He had become sloppy thinking their flight from the country had bought them all the time they would need. His mind flickered to the archivist, to the introduction Rose’s boss at the museum had made for them, and realization washed over him in a cold flood. Their pursuers had obviously been to Rose’s workplace and got the information from Professor Phelps. Crowley desperately hoped that man was okay. He needed to get back to Rose, get on the move again, and put some new distance between them and their pursuers.
Cautiously, he made his way back through the tight gap, out of the small cell and into the oubliette. He couldn’t get out of this miserable place soon enough.
A chill shot up his spine as he emerged into the larger space and looked to the pool of light falling from the access hole high above. Light was all that fell down.
His rope was gone.
Chapter 25
Crowley stood, fingers linked together atop his head, staring into the column of wan light from above. Trapped in an oubliette. His heart hammered, ice washed through his gut. It was a nightmare made real. The opening high above, designed specifically to thwart escape, mocked him with its brightness.
He took a deep breath. He wouldn’t rot down here. At worst he would have to yell for help like a recalcitrant child and keep yelling until he was hoarse. Eventually some official employee would hear, they would come and help him out. But he would be in a lot of trouble, maybe even arrested. And then where would that leave Rose. He couldn’t allow that to happen.
He turned to the walls, curving slowly up to the exit. Maybe he was fit and strong enough, his military regime of fitness maintained, at least to some degree. He certainly wasn’t the wasted prisoner who might have been thrown into this dungeon in days past. He found a wall with what appeared to be the widest trails of mortar and began to scratch it out, make a hand hold. He got a toe into one mortar course, reached up and wedged his fingers into the highest he could reach, and hauled. The stone was hard, sharp edges scraping at the skin of his fingers, dragging against his nails. His muscles strained as he pulled and managed to get a meter or so off the ground. He reached up again, scraped a patch of sandy mortar free and pulled again. Teeth gritted, grunting with the effort, he gained another meter. He allowed himself a moment’s congratulation, ignored the nagging thought of how he might get across the ceiling even if he scaled the wall, and slipped.
He yelped, skin barking off one knee and each fingertip as he slid down. He gouged his hands in and managed to arrest the fall. Two meters up, one back. This would take a while.
He glanced down, the flagstone floor still insultingly close, and began to climb again. He made it up another couple of meters, then craned his neck to see back over his shoulder. Could he get high enough, then brace his legs against the wall and push back, leap across the space to grab the edge of the hole high above?
His brow creased in concentration, and despair. Who did he think he was? Spider-Man? Regardless, he pushed on, reached up for another handhold, and fell.
For a moment he seemed weightless, then air rushed past, whipping at his hair and jacket, and the hard stone floor slammed into his back. The breath was hammered from his lungs, his bones flexed and flesh howled as he curled into a fetal ball and groaned. He dragged air into his battered body, squinted against the hurt and dragged air in again. He let his panic settle as he mentally searched for any specific pain, any broken bones.
Bloody idiot, he thought to himself. Could have smashed your stupid skull.
He might be less use to Rose if he were arrested, but he’d be no use to her at all if he was dead. He climbed slowly to his feet, testing every limb, thankful he wasn’t more than bruised. Lucky. Frowning, he scoured the dungeon, looking for anything else. A trapdoor, a bricked up entrance to some other tunnel that he could maybe clear with enough time and some improvised tools. Anything. But there was nothing to be found.
Accepting his fate, he walked back to the middle of the space and looked up through the light to the hole high above. He would have to call for help after all. Maybe he could tell them that he’d been intrigued by the grill covering the oubliette and had leaned on it for a better look inside and it had given way. But that was clearly not the case, given its position from where he had removed it earlier. So maybe he should tell them he had lifted it aside for a better look, but fallen in like a clumsy fool. Then how would he explain his lack of injuries from a fall that far onto stone? But there was no rope in evidence after all, nothing to show his premeditation in accessing the dungeon. Perhaps they would believe he had been both uncommonly foolish and lucky.
He jumped as a shadow appeared above, a human shape in silhouette blocking out most of the light. “Hey,” a voice called down. “Need a lift?”
Chapter 26
A grin broke out across Crowley’s face. “Rose!”
“You appear to be in a bind.”
She busied herself for a moment, then Crowley’s rope dropped back down into the oubliette. He’d never been more glad to see an inanimate object in his life. He climbed up hand over hand, quicker than a monkey up a fresh banana tree. Once back out into the tower, they worked quickly, removing the rope, replacing the grill over the dungeon entrance, then hurried from the dungeons. Checking for any guards, thankful to see none, they jogged away and were soon strolling back along Golden Lane.
Crowley kept alert, scanning constantly for the bad guys. His body ached all over like he’d not only been hit by a bus, but that it had reversed and had a second go to make sure. “How did you know to come for me?” he asked, finally relaxed enough in their safety to talk again.
“Not long after we left the tower, I spotted those guys.” She winced. “I recognized them, of course. I’ll never forget those faces since they attacked me.” She flashed him a grin. “One of them is limping pretty badly though. Looks like I got him good with that kick.”
“Good for you! It’s the least they deserve.”
“I knew I had to follow them, but I also knew I couldn’t get too close. If they saw me, they wouldn’t bother with you and I’d be in trouble. So I followed them, but at a safe distance.”
“You shouldn’t have done that.”
Rose smirked. “Then you’d still be in that hole.”
“I know, but that’s my look out. They’re after you, they mean you harm.”
Rose shrugged. “We’re in this together. I wasn’t going to leave you. Anyway, I kept out of sight. When they went into the tower, I was scared for you, but had no idea how I could follow them in without being seen. And if they had gone down after you and I followed down the rope, I'd be a piñata for them.”
Crowley chuckled. “Yeah, that would have been bad. One waited at the top, so you’d never have got down probably.” He winked. “The one with the bum knee.”
“So maybe I could have taken him, after all. Anyway, not knowing what else to do, I waited outside. It wasn’t long before they came back out. I waited until I was certain they were long gone, then came back for you. Your rope was still there, just piled up on the floor by the opening.” She lifted his hand and looked with concerned eyes at his scraped fingers. “Glad I did.” She bit her lip, hesitated, then, “I have to admit, I was afraid they’d done you in.”