Mich slashed her way through the thick underbrush in pursuit of Rin’s narrow form. She’d given her canine clone one of Nev’s shirts, and Rin had picked up the scent immediately. The nostrils of his small, round nose flared as he ran, resisting the urge to bark. Mich had told him he had to remain quiet.
She had long ago lost track of how long they’d been running or where they were. It was entirely up to Rin’s nose now.
She had always believed that if anything happened to Nev—or any of her clones—that it would have sent her into a panicked frenzy. But now that something had, she found that the only thing she was feeling was a sense of morbid determination.
She would get Nev back.
Or die trying.
She could hear the light footsteps of Hatch and Nabu behind her as they rounded a mass of dead, twisted logs and came to a halt. Rin was crouched down next to a freshly piled mound of dirt, whimpering and clawing at it.
“Is this it, Rin?” Hatch asked, winded from his long run.
Rin nodded, panting heavily.
“All right,” Mich said. “Rin, you go back to the Library and tell the Femmes. Hatch and Na and I will take it from here.”
“Mich, I wanna help!” Rin protested. “Nev’s my friend!”
“You are helping, Rin—by going back and telling the Femmes where we are. If you don’t and something happens to us, they’ll never find us. Now go, Rin.” She watched as Rin obediently turned and ran off into the woods.
“Well boys, you ready?” Mich said, reaching behind her back and drawing her sword. Hatch’s pale silver hatchets were in his hands, and Nabu lowered his hand to his rapier.
Mich dug away at the pile of earth until her fingers encountered something hard; with Hatch’s help she unearthed a large, rusted grate, its twisted wire frame covered with moss and mud.
“Look,” Hatch said, pointing to the edge, where some of the rust had flaked off. “It’s been opened recently.”
“Then Nev’s down there. Come on,” Mich said, curling her fingers through the grate. With a grunt she heaved, tearing it off its hinges. The gaping maw that was left was the blackest black Mich had ever seen—even her heightened vision could not penetrate its depths. Mich sat down and dangled her legs over the edge.
“Wait, Mich—you’re just gonna jump?” Hatch asked.
“Why not?” Mich said. “The gray people obviously came this way; it can’t be that deep.”
“Here,” Nabu said, slipping out of his long red coat. He handed her one of the sleeves.
“Thanks, Na—though if the hole’s that deep it’s not going to be of any help,” Mich said as she gently maneuvered herself to the very edge. Nabu shrugged and slipped the coat back on. Tightly grasping her sword, Mich jumped, hitting the ground after a surprisingly short fall. She looked up and could still see the dim outline of the hole.
“Come on, guys!” she hissed, listening to the echo of her own voice. “It’s only about nine feet!”
While waiting for them to join her, Mich explored the almost total blackness around her. Her searching fingers found cold, slimy dirt walls on three sides; as Hatch landed beside her she moved to the fourth and found an opening.
“I think I found something,” Mich whispered as Nabu made his landing. She sheathed her sword and crouched down—the opening she’d found was a small tunnel. It was only about three feet wide and just as black as the hole they’d leaped into, but Mich knew without a doubt that Nev was at the end of that tunnel. She could feel it.
“You want me to go first?” Hatch whispered, his voice echoing eerily.
“No. I will. Keep close, though. I don’t want to lose either of you.”
Mich crawled into the tunnel, shuddering in revulsion at the spongy, damp feel of the ground beneath her hands. Although not prone to claustrophobia, the tight fit of the walls and the fact that she had no idea where—or if—it would end started to stir a tiny bit of panic within her. She knew if the tunnel didn’t end soon she’d have to retreat—nausea was already worming its way up her throat, though if that was from the narrowness or the knowledge that Nev had been dragged along the same path Mich couldn’t tell.
Just as she was about to tell Hatch and Nabu to turn around and start heading the other way, a wisp of marginally fresher air hit her face, and Mich felt the walls around her widen until she could stand once again.
The darkness was no longer total; she could see a wall in front of her. They emerged into a corridor that branched off in a forty-five degree angle.
“All right,” Mich said. “You two go right, I’ll go left. If the corridor branches off again you turn around and come back and I’ll meet you here.”
“Lemme come with you,” Hatch said.
Mich smiled and gave his shoulder a squeeze. “Thanks, Hatch, but with my powers it’s a more even split if you two go together. You find anything, come back and we’ll meet up, okay?”
“All right,” Hatch said uncertainly. He and Nabu started down the right hand corridor, while Mich stalked down the left. The tip of her sword dangled in front of her—she didn’t know how effective it would be against the gray people but it was nevertheless a comfort, something solid that she could grasp. As she continued down the damp, cold hallway she hadn’t realized how quiet and still it was until a new sound reached her ears, stopping her heart in her chest.
Screams.
Coming from a very familiar set of vocal cords.
“NEV!”
~*~
When Nev had awakened his first thought—aside from how bad his head ached—was how stupid it was for him to slip and fall in the bathroom.
But then his eyes opened. He’d taken one look at his surroundings and quickly shut them again. Jesus, Nev, he’d thought, You drank so much you’re hallucinating!
{Welcome back.}
Nev could hear the ghostly voice with his ears, but also with his mind, and it was then that he knew it wasn’t a dream.
He was back in the chair, his arms and legs stretched out on the cold metal rack and pinned by tight metal shackles. The massive, twisted machinery that had tried to purge his life hung over him, a gleaming mass of metal and wires, capable of inflicting unimaginable pain. The gray people hovered around him, trying to kill his soul and steal his body, and this time he knew he wouldn’t get away.
He steeled himself and opened his eyes. The ghostly gray figure that haunted his nightmares stood nearby. If it had features he couldn’t see them—the gray person, the only one who had ever spoken to him, was swathed from head to foot in gray rags, rags that Nev could almost see through.
“Maybe you’ll excuse me if I don’t exactly feel welcome,” Nev snarled.
{You have learned,} the gray person said. {You have grown.}
“No thanks to you.”
{Now you are ready.}
“Ready for what?” Nev demanded, pulling at his bindings.
{Your shell has been filled. It is ready to be possessed by us.}
With those ghostly words Nev’s worst fears were confirmed. A low humming filled his ears, and as the metal collar was once again locked around his neck, Nev tensed every muscle in his body and screamed.
They might take his body, but he wasn’t about to let them have it without a fight.
On to Chapter Ten
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