Mark of Betrayal (Dark Secrets #3)(37)
Author: A.M. Hudson

“This isn’t the way I was told to come,” I said.

“This is the fastest way to the section you’re going. Usually you’d take the stairs through the Round room and follow a passage.”

“But, one of the maids said the door to the underground was in the Council Chamber.”

“Right. The Round Room.”

I frowned. “I thought the Council Chamber was that room we all sat in last night with the House.”

Mike groaned. “Ara—are you serious?”

I moved my shoulders up to my ears in a really slow shrug.

“Baby, the Round Room is important—it has, not only great historical significance, but is the place you’ll hold all your Private Council meetings—for the rest of forever. That room we were in last night was the board room.”

“Oh. I wondered why it wasn’t round.”

Mike laughed. “Oh, baby, sometimes your lack of focus can be very endearing.”

I looked at the slightly open secret door. “So, where is the Round Room?”

“Through there.” He pointed to the curtain. “It’s underground, dark, secret, all that stuff.”

“And round?”

“Yes. But it’s not called the Round Room just because it’s round. There’s an old stone tablet in there—which is round—and is said to have been the meeting circle of the first knights.”

“Meeting circle? What, like, a table or something?”

“Exactly.”

“Okay. Well, thanks for clearing that up.”

“Anytime. Now, come on.” He took my hand and the underground chill rose up from the depth of the dark beyond, creeping around everything that contained life out here and sucking it away.

I pulled back a little. “Are there stairs there?”

“Come on. You’ll see.” Mike drew his phone from his pocket and opened iTorch, shining the white light down the barrel of a cavernous hole; stone steps led away in a curve around a cylindrical column hiding who knew what.

“Mike?” I laid a shaky hand to the air before me. “I don’t like it down here.”

“You’ll be fine, baby,” he said, placing my hand onto the wall. “Just follow the curves and you won’t fall.”

“Why is it so steep?” I couldn’t see how far down this stairwell went, but it had a feel to it—a tilt, like walking down a really big hill.

“It goes pretty deep under the manor, Ara. What did you expect?”

I tried to shrug, but my shoulders were too stiff.

When the door closed behind us with a thud, sending an echo into the pits below, I squealed, hearing my own voice hit every step in this tunnel before bouncing back to embarrass me repeatedly.

“Ha! And you wanted to come down here alone.”

“I didn’t know it would be this scary.” I moved closer to Mike and took his hand. “Is the other tunnel like this one?”

“Worse,” he scoffed, angling his torch to show the steps directly below our feet; they were all I could see—all I would focus on. The walls rose up around us, becoming higher and higher as we descended beneath the manor, and when we finally came to the base of the stairs, the slimy brown stones spread out to a corridor—longer than my eyes could make out, with a roof low enough that Mike had to hunch a little.

“Can’t you make that torch any brighter?” I nodded at the phone.

“This is as bright as it gets. You wanna hope I don’t run out of battery.” He laughed. I did not find that funny at all. “You could use your electric light thing—in your hands.”

I looked at my fingertips for a second. “I don’t think it works that way, Mike.”

“Try it.”

Among the eerie weight of fear this darkness pressed on me, I found a solid little thought—a happy one, and focused on it; David—his smile, his arms, his love. But despite the static charge in my skin, the light stayed dormant. I stretched my fingers, making them stiff, as if that would help, but it didn’t. “I can’t, Mike. It won’t work when I’m scared.”

“It works if you’re gonna lose a fight.”

“Yeah, but that’s because I hate losing.”

“Well,” he said, and I noticed there was no echo to his voice, despite the empty, cavernous tunnel, “maybe you should imagine you’ll lose a bet. Maybe I’ll bet you can’t make your light work down here.”

I smiled. “Nah. I don’t really feel like having a headache today, anyway.”

“You still getting those?”

I nodded, but he probably didn’t see it through the darkness. “If I’m on my own, just shooting stuff, I don’t always get it.”

“Right. Well, we just need to exercise it. It’s like a muscle. The more you use it, the stronger it’ll get.”

“Hm. Well, I’ll just have to take your word for it,” I said.

“That’d be a first.”

“Shut up.” I aimed a soft punch at his arm, but missed, feeling his shoulder blade under my knuckles instead. He laughed, and we walked along for a while in silence then, our footsteps and my laboured breathing the only other sounds. I’d expected to hear screams of terror or moaning and groaning from our tortured prisoners, even expected to be grabbed at by reaching hands of despair, but as I ran my guiding touch along the wall, I noticed that, not only were there no horrible sounds, but no cell doors, either. It was just one long blank wall, leading to a black vortex a few meters in front where the light was too weak to reach.

I looked across at Mike; I could just see his jaw, his elbow and his wrist where he held the light, and I knew I was safe with him. Was also really glad he came with me.

“Glad I came with you now?” he asked, grinning.

“No. I could handle this on my own.” I stepped away from him, out of the safe glow of the light. “I wasn’t planning to set them free or anything.”

“I wouldn’t put it past you, my sweet friend.”

“Even if I did, they’re children, Mike.” I looked up at him. “Do you get that? Children.”

“And that is exactly why I’m coming.” He pointed at me. “The Lilithians don’t trust them, Ara. There has to be a reason for that.”

“Have you been down to see them yet?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“I dunno, Ar. ‘Cause I haven’t.” He rubbed his neck, rolling it a little.

As we walked, a rancid smell of decay seeped in and swathed us like humid raw meat. And the worst part was, I actually knew that smell only too well. I covered my nose. “David told me once that the Immortal Damned are fed live humans. That’s true, isn’t it?”