Chapter Two

"Keep your ‘dammits’ to yourself, Markington!" she said impatiently. "You’re the one who wanted geological strata. I’ll have the readouts in less than a minute." She muttered, "Though it’d’ve be better, in my opinion, if you’d considered the water table instead."

"Always a whinger," Randy retorted. He knew how much it irritated her. "You know how people relate their well-being to crystals—"

"New Age stupidity," she put in.

"—and how frequently peasant superstitions have been backed up by—"

"Randy—" she cut in.

He raised an eyebrow.

"Shut up!" Without another word, she tugged the paper out of the printer and headed for the door, Randy at her back. She reached for the knob with one hand, and tossed Randy a pack of gum with the other.

*

It wasn’t until he was already inside that he remembered the snake he’d seen that afternoon. At the time he’d been "distracted". He had a jumbled memory of wriggling reptile, inhaled dust, ancient lamps, and broken bones—the present overlapping with the past.

At this moment, the most important part of his present was a beady-eyed scaly slitherer with a forked tongue. That damned rattlesnake wasn’t the kind of animal he’d come looking for.

He shone the light lingeringly into the dark recesses along his way, and then, more cautiously, under the jumbled rocks. A glint of eye refraction, and a slithering movement made him jump. He scrambled backwards, toppled onto his rear, realised it made him more vulnerable, and leaped, fell and rolled down the passageway.

He was still on his knees when the tremulous warble whispered in the distance. As his flashlight spun and settled, its light painting shuddery etchings across the uneven surface, the whistle grew in intensity. Zeb cocked his head to listen, then crawled quickly along—forgetting all his resolutions about waiting for the others.

Forgetting everything except The Whistler, and his need to get there—before the music stopped.

*

Randy’s stomach sank as soon as he spotted Zeb’s car. "He’s inside."

"Who’s that?" Shea was looking at a sleek sportscar, parked just beyond Zeb’s.

Randy climbed out, and sniffed the air. "My business partner," he said. "Too curious for his own good."

"Is he inside with Zeb?"

"More or less."

She sighed. "So Zeb doesn’t know he’s there," she said.

Randy nodded. "That’s what I think."

"—started without us."

She turned to him a little desperately. "Did you bring a flashlight?"

"No. Why would I?" he retorted, with a trace of sarcasm. "Dammit."

"I’ll be careful," she promised, but there was that same hint of excitement in her voice that had been in Zeb’s earlier.

"When are you two going to learn some restraint?" he hissed.

"About the same time you and Ness do," she replied.

"I should have called Rio," Randy said worriedly.

"Think we’re gonna need him?" she asked seriously.

"He’s good at diffusing things."

"I notice you didn’t mention Ty. There’s restraint for you!" she hissed.

"I prefer my stalactites on the ceiling, rather than sticking out of my head—" he began.

They were at the cave entrance. Abruptly, she turned around, grasped the front of his shirt and yanked him down for a giant kiss.

He ran his hands over her, then sniffed longingly at her nape and hair. "I know," he replied. He inhaled deeply, then coughed on the dust. "Damn!" He coughed again, but this time, it sounded more like a growl.

She heard it. "Sly, aren’t we?" she muttered as he took over the lead.

He chuckled, as he stared at the refracted sheen of crystals along the roof. No doubt Luke would have a question or two about the source of light. He shook his head and tightened his grip on her hand. "Absolutely devious," he said.

*

Luke couldn’t figure out how Devery was doing it—or why. There didn’t seem to be any point to the man’s movements—yet they were made with a kind of desperate urgency. He was crawling, scrambling, and at times practically running between the rocky layers.

At first Luke had thought he was aware of being pursued, and that it had sent him into some kind of panic. Now, he’d decided the man was largely oblivious to anything but his goal. He hadn’t slowed, nor had his speed picked up when Luke had yelled his name.

There was another possibility: this may have been Markington’s way of admitting some healthy competition. Maybe Devery was getting too greedy, or too dictatorial. Maybe Markington felt the only way to protect his share was to admit someone else to the mix.

