In order to see where to walk, he had to keep the flashlight trained on the floor. She tried not to look down, but after she stumbled twice, she was forced to watch where she put her feet as well. The images burned into her brain.
The cavern was so large, filled with tragedy and implacably silent. It was the hardest walk she had ever taken, and she felt sick and saddened to the bottom of her soul.
Julian said gently, Okay with you if we start with the left tunnel? If it doesn’t lead to the way out, we can work our way around the cavern clockwise.
For some reason he had asked it telepathically. Maybe he felt the weight of silence was what the dead deserved. If so, she couldn’t argue with that. Breathing through her mouth, she nodded then realized he couldn’t see her.
Yes, she said shortly.
He adjusted course, and she followed. After a moment, he held one hand behind him, fingers open in invitation.
“I told you I’m fine.” She spoke out loud, but if she had known how thin and strained her voice would sound, she wouldn’t have.
“Maybe I’m not,” he said very quietly. “I’ve seen horrible things before, and some were just as bad if not worse than this. But none of them makes this any less horrible.”
She grabbed his hand, and he squeezed hers so tightly she felt the blood pound in her fingers.
“It’s not right that they’ve been thrown aside like this,” she whispered. “They were people.”
“I’ll make sure each one gets identified so they can go home to their families.” Like her, he kept his voice low. “If they don’t have families, I’ll see they get proper burials.”
“Thank you.”
After what seemed like forever, they finally came close to the opening of the first tunnel. Julian came to a stop, which meant she did too, but she didn’t stop until she had walked right up to his back. Then she leaned against him, burying her face between his shoulder blades. She had no idea why they had stopped but trusted that Julian would let her know when they could move forward again.
“All right,” he said. “We’re moving on to the second tunnel now.”
She lifted her head. “Why?”
“There are a couple of bodies across the mouth of that entrance,” he told her. “They’re pretty decayed. It looks like the passageway isn’t used very often. We can come back to it if we have to.”
“That makes sense. Maybe we can be quicker if we check out the entrances to all the tunnels.” She tried to reclaim her hand, but his hold on her was like iron. “You can let go now. I’ll work from the right, and you can work from the left.”
He turned to face her, keeping his body close in front of hers. “As quickly as I want to get out of here, and I know you do too, I would rather we stay close. I don’t want to have to get all the way across the cavern to you if something happens.”
When she tilted her head back to look into his face, she found herself nose-to-nose with him. His proximity, along with the force of his personality, helped to push back the rest of the scene. Again, not much, but just enough.
“I didn’t think of that,” she muttered.
He put a hand on her shoulder, pressing down so she felt the heavy, solid weight of his touch.
“Only a few more moments,” he told her. “We’re very close now.”
“I believe you,” she said. And she did.
He looked calm, strong and steady. He looked nothing like how she felt, which was strung out and heartsick, and half-crazed to be anywhere else but standing where she was in a giant, delinquent tomb. Looking up at him, she saw another glimpse of why he would have been such a good general and leader in times of war.
He would have been a rock for people to look to when everything in their world went to hell. He would have been the person that people focused on when things had become unendurable, because somehow, they knew he would find a path to get them through.
He had become that person now, for her.
When he held out his hand to her again, she took it.
A very long time ago, when he had still been a young human, Julian had become experienced at putting certain barriers up between him and the rest of the world. Dealing with the constant realities of single combat, and then the more global consequences of war, meant keeping a tight rein on any impulse to empathize.
Even so, when crimes occurred, he never, ever blamed the victim. If you did bad shit, that was squarely on you, and you had better be running hard and watching over your shoulder if it was his job to bring you down.
The whole time he had been down here in the tunnels, he had kept the blame squarely where he believed it belonged — on Justine. And he was determined to get her for it, with a wrath as righteous as any of the gods.