“I guess we’ll have to search the house?” I said.
“And smite wizards one by one?”
I cringed. “It’s not ideal—they could harm the oracle in the meantime.”
“Or use the oracle to figure out how to counteract us.” Considine picked up one of the moaning/addled wizards. “Where is the oracle?” He shouted.
The wizard dangled in his grasp and gave no understandable reply.
However. The sound of creaking door hinges drifted in from the hallway.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-SEVEN
Jade
Considine and I exchanged glances.
Considine dumped the wizard as I crept to the door. As I had with the kitchen, I crouched low, then ducked my head into the hallway.
It was empty, but the door tucked under the staircase stood open.
“A door opened,” I whispered. “I think the House did it.”
We slipped into the hallway, cautiously approaching the open door. It opened into a set of rickety, wooden stairs that descended into what looked like a stone cellar with a dim shaft of light at the bottom.
“Now that is inviting,” Considine said. “A spooky staircase that appears to descend into a crypt—how alluring! Sign me up for this expedition.”
The muffled stampede of feet crossed the ceiling above us, making one of the light fixtures shake—more wizards on the second floor. “We’re going to have company in a few seconds,”I said. “Do we trust the House, or try to face off with more wizards?”
Considine grumbled under his breath while I eyed the wizards we’d downed in the hallway.
They were starting to recover—which was going to be the main problem. We weren’t aiming to kill them, so while we could easily mow over a clutch of them, if they kept recovering eventually they’d be able to dogpile on us.
The stairs creaked alarmingly as some wizards started down the staircase.
“Fine. Into the dungeon.” Considine motioned for me to go in first.
I started down the stairs without hesitation, pausing only when Considine closed the door behind us, and I needed to give my eyes a moment to adjust to the abrupt dimness.
Considine set a hand on my shoulder, and I heard thumping in the hallway and muffled shouts.
We’ve got to keep moving.
I picked my way down the stairs, testing each step before I let it take my weight—I had no idea what we were walking into, but I was hoping stealth was still an option.
Considine leaned forward, crowding me so closely his lips brushed my ear. “I’m telling you, this is the stuff that monks from the middle ages drew into books to portray hell—I saw their illustrations firsthand.”
I thought I heard whistles, followed by muffled roars. It took me a moment to recognize the sound of TV—I think it was showing a sports match of some type based on the whistles.
“Can you hear any heartbeats?” I asked.
Considine rested his lips on my temple. “Two,” he said after a moment. “Can you sense any magic?”
I shook my head, cautiously scanning the basement when we emerged from a staircase.
It looked like a standard, unfinished basement. Cinderblock walls were responsible for the dank feeling Considine had criticized, and the floor was bare, smoothed cement.
