Chapter 42

42

I n the end, the grand Toronto base looks more like a sprawling shipping center than anything sinister. Like the mega Walmart distribution hubs centered in the Midwest, completely unremarkable.

Gurlien's information holds true, and they skirt the alarm runes easily, and Chloe's guidance brings them right to an exhaust vent that's obviously way too small for all of them to fit through.

It's innocent enough for an entrance to a prison.

"And this leads to the cubical level?" Maison asks, skeptical.

The fact that this magical prison, where they kept Chloe locked away, has a cubical level is surreal.

But even magical prisons have bureaucracy.

"Yes," Chloe says, nervy, and there's one of the protection rings on each of her fingers in what's almost certainly overkill. "See you in fifteen minutes at the bricks right there, I'm swooping by the evidence lockers then coming right out."

Delina nods, standing back as Chloe cinches her backpack down tight against her body and fixing the bribed badge over her chest.

"You'll do it in ten," Gurlien replies dismissively. "This is child's play for you, you've been doing things way more difficult since you were thirteen."

"I know that," Chloe shoots back. "I just…"

"Swore you'd never be here again?" Gurlien supplies, and Delina and Maison exchange a glance. "We know, and that's not gonna mean that this bit isn't going to be super easy."

Chloe nods, and Gurlien raises an eyebrow at her.

"This is easy and you're fine," Gurlien says again. "I'm gonna time you."

"Oh fuck off," Chloe says, then adjusts her backpack again and focuses.

The brickwork wavers, unmoving, but the grate covering the vent bends, then goes limp, like it's made out of noodles instead of metal, and Chloe breathes out, shaking the tension out of her hands.

"This is the easy part," she whispers to herself, then, with a boost from Gurlien, pushes aside the vent and climbs in.

The air wavers again, before the metal snaps back into place, and her footsteps fade from hearing.

Gurlien dusts his hands off, then spins to Maison. "If you don't thank her for this, I will punch you."

"Like that would hurt me," Maison says back, but he's nodding. "Obviously. Yes. We get out of this and I'll…I'll be in your debt for a while."

"Of course," Gurlien says, almost neutral. "We'll absolutely call you on that."

Delina raises an eyebrow at the two of them. "That have bigger magical connotations?"

"Not really," Maison reassures her, but he is tense, nervous. "Maybe to full demons, not to me."

"Not that I've encountered, at least," Gurlien says, and he too is bouncing on his toes. "Some spirits, yes. Wights, not really, but they have a big culture of not going back on their words so practically yes."

"So we really get a way out," Delina muses, before scuffing the toe of her boot on the grimy snow of the alleyway.

"Yep," Maison replies, grim, and they all fall silent.

Delina sidles up to Maison, pressing her shoulder against his. They're mostly sheltered from the wind, but it's still…nice.

"She can do this, it's not even a small problem," Gurlien babbles, breaking the tenuous quiet, and this must be his form of nerves. "The bunker we broke into two weeks ago was more difficult, this'll be nothing."

Delina doesn't really have anything to say back.

"Do they burn their dead?" Delina asks, and both Maison and Gurlien flinch. "I get…nothing from out here from in there. Not even a bug or a mouse."

"Dampening spells," Maison replies, and he presses his shoulder back against hers. "Protects the area, doesn't let any magic outside the walls."

"Also doesn't let any in," Gurlien says. "So if we tried to strike the building, we wouldn't be able to. The grate here," he gestures at it, "sticks out just enough that it's outside the spells."

Delina nods, staring at the pockmarked brick. "So I'll get hit by it inside."

"If there's dead, yes." There's a clunk in the wall, and they all freeze, but nothing happens. "That wasn't Chloe, that's the wrong spot," Gurlien says.

"What about a tank?" Delina asks. "Roll up a tank to the front door, would that do it?"

"Oh my god," Gurlien mutters. "You are just like your mom."

"That would explain all the extra guns," Maison deadpans.

Another thunk on the brick, and they all freeze.

"There will be thirty-seven guards on duty," Gurlien repeats in a low voice. "Most on the non-stasis floors. None active on this level. We're okay."

