Chapter 12 · The Prophecy Page Under the City

The tunnel smelled like dead rats and old piss. Mark's lungs burned. His knee screamed every time his boot hit stone.

Behind them, boots. Lots of boots. And torchlight bouncing off wet walls.

"Left," Veran hissed. He wasn't even breathing hard. Bastard.

Mark stumbled left. Ella caught his elbow. Her hand was shaking but her grip was solid.

The passage narrowed. Mark's shoulders scraped brick on both sides. He could hear shouting now. Close. Too close.

"They're gonna catch us." His voice came out in gasps.

"Shut up and run." That was Veran. Not mean. Just efficient.

The executor moved like he'd done this before. Probably had. Mark didn't want to think about how many people Veran had chased through tunnels just like this one.

Or how many he'd caught.

Ella pulled him around another corner. The air changed. Colder. Damper. Mark's boot went into water up to the ankle and he bit down on a yelp.

"We're under the old north ward," Ella whispered. "The church sealed these tunnels two hundred years ago."

"Why?"

"Because of what's down here."

Great. Fantastic.