Chase the Dark (Steel & Stone Book 1)

  Piper stared after them, trying not to panic. Calder had gone from one enemy to another, and she feared this one would be even more of a challenge to escape.

  Another explosion ripped the air and made the ceiling above creak alarmingly. Piper ran.

  . . .

  How hard could it be to find a food cellar in a basement? Piper ran down her third hall, opening every door she passed. It had only been a few minutes but it felt like a dangerously long time. The confrontation upstairs was turning into an all-out battle. Random explosions of power interrupted the sounds of gunfire. She prayed no one started a fire.

  Something heavy and alive landed on her head.

  She screamed and ducked. An angry chitter erupted above her and sharp claws caught her shoulder. Zwi chattered nonstop in admonishment. Piper gasped through the adrenaline rush.

  The dragonet finally quieted, gave Piper a meaningful look, then jumped to the floor and ran a few steps back the way Piper had come. The creature stopped and growled over her shoulder.

  “This way?” she asked. “This way to Ash?”

  Zwi made a bird-like squawk and dashed away. Piper charged after the dragonet. When she reached an intersection with three halls and a stairway heading up, Zwi ran down the one hallway Piper had yet to try—of course.

  “Piper!”

  She jerked to a stop at the base of the stairs. Her mother half fell down the stairs. Her hair was falling out of its bun, her eyes wild. A trickle of blood ran down the side of her face.

  “Piper!” She grabbed Piper’s arm. “There you are. Thank God you’re safe. We have to get out.” She looked around wildly. “We’re under attack. Those daemons in the woods must have caught wind of the approaching prefects and thought this was their last chance to snatch the Sahar.” She tugged hard on Piper. “Come on. This way.”

  She broke her mother’s grip and stepped back fast. “No. I have to get Ash and Lyre out first. I won’t abandon them.”

  “Piper, they’re daemons,” Mona exclaimed. “They can take care of themselves.”

  “Not with those collars you put on them. Where’s the cellar? I’m going to get them out.”

  “There’s no time! We have to go now.”

  “No, I won’t—”

  Mona snapped a hand out. Piper gasped as magic slammed into her, locking her arms to her sides. The force lifted her into the air until she was hanging six inches above the floor. She struggled pointlessly, her feet kicking at air.

  “I’m sorry, Piper, but I won’t let you risk yourself. You don’t understand the danger. This morning we rigged the whole building to explode after we leave. I told you we couldn’t leave any evidence behind. If the fight triggers the explosives, everyone in here will die.”

  “Let me go,” Piper screamed. “I won’t leave them!”

  “I don’t care about them,” Mona snapped. “I care about you. This is just the beginning. I need you with me where you’ll be safe. We’re leaving.” She gestured again. The spell wrapped around Piper pulled her forward, hovering her down the hall toward her mother.

  A flash of dark wings. Zwi landed on the floor between Piper and Mona, her mane standing on end all the way down her spine. She bared her teeth and snarled like an angry cat. Mona lifted a hand toward the little creature, magic sparking in the air around her. A cry of denial leaped to Piper’s lips. Mona started to cast—

  Black light exploded around Zwi. The concussion blasted Piper backward, shattering Mona’s spell. She hit the floor on her back. Gasping for air, she sat up.

  Zwi stood exactly where she’d been, but instead of a cat-sized dragonet, a full-sized dragon crouched in the hallway. She was the size of a pony. Her half-furled wings made her look even larger. She opened massive jaws wide and roared. The brutal sound made the air quiver and Piper’s blood run cold.

  Mona staggered back, craning to see Piper around the dragon filling the hall between them. “Piper, please.”

  She shook her head, aching inside. Zwi snarled.

  Mona’s face went whiter. She licked her lips. “Baby, don’t do this. Come with me. I’m begging you.”

  “I—I can’t,” she choked. “I’m sorry, Mom.”

  Mona cast one last despairing look at Piper, then turned and ran. She vanished around a corner. Piper’s heart slammed against her ribs, aching with old wounds and new ones. Once again, her mother had left her.

