CHAPTER 7
Claws in the Dark
"Hey, you okay?!" Sam's voice reached from up high.
Nate winced at the pain in his back and squinted his eyes at the faraway mouth of the tunnel where three faint silhouettes of heads stared down at him, almost indiscernible against the darkening background behind them.
"I'm all right…all right… come on down!" Nate replied weakly, rubbing his lower back and forcing himself up onto his feet, "Watch out for where the rope ends!"
Several minutes later, Sam joined him, jumping off one of the ledges like a mountain goat, "Show off," Nate chuckled and Sam nudged him with his elbow.
They watched James slowly climb down – the old man surprised them both with unexpected agility, but they still helped him make the last fifteen or so feet of the descent by catching him mid-fall as his foot eventually slipped off.
"Well, all right then, we're in," Sam said, looking around. Three bright beams of light cut through the darkness as they turned on their flashlights, "Where to now?"
"I'll show you the way," James stepped forward, but as they walked several paces into the corridor they suddenly came to an abrupt stop.
There was a distant screeching sound. Like claws scraping on metal, but…vocalized? Nate felt his skin crawl and all three of them shared a troubled look.
"Ithink it's better that I go first," Nate suggested with a small infliction in his voice, sliding the Para .45 out of his gun holster and Sam followed suite.
James didn't protest, nor did Nate expect him to. The older man nodded and, as Nate led the way, holding his gun at the ready at every corner and turn, he kept feeling James' gaze on his back. He noticed that gaze earlier. It followed him ever since they left the mansion in Tennessee. It was strange and unsettling, but every time Nate looked back to catch it, the old historian would either drop it with an apologetic smile or would already shift his gaze, even though Nate was sure he stared at him milliseconds earlier.
It was a maze of corridors and turns and at some point Nate was sure they were walking in circles, but when he brought it up, James shook his head with astounding conviction and insisted they were on the right way. He did not refer to a map or any kind of notes. How he managed to remember the path was a mystery to both Nate and Sam.
"Photographic memory," James smiled softly, pointing his finger to his temple.
"How fortunate," Sam commented, while Nate frowned, turning back momentarily.
"So how is that you couldn't recreate the contents of that journal then?" he questioned with suspicion.
"Dyslexia," James explained once again, "I learned to live with it, but memory refuses to capture pages of written word as successfully as simple directions."
They carried on and the unnerving screeching did too. Sometimes it disappeared for longer stretches of time and just as they would start to relax it reappeared somewhere closer and louder, making them nervously look around, guns pointed into darkness.
"So…any idea what the hell is making that noise?" Nate whispered, starting to have flashbacks and not daring to speak any louder, "It's not zombies is it? I hate, hate zombies."
"We heard it when we first discovered the tunnels but we never managed to find the source," James answered, swallowing uneasily and then he added with genuine concern in his voice, "What zombies? Zombies aren't real, are they?"
"You'd be surprised," Nate muttered.
Tiny white specks danced within the beams of the lonely light of their flashlights. Walls of rock glistened with slippery sweat of condensation. Out of the darkness emerged doorways that branched into more passages – some collapsed and buried under rock and dirt, some fully intact. They did not enter any of them. James showed the way, leading them along the course that only he knew, and they followed, hoping that his memory was indeed as good as he said it was.
With his flashlight held right behind the gun, following the direction of the barrel with every move, Nate struggled to find logical explanation to the sounds. Maybe it was just water dripping off the ceiling - accumulating to the point that it crashed down in one mighty splash.
But…too metallic to be water?
DRIP. DRIP.
SCREECH.
"AH!" Nate jumped as something whipped against his leg and he pointed the gun down, "Oh for God's sake, you've got to be kidding me!" he allowed himself a luxury to inhale again, watching a bouncing tail of a big fat rat disappear around the corner.
It was Sam's turn to inhale and he looked at his brother, "Thanks there Nathan, you almost gave me a heart attack!"
"I second that," James agreed, still holding on to the left side of his chest with one hand.
