We moved along the tunnel, shambling and weaving. The dirt beneath our feet gave in to our every step, adding an unfortunate suction effect that made walking harder. My legs began to ache.

I could make out the rough tunnel walls but not much else—it was just a long dark corridor leading God knew where. I was a little disappointed to see there were no cryptic inscriptions on the walls, no dramatic warnings or symbols to ward off enemies. Then we came to a turn where I could detect a slight glow of light around the corner.

Blout was beside me. “What the fuck?”

I walked toward the glow, the others following. Blout had his revolver drawn.

The light was dim and yellow, most definitely not natural. It had the erratic blink of a bulb casting twitching shadows in all directions. We slowed as we neared the corner, taking each sticky step carefully. Just before we reached the source of the light, I stepped on something that crinkled.

I grabbed the object from beneath my foot. “You were right, Mo’.”

Mo’Lock leaned over my shoulder as I presented an empty plastic bag. The logo was a smirking cartoon cow, with “Good Cow Top Soil” printed underneath. The ghoul grinned at me. I threw the bag to the ground and moved around the corner.

There were lights lining the hall, scores of naked bulbs hanging from thick bundles of power cords, but they weren’t there to illuminate the path. They were grow lights. Countless plants completely covered the tunnel walls, crammed into every inch of space.

The variety of plants was unbelievable, but all were herbs and roots common to all forms of magic and voodoo. Some, like basil and coriander, were common cooking herbs that also had uses in the dark arts. Others were nastier: hemlock, a deadly poison, and a large cluster of the rare aconite plant, also poisonous.

I pointed at the cluster. “Greek legend says that plant came from the mouth of Cerberus . . .”

“. . . the dog that guarded the lower world,” Mo’Lock nodded and felt the leaf of the plant next to its hood-shaped flower. “Another misplaced myth, a random use of legend and witchcraft.”

I slapped his shoulder. “Now you’re getting it.”

“Not me,” Blout spat. “Care to fill me in?”

I held my finger to my mouth. Blout was yelling, and I thought we’d better keep it down. We were close.

“It’s been like this throughout the case, Blout. The voodoo charm with the Egyptian symbol, the writings in Cain’s books crossing Greek legend with witchcraft, and now this. This plant’s Greek origin fits the needs of the perp—to guard this tunnel— but . . .”

Mo’Lock broke in, “. . . in reality the plant is used for treating gout and rheumatism.”

Blout shook his head violently. “I’m completely lost. Is our perp using stuff wrong because he thinks it’s something that it isn’t?”

“Maybe, maybe not. It all depends on what you believe.”