Beware the Night, page 8
“How about you interrogate me as we move? That smoke isn’t going to hold them off very long. Deal?”
Before I can comment, he’s rushing forward, down a slight decline, but enough of one that I keep one hand flat against the wall next to me for balance.
I follow Dorian through the black tunnel as he continues on about the explosive. “The blue smoke is a mix of black pepper, sulfur, and crushed graphite, pressure packed so when it’s lit and hits a hard surface, it explodes. It’s impressive, but clears quickly.”
We make our way around numerous crooks and turns, up then down rough slopes.
Finally, I spit out the loudest question ringing in my mind. “Who are you?”
“Did you hit your head on the way down? I thought it was obvious.” He glances back at me, and even through the darkness, I can see humor mixed with concern in his expression. Did I hit my head? Is this a nightmare?
Sun, I hope so.
“Do you find this funny?” I ask.
“No.” He wipes the almost-smile off his face. “I’m sorry. It’s not funny. Not at all. It’s just … I was only doing a tunnel check and there you were. I’m not sure which one of us was more surprised.”
“Me. I was more surprised. I’m still…” My heart raps like a drum in my ears. “… How can this be? You’re the glassmaker’s apprentice … Basso … How can you also be a member of the Night?” He’s a traitor. And a liar.
The terrain changes from dirt-caked walls to rusty, crumbly rock and then to yellowed stone. The lower we decline, the thicker and damper the air gets, the richer the scents of sour minerals and salt. Everything is sulfur down here.
“Who says I can’t be both?”
“Everyone. The laws of nature. Every story about the Night I’ve ever heard.”
He laughs.
I clutch his hand, forcing him to skid to a halt, bumping right into him in the process. Dorian turns and faces me. “Look, you’re right. This is serious.” Holding the lantern over his shoulder, he searches my face, almost as if he’s testing if he can trust me.
Him. Worried about trusting me.
“So…?” I ask, waiting for an answer.
“What if I told you I can be both Basso and Night soldier?”
I shake my head.
“Veda.” He leans down to meet my eyes. “It’s true. It’s not the Night who’s kidnapping Basso or burning down their homes.”
“You’re mad.”
He narrows his gaze. “I’m definitely not mad.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Then prove it.”
“Follow me.” Dorian turns and continues walking.
“Why should I? How do I know you’re not lying just to capture me? Enslave me. Gnaw my toes off. You know the stories.”
Again, he turns to face me. Lantern held out in front of him, expression shadowed, morphing from calm to creepy to distorted. “You probably shouldn’t trust me. Hell, I wouldn’t trust me. But it doesn’t seem you’ve got much of a choice.” He glances back from where we came. The tunnel with the soldiers in it.
At this point, I’m not sure which is worse: following Dorian into the belly of the beast or clawing my way back up to Bellona and into the hands of the Imperi for definite punishment.
I stare across the darkness at Dorian.
And I nudge my head forward. “Let’s go.”
* * *
WE HIT A door that’s been pieced together with scraps of metal, a padlock keeping it closed. Dorian unlocks it with a key from a ring hooked to his belt. We go through and he replaces the same lock on the other side of the door.
“One way?” I ask, taking in his clothing for the first time. He’s wearing all black, a military-style patch sewn over his chest. It’s small, nothing but a row of colored stripes as if marking rank, maybe missions. In addition, a crudely hammered silver pin—a crescent moon—is stuck to his collar.
“Only one way,” Dorian confirms, catching my eyes on his uniform.
“That’s comforting and … not.” We continue walking. I take note of his keys, which are hooked to his pants on one of the left belt loops closest to me. If he didn’t expect it, I could easily clutch hold of them and tear them off.
“It’s to keep others out, not to keep you in. If another member of the Night goes down the same den, they’ll know an alternative way to get to the Lower. Anyone else makes it that far? Well, they’ll be stuck there until eventually found.”
I stifle a shiver.
But it isn’t until we go through another, similarly patchworked door, that fear truly seizes me.
