Page 91 of Flame and Fury

“What exactly did I agree to help with?” Drake looks around the park that’s being overtaken by nature.

“I’ll fill you in,” Lark says softly before giving him a rundown of our plan.

“Let's get moving before someone notices us.” Atlas is scanning the area, watching for any dangers.

The park where we've landed is overgrown and full of garbage from hundreds of passersby throwing their crap in here without thought. There's a fenced off area about twenty feet from where we're standing, but it's barely a barrier. Flimsy black barricades are set up in a loose circle around a set of steps that disappear beneath the street level.

The heat of the night makes the smell of urine and rotting food more potent. It stings my nostrils. I inhale through my mouth to avoid the stink, but then it feels like I'm swallowing it instead. We head toward the barricade, bringing us closer to the street. The few remaining lights staggered down the avenue highlight the steps of city hall. The building is massive, but it's been ignored for a long time. Some of the stone is crumbling, and graffiti covers most of the building that can be reached from the sidewalks.

“This station is closed, right?” Lark murmurs as we gather around the top of the steps. It looks like there used to be a structure around the steps, but it was torn down at some point.

“Most of the trains don't run in New York these days. Public transportation isn't high on the list of important things for the clerics.” Atlas clicks on a flashlight and starts down the steps. “Only a few still run into the different boroughs.”

Wonderful. That means there are lots and lots of abandoned subway tunnels that we'll have to search. Sounds like a great way to spend the night. Thoughts of being wrapped in Atlas's arms this morning bounce into my head, and the yearning I have to go back to that place is intense.

“Let's get this over with,” I grumble and follow Atlas down the steps. The cement is almost slick, damp with humidity that hangs in the air. There's a rusted railing that I could grab hold of, but I honestly don't want to know what's coating the damn thing. I step carefully and watch Atlas's flashlight. I have one in my pocket, but until we're underground, I'm not going to use it. We don't want to alert anyone that we're here.

At the bottom of the steps is a metal gate with a padlock holding it in place.

“That's it? That's all they've got to secure the entrance?” I look around, searching for something else that's going to keep us out. Granted, there isn't usually a minotaur tromping around beneath the city. I'm still surprised they didn't just fill in the steps and block the entrance off entirely if they don't want people down here.

Atlas yanks on the metal gate and it pulls open. The padlock falls to the ground with a clang. Apparently, someone else has already done the work for us.

“Judging by how rusty this lock is, I'm guessing it was removed a long time ago.” Nico picks up the lock, twisting it in his hand before he dumps it back on the ground.

“Everyone stay quiet and stick close,” Atlas commands, back in leader mode.

We shimmy through the opening, Lark and I having a much easier time than Atlas, Drake, and Nico. Not that my ass doesn't get caught on the gate. Once behind the gate, I take out my flashlight, finally feeling like an independent person again as I shine the light on my feet to watch for any bad steps on the way down. The quiet shuffle of our boots on the cement is the only thing I hear. Even noises from above are muted as we go farther beneath the city. Kat's neatly tiled tunnels back in Chicago are looking nicer and nicer.

Atlas is the first to step out into a rotunda, but I'm right on his heels.

“Wow,” Atlas murmurs, shining his flashlight toward the ceiling.

Okay, I take it back; the boring Underground tunnels have nothing on this. The ceiling is vaulted, with arches coming to a center point. There's careful tiling in a pattern that surrounds a stained-glass window. Panels have been broken, and there are only a few remaining pieces of colored glass, but the design is still evident. There's a rounded arch that leads to another set of stairs that head down.

“Let's go.” I wave my flashlight toward the steps, and we move as a group to the lower level.

“This is where trains used to stop,” Lark whispers. There's a curved platform, and then the train tracks beyond that. There are more arches on this level, and even some chandeliers dangling from the ceiling.

“That's where we need to go.” Nico shines his light down onto the track. A rodent skitters away from the bright glare. Great. The track is dirty, and there are several puddles of water. Gods, I hope it's water.

“Which direction should we take?” I shine my light to the left and the right. There's no telling where the minotaur will be.

A faraway roar echoes down the train tunnel to our left, and we all freeze. “Holy shit.” That sounded loud, even though it was obviously not at all close. “How big is the minotaur?”

“Really fucking big,” Atlas grumbles. “Everyone ready?”

“Remind me again why we're running toward the minotaur?” Drake wipes sweat off his brow.

None of us answer. We all know how important this task is. Atlas shines his flashlight onto the track and then jumps down. His feet land with a soft thump. For a man his size, he's almost more graceful than me.

“Watch the third rail. Most of these trains don't run any longer, but that doesn't mean that they're not still live.”

The damn third rail. It's what provides electricity that the trains run on. We've all been reminding each other that one touch to the fucking thing will fry us up like a fish stick. Atlas and I are likely to survive the charge. Atlas because of Zeus's blood in his veins, and me because of my Fury. Lark, Drake, and Nico all have god blood somewhere in their family line, but it's diluted enough that there's a good chance they wouldn’t survive. Regardless, we don't have time for injuries, and no one wants to get electrocuted.

I jump down next, overcompensating for the third rail. Atlas's arm snaps out, and he catches me, hauling me tightly to his body.

“Whoa there, little bird.” Atlas's voice is soft. I can barely see him since both our flashlights are pointed down, but I feel his regard like a warm light on my face.

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