LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

      “The ideal time for a surprise attack is under cover of darkness, when the brothel’s activities will be in full swing. That’s when we’ll take the place. But for now we want to reconnoiter and get an idea of what we’re up against. This is the best time to do it. They won’t be on their guard and we can get an idea of what sort of security they have in place.”

      The site of the brothel was in the medieval Gothic quarter of the city in a cloistered placa, or square, dating back to the days of the Inquisition. It was like stepping back in time. Once they were within the decorative tiled walls, it had the feel of a country village with geese and ducks wandering freely and vines rambling wild. The vast city might have been a million miles away. Tanzi, still adjusting to the difference between her mystical Otherworld home and the harsh realities of the mortal realm, was thrust slightly off balance by another change of scene. They hung back in a side alley, surveying the placa.

      “They chose this for the location of such debauchery?” Iago cast a disbelieving glance around at the peaceful setting.

      “That building was an Inquisition torture chamber.” Lorcan’s face was grim as he pointed to a Gothic structure with curved walls and high, arched slits in place of windows. “Many of the original features have been preserved.”

      Everyone fell silent as they contemplated the building and the implication of Lorcan’s words. It was Aydan who broke the silence. “What do we do now? We can’t go and knock on the door, can we?”

      “There isn’t a door,” Tanzi pointed out. It was only when they all turned to stare at her that she realized she had spoken aloud.

      “Found your voice?” Lisbet’s eyes narrowed into suspicious slits.

      “Pedro has plans of most of the old areas of the city. There are two underground entrances to this building. One is through another placa to the rear of the building. That is the one the sidhes currently use. The other is through an underground crypt in the cloisters over there.” Lorcan pointed. “The inquisitors took their victims straight from the altar to the torture chamber.”

      “It strikes me as odd.” Iago viewed the strange structure again. “Surely the point of running a brothel is to make money? Isn’t the fact that there is no obvious way of getting into it something of a disadvantage from a business point of view?”

      “On the contrary,” Lorcan responded. “The exclusivity of this place is its selling point. Passing trade would be a hazard. And let’s not forget Moncoya’s human guise. He is the mortal realm’s electronics virtuoso, internet supremo, master of the dark web. Those mortals who want to know what is offered here—so long as they can pay the going rate, of course—will learn of it. There is no need to tout for trade.”

      Tanzi shuddered. How little she had known of the man whose genes she shared. And yet she never doubted that Lorcan was speaking the truth about her father. She accepted Moncoya’s ability to lead a double life as readily as she accepted his evil tendencies. Perhaps she was more like him than she cared to believe. She was hiding her true personality from these people, after all, and doing it very effectively. I am not evil. Please let me not have inherited his destructive traits. She shivered again at the thought.

      Lorcan, sensing the movement, glanced down at her. “You okay with this?” His voice was low enough for her ears alone. “You don’t have to do it.”

      “You will never know how much I do.”

      He studied her face, then nodded decisively. “Very well. Aydan, wait here with Iago and Lisbet. Watch out for any activity. Searc, come with me.”

      They followed the shadowy outer edge of the placa, following in the footsteps of ancient cruel inquisitors. When they were at a right angle to the building that housed the brothel, Lorcan paused. “According to the plans Pedro showed me, the entrance to the crypt should be around here.”

      The marble wall that marked the outer edge of the placa was smooth, with decorative arches set at regular intervals along its length. Tanzi pointed to one of these.

      “There.”

      Camouflaged within the dappled gray surface of the marble there was a small iron ring, slightly rusted with age. Lorcan lifted it and, with a groan of protest, the marble panel slid inward, revealing gaping darkness beyond. A scurrying sound indicated that they had disturbed the creatures lurking within.

      Lorcan raised a hand and the darkness vanished. The light he cast revealed a narrow corridor and the disappearing shapes of several large rats. “The entrance to our crypt, I believe. Can you cope with the rodents?”

      “Have you forgotten my preferred choice of shift?” Taking the hand he held out to her, Tanzi followed him into the narrow space.

      “Hadn’t I just? Don’t you be off chasing rats and leaving me to fend for myself, will you now?” Lorcan pulled the marble panel closed behind them.

      They were in a narrow corridor just wide enough for Lorcan to walk along and lead Tanzi behind him. It smelled of damp and decay, and thick dusty cobwebs brushed their faces. Nature had made an attempt to reclaim it, and dark moss covered the walls, while green tendrils stretched down through cracks in the roof. As they followed the twists of the passage, it led them sharply downward until it opened out into a cavernous space. Here the rocky walls were lined with shelves. Lorcan kept Tanzi’s hand in one of his, but he held his other hand high to illuminate the scene. Each shelf was stacked high with coffins in varying states of repair.

      “The crypt.”

      There was something different about Lorcan’s voice when he said the word. Tanzi studied his face. His expression was serene, almost dreamy, as his eyes scanned the coffins. It was as though an inner peace had descended upon him. Should it surprise her that he was at home here among the dead? He was a necromancer, after all, one of those rare and magical beings who were born with the ability to communicate with those who had gone beyond life. She just hoped he wasn’t going to start doing it now.

      As if he sensed her unease, Lorcan drew his eyes back to her face. “If Pedro is right, we should be able to enter the other building from here. The inquisitors used this crypt to hide the true number of their dead from the outside world.”

      “There doesn’t seem to be any way out, other than the way we came in.” Tanzi looked around. It was a man-made cave with rough stone walls and a high, rounded ceiling. “It’s a dead end.”

      Lorcan groaned and rolled his eyes. “Less of the dead jokes, please. I’ve heard them all before.”

      “I didn’t mean—” Tanzi’s protest was cut short by a scraping noise from one of the coffins. It was soft but unmistakable. Nervously, she drew closer to Lorcan. “What was that?” Even though she whispered, her voice sounded unnaturally loud in the echoing space.

      “One of them needs to tell me something.” Lorcan started to move toward the shelf from which the noise was becoming louder and more insistent. Tanzi gripped his hand tighter, keeping him at her side.

      “Just like that? Do dead people often feel the need to tell you things?”

      “If it’s important they do. They can sense my presence.” He turned to face her. “You’re trembling.” He drew her to him, running his hands up and down her arms. Soothing me as he would a frightened animal, Tanzi told herself, even as she gave herself up to the sensations his touch provoked. Just as if I really am the kitten he jokes about me being. “There is nothing to fear from the souls who lie here. Even if they wished us harm—and I doubt they do—the dead cannot hurt a necromancer.” He slid his fingers under her chin, constraining her to look up at him even though her instinct was to burrow her head into his chest. “I’ll look after you, Searc.”

      Releasing her, Lorcan went over to the stack of coffins. The noise was coming from the casket on the top shelf. It was newer and less elaborate than the others, little more than a plain box compared with their wrought iron–encrusted grandeur. Placing his hands on the lid, he bent his head as if in prayer. “Asprecan. Speak to

Скачать книгу