The Hunter and the Hunted: Two Stories of the Otherworld (8 page)

“So there is no book?” I said.

“I don’t know. Being Kristof . . .” He shrugged. “I suspect there is a prize at the end. He wouldn’t get your hopes up like that. It might be a spell or a magical whatnot. I’m just trying to figure out how he got the oni involved.”

“He helped some of them out of a bad contract last year. They owe him.” I got to my feet. “So, presuming the oni really do have a prize for me, let’s go get it.”

“Me? No, I’m supposed to be doing research—”

“Which you hate almost as much as I do. You just don’t complain. But I’ve gotten myself into a potentially dangerous situation, trying to rescue potentially sacred texts from oni. You’re honor bound to help me. So come on.”

•  •  •

Before we left, Trsiel had to go put away his books. God forbid he should leave a mess. Then I took him back to the museum. It wasn’t hard for him to mingle among mortal shades. He just needs to employ a bit of voice modulation, so he only sounds like a guy who should be doing radio. As for the faint glow, ghosts don’t notice that. Even in the supernatural realms, angels are such mysterious entities that most people expect them to come with halos and harps.

I took Trsiel through the first two dimensional pockets, then I went ahead through the smaller ones. This time, I avoided the fall into the final room, dropping instead. When I hit the ground, I conjured my sword as the oni skittered and whispered all around me.

“I’ve come for the book,” I said.

“No, no. You are not Balaam,” one said.

“Balaam would not come,” another replied. “He is a lord. He would send an underling.”

“Yes, she comes in Balaam’s stead. She bears his words. She—”

“Enough,” I said. “The gig is up, guys, but it’s not your fault. I’ll tell Kristof you did great. Slate wiped clean. Now hand over—”

One of the oni screamed. Another joined in and they began scrabbling about like kernels in a defective hot-air popper.

“Umm, sorry I’m late,” Trsiel said behind me.

I turned. “You really know how to make an entrance, don’t you?”

I whistled, trying to be heard over the shrieking. Forget the popcorn analogy. It was more like a tenth-grade booze-fest when the cops show up.

I whistled again. “Hey! Knock it off! He’s with me!”

“You have tricked us,” one oni hissed as the noise level dropped.

“Yes, tricked us. You brought an angel. A true angel.”

“Yeah, yeah. Did I mention the game’s over? I caught on. Now just give me—”

“We give you nothing.”

“Fine,” I said. “How did Kristof want this to play out? Was I supposed to sneak back here? Trick you? Fight you?”

“We do not know this Kristof.” An oni walked out. He was taller than his brethren, with wild orange hair. “You will leave now, witch. Take your angel and leave. Out of respect for your sire, we will permit that—”

“Permit?” I waved my sword. “I’ll leave when I want to. And I’m not leaving without the damned—”

Trsiel nudged me to silence and stepped forward, his own sword conjured but lowered. Respectful. When he spoke, it was with the full-on vocal treatment. “You say you do not know Kristof Nast?”

“Nast?” The oni’s ugly face crinkled. “I know that name. It is a Cabal. But this Kristof . . .?”

“He is hers.” Another oni pointed a bony finger at me. “I have heard of him. He helped oni.”

“But the oni he helped weren’t you,” Trsiel said. “He didn’t ask you to play a game with Eve, did he?”

More face-scrunching from the leader. “Game? The oni do not play games.”

“Sure, they do,” I said. “Hide-and-seek. And now you’re hiding—”

Another wave from Trsiel. He continued questioning them, and it didn’t take long to realize that they weren’t just trying to prolong the game. A full-blood angel’s voice truly is compelling—it makes you want to listen and to obey. For demons, it’s like a truth serum. These oni weren’t part of Kristof’s scheme. Stranz really had just stumbled into the dimensional pocket by accident, probably as he’d been heading for that “Private” door, adding a little spice to the chase.

But if Kristof didn’t set this up, then the oni really were guarding the Sixth and Seventh Books of Moses.

“Fine,” I said when Trsiel stopped. “It’s a misunderstanding. But we are going to need that book. So just hand it over and we’ll go. We won’t tell anyone you took it.”

The oni laughed now, cackling and yipping.

“We took nothing,” the leader said. “We found it.” He pulled himself up tall. “And so we keep it.”

“I’m afraid not,” Trsiel said. “The Sixth and Seventh Books of Moses are believed to be lost scriptures. As such, they would belong to the Almighty. As an agent of the Almighty, I need to ask you to relinquish them.”

Trsiel had said he didn’t believe they were real sacred texts, so he worded it carefully, to avoid lying. The oni didn’t care. They began gnashing their teeth and moving closer, clawed hands raised, fangs bared. Trsiel subtly motioned behind them—into the dark recesses of whatever dimensional pocket we were in. Presumably the book lay on the other side, as they guarded the door.

I nodded. We could hack our way through the oni, but that wasn’t fair. They had every right to guard what they’d found, and wholesale slaughter would land us in deep shit with the Fates. Contrary to popular belief, the war between the celestial and the demonic isn’t an endless bloody battle. It’s more like a cold war. Has been for eons. An uneasy stalemate, reinforced by endless treaties, including the kind that say two angels can’t massacre oni to get a book, even a sacred one.

We waited there, swords drawn, until they charged. Then we sliced through the first couple—self-defense—and barreled into the darkness. Realizing our goal, the oni leaped in from all sides. I swung behind Trsiel, covering his back as he pushed through the seething mass of imps. Tiny teeth dug into my arms and legs, and hands pummeled me. I shoved them off when I could and cut a swath with the glowing blue blade when I had to. The blade worked better. They saw it and dove out of the way.

