God of Destruction by Alyssa Adamson Page B

girl,” she shook her head, her accent
showing through. “Not too smart, though.”
    “Russell,” Claire hissed, turning around the
corner, back the way they’d come, peering around the walls of human
remains, careful not to touch. Quietly, she sang, “Russell! Where
are you?”
    “Claire?” his voice called back from the
other side of the dividers. “Come look at this, it’s amazing !”
    Rolling her eyes, she followed the sound of
his voice, watching the tour group vanish in the tunnel far ahead
of her. “We have to c…catch up with the tour group or we’ll get
i…in trouble,” she hissed, leaning over the rope divider to search
the room. “You’re gonna g…get hurt in there. Or, worse, you’ll b…break something! Get out of there.”
    The room was circular, unlike the halls, but
lined completely with bones in crisscrossing patterns beneath
hundreds of skulls and a sign, written in French. The ceiling
seemed to be supported by a beam of remains in the same pattern,
occupying a great deal of the center of the room. It truly was
amazing, she thought; if you were Michael Meyers. It was spooky,
she mused, until the rooms started getting mysteriously darker;
then it was terrifying.
    She looked around, hearing screams from the
tour group up ahead when the bright spotlights illuminating the
halls started going out with loud shatters.
    One. After. The. Other.
    “Everyone, do not panic!” the tour guide
shrieked over the screams of terror. “We’re just experiencing some
technical difficulties. Everyone, please just hold onto someone
next to you and we will find the exit, just up ahead.”
    “Claire!” Alex yelled.
    “I’m over here,” she called back.
    Claire didn’t scream when the last light went
out. She grasped the rope tightly in her hands, forcing her eyes to
adjust to the darkness, and stayed completely still. Another wail
echoed through the catacombs and, though she shook with terror,
Claire made no move to run, knowing she would never be able to
navigate the halls without a guide.
    “Russ?” she whispered, her voice loud in the
silence. She was greeted with no answer. “Russell, are you
okay?”
    She’d resolved to step over the divider and
find him when a sudden grip on her shirt sent her sprawling into
the room, scraping her face when it met the floor.
    She shrieked.
    A phantom hand grabbed her arm, dragging her
across the rough floor before it, gently, dropped her beside the
ancient wall. She frantically tried to pull herself to her feet,
finding a hard body obstructing her path when she made to run. The
ground swirled up to meet her again.
    “Be careful,” a thick Czech accent ordered as
the clack of high heels echoed through the room. “Your instructions
clearly said that she was not to be unharmed, did they not?”
    “She tried to escape—” the man above her
reasoned.
    “She weighs one-twenty at the most ,
Vilmore. I am sure you can handle her without violence,” the
woman growled. “Put her next to that one.”
    Firelight suddenly illuminated the room.
Russell stood at the entrance where the rope divider had been torn
through, holding a lit torch in his hand as he walked around the
room. Wordlessly, he lit the torches held by the men posted around
the center beam. Claire wanted to scream for answers, but she
couldn’t make the words come to her. A groan in her ear made her
jump, nearly falling over when she turned to investigate.
    Alex sat beside her, forehead trickling with
blood. Her eyes were closed.
    “Oh my God! Alex?” Claire gasped, getting up
to help her until the phantom hand, now attached to a human arm,
fell onto her shoulder. She fell harshly back to the ground.
“What’re you d…doing?” she finally demanded, struggling to shake
him off.
    “Shut up,” the giant man holding her down
spat. “Enjoy the show.”
    “Yes,” Natalia repeated, pulling a folded
square of yellow paper from her bra. “Enjoy the show.”
    “Natalia?!” Claire breathed.