"What the hell...?” She scooted over. The wall looked solid, unmarked. So where the hell did the pew go? “What happened?"
"Either the magic consumed it, or the magic is hiding something. Like another door. Try one of your knives."
She flicked the damaged blade down into her palm and cautiously eased it into the shimmer. Wisps of lightning crawled away from the knife, revealing what lay underneath the spell. Another door. Or the pieces of one. The pew had split the old door in half and both sections were flopping limply towards the deeper darkness haunting the space beyond.
She met Michael's gaze. “Why would Dunleavy be hiding this door?"
"I suspect we'll find the answer by investigating what lay beyond the door.” He raised a hand, tentatively touching the shimmery air. Flickers of light crawled away from his flesh. “It's a concealing spell, nothing more."
"The front door was padlocked, and no one's been in here for ages.” She hesitated, remembering the dust dancing through the sunlight.
"Dunleavy could easily have gotten the key,” Michael replied, obviously following her thoughts. “He has control of the rangers, remember. And since he had a devil spawn protecting the door to this room, there has to be something worth guarding down there."
"So we're going in?"
"We are. But me first."
She grinned. “I must be psychic. I just knew you were going to say that." He chuckled softly, brushed a kiss across her lips, then stepped through the shimmery air. “There's steps,” he said after a moment. “Only two or three of them, by the look of it." She stepped through the shimmer. Energy crawled across her skin, stinging like ants before fading away. The darkness crowding the room beyond the doorway gave way as her vampirelike night sight came on-line. There were shapes in the darkness below them, but she couldn't quite make out what they were.
“Looks as if there's a bit of a drop to the ground."
"Maybe.” He shifted, putting one foot on the first step, testing it before he put his full weight on it. He did the same with the next one. “They seem fairly secure."
He stepped onto the next one, but it was one step too many. With a splintering crack, the old wooden step gave way, and he dropped like stone into the darkness.
Chapter Thirteen
Michael hit the ground with enough force to jar just about every bone in his body. For a second, he lay on his back and listened to the silence.
Other than the odd scuttling beetle, there didn't seem to be anything down here with him.
"Michael?” Nikki appeared above him, her body backlit by the sunlight in the room behind her, making her blonde hair appear a more natural brown.
He blinked. Nikki ?
Emotion flooded the link, wrapping him so tightly in joy and love that for a moment he couldn't even breathe. Not that he actually needed to.
You remembered!
Finally. He grimaced. I'm sorry it took me so long . Better late than never. You hurt?
No. He pushed to his feet and looked around. The room was small and square, the walls bare rock. Old wooden shelves lined the wall near what was the stairs. They were filled with an assortment of old cans, bottles, and other whatnots.
On the opposite side of the room, what looked like another storage area had been carved into the rock itself, and in this sat a long wooden box. Unlike the shelving, the box looked brand new. He looked up at Nikki. It's not much of a jump. You want to come down or not?
How will I get back up?
I'll boost you.
Then I'll come down.
She knelt on the second step and climbed over the edge, hanging by her fingertips for several seconds before she let go. He steadied her as she hit the ground, keeping her upright. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him soundly. It was a kiss he was more than ready to return. Welcome back, she thought when they finally parted.
He smiled. I'm not sure all my memories have returned, but at least now I can call you something more than woman.
Thank God. She turned around, scanning the room in the same careful manner he had. What's that? She pointed towards the box. Flames leapt across her fingers as she did so, throwing warm light across the darkness.
I don't know yet. It seems to be lined inside, because I can't see past the wood. He walked over to the alcove. The box was about six feet long, made of rough-hewn planks, and was hinged and locked at the top.