. 08

~~Damien~~

As the night went on, two things were becoming painfully clear. First, that the hunters were either not in the tunnel, or hiding terribly well. Second, that working with Fiona was extremely distracting.

It wasn't that Fiona was too juvenile to focus, or too bubbly to... not bubble around everywhere, but rather Damien's own mind not being able to concentrate. She was too attractive. Ever since that date, where they'd both enjoyed a meal together, it'd become impossible to ignore how beautiful she was.

He'd heard girls liked it when the man swoops in, sweeps her off her feet. Maybe he should swoop? Course, he didn't know the first thing about swooping, and that made the whole prospect terrifying. But, despite a lack of skill, a girl could only smile at you so many times before it was clear she was looking for you to make a move on her. Fiona smiled at everyone, but whenever she met his eyes, she made sure to smile extra hard. When smiles didn't work, she put her hands behind her, together, and pushed her chest out a bit, while also pushing her arms together, so her biceps pressed her breasts together.

The moment they were topside, he was going to ask for that second date. They'd hunt together, fill their bellies, and maybe, just maybe, he might stop being so scared of her, and do what she seemed to be asking for. Kiss her? Kissing was a good first step.

This must have been how Jack felt, when he met Antoinette in Bloodlust. The kid had shared with him the tense combination of terror and arousal he'd felt, when she drew him into her web. She'd used her seductive mastery, and her giant breasts, to seduce the poor boy. And Fiona, to Damien's best estimate, was trying to do the same thing, except she didn't have the centuries of experience to go with her efforts. In this weird dance, Damien was the older, more experienced one. Except, he was older, less experienced.

For now, he did his best to return her smile, and at his most bold, looked at her shapely breasts and how her jacket squeezed on them, when he knew she'd notice him doing so. In return, she offered a small blush on her freckled skin, and nudged her shoulder into his side. Flirting successful? Flirting successful.

"How long have we been down here?" Vicky said.

Damien shrugged. "Four hours."

"That is a long time. Perhaps we should take the search elsewhere?"

Matt shook his head. "These tunnels are huge, and I'd prefer we do a proper sweep of them before we move on. If they've been down here within the past few days, I'll smell them."

Powerful nose on that werewolf.

"Assuming," Parker added, "that they don't have some way of covering their scent. And they are hunters after all."

"Hunters don't usually hunt werewolves." Shrugging, Matt stopped at a fork in the tunnel, and took a long whiff. "Vampires spread. Werewolves are chosen by Luna. Our numbers never warrant hunters hunting us, not the way they hunt vampires. And, we don't feed on humans; usually. It's rare for hunters to devote themselves to hunting our kind."

Parker raised a brow. "Your point?"

"My point is that I'd be surprised if these hunters knew tricks for dealing with werewolves, beyond the obvious like silver."

"What other tricks are there?" Vicky said.

The giant laughed, nodded toward one of the tunnels, and started walking. "Like I'm telling you. I saw how much silver you guys had."

The three vampires nodded. A little skepticism and distrust was a healthy thing. And, despite Matt being a werewolf, he was plenty kind and sharing with the vampires as was. Asking him to spill over their secrets was a bit much.

"We've covered a lot of the tunnels," Matt said. "A couple more nights, and we can safely say they aren't down here."

"Yay!" Fiona said, throwing her hands up and bouncing in place a few times.

The big guy shook his head. "Fighting down here would be a good thing. No humans around to stop us from letting loose, and they can't surround us. And maybe—" Matt slammed into the air in front of him like a sleepwalker walking into a wall. Crunch. Broken nose, assuredly. He stepped back, groaning loudly, and held his nose in his hands. "What the fuck!"

Matthew didn't swear often. Damien almost laughed, until he realized the man hadn't walked into a wall. He had indeed walked into air, and the air had blocked his path. Everyone froze when the realization sank in.

"Um... w-what?" Fiona said. She bounced over to where Matt was, checked the big guy, before she reached out against where Matt had been hurt. Her hand hit air.

"A barrier?" Damien joined her, and reached out. Indeed, a barrier. It had the texture of still air, which was barely a texture at all. It confused his brain, touching it, having it press back against his fingers, but it did push back, same as any wall. Soon, everyone was up to the barrier, touching it, pushing against it. Strong as steel.