On the other side, we’re greeted by a group of Night soldiers. Twenty or so. All in black. Hoods over their heads. Lanterns scattered about the crowd, giving each of them the deep eye sockets and sunken faces of skeletons.
I grip the arm of Dorian’s jacket and then quickly let go. I reach to clutch his keys, but he’s already turned away. There’s no way I can get to them without causing a scene, and I’m outnumbered exponentially.
Backing up, I take short, calculated steps until I’m flat against the cold, metal door.
He’s one of them.
Keys or no keys, before I can make a break for it, try to kick the rickety lock off the rusted door and happily bolt into the open arms of a couple of Imperi soldiers, the Night rushes toward us.
I cover my head with my fists, huddling into the door, but soon realize I’m not being torn limb by limb. My toes are definitely still attached to my feet. Instead, whoops and shouts of “Welcome home!” and “Dorian!” fill the small cavern and echo off the walls.
Daring to open my eyes, I find all manner of hugging and tackling and scuffing of Dorian at the hands of the Night. He’s laughing so hard, tears stream down his face. “All right … All right … I missed you too…”
My jaw practically on the floor, I force myself to straighten, then take a couple of steps toward the commotion where Dorian’s and my eyes connect.
Cheeks flush, hair a complete mess, he clears his throat and puts his hands up to halt the love fest. “Everyone,” he says, surveying the crowd, “this is Veda Adeline. We just evaded a couple of Imperi soldiers. She’s probably a little spooked right now…” He looks at me, smile dancing at the corners of his lips. “But my hope is she’ll soon find we’re not the monsters the Imperi make us out to be.”
And then I receive a similar, much less personal but equally warm welcoming to the Lower.
To the Night.
* * *
AS ONE LARGE GROUP, walking in two by two, we descend deeper into the underside of the island, the Lower, they call it. The whispers of quiet chatter snake their way in and out of the line as our damp footsteps scrape against the stone floor.
I strain my ears to hear, hone in on at least one conversation, pick out a few key words that might alert me to what’s to come, good or bad. Something to hint at whether I can trust any of these people or not. Right now all I can think of is torture chambers and dank cells and being forced to milk mud beetles until my fingers rot and fall off.
I find myself squinting through the dark to spot the spindly black things. Because if I do see any, that might mean we’re getting close to where the Night keep the Basso. Where they’re put to work or worse.
And to think, a mere couple of days ago I was digging for beetles like my life depended on it. If I see another the rest of my life, it’ll be too soon.
I know immediately when we pass from the tunnels leading to the Lower and enter into actual Night territory.
Curving around a sharp corner, we’re immediately greeted by a large mural. A depiction of the phases of the moon is painted in an arc on the rough stone wall. Stars cascade overhead—all around—and actually seem to twinkle from the reflection of the lit candles adorning the floor below, the natural moisture clinging to the walls. Along with the candles are roots and plants, scraps of clothing, handmade knickknacks, all similar to the blessings left on the Sun altars up on Bellona.
Several tunnels identical to the one we’re leaving surround the space, all ending at the mural.
We descend a few steps, and when I look down, careful not to trip, I catch two mud beetles skittering along the bottom of the wall.
I swallow back a gasp, grip my hands into fists. It’s only mud beetles, I remind myself. Keep it together, Veda.
But I don’t have it together. Not even close. I lean in toward Dorian. “Take me home. Now.”
Dorian glances at me from the corner of his eyes and barely nods.
Then we all start moving again.
He’s not taking me home now.
Images of Poppy’s nighttime horror stories tick behind my eyes like illustrations from a sick book. Basso strung by their toes until they’re severed clean off … Mud beetles using their pincers to chew the eyelids off Basso corpses … Those who couldn’t bear the demands of the Night are punished in the cruelest of ways … Disposed of inside these tunnels. Left to starve and die …
My mouth is dry as cotton, palms slick with sweat, breathing near hyperventilation. My heart races as if trying to escape my body.
