Chapter Thirty-Seven
The thicket of roses Underhill had clearly gone right on growing, but it had also formed a clearing large enough for us as well as the waiting fae, and my priorities shifted a little.
"Underhill, we are gladdened by your courtesy. And by yours, Gwyn ap Lugh. May I name those who travel with me?"
He gestured, and I did, seeing interested fae eyes. Ap Lugh stood with Nemane, and a half-dozen of the knights who'd appeared with him outside the courthouse in Boston. They weren't mounted this time, nor using glamour to conceal their appearances and the silver swords they carried. Nor was Zee, who gave me a fractional wink. It was always a shock to see his true form — seven foot of bronzed warrior — and I'd never seen him quite like this, with two swords as well as three daggers on his belt. But even he was nothing to the pair of trolls, which were not only in Medicine Wolf's league when it came to size, but female and naked except for what I had to call loincloths and very large pairs of leather gloves. What kind of leather I didn't like to think, but it was thicker than anything natural had ever had as skin, and I realised they would be able to grasp iron or steel.
"We hear your names, wolves and avatars. Be welcome Underhill. My knights answer to none but me, and I will not name them, but the others here besides myself are Nemane, the Dark Smith Loan Maclibuin, and the sisters Þorgerðr and Irpa. All heard your briefing, Adam Hauptman, and will conform to it until we have full control. Tell Underhill and your cloak where we must go, Mercedes."
Giving Underhill GPS co-ords seemed very odd, but I included them with as clear a description as I could manage, naming the isolated ridge formation and specifying the tributary ridge above old mine workings. I also kept in mind an image of what I'd seen on the Google satellite view, and I think that helped more — it wasn't like the manitou's reading but something brushed my awareness just as an archway opened, large enough to let everyone move forward at once.
The Wyoming air was not only much colder — we'd gained a good four or five thousand feet — but a great deal damper. It wasn't raining, but it had been, and the rock glistened when the moon came though the remaining cloudwrack. We were exactly where we'd wanted to be, and without speaking Fred and Hank stripped, packing boots and clothes for Simon to tote, and shifted to hawk forms, one wheeling up for an overview while the other slipped over the ridgeline and headed down. Nemane also shifted to her crow form and vanished into the night. The rest of us extended whatever senses we had as fully as possible, wolves' eyes gleaming yellow as their beasts lent them night vision, and though in human form I couldn't quite pick them out clearly I already knew what Raven had meant about a smell of pain and death. But nothing was moving in the night that shouldn't be there, so far as anyone could tell, until a faint pop announced Marsilia, Stefan, and Wulfe some thirty yards away. I raised a finger to my lips, and gestured around to show what we were doing. After a moment Adam shrugged, and we ghosted to join the vamps and go a little way along the back of the ridge before crossing it and moving downslope to the scrub where Raven had said there were shafts. All the fae were using magic to silence any sound they might make, even the trolls, and after a while I decided ap Lugh was letting some of that extend to us. The smells slowly strengthened, although the light breeze made them intermittent, and by the time we reached the scrub I knew exactly where the shafts were. Adam gave me a glance, then Charles, and I steeled myself before leaning over one, Charles beside me, and slowly breathing in.
It took something not to gag, but I sorted though it as best I could. "Blood, dust, and hunger. Ghosts. Silver and iron. At least two dead wolves and several dead humans, more than a score of living wolves, two or three vamps, an oakman, fae that smell of brine and fish, others of earth. And something that smells fae and … root beer?"
I saw Charles's mouth twitch. "It's wintergreen."
Ap Lugh nodded. "That would be a dryad. And probably selkies, with brownies and other small garden fae."
Both hawks circled back in to land and change, and spoke with their backs to us.
"Doors are shut tight, Adam, and look very solid. Steel. Tracks are SUVs or big pickups, and from where the overhang's protected them I'd say the topmost are at least three days old and heading out. Nothing else down there that I saw or sensed."
Fred nodded. "Same here. Some animal life but not much above rodents on the ridge, and nothing bigger than ravens and a coyote moving between here and the roads. Couple of semis headed south on 220, nothing on 410."
