Chapter Forty

The tunnel didn't immediately open up to the market beyond. Instead, Kierse wound and curved for a while before she finally came upon it. Swallowing her fear, she marveled at the market before her. It was an underground cavern so big that she couldn't even see the other side. Dark and ominous and yet full of life. And monsters. Monsters were everywhere.

Solid structures had been built around the perimeter while the inside had hastily erected tents and shanties. Kierse moved with the flow of traffic as she entered the bustle of the market. The main thoroughfare deposited her at the center of a market square, and in the middle of the row of vendors was a statue of Coraline LeMort.

Kierse blinked in confusion. She didn't want to draw attention to herself, but what the hell would a statue of Coraline be doing in the underworld? She was a symbol of revolution and peace. Her statue outside of the Met had been erected post–Coraline Convention, when the world was ending the Monster War, but the underworld was the antithesis of that. King Louis and the Men of Valor wanted to end the Monster Treaty.

Curiosity got the better of her, and she sidled up to the statue, reading the plaque at Coraline's feet.

Sacrifice reaps the greatest reward.

– Coraline LeMort

So King Louis saw Coraline's death as a symbol of the new revolution he wanted, a necessary evil, and he'd twisted her words to fit his agenda. Typical.

Kierse gritted her teeth and turned around to find a dark tunnel blocked by elaborate gilded doors traced with wards. She could see a sun image at the heart of the wards just like on the checkpoints. Walter's wards. On the front of the gate was the Men of Valor logo—angel wings with an arrow shot through.

Giant trolls manned either side of the entrance with a disapproving look at anyone who came too close. Well, this must be the way into King Louis's residence. He certainly didn't hide his place. And why should he, here at the height of his power?

Eager to avoid the trolls' gazes, she moved back into the flow of traffic through the market, getting the lay of the land as Graves had suggested. She blended in well enough. There were plenty of men or monsters in hoods, hiding their faces and keeping to themselves. She silently mapped out her surroundings for Graves.

It was hard to imagine that this had once been a basement level of Grand Central. The place had clearly been gutted and made into this enormous monster market. She could see relics of its past use in the ventilation system, piping air out of the cavern, and old human workspaces now used as stalls.

She passed a meat vendor and tried not to let the shock show on her face. The shifter running the place was serving raw meat, and monsters sat on barstools, feasting on the flesh. She swore she saw something on a plate that looked vaguely human. Which hadn't been legal since the Monster Treaty, but no one was policing this place.

The next stall held potions and elixirs. There was a full black witch's cauldron brimming with fog. She wondered if that was to provide the right feel of the shop or if she was actually brewing something. She wondered how Dr. Mafi would feel about the stereotype.

Kierse moved on. She saw severed heads and blood bags and trinkets of all shapes and sizes that promised the wearer any number of magical properties. The next stall caught her eye, and she scanned the weapons with delight. Knives and swords and daggers. Handguns and machine guns and even a grenade launcher.

"You like what you see?" the man working the stall asked.

Kierse startled when she looked up. The man was no man at all. He was a phoenix. A rare breed of monster that could shift into a giant bird and burn to ash. The stories from before the war left out how a phoenix could use that fire to burn others to ash, too.

"Uh, no thank you," Kierse said quickly. Though her fingers itched to filch something off the table, she didn't particularly want to be burned to cinders today.

She took in the market, drawing blueprints in her mind. It was bigger than she'd anticipated, and she could have spent days walking around, but she had two main objectives: scope out the place and find a way to sneak Graves inside.

But she couldn't help having a third reason for being down here. Nate had known when Torra was kidnapped that she'd been brought to Third Floor, but they had never found a way inside. Nate was too much of a human sympathizer. He helped with the Monster Treaty. No one was letting him or his people down here, even if they had known where to start looking. Now it made perfect sense that they never would have been able to get in.

And she knew the bastard who had taken Torra was a monster named Orik Thompson. She'd found that name and a phone number in a scrap of paperwork in Torra's abandoned apartment. She'd looked into the name and discovered he was a vampire known for trafficking humans into Third Floor.

Maybe the last thing she should do is search out someone like Orik Thompson, but this might be her only opportunity to get answers... or to kill the monster who had done this to Torra.

With her hood low over her eyes, she ignored the passing monsters and headed toward the nearest bar—a constant source of information above, and she doubted it would be any different below. A lumbering troll nearly ran into her. A shirtless, muscled mer passed so close that she could smell the ocean on him. A werewolf strode by with a stalking gait. Vampires and werewolves had been on opposing sides of their own war for eons. The treaty must upset a great deal of monsters for a werewolf to be in a vampire's market.

Finally, she stepped into an aptly named bar: Blood. The place looked exactly as any grimy dive bar did above, save for the monsters and pitchers of what appeared to be human blood on tap. Kierse took up a seat in a corner of the bar and ordered a beer that she refused to touch. She sat there long enough for the bartender to ignore her and for her to hear way too much from a goblin crowing about how King Louis had forty-eight acres down here and still he couldn't find space for his new human-murdering business. He didn't say it like that, exactly, but it was both disgusting and terrifying to think of the breadth of King Louis's reach if he had Walter handling nearly fifty acres of property plus his private quarters.

Finally, she found her opportunity as the bartender came over to investigate if she'd want another drink. She slipped him a fifty-dollar bill and leaned forward. "Actually, just curious if you know where I can find someone."

The monster palmed the fifty and waited expectantly. "Depends on who it is."

"Orik Thompson."

He held his hand out for more money, and she handed over another fifty. Good thing she'd added cash to her pockets just as she'd added her heavily concealed weaponry.

"Sure. Orik works at a place around the corner." He eyed her crudely up and down. "Why? You want a job?"

"No, thank you," she said, sliding another bill toward him. "Directions?"

"Place is called Red Velvet." He smirked as he told her how to get there.

"Okay. And how will I recognize him?" Another bill.

"Can't miss him. Short and bald with a long, blond beard." He grinned, showing off his pointed vampire canines. "He's going to like you, if you know what I mean."

She was afraid that she did know what he meant. But at least she had a lead. The first one she'd had in a year. It was time to get some answers.

She dropped more money in his tip jar as she left.

"Forget I asked," she added.

The bartender waved her off like it was normal business.

The directions were good, and Kierse successfully navigated the market to find Orik's workplace. Kierse's blood ran cold at the sight. She'd known exactly who the monster was and the crimes he'd committed, but seeing it in person made it all so much more real.

Red Velvet was a vampire brothel. Humans hung in the windows, their bodies on display, their necks exposed. The lavish red exterior was a stark contrast to the blacks and dark grays of the rest of the market.

Was this where Torra had been taken? Had she been sold to these people?

She was furious at the thought, but there was nothing to do but use her anger and disgust.

First, it was time to have a little chat with Orik Thompson. A bullet might not kill a vamp, but it sure would slow him down long enough for her to cut his head off.