Chapter 53

53

May 14, 6:24 P . M . ANAT

East Siberian Sea

Valya hunted along a tunnel carved with a snarl of vines on one side and a swirling seascape on the other. She had paused briefly with Nadira when a deafening boom had blasted, briefly turning ice to fire behind them. But the world fell back into darkness, and they continued onward.

A firefight had followed, too, so brief that Valya had never slowed.

Her focus remained ahead.

Earlier, she and Nadira had hidden at the city's edge after Sychkin came howling out of this passageway, without Yerik, hauled by a wounded soldier. Something lay hidden back here, but that was not Valya's goal. After the archpriest had returned, Valya had counted on her true target to show herself, to come searching for answers to the man's screams.

This proved true when Valya spotted a lithe figure dart out of hiding, dance through the icy shadows, and duck in here.

Valya and Nadira had quickly followed. Once into the dark tunnels, they had donned their night-vision gear and trailed the flare of light that marked Seichan's passage. They kept their distance, wary of any allies.

For now.

6:25 P . M .

Seichan fled along the carved tunnel, her heart in her throat. She had heard the gunfire behind her. It had to mark the assault by Gray and Tucker, but had they been successful?

She took a deep breath and shoved her fear down. It served nothing. If the Guild had taught her any useful skill beyond murder and terror, it was to remain focused upon the task at hand, to look forward and not back.

But that did not mean to put on blinders.

Her ears remained attuned to her surroundings. She heard the cracking of ice behind her, loud and more regular now. The huge explosion must have weakened the waterfall. This was confirmed by a resounding crash behind her, crystalline and bright. The waterfall was coming apart even faster than she'd thought.

If it should collapse, her only exit would be blocked by thousands of tons of ice. She and the others would suffocate before any rescue could be mounted, poisoned by the sulfurous air.

Recognizing this, she ran faster, her light bouncing across the walls.

As she did, she heard a scuff of sandy rock behind her. She might have missed it—except she had been holding her breath at the thought of suffocation. Plus, the acoustics of this tunnel amplified even a whisper.

She kept her pace steady, so as not to alert those behind her. She knew who must be sharing this tunnel. Though she had never spotted Valya among the Russians, it had to be her. No plodding Russian soldier moved so silently. No doubt Nadira was with her, too.

Seichan took the only action available to her.

While still running, she bent and gently touched her flashlight to the floor, abandoning it there. She then fled onward into the dark. She needed time, more than she needed light. She ran her fingertips across the carvings, feeling the thorns of the plants, letting the tortuous garden lead her forward.

Behind her, the abandoned flashlight should slow Valya. It would force the woman to proceed more cautiously, thinking Seichan had stopped or had reached the end of the tunnel. Plus, the dazzle of the brightness would make Valya pause. Those two hunters would need time to abandon their gear and let their eyes readjust to the dimness.

Taking advantage of this, Seichan ran onward until starlight glowed ahead of her. She blinked, trying to understand it—then did. It was the lights of the others, flowing from wherever they had holed up.

As she rushed forward, strategies flashed behind her eyes. Panicked, she momentarily forgot her training.

Her left leg struck a low boulder and sent her into a wild roll. Behind her, the crash of pottery revealed the true nature of the obstacle.

One of those damned sculpted jars .

She halted herself before tumbling into the mudpot that boiled and belched ahead of her. She pushed ahead on her hands and knees.

Lights flared on the far side. The glare stung her eyes. She raised a hand against it. A figure stepped into view, decked in Arctic camo. One of the soldiers. She snatched at her holstered SIG, but a voice called over, high-pitched and confused.

"Seichan?"

She recognized the voice. Still, she freed her pistol, arming herself until she understood the situation. The botanist came running around the steaming pit. Only then did Seichan notice the body floating atop the quaking mud.

Yerik.

Elle helped her to her feet. Omryn came around the far side. Like Tucker, he had donned a dead man's armor.

