“After they broke up, Da went back up into the mountains, back to his people. I stayed with Mom. She accepts me for who I am. She’s never once said she was disappointed in me. But Da, he’s another matter. I was too short, too weak, too soft-hearted, too much like a human. I haven’t seen him in over a hundred years.”
I clapped Viktor on the back, feeling an odd camaraderie with him. “He’s the one who’s missing out, Viktor.”
“Call me Vik, all my friends do.” He pointed down the main corridor leading to the west. “There, we need to go down that way.”
The Viaduct Market was awash with customers and clients, bustling like a street fair. The stalls were filled with fresh spring vegetables—lettuce and radishes, carrots and early greens. Large vases held dozens of daffodils and tulips, a veritable array of spring colors blazing through the building. The smells of smoked meat and hot sandwiches filled the air, and I wished we had waited to eat lunch. The food courts were astounding. The fish market hadn’t changed much, still boasting fresh fish right off the docks. My mouth began to water, even though I wasn’t hungry. We passed a fortuneteller’s stall, the woman reading cards for someone who was crying on the other side of the table. I glanced at a tattoo studio.
“Everybody always thought my mark was a tattoo,” I said.
Vik laughed. “Trust me, you’re going to have an actual one sooner than you think.” He pulled up his sleeve and showed me an intricate tattoo of a dagger with vines around it. “Everybody who works for Herne gets marked with this tattoo. It identifies us to anybody who might question our right to be where we are. Especially your people.”
“They’re not my people. I may carry their blood in my veins, but they disowned me.”
I took a long look at his tattoo. It was pretty, I had to admit. The thought of being marked as somebody’s property—that’s what it felt this was—didn’t set well, but I’d already crossed that bridge and burned it to the ground. Apparently I had been born for this, and marked at birth by Cernunnos.
We wound our way through the stalls, assaulted by the clamor and smells of the market, until we came to the west wing exit. I looked around.
“So where’s the entrance to the catacombs?”
Vik smiled and pointed toward the floor. “We have to go down for that.”
And with that, he pushed open the janitor’s door, and motioned for me to follow him. I frowned as we entered the closet. I didn’t see a staircase, just buckets of bleach, and floor wash, and mops and brooms and all sorts of maintenance tools.
“So where are the stairs?”
Vik reached up and pulled the chain on an overhead light. As a cold fluorescent light filled the room, he led me toward one of the side walls. Once there, he slipped his finger through a hook on the wall and pulled. There was a groaning sound and a panel began to slide back on the opposite wall. I turned quickly, expecting somebody to be there waiting, but there was only a dim light in the recessed alcove. As I peeked in, I saw that the narrow nook was basically a landing, leading to a very steep spiral staircase. I shuddered when I realized it was wrought iron.
“I’m going to need some gloves before heading down that staircase.”
He gave him a puzzled look.
“I’m Fae.”
He still looked bewildered.
“Cast iron and wrought iron? We don’t get along so well.”
A look of understanding swept over his face. “Oh that’s right. Hold on, I’ll get you something to wear.” He slipped back into the closet and returned, carrying a pair of heavy work gloves. They swamped my hands but at least they would protect me from the feel of the iron. It set me ajar, still, to be so close to the metal, but I’d be all right as long as I didn’t touch it with bare fingers. If I stayed too long on the staircase I’d end up with a massive headache, but if we weren’t on it more than a few minutes, I’d be all right. The animosity between iron and Fae was often overexaggerated, but it was based on fact. The elementals belonging to the iron ore had a grudge match with us, while the silver elementals actually liked us.
“Ready?”
I nodded. “They actually discovered the bodies down here?”
Vik shook his head. “No, but we’re headed to where they did. I know where the entrance is located, but Herne wanted us to trace the route and see if we find anything along the way, which is why we’re taking the long way around. Come on, let’s move.” And with that, he started down the staircase. “Shut the door behind you. There’s enough light to see by here.”
Not exactly jumping for joy, I shut the door behind me and followed him onto the staircase.
Chapter 7
AS WE DESCENDED into the belly of the market, it occurred to me there was a great deal about the city that I didn’t know. I had considered myself well versed in Seattle’s history, but apparently there were gaps in my studies and I was woefully lacking.
The shaft was massively tall, and the stairs seemed to run both all the way down to the bottom and all the way up to the top of the market. The market was five stories high from the ground level, and how far it extended below street level I had no clue.
“Who built this access passage? It seems extremely well hidden.” We had already descended past three doors leading onto other levels. The shaft itself was about six feet in diameter, just big enough for the staircase. It was dimly lit by amber-colored lights that seemed to spaced every ten feet or so along the walls of the shaft.
Vik gave a little shrug. “I don’t know, but it’s hidden for a reason. From what I was told, there are several other shafts like this, one in each wing. I believe they were built as a way to evacuate people to safety in case of a mass attack. You know, back in the day when it was considered hunky-dory for the average citizen to own an AK-47. I don’t know what use they have for these now, but when you think about it, it’s an uncongested way to get from level to level. For maintenance men and the like. We just passed the bottom level, at least as far as customers are concerned.”
Two more levels took us to the bottom of the shaft. Which meant we were two stories belowground. Vik nodded to the heavy metal door in front of us. A keypad was flush to the wall next to the door, and I realized it was a code lock.
“Do you have the code to get through here?”
“Yeah. Thing is, it’s not locked to keep people from exiting the market. It’s to prevent unwanted visitors from entering from the catacombs.” He paused, then added, “In case you need to get back through here in a hurry and something’s happened to me, the code is 45723. Repeat that, please.”
“457…23. I may not have a photographic memory, but when my life depends on it I tend to remember what I need to.” Until now, I hadn’t been nervous. However, the realization that the door was locked keep things out rather than in was unsettling.
Vik punched in the code and the door softly clicked, opening to his touch. I wasn’t sure what I had expected, but it hadn’t been a smooth hallway, lit with more of the amber lights. As we passed through and the door closed behind us, locking once more, he pointed to where the keypad was on the inner side.
“Give me the code again.”
I was grateful that he was concerned for my safety. “45723.”
“Good, you’ve got it. Have you ever encountered a vampire before? I know that may seem like a ridiculous question. Most everybody has, even if they don’t realize it, but I need to know if you’ve ever had any interaction with them. We’re down here in their territory. I don’t want any trouble if we can avoid it.”
I thought back, trying to remember whether I had ever had dealings with any vampires. I tended to steer clear of the undead. It was generally a good idea. After a moment, I shook my head.