“Wendigos!” I gasped. Hundreds of them. My bladder loosened, my muscles quaking.
Thorne spun me away, walking me out of the room. “The Dark One has rebuilt his army.”
I gaped at him. “They were merely standing there like brainless statues.”
Drazen’s ruddy expression paled. “They await his orders. He’s preparing for war.”
“That’s why they’ve been hitting the villages,” Thorne added. “Feeding their hatchlings.”
“There’s another large space nearby,” Kronk’s deep voice snapped with urgency. “Let us investigate quickly, then leave.”
“Agreed,” Drazen said, and we set off.
Minutes later, Kronk held up his fist. We froze as he peeked into an opening, then beckoned us forward. One by one, we slipped in behind him, crystals raised to cut the dark.
The chamber was smaller than the last. Dozens of iron-barred cells were carved into the stone walls. The foul stench of unwashed bodies mixed with decay hit my nose, and I drew the fabric of my sleeve over my nose.
Keening noises rang out, along with the telltalescritch, scritch, scritchthat made my knees wobble. The cages were occupied.
“Monster or man?” I whispered.
“Both, I suspect,” Thorne said, entering the long corridor. “We’ll have to check each one.”
Together, we crept down the central walkway, rows of iron bars flanking us. In the first cage, a cluster of four ghouls knelt around a fallen body. Wet, chewing noises rang out. Bile rose in my throat, and I gagged, turning away.
“The bastards are eating each other,” Drazen spat. “Flarking savages.”
The next cell contained a trio. Two males, one female. Eyes vacant, they stared at one another, drool running down their chins. At the sight of us, one of the males charged the bars, thrusting his arm out.
“Help me,” he groaned, the whites of his eyes shot through with black veins.
I glanced at Thorne, who shook his head. While not fully infected, this man was too far gone. We were too late. Was it also too late for Speck?
Cell after cell was the same. Each held captives twisted past saving. Not a one remained mortal. I was torn between praying we found Speck and hoping he wasn’t here.
“Serafina,” A guttural voice made me spin. Behind the bars, a familiar face stared back. She was one of the few from Gravestone that I’d called a friend.
“Rose,” I rushed forward, reaching for her outstretched hand.
“Sera, no!” Thorne yanked me against his chest, and the former maid belted out a keening wail.
“You,” she snarled, slamming her head into the bars.
“Rose, stop. You’re injuring yourself.”
“You.” Her forehead slammed against the metal, skin splitting. Black blood oozed from the wound.
Tears blurred my vision. “Oh, Rose. Not you too.”
“Come,” Kronk urged. “There is one more.”
We followed him to the last cell. One look at the expression on his face, and I dared not breathe. Only one captive occupied this space.
In the corner of his cage, he hunched protectively over the object he held. Wet, gnawing sounds filled the silence. Wrapped around his ankle was a filthy splint.
“Speck,” I called out, voice wavering.
Slowly, he turned. A headless rat dangled from his fist, its innards glistening where his teeth had torn them. My stomach twisted violently. He lifted his head. Instead of the honey brown eyes that used to greet me with joy, a pair of soulless black orbs took my measure. His lips drew back in a snarl.