"Good. Thanks. Anyone else sense anything? Mercy, Charles, you're definite on no living humans?"
"Unless they're masked by magic with no smell."
"Guns or explosives?"
"Not that I can tell, but there's plenty of metal down there."
"Any of you vampires sense human life?"
Wulfe's face went blank for a moment — blanker than usual — and he shook his head with an odd delicacy. "Wolves in human and wolf shape, and bad shape, and fae, and vampires, but nothing that feels mortal."
"Alright. Then it's probably just getting in, but Fred and Hank, back upstairs, please, as lookouts, Simon and Chris, rearguard, Mary Jo, George, and Warren, flanks."
Adam took point, with Charles second, and David and Asil bracketed Anna and me, with the medics. Samuel's face was stony and distant, but when Anna brushed his arm he managed a brief smile of thanks. A steeper section took some concentration, and for me a handhold, but the slope soon eased off and the valley floor was hard and level despite the surface dampness. Until we reached the doors Adam remained very cautious, but all was still. I looked at them with some dismay, because they did look very solid indeed and my nose told me they were made of some pretty serious steel, as well as flush enough with the rock that only a faint smell of death was getting out.
"Charles, any trace of explosives?"
Charles smelt at the edges of the doors as high as he could, then along their base, and shook his head. "Rot. Nothing else I can pick out."
"Alright. Then it's getting in however we can. From the marks they open outwards."
The trolls rolled forward and contemplated the doors for a moment.
"No handholds."
I wasn't sure if it was Þorgerðr or Irpa, but the voice was surprisingly melodious. A very large finger prodded at the doors.
"They're thick. We could punch them, but breaking the rock would be quicker."
"I can blast them, but it'll be bad for what's inside."
Wulfe's face was neutral, and Adam shook his head.
"Last choice, then, Wulfe, and if then, for the hinges."
Zee had slipped between the trolls, and set a dagger to one door, by its junction with the other. It sank in slowly, and Zee moved it a little before withdrawing it and feeling the blade.
"I can carve it, but it won't be fast. Easier if the metal can be heated, because the blades will heat less as they cut."
That was the main reason we had Joel with us, and he turned away to strip. His tibicena form got some looks from ap Lugh's silent knights, and I wondered, not for the first time, what kind of beings they were, and what if any autonomy they had, but when he let his magmatic aspect dominate, flanks glowing with heat, almost everyone was looking and I wasn't unhappy to see Wulfe and Marsilia shift away a little, though Stefan didn't bother and gave me a wink. I was very glad that whatever I'd got from Guayota hadn't included any overt vulcanism, but Joel said it didn't bother him any more than having presa canario and room-temperature tibicena forms, and I'd reminded him during the briefing of what he'd done for Adam with his immunity to bullets, suggesting he might be able to do the same thing with his magma heat if he willed it. He'd looked at me doubtfully, but promised to try if it was needed, and as the trolls moved aside, looking interested, he reared up, planting two huge paws of crusted lava where Zee had been cutting, and stood there a moment, as if in contemplation. I could feel manitou magic gathering, and in so far as I could encouraged it, lending Joel my willed intent through his pack bond and adding whatever power of breaking and opening any of my magic had. And when Joel let it out through his paws, punching it into the metal, everyone knew.
For maybe a foot around each paw, joining in the middle, steel barely had time to glow red before it became incandescent white and the reek of hot metal filled the air. Joel pushed himself away to land on all fours, steel dimpling under his pressure, and Zee's blades, one in each hand, sliced in, twisting to flick out chunks of glowing metal, five, six times before he paused.
"The same place, deeper if you can, Herr Arocha."
Joel complied, paws resting two or three inches into each door, and when Zee got back to work he stabbed both blades in, carving out a circle that he was able to push in. He looked at the hole, asked Joel to heat the lower edge, and two more cycles enlarged it to something workable for troll hands. Magic crackled as Zee made a gesture, and I heard metal creak complaint as the heat was dumped somewhere. The trolls leaned in, peering.
"That'll do nicely."
Everyone stood back, Joel reverting to his room-temperature version, and the trolls each got a gloved hand in, gripping and beginning to pull. Looking at their musculature as it swelled I thought they probably had pentaceps or hexiceps, and their feet dug six inches into the earth as metal began to groan and bulge. Still pulling, one spoke.