What else were they hiding? This wasn’t Luke’s first pursuit, but it was certainly his strangest. He’d been trained in lipreading, and the conversation this afternoon hadn’t been difficult to interpret. There was something here, and instinct told him it must tie in to his investigation. But, now that he was God-knows-how-many feet under the ground, he knew he’d made a mistake. He’d followed Devery too soon. Now, he could well have Markington on his tail. Luke’s "divide and conquer" approach was beginning to feel more foolish all the time.

But, he couldn’t forget his discomfort, when confronted by them both. Markington had changed from "bumbling" to "dexterous" in the blink of an eye. As much as Luke wanted to catch them in the act, he had very definite qualms about confronting them together in a place like this. He had no desire to make this his burial ground.

He had a choice: follow Devery further, and literally drive him underground—or get out, before Markington turned up.

*

Zeb slammed his hands over his ears, then stood shaking. He was drenched with sweat, weak and nauseated.

Nothing but rock. Coarse rock, of white limestone with crystalline intrusions, weird fans and pointed stalactites, swirls and bubbles and irregular holes. Rock with light and shadow; pools of unseen depths lying just beyond the reach of his flashlight. It was all a puzzle, a maze.

He could hear them now. The crunch and tap of claws on rock. Almost automatically, it seemed, his eyes sought the scrabbling creatures his ears had promised.

They were small and unbelievably wary. At first, they were indecipherable from the limestone, but he knew it was like a Magic Eye puzzle, where a 3D image is hidden in plain sight. As Zeb’s eyes rested on the rock surface, his vision blurred and his focus changed. The features—faces, feet, claws—were suddenly there.

Until they began to move. These were sparsely-haired, with huge, saucerlike eyes, long beaked noses, and spindly arms. The arms were gesturing wildly now, in his direction. Not angry, and not curious. Frightened.

Zeb smiled. And if by some chance these gnome-types were unidentified—unknowns, by folktale standards—Shea would have wanted to list their characteristics, and enter them in her database.

The least Zeb Devery could do was capture them on film. He pulled the camcorder out of his pack, but each little movement seemed to set the gnome-types off. They were skittish, uneasy, and something in their fearful energies transferred itself to him. The click and scrape of their nails seemed unnaturally loud, and he noticed the way they were peering around; those big eyes squinting in the brightness of his flashlight. He watched as three separated themselves from the others, and crawled, batlike, up the steep walls: their bony limbs jutting at awkward angles as they clung to the rock face. They were staring at the pooling greys and blacks, beyond the reach of Zeb’s light—ears perked at an angle towards something he couldn’t hear.

A sibilant whisper cut the air, and gooseflesh danced down Zeb’s arms. The gnomes were suddenly frozen in place, like barnacles to a rock. Zeb realised the only thing still in motion in the cavern...was him.

They hadn’t come alone. There was a predator lurking—something he hadn’t seen.

It wouldn’t be the first time. When the damned whistle came, it set Zeb off—and he was out of control. Driven. The need to follow it through became a compelling force, and he couldn’t let go. They all knew it—Randy, Shea, Ty, Rio, Ness—so they mounted expeditions now, to document and catalogue. They’d left the wild, slack, dive-in-with-the-sharks stuff behind. They let Zeb chum the waters, but nobody went for a swim. They’d had too many injuries in the early days, with too many unexplainable repercussions.

This afternoon was a first, and it had fooled them all. Zeb had thought, for once, that he was doing things on his own terms. But it was no different from before. He should have realised that once he’d been touched by the whistle, he’d never be able to walk away. Not without seeing it through...

He flushed. It had been years since he’d acted this irresponsibly. He knew better than to go it alone.

Dammit if he hadn’t blown it again...

The background sibilance echoed briefly, then suddenly rose, to a low-pitched, reverberating hum. It was all the gnomes needed. In a panic, they dove off walls and leapt, in a scurryingly awkward frenzy, across the rocks. Their screeching cries filled the cavern.

Zeb fought to concentrate. He focussed on the rock wall; focussed on that particular zone of deafness where the only sound was a peculiarly sweet whistle...

He was nearly there. The displacement, the confusion, the overlapping frames of movement...

He might be deaf, but he wasn’t blind. If anything, he was seeing too much right now—on too many levels.

Something was coming at him. The hair lifted on the nape of his neck, and his heart pounded with terror. His legs twitched with the need to flee.

