Spider’s breath wafted cold against her cheek. “I remember what you taste like.” His tongue, long and rough as a cat’s, brushed her mouth and she shuddered.
Then he was gone. Wavering on her feet, she called the light again in time to see him scurrying up the rock, nimble as his namesake. He returned a moment later carrying Ciaran.
“Don’t worry,” he said as he deposited the minstrel. “That’s nearly the hardest part.”
The light flickered treacherously across the floor, but couldn’t touch the walls or ceiling. No matter how softly Isyllt stepped, the scuff of boot-soles on stone carried through the wide empty space. Sweat chilled beneath her jacket.
Ciaran took her arm again as they followed the vampire, making a show of helping her over the uneven ground. “Why did I come with you, again?”
“Because you love me. And because I’m going to pay you.”
“As long as I had a good reason.” His fingers tightened on her sleeve, warm through the leather.
The sloping cavern floor ended at wide stone doors. Skulls embedded in white rock grinned madly in the capering light. Human and otherwise, some so foreign Isyllt had no idea what their original owners might have looked like. The gates of the vampires’ ossuary palace, through which very few mortals had ever returned alive.
Spider turned. “Douse your light, little witch. Some of my brethren have more delicate eyes than I.”
She swallowed and felt Ciaran’s tension through his fingers. The opalescent light died and darkness rushed over them, so thick she could taste it. The door opened with a soft scrape and dank air gusted out, fragrant with stone and the snake-musky sweetness of the vrykoloi. Like walking into an animal’s den, but so much worse; goose pimples stung her skin.
Spider’s long fingers claimed her right hand and glove leather slipped against sweat-greased flesh. “Follow me.”
Death breathed over her as they walked, whispered in her head; her ring spat diamond sparks. Ghostlights glimmered in the darkness, pinpoints of blue and green. Not enough to see by, but they gave her an idea of the great size of the chamber. The floor was slick underfoot now, smooth as polished flagstones. Water dripped in the distance, a slow plink into a pool that scattered echoes through the black.
They weren’t alone. Isyllt felt eyes on them, felt whispering voices too faint to hear. Surrounded. Ciaran held her crippled hand tight enough to ache, and her right was trapped in Spider’s. She wouldn’t reach her knife in time if they were attacked. Sweat trickled down her back, soaking her linen camisole. Her heart beat strong and fast in her throat.
Isyllt smiled, baring her teeth to the dark. Somewhere in the shadows, laughter answered.
Spider paused for a moment, squeezing her hand when she drew breath to speak. Then he turned. “Lady Tenebris will see you, but your friend waits here.”
Isyllt’s left hand tightened awkwardly on Ciaran’s. “Don’t worry, little witch,” the vampire said, amusement coloring his voice. “You’re our guests here. Perhaps the bard will sing for us—we seldom host musicians.”
“Far be it from me to refuse an audience,” Ciaran said. His voice was calm, despite his trembling hands. “I’d be honored.”
Isyllt brushed his arm in reassurance before Spider’s hand closed on her elbow and pulled her forward again.
He led her down a flight of shallow steps. The air grew closer around her, dust tickling her nose. The smell of snakes and old blood grew stronger and she fought a sneeze. Her shoulder brushed a doorway as he steered her to the right and she felt the closeness of walls.
“There’s a chair in front of you,” he said. “The Lady will join you soon.”
Isyllt moved carefully forward until her knees bumped stone. A bench, strewn with pillows of threadbare velvet and soft-worn brocade. The stone leeched warmth from her flesh as she sat. She tugged off her right glove, shaking her hand dry. Her breath was harsh and loud in the stillness.
An icy draft heralded the vrykola’s arrival, a presence that made the hair on Isyllt’s nape prickle. She rose and bowed low, grateful not to stumble or crack her head on anything.
Tenebris’s laugh crawled over her skin, cold and slick as oil. “You sit so bravely in the dark.” A match crackled and orange-gold light blossomed, brilliant enough to make Isyllt’s eyes water. A candle flame quickened and acrid blue smoke coiled through the air. “Is that better?”
“Yes, Lady. Thank you.” Isyllt blinked back moisture and reached for the chain around her neck.