Gretta snarled, “You said—”
“I lied! Now, release her. I have more interesting plans for our little Imogen. I’m sure Kate will find my procedure quite fascinating to watch, won’t you?”
Kate remained stock-still in her chair as Gretta raged, smashing a metal cabinet with a single blow. Her growl was a monstrous echo.
“Enough, Gretta,” White rebuked. “You will have ample throats to rip soon enough.”
The werewolf gripped her axe, and for a moment it looked like she would behead the doctor. Instead, she stalked out like a gigantic, petulant child.
“Forgive me, Imogen,” Kate gasped out. “I don’t have what they want. Please forgive me.”
“I do,” was her sister’s soft reply. “As you have always forgiven me.”
And Kate wept.
Chapter Twenty-eight
Simon and his companions found an entrance to the underground at Kennington. It was a black maw that reeked of the waste and the garbage that had fed into it over the many years. The subterranean world bade them enter, eager for more souls to get lost within its chambers and tunnels. Simon knew they had no choice but to obey. A gentle flow of stinking water lapped at their boots. It was what was left of the River Effra. They followed its path into the dark hole, sloping downward into the infernal bowels of the city. Rats and insects scurried aside at their intrusion. A filthy cat arched its back and hissed before darting farther into the tunnel.
The moonlight behind them fled and the darkness ahead was a stygian blackness. The noise of the city faded. What remained were sounds like no other that echoed about the stone walls; from the steady dripping of moisture all around them, to the insistent scratching of rats in the shadows, to the mournful bellow of wind.
Simon lit a lantern, illuminating grime-covered stone glistening in the new light. They followed the tunnel north several hundred yards and soon reached a junction that opened wide with brick columns and a multitude of arches leading to new tunnels running off in different directions. They continued north. The surroundings were shapeless and monochrome in the murky gloom. Diminutive, beady eyes reflected in the lanternlight for brief instances, then turned away to flee to safer, less-traveled areas.
“How are we going to find our way down here?” Malcolm asked. “Do you know it runs under Bedlam?”
“I think so,” Nick replied. “Some years back, the Bedlam cellars flooded from beneath.”
“It’s utterly foul,” gasped Penny, holding a sleeve over her face.
Simon’s footing slipped and he put out a hand against the wall but instantly regretted it. A slick residue coated the bricks, discoloring them from a onetime red to an ocher yellow. Raw sewage most likely. The walls sweated moisture as if in a fever, and the floor reflected back their lights, blinding them if they didn’t keep their eyes ahead. Their splashing was a loud and raucous thing, but it couldn’t be helped. A slick of scummy water coated the ground. The water had rotted through anything that was not stone or iron. Flotsam practically disintegrated when they stepped through it.
Nick tapped Simon’s shoulder and gestured toward a new archway veering east. Simon nodded and turned into the suggested tunnel, keeping a keen ear cocked for anything out of the ordinary. He wasn’t worried about the odd criminal or swarm of rats; far more dangerous things might await them in the dark. If they encountered resistance, not a single enemy could escape to raise the alarm. All of them knew the stakes and were prepared to do what they must.
Suddenly there came the faintest of sounds, an insistent scratching as if a bored child dragged a stick along the stones. The noise echoed in the passageway ahead of them. Malcolm crept forward, Simon on his heels. Penny came after with Nick and Hogarth now bringing up the rear. The scratching ceased abruptly as they reached another crossroads.
Simon scanned with a light. Four black-browed arches provided choices of direction, but the tunnel straight across led northeastward. Water seeped from the vaulted walls in a trickle in some places, in others as a torrent. It flowed into a wide dark pool in the center of the arches. He tested the depth with his cane, measuring it about three feet deep. He shrugged. They had little choice but to cross the thirty or so yards of water.