"Bolts."
Ap Lugh went to stand between them, staring at the base of the doors, and water that smelt fresh began to churn and foam hard-packed earth, scouring out a trench and biting into rock. It was much more like the sea's power to erode, hugely accelerated, than anything lakewater usually did, and I filed the thought away. A shiver ran through the doors, and ap Lugh leaped back as the bottoms of the doors abruptly rose, bolt-sockets tearing through weakened rock. Each troll got a hand under a leaf, shifted so they could use more of their legs, and began to straighten, metal screaming until the upper bolts smashed out of their sockets with violent cracks as rock shattered. The trolls staggered back, letting go, the doors swung open, and the smell hit me like a brick.
The reek of heated metal and magic had been masking it, but there were bodies close, and they hadn't died well. The tunnel ran straight into the rock, and it was too dark even for coyote eyes, but there were a lot of beings in there and the mix of fear, rot, illness, sewage, hunger, and hope was brutal. A puff of roses from the cloak served to block it a little, letting me recover, and I murmured thanks. Then ap Lugh flicked a ball of magic into the tunnel that rose towards the roof brightening into a blaze of what I'd bet was marshlight. It certainly didn't bother the vamps at all, and I gave the fae points for honour. Two of ap Lugh's knights and the trolls stayed on guard, and we went in.
The area immediately inside the doors had clearly been the vehicle park — there were oil-stains on the rock, and a lingering trace of gas and exhaust fumes. But it was in what must have served as an unloading area that the bodies lay — a half-changed wolf riddled with silver bullets, and four human bodies that had to be its kills before someone stopped it. All had been gutted and had their throats ripped out, and the congealed blood was thick and studded with fragments of tissue. The dryness and sealed doors had inhibited but not stopped decay, but blood exposed to air does what it does, and I forced myself to smell it clearly as well as letting my eyes roam and assess. Several ghosts were flickering in and out above the mess, and my voice sounded flat to my own ears.
"This happened late Tuesday night or early Wednesday morning. Maybe after news of MacLandis's death leaked. Humans wanted to leave. Wolf disagreed and lost it. Fifth human was packing silver. Please hold a moment, everyone."
I managed to extricate the vidcam from under my body armour, and shot a wide-angle view before taking a step forward, zooming in, and tracking across the bodies. FBI forensics should make it clear they weren't on us, but every little might help. Then I reached for the magic that had always been mine, and snapped an order at the ghosts, vanishing them.
"Charles, you know the wolf?"
He went forward carefully, and stooped to look impassively at the distorted corpse.
"Face is more than half-changed and just as shot away, Adam. But it might be a loner called Michael Travers, who was reported drowned four years ago." He straightened, frowning. "Travers was older than me by some way, and only middling dominant. Might have flipped. Warren?"
Warren also went and looked, his face a mask. "Only met him … twice, briefly, but could be."
Adam's voice was neutral. "Wolf magic can't reverse a change in one dead. Witchcraft can but I don't have a witch to hand. Anyone capable?"
If anyone was they weren't saying, and Zee's voice cut across us from a side chamber.
"Generator that closed those doors is in here, run dry, but there's gas in cans. You want it running?"
"Gwyn ap Lugh, is that light any drain on you?"
"Minimal."
"Then not yet, Dark Smith. Light would be good but I'm thinking electrified bars."
"Ja. One moment."
Light flared in the side chamber, and after a moment we heard some snaps and thunks.
"Outputs disconnected except for one labelled lights."
"Go ahead."
Gas glugged, and a moment later a throaty roar and some exhaust smell preceded a slow flicker in the overheads. As they brightened their light became a harsh glare, illuminating a lot of tunnel and bringing cries from deep within. Wordlessly we moved forward, skirting the carnage, and forty yards in, past a kitchen and utility area with a table that would have seated twelve at a pinch, a recreation area with sofas, a big-screen TV, and a gym mat with some weights, a wide side tunnel had a cage containing three emaciated but conscious male vamps. Marsilia had been silent, walking with Wulfe and Stefan to one side, but blurred into motion, stopping in front of the cage door. The vamps were huddled against the far side.
