Chapter 13

"And so the intrepid heroes walk boldly into the enemy's lair and are promptly captured, tortured and killed."

"If you want to be pessimistic," Marcus whispered testily, "you can go back and keep watch."

"Not a chance." After failing to convince each other to stay behind, we both stepped through the illusion and onto a spiraling stair, taking the smooth stone steps winding around earthen walls deeper and deeper underground. Oddly, dim light continued to show my eyes the way, though a human would have been blind; I figured it was a spell since I couldn't find a tangible source.

At what I judged to be about fifty feet down, Marcus waved his hand, telling me silently to back up.

"What is it?" I breathed, hoping we weren't already caught.

"Light, up ahead where the stairs end." His tone was impassive, not worried, which reassured me.

"I don't hear anything." My ears, now mobile and atop my head, swiveled. "Not up or down." He nodded his agreement and didn't stop me as I edged around him and down a few stairs until I could perceive the faint glow ahead. After a moment of careful observation, I smiled. "Candles," I told him. "Smells like bee's wax and soy."

Sure enough, the stairs let out onto a corridor, the theme of stone floor and bare earth walls continuing with niches every couple of feet that held thick, flickering candles to light the way.

"I feel like I'm in a bad B movie," I muttered as Marcus led the way. "All that's missing are the lame traps and the brainless muscle guarding the thick wooden door."

"Keep your sense pealed; just because this is clichéd doesn't mean it won't work." Despite his own words, he walked sure-footed and calmly, almost carelessly, down the corridor, looking like he had every right to be there. I snorted and followed.

The floor sloped down at an easy angle as we walked, the tunnel continuing to run ruler-straight for about three hundred feet before splitting off to the left and right.

Sharing a "Now what?" look, we followed first the left and then the right-hand paths, finding the typical thick, wooden dungeon doors at both ends. Scent was useless, the smoking candles and earth doing much to eliminate all but the most basic of traceable smells that told us only that people regularly traversed this underground place. The almost dirt-free floor told us the same thing. Trying to get a sense of direction through my diminished link was less than useless.

For lack of any better ideas, I tugged Marcus back to the right, vowing to plant a microchip in Talon's ass when we got out so this wouldn't happen again.

The door lay around a gentle curve, just barely hiding it from someone standing at the intersection and putting it in shadow. Surprised at the smooth wood that met my questing hand, I felt all along its length and edges, expecting spells, enchantments, curses. Nothing but steel plates to reinforce the hinges and a ring to pull it shut - no lock, even. At least, none that I could find.

Seconds that felt like hours slipped away as Marcus, too, went over it and I tried to control my urge to just throw open the door; he might find something I missed.

With a shrug, he motioned for me to Shift, taking Talon's leather jacket and the belt that held the daggers since they couldn't make the shift with me like my jumpsuit.

Between one breath and the next, I went from a standing human to a crouching panther, muscles rippling as I stretched and yawned hugely. It never hurt and took no time at all, unlike Werewolves. My hearing, eyesight and smell all increasing beyond anything a human could ever possess.

And still I didn't pick up anything.

"Stay close," Marcus urged, "and stay focused. We're no good to him captured or dead." With one strong hand, he pushed the huge door open on silent hinges.