Promise: Caulborn #2 Read Online Free Page B

the ability, there’s no need. You just need to practice.”
    For the next two hours, I tried opening gateways. All I succeeded in doing was creating tears back to that dark, cold dimension. Finally Forculus had me stop. “All right, Corinthos, that’s enough for today. I’ll be back in a few days so we can work more on this. In the meantime, don’t try to open any gateways without me here.” He opened a gateway back to my kitchen.
    I really needed to learn how to do this; it would make my life so much easier. I nodded my thanks and stepped through the portal. I grabbed my jacket and headed out the door. Time to go to work.
     
    I was just stepping out of the train station when my phone chirped out “Smaug’s Theme” from The Hobbit . “Hello, Cather,” I said.
    “Vincent Corinthos,” came the smooth voice from the other end. “It has been a long time since we’ve chatted. Are you free for a short visit?”
    Cather, a dragon living in human form, often served as an informant to the Caulborn. He was well connected to the movers and shakers in the Undercity, and the information he provided was almost always good. I checked my watch. “Yeah,” I replied. “Give me fifteen minutes.”
    “I shall await your arrival with bated breath.”
    I tucked my phone into my pocket and headed back down the steps into the train station. A hundred years ago, the Mass Bay Transit Association built the subway tunnels that make up the T’s lines. On paper, some of those tunnels were closed due to structural concerns or safety issues. The real reason they were closed is that there were a bunch of paranormals in the city that didn’t have a place to go, so Frank Allen, a governor with ties to the Caulborn, had closed down those tunnels and built the Undercity to house them. I walked down the train platform, passed a guy playing “Enter Sandman” on a violin, tossed a buck in his case, and proceeded to a battered metal door marked Employees Only. I held my badge up to the scanner, and the door clicked open a second later. Then I hustled down a narrow spiral concrete staircase lit by naked bulbs spaced out every fifteen feet.
    At the bottom of the stairs, I stepped out onto a train platform and took a breath of warm air. The platform before me was nearly identical to the one above, save this one looked new. The Gray Line, the subway that connected the Undercity to Boston’s known subways, didn’t have anywhere near the traffic as what was above, and the newness of the place was actually just a lack of wear and tear. Despite the fact that I was several hundred feet underground, the air was fresh and warm. A clever series of heaters and ventilation ducts ran throughout the Undercity, ensuring its occupants always had sufficient heat and clean air. I tucked my gloves into my pockets and looked around. A subway car straight out of the early 1900s sat on the platform. “Hello, Mr. Corinthos,” the conductor called out with a wave.
    “Howdy, Deke,” I replied as I stepped from the otherwise empty platform onto the train. “How’ve you been?”
    “Fine, fine,” he replied. His gray face was weathered and lined. I’m not sure what species of creature Deke was, but his purple eyes and six-fingered hands would’ve made him a freak in the world above. Down here, he got to drive trains, the thing he loved most in the world. “Important Caulborn business, sir?” he asked, a twinkle in his eye as one of his hands hovered over a red lever.
    “Nothing that important,” I said quickly.
    Deke’s face fell. “Another time, maybe.” Deke’s hand moved away from the red lever and pulled the plain brown one to its right. The train moved through the tunnels at a good clip, and after a few minutes, we pulled up to the Undercity’s platform. I thanked Deke and hopped out. It was like stepping back in time. The streets were paved with cobblestones, and while the streetlights that lined the walkways were electric, they’d been done to