Part 13 (1/2)

”Yeah,” he said, stooping to pick up a little girl and set her on a low wall, out of the crush. ”Our prey popped up in the middle of the square and grabbed five or six people. This is the mad rush to get away.”

”What'd you tell them?” Lanningham asked, using his large body to elbow a path through. We filed behind him and the crowd started to give us room.

”That we're on our way to kill the terror that stalks them, but they had to calm down and let us through.”

”Good thinking,” I said. Mobs were dangerous, and I had to think at least a few people had been badly hurt during the stampede.

When we got to the public works access point, police were keeping the area clear, and one was shouting something into a megaphone.

”Arabic,” Lanningham said. ”Mine's rusty, but I think he's saying it's dangerous and to disperse.”

”Is there a waste water plant on the other end?” I asked. ”Maybe we can drive them out someplace less public and make this easier.

Blakeney nodded. ”There is, but it's eight miles away.”

If I'd had a wall nearby, I would've banged my head on it. ”We can't track these things eight miles through a sewer. Underground fight it is.”

Lanningham and Dorland were talking to the police in a mix of French and Arabic. After a minute, Dorland said. ”Eight people, captured by three serpents. Five were killed on street level. Three more down below, including a five-year-old girl and her mother.”

”We're bringing them out. Alive,” I snapped. ”I'm going in. Watch my back.”

”I'm going in first,” Lanningham said. ”To make sure there's not something lying in wait for you.”

I thought briefly about overruling him, but he was right. I couldn't jump in the middle of things anymore. I had too big a part to play from here on out. ”Okay.”

We filed through the path the police had made for us and a man in coveralls met us at the manhole. ”I open it for you,” he said in halting English.

Once the cover was off, the man leapt back like he was scared a snake would pop out. Instead, steam, reeking of a stench I would never, ever forget, floated up. It smelled like a landfill had gotten busy with a latrine and had kids. My eyes watered.

Lanningham checked his ammo stash, then climbed down the rungs on the side of the tunnel leading into the sewer.

”All clear,” came a m.u.f.fled shout from below.

Good-my turn. I gave my knife handle a squeeze, then climbed down the ladder. The smell got worse briefly, then for some weird reason it faded. Water flowed in a stream down the center of a large circular tunnel with a pump station off to one side. The dark down here would've been absolute, save for the little bit of twilight coming in from the portal above and Lanningham's flashlight.

I moved forward five paces and waited for the other two to climb down.

”Which direction?” Lanningham asked once Blakeney's boots. .h.i.t the ground.

”Not sure. Tink? Talk to me.”

They're down there. We're not far from their nest. Her voice held nine shades of vengeance. We should pay them a call.

”What about the people they took? Still alive?”

She was quiet a moment. One. The child. We'll find her. Trust me.

”I do.” Here, Tink was my guiding star. I closed my eyes a minute, tuning into her energy, and slowly turned my body downstream. There was a tug in that direction, some kind of blot that spoke of old, evil places.

”How many people have died here?” I asked, my eyes still shut.

”Forty-two in the last six days. That includes nineteen children under the age of ten,” Lanningham's voice echoed back to me. ”And however many tonight.”

Children died here, Tink growled. Scared and alone, in pain in the dark.

Like the little girl I'd lost in Afghanistan. Like all the children sacrificed to Ann's dark arts. ”Not today.”

So what are you going to do about it? You can still save the one, Tink said. Her rage was contained by my will alone and I let her strength flow into my muscles and bones, until I became an instrument of death.

”Everyone, behind me,” I said. ”From here on out, I'm calling this one. Rifles ready and keep a handle on the flamethrower. We might want it.”

Letting that dark tug guide me in the right direction, I followed the sewer to its first branch, and took the left tunnel. The walls were narrower here-barely wide enough for two men to walk side by side-and slick with mold. The scent of rotten eggs grew stronger the farther in we went. It might be the wastewater, but demons always smelled of sulfur.

I held up a fist and the team stopped behind me. For the last several minutes, the only light had been Lanningham's flashlight, but now another light grew.

My knife's handle was glowing green.

We were close. While Tink was infinitely more than just the knife, in some ways the knife was more than just Tink. It sensed Dark brothers in the same way she did, through some magic all its own.

Twenty yards downstream, there was a T-juncture. The nest was probably inside one of the new branches. I eased the knife out of its sheath and took a step forward, then another. The rotten egg stench was nearly overpowering now, and I covered my nose with my hand.

I was still ten yards from the juncture when a dark ma.s.s shot out of the left-hand tunnel and slithered toward me with incredible speed. I barely had time to get the knife up before a huge, diamond shaped head snapped down at my skull. Fangs the length of my forearm whizzed over my head as I dropped flat on my back in the water to avoid the attack.

Feeding from Tink's power, I popped back up. There wasn't much room down here, and the snake was using its thick body to block the tunnel behind it. I couldn't tell exactly how big it was, but thirty feet long and three feet wide seemed like a conservative estimate.

”Look out!” Blakeney yelled.

I hazarded a glance over my shoulder. Another snake was slithering through the tunnel behind us. ”Where did that one come from?”

My knife's handle heated up in my hand. Right, take care of the close one first. It snapped at me again, but I wriggled past it. Because it was so wide, it had trouble doubling back fast enough to catch me, and once I was on its back, I slashed the blade through the tough hide a foot behind its head. The snake jerked and hissed, sending me into the slimy wall, then collapsed, splas.h.i.+ng my team with a wave of putrid water.

Rifle shots cracked. The new snake was closing on the team, but as we'd feared, the bullets bounced off its scales like it was armored. I pulled myself over the dead snake, shouting, ”Try the flamethrower!”

Dorland lit the igniter and the smell of burning gasoline added to the stench. The snake opened its enormous mouth, ready to come down on us, but Dorland stood his ground and filled its throat with fire instead. With a horrible hissing screech, the thing thrashed against the walls, sending small chunks of concrete down on our heads before it fell. I ran ahead to stab it in case it wasn't totally dead.

I'd regret that mistake.

”Behind you!” bellowed Lanningham.

I whirled around, but he wasn't talking to me. A new snake had come out of the T-juncture, slithering over its dead comrade. It shot forward at Lanningham's shout and clamped its jaws around Dorland's chest.

”No!” I ran, slipping on the moldy floor, and launched myself at the snake. It dropped Dorland, but I was already on top of it and I stabbed both of its eyes out before driving the blade into its skull.

When it fell, we rushed to help Dorland, but we were too late. The snake's jaws had crushed his torso into something unrecognizable.