A Darkness Strange and Lovely (Something Strange and Deadly #2)(98)

torchlight. But I could not spare a moment for relief. For the grating sound of the Hungry Dead had reached the tunnel too. The sound echoed, and at every bend in the passage, I expected to see a fresh army of corpses. But forward was the only way to go—one foot in front of the other—so forward we went.

Abruptly, the tunnel veered into a white archway, and before I could even process, we had run onto a tightly winding staircase with steep steps and no space. We were rising back up to the city. Though where we might come out, I had no idea.

Oliver rocketed up and out of sight. But I was tired. I could not seem to draw in enough breath, and my legs—they were as weak as pudding. I pumped all I could into each step, but . . . the stairs, and so much spinning . . .

“Don’t stop!” Daniel roared. He shoved me against the rounded wall, skittering in front, and then his hand was crushing mine. He wrenched me up the stairs. “Come on, Empress!”

Electricity flared behind me, thundering over the skeletal feet. How was Joseph still going? How could he battle so many Hungry and for so long?

I should help, I thought vaguely, instinctively pulling in the dregs of my magic.

And with the magic came a fresh spurt of energy. I straightened, pulled free from Daniel, and let

Joseph catch up. His bloodied head rounded the stairs. “Go!”

“Duck!” I threw out my hands and screamed, “Sleep!” The power lashed out like a whip . . . but I only connected with a single corpse—not even the closest.

Joseph heaved into me, forcing me up the stairs. “Run!”

“But I can help.”

“They are too close. Just run!”

So I did, because Joseph was right. The Hungry were so close, I could hear individual toes clattering on the stairs. Hear their fingers scraping the walls. They were just around the spiral, almost on us . . . almost on us. . . .

Then Oliver’s voice burst through the stairwell: “You’re at the top! Run!”

And that was all Joseph and I needed. With a final burst of power, we flew up the steps—two, three at a time—around and around . . . and then we tumbled through a doorway and into a dark cellar.

A heavy door slammed shut behind us. I fell to my knees, breath scalding my lungs and my bladder burning. I needed to vomit. Needed to catch my breath . . . but there was no time. Blinking, I lifted my head and tried to gauge where we were. . . . The tunnels had led us to a random entrance in someone’s wine cellar—Oliver had been right about the honeycomb of quarries.

Nearby, the demon held on to a wooden shelf, his head hanging and chest heaving. Beside him stood Daniel, a pulse pistol aimed at—

Bang!

I jerked around. The door shook dangerously, while the rasp of bone on bone vibrated through the stone floor. Joseph, who was somehow still on his feet, had his crystal clamp in hand and his eyes locked on the door. The hole where his ear had been still oozed blood, but most of it had crusted and scabbed down the side of his head.

Another dangerous slam against the door, and this time the wood groaned.

Oliver stalked to me. “Let’s go!” He yanked me to my feet. “That door’s going to break.”

“He’s right.” Daniel said. “We’re out of time.”

“I cannot leave.” Joseph’s voice was weak, but his words were fierce. “If we go, this door will break, and these Hungry will overrun the city. I cannot let that happen.” He turned to us. “You all must leave while there’s still time.”

“Hell if I’m leavin’.” Daniel spat on the floor and, fingers flying, began to reload each of his pistols. “I can fire four shots, then you attack.”

Hinges squealed, filling the room with their high-pitched keening. The door was coming free.

“I’m staying too,” I said hoarsely. “But I cannot stop more than one corpse at a time—”

“And you’re exhausted,” Oliver cut in, glaring at Joseph. “There’s no way the four of us can stop all those Hungry.”

“I can.” Joseph fixed his gaze on me. “I can magnify your power. Remember the library in

Philadelphia? I stopped Marcus because I used your magic. We can do that again.”

I nodded slowly. “Will it be enough?”

“I do not know, but I must try.” His jaw clenched, and a fresh trail of blood slid down his neck. If

Joseph could still fight, then so could I.

“I’ll squeeze the crystal clamp, then.” I hurried to him and took the gleaming device from his hand. Wrapping my fingers around the clamp, I shot a glance at Oliver. “You could also magnify—”

“No.”

“Please.” I had to yell to be heard over the pummeling corpses.

“No.” Oliver’s eyes thinned to slits. “I can fight the Dead on my own.”

“Please.” I grabbed his hands. “We can stop these Hungry—”

“Yes, we can. You use your magic, and I use mine. I will not let that electricity touch me. We can fight these Dead without it. Or, better yet, we can leave before that damned door breaks!”

“I will not leave! Joseph can lay all the Dead to rest—at once—so if you—”

“No!”

A hinge broke free and pinged across the cellar.

“You will help me,” I shrieked. “Squeeze the clamp, Oliver. Sum veritas.”