Arturo was about as happy as a wet hen about my decision to head into the mines, but I was the holy Vigil, summoned by the god he revered, which made me the de facto shot caller. Renholm, on the other hand, was a prissy little dickhead and refused to venture into the tunnels without his furball friend, Sir Jacob-Francis, which is how I wound up with a grumpy cat the size of a small dog clinging to my shoulder, his tail swishing all up in my grill while I clambered hand over foot down a set of iron rungs set into the stone walls.

The shaft descended for a dozen feet before dumping me and the cat into a dark, stony corridor, lit only by a sunbeam streaming in from the opening above. Thanks to my supernaturally enhanced senses, that shaft of light was more than enough to let me get a gander at what we were working with. Rough brown walls—limestone from the looks of ’em—formed a narrow hallway that dropped away at a steady decline for fifty feet or so, before doglegging right.

I scooted away as Arturo thudded onto the dusty ground in a clatter of metal that sounded like someone had dropped a bagful of soup cans.

“I’m guessing the stealthy approach isn’t your strong suit?” I asked.

“I’m built like a bear,” the man said earnestly. “Someone my size wasn’t made for hiding or sneaking.” He fell silent, glancing around. “I don’t like this. It feels…” He trailed off.

“It feels like we’re onto something,” I said, taking a knee. “More blood.” I pointed at a trail of small brown droplets leading further into the cave. “It definitely came this way.”

“I don’t doubt you, Vigil,” he said seriously. “Just the opposite. I fear you’re correct. I’ll follow your lead, even if it is foolhardy in my estimation, but I won’t lie. My sincere hope is that the creature has gone to ground and is back in hiding. I would love for another few weeks to train you properly before we run afoul of the beast again.”

“Come again, Padre?” I asked, genuinely confused. “I don’t understand. Why would the creature hide for another few weeks?”

He shrugged. “I can’t tell you the why of it, Vigil. Why does any Mortka do the things they do? But I can tell you that’s the pattern. It comes. It feasts. We find a dead body. Then the creature disappears for a fortnight and the cycle begins anew.”

“A fortnight?”

“Two weeks.”

“Yeah, I know what a fortnight is. I’m asking you if that’s the same interval each time.”

Arturo nodded. “It’s as regular as Incanto clockwork. We’ve had eight victims so far, including young Minna, and each attack has followed the same pattern.”

Something about that didn’t sit right with me. Why would this thing only attack once every two weeks? That was such a random, but oddly specific amount of time. I was sure it was a piece of the puzzle, even if I had no idea how it fit into the rest of the picture. I tucked the odd detail into the back of my mind and guided us deeper into the cave system. Renholm prowled along beside me on his cat, and Arturo brought up the rear. The light faded damned quick, casting us into near darkness by the time we rounded the first bend.

Even with the miniscule amount of light trickling in, I didn’t have much problem navigating, and neither did Renholm or the cat. I was prepared to take Arturo by the hand and guide him through the twisting warren of passageways, but surprisingly he didn’t seem to need the help. That should’ve been impossible for someone who was strictly swimming on the human side of the gene pool. First the fancy banishment spell, now this.

The priest had some kind of magic at his disposal, I was sure of it, though what flavor of magic he was, I still couldn’t say.

There were several passages that branched off, but Renholm was more than happy to scout the way for us, flitting off at damned near the speed of light. Each time, he would return after a few minutes. Dead ends, one and all, no sign of the creature. We’d been slowly trekking through the tunnels for fifteen minutes or so when I spotted the first telltale sign that something else was seriously off. We rounded a sharp bend and I found torches on the walls. And these weren’t dry rotted relics from another age. The wood was fresh and so were the iron mounts securing them to the walls at thirty-foot intervals.

I pulled one down and examined the linen wrapped snugly around the tip. Fresh, and still damp. I lifted it to my nose—the sharp scent of lime, the pungent aroma of sulfur, and something else I couldn’t quite place. Crude oil, maybe. Just like when using Kinetic Blast, I pulled on the ball of energy residing in the center of my chest, but instead of summoning a typhoon of force, I held back, calling forth only a trickle of Arcana. I shaped it with my mind, willing a small ball of orange flame to appear in the palm of my hand.

Sweat broke out across my forehead and my Arcana gauge dipped as the fire flickered to life. The torch caught with a flare and I quickly released my spell. Garish yellow light, painfully bright after the dark of the cavern, splashed over the walls and floor.