"And why did you not break these bars?"
Marsilia's voice was deadly level, but the most alert-looking of the captives shrugged fractionally, not meeting her eyes.
"Starvation, old one. There is a limit to how much we can feed on one another, and we have had nothing else for months. And there is something in the bars — even well, I doubt I could bend them."
I didn't see Marsilia's arms come up, but she was gripping two bars and pulling for a long second before stepping back.
"Wulfe?"
He drifted forward, and looked at the bars, then leaned forward and licked one slowly. Somewhere magic flickered, though I knew it only in my gut.
"Cores of tungsten and a very hard ceramic. It'll take me a minute, Mistress."
He laid his hands on two bars, and froze. My gut told me some more about magic at work, and I could see others feeling it. Nemane had reappeared from somewhere, and was looking at Wulfe with narrowed eyes, as was Zee. With a faint pop both bars Wulfe was holding vanished, and he spoke in a voice heavy with power.
"Come, all three. You have much to explain, but you will be heard and a sun will pass before any decide anything."
The captives came forward, squeezing through the opening. Marsilia grasped the first — the one who'd spoken before — and vanished with him, but as the second came through and Stefan opened his arms to grasp him I forced myself to speak.
"Wulfe, two things before you go."
Everyone looked at me, Stefan's eyes concerned and Wulfe's blank.
"We will do all we can to acquire all records, but there is no guarantee. If the Feds ask directly, with knowledge, what would you have us say? And please cleanse that cage of all evidence."
"Stefan, go."
Stefan picked up his load, gave me another fractional wink with a mouthed 'thanks', and vanished. Wulfe offered a hand to the third, ordering as much as helping him, and looked at me even as his free hand spilled a fizz of gray magic through the cage, scouring its floor and rising up the bars. How blank eyes saw so much I didn't like to imagine.
"If the Feds learn and ask, Mercy, give them my cell number. And I, as the oldest surviving wizard vampire, say you have aided us in this, without obligation, and so have my protection. The Master of the Night will be informed, and all will know." He sighed, eyes flickering presence. "Such a shame. No other avatar is protected, but we will not hunt if we are not threatened."
He and the vamp held casually with one arm vanished, and ap Lugh's voice was sharp, though he was looking at Nemane.
"Well and good. Our own kinds wait as they should not."
No-one was arguing, and we went deeper. I had the camera running again for the record. The smell of old death thickened, and the cries the first light had provoked had died away. A second side tunnel was narrow and held nothing but a heavy steel door, and though locked it wasn't sealed underneath, the air carrying no smell of life beyond it, so we ignored it for now, though there was a scent I remembered. A third, opposite, gave onto a dormitory with some empty beds that had been stripped to the mattresses. Searching it could wait too, as could a fourth with a single empty cage that smelt of blood, some simple lab equipment — scales, burners, retorts — and a metal-working bench. But a fifth, perhaps seventy yards in held nine faded and miserable fae in iron cages, three with lank whiskers and all showing scars, and just beyond that the main tunnel opened out into a big rectangular chamber. A large metal plate with a central hatch filled the centre of the floor, leaking the smells of rot from somewhere below, and I guessed it must cover the mine's main shaft which had been seen as a handy disposal place. On the far side was a space holding a large tank that stank of chemicals and sewage, and ghosts were coiling everywhere, some old and tattered, some much newer. But what mattered more were the silver cages lining three walls and the twenty-six living and three dead wolves they contained. The dead were all half-changed, eight of the living were in wolf form, the rest naked human, and all were starving, but that wasn't what was keeping them still. That was Alpha power, and my eyes found her at once, appreciating the irony despite the context — an older, square-jawed Hispanic woman with a will of iron. The others were all younger, mostly female, and except for five who looked Anglo either African American or Hispanic. I couldn't read all the dominances, but a very high proportion were touching one another through the bars and felt like submissives, which was completely unexpected, and none was remotely the woman's match. Opening my magic as wide as it would go I decided they weren't properly a pack, because they didn't know how to become one, but they'd formed a gang, and she was the gangboss — and she had enough that I thought most of them did have control of their wolves, perhaps because submissives had an easier time with that anyway. She could also sense the Alpha power that had just walked in, and she was torn between hope and fear, her eyes flicking between Adam, Charles, and Asil.
