Chapter 9 - The Catacombs
They emerged from the wet cavern into the subterranean corridors of the fortress. Damp moss clung to ancient brickwork, and the air smelled heavily of incense, rotting flowers, and dried blood.
Elena checked her watch. "The ritual begins at midnight. We have twenty-two minutes before Julian drains Lily's arterial vein."
Dante tightened his grip on his shotgun, his jaw set in pure rage. "Lead the way."
They moved through the labyrinthine catacombs in a tight diamond formation. Grace walked at the front, her newly heightened senses picking up vibrations through the stone floor long before human eyes could detect danger.
"Two guards around the corner," Grace whispered, halting with a closed fist raised. "One is smoking. The other has an irregular heartbeat. He's anxious."
Dante rounded the corner at a dead sprint. Before the guards could raise their rifles, he fired two silenced slugs from his shotgun. The heavy rounds pulverized their chest armor, slamming them into the brick wall without a scream. Elena cleared the corner behind him, slicing the throat of a third sentry who had stepped out from an alcove to investigate.
"Clean," Elena whispered, wiping her blade on the dead man's uniform.
"This is too easy," Dante muttered, reloading two shells into the magazine tube. "Julian doesn't leave his flank wide open like this."
As if responding to his words, heavy iron portcullises slammed down simultaneously in front and behind them, trapping the three of them in a narrow, ten-yard corridor.
From the speaker mounted on the arched ceiling, Julian’s mocking laughter hissed through static. "You always were predictable, Dante. Did you really think you could infiltrate my sanctum through the sewer tunnels your grandfather dug?"
A sickening, sweet smell began pouring from vents near the floor.
"Nerve gas," Elena gasped, dropping to one knee as her vision blurred. "Filter masks—now!"
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Grace looked at the ceiling vents, then turned toward the iron bars behind them. "Father. It isn't nerve gas. Look at the shadows."
Through the heavy haze, Dante saw eyes glowing in the dark—dozens of starved, chained guard dogs, their muzzles foaming as the portcullis holding them back began to lift.