"What can I say - fear has large eyes. And this place sets the mood better than a room full of clowns," Nate chortled joylessly as his eyes ran down the length of the corridor ahead and behind and he tilted his head, "C'mon, let's keep going before that rat's Mama shows up...or whatever is making that noise."
"That would be our luck if it's just rats," Sam muttered, regaining his spot at the end of the chain with his gun at the ready, "my mind was conjuring some pretty nasty visions."
"That way!" James pointed at the right sleeve of the tunnel and his voice was but a shushing whisper, "Quiet now, the room adjoining the main chamber is right behind that wall," he pointed to the dead-end wall at the end of the corridor.
As they reached the wall, James demonstratively moved his finger to his lips and his mouth formed an O as they froze, listening for the presence of voices on the other side of the wall.
"Now what?" Sam whispered when they relaxed.
"And now we just..."
Nate and Sam watched with interest as James begun methodically examining the wall with his flashlight. The older man mumbled incoherently and each move of his fingers was accompanied by the sound of stone sliding against stone.
"…Dazbog…"
Click!
He moved to the other side of the wall.
"…Svarog…"
Rumble, rumble... click!
James crept down, "…Veles…," and the same sequence followed.
In the end he tiptoed up, to the very top of the wall, but could not reach it even standing as tall as the two younger men.
"Why won't one of you give the other a boost boys?" he finally looked at the brothers and they looked at each other with uncertainty of the mission set before them.
"All right," Sam walked over to stand against the wall, "hop on, Nathan, let's see if Elena's cooking added any more rolls to your model's figure."
"Haha, very funny," Nate said, stepping into the prepared lock of Sam's hands, "Actually, interesting piece of trivia – there is this confirmed syndrome when husband gains sympathy weight when his wife is pregnant and it is totally ligit."
"Oh really? Looking for excuse after all?" Sam grunted and leaned forward, shifting some of Nate's body weight onto the wall in front of them, while Nate grasped at the ledge to stay balanced.
"So, what are we looking for in here?" he asked, shining his flashlight at what James was trying to reach earlier.
He saw four small intricate images carved into circular panels in the rock – an eagle, a three headed dragon, a wolf and an anvil engulfed by flames. There was also a stone disc that slightly protruded from the wall and moved easily when Nate tried to spin it.
Watching him from below, James hummed with approval, "That's right, we need to spin the wheel until the representation of Perun is aligned with it."
"Perun? The Slavic god of thunder?" Sam grunted, straining his shoulders under his brother's weight.
"…and the supreme Slavic deity," James added, now shooting a look of approval at Sam.
"And that would be…" Nate's fingers pressed against the wheel until the image of an eagle slid into place, "Bingo" there was a click and a hollow sound of rock dragged against rock. And finally…
Silence.
Sam breathed a sigh of relief and stretched the abused muscles of his arms as Nate's feet touched the floor and they both looked at James.
"So, is that it?" Sam asked, while Nate pulled his journal out and leaned down to closer examine the images as he begun scribbling them down.
"We've got four Slavic deities," James said, observing Nate with sort of amusement as he talked, "Perun, the supreme god - on the top above all else - his counterpart Veles in the form of the three-headed dragon is at the bottom, in the "underworld". Then on the left we've got Svorog – the god of fire – represented by anvil, and his son Dazbog – the god of fortune – in his wolf embodiment on the right. All four gods played a major role in the lives of ancient Slavic tribes, who must have built this ceremonial site. As I've discovered from the journal of one of our "Hyperboreans" there are several sites, each dedicated to a particular god – this one seems to have been built to honor Veles – the god of earth, water and underworld – as we can see from various carvings of dragons, his human depictions, as well as willow trees - one of his symbols."
"…and that his site is located underground," Nate added, putting finishing strokes on the image of dragon in his journal.
"Excellent point," James acknowledged his input with a smile, "Now, we only need to push the wall and…" he put his hand on the wall and immediately it trembled and began sliding up, "Open sesame," he whispered, as the hidden door revealed an opening into a dimly lit room.