"We are here to free you, not hurt you."
"Seen you on TV. You're the Tri-Cities werewolf."
Her voice was a croak and Adam swiftly offered a water bottle through the bars. I completed a quick pan and turned the camera off.
"Right. Adam Hauptman, Alpha of the Columbia Basin Pack. You might know David Christiansen's face too. Everyone else is fae, wolf, or other shapeshifter. You won't know Anna, and I don't know if you know about Omegas, but she can help you stay calm while we get you out of here."
"That fucking tranquiliser?"
"No, nothing like that." Anna managed to smile, though it lacked her usual wattage, as she went forward holding out a hand. "Just touch me."
A loud clang from the side tunnel where the fae were made the captives jump.
"Not a problem, people. Just some fae friends starting to bust their own out. Then we'll break your bars. That's the sort of thing you'll find easier if you let Anna help. We can also get you some food."
"Who are you? And what are you wearing?"
"Adam's wife and mate. Mercedes Hauptman. I go by Mercy. A rose cloak — fae present. So's the stick. Please let Anna help."
After a moment she shrugged, extending a hand carefully through the bars for Anna to hold lightly. Her face slackened, and she sighed.
"That's … a miracle right there. Alright, let her do this, all of you. It's like the wolf going to sleep. No pain and lots of gain."
Asil and others were breaking out packs of mince and gathering water bottles, and went round behind Anna, who was speaking softly but clearly as she offered her calm and tensions began to ease.
"We're assuming you were all kidnapped by Cantrip and forcibly Changed. Anyone that doesn't fit? OK, then. Know that what was done to you was as wrong by the wolf code as by human law. You are owed compensation, and you are under wolf protection, but we cannot undo what has been done. Not won't, can't. The Change is irreversible. We will help in every way we can, but we cannot do the impossible. Better news is that those responsible for what Cantrip did to you are dead, under arrest, or running. We think a man called Preskylovitch was in charge here. Yes?" The abrupt spike in tension answered her. "Don't worry, he's among the dead. A very large friend of Mercy's ate him on Tuesday morning. Barfed him up again, after he was dead, though. Truly. We'll show you the security-cam footage. You've got lots to catch up on, and I know there'll be family and friends you'll be desperate to contact. We'll help with that. And the FBI will be here in an hour or two. Also good guys. We've been working with them …"
I crossed to Adam, tuning Anna out a little. "It's a mess, but it's way better than it could have been."
"Yes."
"And we need what's behind that steel door — it smelt of Preskylovitch."
He gave me a look, eyes very yellow. "Did it now?"
"Yeah, it did. Get Joel to melt that lock out? Samuel and Asil can hold down anyone here. I'll try to get rid of the ghosts in here and get the medics cooking what mince we have left, and if there's any reception outside I'll call Bran, and Fisher for more food and clothing."
"Ghosts?"
"Oh yeah. Mostly faded and confused."
"Right."
He nodded and went with Charles and Joel, calling to Gwyn ap Lugh, but before I could follow I heard Anna mention me.
"… want to get you all out and clothed as soon as we can, but there are some hard things too, and Mercy's better at that than I am. It's nothing you don't know, but we have to face it up front. Mercy?"
I went to the Alpha's cage. The water she'd drunk and the half-pound of mince she'd already eaten raw despite being in human form had given her back some colour.
"I'm sorry, we can't get you clothing or break you out immediately, and I don't know your name."
"Ramona Velasquez."
"Thank you. I don't know what you were told about becoming a wolf, Ms Velazquez, but when it's properly done the first concern afterwards is being sure the human is in charge of the wolf, and not the other way round. Is there anyone in your — I won't say pack, because you're not, by wolf definitions, so let's say group — anyone in your group who is not in control of their wolf?"
"Not now." She gestured to one of the cages with a dead half-changed wolf. "Tyron, Luke, and Estelle never got control, and when they started changing during the ruckus three days back Travers shot them."
