The Age of Mages: Book I of the Mage Tales (21 page)

“That’s it?” I asked, peering down. A single overhead lightbulb illuminated the space, but didn’t reveal anything useful. “I can’t imagine we’re going to find Callix Ferox among maintenance supplies and extra paint cans.”

“One moment.” Titus put his palms on the left side of the basement wall. “Notice anything odd?” he asked.

I examined the wall until I could see lines along the top and side of it—they were in the shape of a rectangle. To anyone familiar with magic, they glinted like snowflakes in the dim light.

“Another door,” I realized.

“Exactly,” Titus said. He gently pushed it open to reveal a second set of steps leading downward. These were much older than the steps of the temple’s mundane basement. They were made of stone, caked in layers of dust. Dust that had recently been disturbed.

“Look.” I grabbed the sleeve of Titus’s jacket and jutted my chin at the ground.

“Footprints,” he murmured. Indeed, it looked like several sets of prints led down the stairs. “Could be from Ferox’s lackeys or other witches,” he said. “There’s no telling exactly when they were left.”

“Best be careful, then,” I said. Titus nodded, and made some light so we could see going forward. We descended the stairs cautiously, going down so far I was reminded of Jules Verne’s novel
Journey to the Center of the Earth.
It was very chilly; we were venturing even farther underground than the PIA’s basement.
Much
farther. Huge stone walls rose around us as we went deeper and deeper, the narrow staircase growing wider. Finally, the stairs ended in a large room made of stones similar to the steps, with several passageways in a ring along the wall.

“I don’t understand—where’s Ferox?” I looked all around, but didn’t see anything that looked like an ancient vampire’s tomb. I certainly didn’t see any sign of Abigail. “I thought he was supposed to be buried here.”

Titus clucked his tongue. “You don’t think the witches who put Ferox here would make it easy to stumble upon him, do you? All someone would have to do is knock down a wall or two after a hundred years, and there he’d be. No, this must just be the entrance. Ferox is probably buried a good distance within. Looks like we have a bit of a walk ahead of us.”

I groaned. “This is going to take forever!”

My father looked at me and shook his head. “Again with young people and their impatient ways. You’re the one who wanted to find Abigail so badly. What difference does it make if it takes a bit longer?”

It might make all the difference to her
, I thought.
She might be hurt, tortured, almost dead . . . and shouldn’t you want to find her as well?
Was Titus failing to express concern to shield his pride, or because he genuinely didn’t care? It was anyone’s guess, and regardless, there was nothing to do but press on.

Titus selected a passageway, and we started going down it. He snapped his fingers, and torches on the walls that hadn’t been lit for centuries were suddenly ablaze. I suppose I could’ve done the same thing with a little more effort, but we already had magic for light. No doubt he was trying to impress me, though he’d never admit as much.

Most mortals don’t realize it, but many Roman ruins can be reached by stepping beneath existing monuments—often houses of worship. Some of these ruins are even available to tourists. However, they represent only a fraction of the unexplored vastness that is the world beneath Rome. Certain parts are accessible only to those who know they exist.

What we ventured into was truly a city beneath a city. Titus and I passed ancient apartment buildings, public squares, baths, and theaters. Mosaics, friezes, and frescoes lined the walls. One wall was covered with a giant gilded mirror. Part of its face was marbled with dark cracks, though the glass itself seemed unbroken.

Dirt, debris, and fragments of pottery surrounded us, and we had to step carefully. There was even some Roman graffiti—a few naughty rhymes. No, you may
not
know what they said. In the background was the constant sound of flowing water from original Roman pipes. At one point, we stepped through a small arch to reveal a much larger vaulted ceiling of what used to be a temple. At least, that was my guess.

There were no wall torches in this section, so Titus expanded our magic light. It filled the room, and we gazed around us for a few moments. It was easy to see how magnificent everything was, even after all these years. I studied my father’s face for any sign of a reaction. After all, we were returning to the world he’d known two thousand years ago. But his face was as impassive as the stone around us.

