Hunting in Hell (12 page)

"Hello, Mademoiselle."
 
He touched the brim of his hat.

One of her eyebrows darted up.
 
"I trust you come to me to ask a favor."

"I come to trade, a piece of information for a deed."

"I see."
 
She held out her hand with a sigh.
 
"I don't know how you manage to steal these things, but our contracts still hold, you old trickster."

He passed her the volume from within his coat, and she flipped through it almost absently.
 
A few minutes passed as she stopped at individual pages, studying them and absorbing their contents.

She looked up at De la Roca with an almost sad expression.
 
"I suppose we should get ready for our departure."

* * *

De la Roca checked Alsvior over by laying her hands on his skin.
 
"Does it hurt anywhere?"
 
The horse shook his head.
 
Healing up well, my dear, and you'll be ready for action by morning.

Laufeyson had taken the Mademoiselle aside to discuss the details of their journey.
 
Uneasy at being excluded, De la Roca almost called the whole thing off.
 
Then again, she had
Bluot
, and Alsvior, and over three centuries of experience killing some of the wickedest creatures ever manifested into existence.

They set off, mounted, in the predawn, the first tendrils of pink gently worming across the sky.
 
By the time they reached the base of a series of rolling hills, it was midmorning.
 
They had ridden the horses hard, and the mounts were sweating from the exertion—except, of course, for Alsvior.
 

"We should go on foot from here.
 
The ground is treacherous and riddled with holes.
 
It would be too easy for a horse to break a leg."
 
Laufeyson dismounted and waited while the others did the same.
 
He motioned at a peak that stood taller than the rest.

They threaded, Indian-file, up the mountain.
 
It was beautiful, a vertical tapestry of painted bands that shone in the sun, and De la Roca wondered how anything as evil as a demon could make such a place its home.

During the trip, Laufeyson and the Mademoiselle continued to speak in whispers.
 
Their amicable camaraderie irritated De la Roca to no end.
 
She was grateful when they reached the top, more for the chance to get away from them than anything else, but when she finally arrived, her breath caught in her throat.

"What is it?"
 
She felt the Mademoiselle's gentle hand on her shoulder.

"It's just—I've roamed this earth for three centuries.
 
I've hacked through jungles, climbed mountains, crossed deserts . . . I've ridden over every bridge and valley and coastline . . ." She trailed off, unable to complete the thought.

The Mademoiselle gave her a nod.
 
"Yes, this is special."

De la Roca had never seen anything as beautiful as the mesa that stretched out before her, the painted bands of rock burning pink and orange in the setting sun.
 
A lake rested in the middle, its crystalline waters reflecting the figures of the three travelers against a backdrop of rose and purple sky.

"Sometimes," said Laufeyson, "Earth surprises me even still.
 
I have traveled through the depths of Hell and the heights of Heaven, and through many other worlds that do not even have names in this language.
 
And yet, this kind of beauty is so rare that it makes me almost believe that this world was a gift to its inhabitants, a place of refuge from some other terrible land."
 
He paused, flicking his fingers just enough to manifest and light a cigarette.
 
"But even here, it is ethereal.
 
The sun will set and the night will be cloudy, and then this place shall be indistinguishable from everything around it."
 
He opened his arms wide, as if in invitation.
 
"Welcome," he said, "to the Phoenix Well."

Eleven

"
W
e should start in the morning."
 
De la Roca brushed Alsvior by the fire.
 
He didn't truly need it, for his coat would come clean again as soon as he transformed, but the touch somehow bonded them together.
 
They always fought better on days after she groomed him.

Laufeyson and the Mademoiselle had just finished debriefing her.
 
Neither claimed to know much about the nature of the demon they hunted.

"It does not matter," said Laufeyson.
 
As he spoke, he walked toward De la Roca, until he eventually stood next to her under the overhang.
 
He had cautioned her of the need for protection from the elements, even though the sky was as clear as glass.
 
And I obliged you, didn't I?
 
So why won't you shut up?

"To create a realm takes immense power.
 
I doubt that any demon would be strong enough to make one much larger than a shopping mall.
 
As such, there will be no sun, no daylight, no cycle of time and warmth.
 
In fact, you may not want to bring Alsvior; it could be pretty crowded in there."

Alsvior chuffed once and immediately transformed into a horse no larger than a German Shepherd.
 

"A trick pony!" exclaimed Laufeyson.

Alsvior kicked with his back legs, and the blow threw the man to the ground.

"Alsvior hates ponies." De la Roca smiled sweetly.
 
