. “I need your help, please.”

  “Hagatha.” Darien at first looked pleased to see her, but his expression shifted when she pushed inside past him, shut the door, and bolted it.

  “Elise and Melanie went to the church earlier today. They haven’t come back. I’m afraid they’re in trouble.”

  “I warned Elise.” Darien paled beneath his tan skin. “The people in that church are bad. Serpents.”

  “Literally,” Hagatha agreed. “We know. We’re here to stop them.”

  He nodded shakily and commenced gathering up clothing of various sizes and genders to layer for warmth. Hagatha stopped him with a gesture and magicked up a warm leather coat and hat for him.

  His eyes widened, but he accepted the gifts with a smile and polite thanks, then quickly donned them while talking.

  “What can you tell me?” Hagatha asked.

  “We are their children, their hatchlings. We were hatched from their eggs in captivity in a rookery beneath the church. They have treated us like slaves since. We could not take their form…”

  “Why?” Hagatha asked.

  “We must have sea water to swim in to change. Our parents can shift from human to dragon at will after the initial change. We cannot, so we are of limited use to them. They have eaten generations of us. We were being fattened up when Lady Valonna freed us.”

  “Don’t consider her a hero. She’s my family’s evil kindred.” Hagatha headed for the door. “Freeing your parents has cost humans hundreds of lives in shipwrecks. They nearly killed the three of us—twice. Valonna did not free you out of the kindness of her heart. She wanted to create havoc and hurt as many people as possible. Her aim is to kill the three of us.”