  Zwi turned, her wings scraping the walls. Piper froze where she sat, trying not to hyperventilate. Those teeth were really, really big. A snarling lion would have been less frightening. The dragon arched her back, blinking slowly, and gave her head a sharp shake. Black light swirled out, then withdrew, shrinking the dragon with it. The haze of magic faded and the cat-sized dragonet stood in the dragon’s place.

  “Wow,” Piper breathed. “Did not know dragonets could do that.”

  Zwi fluffed her mane proudly. Piper staggered to her feet, flinching as something upstairs exploded. Shrapnel peppered the floor above. Zwi jumped up and perched on Piper’s shoulder. She pointed her nose commandingly down the hall. Piper broke into a fast jog.

  The cellar was a brick-walled room with shelves of old food preserves and an ancient, heavy worktable in the middle. Piper stood in the doorway, trying to figure out where Lyre and Ash were supposed to be. The room was small and clearly empty. The black ultrasound speaker sat in the middle of the table. Had Ash and Lyre already escaped?

  Zwi sprang off her shoulder and ran across the room. She darted under the table and started scratching frantically at the floor.

  “Zwi?” came a muffled voice.

  “Lyre?” Piper exclaimed. She ran across the room and crawled under the table. A wooden trapdoor in the floor was bolted shut with a padlock.

  “Piper? Piper, turn it off,” Lyre yelled, the edge of panic in his voice audible even through the trapdoor. “Turn off the damn speaker!”

  She tried to leap to her feet and slammed her head into the tabletop. She rolled out, grabbed the speaker, and hurled it at the floor. It bounced, bits of plastic flying off. Was it still working? She yanked a knife from the sheath in her boot and slashed the cloth front of the speaker, then drove the blade into the middle of it. Electricity shocked her hand, making her whole forearm burn before going numb. She jerked the knife out again.

  “Has it stopped?” she yelled. “Is Ash okay?”

  “I think he’s coming around. Can you get us out?”

  She crawled back to the trapdoor. The padlock key was easy to find on her key ring. She heaved the trapdoor open and peered into a dark pit. Zwi appeared out of nowhere and dove into the pitch darkness without hesitation.

  “Lyre?”

  His face, pale among the shadows, appeared ten feet down. “Piper. Thank the Moirai. What the hell is going on?”

  “I ditched the Gaians and came to get you out. A band of daemons is attacking the house. There’s a huge fight going on and the prefects will be here any minute.”

  “Shit. Can you help me get Ash up? He’s in rough shape.”

  “They told me they wouldn’t hurt you,” she whispered, furious. She backed out from under the table, grabbed the flashlight she’d spotted earlier on a shelf, and returned to the trapdoor. A rickety ladder that looked a hundred years old led into what she assumed was a cold room under the floor. She swung her legs down to feel for the ladder steps. Climbing into the pit of darkness was nerve-wracking. She felt for each step carefully before angling down for the next. The ladder creaked and shifted with her weight.

  Halfway down, she put her weight on a rung—and it broke. She shrieked as she dropped, her boot slamming into the next rung. The ancient, rotted wood broke in two. She fell feet-first through the darkness, rungs shattering as she hit them, until she slammed into hard-packed dirt. She crumpled, gasping in pain.

  “Are you okay?”

  Hands grabbed her shoulders, pushing her into a sitting position. Breathing hard, she managed a nod before realizing Lyre probably couldn’t s
ee it. With the table above the trapdoor opening, almost no light made it down the shaft.

  “Shit,” she panted. “How will we get out?”

  Light erupted as Lyre found the flashlight she’d dropped and flicked it on. The tiny space had mostly caved in at some point in the distant past. Wet slime covered the ancient stone bricks that made up the far wall. The floor was nothing but gritty dirt piled halfway up the walls, leaving only a dozen square feet of space with a ceiling so low Lyre’s head brushed it even in a crouch. The nearer wall was a slanted pile of loose dirt and rubble from the cave-in.

  Ash was slumped in the far corner, eyes closed. His chest rose and fell with each fast breath. Moisture glistened on his face and he was frighteningly pale. He didn’t react to the sudden bloom of light. Zwi sat in his lap, her eyes shining eerily.

