“There’s a rope,” Nick said, bending to inspect the offending object. “I think she put it here.”
I didn’t like the way he used the pronoun “she” instead of Haver’s name. It made Maeve Haver sound like some kind of witch, like something supernatural was at work instead of just an average girl with an average family from an average place.
Nick and I stepped over the rope on our way down and I waited while Anton struggled to his feet, swearing in Russian every step of the way.
“You good?” It was the closest I’d get to asking if Anton was okay. It wasn’t my job to make sure Anton was okay.
He took a few halting steps forward, testing out his bad leg. “Yes.”
His limp was more pronounced now, although it was hard to say whether his fall down the stairs had made it worse or whether it had always been this bad. Beyond his work, I didn’t usually pay much attention to Anton.
That would have defeated the purpose of having Anton.
We came to a set of branching tunnels.
“Do you know where these lead?” I asked Anton. I’d put him on the job of scoping out the tunnels as a place to keep Maeve Haver. I had no idea what was down here.
He shook his head. “No time.”
I tamped down my annoyance. In Anton’s younger days, he would have scoped out every inch of the tunnels before we set Maeve loose in them. But he was old and getting sloppy, more worried about his bad leg than doing the job right.
A glance at Nick did nothing for my confidence. The kid looked like he was about to shit himself.
I needed to recruit when this was over.
“Let’s split up.” I tipped my head at the first set of secondary tunnels. “You two go that way. I’ll take the main tunnel.”
“You sure, boss?” Anton’s Russian accent was thicker when he was hurt.
I was already moving away from them. “I’m sure.”
We had all the time in the world. No one was coming to save Maeve Haver, least of all herself.
14
MAEVE
The dungeon tunnelwasn’t as complex as the tunnels under Blackwell Falls, but it did eventually branch out.
At first I was hesitant to take one of the branching tunnels, scared of getting lost forever, which was stupid, because unless I found a way out of there, I was already lost forever.
Then I heard a thud and what sounded like a curse word echoing off the stone behind me.
I froze. Had Todd or Anton or Mr. Skinny tripped over the rope I’d strung across the stairs leading to the lower tunnel complex?
The noise was followed by the distant rumble of conversation, and then I knew they weren’t far behind, and nothing else mattered but getting as far away from them as possible.
I took one of the branching tunnels and almost fell over a stack of rotting wooden boxes. My wounded hand burned as I caught myself on the slimy wall, and I tried not to think about all the infections just waiting to invade my body.
I couldn’t afford to worry about what might happen next week. I had bigger problems right now.
There was more detritus in this tunnel, more bottles and wooden crates. There were cells like my prison room too, complete with chains hanging from the ceiling and crude, rusted objects that looked like instruments of torture.
There were even a couple of stone rooms with creaky wooden doors, and I wondered if they were offices, if someone had worked here. I tried to imagine some guy coming to work in historical Romania, a warden overseeing the prisoners in the dungeon like he was an accountant or a cashier just reporting for another day’s work.
Weird.
I picked up one of the instruments I found lying on the floor, a rusted metal rod that had been crudely hammered into a point on one end, and added it to my collection of weapons by sliding it into the pocket of my tracksuit next to the sharpened stone.
