See Part One for story details.


Jenny walked out into another chamber. Here, the symbols that covered the stone were obliterated. Scratched away by long, jagged claw marks, Jenny realised as she considered them in the dull illumination of the small flambeaus above. They seemed to burn endlessly, though there was no sign of anyone tending them.

Jenny looked up to consider the torches more carefully when a sound from the next passage made her freeze. It was a low purring sound, more a vibration that troubled the air around her, distrupting the buzzing that filled her head. Jenny shifted the grip on her dirk and turned in a slow arc until she was peering down the far corridor. Peering because the light was much dimmer than it had been moments before.

And then the darkness shifted and resolved itself into a huge creature. Jenny stumbled back, struggling to keep her feet beneath her as the beast opened its jaws and roared. She took another step back, staring up into the long, matted mane of a lion. Its eyes were wide and mad with rage, its fur stained dark with blood and waste. It was mangy and weakened by its life in the darkness but it was still a terrifying sight to behold.

The gaunt face loomed over her, the front paw lifting to swat and Jenny thrust out with the dirk. The blade caught deep into the creature's flesh and it howled in pain. The sound filled the chamber, deafening Jenny who was desperately trying to free her knife from the thick knot of muscle.

The flesh gave with a cruel sucking sound and the dirk was free but Jenny's strength was concentrated on pulling back and the sudden loss of a counterpoint caused her to overbalance, crashing down to the mist and filth-covered ground with a loud grunt. The creature advanced, favouring its uninjured side but just as strong as before and ever more terrifying. The maw opened wide, the sharp teeth cutting jagged lines in Jenny's vision, the gust of stinking breath covering her face.

Jenny pulled her legs up into her chest and pushed out with her feet, striking as hard as ever she could at the beast. The head lifted mid-roar, the chest was exposed and Jenny caught it a powerful blow in the throat. She felt the impact through her whole body, her knees wrenched, her legs screaming in pain but she dared not let up, putting all of her strength behind the movement.

The lion's head jerked back, a strangled, gasping sound coming deep from its chest, a hideous snapping loud from it's neck. It staggered back, head drooping at a strange angle, tongue lolling out, blood trickling from its mouth. Jenny scrambled backwards on her elbows, pulling herself up in the far corner of the chamber until she was in a low crouch.

She ignored the burning pain in her legs and stood as best she could. Her eyes never left the beast as it sank into the filth, it's huge head tilted at an odd angle so that one eye was covered by the red mist, it's gaping mouth open and gasping for breath. She stared down as the creature's chest rose and fell in ever shallower breaths and felt a tear cool her burning cheeks as what had just happened came crashing down upon her.

Jenny felt her eyes closing, her grip on the dirk relaxing and she shook herself hard, certain that she could not afford to lose her focus even for a moment. She hesitated no more, picking her way through the mist around the edge of the room and slipping into the corridor just as the lion gave up its final breath.


Vastra felt her ire rise as she stood, frozen with indecision. She was not familiar with the sensation, not wanting to allow herself to become so affected by a choice that should have been self-evident. These young men required her assistance and were here, awaiting it immediately. Jenny was... Vastra's chest constricted at the very thought... Jenny was lost, perhaps not even alive.

"No," Vastra hissed, her Silurian heritage sounding clear in the single word.

No, Jenny was alive and she would find her, rescue her from whatever ills had befallen the young woman and get them both away from this place. She tried to wake the young men, not sure if she wanted them with her in her search or to send them back to the surface with word for the Inspector. It was useless though; all attempts to rouse them proving fruitless as they slept on in their strange, comatose state.

She would have to leave them and place faith in the Goddess - or plain luck - that they would remain here until she and Jenny could return for them. With that decision made, she felt her vigour renewed and turned to the door with a surge of determination.

It was almost her undoing. She made to open the door, to leave the room without considering what might await her in the corridor beyond. Her fingers on the handle, arm tensed to open it, Vastra froze once more. She pressed her ear to the wood and forced herself to calm.

There were sounds outside, movement approaching this very door. Vastra shrank back into the corner of the room, her back pressed against the side wall, her feet placed carefully to ensure that she did not upset the nearest amphora. She waited, listening to the sounds outside, watching the handle of the door intently. When it turned and the door began to open, she leaned forward, her jaw relaxing.

There were two robed figures, both side on to her, both hoods pulled low to cover their faces. Vastra cursed her ill luck but leapt forward, knocking the figures into each other and sending them tumbling into the wall opposite. Two amphora fell as the figures fought to regain their balance and a thick, golden liquid spilled out. It smelled strongly of the unidentified odour from the riverbank and left the stone floor slick, causing the men to struggle even more.

Vastra was upon the nearest, her dirk sinking deep into his neck. She looked away, rage burning in her eyes to find her gaze met by a young man's terrified expression. He was little more than Hawthorne's age, his skin pockmarked and pale beneath the markings. Vastra's tongue lashed out but she couldn't make the killing strike. He fell unconscious and upturned another amphora, this one disgorging a pile of salt.

Vastra cursed her weakness but wasted no time in removing the young man's robe. She donned it quickly, tugging on it to try to cover more of her longer legs. Neither of the robed men was as tall as she and though the first was a little taller, his robe was torn and stained from her attack. She freed the dirk from his chest, cursing yet again.

After a moment to settle her rage, Vastra dragged the bodies to the other side of the room, trying to hide them from view of the doorway but knowing that they might be discovered at any moment.

There was nothing more that she could do and Vastra left the room without a look back.