"The others?" Seichan asked, quickly assessing the situation.

"Anna is inside with the doctor and Jason. He's recovered. But weak."

"How?"

"Long story. I found—"

Seichan cut her off. "Don't care. Everyone back into the chamber. All lights out. No sound." She glanced back. "Trouble is coming. Valya and Nadira."

Elle looked sickened at this news, but resolute. "We can make a stand here."

"No time. We can't get pinned down."

Elle looked confused.

"That waterfall is one bad shake from crashing down, of turning this place into a tomb. That's why I came here. To get you all moving. But—"

She glanced back to the main tunnel as the lighting shifted. Far down the passageway, the steady glow now bobbled.

Valya found my light. Knows it was a ruse.

Seichan swung back to the others. "Hide. I'm going to lead them off." She pointed at the side tunnel that headed to the toxic garden. "Once they follow me, you all need to run for the exit. As fast as you can sprint. Carry Jason if you must."

"I will do my best," Omryn promised, lifting a palm to his stomach.

Seichan finally noted the belly wrap under his armor. She grimaced. This group needed to get moving ASAP. Burdened by the injured and afflicted, they would be moving slower than she had hoped.

She started to turn for the garden passageway, then swung back around. She held out her pistol toward Omryn. "Trade me."

He looked down at his Remington 12-gauge, clearly reluctant to part with it. But he passed over the shotgun.

She hefted it, testing its weight.

I'll need a weapon like this to deal with Valya .

Omryn took her SIG, but he added a warning, nodding to the Remington. "That's my last magazine in there. Only six slugs left."

Seichan nodded.

It will have to do.

That and one other item.

She held her hand out to Elle. "Your flashlight."

The botanist handed it over.

"Now go," Seichan ordered.

Trusting them to obey, she fled around the mudpot and dashed down the garden path. As she ran, she made a promise to herself, one she had made earlier, one she intended to keep. She pictured Valya.

Only one of us will walk out of here—or neither of us will.

6:32 P . M .

Valya approached the end of the dark tunnel, hugging one side, where stony thorns tugged at her body armor. Nadira flanked the other side. They both kept low and ran dark. Small lights—IR illuminators—were fixed to their rifles and cast an invisible spectrum that their night-vision gear could detect.

The two scanned the next room, careful of the broken pottery underfoot. A pit bubbled and popped with molten mud, spitting and hissing in the dark. A body floated atop the quagmire.

The archpriest's lapdog .

As Valya had suspected, there must be others besides Seichan down here. Unfortunately, her target knew she was being hunted, evident from the trick with the abandoned flashlight.

A search of this chamber revealed three tunnels leading away. Her sensitive goggles picked up a flare of light rising from the passageway to the right. Nadira spotted it, too, motioning with her hand in that direction.

Valya sidled into the chamber with her rifle raised. She edged toward the tunnel's mouth, while signaling Nadira to sweep around the mudpit and approach from the other side. Her lieutenant moved swiftly, a dark, silent shadow. Valya waited until they were both in position. She kept high, while Nadira dropped low.

Valya counted off on three fingers. As she curled her last digit, they both leaned out, rifles tucked to cheeks. The light rose from around a curve of the tunnel, retreating away. The glare was blinding, but clearly no one was in sight.

Satisfied, Valya nodded to Nadira and tugged off her goggles. She would not let herself be blinded again. Nadira followed her example. They set off in pursuit, still running dark, using the meager light ahead to guide them. Then she heard a faint echoing whisper: Seichan warning those who were with her to stay quiet.

Valya tightened the grip on her rifle.

The light continued to retreat ahead of them.

Where are you going?

A loud blast and a flash of muzzle fire dropped Valya low. A dark shadow rolled from the floor ahead. Seichan must have lain in wait in the shadows, sending the others ahead with her light.

