Just in and out. I can do this. Fuck Russian frogmen. I’ve faced a Russian Ice Witch.
Chapter Thirteen
Shay approached the tangle of overgrown plants, rotted wood, and stone that marked the ruins of the church. Every few steps, she surveyed the area again to see if she could catch sight of whoever must be out there making her feel like she was being watched.
No one bothered to shoot at her. They didn’t want an easy kill or they didn’t care about only her presence in the area.
Could be someone else is trying to grab the locket and using me to do the hard part. Doesn’t matter, asshole. I know you’re there.
Shay’s gaze swept the area as she stepped into the ruins. No traps. No bodies, frogman or human. No scoring or burns on the walls. Nothing to suggest a battle occurred at the church recently.
The journal said the creatures couldn’t get closer to the church, and it was already abandoned. It makes sense there was no epic battle, and it’s not like the guy had cannons with him.
The suicides of the previous recovery teams weighed heavy on Shay’s mind even if she knew she had better killing skills. She wasn’t immune to magic, and she needed to make sure no one disabled her with a spell.
All she needed was one good shot.
I should have brought some grenades after all.
Her follow-up research on the vodyanoy didn’t show much in the way of mind-control abilities, but they were associated with unexplained drownings. The general strategy involved dragging people under the water and holding them there.
I’ll just stay away from the river. No frogmen can drag my ass under.
Shay reached the back of the ruins and found a worn staircase leading into darkness. She slipped her AR goggles on and activated the infrared mode. There were no unusual thermal traces down the stairs or around the area other than a few nearby birds. If someone were hiding and watching her, they knew well enough to keep out of sight.
A fetid smell assaulted Shay’s nose as she made her way down the stairs and to the doorway where the rotted remnants of a wooden table lay on the ground. She switched her goggles to normal mode and pulled out a flashlight.
The expansive and cool stone basement floor was mostly empty except for torn and moldy paper fragments littering the ground. Moss and vines covered the room. Shay gasped as she realized the room had once held books that the centuries had long since taken back. The bits and pieces were all that remained.
What a fucking waste.
To Shay’s surprise, a few wooden crates remained intact in the corner. She used her boot to nudge open a box. Vestments lay inside, their colors muted by time and riddled with holes from centuries of providing food to insects.
An irregular large opening in the wall led deeper underground.
Must be what he and the kid dug out.
Tension suffused Shay’s body. Even though she’d lost the sensation of being watched, other instincts pushed relaxation away.
Too easy. If anyone could just walk in and grab this thing, Kalinin would have never gotten around to hiring me. There’s some trick somewhere, and I’m not seeing it coming. But why?
Shay lacked any decent info on whether any of the previous teams made it to the actual church, but at least their deaths didn’t support the idea of the church and the tunnels being filled with traps.
The shadows emitted a shuddering noise as Shay whipped out her gun. Several rats rushed toward the other side of the room, their nails scratching along the ground and their squeaks echoing in the chamber.
Shay made a sweep of the room with her gun outstretched, confirming no one was hiding their movement underneath the blanket sound of the rats’ movement. The rats weren’t a problem unless they were magical Oriceran rats. Otherwise she didn’t give a shit. Still, she kept her gun out.
The tunnel broke off into two smaller tunnels and Shay had to crouch to make it through them. Debris and half-decayed litter lay about, but her thermal checks didn’t suggest anything unusual other than a few bones that looked suspiciously human. Everything about the tunnel was as expected after being unused for centuries.
Shay stopped and pointed her flashlight at the ground. Footprints. Boots from the look of it, not fresh but not from the seventeenth century either.
“Someone was here. A wild goose chase? Good thing there’s a hundred k deposit.”
The tunnel curved and led to a larger dug-out chamber. A skeleton lay against the wall, its arms crossed over its chest. The lack of clothing or any hint of flesh suggested it had been there for enough time to have been licked clean. All that remained was a golden locket that hung around its neck.
She checked the ground. The boot prints went all the way up to the skeleton. They could have recovered the necklace.
What the fuck happened? Boot prints from villagers instead of tomb raiders?
“The frogmen never got what they wanted. Good for you, pal. Way to show those assholes until the end of time.”
Shay looked down at the skeleton. A shining example of determination mixed with suicidal stubbornness.
For the first time on a job, real guilt stabbed at her.
“Sorry, pal. But at least this is going to your ancestor and not some random thief.”
Shay paused to use her AR goggles to check the skeleton through several frequency ranges. It wouldn’t help her detect any magical traps, but it was better than nothing.
Satisfied she was as prepared as she was going to be, she reached out and gently lifted the locket over the skull.
The ground didn’t shake. She heard no distant explosions or water rushing into the tunnels. No sudden screeches or the sound of spears flying at her head.
Shay sucked in a breath. Her heart pounded at the lack of an obvious trap. She refused to believe the job would be