“Any idea why there would be fresh torches down here?” I asked, cocking an eyebrow at the priest.

“I haven’t the faintest,” he said, blinking against the sudden burst of illumination. “Occasionally line pickers like Marcus will venture down here, but they never come this deep into the cave system. They would risk running into the Stone Spiders.” He frowned in thought. “They aren’t this organized, either. Mostly they pan along the underground creeks, looking for any small fragments of Selitrium.”

“These mines produce Selitrium,” I said, freezing. Finally, something I knew something about. I had a whole barrel full of powdered Selitrium back in my Soul Vault.

“As I said, they produced Selitrium,” the priest corrected. “One of the few places that did. It’s far rarer than gold, though its use is clouded in mystery. Alchemists covet it, as do the Magi, but the Citadel of Custodians are the largest buyer of the substance by far. It’s used by…” He paused, his frown deepening. “Well, Vigils mostly. But these mines have been dry for twenty years. The superstitious folk of Ironmoor believe the land was cursed.”

“Sounds like a load of bullshit,” I said as we continued deeper into the warren of winding limestone passages, “because this mine is active. Someone sure thinks the curse is gone.”

Not long after finding the first torches we headed through a reinforced archway and into a large central cavern loaded to the gills with mining equipment. Wheelbarrows and pickaxes. Hammers, stakes, rope. Oil lamps and more torches. I found a barrel sitting against the wall and piled inside were lumps of something that looked like coal but wasn’t. Kentucky was coal country, and I could spot a lump at a thousand yards. But I’d recently come across some of this stuff as well.

When I held up a piece and turned it in my hand, a small notice appeared: [1 x Selitrium Ore, Fabrication Ingredient]. Not only was there ore in these here mines, but someone had set up a considerable operation to get it out. Several more passageways snaked off from this one, but one large central pathway, lined with more torches, shot due west.

“That looks like the main way in and outta this place,” I said. “And unless I’m all kinds of turned around, I’m thinking that tunnel passes below the outer walls. It probably lets out not too damned far from that Grass Hound ring we cleared.”

“You’re not wrong,” Arturo said slowly. “Chances are that’s the tunnel Marcus was heading for.”

“So maybe our boy Marcus is more than just a line picker?” I suggested. “What are the chances that he’s running a whole illegal mining operation?”

“Not even remotely feasible,” the padre replied, shaking his head. “Marcus isn’t smart enough to pull something like this off, nor is he wealthy enough to finance an operation on this scale. This isn’t a small-time outfit. The equipment, the logistics, finding a way to smuggle raw Selitrium out of Ironmoor without anyone being the wiser? There are guards involved. Politicians. Bribes. If I had to guess, I’d say Marcus is likely one of the poor men mining the vein or hauling the ore for a handful of silvers.”

“Fair enough,” I conceded. “But someone is behind this operation—these tools didn’t just manifest themselves down here. So who would be smart enough, connected enough, and rich enough to run something like this?”

“There are a number of men of means who could do so.”

“I don’t suppose Gustav Hultgren or Sigge Wikstrum are on that list?” I asked.

Arturo’s eyes flashed wide. “Sigge Wikstrum couldn’t pull it off by himself, no. He has the necessary experience to refine the Selitrium and make it stable for transport, but not the means to export it, nor the connections to recruit workers on this magnitude. Gustav Hultgren, on the other hand, could do both, and it’s no secret that the high magistrate is notoriously close with Sigge. He’s Sigge’s single largest patron and benefactor. My question is, why do you think they would be involved in the first place?”

I thought back to the invitation Renholm had pilfered and my run-in with Gustav at the bathhouse. He and I hadn’t exactly gotten off on the right foot, and that was only a few hours before the Changeling took a swipe at me—and by take a swipe, I mean shattered my spine like a porcelain plate. The creature had come this way, so assuming this operation and the creature were somehow connected, was it too far a stretch to say Gustav could’ve been the culprit?

“Let’s just call it a hunch,” I said.

“Vigil, and his frumpy, disheveled companion!” Renholm’s voice echoed from down a nearby passage. “I’ve found something of note. It glimmers!”

Arturo and I shared a conspiratorial glance then headed toward the sound of the pixie.

