Page 102 of The Hyena’s Guardian

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Beyond the cathedral crypt, the lower levels no longer resembled anything built by living hands.

The carved corridors had given way to something older and less orderly, vast chambers connected by fractured stone bridges and uneven passageways that looked more excavated than constructed. Walls curved at unnatural angles beneath layers of black mineral growth that pulsed faintly beneath the glow of weapon lights, almost like veins buried inside the rock itself.

Matt stayed close behind Theron as the group moved carefully through another narrow passage overlooking a cavern so deep he could not see the bottom.

Individual words began separating from the overlapping voices.

His fingers tightened around the knife.

Ahead of him, Theron slowed before glancing back over one shoulder.

“You hear them more clearly now.”

It was not a question.

Matt exhaled through his nose. “I was really hoping we wouldn’t circle back to that conversation.”

Theron gave him a brief sidelong look. “The mountain is testing whether you can hear its call.”

“Fantastic.” Matt adjusted the rifle hanging against his chest. “Love that for me.”

“You joke when you are afraid.”

Matt looked toward him. “You brood when you’re afraid. Everybody copes differently.”

For the briefest moment, Matt caught the version of Theron that only seemed to appear around him.

Movement rippled through the cavern below, stopping the entire group. Matt saw it a second later.

At first Matt thought the weapon lights were distorting the darkness below the bridge. Then one of the Valker agents angled a flashlight downward, and the beam swept across the cavern floor far below them.

Bodies moved through the ruins. Dozens at least. Possibly hundreds.

Thin, twisted shapes crawled over broken stone and collapsed pillars with unnatural speed, spilling across the cavern floor in jerking waves that made Matt’s stomach tighten. Some climbed upright for a few strides before dropping back to all fours, while others never rose at all, dragging themselves forward in spasmodic bursts that no intact body should have survived.

One of the agents swore under his breath.

Vale stepped carefully toward the edge of the bridge, rifle raised as she studied the movement below. “How many?”

“Too many,” Baptiste answered grimly.

They had once been wolves. Matt could still see it beneath the ruin. Weapon lights caught flashes of pale eyes, exposed bone, elongated limbs, and jaws that opened far wider than any living wolf’s should as they swarmed through the shattered ruins below.

Then one of them stopped.

Its head lifted toward the bridge.

Even from that distance, Matt felt the exact instant it noticed them.

The creature screamed.

Every head in the cavern turned upward at once.

“Oh, that’s bad,” Matt muttered.

Then the swarm charged.