"Michael Travers was the wolf who changed you all?"
"Yeah."
"He's dead too, inside the entrance."
"Good."
There was venom in the word and I held up a hand. "No argument here. The ones in wolf form have full control?"
"They change only when they want, except at full moon. When we seemed to have been abandoned to starve they wanted to change, and I let them. They don't have the energy to change back, but food'll fix it."
"And wolf rage, in either form? We do not want to get someone back to visit their family and have them lose it with wolf strength."
She thought about it. "I get that. Not that I've seen. Rage didn't help in here. Visit?"
"Yeah. We want reunions, but going back to how things were before Cantrip stole your lives won't work. You are all wolves, predators and pack animals. You are moonbound. We can get you back to a good life, but not the same life."
"OK, I get that, too. Anna said the Feds are coming in?"
"Yeah. FBI."
"I'm not, but some of them are illegals."
"They have wolf protection regardless. Can't promise what the Feds will do, but we won't stand for deportations and I'll try to head anything except naturalisation papers off at the pass."
"That would be good." She looked at me curiously. "How come you're in charge? Travers was furious I was what he called dominant and the others mostly what he called submissive. Said female wolves took status only from their mates."
"Usually, not always. You're an exception. And while I'm no wolf — my furry form is coyote — as Adam's mate I have Alpha status. I'm not in charge, though, just taking point too much this week. It's complicated. Getting back to business, I'm guessing you and maybe Travers helped these folks gain control of their wolves?"
"Me, mostly. Every time he made a new wolf that survived and found it was another submissive, he got mad. I did what I could."
"And how did you control your own wolf?"
She shrugged. "Stared it down. No-one tells me what to do if I can help it."
"Good for you. Not many manage that. This may sound weird, but how do you understand or perceive your relationship to this group?"
I didn't expect her edgy smile.
"Maternal, mostly. I miss my kids, and they're mostly not much older. And while there wasn't a hell of a lot I could do, I've protected them when I could. Preskylovitch did whatever the hell he wanted, but I could back down Travers and most of the others. And though everyone here has seen some shit, I've seen more than most. Nothing like this, though."
"OK. You've done superbly under hideous conditions. You are all in effect a pack, and one answer might be for you to become one properly. But any which way, I think we need to try to keep you together, for a while at least, and have families come to you. You cool with that?"
She thought about it, and nodded. "I guess. Even when I dreamed of getting out of this hole I knew my old life was gone. And you people have already made me feel better than I have since those Cantrip shits snatched me off the street in Cheyenne."
"Alright. I have to go make some calls, if I can."
"There's reception outside if you go beyond the overhang fifty yards east. They used to grumble about it when it was raining."
"Thanks. And don't worry about strange noises or smells. We'll be melting some metal to get into a locked room, and it was a couple of trolls who tore out the main doors."
"Trolls? Fuck. And you're a coyote? What's the big … dog-thing?"
"Joel's a tibicena, and in our pack. Has another dog form, too. Long story. Oh, and one thing. I'm going to say this with power because it matters a great deal. OK?" Everyone was listening anyway, but they listened harder. "Do not mention the vampire captives, or the fact that vampires exist, in the hearing of any human, especially any Federal employee. Not one word. They know about the Fae and wolves, they don't know, we hope, about vamps. The captives are gone, and they must stay that way. This is for your own safety, from vamps, who do not want themselves outed, and from Feds, because if they think you're a source of data about a new, to them, type of preternatural, they will want to hang on to you hard and squeeze you for every drop. You can be open about most everything else. Just leave all vamps out of it."
"Hear you, Mercy." Ramona frowned. "Travers said a lot of stuff about a top wolf. Someone or something called the Marrok. That wasn't public last time I was."
"My Da." Samuel had drifted up behind me. "Some humans know, and more will. I doubt you'll need to worry about that, though not mentioning him unless directly asked about him would be wise. Go call him and Fisher, Mercy, and I'll get someone cooking. Hob in that kitchen is gas."
"OK. One thing first."
I stood on the plate, amid the miasma of ghosts, and did my best to assure them they would be properly buried and avenged before asking them to move on. Some went for the asking, others responded to a push, but a few remained, hungry for certainty, and I gave them slow nods.
