Chapter 16

Chapter

Sixteen

I stare at the tiled wall of an abandoned subway station. I have no idea how far we traveled to get here, but it's quieter than the marketplace. In fact, it's too quiet. I'm the only one here. Costin has left me with instructions not to move as he searches for bottled water.

He's bossy, and it's annoying, but I listen. Where am I going to wander off to? Following scary-ass tracks into the unknown darkness? For all I know, ghouls live right around the corner.

As a New Yorker, I know about these old subway tunnels. Usually, they are urban legends told drunkenly at bars as modern-day campfire stories about mole people and various scary entities. I never thought I'd find myself in them.

The station is a forgotten relic, sealed up and frozen in time, deep in the bowels of the city. It's no wonder supernatural creatures have claimed them. Thick dust blankets the cracked floor, and rust crawls along the edges of metal beams that support the ceiling. It's a little sad to think some brave builders sacrificed to create such a transportational work of art only to have it bypassed for a new plan.

Unlike the marketplace, the light here comes from old fixtures. I wonder if it's magic that keeps the bulbs flickering or if some fairy in a toolbelt flies through and replaces them when they burn out. Haunting shadows fall around me and when I close my eyes, I think I hear voices—soft and faint, like ghosts from another century.

My eyes are drawn to faded letters around a spiral pattern in the tile wall. I can only make out part of a word, Mort— . It's strange that the design is still here. I would have expected a layer of urban hieroglyphs, the graffiti of some tagger marking his territory. It's untouched by such vandalism. I brush my hand over it, dusting it off in an attempt to read what's there and shivering at the cold I find. The paint chips against my fingers, and I pull away.

The lights flicker harder than before, and I hope they don't go out. When Costin doesn't return, I move to the edge of the platform. I listen to the darkness stretching beyond the tunnel. All is an eerie silence but for the echoing drip-drip of water somewhere down the line. A piece of the ceiling falls from above, clanking on the corroded steel rails below.

I hear a faint rumble coming from the dark, and I instantly step away from the platform. A breeze comes toward me, bringing with it the stale air scented of damp concrete, oil, and decay. Yellowed paper somersaults across the floor. The rumbling becomes louder, and I see a soft flash of light. I press my back against the spiral on the wall and hold still as a transparent old train stops at the station. The doors open, but I don't see anyone getting on or off. It waits as if inviting me to go in.

I don't. I'm not an idiot. There is no way I'm hopping onboard a ghost train.

Where the hell is Costin?

"I don't belong here," I whisper. "What was I thinking? I can't do this."

What if Costin doesn't return?

A long, tense minute later, the train doors close, and it leaves. Its departure appears to stir one of the green butterflies hiding in the tunnel. It comes to hover over my head for several seconds before moving to land on the spiral on the tile wall.

"I know," I tell the butterfly in annoyance. "I get it. I have to do this alone."

I'm not sure I trust Costin not to follow me.

Oppressive stillness is only broken by the sound of my feet as I look for a possible escape. A staircase leads upward into a pile of rubble at the far end of the station platform. I reach for my neck out of old habit, not finding the amulet.

My phone dings, and I jump in fright before scrambling to pull it from my back pocket.

"Anthony," I whisper, seeing it's him. I open his text, "He"

He?

What does that mean?

At least he's okay. He's saying something.

I try to send him a question mark, but the phone says there is no service. I hold it up, walking the length of the platform, searching for a signal as I watch the screen.

The flicking overhead lights become more intense. Another piece of ceiling falls and clinks onto the floor next to me. I look up only to find more tiles coming toward me. They rain down, striking me on the head and arms as I try to shield myself.

The stone rain pelts harder, scratching my arms as it falls. I spin in circles, looking for safety. The spiral on the wall falls away to expose a tunnel. The butterfly flies inside. I run to follow it.

The second I crawl inside, the rain stops. I look behind me to see the stone wall grinding to a close with a decisive finality. The subway station is gone, and I'm left in darkness. Not even the butterfly remains with me.

"Costin?" I whisper, hoping he can hear me like he did when I called for him during the engagement party. "I'm not sure where I'm at."

Cold air comes at me, and for a second, I think it might be him. A shiver runs down my spine. Suddenly, flames burst close by as torches are lit by an invisible force. The light is enough to show the only way forward, but it leaves most of the cavernous space veiled in shadows.

"The labyrinth," I whisper as the realization dawns on me. That is what the spiral design on the wall represents. A magical entryway into this nightmare.

The troll's parting words echo in my mind, "She must face the trials alone, vampire."

It would seem the labyrinth agrees.

The tunnel curves to the right, the beginning of an ancient, mystical maze. The air feels charged with energy and smells of burnt, spent magic. I can't help but wonder how many have come before me.

