Out of tunnels, from the ground they’ll crawl, dark as night, death to all. Run, hide, scream for help, straight down a devil’s den is the fate you’re dealt.
I’M STOPPED.
Frozen between something dark and menacing and several soldiers. The Night and the Imperi. A death sentence.
But when the figure steps into the pearly moonlight, I’m greeted by a pair of silver-blue eyes. Even though the person is cloaked in black, hooded, I know those eyes. Blue agate.
“What’re you waiting for—come on!” Dorian hisses, hand outstretched.
Still in shock, confusion muddling my brain, I take his hand and run into the tunnel.
The last I see of the Imperi soldiers is them sprinting toward us, but before I can panic, Dorian throws something at them, a large flume of blue smoke the result. The soldiers cough and sputter.
It’s the last I hear before the ground drops out from under me.
The world as I know it disappears and I’m sent from the tunnel, down, down, down, the slick metal beneath me refusing to allow my fingers an ounce of purchase. Any hope to claw my way back up is dashed when it hits me.
Devil’s den.
I can’t breathe; my chest burns, constricted from shock, from running across the island. From the terror ripping through me because I’m sliding down one of the Night’s devil’s dens—undetectable snake-holes that lead right to their underground caves—and there’s nothing I can do about it. I’ve only ever heard tales, rumors of these holes that appear from nowhere only to vanish just the same. Imperi soldiers can’t seem to track them down. I’d assumed they were legend, another wild story, but they’re real.
Real as Dorian’s arms wrapped tightly around me. Real as the roots and vines and Sun knows what else scratching past my body, cutting any exposed skin with the sting of sharp needles. Real as the scream inching up my throat. But I don’t dare release it for fear of what underground horrors it might stir all around me.
When the sliding stops, there’s a moment of freefall before we land on top of something soft. I bounce twice, then still.
The minute Dorian lets go, I scramble, my hands and knees falling through what must be a large net. I’m unable to move toward escape before Dorian, suddenly standing before me, lit lamp in hand, says, “There’s literally nowhere to go but down.” I back away, tripping over my own feet.
This is it. The end. Dorian is a member of the Night, and no one comes back from the Night.
All I can do is stare, search my surroundings for some way out, which of course there isn’t. We’re underground.
He shrugs, hands up as if he’s showing me he’s not carrying any weapons. “I know you must be shocked.” I keep staring. “You’re probably afraid.” He then moves to the center of the cavern where a long rope hangs like a noose. My hands instantly go to my neck, but he simply pulls it, releasing what I assume is a door far above that closes and latches.
Slowly, cautiously, he approaches me. “I’m not quite sure what to say here … This isn’t exactly how I planned for you to find out.”
I’m shaking my head, straining my eyes to see through the darkness, waiting for an explanation. “But…?” I urge, my voice quaking.
“It’s a shock, I know.”
I nod, jaw slack.
He holds the lantern up between us. “I know I’ve got a lot to answer for—and I will—but it’s most important you understand that I will not hurt you.”
Isn’t that exactly what someone who doesn’t want me to know they’re going to hurt me says? Question after question fills my head, but there’s a horrible crash right above us.
“We need to go.”
“But … Wait … I don’t understand. What the Sun is going on?”
“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?