Kate covered her face. “We’ve been walking on them. How many are locked in like this?”
“For the love of God, close it.” Malcolm slid the toe of his boot under the hatch and kicked it over shut. A faint mewling started from underneath. Malcolm thrust the bolt home with his foot and turned away, grim and pale. “There’s nothing we can do for it. Let’s move on.”
Simon pulled the carpet back into place with a sad grunt of resignation. He put a hand on Kate’s back and they started after the Scotsman. “I’ve never seen anything like this. I never wanted to.”
Kate took a shuddering breath. “What horrors did Imogen experience in here?”
Simon didn’t respond except to tighten a comforting hand on her arm.
They approached an iron gate that separated the galleries, the curables from the criminals. Kate saw his lips move silently and he laid his hands on the bars. With another muscular pull, the bars creaked apart. This time Malcolm didn’t bat an eye but walked through quickly with his long blade out. Kate followed and Simon stepped through before bending the bars back into place.
A change in temperature made Kate shiver. The stark stone floor and ceiling of plate iron could account for it. There were no fireplaces or vents, and the cold seeped up from the floor. Her feet were like ice blocks in minutes.
The lighting became nonexistent. Simon’s candle was a poor replacement for gas lamps, but Kate was grateful for anything to hold the shadows at bay. She kept a hand in her pocket, holding a vial. It gave her fortitude.
A moan abruptly intensified into a scream, then subsided into sobs. Shadows shifted against the walls as they went down the corridor past doors, some of which were open. Her eyes darted left and right, trying to focus on the movement. But the darkness beyond the candle’s glow was too deep. Dust and debris she’d rather not name littered the corners. A stench that threatened to make her gag was building in her nose. Human waste and, God help her, the smell of rotting meat.
Her foot slipped on something and she looked down. She stared at the slick spot on the floor. Kneeling, she ran a finger over the substance. The hair on Kate’s arms rose. “Simon,” she hissed.
“What?”
Malcolm turned with him. They were already nine yards farther down the corridor than Kate. An expression of shock crossed his features as he looked up at the ceiling. His knife rose in a swift jerk.
Before she could utter another word, something heavy dropped on her. Cold, slime-covered appendages wrapped around her shoulders, pinning her arms and knocking her off balance. With amazing speed, she was dragged toward an open cell and pulled inside as if she were an escaped inmate.
Even though her upper arms were trapped, Kate had enough freedom to draw a small dagger from her belt. With a Herculean effort, she dug it deep into the chest of the homunculus. It reacted violently, rearing back and flailing uncontrollably. The homunculus released Kate but its eyestalks shifted left and right as Simon and Malcolm darted into the cell.
It ran at the men. The creature screamed as Malcolm’s blade flashed and cut off an eyestalk. Its long arms struck at Malcolm, slamming him to the side as it vaulted up to the ceiling. Simon grabbed its leg and yanked it back down hard, smashing it onto the floor.
Kate scrambled out of the way, but then hands tangled in her hair and yanked her backward. The grating of rusting chains filled her ears as something dragged her off her feet. Simon took a step toward her, but the homunculus rolled to its feet and jumped on his back. He was borne to the ground roughly as the creature pounded his head and shoulders.
Malcolm ran past Simon and swung his long-bladed knife above Kate’s head. There was a strangled shriek and the grip on her body eased. Malcolm lifted her by the arm, pulling her back toward the door in the same motion. A chain snapped taut behind her and snarling followed.