"I will do all I can."
Then I went, ignoring the looks with David at my side, seeing that the fae already had all but two of their captives freed, with Zee cutting out the next lock, and that down the tunnel Joel was already pouring heat into the steel door, Gwyn ap Lugh watching with Adam and Charles. It felt like a much more focused use of his magic than he'd managed before, and even before I reached them he dropped and pulled back a few steps before launching himself back at the door and smashing it open. A glowing fragment of what had been the bolt fell to the floor, and ap Lugh sent some magic at it and the door frame that chilled them before nodding to Joel and stepping inside, followed by Charles. I stopped by Adam and peered in.
"Jackpot."
"Oh yeah."
The space had a bed, and personal items, all squared off, but it also had both a desk with a laptop and papers, and a long table with a row of a dozen iMacs wired together. Charles looked up at me.
"Mercy, is there reception outside?"
"So I'm told."
"Good. Tell Da, please. Gwyn ap Lugh, it would be easiest to remove them all, and the desk, and examine them at leisure. Might Þorgerðr and Irpa take them, and leave them in the clearing amid roses for us to collect? Unless you would rather make your deletions first?"
Ap Lugh looked down for a moment. "You have better skills with them, Charles Cornick, so yes. The trolls can also break your wolves out, if you want — that chamber is big enough, and silver no problem for them."
"That would be good. If you will ask them, Adam and I will start unjacking cables."
"Very well."
So it was ap Lugh who walked beside me back towards the entrance, David dropping back, and I stopped at the kitchen area.
"One moment, if you will. What were they feeding anyone with?"
Cupboards held pans and utensils, but there wasn't even a coffee jar by the kettle, and though there was a fridge-freezer big enough to have held food for forty for a few days, it was empty. So was a deep alcove cut in the rock, unrefrigerated but chill, but there were roof hooks and I could smell the meat that had been there.
"They took all the food when they left, as well as stripping the dorm." I thought about it. "Didn't have it in them to kill the captives right out, or deal with the bodies, but hoped they'd all starve to death before they were found."
"I agree." Ap Lugh's face showed distaste, and he walked to the edge of the carnage, looking carefully. "These human dead look as if they were fit and worked out. It may be Travers took out the easy killers."
I joined him, seeing what he meant. "That's a thought. Can the trolls get round this without disturbing it?"
"They can hop over. Five here. Preskylovitch makes six. How many fled?"
"There were eleven beds in that dormitory, so six maximum. Are your rescuees alright?"
"No. But they will live. We need to get them Underhill also, but Nemane will see to that as soon as they're all free. I will stay at least until the FBI arrives."
I was surprised, but it wasn't my problem. Yet. "As you will, Gwyn ap Lugh. Adam and I can deal with them if you'd rather, and I'm about to call Fisher. We need food and clothing."
"I will stay. I would know how many dead are down that shaft."
"Yeah. That is not going to be good. I'll be warning Fisher about the forensics job they'll be facing."
"Yes." His gaze was intent, and there was magic in it but no harm. "The rose cloak has moulded itself to you faster than I would have expected before this week. With wolves and avatars, use it to travel via Underhill as you will, taking no step aside."
"OK, that's useful. Underhill doesn't mind?"
"Not in the least, Mercedes. It likes you."
"Huh. Medicine Wolf said it thought Underhill had been pleased I called on its justice."
"It is correct. And we are reminded of why our ancient law says we must honour those outsiders Underhill chooses." He sighed. "Mercedes, I know you will not want it, but it is getting hard to deny that you are owed a debt by all fae."
He was right about what I didn't want, and time was passing. "No, I'm not, Gwyn ap Lugh. Underhill is balancing all. Wolves and fae both owe Raven and his kind, though, for finding this place."
"Yes. You are sure?"
"I am, but I will add that your co-operation and aid with the hydro-engineering project would be welcome. I told the President that if he and you can work something out, a joint human and multiple preternatural effort would generate lots of good PR."
"So I gathered. And if, yes, as that would also suit us."
"Good. I'm glad. And now I want some air that doesn't smell of death so much."