Maison shifts again, and Delina recognizes the motion now to know that he's putting himself in a position he can easily shield her if needed.

He slicked back his hair that morning, just enough to break the silhouette, and combined with the beard he looks just enough like another person that her heart jumps, just a bit.

Delina herself had left her hair down, wispy around her face, softening her features away from what both Gurlien and Chloe called the Frisse facial structure. Away from the appearance that everyone who saw her would immediately recognize her as her mother's daughter.

She doesn't like it too much.

Another scratch at the brick, like a rat trying to eat through the wall itself, and they all watch, still.

Delina touches the pill box with the dead bugs inside, her fingertips soft against the hard plastic.

The very air seems to still around them, the chill far away, before the bricks fall open, revealing a half-sized door, Chloe crouched in the middle.

Gurlien exhales, then checks his watch. "That was only seven minutes."

Chloe leads them through a darkened hallway, the only light the glow from runes written into the very walls, illuminating as they walk past.

The cheap carpet deadens all their footsteps.

"There," Gurlien whispers, pointing to yet another security camera, and Chloe silently turns the glass in the lens to opaque plastic.

Delina keeps the pill box of death gripped in her fist.

"There's a demon trap up ahead," Maison whispers, and the sound doesn't carry his words. "After the bend."

Chloe nods, then gestures Delina up.

Because Delina has to do some of the work here, conserving Chloe for the traps that she has no ability to take down.

They turn the bend, and there's…nothing. No paint on the floor, no paint on the ceiling, nothing.

"Under the carpet," Maison murmurs, and she's never taken down something she can't see. "Here."

He taps her hand, and the world bursts into gold.

Gold everywhere. Gold along all the walls, gold in the footsteps on the floor, gold outlining the ancient computers in the cubicles.

And gold, ever so faint, shining in a circle painted under the carpet.

"And another dampening," Chloe whispers, "they must deal with demons up until this point, but no further."

"Interesting," Gurlien responds.

One of the lines of the circle is fainter than the rest, like it's been shifted over and over again, like a gate.

Delina rests her hand against it, and Maison breathes out, before giving her a quick glimpse of his dimple. "This isn't going to be pretty," she warns, before yanking on the line, until the strip of magic shatters.

And, immediately, the entire building slams into focus.

Death, death, and more death floods into her.

Something dead, two floors down, ended by a knife to the heart.

A twisted mound of flesh, so warped that the nerves wrapped itself around the lungs and squeezed until no more air could reach the brain.

A human, completely normal, all but just a skeleton.

A…a demon, foul and bitter against her tongue, dead from a surge of power.

A person, draped over a clinical cot, rotting from the inside, long dead but the skin around them perfectly preserved. They aren't wholly human, not entirely, but her mind skips away from it as soon as it can.

Another person, the body perfectly still, the lungs stopped by a chemical she can't quite taste, long ago…and with a jolt she realizes that she gets the same sensation from him as she does Maison.

A Half Demon. Just like him.

All this information, all this knowledge, and she gets it before her butt even hits the floor, the air knocked out of her.

"Woah, you're okay?" Maison's asking, he's rubbing her back as she blinks through unbidden tears. "What happened, you're okay?"

"We need to keep moving," Chloe says, her voice muted.

Delina swallows down the horror, past the lump in her throat, then clings to Maison's arm, pulling herself up.

"All the…uh…dead in the building, I just got…yeah, just got to where I could sense them," Delina says, rubbing her eyes, trying to see past the stars swimming in her vision. "That broke the dampening."

The other three exchange glances.

"There's a lot," Delina says, getting her feet underneath herself. "They're…some of these died in horrific ways."

Maison huffs out a breath, the lines around his eyes tightening. "I'm not surprised."

"I'm only surprised that they'd keep bodies around," Gurlien says, grim.

"These ones felt…" Delina trails off, unsure of how to describe the careful, deliberate nature of the deaths. "More like experiments."

"Oh my god," Chloe mumbles, then shakes out her hands. "We need to keep moving."

Delina nods, pulling whatever composure she can to her. "I don't think I can raise them all."