Taking a deep breath, I force my fear down to the pit of my stomach. The troll said I had to do this alone. I need to be brave.

I need to have faith.

I'm not sure how one finds faith. It seems to be a thing that you either have or don't, that you find or lose, but never a thing you can will into existence.

I feel so alone, abandoned. I want to curl up into a ball and cry until somebody comes to save me. But if I give in to my fears, everything I love will be destroyed. I have to try.

I attempt to push my swirling thoughts down so I can concentrate on the task at hand. These are my trials, and I have no choice but to pass them.

As I walk by the torch on the cave wall, another appears ahead of me. The labyrinth is more than stone and shadows—it's alive, watching me, testing me. Costin warned me that it would try to deceive and misdirect me. I need to stay sharp and fight any paranoia that tries to set in.

I am alone. I have to believe I'm taking the right path.

I pray that path does not lead straight into Draakmar's lair.

My feet step steadily over the ground. My breath punctuates the silence. I keep my eyes focused ahead, watching for what may come to test me.

I continue along the curve. Torches light the path ahead. Behind me is unwelcoming darkness and a sealed subway wall. There is no going back, only forward.

I keep moving, eyes focused ahead. I wonder if the labyrinth is a maze and I must find my way through, but there is only one path spiraling to the right so far. Every so often, I touch the wall just to make sure it's real. A new torch appears to reveal that the pathway is turning to the left. I hesitate at the change and slow my steps. As I stop to watch, the path twists like a living thing, writhing and reshaping before my eyes. Yet the terrain beneath my shoes feels solid.

The ground vibrates, and a giant rock wall shoots up from the floor to block my path. I turn, but another wall blocks me. Firelight appears overhead, showing me the way.

The first obstacle.

The route behind me is closed. There is only one way to go. Up.

"You want me to climb?" I ask, half expecting the walls to answer.

They don't respond.

"Any chance I get a safety harness?"

Still no answer.

I suppose I owe my mother a thank you for all those exercise hours she made me log growing up. The sheer rock face seems to grow taller the closer I come. Jagged stones jut from its surface, and the uneven texture promises an arduous climb.

One trial is an assessment of strength. The labyrinth is testing my endurance, and the message it is sending is clear. Like in life, there are no easy paths or shortcuts. There is only onward.

I grab a handhold and hoist myself up. The torch sticking out of the side of the cliff overhead becomes my goal, and I climb toward it. I try not to think beyond the next push upward, but random thoughts still stir.

I grew up among the supernatural, yet I will never be one of them. I used to feel defective because of the power that flows through my family. However, I have accepted my mortality. At this point, I can't imagine having to learn to control fireballs or cast spells. I don't expect magic will come to me when I complete this test. Though it would be nice to have the amulet's protection again. Gods know I need it.

One torch disappears, and another takes its place. I look down, unable to see the bottom. I look up, finding an endless cliff. My muscles ache, and I'd give anything for a break.

"Keep going," I order through clenched teeth, forcing myself to breathe.

My fingers are raw and ache from gripping the textured surface. Every inch feels like it adds a thousand pounds to my body. My movements become stunted. I've lost momentum. I become frozen against the stone.

A tear slips down my face. The first task is climbing a wall and I've already failed. What good am I?

Merely mortal. Always mortal.

If the labyrinth wants to remind me just how human I am, how weak, it has succeeded .

What was my grandfather thinking? What was the wizard who wrote this prophecy thinking?

I can't save the world. I can't even climb a damn cliff.

My arms shake, and I try to reach the next handhold, but my fingers struggle to find a purchase on the stone, and I fall back down. My foot slips, and I hear stones crashing along the cliff face. My heart beats hard. Panic floods me. I won't survive the fall.

I try not to think of all the people I'm failing.

A faint cry comes from above. I'm too weak to look up as I cling to the rock.

"Hello?" I call out, hoping for help. The word echoes back at me.

The noise comes again. Someone sounds like they're in pain.

I manage to pull myself up another few inches.

The voice doesn't answer me, but it sounds familiar.

Anthony?

No. It can't be him. It's a trick. He should be somewhere safe. He needs to be.

The sound comes again, fainter than before but unmistakable.

"Anthony!" I yell. "Hold on, I'm coming!"

My stomach knots, and I grunt with each push upward. I force myself to ignore the pain, to keep climbing. The labyrinth is designed to mess with my head and exploit my fears, but it can also kill me. What if it brought Anthony into its game to make me suffer?

I can't lose another brother.

Desperation drives my actions.

"I'm coming," I whisper, breathless. "I'm coming."

I can't afford to think. The labyrinth will not wait for me to figure things out. It doesn't care if I feel sorry for myself or that I'm mortal. This is a test, and I can't fail.