Matt snorted, and another, quieter crunch sound marked the manual fixing of his nose. He'd heal in no time. With a snort and ka-splat sound of blood leaving his nostrils and hitting the tunnel floor, the werewolf walked up to the barrier as well, and pressed on it.

"If they're behind this," the werewolf said, "then I'd be able to smell them. I don't."

With a quiet snarl, Damien got down onto a knee, and reached down. In the darkness and flickering lights, it was hard to see much, but he managed to spot some strange, black soot, a powder, drawn across the tunnel path from wall to wall.

"What's that?" Fiona said.

"I... have no idea."

All of them looked down at the soot. And Matt, of course, reached out to touch it. Mistake. He howled pain, and jumped back, clutching his hand and shaking it as if it were on fire. It wasn't, but the noises the man made suggested otherwise.

"Ye awright?" Fiona said, joining him.

"Ouch! Wow, that burns."

Frowning, Damien took in a breath, and blew on the black powder. It didn't move. He tried again, but still it didn't move. Soon, all five of them were doing the same thing, blowing on the strange black soot and trying to move it. No one managed.

This was ridiculous. With a snarl, Damien withdrew his sword, and tried to strike the powder. But the invisible barrier stopped him, blocking the sword from doing anything more than skimming the edge of the powder.

And that was, apparently, another mistake. As Damien put his sword away, a glowing amber started to make its appearance; from underneath them. The five of them stared down as lines started to draw themselves, as if a ghost was painting with glowing amber, encircling them. It didn't take a genius to recognize being inside an amber circle self-drawing onto the floor was a bad thing.

"Go!" He grabbed Fiona, and threw her. She squealed like a squirrel as she flew through the air, and groaned when she face-planted against another invisible barrier. Oh shit.

Whining, she struggled to stand up until Matt helped her. "Tae fuck!? Damien ye wank stain!"

"Sorry, sorry." Wincing, he walked over to her and offered his best apologetic smile, before he reached out and pressed against the new barrier. This one had a shape, a contour, a curve. It was following the curve of the amber circle that now surrounded the group of them. Shit. "I was too slow."

"It's awright, ye silly dobber." Sighing and rubbing her forehead, she pat him on his side, and nudged her shoulder against him. "We... we uh... set off a trap?"

"Apparently." He glanced back to Vicky and Parker. Predictably, they were standing with arms at the ready, but weren't getting involved. Passive, frustratingly so. They were the sort of vampires to sit back, wait for something to happen, and then react. Their reactions would be effective and intelligent, but until that happened, Damien had to assume they were borderline useless.

Matt, growling and groaning, pressed his hands up against the invisible barrier. Wherever he touched, the amber circle that surrounded them glowed brighter underneath the point of contact.

"We're trapped," Vicky said.

Parker nodded. "Indubitably."

Good grief.

They had a decent amount of room to move around in. The circle was almost as wide as the tunnel itself, leaving Damien with more than enough space to start circling the trap. There wasn't any black powder on the circle or its edges, but with how the amber glowed, he could see some small inconsistencies, as if someone painted it with a paintbrush.

It was a new trap, one the hunters hadn't used yet. The hunters were far more experienced than any warning tale could have prepared him for, using new tricks at every encounter, and never repeating the same one. Frustrating.

"Anyone have any idea what this is?" Damien said. Everyone shook their heads, as he expected. "It appears to be some kind of... supernatural trap."

"It blocked your sword," Matt said. "And it seemed to block the air from further down the tunnel."

Damien nodded. "The black soot stuff did. But..." He stuck his sword out. It crossed over the amber circle without issue. "This strange circle appears to be less strict."

"The first barrier," a voice called from the tunnel darkness, "is a proper physical barrier, magical, created with that black soot you noticed. The second is a classic entrapment circle for paranormal scum, like yourself."

Oh no.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~Natasha~~

They were getting lucky. Very lucky. Too lucky? Maybe. It was perfectly reasonable that the hunters assumed the Kindred wouldn't be able to track this path, considering how convoluted it was. Figure out who was sacrificed, figure out they came from Devil's Corner, have a Kindred in the know about what kine might know something, get lucky that they knew where those who were sacrificed hung out, get lucky with the last kine at that location, and that they saw their vehicle. Convoluted, but not an impossible trail, and there was no doubt the hunters wouldn't leave the trail intact forever. They'd eventually move, or cover their tracks, so the five vampires had to do this quickly, tonight.

