Madhouse (Cal Leandros, #3)(83)

"Travelers." There was the low hiss of several voices in unison. "Trespassers."

Great, a new refrain.

"They've learned a new word," I drawled. "How goddamn clever is that?"

"Several rungs below a brainless parrot," Nik responded with arctic bite, "and an utter waste of our time." More damn revenants and no Sawney. We were all disappointed. I knew I was tired of hacking at their stubborn, disgusting flesh. There was no honor in battle, no honor in killing. There was only necessity. Niko had taught me that. But if there had been honor, revenants wouldn't have entered that picture anywhere.

"Trespassers." What had been glimpses became a long look and then a close-up of one of the most freakish things I'd ever seen. "Trespasserstrespasserstrespassers." They boiled into the light, arms flailing.

They were wearing straitjackets, every last one of them—left over from the good old madhouse days. No longer white, the grubby cloth was rotting and ripped. The overly long sleeves weren't fastened behind. Instead they flapped like the wings of maddened birds or wove through the air like a striking snake as the revenants ran. It was oddly hypnotic and not-so-oddly horrific. It wasn't enough that revenants looked like zombies; now they looked like zombies of the insane. Sawney wasn't happy just being mad himself or seeking it out; he had to dress up his goddamn pets that way as well. Talk about your hobbies we all could've done without.

"I've lived a long, long time and I've seen many, many things," Robin said, awed, at my back, "and I can confidently say that I have never seen anything quite like that." I didn't have time to respond. They were almost on us and I raised the Eagle and fired several shots.

Explosive rounds, they might not have much effect on Sawney, but they worked like a f*cking charm on his boys. We didn't end up fighting them, but we did end up wearing them. I wiped a hand across my face, clearing it of pulverized flesh and thin, watery blood. I didn't wait for Robin's outraged comment about his wardrobe that had to be fast on its way. "Yeah, sorry about that," I said automatically as I heard his disbelieving gurgle behind me.

We moved on without further discussion. All in all, the best thing for me. We stepped over the bodies of straitjacketed revenants and dodged the two slow-moving ones that had craters in their heads. The spoonful of brains they had left kept them moving around, but not too aware.

Which is exactly how I felt when the ground disappeared beneath me.





21




This just wasn't my day.

I used to hate the sensation of falling, same as anyone else. But since I'd made a few gates and traveled through them … a traveler just as Sawney said…that had changed. I still didn't like it, don't get me wrong, but I sort of recognized the feeling. Walking through those gates was like falling, only not just down. It felt like falling down, up, and sideways— all at once. Hard to imagine, but that's how it felt.

So when the floor caved in under me and I fell, for a second I was confused. Had I opened a gate and not even realized it? One moment of confusion, but it was long enough to hit and hit hard.

I lost the flashlight. I didn't lose my gun. If the fall had killed me, I still wouldn't have lost the gun.

I'd landed on my side. I blinked dazedly into the blackness and realized…yeah, that wasn't an Auphe gate. You fell, *. Now get the hell up. It was easier said than done. I wheezed as I pulled air into shocked lungs and tried to move. That's when I felt the fingers on my leg. They crept up under my jeans and touched my calf, circles of ice on my bare skin. They moved soothingly, stroking my leg as they sucked the warmth from it. Sawney. Only Sawney drained the heat from you like that. I growled, low and incoherent, in the back of my throat and tried harder to move my arm, more specifically my hand holding the gun. Oxygen-starved, I didn't have much luck.

"Cal?"

It was from above. Niko. He'd managed to avoid falling with me. Good for him. I wasn't surprised, but I was a little relieved.

"Cal?" This time it came from beside me, along with the crunch of boots landing on the debris of shattered tile. There was light, a hand on my face, and then the silver sweep of a sword. The frozen touch on my calf disappeared just as the claws had begun to puncture the skin. That trademark crazy laugh went with them.

I let my arm relax. A futile tremor was all I'd gotten out of it anyway. In the flashlight's glow I could see the Eagle resting in the dirt, my white finger lax on the trigger. I also saw Niko's boots move closer, and then, as I looked upward and he simultaneously knelt, I saw his face. He was pissed as hell. "Sawney." He ran a quick hand over my arms, legs and spine. "I am going to enjoy killing him far more than I should."

I'd gotten a few breaths in and coughed out, "You…and … me … both."

With his help I managed a sitting position. I looked up in time to see Promise and Robin jumping down. It was about ten feet down from the tunnel floor, and they managed it with ease. Certainly more ease than I had. Promise seemed to float down while Robin came down quickly and lightly, a hand bracing his ribs. I knew how he felt. I hung my head and concentrated on breathing. Drowning, falling—I was getting tired of not breathing. "More tunnels?" I asked, shifting my shoulders against a blooming all-over ache.

"New tunnels with the tile replaced and fixed into place over them. Sawney must have had the revenants dig them," Niko said. Hands slid under my arms and hefted me to my feet. "An effective trap."