Re: Down The Rabbit Hole [Chapter 7]
Posted: 28 Jan 2018, 17:22
Something caused the woman to grow quiet, and as the door to the floor below groaned open, she frowned. There was uneasiness in her chest, one that seemed to swell with each step taken. The darker it became, the more she chewed on her lip, the flesh tender from the continued abuse, the taste of her blood as bitter as the scent that seemed to hang heavy in the air. “Stop!” The sudden command echoed off the stone, and she didn’t realize that she had not only placed a hand to Hudson’s chest, but also tangled her fingers within the fabric of her sire’s top.
“Do you smell that? It’s…” Her words trailed off as she dropped into a crouch, her fingers curled around the cool metal of her flashlight. As the beam swept across the ground, she noticed nothing at first, but then, buried beneath a pile of pebbles and tattered cloth, was a trap. “Poison,” she hissed, irritation flashing in the dark amber of her eyes. If one of them had set it off, it someone had made one wrong move, three out of four of their group would have been out. The poison would have worked its way into their veins, sickening them for days.
Studying the rusted bit of metal, she gave a slow shake of her head and straightened, her nerves ignited. Every step she took had to be calculated. Every twitch of her finger, every whispered word had to be carefully chosen. If she were to make one wrong move – if any of them were to – there was no way they would know what was to happen. Who would be stupid enough to lay poison traps? If something were to ignite the fume from the dart, would it create an explosion? If there were more, would the toxins hang heavy in the air, with no ventilation system? The thoughts ran rampant through her mind as she took a slow step around the rock, her wary gaze seeking those of her team.
“If one of you can work out the traps, I suggest doing so. We can’t risk these,” she muttered, before tucking a stray curl behind her ear. When she moved forward this time, it was slowly, her steps uncertain and her attention jumping back and forth between the shadows. She hadn’t heard a single sound, but there was a dark energy in the air. One that warned her something was near, something was coming. Working her lip between her teeth, still, she lifted the dull beam to the ceiling and followed a crack in the stone, until she found herself at a wall. A wall, that seemed out of place, and one that held a strange symbol. She had seen it before, the intricate lines that made the ancient tribal image one that she had studied years ago. For a second, she became frozen as she flipped through the images within her mind, much as one would flip through the thousands of pages of a book.
After a moment, she was able to bring the image to the forefront of her memory, and her fingers slowly reached out to trace one of the ragged cuts in the stone. “Every, come here for a minute,” she whispered as her finger traced along the line. The ancient rune wasn’t one she figured was known by ritualists, but she knew that it was important. There was a code hidden within the swirl of the moon and the fire of the trees. There was no name for the language. It had been rumored to have been created by the darkest of tribesmen to lock something dangerous within, but the mythology had never been proven. Sweeping her tongue across her lower lip, she tapped a single nail again against a wilted flower, and smiled. “Is this something you would have used or seen before? You’ve been a part of this nightlife longer than we have. It’s from an elder tribe, one rumored to have been guardians to an ancient evil, but it’s possible the fae have taken the symbol and it’s power for themselves…”
“Do you smell that? It’s…” Her words trailed off as she dropped into a crouch, her fingers curled around the cool metal of her flashlight. As the beam swept across the ground, she noticed nothing at first, but then, buried beneath a pile of pebbles and tattered cloth, was a trap. “Poison,” she hissed, irritation flashing in the dark amber of her eyes. If one of them had set it off, it someone had made one wrong move, three out of four of their group would have been out. The poison would have worked its way into their veins, sickening them for days.
Studying the rusted bit of metal, she gave a slow shake of her head and straightened, her nerves ignited. Every step she took had to be calculated. Every twitch of her finger, every whispered word had to be carefully chosen. If she were to make one wrong move – if any of them were to – there was no way they would know what was to happen. Who would be stupid enough to lay poison traps? If something were to ignite the fume from the dart, would it create an explosion? If there were more, would the toxins hang heavy in the air, with no ventilation system? The thoughts ran rampant through her mind as she took a slow step around the rock, her wary gaze seeking those of her team.
“If one of you can work out the traps, I suggest doing so. We can’t risk these,” she muttered, before tucking a stray curl behind her ear. When she moved forward this time, it was slowly, her steps uncertain and her attention jumping back and forth between the shadows. She hadn’t heard a single sound, but there was a dark energy in the air. One that warned her something was near, something was coming. Working her lip between her teeth, still, she lifted the dull beam to the ceiling and followed a crack in the stone, until she found herself at a wall. A wall, that seemed out of place, and one that held a strange symbol. She had seen it before, the intricate lines that made the ancient tribal image one that she had studied years ago. For a second, she became frozen as she flipped through the images within her mind, much as one would flip through the thousands of pages of a book.
After a moment, she was able to bring the image to the forefront of her memory, and her fingers slowly reached out to trace one of the ragged cuts in the stone. “Every, come here for a minute,” she whispered as her finger traced along the line. The ancient rune wasn’t one she figured was known by ritualists, but she knew that it was important. There was a code hidden within the swirl of the moon and the fire of the trees. There was no name for the language. It had been rumored to have been created by the darkest of tribesmen to lock something dangerous within, but the mythology had never been proven. Sweeping her tongue across her lower lip, she tapped a single nail again against a wilted flower, and smiled. “Is this something you would have used or seen before? You’ve been a part of this nightlife longer than we have. It’s from an elder tribe, one rumored to have been guardians to an ancient evil, but it’s possible the fae have taken the symbol and it’s power for themselves…”