“Show me,” I whispered, clenching my fists.
Owen stared deep into my eyes for a few seconds, then conceded. “All right,” he murmured.
He turned and began leading me to the front door. Puzzled, I followed, ignoring the solemn gazes of Thomas and Quinn as we entered the hallway leading out of Thomas’ lair.
14
Violet
I could feel the tension squirming within me like a python. I followed Owen down the hall and through the door leading to the sewage system. We stepped down to the concrete platform, small puddles of water splashing as our boots passed through them. Instead of leaping into the murky water in front of us, Owen guided me left, heading into a different tunnel.
The concrete platform we were on narrowed, until it was approximately the width of our feet. Alongside us, a river of the same filthy water flowed into the darkness. Owen was using his handheld as a flashlight, the dim screen illuminating our path through the darkness. The tunnel shot off to the left, but then curved back to the right, leading to another junction, similar to the one we’d left behind.
Owen shimmied along the ledge as we neared, and then made a quick leap to the platform in the middle of the room. Hesitating, I made my way along the ledge to the point he had and then pushed myself from the wall.
I cleared the narrow gap easily, landing solidly on my feet next to him. Ahead of us was another door, similar to the door of Thomas’ lair.
“I don’t get it… were these rooms pre-existing?” I asked.
Owen paused his ascent up the stairs and shot me an incredulous look. “What, do you think that we built them?”
I shrugged, uncertain of how to respond, because, while I hadn’t given it a great amount of thought, my thoughts had been along those lines.
Owen shook his head. “No, sorry, Violet. We’re good, but not that good. These tunnels and rooms existed before us. It’s part of the original design of the sewer system.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Why would anyone build rooms in a sewer system?”
Owen gave his own little shrug. “Does it matter? They were abandoned long ago, and almost no one knows they’re down here. It was Thomas who discovered them—by accident. The only records of them exist in physical form, and Thomas made sure to destroy them before he disappeared himself.”
I frowned, but accepted the information. A lot of building, demolition, and rebuilding had happened in the early years after our predecessors had discovered the area. It wasn’t too far-fetched to believe that the purpose of the rooms in the tunnel had been lost over time.
Owen’s shoulders shifted lower as he turned and reached for the door. I wet my lips nervously, the moment of levity forgotten.
Solomon was somewhere within this room. My heartbeat increased slightly as my stomach contracted. Now that I was here at the threshold, I wasn’t as certain as I had been minutes before. It was going to be bad, that much was sure.
I steeled myself as Owen pushed open the door and followed him as he moved into the oppressive darkness of the hall.
Unlike Thomas’ place, this room was not well-lit. If it hadn’t been for Owen’s handheld producing light, I would have probably freaked out. I was not comfortable with dark and cramped places anymore. As it was, the shadows being cast by his handheld were giving me the creeps.
Luckily, we were through within seconds, and the lighting in the center chamber massively improved compared to the darkness of the hall. Just like in Thomas’ lair, there were doors on either side of the room. The left room was dark, but the right room was lit.
Owen paused in the center of the room, eyeing me warily. “For the last time, Violet… maybe you shouldn’t see this.”
I tilted my chin up at him. I needed to see it. He sighed and moved over to the door, leaning against the wall next to it. He crossed his arms, not meeting my gaze.
I squared my shoulders and marched over to the door.
“Whatever you do, don’t open it,” Owen said softly, as I peered through the window.
Inside, the room was bare, save for a lamp and the large, lone figure of Solomon crouched in the corner. His back was to me, and he was squatting, rocking back and forth.
I shot a glance at Owen, who remained tight-lipped, still not looking at me. I frowned, and pressed my face closer to the window.
“Solomon?” I called gently through the door.
Immediately, Solomon froze. Several moments passed—enough time for me to start to call his name again—before his head whipped around so violently, I thought his neck would break from the speed.
But the face looking back at me was that of a stranger. Solomon’s normally impassive face had morphed into one of unspeakable rage. His eyes rolled wildly in his skull while he gnashed his teeth together, spittle forming at the corners of his mouth. He had torn away the top part of his invisibility suit in the front, exposing his chest, which was covered with long crisscrossed bloody lines. It didn’t take me long to put together that the wounds were self-inflicted. His fingers were red with blood, and it looked like he had been trying to claw his way into his own flesh.