Where the Sun are they taking me?
CHAPTER 11
It takes a few minutes, but I manage to calm my heart, steady my breathing.
Nothing’s happening, I remind myself. No one’s scheming quietly up ahead or measuring lengths of rope to my neck or sharpening a blade. I’ve no reason to think I’m in immediate danger. Not yet anyway.
But we are moving toward something. Someplace.
Keeping my eyes on the line of bodies ahead of me, with Dorian and me in the very back, I know this is the time to get him alone. Perhaps my only chance. I need answers. Now.
Just as I’m calculating how to make a move, get him away from all these Night soldiers, when exactly to bolt down another tunnel and either force him to follow me on his own or find my way out of here, he bids the others goodbye, but a couple straggle behind.
“See you tonight, Veda?” a girl about my height says, her tone sweet and calm, catching me completely off guard as if I’d expected her voice to be low and menacing by sheer association. The fact that she’s wearing a black hood over her head.
“Oh … I’m not sure…”
She nods, giving a small smile and swooshing her short bangs away from her eyes.
The boy, maybe eighteen or so, standing next to her chimes in equally pleasant, “Well, we hope you come. It’s going to be a great celebration.”
But I’m shaking my head. “I doubt I’ll be able to…”
Dorian cuts in before I can politely decline. “Well … it’s not so much a celebration as it is a small gathering.” He shrugs. “Nothing to get too excited about.” He pointedly eyes the two Night soliders, smiles in a reserved sort of way. “You guys need to get back. Veda and I have a lot to discuss.”
They nod respectfully and turn on their heels, march after the rest of the Night soldiers down the tunnel to the left as Dorian and I take the one to the right.
Just the two of us.
“Dorian?”
“Yeah, Veda?”
“Why in the Sun are they acting like I’m here to stay?”
“Were they?” He avoids my eyes.
I quick step in front of him, stretch my arms out so my hands are against each wall of the narrow tunnel, and force him to stop. “You need to explain some things.”
He pauses for breath, gazing down at my lips, and I realize how ridiculously close we are to each other. I swallow, drop my arms, and take a step back. “You’re right.” He finds my eyes, gives a single nod. “Come with me and you’ll get all the proof you need.” He steps forward, marching down the tunnel at a quick pace. I’m fast to catch up, and once again beside him, I catch him looking down at me.
I look right back. “Why do I feel like you’re luring me to my death?”
This, he seems to take seriously. Dorian keeps walking but slows slightly. “Listen. I know what you’ve been raised to believe about the Night, what the Imperi works hard to this day to have you believe about us—I learned it all too.” Now he stops completely and turns to face me. “It’s not true. None of it. Those people back there … Did they seem like monsters to you?”
“Well … No, but…”
“But nothing. I know we just met, that you have no reason to trust me. I promise, once you see the truth you won’t want to go back up there.”
I’m already shaking my head before he finishes the sentence. “I doubt that.”
“Just … a little longer. And if you don’t want to stay, I’ll personally take you home.” He holds his hand flat next to his face. “Night’s honor.”
I don’t trust him one bit.
But I want to.
And what am I going to do? Find my way back to that devil’s den we came down? I’d no sooner get lost or trapped, eaten by fanged groundhogs or a swarm of mud beetles or whatever other horrors live down here. Besides, if he is lying, I’ll have information to take back—and I will find my way back—to share with other Basso to keep them from disappearing at the hands of the Night.
And if he’s being honest? Well, we’ll just see what he has to show me.
“All right,” I say. “But the minute I tell you I’m through, you’ll take me home?”
“The minute.” He gives a small closed-lipped smile.
I nod and we continue on.
When we reach a set of steps, Dorian assures me it’s not much farther. At the bottom of the stairs is a small cavern. Faded murals adorn the walls, depicting nighttime scenes, stars dancing down on dark treetops, the moon a yellow crescent, smiling upon a sleepy forest. If I didn’t know better and if there weren’t four caves like black holes peeking back at me, I’d think the world turned on edge and I was indeed staring at the nighttime sky.
