Page 47 of Devoured
“Almost there,”Sela whispered, pointing ahead to where the tunnel opened into a larger space.
The loading dock was larger than I’d expected—crammed with boxes and medical equipment under the dim emergency lighting. Overhead doors on one side led to the outside world—to freedom, to air that hadn’t been breathed by monsters. A regular exit door glowed red beneath an emergency light, our gateway to escape.
So close.
We picked up speed despite the pain, despite the blood soaking through our bandages. Marion stumbled, and I caught her—both of us nearly going down—but Isaac appeared suddenly and steadied us.
“The door,”Sela said, heading for the exit. “Once we’re through, we run for Isaac’s car. Don’t stop for anything. Don’t look back.”
She reached for the handle, her keycard ready. This was it. Freedom was just on the other side of that door. She swiped once. The light stayed red. Nothing happened.
“Shit,”she muttered, trying again with more force.
That’s when the lights came on. Bright fluorescents flooded the loading dock, making us all squint and shield our eyes after so long in the tunnels’ dim gloom.
Tobias stepped out from behind a stack of boxes, that same cheerful smile stretched across his swollen face. Behind him, more orderlies emerged from the shadows where they’d been waiting. Their eyes reflected the harsh light like predators’, and I realized with growing horror that this had all been planned.
“Going somewhere?”Tobias asked, his voice sing-song and falsely concerned.
I spun around, hoping the tunnel was still clear—but more orderlies blocked that exit too. We were completely surrounded. Trapped like animals in a cage.
Footsteps echoed from a side passage. Varnar emerged, his white coat pristine despite the grimy loading dock, his warm smile utterly terrifying.
“Did you really think we didn’t know?”Varnar asked, gliding closer with that predatory grace I’d learned to fear. “Every word whispered in the dark. Every plan made in desperate huddles. These walls have been listening for decades. And they tell us everything.”
“Run!”Sela shouted—but there was nowhere to go.
They rushed us from both sides in an instant. Isaac fought harder than I’d ever seen anyone fight—caught one orderly in the throat with his elbow, another in the ribs with a wild punch. But there were too many of them, and they were ready for resistance.
I heard the crack before I saw it—Tobias bringing his baton down on Isaac’s knee. The sound was wet and wrong, like a branch snapping in a storm.Isaac went down screaming, his leg bending at an angle that made me gag. I knew they’d destroyed something that would never heal right.
“Isaac!”Marion tried to reach him, but two orderlies grabbed her arms, twisting them behind her. When she struggled, one of them backhanded her across her already-damaged face, adding fresh blood to old injuries.
Sela tried to help, but an orderly’s boot slammed into her ribs with a sound like kindling snapping. Multiple cracks—not just one rib, but several, breaking like dry twigs beneath a boot. She dropped to her knees, coughing blood onto the concrete.
I fought too, clawing and kicking with everything I had left. Someone grabbed my hair and slammed my head against a concrete pillar. Stars exploded across my vision, my skull ringing like a bell. When my sight cleared, we were all on the ground, our hands zip-tied behind our backs.
“Bring them,”Varnar ordered, calm and satisfied. “It’s time they understood what this place really is.”
The orderlies hauled us to our feet. I’d lost both shoes in the chaos, and the cold floor bit into my bare feet. They half-carried Isaac between two of them. Varnar walked ahead, leading us deeper into the hospital than I’d ever been—past doors marked with symbols I didn’t recognize, down stairs that seemed to descend forever into the earth.
The deeper we went, the older everything looked. Modern tile gave way to medieval stone blocks. Each breath tasted of something sweet and rotten that coated my throat.
Finally, we stopped in front of a massive wooden door. Ancient oak, carved with symbols. Varnar produced a key that looked like it was made of yellowed bone, old and polished smooth by countless hands.
The lock clicked with a sound like breaking bones, and the door swung open on hinges that screamed like tortured souls.
“Welcome,”Varnar said, his voice thick with anticipation, “to the real St. Dymphna.”
Chapter 15
The door opened, and we emerged into a circular chamber that I recognized from my visions. But seeing it in person was different. The altar stood in the center, dark with stains that had seeped so deep they’d become part of the stone. Modern medical equipment sat alongside ancient symbols—IV stands positioned at ritual points, monitors with cables snaking across carved channels, surgical instruments on steel trays next to ceremonial blades.
People were already waiting. Some I recognized as orderlies and staff. Others were strangers in dark robes. But there, near the altar, stood a figure that made my blood freeze.
The old man from my vision. The one who’d helped young Varnar after his mother died centuries ago. He should have been dust, but here he stood—beard gray down to his chest, moving carefully towards us.
“Finally,”he said, voice like grinding stone. “The gathering is complete.”