Quietly, they crept out of the tunnel and hid behind one of four monumental pillars, which propped the ceiling in a square. The room was empty. On the other side of it, was an arched entrance, leading – from what they could see – into a vast chamber with high ceilings and a pedestal in the middle of the room. A faint breath of fresh air, wafting out of it, hinted the main exit was not far. They heard sounds of footsteps and spotted several men walking about the big room, swaying idly from foot to foot with rifles hanging off their shoulders.
"The main ceremonial chamber," James whispered in the direction of the room, "This is the back, where priests made all necessary preparations."
"Looks like these guys use it more like an office," Sam pointed out papers, books and electronics scattered along the stone benches and makeshift tables made out of stacked supply crates. There, right in the center of the disorganized pile of notes lay what could possibly be…
"It's the journal!" James let out an agitated whisper.
Nate looked around. Even more carefully this time. But there was no one in sight. What an unbelievably, uncharacteristically lucky turn of events!
All of the guards congregated within the main chamber and the journal lay right there - ripe for the taking - within their reach!
"It just can't be that easy," Nate shook his head with uncertainty.
Not with his track record. Something was bound to go wrong.
"Oh, c'mon, what are you talking about?" Sam shrugged nonchalantly and quickly made his way to the "work desk", "at least once things can go smoothly for us," he added in response to Nate's unvoiced thoughts.
Nate and James followed, running toward the column closest to the journal.
They watched as Sam approached the table, threw a measuring look at the scattered notes before dropping it down at the journal. His fingers drew close. They clasped around the leather binding and he turned back triumphantly with his light brown eyes skidding across… their faces; the columns; the secret entrance into the tunnel; the doorway into the main chamber and...
"Intruder! Stop right there!" loud voice pierced the thin shroud of their optimism as one of the guards suddenly appeared around the corner. His gun was pointed at Sam and Sam dashed for the column just in time to dodge the bullet that whistled past his head and into the rock wall behind.
"I knew it, I just knew it," Nate muttered feverishly as bullets chipped away dragon scales off the ornate column.
There was shouting from within the chamber as the whole hive came alive and men ran toward them and reinforcements stomped down the steps into the site drawn by the noise.
With the corner of his eye Nate saw James practically freeze into the column with his hands clutched awkwardly around the gun he clearly had high hopes of not having to use.
They had to run. They had to make it back into the tunnel!
Slowly Nate peered around the column and with a quick steady shot took out the first guard, while another thundering shot from Sam's gun guaranteed them the precious seconds needed to safely reach the tunnel exit.
"Hopefully Ruslan made that rope longer!" Nate noted as they, one by one, scurried into the tunnel.
"Follow me!" James cried out, breaking into a run in front of them, forgetting about caution, forgetting about screeching noises that made them shudder minutes earlier.
What screeching noises?! They didn't even think about them! What hold could they possibly have over them now that they were running for their lives from the confirmed, tangible danger?!
Feet stamping down the narrow passages, with ruckus of pursuit on their tail and occasional sounds of shots being fired, Nate and Sam followed James, who led them on without a moment's hesitation in almost complete darkness with only the dashing light of their flashlights illuminating the winding path. They ran for what seemed like ages. How could it possibly take that long? Did the old man take a wrong turn?! Even one would be enough to get lost in this minotaur's labyrinth!
One thing gave hope - the voices of pursuers behind them grew more distant, with occasion loud screams splitting the heavy dull darkness in random bursts.
Left turn, right turn, straight down and – finally! – they ran full speed into the circular room with the way out shining right above them in the faint light of the rising moon.
"Ruslan!" James cried out as all three of them searchingly looked around for the end of the rope.
But there was none.
The rope was not extended as anticipated, nor was it hanging above them as before. It was gone!
"Ruslan!" Nate shouted out into the night, but, as they waited, straining their ears, a lonely hoot of an owl and a teasing whisper of wind was all they got in return.