Sweat broke on his brow, but he stood his ground.

Overlap it with that other vision...the one that would lure it away—that would make It as driven as he’d been moments since.

He had it. The wings fluttered irregularly as the predator turned. The beast was so close he could feel the wind ruffle his hair—could smell the rancid breath of the carnivore...

He’d done it, and the knot in his gut loosened. It was heading back towards the rock face, and it was being chased by its small gnome-prey. For an instant, Zeb felt a qualm of dismay. The gnomes, drawn just as the hunter was, were unable to stop themselves. They’d be walking right into the predator’s mouth—returning to certain death...

*

Luke ran. He’d never heard anything like it before, but he knew it wasn’t bats. Some kind of animal, maybe, but he couldn’t take a chance. If it was a human animal, the guy was in terrible pain.

He nearly outran his light, and twice he stumbled, and nearly fell. By the time he made his way to Zeb’s hiding place, he was panting and furious.

And more than a little sure he was being played for a fool.

*

A beam of light suddenly burst into the cavern—and right into Zeb’s eyes. He lost it all—his vision, his qualms, his equilibrium, his focus. His hearing was back—he knew, because an angry voice bellowed his name.

That’s not what he was listening for, though. There was another, underlying wash of sound as a soft sibilance gave way to a vibrating hum. The next moment it was all clouds of choking dust and gnashing teeth, yells and screeching cries, skittering bony legs and arms, and yelps of human disbelief. A heavy body slammed Zeb back, into the rock, and jagged claws pinned him there. He opened his eyes, as unbelievably jagged teeth came down.

It was the last thing Zeb remembered.

*

In slow motion, Luke and his weighty burden toppled—landing in a crunch of rock and squirming bodies. At the same moment, his gun went off, resonating the roof with a horrendous blast. The gnomes—the ones that could, anyway—that weren’t crunched beneath him—scattered. Luke was left lying there, with the stink of gunfire strong in his nose.

Luke knew he would never look at moths the same way again. This one was enormous, with a heavy body, dusky brown wings that twitched continuously, and enormous antennae. It had clawed feet, and a siphon tongue, that was sucking the life out of the man—Luke was close enough to see the dark pulsing through the tongue. As it fed, the antennae uncurled, then coiled up again with each gulp. Luke had a sudden urge to gag.

He rolled over on to his stomach, and pushed himself up on his knees. Devery wasn’t going to last long. He lurched to his feet.

Luke was flopped from side to side. It was deliberately trying to scrape him against the stalactites, he realised, and he froze. He’d never expected it to be smart—never expected it to have more than a moth’s reasoning power. The idea of a monster with a brain was so much worse than an animal acting merely on instinct.

The moth whipped him around so fast, that he could barely cling to the wings. Apparently, those clawed feet were a lot more manoeuvrable than he would have ever guessed. It was trying to break him off now, in any way it could.

Luke’s head whammed against the rock, and his world went momentarily black. When he opened his eyes it was to a whirr of motion as a man—Luke could swear it was Markington—hit the moth with a blow that send dust and blood flying everywhere.

Luke lay there, staring a little blankly at the scene, as Markington picked up the moth as though it weighed nothing, and flung it, Frisbee-like, across the cavern.

There was a woman with him, and they were surrounded by light. Through aching eyes, Luke surveyed the rest of the room, and he wondered that he hadn’t noticed the radiance before. If someone had brought in some fluorescents, it wouldn’t have been any brighter.

The woman must have heard him, because she looked up, and met his eyes across the distance. Luke could swear hers were glowing.

The world seemed to tilt and he latched onto a stalactite for balance.

"Hold it, Hamilton," a voice said.

"Markington?" Luke muttered.

"The same. Sit down while I look at Zeb..."

The cave had developed a wobbliness he hadn’t noticed before. He squinted against the pain in his head, and had a sudden feeling someone was watching him. He turned, to find himself face-to-face with one of the little "bats". Its eyes were squinted, too, but against the light.

It was squatting against the wall like the bat he’d claimed it to be, but there was nothing batlike about its toothy grin. "Zshaylok," it said, in a screechy voice.

