At that, he shook his head and gave her a small not-quite smile. He told her, "No big discussion necessary. I just realized, there isn't anybody else I would have wanted at my back down here, aside from you."

Rough and outspoken as he was, his quiet statement hit her all the harder because of it. Despite the silent horror of what waited for them in the cavern, she felt her spirits lift, not a lot, but just enough.

She said softly, "I feel the same way. Julian, thank you so much for coming to get me. I'll be grateful to you for the rest of my life. Now, let's get the hell out of here."

Inclining his head, he strode forward. She followed as close as she could on his heels without actually treading on him.

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.

But in that moment, as they stood in the company of the rotting dead and he looked down into Melly's face, everything in his head and his heart underwent a complete reversal.

She wore a determined expression, her features set tight with endurance, but the shadows around her beautiful eyes were dark with hollows, and something grieving and fragile hovered underneath the surface.

Her expression filleted him.

He thought, this is my fault. All of these dead, all of the trauma that Melly has endured.

I should have known better. I knew Justine was creating some kind of trouble, but I didn't have any kind of proof that the Nightkind council would accept, so I did nothing. If it wasn't in my face, I could pretend that I didn't have to do anything about it.

So everything that Melly has endured and all the damage Justine has caused, it's all on me.

He had no words that could possibly make anything better. The only thing he could do was get Melly out as fast as he could, catch Justine and bury the dead.

Turning, he picked a path between the bodies to the next tunnel entrance. This time Melly joined him, and together they studied the floor around the entrance carefully.

He was about to suggest that they explore at least partway down the length of the tunnel when she released his hand, walked forward several feet past the entrance and knelt. Spitting on the tip of one forefinger, she ran it lightly across the middle of the floor and settled back on her heels to study the result.

Then she stood and showed him the filthy tip of her finger. "We can go down this way if you believe we should, but I think it hasn't been used very much. If it had been, the middle of the floor would be worn cleaner than this, don't you think?"

He did. Giving her an approving smile, he said, "I do, and I think we should move on too."

She gave him a crooked smile in reply and took his hand again when he offered it. They made their way to the third entrance.

This time, he knew immediately.

The scent of fresh air wafted against his cheek. He strode forward, tugging on her arm. "Come on. I think it's this way."

She increased her pace until she was almost running, and it was her turn to tug on his arm. He was more than happy to match her speed. They came to a few more forks, but now the current of fresh air was strong on both their faces.

He caught a hint of briny salt. "We're somewhere near the shoreline. Can you smell that?"

Her face brightened. "Yes. Oh gods, we're almost there."

They came to a curve that was so sharp it was almost a switchback, like a hairpin turn on a mountainside. Rounding the curve, he thought he saw something independent of the illumination from the flashlight.

"Hold up a second," he said.

With obvious reluctance, she pulled to a stop. He switched off the flashlight, and they waited.

Blackness so dense it was almost velvety pressed against his eyes, until...

Ahead, a lighter gray appeared as his eyes adjusted to the lack of light.

"There!" Melly exclaimed. She clutched his arm. "Do you see it?"

"I do." Jubilant, he swept her into his arms and hugged her tight.

As the light grew stronger, some of Julian's jubilation faded. The growing illumination was diffuse and pale, not the sharp halogen glow of streetlamps at night.

If it wasn't daylight outside, then it would be daylight soon perhaps too soon for him to be able to leave the protection of the tunnel. He had no protective clothing with him and couldn't afford to be caught outside without it. Melly might have to go on without him.

From her excitement, he could tell that the thought hadn't occurred to her yet, so he said nothing. They would have to face the reality of it all too soon.

As they walked on, the tunnel began to shrink in size. The walls on either side of them narrowed, and Julian had to duck his head in order to continue.

"There's some kind of hole in the ceiling. That's the way out." Melly's voice shook.

She was right. As they got closer, the details became apparent. The hole was covered with a grate.

They came to stand directly underneath it. Thankfully, the light remained pale and gray. He guessed it was the light of predawn. The grate was rectangular and looked like it was made out of sturdy iron. It would be difficult, perhaps even impossible, for a human to move it without a crowbar.

He handed his flashlight to Melly, reached up to grasp the grate with both hands and pushed up. It was heavy to shift even for him. With a scraping sound, it popped out of place, and he pushed it to one side until they had a hole big enough to fit through.

