Airel: The Discovering (Airel Saga Book Two)

Chapter VII

I DESCENDED THE STEPS carefully, leading the killer on. What is this place, somebody’s grave? I thought sometimes that he had left me, he was so quiet. Even the sound of my footsteps made at least a small noise, but his didn’t make any.

The light ahead swelled and brightened as we neared it. I saw that it was an honest-to-God torch, flame and all. It hung in a bracket in the wall by a doorway, and was covered with an intricate web of engravings twisting up the handle. I paused at the door and looked back at him. He didn’t offer me any clues as to what I should do.

I felt the need to reach out and open the door. I didn’t have much choice anyway—cold-blooded killer behind me, strange door before me. I guess I’ll be taking the door.

It hit me that I didn’t feel afraid in that moment. I couldn’t explain it, but he didn’t scare me as much as he should have. It was as if he liked me, but in a weird “uncle” sort of way. The door swung in smoothly, and beyond … it was not what I expected to see. All I could think about was Michael; where was he? Was he hurt?

“Where is Michael?” My voice sounded much louder than I intended.

“Safe.”

“Where is he?” I said even more forcefully.

He did not respond—only moved forward into a large, circular room with smooth, gleaming stone floors. It was much larger than a football field. And far from looking like some subterranean lair, it was clean and airy. I couldn’t tell how the space was lit, but I could tell it wasn’t the same kind of light you’d get from electric bulbs. The ceiling was domed, supported by a few well-placed columns of marble. It was like the state Capitol or something.

I guess he’s not going to tell me anything.

At one end was a wall of windows standing well over thirty-feet tall, through which shone the ethereal moon. The windows were framed by spidery-thin metal and strange-looking glass, reminding me of a massive old church. I didn’t think there was a straight line in any of it—it was all curves and complex symmetry.

The killer followed me in as I stared in shock. I turned to look back up the dark tunnel. How in the world does this place even exist?

I felt like I should thank him and hand him my coat, as if I were a guest. But he had hurt Michael; he had snatched both of us and brought us here against our will. The thought of my parents looking for me, by now having the police involved, made my blood boil. I wanted to smack him right across the face and rattle his black eyes right out of his skull. “Do you know what they will do to you when they catch you? I will testify against you. I’ll even make up lies if it will put you away for the rest of your life.” But as my words echoed back to me, I could feel my own desperation and how pathetic it was. I was at his mercy. I could tell that She was not one-hundred percent on my side, either.

He smiled with his eyes at my tirade, hiding the slightest grin on his face. “I hate to sound arrogant or vain, but I will never be caught—it is not possible.” With a gentle turn of finality, he ambled over to the wall of windows, his hands behind his back, stopping there to gaze through them. I followed him meekly, lost and exasperated.

I gasped when I saw what he was looking at. Though we were underground, we were looking out at a view that could only be seen from a mountaintop. Below, basking in cool moonlight, was a valley of trees crowding around a meadow. A stream babbled through it, winding its way to the other end. There, a mountain range scratched its way to the heavens, protecting the hidden valley.

I could imagine wildflowers filling the valley in summer, but fall in the mountains was like winter in the valley. I doubted there could be flowers there—but then again—those things I had been taking for granted were turning out to be unreliable.