CAGED (#3, of Crows and Thorns)

Chapter 18

The pounding footfall on stone echoing down the pitch-black twisting tunnel was a bass beat to the melody of splashing water. My breath came in ragged pants, my lungs on fire. I drove myself, faster, harder, faster, a blade in either hand.

A fierce battle cry—

An explosion of a chittering-sawing sound—

The slash of blades raking across roughly-hewn rock—

A scream of pain—

"Mela!" I roared. "MELA!"

Fuck, fuck, fuuuck!

We were deep below the city of Ascendria in the catacombs—a labyrinth of tunnels. Only a week ago, I'd tracked Nelle down here after she'd ditched me while we were riding the subways. She'd come down to the catacombs to hunt down an Uzrek, an ancient otherworldly beast, to ask it a question. She had wanted to know what she was—what creature lurked beneath her skin.

The Uzrek had known all along what we were and how we fitted together——Wyrm and Tamer. And it had recognized what I'd been doing all this time, lying to Nelle.

Spinner of deceit.

Mela and I had been down here for close to a week. There was only one place this lesser creature, Yezekael, could hide from a Horned God and survive—a place with endless tunnels and caverns to hide in. Part of the catacombs had been mapped, but over the centuries those that lurked here in the dark, dank tunnels had dug a myriad of extensions and burrows.

And now my friend was in trouble. Serious trouble.

Mela cried out once more, the sound lanced with agony and terror and fury. Fear gouged my insides and cold sweat trickled down my spine.

Shit, shit, shit—

I pushed harder, barreling down the tunnels dripping with icy-cold water, with the fetid smell of decay and death fermenting every breath I dragged into my fiery lungs. The wicked currents of air tore at my damp locks of hair, as I plunged through the tome-like passages at a reckless speed.

As I ran, I drew my arms free of my daypack with the bottled water and packaged food I'd carried with me and ditched it.

Most of the time I'd fought with daggers. Swords were only good in open-spaced caverns—in the narrow passageways, there wasn't enough room for swinging blades. But for those rare times, Mela and I had to battle our way through an unexpected encounter with a beast, I kept my wyrmblade strapped to my back, along with its twin bastard.

Mela's bellows of rage and a chittering-sawing noise grew louder as I approached.

Closer, closer, closer—my boots slamming across the pitted rock—faster, faster, faster.

Where is she, where is she, where is she—

Mela screamed—

My godsdamned heart dropped to the pit of my gut.