So it was agreed—the heart would keep beating for now. I locked up the box and we all headed deeper into the tunnel.

We walked on, deeper and deeper, and I cursed myself for not buying more liquor. I had no idea how long the effects of the alcohol would protect us, and finding out might mean dying. I thought about the leather case in my sock, but shoved the thought away. That was the last resort. Anyway, I still had seven painkillers. If the pain got bad enough I’d convince Blout or the ghoul to take one, like it or not.

I laughed darkly to myself, thinking that only I could stumble onto a case where excessive drug and alcohol use was the best way to stay alive. But here I was with a straight-arrow cop and a hundred-year-old ghoul, drunk in the sewers beneath the nation’s capital.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, we came to the intersection Mo’Lock had described last week. I saw the crudely cut hole, definitely not the work of a pro. The edges were rough and jagged and we had to be careful stepping through.

Like the hole itself, the tunnel on the other side was rough hewn. The walls were rock-encrusted, the floors and ceiling uneven and craggy. Support beams appeared to be stolen phone poles and billboard posts, giving it the look of a derelict coal mine. It was very small and confined, and the threat of claustrophobia dug at me like a creeping itch.

As we walked along, the floor gradually began to decline, until the angle was so severe walking became difficult. We all leaned backward, trying very hard not to fall on our butts and wind up sliding out of control.

“Can we take a break?”

It was Blout, sweaty and out of breath. I was sweating too, my shirt soaked through. “Sure, but let’s make it quick.”

I wanted to ditch my coat, but needed the things in its pockets: mace, a lock blade, blackjack, a small backup pistol, and several clips for the 9mm. If I tried to load all that into my pants I’d look like I shit myself.

“How’s everybody’s head?” I said as I slid down the wall, gripping protruding rocks until I was sitting.

“I’m okay,” Blout said.

The ghoul nodded.

I told them I had the Percocet if they needed it, but both waved me off. I felt like a goddamn pusher.

After a minute’s rest, Blout signaled he was ready to continue. As soon as I planted my foot for my first step, I fell and immediately began sliding. I held the box with one arm and with the other I grabbed wildly for anything that would stop my skid. Anything turned out to be Blout’s pant cuff, and then we were both tumbling out of control down the slope.

The next moment there was nothing beneath us except absolutely black air. As we hurtled downward, all I could do was hold on to the box and brace for impact.