Bingo. That had to be the Old Ones’ headquarters. I could have hugged Roxana. Now I’d find Kane and we’d check it out together. I started to move away.
“Vicky.” Daniel’s voice held a warning. “Stay away from there. I mean it.”
Before I could reply, a voice shouted from the crime scene. “Get that damn dog out of here!”
I looked in the direction of the yelling. Daniel’s partner flapped his arms, making shooing motions. Kane ran out from behind the taxi and into Back Street.
“Here,” I shouted. “Over here!”
Kane swiveled in midstride and trotted over to where we stood. He sat down and looked at me. His tail thumped on the pavement. Roxana’s charm dangled from his neck, resting against his chest.
Roxana didn’t say anything. Her almost imperceptible nod told me she wouldn’t give us away.
“That’s your dog?” Daniel asked, surprised.
“I’m just watching him. Temporarily.”
Daniel’s partner came puffing over, looking furious. “You’re responsible for that animal? What the hell do you think you’re doing, letting it run all over a crime scene?”
“Sorry. I thought he was waiting for me over there.” I gestured vaguely toward Berkeley Street. “With a serial killer in Boston, I figure I’m safer with him along.”
“Give her a break, Foster,” Daniel said.
Detective Foster narrowed his eyes at Kane. “What the hell kind of dog is that, anyway?”
The air around Kane shimmered. He still looked like a German shepherd to me, but someone with clairvoyant abilities might be able to see through Roxana’s charm. If Foster had clairvoyance . . .
“He’s a German shepherd,” I said.
“Looks like a goddamn werewolf to me.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I scoffed. “We’re weeks away from the full moon.”
Hand at her side, Roxana made surreptitious gestures with her fingers, strengthening the charm. “My grandparents used to breed German shepherds,” she said. “This animal is a beautiful example.”
Foster stared at Kane. Roxana’s fingers moved faster. Don’t growl at him, Kane. Whatever you do, don’t growl. Kane’s hackles rose, but he managed to swallow any growl before it escaped. He turned away from Foster, flicking out his tongue and licking my hand.
The detective grunted and looked away.
“I’ll take him home.”
“What the hell are you doing here, anyway?” Foster directed his glare my way. His neck veins looked ready to pop as he swiveled his head to Daniel. “And why are you consorting with a known paranormal?” He made paranormal sound like the equivalent of criminal. Talking to me could get Daniel in big trouble with Hampson.
“I was taking my dog for a walk,” I said, regarding Foster levelly. “I saw the commotion here and came over to see what was happening. Then I noticed Roxana and called her over. We’re, um, going shopping together next weekend and I wanted to confirm our plans.”
Foster dialed back his expression from furious to annoyed. He believed me. “We’ve got more important things happening here than a goddamn shopping trip.”
“I know. I’m going.” I slapped my thigh. “Come on, Killer.” We turned toward Berkeley Street.
“And that dog shouldn’t be running around like that!” Foster yelled behind us. “Boston has leash laws, you know.”
At that, Kane did growl, but we were already leaving. If Foster heard, he didn’t give any indication.Even under the cloak of Roxana’s diminution charm, Kane looked sleek and powerful. He moved with graceful strides, muscles rippling, each step strong and sure. Just try putting a leash on that.
26
KANE AND I HURRIED THROUGH THE STREETS OF BOSTON, trying to get to the Boylston Street T station before it closed for the night. As soon as we were out of sight of the crime scene, we broke into a jog, staying on Berkeley until we turned left on Boylston. We made one stop, at an all-night convenience store where I paid an exorbitant price for a portable flashlight. It was a rip-off, but I figured a flashlight was the must-have accessory for exploring abandoned subway tunnels. Well, that and a fistful of weapons, but I was already armed. A couple more blocks and we were there.
The entrances to the Boylston Street T station are housed in two small, narrow concrete buildings—one for the inbound track and one for the outbound—on the edge of Boston Common. Roxana said her ex had explored the old tunnel from the inbound station, so that’s where I headed. I pulled open the glass door and trotted down the stairs. The warm scent of the subway, exhaust and oil and urine, puffed up to meet me. Kane glided down the staircase beside me, silent as a shadow, keeping close to the wall. Near the bottom, he waited, crouching. I went over to talk to the attendant, who sat by the entry gates in a folding chair. He wore a tweed cap with his MBTA uniform and looked to be in his sixties.
“What time is the last train?” I asked, positioning myself between him and the stairs.
He checked his watch. I didn’t turn around, but I could feel Kane dash from the staircase.
“Should be through in about five, six minutes,” said the attendant. I thanked him and bought a ticket from the machine. I fed the ticket into the fare gate and passed through to the platform.