It was getting exhausting, keeping her fellow Kindred wrapped in the Cloak of Night along with her. Obfuscate could be used in so many ways, but a full Cloak of Night on herself and four others, to the point the five of them were completely invisible? That was draining. She had to concentrate, and that meant she couldn't devote much attention to looking for hunters or clues. She had to trust the witches.

In normal situations, a less aggressive Cloak of Night, A Face in the Crowd, would be the better choice, saving on vitae while also preventing anyone from noticing the Kindred, as long as other people were around. Not being recognized wasn't good enough for this situation.

It was an abandoned home, as far as she could tell. Everything was worn down, covered in dust, needed repair or painting, and from the smell, no one was living here. A perfect place for hunters to squat. She pulled out her pistol and kept it in her good hand, and held her small sword in her off hand, as she followed the other Kindred around the home. There was another odor here too; more than just an empty house.

First, they checked upstairs. A small bathroom and three small bedrooms. Nothing. Next they checked the living room and kitchen, but they'd already passed through them, and a second glance found nothing. That left the basement, which they'd all assumed would be the place, but it never hurt to be thorough. And, as they approached the basement, the unidentified odor grew.

Othello pointed down at the floor by the basement door. The dust and dirt was disturbed, tracing an outline of how the door would open, if someone had opened it. Jackpot.

Triss nodded to the large man, and with locked eyes, Othello slid the door open. Darkness awaited, except not as dark as the building's main floors. Light had a habit of doing that, of creating gentle illumination with no source, when it was bouncing around walls. And if there was a gentle, subtle illumination in the basement, that meant someone had a light turned on somewhere down there. Or light was coming in through some basement window, a street light maybe.

No, it wasn't a street light. It had an amber hue, like fire. Maybe someone was having a party? No, there wasn't any noise. And the sliver of light that reached the basement was so small, Tash was sure it was bouncing through other hallways to reach the basement they peered into. Maybe someone was running some sort of drug operation, and had another basement built, connected? Maybe. But there was something about the place, something heavy, and quiet, like liquid shadow you could drown in. She felt it, her partners felt it, and that was enough reason to assume the worst.

Othello went first, with Triss behind him, then Aaron, then Natasha, then Jennifer. The only one who bothered with weapons were Natasha and Jennifer. In the Invictus, everyone used weapons to some extent or another, but the witches were all comfortable killing with their bare hands; except Jen, who was young, and a Ventrue besides. The only weapon she had was a knife though, hidden on her belt underneath the open shirt. Not a good choice for a Ventrue, but better than nothing.

The basement was predictable, as far as basements went. No windows, concrete walls with no effort to make them pretty, damp cracks caught reflections of the scattered, subtle amber light, and Tash was sure she caught a glimpse of a centipede creeping along. She managed a small grin at that. When she was human, a centipede would have been enough to get her screaming. Now? Kindred and predators had a strange connection, even insect predators. But a centipede wasn't a rat or a crow or a coyote. If Aaron or Jen could use it to see what was ahead, neither of them tried. So, they continued along, into the basement room.

It was empty. Very empty. Too empty. Tash expected maybe some old boxes, or a ruined couch, or some wood palettes or crates, or something, anything. But, no, the basement was completely empty, except for a bookcase. The amber light was coming from behind it, faint against where the wood met the concrete. Beatrice and Aaron wasted no time, each taking an end of it, lifting, and moving it aside.

Another tunnel, and it seemed to go down. That didn't make sense from any blueprint for a building in Dolareido, not in Devil's Corner, but it was the source of the amber light.

The vampires moved closer. Upon closer inspection, it seemed like the hole was manually dug into the wall, as if someone had sliced it open and then got to digging. But that sort of work was loud, and it would have filled the basement up with a mess of dirt. Maybe that's why it was devoid of any objects? Someone may have done just that, and cleaned it up. Well, whatever the methodology they used, it didn't change that there was a hole in the wall tall enough for them to walk into, and there was a gentle amber glow coming from within.