Above each save one of the caves is a wooden plank nailed to the wall, labels burned into the signs. Over the tunnel to the far right is the word SOLDIERS; to the far left, OFFICERS; next to that reads GARDENS; and the one next to that has no sign. A mystery door.
“This way first.” Dorian walks straight for the gardens’ tunnel, which confuses me because how can one grow a garden without the Sun?
We’re in an ink-black tunnel, the only light a flickering bulb several yards away and Dorian’s lantern.
We stop at a wooden door under the flickering light, which goes out.
“Damn generator,” he mumbles, adjusting the bulb to no avail. In the pitch-dark, holding the lantern in one hand, Dorian sifts through that ring of keys. Squinting under the dim light, he finally finds the right one and opens the door. Nothing but darkness claws out at us.
“After you.”
Yeah, right. “No, no, after you.”
Dorian smiles like he knows what I’m thinking and strides past me into the blackness.
Feet planted in the doorway, I’m expecting this “garden” to be a cache of weapons, maybe a block of cells where they keep the Basso they kidnap. Or worse.
But when Dorian cranks something, a metal lever I think, large lamps mounted around the room slowly flicker to life.
What I find before me is indeed a garden.
The plants are duller versions of the crisp, vibrant ones I’m used to seeing up on Bellona. I spot beet greens that are pale yellow. Underripe tomatoes more resembling peaches. And banana trees, the leaves browned, the fruit a muted green.
“Not what you expected?” Dorian asks.
“Would you have expected this?”
He nods. “Fair enough.”
I walk farther into the cavern, taking in more of the space. There are wires trailing like a thick web down one of the cave walls, connecting the lamps to the generator; tubes hooked to barrels that I assume hold water line the perimeter.
“But how does it work? There’s no Sun.”
“No. No Sun. It’s kind of a backward greenhouse. Take a closer look.”
I take a few steps toward one of the lamps. It flickers with intermittent power, but it’s definitely the source of heat and light, the warmth radiating off it intensely and I’m still several feet away.
They’ve created an underground Sun. Fake Sun? Blasphemous in the eyes of the Imperi. In my eyes? Unfathomable, pure magic.
Turning in a circle, I’m able to make out three walls in the far-off distance, the fourth covered with climbing greenery and what appears to be blackberries hanging from the vines.
I move toward one of the large garden boxes where carrot greens peek out of the earth, lining several rows on one side, the other filled with tomato plants, their stalks tied to small handmade trellises. I bend down closer and find what I thought was soil is sand. I touch it, and the delicate granules slide through my fingers. But nothing grows in sand. Not that I’ve ever seen. Yet, I’m staring at a tomato plant; its fruit is small, a muted red, but ripe enough to eat.
Shocked, I look at Dorian. His expression is one of pride.
“We’ve been adapting down here for a while, finding new ways to survive.”
“Survive?”
“Well, we’ve gotta eat, right? And we can’t always risk going above.”
It’s nearly impossible to think of the Night as anything but demons living on insects and vermin, the blood of their captives.
A shiver runs up my spine and I side-eye Dorian.
He catches me staring. “What were you expecting?”
“Oh … I don’t know…” Like I’m going to say.
He walks on, taking long, lanky strides. “Let me guess. You were picturing torture devices? A pit of venomous snakes?”
“No.” Yes.
“But close.”
“All right. Maybe a little.”
When we reach the other side of the cave, Dorian cranks the lamps back off.
“Don’t the plants need light to grow?”
He stops midcrank, the lamps flickering. “Yeah, but someone else tends it in shifts. Electricity is so unpredictable down here, we’ve got to conserve.” He unlocks and opens a similar door as the first.
“How do you have electricity when we barely get it up top?”
He cocks an eyebrow. “We have the Imperi to thank for that.” And he cranks the lights completely off.