"Shit," Sam uttered in conclusion and all three of them shared similarly lost looks.
"What do we do now?" Nate wondered, running his hands over the walls, trying to scope out the possibility of climbing back up. He looked at Sam, seeing reflection of his own thoughts in his eyes – if the two of them could possibly make it, the likelihood of James making it up a thirty-foot stone wall was thinner than slim.
And the man knew it too.
"Where is that guy?!" Sam growled, staring up as he still refused to give up hope.
James looked as if he desperately tried to build a solid explanation, but something didn't quite add up and he gave up trying, his shoulders lowered and he helplessly pursed his lips.
Just then the screeching noise reappeared, jolting them all up against the wall and away from the tunnel entrance. It sounded louder than before and Nate felt hair stand up on the back of his neck. Whatever the hell is it?!
With guns at the ready, they stood frozen, peering through the darkness of the unknown, forced to make better acquaintance with whatever or whoever lurked within the ancient underground site for centuries before they showed up.
SCREECH.
SNAP.
Sound of feet hurrying down the stone floor. Boots?
Nate cocked the trigger and a split-second later a group of armed men ran into the circular opening. Their eyes were wild with primal fear, assault rifles clutched in tight grasp. But it was not them who made Nate's brows shoot up in surprise and his finger take the pressure off the trigger.
A woman in the middle of the formation raised her face to the light. The moon above them illuminated blond hair of her long Dutch braid. Delicate arched brows furrowed, cat-eyes flew wide open and full lips parted in bewilderment equal to Nate's.
"Elise?!" Nate gasped and lowered his gun.
It was a dead-end for both parties involved.
While Elise and her men were lost within the labyrinth, having no idea how to get back into the main chamber – Nate, Sam and James knew the way (or at least James did), had the journal they came for, but had no way to escape with it.
Everyone was on edge and not one of them had any interest in wandering the dark passages longer than was necessary to leave them.
So they struck a deal. With the only bargaining chip Nate and his companions had at their disposal – they were going to lead Elise and her men out of the tunnel and, in return, Elise would let them go free, provided they leave the journal behind. It wasn't the best kind of deal, but it was satisfactory. Considering the sheer lack of alternatives.
Besides, Nate wasn't keen on the idea of harming Elise and she seemed to be of the same opinion as she immediately ordered her men to lower their guns as soon as she recognized him.
As they (yet again) followed James through the tunnel with their guns at the ready, Nate kept feeling Sam's curious glances – on Elise (and her skin-tight black leather pants), on Nate and back – but there was no room for them to talk, so Sam's curiosity had to stay unsatisfied for the time being.
Elise and her men seemed particularly paranoid, responding to every small sound with exaggerated zeal, their eyes and rifle points darting briskly at every intersection, but revealing nothing but darkness.
Carefully, cautiously, under vigilant eyes of her goons, Nate caught up with Elise and tried to strike a conversation. How did she end up here? How is she involved in this mess to begin with?!
The memory of a refined beautiful girl, sipping on Cosmopolitan, he met in one of London's pubs once did not fit in with the current image of a ferocious gang leader he found himself looking at. Guns? Mercs? Nate glanced at one of the goons carrying a massive weapon strapped over his shoulder. RPGs? Ridiculous!
"Elise," he started, but with another distant screech and a fearful look of warning on her face, Nate was clearly discouraged from raising his voice, but…,"I just wanted to make sure your men do know not to use the RPG in here…in close quarters…underground?" he couldn't help but add before heeding a clearly sound idea of shutting his mouth.
There was light at the end of the tunnel. A literal bright light of electric lamps seeping through the open doorway and around silhouettes of men blocking it.
"Nate what is your last name?"
Nate turned his head at the soft quiet voice. Elise was looking at him, waiting for his response. It was the first time she really spoke to him – the discussion they had when they clashed into each other was dry and business-like, albeit a bit choked up as they were both shocked to not only meet each other again, but to meet each other again there, of all places.