"We saw a small family of Falabella miniature horses once in Argentina and he was quite enamored with the form for a while.
 
He considers ponies too short and fat, too awkward and ungainly."

Laufeyson sat and rubbed his arm.
 
He turned his upper body to address Alsvior directly.
 
"My apologies, sir.
 
I was merely impressed by your powers of transformation."

The horse pointedly ignored him.

"Even if day and night do not exist, I would rather us depart in the morning.
 
I would give both Alsvior and myself an extra night to rest and heal."

"Fair enough," said Laufeyson, and he lay down by the fire.
 
Within minutes, he was snoring soundly.

"Do not judge him too harshly, De la Roca."
 
The Mademoiselle's voice was barely a whisper.

De la Roca had been thinking about the possible nature of the demon she would be facing soon, and the Mademoiselle's kind words surprised her.
 
She got the feeling that there was something else, something painful—

But then the Mademoiselle laughed lightly.
 
"He is a fool, true, but there is wisdom in a fool."

"He is a mercenary," said De la Roca, as if it settled the matter, and she lay down to sleep.

* * *

It was time to open the waypoint.

Laufeyson sighed. "I wish I could tell you more about this world, but each one has its own rules.
 
The only advice I can give is to keep your eyes open and your wits about you."

"As if I had planned to do anything else."

Ignoring their exchange, the Mademoiselle sat cross-legged and mumbled to herself.
 
Somehow, De la Roca knew that the words were ancient ones, of a language so old that it was still instinctive, not burdened with the artifice of years of arbitrary growth and change.
 
They were words that, without knowing the meaning, still evoked pictures and emotions, colors and sensations.
 

She looked up to find Laufeyson staring at her.
 
"It is the old language, of the land before this one."

De la Roca did not reply.
 

Alsvior raised his head and sniffed the air.
 
It was then that De la Roca noticed it, a faint odor on the wind that was growing stronger by the second.
 
Soon, it was a jumble of familiar notes, sand and earth, smoke and rain.
 
Clouds drifted in, more rapidly than she had ever seen them move, and formed a towering anvil that stretched far into the heavens above.

They waited for the rain, but still, it did not come.
 
The air grew heavier and hotter, a thick, misty blanket that settled over the mesa and obscured their view.
 
A bolt of lightening streaked across the sky, followed by a bold thunderclap.
 

Just when the air grew so stifling that she thought she would no longer be able to stand it, she felt the first raindrop fall, a warm drip onto her face.
  
The drops increased in number until they fell with an unbroken rhythm, giant warm conglomerations of water that splashed so hard they cut hollows into the earth and threw up halos of dirt and mud.

"Keep your eyes open for it!" yelled Laufeyson.
 
He pointed out at the lake.
 

The water swirled slowly, the directional pattern evident through the confusion caused by the raindrops.
 
A funnel appeared, a minor dimple in the surface that grew deeper with each passing second, until she was sure it would touch the bottom.
 
They could hear the roar of the water and the howling of the wind over the rain.

"Go.
 
Quickly!"
 

De la Roca ran,
springing
into the air with the coiled leap that had so often proved a lethal surprise to her enemies.
 

As she dove into the center, she made out details in the sides of the whirlpool's eye.
 
The water ceased swirling, and solidified into a trembling wall.
  
She landed at the bottom and turned her head at a slight thump—there was Alsvior.
  
The walls quivered, and De la Roca, suddenly uneasy, turned to look back at the other two.

The Mademoiselle glowed with a deathly pallor.
 
Her hair and clothes clung to her body with a slick coating of sweat.
 
As if sensing De la Roca's concern, Laufeyson nodded.
 
"I will take care of her."

"Aren't you coming?"
 
De la Roca was stunned.
 
Somehow, she had thought the fool would surely accompany her.

"I cannot!"

The Mademoiselle fell backwards, and the frozen whirlpool collapsed.

De la Roca had just enough time to scream, "Alsvior, light!" before it engulfed them.

Twelve

T
he water was gone.
 

The room, if it could properly be called such, was warm.
 
By the flickering glow of Alsvior's mane and tail, she could just make out the narrow walls and a floor of hewn stone.
 
The ceiling directly above glittered with blue reflections, and she realized that
this
was the water, held back with an unknown force, frozen above her.
 
The stone in her stomach awakened with a slow pulse, responding to a power she could not yet sense.

The demon must be close, then.

She drew her weapons cautiously and began her inspection.

To her side, she noticed a dark spot where the light did not reach.
 
She closed her eyes and could feel the faintest touch of a breeze upon her face.
 

An exit.