Heretics book 3 - The Apocryphile Press

THE KINGDOM :: 363
A few minutes later, the fog began to part again, and
Dylan’s shoulders slumped when he realized where Jaguar
had led him. “Not again,” he said aloud. “Ah’m sick to shit
o’ this place,” he complained to the cat, but Jaguar ignored
him, and led him up the steps of the Dane mansion.
Inside, they crossed the foyer, and went down the long hall
to where they had descended into the catacombs. Jaguar led
him there, now, padding soundlessly down the narrow stairs
into dark.
There were no lights, yet Dylan found he could see pretty
well—just one of many weird aspects of the Otherworld. But
as soon as they reached the bottom of the steps, his blood
ran cold within him. The dim cave of the catacombs was
crowded, so crowded that he could barely move. And every
one of the souls packed into that underground tomb was the
shade of child.
Dylan fought back sobs as he realized who they were,
what they were doing here. They are the souls of the children
Dane has killed, he thought. They must be.
As he walked down the hallway, the children followed him
with their hollow eyes, pleading, yet each one defeated by
despair.
Then, near the end of the passage, he saw a tall, lanky figure,
familiar beneath his appalling shock of black hair.
“Mikael, dude, Ah am so fuckin’ glad to see you.” He
raced forward to embrace his friend.
Mikael was holding the shade of one of the children, but
he gave Dylan a squeeze with his free arm.
“Dude, don’t tell me...” Dylan began.
Mikael nodded grimly. “He told them he was liberating
them.”
“From what? Life?”
Mikael shook his head. “I don’t know what old man Dane
did to him when he was a little boy, but it left him convinced