  Lyre looked no worse for wear as he aimed the flashlight beam at the broken ladder. “Damn. I can probably get up if I jump for that last rung, assuming it doesn’t break too. But . . .” He glanced at Ash and lowered his voice. “I don’t think Ash is up to leaping for ladders.”

  Piper glanced at him again. The draconian didn’t look like he could even stand. Damn the paranoid Gaians for leaving that bloody speaker going. She couldn’t even imagine what Ash had endured while she’d been having heart-to-hearts with long-lost parents and chatting up mysterious daemon prisoners.

  “Maybe there’s a rope or something up there?” she suggested. “We could pull him up.”

  “Good idea. We don’t have much time. I’ll look, you stay here. Try to keep Ash calm, but don’t get too close to him.”

  “Too close?”

  Lyre leaned toward her, harsh shadows from the flashlight making him look dangerous. “You know he doesn’t like closed-in spaces. Add that to the pain from that damn ultrasound and the collar blocking his magic—let’s just say he’s not fit for company right now.”

  Piper inhaled sharply in understanding. Ash was one breath away from shading in the worst way.

  “In fact,” he continued, frowning, “maybe you’d better come up with me.”

  “No time,” she told him. “Get a move on!”

  He nodded and passed her the flashlight. With a mighty leap, he grabbed the bottom rung of the broken, hanging ladder. Using strength Piper didn’t have, he pulled himself up with his arms until he reached the top. Zwi sprang past Piper and ran up the side of the shaft like a big spider to follow Lyre out. It was too bad her larger form was too big to be helpful in the tiny cellar.

  Then Piper was sitting alone in the small, dark hole with Ash. Swallowing hard, she faced the prone draconian.

  “Ash? Are you awake?”

  He grimaced in answer.

  “How do you feel?”

  His chest rose and fell. Slowly, his eyes opened. Piper sucked in a sharp breath as black irises slid over her. Ash wasn’t on the verge of shading. He was already there.

  Before his eyes closed again, she recognized the bright sharpness of suppressed panic tightening his gaze. He hated enclosed spaces and this hole in the ground was about the worst scenario possible. Even Piper, who’d never considered herself claustrophobic, felt nervous and twitchy.

  She watched Ash’s arms, wrapped around his middle, flex as he silently fought to stay in control. She remembered his steady calm in the boiler room when that spider had sent her into a panic. His strength had grounded her, kept her from losing her head completely.

  Exhaling slowly, she came up onto her knees.

  “Ash? I’m coming over to you, okay?” He didn’t react but at least he was warned. Surprising a shaded daemon was asking to be attacked.

  She crawled the short distance to his side. Watching him carefully, she sat beside him, shifted over until her side was against his, and wiggled her fingers into the crook of his elbow. Feeling her touch, he relaxed his muscles enough that she could slide her arm through his and hold it to her. She laid her head on his shoulder and took a slow, deep breath. What she was doing was incredibly stupid; Ash had shaded. His logic was being ruled by instinct. Combine that with his panic of enclosed spaces and he was as stable as a fault line. One wrong move and he could lash out, wounding or even killing her.

  But they needed him calm to get him out. If she could coax him back from the brink, the more likely they’d be able to get the hell out of the building.

  “I’ll stay with you,” she whispered, hugging his arm. “I won’t leave you alone.”

  He didn’t say anything but she felt him relax a little. The sounds of the fight upstairs were muffled, almost surreal. She concentrated on keeping her own muscles tension-free, idly rubbing his arm with one hand. Two minutes, then three, then four dragged by. What was taking Lyre so long?

  Ash let out a long sigh. His head tipped back to rest on the wall behind him. Piper smiled, hoping she was helping him. She thought about the Stone in her pocket and pictured his blank expression as he’d dropped it into her palm on the Styx’s rooftop. Stolen but returned. A betrayal versus . . . what?

  She started violently as the biggest blast yet shook the house. Ash jerked upright as dirt rained on their heads. Piper gripped his arm hard. Shudders ran through the ground beneath them. Jars of food crashed to the floor in the cellar.

  As the shockwave passed, there was a moment of utter, deadening silence.

  Everything exploded.

