“Where did you get this information?” Hyas asked.
“My spy,” you said, surprising everyone, including me. Your friendship with Stefan made a lot more sense to me now. Lucian’s expression was pensive, no doubt putting two and two together.
“Who’s your spy?” Hyas asked.
“If I told you, they’d be of little use to me.”
There was a long, measured silence where Hyas and Aretha only stared at you, until at last, Aretha shook her head. “Assuming your source is a reliable one, what did they tell you we’d find in the catacombs?”
“They didn’t say, but they told me to go there. Lucian knows the way. And I wanted the two of you to come with us because I’m not sure what we’re going to find.”
“A lot of bones,” Lucian offered. That much was certain.
“Give us a minute to dress,” Aretha said.
While the twins readied themselves, Lucian turned to you. “That’s why Stefan’s been spending so much time in the baths. And here I thought he was an exhibitionist.”
“I wouldn’t rule it out,” I said. If I had to listen to one more sweaty beastborn pontificate on the virtues of Stefan’s physique…
“We need to get into the catacombs unnoticed,” you said to Lucian. “Is there a place where our mother might have hidden something?”
Lucian breathed out a sigh. “That could be anywhere. How big are we talking?”
“I don’t know. My source wasn’t very specific.”
“I’ll admit, I’m a little perturbed he didn’t tell me about this,” Lucian said, obsessed as ever with his frigid pet. “Did he not think he could confide in me?” He looked like he was about to say more when the twins returned in full battle gear, as did Anika from Aretha’s room. I greeted her with a discreet nod and nothing more.
“We’ve alerted our soldiers where we’re going and who we’re with, just in case something goes wrong,” Aretha said. Clearly, she thought we were leading her into a trap. I would have thought the same.
“That’s good,” you said, oblivious to her intimation. “They might need to dig us out as well.”
That didn’t sit well with me. I hated being underground, always had, and as I reflected upon it now, Lena’s catacombs were probably the source of my initial trauma. She’d dragged Lucian and I down there too many times, always with some morbid history lesson or a demonstration in monstrosity.
Lucian led us to a nondescript shed which housed old wine casks and other outdated instruments for fermentation. He yanked away a pile of wooden crates to reveal a hatch leading underground, then lifted it with a shuddering creak.
“Ladies first.” Lucian motioned to Aretha who shot him a thankless look but climbed down the graded dirt tunnel, sword drawn and at the ready. Anika came next, angling herself to keep watch on her mistress’s back. Hyas followed, then you and me, and finally Lucian bringing up the rear. As we descended, the air grew chillier, and the odor of mildew and damp crept in. Lucian had brought a torch, which he lit before moving to the front of our small party. The walls were mostly earth reinforced by wooden beams. Empty wine bottles littered the pathway. No bones, though. Not yet.
“I think she’s been using her rooms to access them,” you said, then shot a guilty glance at the twins. “My mother, I mean.”
Lucian nodded. “She has several chambers just under her rooms. She used to bring her conquests underground in case they made noise. Also, for the mess.”
You blanched at that, surely realizing that they seldom returned.
Lucian turned again and we were headed back toward the palace. Here the passageway grew wider, now with cobblestone beneath our feet, marking the ruins of an ancient city. It was one of the reasons Lena chose this location for her palace, because the infrastructure for a massive underground labyrinth was already in place. While we walked, Lucian gave some background about Etruscan custom, likely just to have some idle conversation to fill the grim silence.
At last we reached the catacombs, cell-like rooms lining a central corridor, formerly used to house the sarcophagi of the Etruscan elite. There were torch sconces bolted to the stone walls so that the area could be lit for more formal occasions. Human sacrifice had been a tacit part of bloodborn ceremony. Lucian wisely didn’t mention it, though evidence of those rituals was everywhere.
“Holy crap,” you said, catching sight of one of the rooms. There weren’t walls, so much as there were piles of bones—femurs, fibulas, ribs... all stacked meticulously atop one another like the world’s most macabre skeletal sculpture. And we’d not yet reached the worst of it.
“What is all that?” You pointed to where the cobblestones were stained black, the blood caked so thick in some places that it had cracked like paint and looked almost petrified.
“What does it look like?” I asked, not caring to detail our bloodborn rituals in front of our present company. The other tribes weren’t very sympathetic to our need to consume human blood, and while Lena’s ceremonies were excessive, there was a time when we all showed far less restraint.
“This way,” Lucian said.
I knew where this corridor led, and I approached it with a mounting dread. The spiritual energy was dense with misery. We crossed the threshold, and I reached for your hand, hoping to brace you for what you were about to behold. Here was the hall of souls, the nexus of corridors representing the four cardinal directions. With the exception of one wall reserved for instruments of bodily torture, the room was comprised of stone shelves stacked floor-to-ceiling with human skulls.
“Henri,” you said, trembling. “How was she able to get away with this for so long?”