He turned to Melly, laced the fingers of his hands together and bent to offer them to her. "Time to step up."

Setting the flashlight and her grocery bag aside, she placed one narrow foot in his grip and braced herself with both hands on his shoulders. Straightening, he lifted her until she could hoist herself out of the hole. Her weight left his hands. Tilting his head back, he watched her disappear.

Almost immediately her disheveled head popped into view again as she looked into the hole. Her expression had turned tense again, her gaze dark with worry. "Julian, it's almost dawn."

He nodded. "I know. Tell me what you can see."

She glanced around. "We're either in an alleyway, or a single-lane road. The area's deserted. There are buildings all around that look like warehouses." She bent over to peer into the hole at him again. "This spot is deep enough in shadow there won't be direct sunlight for at least fifteen minutes, maybe more, only I'm no good at judging that sort of thing. Please come out and judge for yourself."

"All right. Back up." When she disappeared from sight again, he leaped up, grabbed the edge of the hole and levered himself out to crouch warily beside her.

One quick glance around told him she was right, and he relaxed marginally. Their immediate surroundings were intensely industrial. Weeds sprouted in cracks in the asphalt, and there was a run-down quality to the buildings, giving the scene an air of desolation. If it had been a thriving warehouse district, the area would be bustling by now as businesses readied for the workday, but there was no movement in sight.

He straightened to a standing position, and she joined him. "I'm not sure, but I think I know where we are, at least in a general sense," he told her. "There's an area in southeastern San Francisco that's been marginalized for years. None of our attempts at revitalization have taken hold yet. If we're where I think we are, we're anywhere from six to ten miles away from Nob Hill."

She wiped her face. "On the one hand, that's not very far away. But on the other hand, that's much too far to travel when sunlight is going to appear overhead very soon now."

He turned to face her. "You can travel it. Direct daylight won't stop you."

At the first word out of his mouth, she started shaking her head. "No. I'm not going to leave you."

"You might not have a choice," he said. "If you go, you can at least get someone to come back with protective clothing, along with a vehicle that has tinted glass."

All the fragility and grief came to the surface in the look she gave him. "And leave you to do what?" she asked, her voice raw with exhaustion. "Climb back into that hellhole to wait for me?"

"I have more options than just the hellhole," he said, gesturing to the nearby buildings.

As she opened her mouth to reply, a quick movement of air brushed against the bare skin of his back.

It was all the warning he got.

Instinct made him spin on his heel. Even as he did, he felt a piercing pain in his lower back. It went very deep.

Arching, he grabbed at the pain while punching out with his other hand. He had no time to see his attacker or take aim. Instead, he struck out blindly. As his questing fingers curled around something short and hard that protruded from his lower back, he landed a glancing blow on something solid.

A gasped curse sounded in his ear. He yanked out the protrusion and glanced down at it. It was a knife. He'd been stabbed.

His attacker struck out again. This time, catching the movement out of the corner of his eye as a black blur, he had just enough time to leap back. Fire bloomed along the surface of his abdomen. He had been cut again, but this time it was a surface wound and the damage was minimal.

Another fighter might have continued to dance back so that he could parry while taking a minimum amount of damage. In another fight, he might have done the same.

But not this fight. He lunged toward his attacker, as hard and as fast as he possibly could. He connected in a body slam, sending them both to the ground.

Visual impressions came to him in almost instantaneous snapshots. His attacker wore all black from head to toe. The black hood and outfit were sun-protective clothing, and physically, she was shorter and slighter of build than he. But she was every bit as fast, and in his current weakened state, she was quite a bit stronger.

Justine had come to locate her errant assistant.

His existence narrowed until he had just one objective grabbing hold of her and not letting go.

It was a vicious scramble. She flipped them both bodily, until he slammed into the pavement underneath their combined weights. He fought to get the chance to use the knife she had lost when she had stabbed him in the kidney, but he didn't dare loosen his hold long enough to accomplish a strike.

She feinted with her other knife, and he checked it with one shoulder. The blade bit deep, slicing through muscle to scrape the bone. He headbutted her and heard cartilage crunch.

The entire struggle, he knew, would have been nothing more than a confusing blur to Melly.

Telepathically, he shouted at her, We can't risk her getting hold of you, or she'll use you against me again. RUN!

Twelve.