The Burial Hour (Lincoln Rhyme 13) - Page 104

"And there are rumors that underneath here're more, going back to Roman days. There could be a million skulls under our feet."

They stood at the entrance, a massive nature-made archway that led into the darkened expanse. This was no longer prime tourist season and the place had few visitors.

And those who were here seemed to be on missions of devotion, rather than sightseeing. They lit votives, they prayed.

Spooky...and quiet. Almost silent.

Well, he'd have to deal with it. Stefan wiped sweat, put the tissue away.

"You okay?"

"Fine."

They walked farther inside, her boots tapping and echoing. Lovely! Reading from her guidebook, she whispered--here was a place to inspire whispers--that Naples was savagely bombed during the Second World War, and this was one of the few places were the citizens could be safe from the Allied planes.

The lighting was subdued and flames from the candles cast eerie, unsteady shadows of bones and skulls--reanimations of victims dead hundreds, or thousands, of years.

"Creepy, hm?"

"Sure is." Though not because it looked creepy. Because of the quiet. The cavern was like a petri dish for Black Screams. A couple of them started to moan. Started to rise. Started to swell within.

Until he had a thought. A new mission. Good, good.

The Black Screams faded.

A new mission.

Which involved Lilly. And suddenly he was wildly grateful they had met. It was as if his muse had sensed his distress and sent her to him.

Thank you, Euterpe...

Of course, he realized, as he'd thought downtown, this was definitely not a good idea. But he also thought: As if I have any choice.

The failure last night...The swish, swish of the knife at the refugee camp. The spreading blood in the shape of a bell. The nightmares, the sound waves of approaching Black Screams.

Oh, he needed this.

He was looking Lilly over carefully. Probably hungrily. Before she caught him, he gazed off.

Lilly was acting girlish now. Smiling, despite the wall of skulls, the dark eye sockets turned their way. "Hello!" she called.

The echo danced back and forth.

Stefan heard it long after she'd turned her attention elsewhere.

They walked farther into the dim, cool space.

"Your face," she said.

Stefan turned, cocking his head.

"Your eyes were closed. What're you thinking about? Who all these people were?" She nodded to the skulls.

"No, just listening to things."

"Listening? I don't hear anything."

"Oh, there's a thousand sounds. You hear them too but you don't know you do."

Tags: Jeffery Deaver Lincoln Rhyme Mystery
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