Sandman (Ceasefire #6) - Claire Marta Page 0,47

trying to figure out how we activated the process as it hasn’t happened since.”

“Into one person? If that’s possible, why doesn’t that hold? I mean you said you were originally one God…”

“To hazard a guess and I’m no expert, I’d say that’s no longer feasible for them to be one being permanently.” Gabriel reaches for two long metal batons before swirling them expertly in his hands with deadly accuracy. “Individual personalities have set. They’ve become separate entities, even though by the sound of it, they share a symbiotic relationship. I’m actually surprised they managed to reform into one entity at all for a limited amount of time.”

My uncle checks over his revolver before stowing it in its holster at his hip. “Are we standing around sharing our feelings or saving that girly of yours?”

“We’re going to have to leave without them,” the angel informs me, handing his subordinate a sheathed knife. “We’re wasting precious time. I’m sure you’re not completely useless without them, pick a weapon.”

“Fine.” Lifting the nearest gun into the air, I examine the Glock with mild interest.

“You know how to use that?”

Stretching out my arm, I aim toward the doorway in demonstration. “I’ve played enough video games to figure shit like this out. It will be a piece of cake. Pull the trigger and try not to miss.”

“Please tell me he’s joking,” Snatch moans, wrapping his long arms around his waist in anxiety, the knife sheath still clutched in his hand.

Thanatos chuckles a dry, raspy sound. “He’s been a recluse for centuries, you tell me.”

“Just stand behind him when he tries to use it so you don’t get shot,” Gabriel advises.

Rolling my eyes in annoyance at their obvious humor, I touch Snatch’s shoulder concentrating on Robin’s last location letting the pull between us guide me. Sensing her fear has a mixture of emotions hitting me right in the chest. A need to protect, defend.

The intersection of long, grey, bleak corridors, we materialize in stretches in three ways. Cells run the length of each. There’s a foul odor, like a stagnant pond but with the undercurrent of something else. Something rotting. My limbs instinctively tense at the chilling silence. It’s so devoid of noise that our breathing sounds loud. Gabriel and Thanatos materialize a heartbeat later. As if they sense the atmosphere of disquiet, they immediately become alert.

“How are we playing this?” Snatch whispers.

“In and out before anyone notices suits me just fine.”

“Let’s split up to cover more ground,” my uncle suggests, stepping stealthy to the right, hand resting on the top of his holster.

Stuffing the gun into the waistband of my jeans, I make sure to be careful not to shoot off my nuts. “Great idea. I’ll go left, and you can go fuck yourself.”

“Boy,” he counters in a warning tone, his steely eyes flashing threateningly.

“This is your fault,” I growl in return hating the fact he’s done nothing but lie. The second I no longer need him, I’ll be cutting him loose. I’m over my so-called family.

“All I’ve done is protect you. It’s time to grow up and take responsibility. Act like an adult.”

“I’ll go with Morpheus,” Gabriel butts in with impatience. “Standing here arguing is only going to get us caught.”

Not bothering to see if he follows, I head left. The corridor snakes along strip lighting at certain intervals providing light and casting ominous shadows. Our footsteps echo in the stillness. With no windows or exits, there’s no way to know exactly where we are. Underground. Some inner gut feeling has me certain of it.

Gabriel stalks up beside me checking empty cell after empty cell. “I don’t like this. It feels like a trap.”

He’s right; it does. Every cell in my body is warning of danger, yet I’m ignoring it with the overpowering need to find Robin. I pause beside the next set of bars taking in the constricted compartment behind them. The gouges in the grey chipped walls made by fingernails. Dark blood stains marking the places people have tried to claw their way free. No doubt slowly going mad with the passing of time in the process. Dread coils through my stomach at the thought of my woman trapped down here.

“Morpheus.”

The sound of Gabriel’s grave tone has me joining him a few cells down. There laying on a threadbare cot is a woman. A corpse by her pale, ghostly skin. Eyes closed; she’d been posed as if sleeping. Delicate arms crossed over her chest, she’s dressed in a silken, crimson negligee that reveals