"I'm coming."

The words become a mantra.

I feel around above my head, and my hand finds a flat surface. I somehow manage to hoist myself over the cliff's edge, having no idea how high I've climbed or how long. My limbs give out, and I collapse on the hard ground, rolling onto my back and pulling my legs to the side to get away from the edge. I suck in a deep breath, grateful for the air in my lungs and the earth beneath me. I'm exhausted and want to rest, but the labyrinth isn't done with me yet.

"Anthony?" I croak, wishing for that bottle of water.

The sound of my brother's voice is gone. I only hear my heavy breathing.

Another torch lights to show me a large cavern. Stalactites hang from above, pointing down like fingers. Small growths cling to the walls like popcorn. The light flickers over them, seeming to give them life. I roll over and army crawl along my stomach because I can't stand. The slide of my body echoes back to me.

"Anthony?"

He doesn't answer. I collapse. It feels like the walls are watching me, and I can almost sense the labyrinth's amusement at my weakness. One trial in, and I'm already spent.

Mere mortal. Human.

The doubt surfaces. It's what they all say about me. I don't need a stupid labyrinth to prove it true.

I hear my cell phone ding. The sound causes me to jolt in fright. I scramble to pull it from my pocket. I see a text message from Anthony, " Help ."

When I try to answer him, the phone dies, the screen flickering to useless black.

"Anthony?" I yell. "Where are you?"

The ground beneath me thumps, sending ripples through the stone like heartbeats. At first, I think it's my chest as I attempt to catch my breath from the climb. I try to push myself up, but the stone creaks and groans before I can get my bearings. A stalactite breaks off the ceiling and comes crashing down. I scream and curl into a ball. That first one is followed by its friends, all of the stone fingers diving from the ceiling to the ground below.

I bury my head in my hands, and my body jerks with each crash. When the noise stops, I look to find the cave formations have created walls to define my path. I push to my feet before the ceiling caves in on me. My muscles are fatigued, but fear gives me strength.

Something pushes up against my foot, and I stumble. A sharp vine twists from the ground next to me. Its barbs try to snag my shirt, and I hear a rip as I pull away. Another grows with lightning speed, whizzing dangerously close to my face. Heat seems to radiate from the vines. My heart quickens at the rapidly changing landscape. I dodge another and try to run, each step a test of my reflexes.

There is no time to strategize as I struggle against the supernatural terrain. The labyrinth is determined to wear me down, making me expend every ounce of my mortal limitations. I don't know how I keep moving.

My sneaker catches on one of the vines, and I hit the ground hard. The wind knocks from my lungs, and I wheeze. For a moment, I lay there, unable to draw a full breath. Exhaustion presses in. My body screams in pain.

Rage begins to replace the fear. I may not be built for this, and every inch of me might scream for a reprieve, but I can't let the supernatural win.

I'm hit with flashes of my life, and the grief stings. I think of Paul and Diana being chased by monsters, of Anthony and our parents being placed into the crypt wall, of the broken amulet killing Conrad. I think of Costin being forced to babysit me because of a prophecy. I don't know if he really cares or if I'm simply a diversion. Either way, I wish he was here now to save me. The supernatural world has taken so much from me.

Another thick vine curls from the ground near my feet. The temperature feels like the inside of an oven. Its thorny tip comes around to form an arch above me before embedding itself into the ground once more. I must keep going. Self-pity serves no one.

I push my doubt aside and shout, "You're not going to break me!"

Maybe it's foolish, but I want the labyrinth to know I'm going down fighting.

"Tamara," a disembodied voice whispers as if taunting me.

I swipe the tears from my face, feeling the unsettling sensation of someone watching me. Let them. I hope they find the mortal in a maze fucking entertaining.

"Get it together, Tamara," I whisper. The labyrinth is designed to distort reality, to make me doubt myself.

Another torch reveals the way as the one behind me disappears. Eerie silence is a welcome reprieve to the sound of creaks and rumbles. I propel my body angrily toward it, weaving past the last of the vines.

I'm sweaty and gross. My hands are raw. Dirt from the cave covers my clothes.

The walls groan, echoing my own insecurities, amplifying them. I keep going, doing my best to ignore the physical strain. I don't need the labyrinth to remind me of how outmatched I am, of how small and weak I always feel. It's been lingering beneath my surface since my birth.

I may not be like my family, with all their magic and power. I'm not like Costin, with his immortality and strength. But I do have one thing—no one expects me to succeed.

Maybe I don't belong in this world. Maybe I never will. But if it takes me down, it's going to be fighting.

"Tamara."

I hesitate and take a deep breath. I really hope that's not Draakmar calling out to me.