On her belly, Valya opened fire with a deafening barrage on auto. Her rounds sparked brightly off the sculpted walls. Nadira used the cover to run forward, to get a bead on Seichan as the woman retreated around a curve of the tunnel. As Nadira opened fire, Valya burst to her feet and followed, closing the distance.

Two more thunderous blasts—clearly from a shotgun—pounded Valya's ears. One slug shattered stone. The second caught Nadira in the shoulder, hard enough to slam the woman back. She struck the wall hard but continued firing, strafing wildly, clearing the tunnel ahead.

Valya reached her, keeping low.

Nadira groaned, but she remained standing. Her combat armor had protected her from a worse outcome.

Valya focused forward. "On my mar—"

Nadira's rifle slumped, falling slack, then her weapon clattered to the stone.

Confused, Valya retreated a step. Nadira still stood, but the woman's knees bent under her. Only then did Valya note the black blood running down her lieutenant's neck—and the spear of rock, one of the sculpted thorns, poking through her throat. While the shotgun strike hadn't killed her, the impact into that wall had.

Nadira gurgled, then went slack, hanging on that sharp spike.

In the silence that followed, a rapid pounding of boots sounded behind her, echoing from the mud chamber. As Valya listened, she heard frantic whispers. Then the noises receded, fading off into the distance, marking a panicked flight out of here.

Valya sneered as she understood. Seichan's allies hadn't been running with her. They had been left hidden behind. Valya stared ahead, calculating. She couldn't know for sure if one or two allies were still with Seichan, offering support, but her gut told her otherwise.

Valya knew her target.

She's alone.

A moment ago, Seichan must have rolled her flashlight down the tunnel, making it look as if others were retreating with it—while setting up the ambush that killed Nadira.

Valya growled in annoyance, but she had to respect the tactic.

She weighed whether to leave or not, to abandon this hunt. She shook her head and crouched lower. It wasn't pride that kept her fixed. If she ran, Seichan would follow. And Valya had no knowledge of how many of the woman's allies had taken flight down the other tunnel, or how they might be armed. She pictured Sychkin. Plus, two spetsnaz soldiers had never returned with the wounded priest. That was enough reason to be cautious of those others. She dared not get pinned down, between Seichan behind her and an unknown enemy ahead.

Valya grimaced, having another reason to continue her hunt.

She pictured her brother, cold in an Arctic grave in Greenland, and tightened her grip on her rifle.

It was time to end this.

She set off, moving silently toward the light. It had stopped retreating. Her ears strained for any telltale warning. She breathed softly through her nose. She edged around the corner and spotted a flashlight, again abandoned on the floor. But it was not a delaying tactic. Seichan had no more need of a light. The end of the tunnel lay ahead, opening into a cavernous chamber that shone with a wan glow.

Valya increased her pace, fearing she would lose her target inside there.

Still, she kept her rifle pointed, her eyes searching for any movement. Then a small metallic ringing reached her. She tried to imagine its source but failed. Its distance was also hard to discern, like a faint bell chiming over hills.

This mystery slowed her again.

As she reached the abandoned flashlight, she flicked it off. She did not want her shadow to be cast ahead of her, giving away her approach. Paused there, she heard a strange rustling. It was not the brush of cloth. It sounded expansive and stretched far across the next cavern.

Frowning, suspicious, she slunk lower and hugged the wall, cautious of those stony spikes. Finally, she could see into the cavern.

The sight froze her.

Under a cracked roof, shining with sunlit ice, a vast garden spread across a steaming mudflat, which burbled and spat in accompaniment to that rustling. The landscape stirred and waved, as if swept by winds—but there was no breeze down here. She remembered how Sychkin had wanted a botanist to aid in the search, one with experience in carnivorous plants.

Valya now knew why.

Movement drew her eye to the left.

A tarnished skiff drifted rudderless across a skim of acidic water and mud. It looked made of copper. She recalled the metallic ringing.

Copper over rock , she realized now.