Her voice is smaller than she'd like.

"Yeah, definitely don't," Gurlien says, and he ventures forward, a ghost of a frown across his face. "Conserve your energy until we need it."

They creep through rows upon rows of cubicles, all lit by just the glow of runes as they pass by, and each time the badges they wear briefly warm.

And each step, Delina's able to feel more deaths.

They have to stop, frequently, to undo traps and securities both small and large. A notification spell someone sketched near their desk, so they know if someone's walking up behind them. A trap meant to stop someone unwanted in their tracks, close to the printer. A glowing rune on the bathroom door, keeping track of how many times it's opened and closed, how many rolls of toilet paper inside.

A trap that Chloe says would snap drain the blood of anyone unexpected who steps unknowingly inside of it. It was coded to recognize everyone who should be there, so only intruders would get ensnared.

"We're not pretending this is normal, are we?" Delina mumbles, as Chloe painstakingly clears the way on that one. "Instant death seems a bit rough for an intruder."

"Only if you didn't grow up in it," Maison replies, his eyes glowing red as he watches Chloe. "Everyone here probably did, probably thought it was standard."

"And there," Gurlien points, "is the head of Toronto's office. Anyone doing espionage, anyone trying to steal his secrets, would go through it."

Delina swallows, glancing at the unassuming door. It's just a normal office door with frosted glass and a standard nameplate.

The glowing trap unravels with a snap, and Chloe exhales, standing up and brushing off her hands. There's a spike of pain there, in her fingertips, but Chloe doesn't react to it so Delina's not going to point it out.

"That one was nastier than I thought," Chloe says, and her voice is strained. "Next non-demon one, Maison you need to get."

It's as close to a cry for help as she's ever given.

"Did they use the thorn unravel?" Gurlien asks, and Chloe nods. "You can thank your mom for that, Delina. She designed the traps to hurt when taken down."

"Of course she did," Delina says, and Chloe confidently steps over the barren threads of the trap, so they follow.

They pass another hallway, before both Maison and Chloe still, sudden enough that Delina almost runs into Chloe's back.

"We tripped something," Maison says, barely moving, like he's afraid extra motion will set something off. "A while back, something just went off."

Chloe breathes out hard from her nose, her eyes narrowing. "I can't tell what it is."

"Me neither," Maison replies, before he reaches a hand out and curves his fingers over Delina's elbow, almost a reassurance.

"We shouldn't stay here," Gurlien says, eyes narrowed. "If it's back there, if it's delayed, we shouldn't be here when it comes to us."

Still, Maison and Chloe don't move, and Maison's hand over her elbow tightens.

Delina watches him, as his eyes move, rapid, across the entire hallway, before all the runes dim, the light fading away.

A chill steals over Delina and she shivers.

"Guys?" Gurlien asks, and there's a hint of fear in his voice, lilting upwards. "What do you see?"

There's nothing, just the light dimming until all she can see is the vague silhouettes of the group around her.

"Don't move," Maison orders, and all she can see is the faintest outline of his jaw. "Just don't move."

Delina forces herself to remain still, to not move, though her heart pounds so loud it must be audible, echoing through her ears.

And nothing happens.

Nothing happens, but for the faintest whoosh of air, tickling over her skin, ruffling her clothes, clattering their badges.

Maison hisses out a breath, his fingers tightening imperceptibly, like he's typing something out against her skin by touch, before the world abruptly brightens, all runes glowing, and he flinches.

"Okay, let's move," he says, dropping Delina's elbow and immediately striding again.

Delina almost has to jog to keep up.

"What was that?" Gurlien demands, though his eyes are wide as well. "What type, what—"

"I don't know, Gurlien," Chloe says, clutching the straps on her backpack tightly. "I don't know, and I don't know if we hid ourselves, or—"

"We hid," Maison replies. "We hid but they know something's up."

"Shit," Delina breathes, and Maison rips up another trap in front of them, barely pausing in his stride. "What do we—"

They turn another corner…to an abrupt dead end, drawing them up.

And Chloe stares at it, her eyes dark, before she lifts her chin.

"You all ready to go into the locking pits?"