Nell muttered something, but Millicent ignored her, concentrating on the path, for shards of the crystal layered the smooth walkway, waiting to cut the pads of her paws with one unwary step. She did not look up until they reached the second chamber, and this time she shared Nell’s huff of wonder.

Some wizard must have been as enchanted with the crystal formations as Millicent, and had used his magic to shape it into soaring statues that defied the size of the chamber. The white crystal formed the layers of a lady’s gown, the wings of a dragon, the curly beard of a gnome… even the crystal armor of a valiant knight. Millicent’s beast gave a low mew of anguish, and she fought the urge to turn back around. Nell was right. Gareth was immortal, and would surely appear from the relic once again whole and unharmed. But she found it difficult to banish the doubt and worry, and the thought that he might actually be dead made her feel as if a heavy weight pressed on her chest, making it even more difficult to breathe.

As they walked farther, the fanciful shapes began to change to something darker, as if matching her mood. Color had been added to the stone. Red demons loomed over the path, their forked tongues dripping stalactites overhead. A green ogre battled a black Cyclops with claws of silver and fangs of livid yellow.

“Do ye think one wizard made all of these, Millie?”

Millicent grunted. If that was the case, it was a sad reflection on the wizard’s growth to manhood, as the statues slowly became ugly and depicted ever more violent scenes.

They passed a deformed unicorn impaling a fang-toothed harpy.

Nell swayed. “It’s hot, gel. It’s hard to catch me breath.”

Millicent turned and glanced at her friend, nodding her head to show she understood, trying to show encouragement in her eyes. Her beast lacked the vocal chords of human speech, which oddly enough, frustrated her only occasionally.

Far down the cavern, a stalactite fell, a ringing note accompanying the shattering of crystal. Millicent glanced upward at the thousands of sharp cones dangling right above their heads, and picked up her pace. Were some of the crystals so delicate that the vibrations of Nell’s voice made them shatter?

A growl of fury echoed through the cavern from behind them.

Perhaps not only just Nell’s voice had caused the crystals to shatter.

“They’ve found us, Millie.”

Another ringing note sounded in the distance.

“I think… I think the ruckus they’s making are causing the cones to fall…”

They reached the exit of the cave just as the growls grew into howls of triumph. The predators had found Millicent’s scent. More crystals fell from the ceiling, this time closer to the trail.

“Idiots,” snapped Nell.

Millicent curled her lips, opened her great maw, and screamed in defiance as loudly as she could. The answering howls made the very walls of the cave shiver, and started an avalanche of falling crystal. She spun and left the cave entrance, taking the smallest tunnel to her left, Nell chortling softly above her. Millicent soon smelled the rank odor of the city, and used her nose to guide her the rest of the way home.

The radiance of the fairylights illuminating the cavern did not soften the makeshift buildings, or hide the muddy streets and filthy rivulets of water that swept away the worst of the refuse. Millicent took the back alleys, which somehow managed to number more than the actual streets would account for. Most of the buildings were made of stone mined from the tunnels, a mossy slime growing rampant on the lower portion. Roofs were often added only to discourage theft, since they were not subject to the weather.

Millicent had spent several months aboveground learning to be a lady. It’d rained once while she had been walking the avenue, and she’d stood stock still in amazement and wonder, her tutor scolding her for standing like a dolt and getting her borrowed clothing soaking wet. But she had ignored the tirade, for, oh, it had been such a glorious sensation. Almost as marvelous as the feel of full sunshine on her cheeks.

When they reached the tavern, Nell slid off her back, and Millicent shifted to human. She saw two of the duke’s men lurking in the shadows, and knew they would bring reinforcements soon. She would have to manage a fast explanation to Bran. Millicent shoved open the door to the pub, the smell of ale and unwashed bodies hitting her like a wet blanket.

Nell hurriedly spoke from behind her. “The duke’s minions were watchin’ the pub.”

“I know.” Millicent smoothed her petticoat and corset cover. She might have passed for a streetwalker above, but down here she looked positively elegant. “Those baronets—the lions and tigers and wolves that are following us—are spies for the Master of the Hall of Mages. And they want the relic just as much as the duke.”

“Ahh. And they are from above. They wouldn’t dare enter the city.”