“Have a nice night,” the attendant said.
“You, too.”
“I will soon as I get home.” He grinned, displaying a gold tooth.
The narrow platform faced the tracks, where the train would arrive. At the back of the platform was a display of some old trolley cars, from when the T was called the Boston Light Railway. I pretended to be interested in them. The trolley in front of me was orange and cream, a bit dented and old-fashioned but not all that different from a modern subway car. The old trolleys sat on tracks that disappeared into a tunnel that ran behind the wall, curving out of sight. Was that the abandoned tunnel? I didn’t see any other candidates.
A fence separated the platform from the trolley display. It would be easy enough to climb except for one thing: The station attendant was watching me.
I turned my back on the old trolleys, strolled to the edge of the platform, and peered down the tunnel, like I was impatient for the train to arrive. I glanced at the attendant. He still watched me—there wasn’t much else to look at this time of night. I smiled. He smiled back, his gold tooth catching the light. I put my hands behind my back and rocked impatiently on the balls of my feet.
A rush of warm air ruffled my hair, and I heard a distant rumble. The breeze got stronger as the train approached. A few seconds later, I could see its headlight. I walked down the platform, away from the entry, like I wanted to get on the train near the driver.
The attendant stood and folded his chair. As soon as his back was to me, I vaulted the fence and scrambled behind one of the old trolley cars. The last train rolled into the station, brakes screaming, and slowed to a halt. I heard the doors slide open and footsteps cross the platform. Warning bells bonged, and the doors slid closed. The train revved, then pulled away from the station. I waited, rubbing my right wrist. Even with the splint, I’d hurt it again climbing over the fence. A shapeshifter can heal a broken bone within a day or two, but not if I kept reinjuring it. I needed to be more careful.
Within two minutes the station was silent. I crept along between the antique trolley cars and the wall, until I stepped into the tunnel beyond the display. The tunnel curved to the left; a triangular head poked around a corner on the right. Kane was waiting for me. He stood in a narrow corridor that led back into the station, coming out behind the stairs. Roxana had said part of the tunnel served as an emergency exit; Kane had discovered the easy way in.
As we moved farther into the tunnel, I pulled out a silver knife and held it ready in my left hand, my fingers tight on the grip.
The tunnel was a narrow, arched passageway, just big enough for a trolley to clear the walls. Lights, spaced every twenty feet or so, cast a yellow glow over the concrete. The old track was still embedded in the floor, but the place was swept clean. Nothing about the tunnel suggested a hidden lair for the ancient undead. It looked like what it was: a clean, well-maintained emergency exit.
Even so, I got that squeezed-in feeling, the weight of the walls and ceiling pressing on me. It wasn’t as bad as crawling into Deadtown the back way or being stuck deep in a pitch-black slate mine, but the constant pressure made me crave air and space.
Focus, Vicky. Watch for the bad guys. I shook off the claustrophobia as best I could, took a deep breath that wasn’t deep enough, and moved forward.
Kane went first, and I was happy to let him lead, with his sensitive nose and keen hearing. He’d be able to smell trouble before it leapt out snarling at us.
Regularly spaced, arched indentations appeared along the walls. The indentations were both narrow and shallow, no more than a foot deep. Perfect for a worker to squeeze into when a trolley passed, but lousy for hiding. Good. The fewer hiding places here, the better.
When the curve straightened out, I could see a long way down the lighted tunnel. There was nothing that looked like a hiding place for the Old Ones.
We went swiftly but cautiously through the tunnel. After a few minutes, we came to some stairs leading upward. It was the emergency exit, heading toward street level and safety. Beyond it, the tunnel stretched into darkness.
The walls crowded in a thousand times more closely.
I glanced up the brightly lit staircase, then squinted into the dark tunnel. Kane was already so deep into the shadows that I couldn’t see him. I took the flashlight from my pocket and flipped it on. I pointed the beam straight down at the floor, trying to keep the light as unobtrusive as possible.
A paw appeared in the circle of light at my feet, and then Kane ducked his head into the beam and gazed up at me. I’d never thought of wolves raising their eyebrows, but that was his expression. And I knew what he was thinking: that I could wait here, in the light, as he checked out the tunnel and reported back.
“No,” I whispered, “we stay together. I’m fine.” Kane could probably hear my heartbeat from where he stood, a riotous thumping that sounded anything but fine. “Give me a second.” Okay, so the lights stopped at the emergency exit. I had a working flashlight. And even if it failed, I wasn’t alone. Kane was here. His eyes shone with intelligence and loyalty, telling me I could rely on him.