Jack found himself stunned by the sight. This thing—this Soul Eater—was more hideous than he could have imagined. Based on what he’d seen in Dwight’s lab, he had expected the queen to be larger than the other kiracs… but not this big. Its long, bony forelegs looked like gnarled tree branches, and its jagged shell was the size of a large dining room table, ringed with hundreds of spiked protrusions.
Jack reached for his shotgun and fired directly into the beast’s underside. It shrieked again—deafening at this close range. Jack pumped in another shell and fired once more. The Soul Eater lumbered backward, maneuvering its bulk with stilted, jerky movements.
Jack could sense great age in it. A twisted, hulking beast that had been stalking these tunnels perhaps for centuries. The creature swatted at Jack with its other foreleg, sending him tumbling across the rocks. He felt like he’d been hit by a truck.
He looked back to see Elina kick her feet free of the ropes and scramble against the wall of the pit. The giant kirac swiveled its massive body around, clicking its palps as if in search of new prey. Suddenly the beast turned, raised itself off the ground, and lumbered away from Elina. Then Jack saw its new target.
Nun’dahbi was dragging herself with one arm toward the far side of the pit. Her other arm hung limp at her side and both of her legs were contorted, with a bone jutting through the flesh of one calf. Still, she struggled furiously toward one of the side tunnels. Jack spotted the amulet still in her grasp.
But the Soul Eater stalked hard after her, raising its foreleg and impaling Nun’dahbi through the back. She let out a horrifying scream and flailed her arm as the beast quickly pulled her writhing body under its bulk and sank its fangs into her neck. Nun’dahbi’s cries were cut mercifully short as the Soul Eater sucked out what little life was left in her.
While the beast was occupied, Jack scrambled to his feet and rushed over to Elina. “Are you okay?” His voice was a hoarse whisper.
“I’m okay; I’m okay,” Elina whispered back. “How do we get out of here?”
For a moment Jack thought they might be able to use the rope to climb out, but they’d never get up fast enough and would only be an easier target. He shrugged, keeping an eye on the giant kirac. He was quickly running out of time and his thoughts were scattered. But he couldn’t let fear overwhelm him. This creature could probably smell fear from a mile away.
Just then the queen kirac lifted itself from its food and turned toward him.
Jack pulled Dwight to his feet and pointed toward one of the side passages. “Through there!”
Dwight nodded groggily as Jack pushed Elina down and into the tunnel first, then Dwight, and then…
Another high-pitched roar thundered through the chamber as the Soul Eater lumbered toward them.
Jack scooped up his gun and the bag of flares and dove into the dark tunnel, bashing his knees against the rocks as he scrambled forward. “Move, move!”
He turned to see the creature’s bulk blocking the entrance to the tunnel. Its mouth filled the hole with a tangle of twisted fangs, hissing and snapping in a blind fury. The confined passage was filled with another piercing screech.
Jack crawled on, fumbling through the bag for another flare. He found one and ignited it. The light revealed a rather tight space, barely two feet high and curving out of sight ahead and behind. He looked into Elina’s eyes and then Dwight’s.
Fear was painted on both of their faces like the marks on Elina’s skin. He could hear the beast still growling behind them, but they seemed out of reach and safe for the moment.
“What now?” Elina said.
Jack shook his head. “I don’t know. I guess we keep going. See where this leads.”
They continued on, following the narrow passage as it curved away from the sacrificial cavern. They crawled for several yards until it opened into a smaller chamber. Jack stood, thankful to at least be out of the cramped tunnel. As they ventured across the room, he could see that all over the floor were scattered curved, bony shells and fragments of appendages.
Then Elina pointed at something up ahead. “What is that?”
Jack held the flare out and spotted what looked like a large rock of some kind, an unnaturally rounded boulder nearly two feet in diameter. He stood, frozen. He had seen this before. He raised the light and could see more of the objects scattered around the chamber.
Elina leaned toward Jack and whispered, “What are those things?”
But Jack stood still. Too frightened to respond.
“Jack?” Dwight whispered. “What is it?”
“I think…” Jack’s throat was dry. “I think we’re in some kind of… nest.”
Chapter 43
George Wilcox sat in Thomas Vale’s spacious office, behind Thomas Vale’s burnished oak desk, in Thomas Vale’s exquisite leather chair, with a shotgun across his lap.
Malcolm Browne—Thomas Vale’s business manager—lay dead in the other room in front of Thomas Vale’s massive stone fireplace. Loraine Browne, along with the Huxleys and the Dunhams, had already left for the evening and had probably gone to bed some time ago. George would deal with them later. In fact, he probably wouldn’t need to do a thing.
But for the moment, all was quiet in Thomas Vale’s mansion. So George sat there in the darkened office, waiting for Vale to return.
He felt little emotion, numbed by Miriam’s death. Some part of him suspected he might soon join her, and that thought no longer filled him with apprehension. His wife had faced her end with courage. A courage born out of a faith that he now knew was more than empty religion. He would mourn for her when this was over. But for now he just needed to be patient.
He swiveled around and stared out the window into the night. The moon was nearly full and had already risen high into the night sky and lit up the whole countryside.
Shortly after midnight, the silence was broken by the sound of footsteps. George could hear them coming up the stairs. He listened closely. They were hurried and uneven. Someone was frightened and perhaps injured. And George could also hear the sound of labored breathing.
The footsteps reached the top and were now coming down the hall. George spun around to face the door. Moonlight streamed from behind him and lit the room with a dim but usable glow.
A silhouette appeared in the office doorway and stopped. George heard the breathing pause a moment and then resume.
Vale felt for the light switch and flipped it on. His shirt was drenched in blood, his face ashen with dark circles under his eyes. His hands were trembling, and he was sweating. Profusely. Yet he didn’t look at all surprised to see George there.
George nodded toward Vale’s bloodied shirt. “It looks like you ran into some trouble. It’s a good thing you’re immortal.”
Vale scowled and lurched into the side room where he stored the perilium. George listened carefully for the sound of his reaction when he saw the refrigerators. The mangled, empty refrigerators.
A full twenty seconds later, Thomas Vale emerged from the room, his eyes looking glazed and unfocused. He clutched one trembling hand in the other. “What do you want?”
George’s eyebrows went up. “Excuse me?”
“How much do you want? Ten million? Twenty?”