“Run!” I yelled to Aunika as she got her footing.

I went one way, she went the other. I dove behind barrels, expecting gunfire. The only noise that rang out, though, was footsteps. Two pairs, coming from opposite directions. I kept moving, doubled over, as fast as I could move. When I reached a broken window, I vaulted through it. As usual, my move was a bit less graceful than I might have hoped, but I made it out. Even managed to land without twisting my ankle.

A second building twenty feet away was the obvious choice, but I spotted a broken basement window on the building I’d just come out of. I waited until I heard a set of running footfalls. Then I pitched a chunk of brick toward the neighboring building. A man shouted, “She’s next door.”

I slid through the broken basement window, back into the building I’d left. A fine escape plan, except that I failed to check before going through. There was enough glass left in the frame to slice open my arm as I dropped. I fell, hissing, and crouched there, cradling my arm.

Shit, it was a good gash. Probably stitch-worthy. I tugged off my jacket and shirt. Backing into the shadows, I kept an ear open as I ripped my shirt and bound the gash. Then took out my phone. I had enough bars to make a call. I went to speed-dial Ricky … and my phone vibrated.

Gabriel didn’t even wait for a hello. “Did you get a chance to speak to Ms. Madole?”

“Mmm, kind of.”

“Good. Can you talk now?”

This wouldn’t be the first time he just happened to call when I was in trouble. Gabriel has a sixth sense for trouble, and he would say it’s honed from his years on the street, but I suspect there’s a sprinkling of fairy dust in it, too.

“I’m in a … bit of a spot,” I said.

He exhaled, as if in relief. Something had prompted him to phone. That relief, of course, only lasted a second, his voice tightening as he said, “Where are you?”

Not What’s wrong? or Do you need help? Simply Where are you?

Tell me where you are, and I’ll be there.

I eased farther into the room, watching the bars to be sure I still had cell service. Then I gave him a version so condensed that even Ricky would have been asking questions to sort it out. Gabriel only said, “Where are you precisely?”

The chime of his car door sounded. The Jag roared to life as he said, “Olivia?”

“An empty building to the left of the drop-in center. Maybe one or two down. I’m in the basement. Text me when you get close.”

“Ten minutes.”

“It’s ten miles through the city.”

“Ten minutes. I’ll text you.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

After I got off the phone, I planned to head back into the tunnels to wait until I could reasonably expect a text from Gabriel. But my room led to another just like it, which in turn led … nowhere. There appeared to have been a doorway, at one time, but it had been sealed off by a pile of wood and dirt and brick, as if the ceiling had collapsed.

I climbed onto the mound of debris. My injured arm protested, but it only took a few minutes to clear enough to squeeze through. I poked my penlight through, making sure I wasn’t going to drop into a pit. I saw a room with a floor. Good enough. I wriggled through, touched down, and my foot slid, sending me falling backward, arms windmilling uselessly.

I dropped onto something both hard and soft and stinking of mold and mildew, and when I put my hands down, I recoiled as I touched … well, I wasn’t sure what I’d touched, only that I didn’t particularly want to do so again.

I peered down to see the side of a rusted metal bed, and a memory flashed, of the abandoned mental hospital, those rows of metal beds and the woman from my vision—my great-aunt—lying in one of those beds, her eyes gouged, tongue cut out, and the horror of that memory had me leaping up. My foot slid again, and I went back down on the bed, my left hand gripping what I’d touched before—the moldering remains of a thin mattress. My right hand had landed on something hard and knobby. When I saw what I was holding, I yelped and scrambled, shoes sliding on the slimy muck of the floor, and I had to grip the side of the metal bed and propel myself up. Then I stood there and looked down at the bed—at the body in the bed, a skeleton covered in tatters of cloth.

I lifted my penlight and saw two other beds, two other skeletons. I shone my beam over the one I’d landed on. My fall had dislocated the hip bone, and the left leg now lay separate from the body. What I’d grabbed had been the arm, and when I’d jumped, I hadn’t let go fast enough and I had pulled that away, too. The ulna and radius bones now hung from the side of the bed. I crouched and lowered my light for a better look, and sucked in breath when I saw why it dangled there.

Enough remnants of flesh remained to hold the forearm and hand bones together, and they hung suspended by manacles. When I shone my light over the other two bodies, I saw each had one hand in a rusted metal manacle.

Handcuffed to the beds.

The nearest body wore a tattered and grayed nightgown. The skull still had long dark hair. I was moving toward it when I tripped over something, and I shone the light down to see another corpse on the floor, also skeletonized, wearing enough clothing for me to suspect this one was male. I crouched beside it. He’d fallen facedown, hands outstretched over his head, as if—

“Well, go on, then,” a voice said. “You’ve earned it, boy. Have your fun.”

A door clanged and the body vanished. Beside me, something hissed, and I turned to see a dark-haired girl, no more than seventeen, wearing a thin shift. She sat on the edge of the bed with one hand cuffed to it. She leaned forward, her lips curled back as she hissed.