She did so. Her flames revealed the room was twice the size I’d imagined. The roof soared high above me, snaked with metal lines and some sort of conveyer system. Several small offices sat on the right-hand side of the building, and the concrete was stained with rust lines and grime, reminders of machines that had once stood here. To the left, there was that large square of wooden flooring Jak and I had fallen through the first time. Obviously, whoever had made that trap had repaired it after we’d left.
“Why would they set the trap over only one door?” My voice echoed in the cavernous room and something seemed to stir in the shadows down the far end. Or maybe that was simply imagination and fear.
The stairs are closest to the middle door, so most of those who use them would logically choose that door. Azriel’s voice held a hint of amusement. Why do you ask the question out loud rather than in your thoughts?
“Because I don’t feel so alone.” Which was stupid, because I was.
Not, Amaya grumbled. Am here.
Yeah, but it’s not quite the same hanging on to you as it is Azriel.
Her static filled the far reaches of my mind. I might not understand it, but I was pretty sure she was swearing at me. I ignored her and stepped forward, every muscle tense, ready to jump should the concrete show the slightest inclination to drop out from underneath me. When it didn’t, I took another step. The crawling sensation of magic grew no worse or better. I bit my lip and walked on, moving past the wooden flooring that concealed a trap and into the warehouse proper. Though I scanned high and low, I couldn’t see anything that suggested this place had been recently used in any way.
I checked out the offices to the right, but didn’t find anything more than rubbish – although in the last one there was a large rat’s nest. It had been made with shredded paper, odd strips of material and wiring, and what creepily looked like human hair. Hair that was dark and long.
I wondered if it had come from someone who’d stumbled into the pit and, unlike us, hadn’t been able to escape.
I shivered, but let the rats be and continued on. I was about halfway down when I felt it.
Not magic, but something else. Air stirred the hairs on the back of my neck, cool and almost otherworldly, sending goose bumps skittering across my skin. I stopped, my grip tightening on Amaya.
There was nothing here. Nothing but shadows in the far reaches of the building where Amaya’s flames did not reach.
I glanced toward the street. Several windows had been broken along this section, so it was logical that the air would stir. The wind might be light outside, but it was nevertheless there, and it wasn’t about to hurt me. I scanned those shadows again.
Still nothing.
“Azriel, has anything changed? Can you sense anything other than me and the rats in this place?”
No. But if you fear something, retreat. It is not worth the risk.
“I can’t retreat every time I feel threatened,” I muttered. “I’d never get anything fucking done.”
The trouble with that statement, he said, mental tone exasperated, is the fact you haven’t retreated. Not once.
“That’s an exaggeration. I have retreated, and you know it. I’m not that much of a fool.”
What sounded like a mental snort rolled down the line between us. I ignored him and continued on.
The air stirred again, this time whisking behind me, making the small hairs at the nape of my neck stand on end.
Something definitely was here.
I stopped again. Amaya, can you sense anything?
No foe, she said. No fair.
I half smiled, despite the tension running through me. She was obviously feeling a little put out. I mean, it had been hourssince she’d killed anything.
Funny not, she muttered.
My smile grew. I walked on, my gaze constantly scanning the walls and the floor, looking for some clue as to what might be here, and whether it was dangerous. I couldn’t see or sense anything untoward. Even the dark caress of magic began to fade as I moved farther from the pit trap, until it was little more than a faint buzz of wrongness that scratched at the far edges of my senses.
As I moved into the end third of the building, the filth and grime began to build. The sludge was thickest where machines had once stood, and it smelled to high heaven. I kept to the center, between the outline of the machines, but even so it was hard not to slip and slide.
Air whisked past me again, and for a moment it felt like someone was trying to grab at my fingers. The fleeting sensation left them tingling. I flexed them and frowned. What the hell was going on? Was it my imagination, or something more?
I stopped again. There really was nothing to see. Nothing but the dirt and the grime and a few rusted remnants of the machines that had once dominated this space. If there was an entrance into the caverns below, then it didn’t appear to be here. The floor looked solid – although given the thickness of the grime, it was certainly possible that there was something here and I just couldn’t see it.