Viktor parked the van, and we climbed out the rear door. When Claude jumped out, the van practically bounced with relief.
“Pair up,” Viktor said.
Christian stepped out and breezed by me. “I go solo.”
Viktor pointed at Shepherd. “You’re with Raven. Keep an eye on her.”
The team scattered in different directions, some walking up the dark street and others skulking in the shadows. Shepherd and I stopped by a square-shaped manhole cover in an alley that I recognized as one leading to the underground tunnels. Most of the street covers had been sealed up over the years, but usually the ones that were forgotten were located in alleyways.
Shepherd set down a cloth tool bag and tire iron. The manhole was large enough that I could easily slip through, but I made a skeptical appraisal of Shepherd’s V-shaped body and broad shoulders.
He ran his hand around the square cover. “It’s not bolted.”
“Hurry up,” I whispered.
He glared. “Feel free to lend a hand. This thing weighs more than you.”
Shepherd used the tire iron to pry open the lid and drag it aside. Then he rose to his feet and gaped down at the black hole. “I’m not sure I can fit in there.”
I clapped my hand on his shoulder. “Of course you can. I’ll go first, and if you get stuck, I’ll just tug on your legs until something pops.”
“Get in before I change my mind.”
I sat on the edge with my legs hanging down, pushing away thoughts of flesh-eating monsters that would devour me. I lowered myself, gripping the edge and then dropping to the lower level.
Grit and dust covered the concrete floor, and when I switched on my flashlight, it revealed a dark tunnel with a curved ceiling. A few rats screeched and scurried into the shadows.
Shepherd sat down with his legs dangling, and when he tried to lower himself, he got stuck. After a few curse words, he slipped one arm through the hole and then hung suspended for a brief moment before he fell onto his back. Sweat glistened on his forehead, and he stared warily at the tiny eyes glowing in the darkness before scrambling to his feet.
“Don’t you need the tire iron?”
“Not from inside,” he said, glancing at our surroundings. “I don’t feel good about this tunnel situation.”
“It’s not so bad. A few drapes, a pretty vase…”
He ran his hand across his bristly hair. “You don’t need to tell me if anyone’s coming at us. I can usually feel the emotional spike. Sharpen your light and rely on your senses. If anyone approaches, use your night vision to see if they’re armed. Got it?”
“Where’s Wyatt? I thought you two always partnered up.”
“He’s probably with Christian. Wyatt doesn’t carry weapons. That’s not his job when we go on these assignments. He stays out of the action, so he needs the most protection.”
We moved north, my flashlight flooding the ground ahead of us. “Maybe Viktor should have partnered them to begin with.”
Shepherd spat out a curse when he stepped over a rat. “Wyatt and I work together searching through evidence. Mostly I just protect his ass until he gets the job done, but sometimes he needs me to pick up emotional imprints on documents to find out what’s important.”
Shepherd had packed a knife but no guns since they would draw attention in the city. A guy like Shepherd didn’t need a weapon with arms like those.
“How do you know we’re going the right way?” he asked.
“I have a good sense of direction. After a few years living on the streets, I got into a habit of counting my steps, and I know how many it takes to cross a street or pass a building. Right now we’re passing the bookstore. I know where we’re going and how far it is from here, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Ah. So you’re like a little Rain Man.”
I smiled and looked up at him. “I think this is the first time I’ve heard you utter more than two sentences. You’re a quiet guy.”
“Don’t have much to say.”
I shone the light in his face. “Really? Because usually those are the people with the most going on in their head.”
He winced and knocked my hand away. “Get that light off me.”
Even though I tried to play it off like he didn’t scare me, Shepherd was an intimidating man. He reminded me of some of the tough guys my father used to hang around with at the biker bars, and not all of them were teddy bears. Some of those men had done hard time and were broken beyond repair—to the point where doing bad things gave them a thrill. It made me wonder how a Sensor—who could feel people’s fear, love, anger, and sorrow—could be so apathetic.
I increased the distance between us, keeping my hand on the dagger strapped to my thigh. For all I knew, Viktor had given him a special order to dispose of me when this was all finished.
“This is it,” I whispered, looking up at a pocket of light that seeped through a small hole in the cover above us.