Every few minutes, my father would stop and close his eyes, trying to get a feel for the ancient vampire, Ferox. Then he would nod sharply and chose a direction, and we would walk on. As we did so, I wondered how Arthur was faring. I was feeling very badly about what I’d done to him, but I didn’t have a choice. I wished I could tell someone else where Arthur was. In the off chance that something happened to me tonight, I wouldn’t get another opportunity.
Not that anything will happen
, I assured myself. After all, I was a capable mage, in the company of an old and powerful vampire witch.

Still, if something
did
happen, Arthur might eventually die in a subterranean jail cell. But it wasn’t as if I could’ve gone up to another PIA member and said, “Excuse me, but if I don’t make it out of my top-secret mission alive, would you mind releasing the old man I locked in your basement? Thanks so much.”

Speaking of subterranean jail cells . . .

“Have you considered what we’ll do if we find more than Ferox’s followers down here?” I asked Titus, stepping over a shattered urn. “For instance, if we find Ferox himself? Although you think he’s dead, the Council said killing him outright would’ve been impossible. There’s a good chance he may still be alive in one form or another.”

If you recall, dear reader, I mentioned earlier that vampires have the ability to lie dormant for many years without feeding. I imagine witches could use a spell on a vampire to accomplish the same end.

“Let me deal with Ferox, if it comes to that,” Titus replied. Despite the uneven ground where we now walked, he wasn’t slowing down. “Besides, if everyone thinks we’re trying to resurrect him, it stands to reason that he’s dead, or possibly still asleep somewhere.”

“Let’s just hope he stays that way,” I mumbled. “But how will we know when we find him? Are we to just go wandering about underneath Rome, hoping to stumble on him?”

Now it was my father’s turn to be impatient with
me
. He stopped long enough to turn and frown. “I can
sense
him, remember? Isn’t that what I’ve been doing the entire time? Just follow me, and you’ll be fine.”

Suddenly, I heard rumblings above us, and a few pebbles seemed to drop from the sky. A large rock fell inches from my foot, and I jumped back. Titus gave a short laugh.

“Don’t worry, Joshua,” he said, and kept walking. “It’s more afraid of you than you are of it.” Seething, I wished my father would turn around again to enjoy the full extent of my glare. Alas, no such luck.

“What was that, anyway?” I asked.

“Over the centuries, mortals built over the ruins we now walk through,” Titus explained. “The falling rocks could have been from cars passing along a road, for instance. Sometimes, the hollow space can’t support the weight of new structures.”

“That means there’s a very real risk of the earth collapsing above us,” I said. I lifted my head nervously.

“Possibly,” replied Titus, but his tone didn’t seem very concerned, and we continued on in silence. After a few minutes, Titus spoke again.

“I hope that if we do meet with Ferox—or his followers—you’re prepared to bring an end to this,” he said. “We have to do whatever it takes.”

“Of course I’m prepared,” I said indignantly. I couldn’t believe he was implying otherwise. “Would I have come all this way if I weren’t? Perhaps we can reason with them—bribe them, maybe—or use some kind of spell,” I thought aloud.

“
Reason
?” Titus scoffed. “You can’t reason with the blindly faithful. And it’s going to take a lot more than fancy magic to get the job done. We’re talking about vampires here—we live and die by blood.”

“There must be a way to solve problems that doesn’t involve violence, or at least brutal hand-to-hand combat,” I shot back. “Sorcery and cleverness go a long way too, you know.”

“You didn’t seem averse to violence when you and Blackline were razing the Forum Romanum,” Titus said. He stopped, closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them and kept walking.

“We weren’t
razing
it,” I corrected, following him. “But trust you to exaggerate. And that was different. He was being entirely uncooperative, not to mention the fact that he started it. Also, if you’d been paying attention, you’d have noticed I didn’t have to kill or permanently maim him to get information.”
Though I did want to
.