  She was blasted back against the wall. Pain burst through her body. Her eardrums shattered from the pressure. The sound was beyond comprehension. The world quaked, heaving like ocean waves.

  The ceiling above collapsed on them, and Piper knew she was dead.

  CHAPTER 14

  GRADUALLY, she became aware of Ash’s harsh breathing above her. Her ears were ringing. Her body ached. Aside from Ash, the silence was absolute. Nothing. Complete nothing.

  She opened her eyes. Impenetrable darkness. She was alive, wasn’t she? She remembered the roof coming down, dirt and stone collapsing in on them as their little square of underground space popped like a bubble. The sound had been incredible—and terrifying. The last thing she distinctly recalled was Ash shoving her down in the last instant before certain death.

  He was still there, on top of her, shielding her. His face was pressed against the side of her neck, his breath hot against her skin as he panted. The world was still and silent as though the terrible rending of earth and stone had never happened.

  She lay for a moment more, feeling spacey and disconnected. She was . . . alive. That was good. And possibly unhurt, though she ached so badly it was hard to tell. Ash was uncomfortably heavy. He was taking some of his weight but not enough.

  It took three swallows to get enough moisture to make a sound. “Ash?” she whispered.

  His head shifted a little, pressing his face harder into the side of her neck. He was still breathing too fast.

  “Are you hurt?”

  He didn’t answer. Her foggy brain struggled for focus as she listened to the utter silence. Fear stabbed her.

  She flexed her fingers—dirt beneath her nails. She pulled her arms from under Ash and reached out. Her fingers hit walls of rocky dirt on either side. Terror made her heart pound. She flung her hands upward.

  Her fingers hit dirt with painful force. She pressed her palms against the solid earth, not even able to extend her arms.

  No. God no.

  She twisted, reaching over her head. There was loose dirt piled against a tumble of rocks inches above her head. She’d come a hand’s width from having her head crushed by falling stone. She almost wished she had.

  Ash panted. A tremor ran through him, his arms quivering on either side of her. He already knew.

  They were buried alive.

  They were buried in a tiny, coffin-sized bubble, surrounded on all sides by collapsed earth. The entire house could have caved in. The magnitude of the detonation was beyond magic—it must have been the explosives her mom had warned her about. Had Mona or another Gaian set off the blast or had the magic trigg
ered it?

  Did it matter? Panic pounded through her.

  “Ash!” She pressed her hands into the dirt ceiling, gasping as much as him. How much air was in their tiny hole? How long did they have? “Ash, can you get us out? Ash?” His name came out on a sob.

  A low growl, rising from deep in his chest, made her freeze. With escalating terror, she brought a hand down to touch his upper arm.

  Her fingers didn’t meet skin. Instead, they found a cool, leathery texture. With shaking fingers, she traced one of the armor-like scales that plated his arms. She remembered vividly the sight of his arm, those wide black scales and long claws, from her one glimpse of him without glamour. Those claws were now hooked in the bottom hem of her shirt.

  Ash had abandoned his glamour—and she knew why. He was frightened of enclosed, underground spaces. They were trapped in his absolute worst nightmare. He had shaded. Fully, uncontrollably shaded. He could crush her with his impossible strength or rip out her throat before he could stop himself if she made a wrong move. But considering her current chances of survival, it didn’t make much difference. It might hurt more though.

  “Ash,” she whispered. Wet tears trickled down the sides of her face into her hair. “Ash, please.”

  Another tremor shook him. He suddenly pushed up. His back hit the top of the earth coffin with a thud. Dirt peppered her face. Rough sounds on either side confused her until she remembered his wings. They were scraping the sides of the hole. A sound between a snarl and a whimper escaped him.

  “Ash,” she gasped. Not stopping to think, she hooked her hands around the back of his neck. She yanked him down, pulling his face to her chest. He slumped, shaking and gasping for air. She combed her fingers into his hair, tracing the braid on the side of his head as she fought to control her terror. If she couldn’t, there was no way Ash could.

  “Shh,” she whispered. “Close your eyes and concentrate on breathing.” She inhaled and exhaled shakily, demonstrating. “Calm. Please, Ash.”

  In the back of her mind, part of her tallied the precious oxygen they were consuming with each panicked breath.