"Nathan Drake," Nate said.
Thin brow arched - Elise received confirmation to the suspicions she had been mulling over the entire time.
"I see."
"What's going on Elise? What are you doing here?!" Nate rushed to gain in on her willingness to talk before they reached the exit where more goons were standing.
"We're looking for the Hourglass," Elise said with meaning, "same thing you're looking for it seems."
"We? Who is we?"
Several paces in front of them, one man detached from the rest. He stepped forward. Dressed in a suite he stood out against the backdrop of firearms and body armor.
"Here's your answer, Nate. Meet Leonidas Gataki. My ex-husband. And business partner."
In part, Nate felt disappointed that their plan of securing the journal did not involve sneaking through the main chamber. It would make things more complicated, yes, but the history fanatic in him was curious to examine it. If only with a passing glimpse.
Wishes do come true.
Nate, Sam and James were lined up in the middle of the main chamber in front of their captors.
Giant pillars etched with inscriptions propped the room; brightly colored images of Slavic gods adorned the walls; golden bands of some kind of mechanism were built into the rock floor - the bands closer to the middle of the room (where a tall curved pedestal stood) were small, but the axiis of others expanded proportionally further out, the more away they lay from the center. The farthest one of them reached into one of the walls, on which gold accents formed a doorway-looking arch. But there was no doorway - only a smooth rock wall, which stood out with its bare blankness.
There seemed to be a going theme of three-headed dragons prevailing in all those depictions, inscriptions and etchings and Nate wondered what could make the mechanism work and what that mechanism was actually for.
"Veles in all his glory," James commented, as he watched Nate look up and around in awe. A glint of understanding shone in the older man's eyes.
If not for the precarious nature of their situation, Nate would drop everything to just walk around the chamber – touching, sketching, absorbing.
But…
Leonidas Gataki leaned his elbows on the pedestal in front of them with a look of an educator observing three rebellious kids fallen under his care. He was a bolding man somewhere in his forties. With his pale face, his frail physique, he looked like he could easily be swept away by an especially strong gust of wind, but his lively intelligent eyes revealed quick wit and aged sarcasm. He was also by far not as accommodating and considerate as his ex-wife was.
Immediately, with a snap of a finger, he had ordered Nate, Sam and James tackled and their hands tied behind their backs in the least lenient manner.
Elise protested, she showed him the journal, she yelled and argued, she even stomped her foot in demonstration of complete indignation at this sheer disregard for her authority – she argued until she practically choked on words and quick English speech seamlessly morphed into an even quicker tirade in French.
It did not phase Leonidas.
Not one single bit. In fact, he seemed completely used to it.
"I did not promise to let them go. And I'm the head figure in this venture, Elise. You know it, I know it. Now they know it too. So quit your nagging darling," he nonchalantly put an end to the complaining as he stood in front of his captives who were lined up in the middle of the main chamber.
Nate wiggled his hands, demonstratively exaggerating the discomfort of being tied down.
When the mercs were binding his hands, he strained his muscles, so that when they finished and he relaxed, he won himself precious room for movement.
He used this room carefully now…feeling for a small folded knife in the back pocket of his jeans. Very slowly…very carefully…
"Well, well, well," Leonidas said, tapping his forefinger over his mouth thoughtfully until it slowly pointed at James, "I think I remember you from before. Aren't you the scientist who was here before we took over?" he asked with a transparent greek accent, but did not care to wait for answer, "It is funny to see you group of infiltrators in here sneaking in from right under our noses," he chuckled, scratching his forehead in mock amusement, "How convenient – a secret underground passage!"
"It is more like a labyrinth Leonidas," Elise corrected him darkly. She had been standing several paces to the side, wearing a killer look of offended dignity, which she clearly struggled to keep up, as her anger reached a point of spilling over again, "We should close up the entrance. If you were a bit more courteous with these guys, they'd probably tell you how! There is something inside those tunnels, something alive!" she exclaimed heatedly and a large number of goons nodded passionately in confirmation to her words.
