“What’s that?” I asked.
“Alarm,” Vlad said.
“At a guess,” Clive added, “the werewolves are trying to break in.”
Awesome. I looked through Cadmael’s eyes as he walked back to an office and watched the security monitors.
“The pack is circling the building,” I said.
“How do you know?” Vlad asked.
“Cadmael’s watching the security monitors,” I replied.
“Sam,” Clive said sharply.
Patting Clive’s shoulder, I said, “He already knows there’s something up with me and I trust him.”
“Thank you,” Vlad said. “And, yes, my guess is you’re a necromancer. My mother was a wicche too. You needn’t worry. I’m no threat to your mate.”
“I’ll take that as a promise,” Clive said, his voice hard.
“Take it anyway you wish,” Vlad said. “It’s your wife I like. You, I don’t much care about.”
I was only sort of listening to them. My focus was on the monitors Cadmael was watching. The wolves looked to be attaching things to the building.
Cadmael relaxed, thinking the time had finally come.
“Uh, guys?” I said. “We appear to have a suicidal ancient vampire and a pack of wolves planting explosives all around this building.”
I felt Clive rush back up the stairs and I unleashed my claws, digging them into the wall to slow him down. “Stop. We’re not done here. Go back down.”
“I’m not risking your life for whatever is down there,” he said.
Holding tight to the prince’s prison, I opened my eyes and climbed down off his back. “Enough,” I said, stomping back down the stairs, turning on the flashlight again. “It’s here. I know it is. We have to find the way in.”
“Damn it, Sam,” Clive growled, following me back to the tub room.
“I’m supposed to do this. I know it.” I waved him away. “You guys go check out the other rooms down here. See if you can find a way into the prince’s dungeon. I’m searching in here.”
Cursing, Clive flew out of the room to check the rest. I didn’t see Vlad, so I assumed he was doing the same.
“Léna! How do I get to her.” I went to the back wall where I’d heard sloshing sounds and ran my fingers over the moldy, spongy wall. “I swear,” I muttered, “if I get sick from mold poisoning because you wouldn’t help me, I’m going to be really pissed off.”
I remembered that she was easier to see in the dark, so I turned off the flashlight and waited for her to appear. There! In the far right corner, she hovered behind a thick water pipe.
The pipe was only a few inches from the wall and corroded in too many places. Léna pointed to a spot high up on the wall behind the pipe, waving me closer.
Oh, sure. No problem. I gripped the axe hard and then tried to shimmy up a rotting pipe, pulling myself up off the floor, hoping like hell the pipe could carry my weight. I squeezed my running shoes on either side of the pipe and pushed myself farther up.
When my head was close to the high ceiling, I stopped climbing, wedging my feet between the pipe and wall. I had to hold the pipe with my right hand, meaning I had to swing the axe with my nondominant left hand. I was hanging on by a thread and was sure I’d end up hitting myself with the damn axe.
My left leg started to shake. I was not taking it easy on that poor leg. I tried my best to get my torso out of the way and swung the axe. The hit was pitiful and only served to dislodge a section of wet, moldy wall material. My bad leg throbbed but I reached back to hit the spot Léna had indicated again.
“What are you doing?” Clive demanded.
Thirty-One
Ringing Faerie
