Chicagoland by Gail Martin (important books to read TXT) 📕

“I sketched as much as I could and took notes, just in case,” Sarah added. “Certain symbols repeated, and so did some words.”

“Looked like a ritual room for dark magic,” West said, dusting himself off. “Candles, dried plants, bowls, goblets. The door was locked or sealed from the outside—where it connected to the Lexington.”

The hotel where Capone had his headquarters. That couldn’t possibly be a coincidence.

“Did Capone have a secret strega?” I wondered aloud. It sounded like we had two issues now—the heart-eating creature and a dark witch. Then again, I’ve been wrong before.

“No idea,” West replied. “But they sure weren’t holding Sunday School in there.”

I heard faint rustling down a nearby tunnel, too large to be a rat, too quiet to be a train. Nothing had changed, but now the electric lights seemed to leave far too many shadows pooled at the edges and corners. Some of the branching tunnels looked completely dark. There were too many access points, making our position indefensible if something chose to attack.

My gut said we were being watched, and even before I swore my soul to Krukis, I had learned that my intuition was rarely wrong.

“We need to go.” I didn’t make it a question. “Now.”

I’d expected pushback from West or Sarah, but to my surprise, they both agreed, packed up, and hurried out, making me wonder if at some level, they sensed a threat as well.

The clatter of the small trains seemed distant, reminding me we had veered off the more populated route. I felt hyper-aware of every sound—the drip of water, the scrape of our shoes on concrete, and the clinking of the gear in our weapons bag. And just at the edge of my enhanced hearing, I could make out the faint sound of movement, stealthy but not too far away.

Something knew we were here—and it stalked us.

“Hurry,” I urged, dropping my voice so it didn’t carry beyond the three of us. “We’re not alone.”

We picked up the pace, not quite running but close to it. Our steps echoed in the tunnels, sounding like they came from everywhere at once. Human hearing wouldn’t have caught the faintest scuff that kept pace, not closing yet, but not veering away. Following us.

Up ahead the lights grew brighter as we came back to the more frequently used tracks. If our stalker meant to do us harm, he’d move on us before we reached witnesses.

“Go,” I ordered West and Sarah. “Wait for me somewhere with a lot of light, people, and traffic.”

“Joe—” Sarah protested, as West tried to steer her by the elbow.

“I’ll catch up. Now go!”

All those supernatural enhancements from Krukis included speed as well as strength and metal skin, and so far, I hadn’t run into anything I couldn’t match or better. Catching up wouldn’t be a problem. But if a creature from the depths of the tunnels stalked us, then I intended to be the wall that stopped it from following West and Sarah.

I waited until their footsteps receded before I addressed the tunnels. “I don’t know who or what you are, but I’m your match. You don’t want to fight me. Go away.”

I caught a whiff of old blood and rotted meat and felt the creature’s gaze raking over me, sizing me up, trying to decide if I was worth the risk. Then as quickly as it appeared, it vanished, and I felt relief like the sudden lifting of pressure before a storm.

Even so, I stayed motionless for several minutes, in case the withdrawal was a trap. Finally, I hurried to meet West and Sarah, glancing over my shoulder at intervals until the hubbub of the busy portion of the tunnels surrounded me.

“What was that?” West asked as we hurried toward the exit. I felt sure we were all equally eager to be above ground.

“I don’t know,” I replied. “But I’m sure it’s at least part of the reason there’ve been disappearances and deaths.”

“Part?” Sarah asked, cautious but not overly spooked.

“Yeah. Because I think we might have more than one monster.”

I hadn’t realized how tense I’d been until we emerged from the tunnels, safe and sound. We caught a streetcar back to the hotel and made our way up the back stairs to avoid notice.

West and I unlocked our room, Sarah let herself into hers, and we met in the shared parlor in the middle.

“If we can manage with just one bathroom for a few hours, I can set up my darkroom in ours and get these pictures developed,” West said. Since I had gone my entire mortal life without indoor plumbing, the possibility of needing to share one marble-tiled washroom for an hour or two didn’t seem like a hardship. “Don’t wait up for me. I’ll have the prints ready in the morning.”

“Make yourself comfortable, Joe. I need to get all this rock dust out of my hair, and then I’m going to turn in,” Sarah said, heading for her room. “If you want a drink, the flasks are in my valise,” she added, pointing to a leather Gladstone bag on the table behind the couch.

I was never much of a drinker before I died, and now that I’m immortal, I could probably drink all the hooch in Chicago and barely get a buzz, but sometimes I enjoyed taking the edge off. Not to mention the social aspect, which makes me feel a little more human on nights when dark dreams haunt me.

Prohibition made drinking the biggest shared secret in America, and while part of me admired Ness’s resolute pursuit of justice, I still thought banning booze was a bad idea. The ban obviously didn’t work, it made criminals out of regular folks who just wanted a beer, and since contraband always came at a high price, the new laws fueled the rise of the Mob and guys like Capone. All in all, it seemed to prove what they say about the road to hell and good