From the distance and angle, she could not tell if anyone was aboard, sprawled flat and out of sight. She leaned farther into the cavern, trying to get a better view. Another boat lay overturned on the shore, as if inviting Valya to tip it over and follow.

Then she spotted the trap.

A glint of light revealed the muzzle of a weapon hidden under that overturned boat, which rested crookedly on a rock. The shotgun pointed directly at her from that copper bunker.

She had a fraction of a moment to react, less than a single clench of her heart.

She dove headlong to the side, crashing across a pile of pottery jugs. She hit her wounded shoulder. Agony burst through her, narrowing her vision to a pinpoint. Sliding on that bad shoulder, she strafed under the lip of the overturned boat. Rounds pinged and sparked fire off the copper. The boat shifted and rattled under the barrage.

She did not wait, ready to leap for another angle of attack. She shoved to a leg, extending the other for balance. She never stopped firing.

Then a snake bit, just above the back of her boot. The pain was sharp. Her foot wobbled, suddenly unable to support her weight. She sprawled forward, striking her forehead against the rock.

Then a weight landed on her back, pounding her flat.

She twisted enough to spot Seichan straddling her.

How...?

Behind Seichan, a drape of leather waved and answered Valya's question.

Seichan hadn't been hiding out on that drifting boat, or under the one on shore, but behind a rack of old clothing. The muzzle of the shotgun had been a decoy to hold Valya's attention.

Valya struggled, but one arm was deadened after the crash onto her wounded shoulder. She had no purchase with the opposite leg. She knew why. The pain by her boot hadn't been a snake strike, but the slice of a knife—across her Achilles tendon—hobbling her.

Still, Valya kicked with her good leg, trying to roll from under Seichan. With her rifle pinned beneath her, Valya grabbed for her pistol. She managed to free it, but before she could bend an elbow and fire behind her, a blade slammed into her forearm and drove her limb down. The steel twisted, severing tendons. Her pistol clattered free.

Seichan snatched the gun, leaving the blade embedded.

Valya gasped—not in pain, but in shock. She recognized the black handle sticking out of her arm, the cast of its steel. It was her athamé dagger, her grandmother's ceremonial blade.

"You left this behind," Seichan hissed at her ear. "Thought I'd return it."

6:42 P . M .

Seichan felt Valya go slack under her, but she didn't trust it. She kept the pistol at the back of the woman's head, another blade at Valya's throat. Her heart pounded, demanded that she plunge the knife deep, to end not just this life, but to sever Seichan's past from her present.

Valya was the last vestige of her former life, a pale ghost that had been haunting her, a reminder of who she had once been. The monster inside Seichan wailed to be released, to be let loose, if only this one last time, to end the long, bloody journey that had led here.

"Do it," Valya said coldly.

There was no defeat, no fury, not even resignation.

Just acceptance.

Seichan knew this woman was her pale doppelganger, brutalized into who she was as readily as Seichan had been. If it hadn't been for Gray, this might still be her. In this moment, she wondered if Valya's long pursuit of her had not been solely fueled by revenge, but driven more by an underlying envy.

I escaped.

Still, Seichan knew that wasn't entirely true.

A monster remained inside her, one that still wailed for blood. She recognized it would never be sated. There was one way to kill such a ravenous beast.

To starve it to death.

She climbed off of Valya, sheathed her dagger, and yanked the rifle from under the woman. Seichan flung her arm, sending the weapon out into the steaming mud. All the time, she kept her pistol pointed, never wavering, never trusting.

She stared down at Valya. The woman's blood flowed down the stone.

The beast wailed inside her, wanting more.

"I won't be that monster," she whispered, knowing she had made this pledge before. She intended to keep it this time.

For Gray, for Jack, for my future.

Still...

She reached down, tugged free the athamé dagger, and severed Valya's other Achilles. She flung the blade far, then fled the poisonous cavern, casting back a final promise.

"But I won't be a fool either."

Not ever .