Titus shook his head. “I should know better than to argue with you. Things were much easier in my day. The law would’ve allowed me to kill you for disobedience.”

“ ‘We praise the ancient times, but live the present years.’ Ovid,” I said.

“I
know
who Ovid is,” Titus growled. “Stop quoting my own culture to me!” He ducked under a fallen slab of stone, and I did the same. “I still don’t understand why I haven’t killed you. Mortal law would hardly know I did so one way or the other.”

“Must be that ‘crazy little thing called love,’ ” I replied. “Don’t worry—that’s a quotation from the band Queen, not an ancient Roman poet.”

“
Love
. . .” Titus rolled the word over his tongue as though it had a bad taste. “Love is for the weak. For those too frightened to act.”

“And war is for whom, exactly?” I asked. “Everyone?”
And didn’t you love my mother at one point, at least a little?
I didn’t even want to hazard a guess if Titus truly loved
me
. He’d just talked nonchalantly about killing me, after all. “War is all you have ever known, Father. Did you ever wonder who you’d be without it?”

Titus whirled around, stopping just before an archway into a different part of the underground. “And I suppose we should all be tree-hugging hippies who try to save the world?” he sneered. “You should be less concerned with others’ welfare, and more concerned with your own.”

I could feel anger rising within me, heat spreading to my face. “Yes, because being the last Roman left standing worked so well for you,” I said. “What will you do if your self-preservation instincts leave you all alone in the world? Will you put on a crown and be ruler of the graveyard?” I raised my hands to indicate the decay all around us. I knew I was going too far, but somehow I couldn’t stop. “Let’s face it,” I continued. “If you hadn’t been turned into a vampire, you still would have been just another in a long line of day-walking Roman slaughterers.”

I could see by the look on Titus’s face that my words had cut him. Instantly, I was torn between regretting it and not. I think this was the first time I’d ever been able to hurt my father, to touch his heart. It was a power I’d always wanted, but somehow, not like this.

Why should my remarks offend Titus?
I thought. Wasn’t he proud to be ruthless, to be made of stone? I always believed that was the case.

Titus kept staring at me, and after a few seconds, I looked at the floor. “Father, what I meant was—”

“Shhh!” Titus held up a finger. His head turned to one side, and his eyes narrowed.

“What is it?” I asked. “I don’t hear anything.”
Probably because I’m not a vampire.

“Hush, boy!” Titus kept listening to sounds only he could hear. “Something’s wrong.” His voice deepened. “There’s someone else here.”

“Who? Is it Ferox?” My whole body tensed, and I could feel magic automatically gathering within me, readying itself for what might come.

“No, not Ferox,” Titus said. “But whatever it is, it’s more than one.”

“Seven, actually,” I heard a familiar voice echo throughout the chamber before us. Quickly, Titus stepped through, and I had no choice but to follow. Titus raised and magnified our ball of light, revealing a colossal domed hall—and half the High Council of Witches.

Chapter 19

My stomach froze, and I looked at Titus for some indication of what to do. His eyes scanned the room, moving from one Council member to another. Finally, he spoke.

“Only seven of you?” he said. “Couldn’t they send the rest? How did you lot get stuck doing the grunt work?” The entire Council visibly bristled, their glares and frowns the exact reaction I’ll wager Titus wanted. If he felt any apprehension, he certainly wasn’t showing it, and I daresay he never would. It couldn’t be denied that I felt more confident facing them with my father at my side.

“Father, this is Sasha Cronin, and I believe you recognize Mr. Blackline,” I said, pointing them out. “That gentleman there is Lord—”

“Ashdown,” my father said, smirking at him.

“Aurelius,” replied Ashdown tonelessly.

“Ah, so you already know each other. We really must stop meeting like this,” I said to the Council. “That is to say, you really must stop sneaking up on us like this.”