Leonidas rolled his eyes, warmed up his neck. Lazily, condescendingly – like a cat.
"Where are the bodies Elise?" he rubbed his eye with benevolent annoyance, "You all just got spooked by each other in the darkness and the rest of the men are simply wandering the tunnels, still looking for a way out," he concluded.
"Bullshit!" Elise spat the word, her eyes flaring sparklers, "How about you go in there and check?!"
Leonidas did not care to answer, he just gave Elise a long look that could mean many things, but mainly boredom.
"We'll come back to that darling," he said calmly and turned back to the captives, "Now…who do I owe the pleasure of my wife so fiercely trying to break free?"
"Ex-wife," Elise inserted resentfully, but Leonidas didn't bat an eye. He looked shrewdly from Nate to Sam and back.
"Look, it doesn't matter all right," Nate said. He already got the knife and now worked on discreetly sliding the blade out, "Elise and I had a deal, she promised we'll be free to leave. You got your journal back, what else do you need?"
"Ah, a man who goes straight to the point – that's you and me both…ehm, what's your name again?"
"Nathan. Nathan Drake," Nate said firmly.
Leonidas' expression changed. His brow quivered ever so slightly. And the look in his eyes changed to that of slight concern and even a degree of respect.
"Nathan. Drake.," he repeated gravely, "I've heard about you."
"And Sam Drake – more handsome, less famous older brother," Sam interjected, "since we're making introductions here."
"A-ha…very interesting," Leonidas rubbed his jawline. Then with one motion he produced a small revolver from out of the pocket of his impeccably tailored suit jacket.
"Leonidas…what are you doing?" Elise asked slowly as she watched him.
Leonidas did not answer. He walked over to Nate. He put the barrel of the revolver against Nate's temple. Nate flinched. He tried to get up to his feet, but a heavy hand of one of the guards pressed down on his shoulder.
"What the-?" Nate twisted and turned under the grasp. Is it his luck that he happened to come upon another psycho again? What forced him to reveal his name to this guy?! His pride? Probably.
"Hey, get your hands off him!" Sam screamed, writhing helplessly, but there wasn't much he could do.
In the end, Nate froze, "If I were you I wouldn't want to mess up that fancy suit of yours with blood splatters," he suggested. The blade of his pocket knife just sheared through the last fiber of the rope and the only way the rope still held his hands together was because he was holding it in place.
Slowly…. Carefully…
Nate turned the blade over and prepared to strike as Leonidas cocked the trigger.
"No, please don't do this, leave him alone!" Elise cried.
Pressure of the barrel released from Nate's temple. With a chuckle Leonidas walked away and faced his ex-wife. He shook the revolver in his hand and then tossed it shortly in the air before sliding it down on the pedestal next to the journal. Elise watched him with shock written all over her pretty face.
"And you told me you never cheated on me," he chuckled again and then looked at Nate, "You two know each other, don't you?! I sensed there was something…personal between you two as soon as I saw you walking out of the tunnel, whispering head to head."
Elise glanced hesitantly at the mercenaries all around them, clearly unwilling to discuss her personal life in front of subordinates.
"Look," Nate said tiredly, looking eye to eye with Leonidas. His heart still resounded in his ears, "I'm happily married, all right? I met your wife-"
"Ex-wife," Elise corrected weakly.
"…ex-wife- I met her in a pub long time ago, it was nothing, we just talked," he explained patiently. He would probably have to explain this one to Elena too, so he better start polishing the story now, "And that's the end of it! I have no clue how Elise is involved in this, she was just a girl in a bar, ok?" he finished defensively, just in case the guy still harbored remains of seasoned jealousy, "Now can we go?"
