Page 60 of The Devil You Know
He pulled the handle and winced as the sirens whooped, shattering the silence.
The trick is to get help for everyone else without getting caught myself. I’ve got work to do.
Seth moved as quickly as he could, keeping a hand on the grimy walls to steady himself. He remembered writing a text to send to Evan about an abandoned rehabilitation facility right before he got grabbed at the library. That told him where he was—and he’d figure out how to get back to Evan.
Why isn’t Evan here? I thought he was real in the tunnel. Did I imagine everything—even the rescue?
Desperation flooded him with adrenaline. Searching for the steps to the ground floor led him to another locked door. Magic opened it faster than a lockpick. He made it down the stairs by hanging onto the railing the whole way, unsure when his legs might give out on him.
Seth stumbled to the door and cracked it open to see the parking lot. Overhead lights flickered disconcertingly in the twilight, barely illuminating the expanse of cracked asphalt, but he spotted a couple of large, armed men near the far corner of the building.
There’s nowhere for me to run that they can’t catch me.
Seth remembered the blueprints he had been looking at in the library, and how the hospital sat adjacent to the abandoned subway station.
It’s a long shot, but if Osborn owns this building, he might have built an entrance to the old subway from the basement. I’d rather take my chances down there than fight my way past his goons.
While he had a signal, Seth dialed 911 on the stolen cell phone. “The people who’ve gone missing are in the old rehab hospital where the fire alarm just went off,” he told the dispatcher. “Second floor, end of the hallway.”
He had no idea where Evan was and worried since his boyfriend hadn’t been the one to free him. Hoping that Evan wasn’t in trouble of his own, Seth texted him with what he had realized in the dream-zone.
Unknown:Got loose, heading for the tunnel. Osborn’s amulet is his ring with the red stone. Be safe. Love you. - Seth
He knew Evan’s number by heart, but not Joe’s, or Seth would have texted their new ally as well. His heart sank when an alert popped up indicating the message had failed to send.
Gonna have to hope Evan is okay and that he still gets the message. It’s the best I can do for now.
Seth stumbled and caught himself.Fuck. I’m barely staying on my feet, and I’ve got a long way to go.
He used the phone’s light to guide him down the stairs to the basement. Even if the electricity still worked, he didn’t want to broadcast his location by turning on the overhead bulbs. Recalling what he’d seen on the floor plans, Seth headed toward the part of the cellar that would be closest to the old tunnel.Let’s hope I didn’t just trap myself in a dead end.
The fire klaxon reverberated in the concrete basement, making Seth’s head throb. He knew he was in no shape to go up against Osborn and stop the ritual, but his worry that Evan might have been captured overruled caution.
He kept an eye out for anything he could use as a better weapon than the broken chair leg and spotted a heavy wrench discarded on a table. Seth ransacked a storage cabinet and found a faded and mildewed box of emergency candles and matches. He shoved as many of them as he could into his pockets and hefted the wrench.
Not as good as a machete or a battery-powered lantern, but I’ll take what I can get.
Seth reached the back of the basement. He let the phone’s light play over the wall, and his eyes widened when he saw a doorway that didn’t look as old as the wall around it. The steel door’s lock yielded to his spell, and Seth eased it open to reveal a dark void.
What did I expect? The tunnel hasn’t been in use since the 1950s.
Seth gripped the wrench and lit a candle, hoping to save what remained of the phone’s battery. He moved slowly down what seemed to be a side corridor and wished the candle illuminated more of his surroundings.I can barely see two feet in front of me. But the light makes me a target for anyone—or anything—out there.
When the corridor widened, Seth sighed in relief to see dim emergency lighting break the gloom. Once he reached the main tunnel, he blew out the candle and took a good look around.
“Subway” wasn’t quite the right word, he thought. More like a tunnel to take streetcars under a section of bridge, back when trolleys ran on rails with an electrified overhead wire.
He had read articles about the yearly event that opened the station to the public, complete with a few of the old streetcars. Seth got his bearings, taking in the crumbling concrete, peeling paint, and places where mold blackened the plaster.
Time and neglect had not been kind to this place. Aside from that public event, the passageway remained unused—except, he suspected, by Osborn.
Three thousand feet of tunnel and two stations made up the subway. The “stations” hadn’t been elaborate—just stairs from the sidewalk at street level leading to platforms with white-tiled walls. Those entrances had been locked long ago.
Getting out wasn’t what worried Seth. Keeping Evan safe and stopping Osborn from going through with his ritual were the most important things.
Seth stayed close to the wall where the emergency lighting didn’t quite reach, giving him scant cover in the shadows. He sniffed the still air, and amid the dust and mold, thought he smelled incense.
Osborn’s here.