Millicent raised her voice as she stepped into the crowded room, skirting tables and wandering hands. “If they make it through the crystal cavern… Yes, I rather imagine they will follow us to the city, Nell. A predator doesn’t give up his prey so easily.”

The smart old woman answered with a cackle. “And ye’re hopin’ the Undergrounders will finish ’em off fer us?”

“Aye.”

“Finish who off?” growled Bran, his finger in a tankard of honey, his long brown hair flowing over his broad shoulders onto the bar. He took in her borrowed clothing, Nell’s rattier-than-ordinary appearance, with only a raised brow. A large man, with a tendency to think before speaking, and speak his words slowly when he did, he was one of the few predators in the Underground who managed to run a profitable pub.

Millicent stepped up to the bar. “I’m in a bit of trouble, Bran.”

“When aren’t ye?”

“That’s unfair,” piped up Nell, her red head barely managing to clear the stained counter. “She’s a good gel, is our Millie.”

Bran ignored her and kept his gaze fixed on Millicent. “Ye took off with nary a word. I’ve had thirteen fights I’ve had to break up meself since ye been gone. Annoying, that.”

Millicent nodded. She didn’t have time to argue. “The Duke of Ghoulston took Nell, and I had to… acquire something to get her back. And now I… I can’t get rid of it, and I’ve got half the world chasing after me. From below and… above.”

Bran slowly licked a sugary finger. “Half the world, eh? That’s a fair amount of enemies fer a gel who usually minds her own business.”

Millicent breathed a sigh of relief. He didn’t appear too angry. He seemed to understand that none of this was her fault.

“Abovegrounders, ye say? And I suppose ye led ’em right here?”

She grimaced and shrugged.

“Well now, at least it’s a fight I won’t be minding havin’. Be good to have some competition fer a change. I suppose it’s best if ye two take the back way out.”

Before Millicent could utter her thanks, the door to the pub flew open. She felt surprised to see the baronets in the doorway, for she had counted on the duke’s minions to make it here first. At least the predators looked decidedly worse for their adventures, their fur scraggly with blood and more than a few sporting splinters of crystal.

Bran raised his bushy brows as he stared at the intruders. “Lions and tigers! Crikey, ye’re full of surprises, gel.” And before his patrons could notice the threat at the door, he turned to a narrow-faced man and said, “Hey, Joseph. Thomas Weezel called yer mother a whore.”

Millicent grinned. Thomas sat slumped over the back of a chair, so deep in his cups she doubted he felt the fist that knocked him out of it. But he managed to shift quickly enough, his face elongating into a weasel, his retaliating strike so fast that Joseph barely managed his shift to jackal before Thomas struck. Both shape-shifters crashed into the table next to them, and the chaps sitting there erupted from their chairs, indiscriminately swinging their fists.

“Too easy,” muttered Bran as he launched his bulk over the bar into what now looked like the usual Saturday evening brawl. The baronets pushed their way into the midst.

“Idiots,” muttered Nell for the second time that day.

“Just out of their element,” replied Millicent. “Let’s go.”

As they made their way out the back door, she watched Bran direct the fight at the abovegrounders like a man orchestrating a symphony. The small tavern soon became a seething mass of fur, teeth, and fang. Nell cackled a laugh, took a step out the back door, and a creature of green slime and knobby limbs caught her up in its vine-like arms.

Millicent glanced back. A lion swatted a weasel aside, his golden eyes intent on her and Nell. The beast took a step toward her, hampered again by the weasel, who had wrapped his sharp little teeth around the lion’s leg. She turned and faced the duke’s men, far less appealing to the eyes, but if she had to choose between two evils, she preferred to choose the one she knew.

“Don’t hurt her,” she ground out between clenched teeth. It frustrated her to give up so quickly. But Nell already looked blue in the face from the monster’s tight grip. “I’ll come along without a fight.”

They dragged her and Nell back to the duke’s lair. Oddly enough, Ghoulston barely gave them a glance as he ordered Selena to take them back to the burgundy prison. The duke appeared preoccupied, which bothered Millicent more than if he had been furious by their attempted escape. He also allowed Nell to stay with her, and as Millicent fell asleep on the perfumed bed, she wondered if that might portend something even worse for her dear friend. And to her chagrin, found herself worrying about Gareth, as well.