Leonidas ignored his question. He looked at Elise and clicked his tongue, "Elise, Elise, Elise, my beautiful fickle bird of paradise," he turned to his captives again, "From what I heard about you Nathan Drake, something is telling me we're in it for a long haul. So let me clear things out for all of you – I want everybody to know where we're standing. I am looking for Hyperborea. Since you are here, you seem to be looking for it too. Elise here, "he pointed at his ex-wife, "thought herself smarter than me and tried to snatch not one, but several of my companies, for herself during our divorce," his face turned smug, "Joke is on her, because she didn't know that those subsidiary companies were created solely for tax evasion purposes and didn't actually hold much value…"
With a corner of his ear Nate heard faint scratching, screeching. Some of the men tensed up, others were too immersed in the real-time drama happening in the middle of the chamber to notice anything, while Leonidas rolled on with his monologue.
"…so she ended up becoming a proud owner of basically an employee list of mercenaries with limited funds in business bank accounts and several warehouses of vehicles and ammunition. And then she discovered what my real occupation has been all these years! And now she is forced to work with me. Why, you'd ask?" Leonidas continued, pacing like a peacock with fanned tail feathers, "Because I hold her freedom over her now – without me, she won't have a penny to her name, but what's worse – I have papers that could land her lovely behindin prison for decades!"
There was a pause. Nate thought he noticed a dark shadow of something creeping up one of the pillars behind the goon with an RPG. When he looked more closely, something long and dark, like a tail, recoiled and disappeared behind the column. He gulped a lump in his throat and tightened his fingers around the pocket knife.
"…and that is why," Leonidas concluded triumphantly, "Elise is now stuck with me. She clearly didn't see it coming, didn't you my dear?" he glanced at Elise and she held his gaze with eyes full of burning hatred. If looks could kill, Leonidas would already be laying breathless on the floor, "That's what happens when you marry someone for their money," he instead explained to her and everyone around, "What poetic justice!"
The shadow Nate noticed earlier ascended to the top of the ceiling. It begun quickly moving toward the center of the room.
Leonidas turned to his captives.
"You, gentlemen, will have to tag along with me now. FIRSTorder of business is telling me what you know about the Hourglass and how to get to Hyperborea and then…"
Leonidas didn't finish. He gasped and disappeared under the whirlwind of feathers and violently beating whip of a tail. His revolver hit the floor, knocked off the pedestal in the fray of the attack. Panic spread among the armed men. They pointed their guns at the creature, but hesitated to shoot and hit their boss.
A loud gunshot came from under the creature. Then came several more. The beast's screeching filled the room – the high, almost ultrasound pitch made everyone wince. The creature's body went limp. Pushed off, it fell to the floor in a lifeless heap. From under it, emerged Leonidas – his suit sheared to shreds, face and all exposed skin covered in long shallow scratches seeping with droplets of blood, revolver wafting a thin spiral of smoke into the air.
He kicked his attacker and it rolled onto its back.
In horror mixed with curiosity, Nate leaned closer.
A long leathery body with long spear-like tail was covered in feathers. Two wings with a span of six feet each lay stiff spotted with gunshot wounds with one lethal wound glistening with blood on the creature's curved chest. A mohawk of feathers stood tall above the head, gradually morphing into a long mane of dark hair that framed an angelic feminine face.
"What the hell…," Sam gasped, voicing everybody's reaction.
"A harpy!" James exclaimed.
"A dead harpy," Leonidas spat at the body, still breathing heavily from the fight.
"Now do you believe me?!" Elise shouted, taking her hand off her mouth as she recovered from the shock.
Nate dragged his eyes from the pale human arms that extended from above the creature's wings. A noise of hundreds of creeping mice swarmed all around them, intensifying as it came from the room behind the main chamber where the entrance into the tunnels was.
Dozens of similar creatures with feathers and hair of all colors and shades scaled up the walls, eyes sparkling wickedly on their beautiful faces. Drumroll of gunfire сhipped at the ceiling and the harpies hissed, dropping down in a hailstorm of claws and fangs.
A/N: Well, this took a while to come out, but here we are!
Elise is a character first introduced in Chapter 1 of my other fic - "Choose what you keep".
Wishing everybody a nice weekend ahead and I'll do my best to post more often.