But that door wasn’t one of them. How long had it been there, hidden beneath my feet?
Another mystery to add to the pile.
The end of the tunnel widened even farther, opening up into a huge underground chamber with a fire burning at the center. The smoke curled upward, sucked up into a vent-like hole in the ceiling.
A fire to burn supernaturals?
I was standing on a slope that curved downward, ending at the cavern floor. Straight ahead of me was another tunnel entrance, veiled by shadow. It was the only other way out of the chamber I could see.
It was warm here, warmer than any other part of this underground place had been so far. In the left-hand corner of the chamber was a nest, made of straw and dry grass and something else. I pointed the torch to it, the light revealing a pile of bones.
Human bones.
Had I just stumbled into the lair of the killer?
But the bones weren’t the worst of it. Within the nest were eggs, huge eggs that looked like they’d come up to my waist in height easily. They were a pale shade of pink, throbbing—not solid at all. All together, they pulsed in sync, as if to some musical beat only they could hear.
“What are you doing here?”
I spun, weapon at the ready, to meet the owner of the familiar voice behind me.
“Mr. Visser?”
Twenty-One
Jake
The big guy ran. Again. Took off with more speed than his overly muscled body let on. Man, he was fast. I guess anyone would be fast when faced with the chance of that pointy thing slicing your guts open.
I followed him because that was the direction of the bridge I’d planned to head for. Unless I wanted to try dodging the candy-striped fucker behind me by turning back, there was no other way to go unless I wanted to take a dip in the freezing water that was on every other side of me.
That was my very loose contingency plan if there was no other choice.
Ribs wanting nothing more than to rest, I made my feet work, ignoring all pains and grumbles. The bridge was my goal, my complete focus. I was hot on the heels of the wanker who’d made my chest burn like this, not one for being left in the dirt.
Oh, crap. This was so not good. How fast was this thing against us? It was still hissing back there, claws clicking on the ground. But not running. Did it want us?
It’s funny how the mind can act as a suggestive power. Actually, it’s not funny. In certain situations, it’s pretty much just plain bollocky.
Like this time.
The monster sped up … click, click, click.
Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck!
I pushed myself harder, a fire lit under my arse. I wasn’t dying here. No way.
No way!
The monster hissed, and the clicking stopped. Before I could rejoice that it’d given up, the candy-striped horror went soaring over my head, bypassing me and landing in the short space between me and the big man.
I hit the brakes, slowing down as quickly as I could, panting, ready to turn and run the other way.
The river wasn’t looking like such a bad idea. Shame the freezing water would kill me before I could swim to the other side, though.
Crap!
The monster didn’t have eyes for me. The big guy cast a look over his shoulder and howled, speeding up. Candy-creeper leaped again with terrifying grace, really looking like a praying mantis in its movements.
It landed on the last remaining triplet and tore into him. His screams cracked the night with their bloody agony.
Shitting hell! I was so out of here.
Without looking behind me, I ran back the way I’d come. The bridge now out of the question.
I ran inland until I couldn’t run anymore.
I’d tried flagging down some cars as I reached the main road, but none of them stopped. Rather than wait around, I headed into the residential area opposite.
I wasn’t beyond banging on some doors. All I needed was a phone. Yeah, that was gonna get me far. But I needed to get hold of Dean.
I headed down a street called Ponserstraat, coming to a row of two-story houses, most of them with their lights on.
I rang the bell of the first house, its red door secured behind a black metal gate.
About ten seconds later, the door opened a crack—as far as the security chain would allow it to.
A rosy-skinned man appeared, an older guy with black-framed glasses. “Yes?”
“I’m sorry to disturb you, but I was wondering if I could use your phone?” I asked in Dutch.
He swore at me and slammed the door.
Okay. I was a complete dick. If someone knocked on my door asking to use my phone, I’d tell them to jog on. It was my natural distrust. A jaded worldview went hand-in-hand with survival instinct.
I stood my best chances on the main road, trying to flag down a lift back across the river. Failing that, walking back.
Man, that would suck balls in the bad way.
Wait. Boom! There was the answer! Not sucking balls but getting this guy to use his phone for me.
I rang the doorbell again. “Sir?”
“I am calling the police!” he called through the door.
“Please, call them. Tell them Jake Winter is here and needs picking up. I’ll wait by the side of the road.”
Silence.
“Hallo?” I said.
The door opened again. “Jake Winter?”
“Yes.”
“Of Jake & Dean Investigations?”
“Yes, that’s me.”
He closed the door, then it opened wider. The man was small and hunched, wrapped up in a big red jumper and a blue scarf. Heat wafted out of the house, along with the smell of cookies.
The gate