"Aren’t you going to say hello?" came Markington’s sarcastic voice, from the background.

"Gotcha!" a voice growled near his ear, and there was a trace of humour in it Luke couldn’t miss. "Damned ‘business partners’ are more trouble than they’re worth."

*

"Not if I get there first."

"If that’s a comment on my dilatory arrival, save it." Despite the sarcastic note, Randy sounded worried. "You really did it this time, Zeb." He was applying pressure to Zeb’s shoulder, while Shea applied a makeshift bandage. "If you were gonna run into a Mahr, you could have waited till we got here."

Shea shook her head. "The med kit."

"If there’s no stopper," Randy told her softly, "get some cobwebs—" The fear in his eyes belied the calmness of his voice.

Shea forced a smile, for Zeb’s sake. "Ness’ll have your hide for this one, Zeb."

Randy asked her worriedly, "Can you find the way out?"

"Don’t look at me," Zeb muttered.

"We all know what kind of trails you leave," Randy remarked, sniffing distastefully.

"Slurs...s’all I get."

Shea grinned. Her wave was a sudden sparkling of light. The next instant she was gone, racing back the way they’d come.

"Oww!" Zeb grunted to Randy. "Not so hard." It felt like he was trying to push his shoulder through the rock.

"Wuss." But, Randy didn’t release the pressure. The Mahr must have had an anticoagulant in its saliva, and Zeb was still bleeding heavily. Randy’s hands were shaking, but it wouldn’t do for Zeb to know it. Luckily, the cavern was dark now that Shea had left.

Except for the dull glimmer of Zeb’s blood. Randy had seen it before, but it never failed to shock him anew.

"Where’s the Mahr?" A detached voice arose out of the blackness.

"Uh-oh," Zeb whispered.

"Yes, you’re right," Randy told him calmly. "We’re screwed."

"It’s dark in here," came the voice again.

"Observant, isn’t he?" Zeb whispered. "So astute."

Randy grinned, then said loudly, "The light will be back shortly. Don’t move, Luke, before you damage yourself more. That was one hell of a fall you took."

"Slick," Zeb hissed. "I’m impressed."

"How’s Devery?" Luke asked.

"Devery’s fine," Zeb replied, "considering you knocked me down that hole." He grinned.

"What’s with him?" Randy asked disparagingly. Dammit if he’d let Zeb bleed to death while he found out.

Zeb couldn’t take it. With trembling fingers, he fished the lighter out of his pocket and flicked it.

Luke Hamilton was surrounded—piled high with gnomes, who’d decided he was synonymous with safety. He was an island of bony arms and legs in a sea of rock.

"Dammit," Randy sighed. "Nunus."

Luke’s head was still spinning, and he would forever blame his next comment on his giddiness. "That’s Nunus to me," he said.

*

"I’ve got to send them back," Zeb said grimly.

"Damn right you do, but not till Ness gets here." Randy knew it was a mistake, as soon as he’d said it.

"No!" Zeb gritted his teeth and tried to shove Randy away. "Get off!"

"Nope." He tightened his grip. "You’re so fuckin’ prejudiced!"

If he’d hoped to get results with that one he was disappointed. It was true that Zeb hated doctors—had a phobia about them almost as bad as his fear of rattlesnakes. It didn’t help that Ness was one of his best friends. They got along because neither of them mentioned it. The times Ness had been called upon to patch up other members of their expeditions, Zeb had always made himself scarce. "Is that what Shea’s doing? Waiting for Ness?"

"Quit squirming. We need Ness for dumbshit there—"

"Good! Haul him out to the entry, so I don’t have to watch!"

"I can’t," Randy told him practically. "He’ll have too much company."

"Shut up and take your medicine like a man!" Luke said loudly, then burst out laughing again.

Randy growled.

Zeb, meanwhile, was silent. He’d never tried to do this in the dark, but there was always a first time. He stared in the general direction of the rocks, where the Nunus had emerged.

"Zeb!" This time, the growl was directed at him.

The overlap came, but Zeb couldn’t hold onto it. His eyes were aching, and he felt tireder than he ever had in his life. "Rand—" he muttered.

Then, he was confused because it was daylight—no, it was Shea. Someone else was swearing softly, and sticking a needle into his arm. "Go ’way, Ness," Zeb muttered.

