Page 40 of Spectral Seas (Spectral Worlds #2)

A BBY FOUND THE metal door at the end of the cellblock warm to the touch. He gently pulled its lever upward. CLINK. The door popped open inward, away from him. A stale wave of heat and moisture seeped out from the other side. Abby engaged the tactical overlays of his optical implants, then pushed the door fully open. Behind it was an empty, narrow hall walled with the same sterile granite slabs as the exterior, and at the far end, another solid metal door. The distance meter in the corner of Abby’s eye read twenty meters. He sucked in a breath and pressed forward, the Umbra and Lupo wolfpack filing in behind him. Windowed metal doors were spaced intermittently down the hallway, and as Abby passed, his optical augments overlaid the interiors, each an empty cell identical to the one before, with the exception of the last two, each on either side of the metal door at the end of the hall.

The last room to the right was a simple kitchen, its back wall a glass doored cabinet shelved with crates of blue produce, and before it, a large metal preparation table with rows of stacked trays beneath.

The room to his left was another empty cell, slightly larger than the others in the hall, with three bunks and a table.

“The jailer’s quarters,” said Xander.

“How can you tell?” asked Leta.

Xander gestured toward the table. “The lamp, the communication device,” he said. “And the stench.”

Abby nodded toward the metal door before them. “They’re still at prayer,” he said, then reached for the handle. CLINK . It too was unlocked. Abby gently pushed it open. A large blue sconce burned before him lighting a descending spiral stair at his feet.

Without hesitation, Abby led the group down, Xander a step behind him, followed by the Umbra and then the company of Lupo.

The thick spiraling stone steps were smoothly valleyed from eons of use. They were set between the round walls of the shaft and a stone column at is center, so there was no clear view down the depths, only the repetition of blue burning sconces above the curving descent, and with every rhythmic footfall, boot or paw, the shadows of their descending column danced large against the curved blue hued rock.

Abby found himself gaining pace, the rush of those at his back propelling him forward, and soon he was in a near jog. Minutes passed as they continued their descent down the deep shaft, five, then ten. The negative counter of the altimeter readout on Abby’s augment had ceased to read correctly. It flashed between calculations then zeroed out altogether leaving only the count of his steps in the lower corner of his sightline as reference. It was near seven hundred when the soft patter of footfalls was interrupted by a long shrill scream from below.

The company froze.

Xander, a mere two steps above, placed his long-clawed hand firmly onto Abby’s shoulder. “Be careful,” he whispered. “The reptoid’s senses are keen. If we’re close enough to hear them, then they’re close enough to taste our approach.”

Abby looked back to Xander, then to the Umbra behind him and said, “Let’s shift spectrum out of the reptoids’ sensory range.”

Lena and Soren returned a subtle nod.

Then to Xander he said, “Give us a count to three hundred before heading down.”

“Understood,” said Xander.

Lena and Soren dematerialized, then Abby tensed his temporal muscle to engage a diatomic flop and do the same.

DMT flooded his cortex, and a quiver ran down his spine, followed by a wave of euphoria. Then a jarring acuity. The peripheral of his vision warped to a fish eyed focus, bright fuchsia halos appeared around the blue flamed sconces.

There was another shrill scream and beneath it the dull chortle of a throat chant.

Leta and Soren stepped down to join Abby while the wolfmen on the stairs behind frantically sniffed in search of the vanished three. Xander raised his hand to quiet them, then he too peered into the direction of where Abby and the two had been visible to him a moment before. His muzzle scrunched as he attempted to seek them out.

Abby fought the disorientation the shift imposed upon him. With each step a sinking sponge, he continued down the stairs. Though the spectral shift hid them from sight, it did nothing for the radical increase of heat and humidity. As they descended toward the shafts lowest point, their clothes became soaked, breathing was short and shallow, and with each step the chants and screams grew louder. The sulphur that permeated the tunnels since their arrival intensified, burned deep into the inside of Abby’s nose, coated his tongue, and bit at the back of his throat. By the time they reached the bottom of the stairwell, his lungs were on fire.

~*~