They followed the same formation, Othello ahead with Triss by him, then Aaron, while Tash and Jen stuck to the rear. And as they followed the curving tunnel, everyone was deadly quiet. No one fake breathed. No one landed on their heel. No one stood straight, crouching instead. Everyone let a bit of their animal instinct to the surface, the part of them that knew how to stick to shadows, move silently, and listen intently.

There was quiet murmuring in the deep, from beyond the twisting, curving tunnel. Tash raised her lip in a hidden sneer, and looked around at the dirt that surrounded them. Someone was down here, in this homemade tunnel? This wasn't a safe tunnel. Without support beams and going deeper, the ceiling of this tunnel was liable to—become soft, and warm, and wet?

Everyone froze as the walls were no longer dirt, but flesh. Flesh. There was no getting around it, no other way for her mind to think of it, no trick of the eye or fancy painting on the walls. It was flesh. She touched it, and sure enough, bits of blood coated her fingertips. Muscle and skin, sinew, tendons, and even some bones lined the walls, curved, unnatural. It was all unnatural, but the bones that lined it weren't from any creature. It was the tunnel's bones, complete with a spinal cord above, and ribs all around.

It was like they were inside a snake, except even a snake's guts didn't look like this, with the bones poking out showing through, with skin taut against them, connecting to their sides, and with slivers of pulsating muscle between bits of torn skin. And it was pulsating, like a heart might. A giant, slow, steady heart.

She'd heard you could walk into a blue whale's heart, that it was big enough to move around in. How fucked up and big a creature would it need to be for this monstrosity?

They continued to creep forward, and Tash poured every ounce of effort she had into keeping them invisible. A very loud thought kept pulsing, that they should turn around and leave, or maybe one of them should. And, maybe, they really should do just that. But they'd discovered a golden opportunity, and might need every one of them there to keep them alive.

Just a little deeper, just enough to get some sort of knowledge about what was going on, and they could turn around and report back. Running away and reporting back a 'flesh tunnel' wasn't really enough information to act on. And, if they left, there was a very real chance the tunnel wouldn't exist the next night. They needed to learn something valuable, anything.

Tash wasn't so stupid as to not have measures in place for something like this. Before entering the tunnel, she ran the 'Unexpected Encounter' app on her phone. It'd ping the Prince, and tell her where Tash was. If worse came to worse, someone would eventually show up and investigate. Maybe they'd be coming to scoop up some vampire ashes, but at least someone would come.

It was like a horror movie script. Anyone with a brain would just turn around, and leave before they traveled any deeper into what was obviously a dangerous situation. But they couldn't. They needed to learn something, and splitting up was too dangerous. It was infuriating, being forced to pick between two stupid decisions, and Tash ground her teeth until her ears hurt. It may have been a witch's tactic, to do everything on the fly, or off the cuff, but the Invictus and Dragon in her very much wanted to pull out a notepad and start creating a proper plan.

Predictably, the witches showed no sign of stopping. They knew the risks, had calculated it no doubt, but, like her, knew the best option was to press on, and learn more.

The murmuring got louder. It wasn't English, and it wasn't being said by one person. It didn't sound like it was being said by people at all. It was deep and rolling, with a resonance and vibration quality that reminded Tash of throat singing monks. Flesh was a good absorber of sound, and shouldn't have echoed or resonated with the odd voices, but it did, and it became terribly obvious as the vampires got closer, that the murmuring was some sort of chant.

Louder, and louder. Everyone crouched low, until eventually people were using their fingertips against the floor to move as silent as possible. The floor was flesh, and ribs, and shallow blood. She was tempted to taste it; what vampire wouldn't be? But, no, better to not taste the blood that dripped from the walls and pooled on the tunnel path of alien muscle and skin. Vampires were immune to disease and poison, but that probably didn't apply to magical or alien things.

Tash bit her lip, and stared on as the tunnel grew larger, widened, and eventually opened up into a room. Room wasn't a strong enough word. Chamber? Whatever it was, it was massive, and it was inhuman. A hundred feet wide, but a hundred feet tall as well. The ribs were gone, and instead, giant pillars of bone lined the walls of the more square room, compared to the round tunnel they'd emerged from. The source of the amber light was clear now. Dangling amber crystals attached to ropes hung from the flesh ceiling, and they glowed.