"Fuck you, too," Ness said, but he didn’t move. "You should start to feel better in a minute, Zeb," he went on, checking the IV. "Stay with him, Randy, while I check on the other guy."

"Megalomaniac," Zeb grouched to his back.

"Mediphobic. You’re right, though: just give me a white coat and I can rule the world."

"His name’s Luke," Randy offered. "And those are Nunus."

Luke noticed that the man "Ness" didn’t seem in the least surprised to see a load of Nunus on his chest. All he said was "Zeb, you’re an idiot," before waving one hand to shoo them away. After a few minutes’ examination, he told Luke, "Hit your head pretty hard, did you?"

"Concussion?"

Ness nodded. "Hurt anywhere else?"

"No."

"Good," Ness said, and patted his shoulder. "Stay awake. We’ll get you out of here soon."

Luke watched as Ness raised his eyes in a bid for patience, before asking loudly, "Anyone have a drink bottle?"

There was instant silence. Ness grinned. "Gotcha."

"Now, Sebastian," Ness said with a false smile, "let’s take care of that other little problem, shall we?"

"‘We’ll’ just do that," Zeb retorted. He focussed on the wall. It was a lot easier with the light. "Light helps," he commented.

"No excuses this time," Randy muttered.

Zeb smiled. He focussed, and the smile faded as he concentrated. The whistle was starting up now, but he was shivering so hard he was having trouble holding it.

Ness was watching him closely. "Not much time," he whispered to Randy.

Randy nodded, and moved to the other side of the cavern where the Mahr lay. He was nearly there when, with a whirring of wings, the seemingly dead Mahr lifted from the rock.

Randy was taken by surprise. It grabbed at him with talon-like claws, and—the wings whirring ferociously, started tugging him back across the uneven floor.

A blaze of light entered Shea’s eyes. In a wave of fury, she waved her hand, and a brilliant white flare exploded in the Mahr’s face.

The Mahr, temporarily blinded by the burst, dropped Randy like a stone and flopped feebly, navigating now by sound. As the Nunus scurried across the distance, the Mahr followed the sweet whistle toward the cavern wall.

Luke watched, stunned, as first the Nunus, and then the man-eating moth, hit the wall. They seemed to cling, briefly, then were somehow sucked into, and disappeared through, the solid rock.

What amazed him most was the way the others ignored it.

Shea leaped over the uneven stalagmites and dropped to her knees at Randy’s side. Randy, half-blinded still by the intensity of that last light, grabbed her roughly and yanked her into his arms. "Help," he whispered. His hands fumbled over her breasts then worked their way south. "Blinded by your beauty," he explained.

She grinned.

Ness’ voice was long-sufferingly patient. "You okay, Randy?"

"Better all the time..." At Ness’ silence, he added, "A few scratches, and lots of—"

"—‘research for your next book’," Ness interrupted. "I need to get Zeb out of here. You up to it?"

In answer, Randy stumbled over, and cautiously lifted Zeb up off the ground. Zeb was limp, but Randy did his best to hold him steady. "Still a little blind," he admitted seriously.

"Shea?" Ness asked.

Shea took Randy’s arm. Her expression held a trace of remorse. "Sorry," she told him. To Ness she said, "Ready."

"What about him?" Randy asked, indicating Luke with a nod of his head.

"I’ll get him." Ness was taking Zeb’s pulse. He didn’t look happy. "Let’s hurry. The sooner we get him out of here, the better."

*

Luke lay there in the dark, the scent of stale urine strong in his nostrils. He shifted his leg, and heard the rustle of plastic bag and the tinkle of broken glass. They’d dumped him here in the alley, and hauled Zeb Devery away, presumably to the hospital.

He would have been feeling pretty damned vulnerable right now if he hadn’t overheard them talking. Somewhere nearby, Randy Markington was lurking; standing guard until help arrived.

It was the oddest rescue Luke had ever been involved in. They’d treated him well—brought him back to town to within three blocks of the hospital. Brushed him down before stealing his phone and ID.

Which brought a shift of movement in the alley.

Luke was still wondering it the following morning, when he woke up to John Colton’s unsmiling face.