They passed through the foyer and Grand Ballroom and walked into a study just off to the right. Books filled shelves. Beautiful exhibits of Asian history filled more shelves. Warren had no doubts that much of it was expensive.
Malcolm walked to the large fireplace that took up most of one full wall. When it was lit and there was a fire burning in the hearth, Warren felt certain the heat would have filled the room easily.
Pressing his hand against a sequence of stones framing the fireplace, Malcolm waved to them to join him inside. Warren and Kelli did so. Standing in the fireplace, though, Warren felt inordinately foolish.
Then the fireplace jerked into motion, spinning around on hidden pivot points. Immediately behind the fireplace was a set of narrow stairs that descended into the earth.
Malcolm took the lead at once, descending into the inky blackness with his torch lighting the way before him. “This way,” he urged, standing on the narrow steps that curved down into the darkness.
Warren hesitated. But there wasn’t a choice. Going back to the flat might have been possible, but he wasn’t ready to deal with what was going on there. He set himself, took a final breath, then followed Malcolm.
“Hedgar Tulane’s forebears took advantage of the natural caves under his ancestral home,” Malcolm said as they went down the spiral stairs cut from the cave itself. “They had to have a bit of modification done here and there, but for the most part they just made the most of what was already here.”
Even with his newly acquired ability to see in the dark, Warren wasn’t able to see much. The smooth texture of the cave walls around them spoke of much usage.
“The Tulanes used this place back in World War II, during the raids,” Malcolm said. “Of course, the people who were allowed here weren’t shown all of the secrets. They’ve always protected their Cabalists beliefs from unbelievers. But there was some overlap of that during the Second World War. Hitler’s minions were after many of the same powerful talismans our organization pursued.” He stopped and played his torch over the large pool of water to the left. “Watch your step here. It’s actually quite deep. And cold.”
As Warren watched, a handful of fish surfaced and kissed the air.
“It’s drinking water.” Malcolm swung his torch around to show a trail that skirted the pool to the right. “The limestone in the bedrock in this area makes a natural filtration system. It’s a bit heavy with minerals, if you ask me, but it can keep a man alive. We filter it a bit more to get out some of the taste.”
Warren crossed the damp trail. The rocks felt slippery and his stomach convulsed as he thought about falling into the water. He’d never been a strong swimmer. In his present condition, though he felt stronger, he doubted he’d be able to save himself.
Only a short distance farther on, they entered another passageway that barely allowed Warren to walk through standing upright. Light glimmered in the distance and he thought they were headed there.
Instead, Malcolm halted midway down the passageway and stood facing the wall. A moment later, the wall opened onto a smaller passageway.
Two armed guards in military riot gear stood post at a small landing. Security vids showed brightly on the wall behind them. Two cameras mounted on the ceiling of the passageway focused on the new arrivals.
Malcolm gave their names and said that they were expected. One of the guards nodded and waved them forward.
Entering the passageway, Warren followed Malcolm to the left. The descent was much steeper than the last passageway, and he felt certain the designers and builders had taken advantage of a natural cave formation to lay in the passageway. The carved stone stair steps followed the striations in the rock.
Near the bottom, Warren spied light. It was weak at first, but grew stronger as they neared. Eventually they emerged into a well-lighted cave filled with computer equipment.
“This is one of the communications centers we keep here,” Malcolm said, waving to the computers and the people who manned them.
“Is this where most of the Cabalists are?” Warren asked.
“This cave system?” Malcolm shook his head. “Of course not. There are far more of us than this place can hold. But this is one of the strategic locations for—” He paused. “What you might consider research and development, I suppose.”
“Do any Cabalists live within the city? In the Underground?”
Malcolm nodded. “A few. But primarily the larger gatherings of our group are outside the city. At least at the moment. The Cabalists initially moved out of London during the nineteenth century to avoid detection. A few of our constituents started discussing what we knew about magic much too freely. Spirit boxes and séances became all the rage. They were interested in talking to ghosts, though, not contacting the demonic world as we were trying to do. Currently, there is some talk of moving our operations back to London.”
“Why?”
Malcolm began leading them to another passageway. “To be closer to the nexus of power, of course.”
“What nexus of power?”
“The Hellgate. Surely you’ve felt the backlash of it lessen as we’ve come out here.”
Warren had felt a decrease in the pressure he’d felt while in London, but he hadn’t recognized it for what it was. His mind seemed less clouded, less busy, but at the same time that part of himself that he’d known belonged to his power of suggestion had seemed less strong and less certain.
“Yes,” he answered.
“In order to properly study the powers the demons possess, we need to be there. Where the magic and power flows at its most primitive form.” Malcolm paused in front of a wall. He put his hand out and looked at Warren. “Can you touch this?”
Warren stretched forth a hand and placed it against the wall. It
