gathering everything I needed for work and leaving the flashlight out where I could hold it in my mouth, I transformed.
Then, with the help of my stacked crates, I wiggled into the shaft and explored. While angled at a rather sharp incline, someone had built the ventilation shaft with using it as an escape route in mind; rough material was glued onto the metal to make it easier to climb. It didn’t creak or groan beneath my weight, which led me to believe it was either encased in concrete or was embedded in solid ground.
As I climbed higher, the breeze of fresh air intensified, and I became aware of the buzz of fans farther ahead. Until I transformed again, I wouldn’t be able to check my watch, but the vent’s length surprised me. Whatever fan blew the air in meant business, and someone maintained it; no dust littered the passage when it should have been choked with it.
I could only believe magic held responsibility for the vent’s cleanliness, but I couldn’t imagine how any of the Alley’s magic could keep something tidy and free of dust.
It felt like an eternity before the vent angled out and opened into a dark space beyond. Air gusted into my vent, and armed with my flashlight, I peered into the unknown.
Within some of the maintenance tunnels for Asylum, huge fans kept air circulating. One such fan was installed on the ceiling, sucking in filtered air from above into the tunnel. A honeycomb of vents, just like the one leading into my storm cellar, lined the walls. Most were barely large enough for a man to squeeze through if determined—or required to clean out the shafts.
Unlike other sections of the maintenance shafts, tiered levels led to the openings with steps reaching the ceiling.
How had my landlord gotten such a shaft? Why had the cellar been abandoned? Had it once been a part of Asylum’s initial building process? The next time I ventured through the shaft, I’d have to think of some way to measure the distance or guess based on where the maintenance tunnel emerged.
Finding my way out would be interesting, especially if the place was monitored properly. Some tunnels were. Some weren’t.
Learning the maintenance schedule for the area rose to the top of my to-do list. Until then, I’d have to take care, dodge people, and hope for the best. Hoping for the best rarely worked well, but sometimes, it was all I could do.
To make sure I could find the entrance that led to my cellar again, I counted vents from the end wall to the stairs leading to my vent, which was on the fifth level. I estimated there to be at least three hundred vents, which worked in my favor. Maybe someone might poke their nose into my business from the vent, but finding which tunnel was mine would take someone a lot of work—or blueprints of the area and knowledge of my new address.
All I could do was hope that the bounty hunters didn’t have access to the blueprints or checked the city records for leases.
Some risks were worth taking, and while I was worth a pretty penny, I’d gamble that none of them were high enough on the social ladder to have access to Asylum’s blueprints. Keeping a close eye on the exit to the tunnel—and other ways in—would cover my bases. Maybe.
I spent a few minutes considering my options, of which there were few.
Screw it. I couldn’t afford to just sit around and do nothing. I couldn’t afford to walk right into the welcoming arms of a bounty hunter, either, but it beat being a coward afraid of the dark. Now, if it were Sandro’s arms welcoming me, and we happened to be on neutral ground, he wouldn’t have to do a whole lot of talking to get me out of my clothes.
I needed to get some action sooner than later. I blamed the damned fox in me, as I’d spent all winter and the majority of spring slapping her perverted little nose so she wouldn’t get us into trouble.
If I let Sandro get us into trouble, she’d never let me live it down—and she might court trouble with him, as she had a possessive streak a mile wide and didn’t appreciate letting go of a man once she caught him. She took the pining for lost loves thing a little too far, which made it hard to date anyone with any expectation of having a good time