CHAPTER 35

Marin had never been good at waiting. As she paced to the far end of the chapel, she came upon a narrow doorway that she hadn’t noticed before. It opened into a stairwell that spiraled into the darkened depths below.

“There’s a set of back stairs here,” announced Marin. She looked up at Line, who was sitting on a bed of crumbling stone. “Maybe I should check them out.”

Line shook his head. “Bad idea.”

“I won’t go far,” said Marin.

He stood up and joined her at the doorway. They stared into the darkness below. “It doesn’t look promising,” he said. “Just wait here—Kana will be back soon.”

“Maybe there’s a supply room down there.”

Line raised an eyebrow. “Doubtful. But if you have to go, we should do it together.”

Marin peered into the stairwell, then turned back to Line. “I want to go,” she said. “I can’t just sit here.”

Line placed his hand on her shoulder. “Wouldn’t you rather stay? We can play spin the skull and take turns doing dares and telling embarrassing stories.”

Marin smiled and brushed the curls away from his eyes.

“You’re right,” said Line, nodding. “We don’t have any whole skulls—maybe a nice femur?”

“You’re a sick boy,” said Marin. She put a hand to his forehead. He didn’t feel feverish, which was a relief. “I guess you haven’t lost your sense of humor.”

“Soon,” said Line. “That’ll happen when the hypothermia sets in.”

Marin gave Line the candle. “I’m going to have a quick look at those stairs, okay?” She pushed away from him gently.

“You should take the candle,” he replied, grabbing her arm as if he didn’t want to let her go.

Marin shook her head.

“It’s our only one,” she said. “At least until we find the one I dropped. Don’t worry—I’ll be within shouting distance.”

“Wait a second,” he replied.

Line picked up a piece of sodden wood. He wrapped several strands of dried seaweed around it, and thrust the makeshift torch toward the candle. It smoked terribly, but it kept a tiny flame going.

He handed it to Marin.

“Be quick,” he said. “I don’t think this torch will last long.”

Marin walked back to the doorway and proceeded down the stairs. She descended slowly, testing each step to make sure it would hold. Loose pebbles and sand shifted under her feet. Water dripped steadily from somewhere nearby, and the walls were cold and slick.

After twenty feet or so, Marin stopped. She could see very little, even with the faint torch. Her heart was beating so quickly that she felt her ears throb. The sound of dripping water had grown louder, although its location had shifted. Now it sounded like it was below her.

“Marin? Everything all right?” Line’s voice sounded distant.

“I’m here,” she shouted back. “I’ll be back soon.”

In the silence that followed, the dripping water sounded louder and closer, as if it were moving toward her. Marin extended her hand in the direction of the noise and felt the hard, cold surface of a wall that abruptly ended in a corner. She moved closer to investigate and realized she had come upon another staircase. It was smaller and more narrow. Does it go all the way down to the sea? Maybe it led to a storage room with supplies. Doubtful, but worth checking.

Marin turned to descend the smaller staircase. Droplets of water began to fall on her. The torch fizzled and went out. The darkness was total, but it didn’t matter. She knew how to get back, even in the dark. She dropped the torch and tiptoed down several steps, pausing frequently to feel the walls. They were wet but not crumbly.

Marin forced herself to keep going. She placed her hand only inches from her face—but she couldn’t even see that. The dripping water grew louder. Now it sounded almost like a stream. The air turned pungent and moldy. Her throat tickled. And then the staircase ended. Feeling with her hands, she discovered an iron gate that spanned the entire passageway. In the middle of the gate was a half-open door, which screeched terribly as she swung it open.

Marin stepped through the gate and stood on the other side. She knew she should return to Line. It was useless to be down here in the absolute darkness. And yet she lingered, trying to imagine what this space could be. A vast storehouse, or a passageway, or a basement, or . . . It was tantalizing.

She took a step forward and realized that the sound of water had stopped. When had it stopped? She couldn’t remember. A sudden unease crawled up her spine, and she retreated back through the gate.

“Yes—you should leave now.”

Marin whirled around. The voice—soft, a little raspy, and strangely accented—drifted toward her from somewhere in that space. It was a woman’s voice, but unrecognizable to Marin. She felt rooted in place, as if heavy weights were strapped to her legs.

“In the forest, many things are waking—and they want you gone. Do you understand?”

It took Marin several seconds to comprehend these words. She felt as if she were underwater.

“Go back and follow the stream through a gully. Take the trail past the old walls. Then the forest trail beyond the white stone arch. Do you know it?”

Marin nodded.

“You will find the river—and a cave. Inside is a sea vessel. Take it and leave.”

“Who are you?” Marin asked. She was finding it hard to speak. “Do you mean the fishing depot?” Her voice wavered, despite her conscious effort to control it.

“Quiet.”

Water began to drip again, but there was something else—another noise, a shuffling of rocks and gravel on a nearby surface.

“Go,” said the voice. “They have your scent—and they are coming for you.”