There’s the sound of retreating footsteps, and we’re left in silence, with only a sliver of light from below the door to illuminate the stairs. “What do we do now?” Hunter asks, sounding vaguely sick.
“There’s only one thing we can do,” Shade replies, turning to glance down the steep flight of stairs leading into the bowels of the building.
He doesn’t have to finish the sentence; we all know what he’s thinking.
Chapter 25
With the limited light from the office, it’s nearly impossible to see in the stairwell, and even when Shade turns his phone flashlight on, I have to grip the railing just so I don’t slip and fall. The stairs are steep and narrow, descending farther underground than I would have thought possible. Faintly, we can hear the sounds of people moving around in the building above us; it looks like we got down here just in time. “You know what’s weird?” murmurs Landon in the echoing silence of the stairwell.
“What?” I ask.
“It sounded like Mrs. Fairbanks didn’t know about this passageway,” he replies.
“Neither did the other guy, by the sounds of it,” adds Shade.
“This place looks ancient,” Hunter remarks, craning his head to get a look at the dimly lit concrete that surrounds us on all sides. “Do you think many people know about it?”
“I don’t know,” I reply. “For all we know, this could be a dead end.”
“I’d rather find out while we’re here,” Landon remarks. “The fact that this was in the registrar’s office makes it seem important.”
“I guess there’s only one way to find out,” I say as I continue to lead the group down the stairs. It feels like the walls are pressing in on us on all sides, and the air is stagnant, like no one’s been down here in a very long time. A horrible image of the tunnel collapsing on us comes to mind, and I have to grit my teeth against the urge to freak out; that won’t do us any good. We’ve already been found out by the faculty; we have nothing to lose now and everything to gain. Maybe this leads to some sort of top-secret information storage facility, or an Illuminati bunker, or something? Whatever it is, the Academy clearly has dirty laundry that they don’t want the students accessing, and if there were ever a place to put it, it would be in a secret hideout under the building, I reason.
After what feels like ages of carefully climbing downward, I notice that it seems to be gradually getting lighter in the passageway. As if reading my mind, Hunter says, “I can see a bit better now.”
“Same here,” says Shade. “We must be getting towards…”
But he trails off as I come to a sudden stop at the bottom of the stairs. The passageway has flattened out, and we’re now facing a large steel door. There’s light filtering through underneath it, and an experimental push causes it to glide open, not making the slightest sound as it does. Fluorescent light nearly blinds us, and we make our way into an industrial looking hallway. The floor and walls are concrete and sterile, and as we walk down the hall, I can see doors leading to banks of computer monitors and laboratory equipment. It’s a far cry from the old-fashioned decor of the rest of the Academy, and the others gape as we peer around. The sound of clanking machinery echoes down the hall, and I find myself shivering in the cold air. “What is this place?” wonders Hunter.
“You don’t know?” asks Shade.
The vampire shifter shakes his head. “My dad never mentioned anything like this. Is it for storage, maybe?”
We all jump at the sound of a yell. It’s a male voice, cracking with pain, and it’s nearly deafening in the confined space. “What was that?” asks Landon.
“Silas,” I breathe, and begin to run in the direction of a lone doorway at the end of the hall. I can’t say what drives me in that direction, but my feet carry me, anyway; it’s just a sense that I have, impossible to ignore.
“Boots, wait!” yells Landon, but I don’t listen to him. I would know that voice anywhere, and the agony in it is enough to send chills down my spine. The others catch up to me just as I’m pulling the door open, and we all stop dead in our tracks as soon as we see what’s going on in the room.
It’s a large space that reminds me a little of a doctor’s examination room, except instead of the usual jars full of cotton swabs and tongue depressors, the counter is covered in medical equipment that I don’t recognize. A bank of beeping computer monitors stands against the opposite wall alongside a sinister-looking device that could have come straight out of a science fiction film. In the middle of the room are two examination tables. Strapped into one is a blond boy I don’t recognize, although I would wager a guess that this is Brody Patton. His eyes are wide and staring, his face frozen in terror, and one glance is enough to tell me that he’s dead.
On the other exam table is Silas. He’s writhing in pain, desperately trying to free himself from his restraints. Needles attached to the unknown medical device protrude from his arms, and he looks worn and battered, as if the energy has almost gone out of him completely.
Examining the readouts on the machine is Samantha Goldstein, and she turns around, her eyes flashing black as soon as she sees us. “What the fuck are you doing down here?” she demands.
“What are you doing to Silas?” I ask in response. I’m trembling with fear and adrenaline, my eyes wide as I stare at her.
She ignores the question, taking a step forward and making us balk. “Didn’t Hawthorne tell you to stay away from Mr. Aconite?”
