Little Saint Bride [Death and the Maiden, #1]

Chapter Twenty Seven: Will O' the Wisp

Hadrian doesn't argue.
He takes my proffered hand-- and we run.

The tunnels fall away as we pull each other along, the light bounding with our heavy steps. The tiles, slick and wet, cause us to slip and stumble as we race along the bank of the dark sewerage. At first, the stench clogs my mouth and shallow airways, making me retch and cough whilst trying to escape. But after a few minutes, the smell stops bothering me and focusing on each step, and each breath, becomes essential. When there's a rabid zombie man with a piercing after you...well, bad smells, followed closely by trying not to pee in fright, are the least of your problems.

Each time one of us misses a footing on an uneven rock, my hand scrabbles to the wall for support, resulting in several fingers that are streaming with surface cuts and droplets of blood. I pray that whatever is chasing us doesn't have a keen sense of blood, or else I was giving him the best cause for celebration since arriving here.

Hadrian keeps glancing behind us, whilst I try to keep an eye on the ahead; the tunnels, splitting and separating and reforming until even I've gotten lost, are nigh on impossible to keep track of. I pride myself on my calculating ability and watchful eyes, but the rate we turn and change direction is overbearing. The waters darting by become bigger and smaller, all dependent on split-second decisions when we reach a bend.

'Keep going!' Hadrian hisses; I come to an abrupt halt as the tunnel forks into two perpendicular paths, creating a bridge over the water. 'Now is not the time for directions!'

I cast an eye appraisingly at our pursuer, but I'm gratified to note that he's nowhere to be seen. I shake my head, catching my breath. 'No, now is the time for directions. We can't keep running aimlessly. Our lights will run out.'

Hadrian glances shiftily at the torch. 'These run out? That's useless!'

'I know, right? That's what I said...'

Absently, I turn to stare at the water, now a thick moss green that is probably knee-deep. The stench is infiltrating my eyes once more, and I blink away tears. Judging by the water, we've come far in our jog-turned-sprint to reach this point. The negative side is that I have no side to this that's positive.

I place a hand to my head, groaning. How were we going to find our way there now? Nothing had been done methodically!

Hadrian looks perplexed. 'Are you hurt?'

When I shake my head, he continues, 'Why are you groaning?'

'I'm lost,' I say with a frustrated shrug. I'm so used to being on my own, and doing things off my own back, that although a relief, Hadrian's help is more of a hindrance. 'Why are you here? How are you here? And...oh, balls! You saved me back there! Chronus is going to pick his teeth with my cheating bones.'

Hadrian snorts. 'It was self defence. Just so happened you benefitted from it.'

My only reply is a cool glare, but inside I feel that warmth of gratitude. He hadn't left me-- he wants to help me-- he cares. I duck my eyes down so that he doesn't see my confusion, my feelings, all wrapped up with a blush to boot. If Hadrian does care-- if we really fell for one another-- is that what I want? To stay by his side, ruling the Underworld?

In my head I remind myself why I'm here, and it's not for Hadrian, nor for fantasies.

'Stay out of my way,' I growl, and push past the yellow biohazard boy distracting my senses. 'Please don't jeopardise my chance to find my brother.'

'Like I said, I'm not helping. Just here to observe.'

I open my mouth to ask why, but shut it and turn to survey the surroundings. Hadrian's waiting for me to ask, and I don't want to give him that satisfaction. So I contemplate how in Hell we're going to navigate; the fork in the sewer is still staring at me, taunting me with its dilemma.