Blackbird Broken (The Witch King's Crown #2) - Keri Arthur Page 0,104

immediate area; there was neither a magical nor physical alarm. And yet trepidation was spiking. I stepped down and studied the long corridor. It had three doors off it—the one directly in front of me led into a small living area, while the one down the far end went into a kitchen. The other belonged to whatever had been built under the stairs.

I motioned toward it. “Whatever I’m sensing, it’s coming from that.”

“Do you want to make sure the rest of the house is clear? I’ll investigate the cupboard.”

I nodded and went into the living area. The small room was immaculately tidy, holding a small sofa and armchair, an electric heater, and a large TV perched on a cabinet stacked with Blu-rays. Double glass sliding doors at the rear of the room divided this room from the dining room. I went through. The kitchen lay to the right of the dining table. Behind it was a small bathroom.

I retreated back to the hall. “Found anything?”

“Yes,” she said. “And not what I’d expected at all.”

I walked over. Lightning flickered down Nex’s side, and trepidation switched to fear. “What is it?”

“A staircase.”

“Into a cellar, I take it?”

She glanced at me. “Yes, but there’s something far worse down there than that.”

“It’s not another fucking hecatomb, is it?”

“No, it’s even worse.”

“I didn’t know anything could be worse.”

“Of course there can be; a hecatomb—while gruesome—is little more than an information exchange point. It hasn’t the capacity in and of itself to alter the fabric of the world in any way.”

My gaze returned to the stairs disappearing into darkness. I really didn’t want to go down there, but I wasn’t about to let Mo venture on alone, especially if what lay in wait was worse than a hecatomb.

“And that’s what we’re dealing with here?” I asked.

“Unfortunately, yes,” she replied heavily, “because what lies down there somewhere is a goddamn dark altar.”

Chapter Fourteen

Confusion stirred through the fear. “But they’re not usually associated with Darkside.”

“Darkside has witches working with them, remember.”

How could I forget, when Max was one of them? I pushed away the ache of betrayal and pain; there was nothing I could do about him right now, and it was far better to concentrate on the problem in the cellar than worry about the confrontation that was coming.

The rising air smelled of earth and dampness, but as I drew in a deeper breath, I caught something else—energy. It was sharp and crisp, reminding me a little of the electric scent that came before the onset of a storm. I suddenly understood why she’d claimed this was far more dangerous than a hecatomb.

“They’ve tapped the altar into the ley line.”

“Yes, and we need to detach it before it’s forever stained. I think it best if—”

“Forget it. You’re not going down there alone.”

“Gwen, it is the sensible thing—”

“And how do you work that out?” I cut in. “You can’t protect yourself when you’re spelling, and this may well be a trap.”

“I doubt it. They wouldn’t risk an altar in order to trap and kill us. We’re not worth that much to them.”

“If we weren’t worth much, they wouldn’t be trying to kill us all the goddamn time,” I said. “Why don’t you contact Barney and let him know what we’re doing. I’ll go down and check out the cellar. Wait up here until I give the all clear.”

A smile touched her lips, and her eyes shone. My gaze narrowed. “What?”

“Nothing. Go.” She touched the two-way. “Barney? You there?”

I gave her an annoyed look but nevertheless headed down, one hand on the old brick wall and the other holding Nex out in front of me. Despite her light, the darkness closed in, deep and thick. The smell of dampness grew stronger, but the caress of energy remained distant. That suggested the dark altar wasn’t directly under this house.

I paused on the bottom step and held Nex higher. Her light fanned out, revealing a small, bricked room no bigger than the kitchen above. The wall to my left was covered in a rusty assortment of hammers, screwdrivers, saws, and other bits and pieces. There were also at least a dozen dust-covered wine bottles lying on a rack directly ahead. At the other end of the cellar, an opening had been roughly cut into the wall. The tunnel beyond was narrow and dark, and the strength of the breeze flowing out of it suggested there was an external opening somewhere.

One thing there wasn’t here in the cellar was a dark altar,