“As locals fucking with us? I don’t care if you’re dying of Sudafed poisoning, Lei, I’m not putting that on TV.”
“Tad, please.”
“Zora.” That was Artemis.
“Stay. Quiet,” I hissed.
“No—Zora—Zora, look.”
Artemis’s hand found my shoulder and pushed me around. The room was quiet, yawning. On the opposite side of the wooden bridge was an impenetrable, gaping blackness, a hole in the world I knew well.
An entrance.
A hunched shape sat on the bridge. Even the night visioncouldn’t make out the details, but it hadn’t been there before because before I’d been able to see where the bridge connected with the rock. The shape moved. A limb slid out, a set of talons that scratched on the wood. It rose, unfurling, and lifted its head.
I looked up from the camera. A dark shape stood on the bridge, silhouetted by a soft red glow, like the corrupted ghosts. The dark shape had eyes. The eyes were red pinpricks.
“You’re kidding,” I said.
A blast of hot air whipped my hair back. The shape darted forward. Artemis grabbed me at the same time I grabbed her. A blaze of fire lit the room.Fire.Every fiber of my body jolted. I choked down a scream and yanked Artemis forward.
The tunnel entrance reappeared. I took Artemis by her collar and her belt and threw her up the short ledge before I scrambled up after her. A hot touch grazed my calf. The scream came out.
Then we were up and running, back the way we’d come, and the ghosts had fled, and my twisted ankle felt like a spike had been driven through it, and our flashlights and the backpack were gone but there were lights up ahead. We stumbled into a cross tunnel. Another blast of heat from behind. I looked back only once. There were the two red pricks of light, unblinking, chasing us. Burning, real, one hundred percentgodforsaken evil eyes.
We turned another corner and hit something solid, tumbling again to the tunnel floor. Someone cursed. Limbs tangled. A flashlight blinked on and off. A hand grabbed my wrist, then my hair, then my neck. Artemis squeaked.
“Stop moving! Who the hell are you?”
A light burned into my eyes. “Get off! Get—off—”
“Mike, get over here! It’s the two who were screwing with us!”
Tad Thompson had pinned me to the ground with his knees on my arms and his hand on my sternum. Artemis was rolling beside me, wheezing. Her camera was still on, several feet away. Mike scooped it up.
“They’ve been recording,” he said.
“Take the memory card. I don’t want them putting it up online.”
“No!” Artemis struggled to her knees. Tad grabbed her ponytail and yanked her back down.
Tad grinned at her, at me. “Hey, it’s ice cream goth and boring history girl. Thought you’d have some fun ruining our shoot?” The heel of his hand dug into my chest. “I wouldn’t want to spoil it for you. Let’s call the police and keep the party going.”
I twisted my head to look past Tad, down the tunnel. There were no red eyes, no hot air. The firestarter was gone, as if it had never been. Sweat began to cool on my forehead. Someone was calling the police, the sound echoing back tous. Even with the alarms going off in my head—how royally screwed we were, especially me—I felt a rush of relief that the dark shape and its fire had disappeared.
“Hey, Tad,” I grunted.
He looked down at me. “What?”
“I’m not goth, moron,” I spat at him. “I’m grungeat best.”
Then I jabbed my prosthetics into his eyes.
11
Ididn’t poke Tad’s eyes out. Unfortunately.
TheDead Men Walkingcrew pulled us out of the mine and dropped us by their van while we waited for Chief Rivera to arrive. They had Artemis’s backpack, our flashlights, and the SD card from Artemis’s camera, which Tad quickly stuffed into an equipment bag filled with other SD cards and tossed into their SUV. Eric guarded us while Tad, Mike, and Leila stood on the other side of the clearing, arguing.
