"In this town, they might be able to. Remember, the ground is probably riddled with mine shafts."
"Yeah, but not all of them would be useable. And surely the rangers would have closed all the ones around the town. This place is a tourist attraction, remember, and they wouldn't want to risk lawsuits by having someone fall down an unused shaft."
"I doubt even the rangers would know the location of all the shafts. Hartwood had hundreds of operable mines in its heyday, and many of them were one man operations that didn't consider themselves accountable to anyone when it came to permits and plans."
"So where does that leave us?"
"Well, there's one thing in our favor—ten men are going to throw off a mass of body heat that won't be missed. We'll check the town, and if they aren't here, they have to be in the mines. Wait here." He opened the door and walked out, his gaze scanning the area before he looked over his shoulder. “It's safe."
She joined him as he walked down the steps. “You think Dunleavy plans to sacrifice them all? One big bang before the ceremony that brings his brother back to life?" His expression was grim when it met hers. “No. I think he plans an attack. On us. The aim being to kill me and capture you."
Wasn't that just what she needed to hear. “Dunleavy would surely know that ten humans wouldn't be much of a match for the two of us. I mean, those men aren't going to fight like they really mean it."
"We can't say that for sure. And he has at least one more shifter at his beck and call.” They reached the cross street. He hesitated, looking right and left, then tugged her left, heading down Green Street towards Fuller. “It does mean, however, that if we want to try to destroy that pentagram, we'd better do it before he realizes what we're up to."
"But that's only giving him time to plot his attack. Shouldn't we be trying to find those men and somehow short circuit his hold on them?"
"Unless my psi abilities kick into full gear, I haven't the strength to counter his magic's hold on their minds. As for tracking down the men, that could be exactly what he wants us to do."
"I very much suspect we'll be playing into his hands, no matter what we do,” she muttered, looking up as a bell chimed. Ahead, an old wooden church stood on the street corner. Though much of the redwood had faded with age, the building itself was in remarkable condition, especially considering the rundown condition of the surrounding buildings. The bell chimed again and she glanced up. The wind was hitting the bell tower with some force, and the old bell was swaying back and forth, as if it were being rung by some invisible hand. “That church almost looks as if it could still be in use." He shrugged. “Maybe the rangers have someone come in to do services for them." She chewed on her lip for a moment, studying the old building and wondering if the bell ringing was just a coincidence, Dunleavy playing tricks, or a hint from forces beyond the grave. Forces she'd never actually believed in until Michael came along and altered her perception about what was and wasn't real.
“Have you been inside?"
"Had no reason to. Why?"
"Well, if it's being used, there might be something useful inside. Like a cross or holy water?"
"The only cross that would be of any use would be one made of silver, and I doubt they'd risk displaying such a valuable item in that old church."
"But we might find holy water. And if we sprinkled the water around the outside of the pentagram, wouldn't it stop Dunleavy from entering the circle?"
"It'll probably have the same effect as silver—burn him, but not stop him."
"That's better than nothing, isn't it?"
"Anything that weakens him is good."
He tugged her towards the old church. They climbed the steps and discovered the entrance had thick wire mesh padlocked across it.
"Stand back,” he ordered.
She obeyed. He gripped one side of the mesh, yanking back on it hard. His muscles rippled under his jacket as the locks gave way and the wire pulled free from the wall. He pushed the wire out of the way, opened the door and ushered her inside.
Sunlight glittered through the stained glass windows, sending sprays of red and gold across the harsh white walls and washing warm rays of sunshine through the gloom. Dust motes danced in the light, but she wasn't sure if it was an indicator that someone had recently walked through here, or whether it was merely an aftereffect of the wind whistling past her ankles. The faded polish on the floorboards wasn't dusty enough to hold footprints and offered her no clues.
She stepped inside. Pews were stacked up against the walls, and down at the far end stood a raised dais and table. To one side of that was a door. The air itself was cold, colder than it was outside, but the faint smell of lavender teased her nostrils. She walked towards the dais, her footsteps echoing loudly. She half expected a priest to come running out, telling her to hush. The church had that sort of feel—like it was occupied and waiting. Yet the thickness of the dust suggested the opposite was true.
"This church hasn't been used for some time,” she commented. Though she spoke softly, her words seemed to resonate harshly in the silence. “I doubt we'd find any holy water or anything else of use in here."
"Probably not."
The edge in his voice made her glance over her shoulder. “What?" He'd only taken a few steps into the church, though she knew the old legend about vampires being unable to cross holy ground was untrue. “There's something here." She stopped, her heart leaping to the vicinity of her throat. “What?"
"I don't know. It just feels ... wrong."
Usually, she was the one getting the sensation of wrongness. “How wrong?"
"Evil wrong, as you would say."