forward as silently as she could. It was a woman and three men. When one of the men turned to speak to the female, she recognized Joe’s profile. By the height and shaggy look of the other two men, she was sure they were hellhounds in human form.
“Joe! Errata!”
They turned, Errata’s eyes flared with surprise. “Talia! Where were you? What happened to you?”
Talia looked down, realizing that she was splattered with Belenos’s blood. “I got sick of people trying to lock me up.”
Joe and Errata exchanged a wide-eyed look. “We’re one of the teams looking for prisoners,” Joe said. “Now we know where you are, but Baines is still missing.”
“He’s down here somewhere.” Talia accepted a bottle of water from Errata. “Somewhere where the wooden flooring has collapsed.”
While she finished the bottle of water—it wasn’t blood, but she was badly dehydrated—Talia told them about what Belenos had shown her in his quartz ball. It crossed her mind that what she wanted to do most was hunt down her father, but she owed Baines for treating her fairly. Revenge could wait a few more minutes.
“We’re near the ocean,” said Joe. “I’ve been down here before, looking at the sewers as part of the district business council. The area you saw is right around here. Do you think you’d recognize the look of the exact place?”
“Maybe,” she replied. “I’ll give it a shot.”
As they set out through the tunnels, one hound was left to relay the news that Belenos was dead and Talia found. Yaref, the hound that remained with them, was silent, dangerous-looking, and in star-struck awe of Errata. The latter was focused on filming everything with a small, expensive-looking camera.
“Here we are,” said Joe, holding up one hand to signal a stop. They shuffled to a halt. They’d come to an intersection of three tunnels. Two looked old, with slabs of shattered concrete making up the floor. One was more recently built. Bare lightbulbs followed a track down the ceiling, but the power was off. Errata swung around, making sure she got the location from every angle.
“Maybe it was near here, but this isn’t the exact spot.” Talia turned to the hellhound. “Do you know Baines’s scent? Can you track him?”
By way of answer, Yaref did the dissolve-and-reform trick, changing into a massive black canine. He applied his nose to the ground, snorting like a Shop-Vac.
“Where are we?” asked Errata.
“Under the old hotel row on Johnson Street,” said Joe. “Look.” He walked over to the wall, wiping off a few bricks with his sleeve and revealing an enameled metal plate screwed into the brick. “There’s a few of these sign plates around.”
Talia drew closer to see. It read FIVE LILIES HOTEL.
“There were old wine cellars down here,” he said. “The Five Lilies was around a bit before the Empire was in its heyday. There’s an apartment building on the old Lilies site now.”
The hound woofed, and then stood still as a statue, one paw lifted, nose pointing down an old, wet-looking passage.
“Seriously?” Errata asked.
Yaref gave her reproachful eyes.
“Lead on.” She sighed.
The tunnel was narrow and slimy. About a hundred yards on, Talia noticed a salty smell clinging to the old brickwork. “I can hear water,” Talia said.
“Parts of the waterfront are riddled with caves,” Joe said. “Watch where you put your feet. The tide has washed out the floor in places.”
“What were these tunnels used for?” Errata asked, looking more catlike than usual as she picked her way over the slippery floor.
“In the old days, they could deliver from the ships straight to the storage rooms under the hotels.”
Yaref was trotting ahead, making excited woofs. Joe was keeping up with him, but Talia and Errata lagged a little behind. The dog reached a junction in the tunnels, did some more loud sniffing, but then continued on ahead. The air got colder and danker, and Talia envisioned the tunnel ending and dropping them all in the Pacific.
Yaref started to bay, the deep awoowoo that seemed to be their warning cry.
Errata gripped Talia’s arm. “Hold on. Something’s gone wrong.”
Talia pulled herself free and crept forward, her gun in both hands.
“Talia!” Errata hissed.
A huge, angry fireball whistled down the corridor. The enemy! It was bigger, brighter, and faster than anything Talia had seen. Growling and snarling erupted and she heard Joe’s angry shout. Talia turned and ran back to where Errata waited. The reporter was unarmed.
“Run! ” Talia ordered.
Errata obeyed. Neither of them looked back until they reached the last place where two pathways joined. They crouched for a moment just inside the mouth of the intersecting tunnel, both silent and still in the dark. There was an angry growl, and then stillness. The hypnotic slosh-slosh of the ocean sounded right beneath Talia’s feet.
“Now what?” Errata whispered.
A fireball burst past the tunnel entrance, making them jump. Talia could hear Errata’s heart pounding fast. Yaref flew past, legs churning. Pause. Then a huge shaggy wolf burst past.
“Was that Joe?” Talia whispered.
“I think so.” Then Errata raised a finger to her lips.
Four figures ran past, two vampires and two Hunters. Talia recognized both Hunters as lieutenants of her father. Seeing them together with the Undead was just weird. Unexpected tears filled her eyes, as if trying to wash away the sight. Her old tribe was violent and filled with hate, but now they’d betrayed everything they stood for in a bid for yet more power.
One of the vampires stopped, called fire to his hand, and threw it with the efficiency of a sportsman. Talia itched to shoot, but she couldn’t take him and the other three in time to prevent return fire.
The vampire ran on. Talia waited a long moment until the sound of their footsteps had fallen silent before she stirred.
“Do you remember the way back?” Errata whispered.
“Baines is still down that tunnel. We’ve got to try finding him.”
“We don’t have Joe or the hounds.” Errata looked doubtful. She pulled out her cell phone. There were no bars in this part of the underground.
“We could at least go look for Baines,” Talia argued. “Yaref thought he was down here. It can’t be far. This tunnel has to end sometime.”
Talia could see Errata thinking, the call to adventure warring with caution. “Okay. Let’s look.”
They slowly slipped back into the main tunnel, stopping to look and listen every few yards. They stayed at the edge of the passage, close to the brickwork. In places, the floor was spongy, no more than rotten planks.
As Talia suspected, there wasn’t much tunnel left. Soon they could see the end of it, a round brick mouth looking out at the gray ocean. Flakes of snow made a diagonal curtain across the opening. The wind was freezing cold.
There was a power boat tied up at the tunnel mouth. Errata pointed the camera at it. “Want to bet that’s where those guys came from? Think they were patrolling this entrance?”
“Watch it!” Talia cried.
Errata froze, pulling the camera from her face. About twenty feet from the tunnel mouth was a gaping hole in the floor. Errata looked down. “Omigod! Baines!”
Talia rushed over. The detective had propped himself against the wall, his gun in his hand. He looked white-faced and pinched with cold.
“Are you hurt?” Talia asked.
“I blew my knee falling.”
“Maybe I can pull you out.”
“Watch out for the cat,” he said.
