I jumped down the last few feet and was steadied by my brother. I gave him a nod of thanks and pulled the small flashlight from my pocket. Lugh had wanted to bring the helmets and headlamps he kept in the car, but Locryn—Brega’s gnarled and surprisingly bald husband, given dwarves’ reputation for hairiness—had assured us the tunnels were relatively safe.

It was the “relatively” that worried me.

Once Brega had joined us, Locryn gave us a gruff “This way” and headed down the passage, his light bobbing unevenly across the brick and metal walls. Our footsteps echoed in the musty and rather odorous air, and somewhere up ahead, water dripped. These tunnels—which had once provided safe passage to and from the various underground military installations during the Second World War—crisscrossed large sections of Old Deva. I was willing to bet most wouldn’t be in the same pristine condition as this one.

As we moved deeper into the complex, the bricks gave way to stone and water trickled underfoot. Though we passed several offshoot tunnels that showed obvious signs of collapse, ours continued to look structurally sound.

I really, really hoped it remained that way.

We trudged on, the air getting colder and fouler while the moss that covered the stone underfoot made each step that much more treacherous. It forced me to keep an eye on where I was placing my feet rather than what might lie ahead, and I suspected that was a good thing. Especially if what lay ahead was a collapse that would make this journey a whole lot harder than it currently was.

As we entered a three-way junction, the slightest wisp of oddly moving air caught my attention. I paused and quickly swept the light around. If I hadn’t lost all sense of direction, the tunnel to our right headed toward Nialle’s. While it looked passable, the same could not be said for the one directly ahead. It had partially collapsed, the bricks around the door’s structure filling the doorway even though the rusted support beam remained in place. The final tunnel led into some sort of communications room, if the barely visible bits of old machines were anything to go by.

The unusual play of air had come from that direction, but it had stopped the minute I shone the light that way. Nothing appeared to be moving. Nothing seemed out of place. And yet...

Lugh stopped. “Beth? Something wrong?”

I hesitated. “I think something moved.”

Brega sniffed. “It was a rat. Disappeared into that room as we came out of the tunnel.”

I glanced at her sharply. “From what direction? Behind us?”

“Hard to say.” She frowned at me. “Why are you so worried about goddamn rats?”

“Because I’ve been attacked by the bastards before.” I glanced at Lugh. “And the movement in the air felt wrong.”

Understanding ran across his expression. The ability to hear the whispers of the wind and to use her as a weapon was one I’d only recently gained. While second sight ran through our family, the storm power had apparently come from my father’s side. Not that I really knew anything more about him than his name—Ambisagrus—and the fact that he and Mom had had a brief dalliance which had left her pregnant with me.