The Scribe
Page 81

“That goes underground!” she hissed. It was one thing to stroll through the Basilica Cistern with its dramatic columns and modern walkways, but the Theodosius Cistern looked like nothing but a black cave. “Malachi…”
“We’ll watch and wait for now,” he said, twisting off the lock that held the grate closed. He opened the door, and Ava was grateful the calls of the muezzin hid the rusty groan. “We can see the entrance of the hotel from here. There are too many to fight alone while I’m not at full strength. If we run, they’ll catch us. Until Max and Damien get here, we need to hide.”
She knew that ritual had been a bad idea. The thought of a weakened Malachi sent her heart into overdrive. “Did you text them already?”
“Yes.” He shoved her farther into the shadowed passageway, and Ava almost tripped over the heavy rubber boots covered in mud that the workmen had left on the platform. “They should come soon. They’ll create a distraction, and we’ll grab the car. We can figure out documents later. Right now, I just want you out of this city.”
“Okay.”
Malachi sucked in his breath and darted back from the door. “Brage.”
Ava’s heart sank. From the darkness of the metal walkway, she could see the blond Grigori soldier walking out of the Antea Hotel and turning his head to look up and down the street. His eyes were narrowed with purpose.
The soldiers knew they were nearby.
Malachi shot off another text to Max, who had yet to respond. Where the hell was he? Annoyance and worry competed in his mind. What had happened to the documents? Had Maxim been set up? And further, how could Malachi get the car from the hotel while avoiding the dozen or more Grigori who had taken up residence at the intersection?
When he realized who the blond Grigori outside the hotel was, thoughts of the car fled. He had to get Ava away. Eyes darting into the blackness, he racked his memories for everything he knew about the cistern where they were hiding. It was an old one, and he suspected it connected to the Valens Aqueduct, the ancient waterway the Romans had built to transport water throughout the city. Many of the cisterns still had tunnels leading between them. Was the Theodosius one of them?
Malachi tossed one last look toward the square. The sky was growing dim, and the street lights in front of the hotel had switched on. He could see Brage and the other Grigori milling in front of the hotel. He could wait for them to leave the square, or he could look for another way out.
He looked down to the boots at their feet, then bent down to slip on the biggest pair, handing another to Ava.
“Put these on.”
“Where are we going?”
“Down.” He saw a small flashlight near the edge of the platform. Flicking it on and hoping the light wouldn’t be seen from outside, he peered over the edge. “We’re going to see if there’s a tunnel.”
“What?” Ava squeaked. She might have protested, but she was already pulling on the boots. “We’re going farther down? Shouldn’t we wait here for Max and Damien?”
“And wait for Brage to notice the broken lock on the gate?” Standing in the boots, he tested them, finding himself not unbearably clumsy in the yellow rubber footwear. “There could be a tunnel out of here. There often are in these old places. And if they do find us in here, I want a wall to my back and you behind me. It’ll be easier to kill them if I don’t have to worry about them coming from all directions.”
He didn’t mention Brage wielding an angelic blade. That was the real problem.
“I knew you shouldn’t have given me a bunch of your magic,” she said, pulling on the second boot.
Malachi was doubly glad that he had. If she was injured in all this, improved healing could be the difference between life and death for her. And with Ava’s improved eyesight, they barely had to use the flashlight.
“Come on.” He took her hand and started down the creaking staircase.
“Are you sure this thing is safe?”
“Workmen have been climbing up and down on this for months, so I hope so.” He paused when one of the steps wobbled under his feet. Then he started climbing at a slower pace. “We’re not that heavy. We’ll be fine.”
Once they’d safely reached the bottom, Malachi turned on the light. Sweeping it from side to side, he could see the soaring columns belted by steel bands for reinforcement, marching like grey soldiers into the black. The domes of the cistern towered over them, the ancient brick causing the slightest noise to echo. He could hear water dripping overhead and the splash of muddy water as Ava walked behind him.
“They’re renovating it right now,” he whispered, “but it used to have as much water as the Basilica Cistern.”
“Looks more like mud to me.” She almost tripped over a shovel leaning against the wall. “Holy cow, it stinks.”
“People throw all sorts of things down here. Try not to think about it.”
Malachi carefully led them around the periphery of the cavern, but he couldn’t spot a tunnel or other exit. If there had been one, it was closed off or under mud or brick. The water grew deeper the farther they went, and thick mud sucked at their feet.
“Anything from Max or Damien?” she whispered behind him.
He glanced at the phone. “I can’t get any reception down here. I told them where we were hiding. I just hope they get the message.”
“If they don’t… then what?”