A snaking passageway opened up into a large chamber that looked more like an armory than a mining camp. Several racks filled with halberds, spears, and a motley assortment of swords and axes lined one wall. There was also a small cot with a medical supply chest containing clean linens, bandaging, a bone saw, catgut sutures for stitching wounds, and a variety of small vials that probably served as health remedies. Off to my right was a deep fissure covered by a heavy iron gate, secured with an iron lock.

There was a sign tacked into the rocky face next to the gate.

Warning: Stone Spider Nest. Proceed with Caution. Keep Gate Secured at all Times!

“What the hell is all of this?” I asked. “This doesn’t look like a mining operation.”

Arturo didn’t speak. Instead, he headed over to the fissure, inspecting the crack in the surface.

“This is new,” he said with absolute certainty. “Maybe half a year ago, the ground beneath all of Ironmoor rumbled and shook as though a great beast were waking up. It didn’t last long,” he continued. “I’ll confess that I was too drunk to even feel it, but it was the talk of the town for several weeks after the fact. It’s possible that quake opened a new chamber. But why anyone would be mad enough to venture into such a space is beyond me.”

“Money can do crazy things to people, Padre. Renholm,” I said, turning toward the pixie. “You said it glimmers. What do you mean?”

He zipped from the back of the cat and hovered in the air for a moment, regarding the door, his tiny arms folded across his narrow chest. “The scent of the creature I battled last night lingers here. But it is old. Faint. So faint it almost eluded even my superior Fae Senses.”

“I don’t think we should go in there,” came a voice from directly behind me.

I jumped and spun, heart hammering in my chest, as I reached through the void and called my newly fashioned Mortka Mace to my hand. The weapon appeared in my hand, ready to swing.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” I swore as I spotted Cal leaning casually against the far wall. “Damnit, you’re gonna give me a heart attack, you son of a bitch. You gotta stop doing that.”

“Or maybe you just need to be more observant,” he offered, kicking off the wall. “You were all so absorbed with the door, none of you even noticed I was standing there for like thirty seconds. I wasn’t even trying to be sneaky, dude. If I’d been that goat-footed gorilla freak, I totally could’ve broken your spine for a second time. That’s why you need me, broham. To watch your six.”

“I’m glad you have my back,” I said, rolling my eyes, “and I’m glad that thing didn’t kill you.”

“Yeah, I’m real tough to kill,” he said, nodding. “Turns out, as your spirit guide, I’m tethered to your soul. Kind of like a leech.” He paused, squinted. “But the good kind of leech,” he finished.

“There’s a good kind of leech?” I asked.

“You know what, scratch the leech thing,” Cal said. “Let’s go with symbiote. Sort of a Spiderman and Venom deal, but with healthier boundaries. Point is, so long as you don’t kick the bucket, neither will I. We’re in it to the end, partner. Though, dying still hurts a whole lot, especially when I’m in corporeal form. Getting drawn and quartered by a bunch of handsy vines felt like having my wisdom teeth pulled out through my asshole.”

“Yeah, definitely had some Evil Dead vibes going for it,” I agreed. “You said you wouldn’t go in there.” I hooked a thumb toward the gated-off section of caves. “Why?”

“Because I can read.” He walked over and slapped a ghostly hand against the sign. “There are monsters and shit down there, dumbass. A whole bunch of ’em. And now that I know if you die, I die, I’m slightly more invested in keeping you alive.”

“I happen to agree with your friend,” Arturo said. “Stone Spiders are nasty creatures. I’m not sure you’re ready to contend against them.”

A bounty appeared a second later in direct contradiction to his words.

>>

Bounty

Stone Spider Nest: You have uncovered a Stone Spider Nest buried deep beneath the earth of Ironmoor. The creatures within are highly territorial and though they rarely venture from their burrows, they are extremely dangerous to anything unlucky enough to venture into the warren of tunnels they call home. Eliminate the nest by killing the Stone Spider Brood Matriarch.

Reward: +1,000 Essence

>>

I snorted and rolled my eyes. “Raguel seems to disagree with you,” I said, “because I just got a bounty to clear this place. Plus”—I waved my hand toward the weapons leaning in the racks—“those aren’t down here for show. Dollars to doughnuts the new ore vein is in there somewhere, which means regular, run-of-the-mill townsfolk have been down here hooking and jabbing with the Stone Spiders. If they can do it, then I think we’ll survive.”