We kept going, the blackness so complete now that our swords didn’t do more than illuminate their own metal, blue lightsabers cutting through blackness. Then . . .

“Shit!” Trsiel said. “Watch . . . !”

His voice trailed off. Falling. I hit the edge of the floor and teetered for a second. Then two oni jumped me and over I went.

•  •  •

It wasn’t a long drop. It helped that I landed on Trsiel. Above we could hear the oni chittering and giggling.

“Trapped!” one chortled. “Yes, the angels are trapped.”

“Oni didn’t do it,” another said. “They trapped themselves.”

“Yes, trapped themselves.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I muttered, pushing off Trsiel.

I lit a light ball and waved it around.

“Huh, not much of a trap,” I said.

We were at one end of a tunnel that, like the room above, stretched into darkness. A long, black tunnel, presumably with the book at the end.

“Find the book and teleport out,” I murmured. I turned to Trsiel. “It’s not an empty dimension, is it?”

We can’t teleport out of empty dimensions. They’re off the grid. I had to ask the question again, though. He was looking around, hand tight on his sword.

“No,” he said finally. “It’s not empty.”

I didn’t like his tone. “Is something here?”

“I’m . . . not sure. I think so.”

“Well, hopefully it won’t mind us taking the book.”

I swung the light ball in front of us, to illuminate the way, then I started down the corridor. Trsiel followed, walking backward, covering me now. I didn’t see the need for it. We were in a narrow corridor with nothing in sight. Just—

A growl reverberated through the hall. Trsiel swung in front of me, sword raised.

“It didn’t come from down there,” I said. “Or behind us. It seemed to come from . . .” I turned to the wall. Then I leaned over and cleared a peephole. “Nothing. Black—”

The wall crumbled. Just crumbled. So did the ceiling. And the wall behind us. We were standing in the darkness. Endless black on every side. I threw my light ball, but all I could see was the glowing sphere itself, going and going and going until it disappeared.

The growl came again. Then the flapping of wings. Leathery, bat-like wings, beating currents of hot air all around us.

“That sounds like . . .”

“Yes. That’s what it sounds like.”

“But it can’t be. Hell-beasts are only found in—”

An ear-shattering shriek as the beast dove at my head. As I ducked, I swung my sword. It made contact, fluorescent green blood spraying my face. The blood burned as it struck my skin, and I let out a yelp, so shocked at the sensation. Ghosts don’t feel pain. Angels don’t either. Not unless they’re in . . .

“Hell dimension!” I shouted.

“Which explains the hell-beast.” Trsiel grabbed my arm and yanked me as he stumbled backward over the uneven ground. “Hide your sword.”

I unconjured it and cast a privacy spell so we could speak without our voices being heard. “It can’t be a hell dimension. We didn’t step through a hell-gate.”

“No, we
fell
through one. I thought I felt it, but it happened too fast.”

“Shit!”

“Exactly,” he muttered.

We’d been in hell dimensions before. Very, very rarely, and only when we absolutely couldn’t avoid it. We got in and we got out fast, before anything found us.

“Hold on,” I said. “I’ll cast . . . Shit!”

Hell dimensions also negated teleport spells. Meaning we were trapped here, in the dark, with a hell-beast. A very pissed off, injured hell-beast.

“Just stay still,” Trsiel murmured.

Right. Hell-beasts hunted like sharks, except they sensed movement through air instead of water. So we stayed still and listened to the flap of its wings as it circled the cavern. Trsiel had found us a spot behind what felt like stalagmites, cold and wet stones soaring up all around us.

The hell-beast swung past a couple of times. I tried to gauge its size, but all I had to go on was the sound of those wings, which really didn’t help at all. There were hell-beasts small enough for us to take on . . . and some we’d need an army to vanquish.

“The exit,” Trsiel whispered. “We need to find the exit.”

I paused. “Right.”

“We can’t look for that book, Eve. Not here. Not now.”

“I know.”

“We’ll get to the exit, climb out and teleport from the top, before the oni attack.”

“Good plan.”

It
was
good. I just would have preferred if it included finding the book. But Trsiel was right—we couldn’t see anything, meaning there was no way to find the book, not while that hell-beast guarded it.

“Maybe if we kill it . . .” I began.

As if in answer, we heard claws scrabbling to our left. Then more to our right.

“Oni?” I whispered.

“I don’t think so.”

“Damn.” Oni were a threat I could handle.

The claws clicked closer on both sides.

“Any idea where we’d find the exit?” I whispered.

Trsiel paused. Presumably it was back the way we’d come, at the start of the corridor. Since there was no longer a corridor, though . . . Also, the exit was a hole in the ceiling, which wouldn’t make things easy.

“No,” he said finally. “But I can guess the general direction.”

Something leaped at me, something small and furry, teeth digging into my arm. Pain ripped through it. I conjured my sword and caught a glimpse of a mole-like snout as I threw the beast and brandished my sword, Trsiel doing the same.

We’d been down here long enough for our eyes to adjust, and I could make out a little beyond the glow of our swords. We were surrounded by what looked like a dozen moles, each the size of a fox, blind things, with no obvious eyes but lots of sharp teeth and equally sharp claws. I had no idea what they were—there was no afterlife Darwin willing to brave the hell dimensions to name all the inhabitants.

They were dangerous. They were guarding the book. They’d shred us with those teeth if they got the chance. That was all we needed to know.

Another one leaped at me. Before I could swing my blade, Trsiel had sliced it in two, both halves falling, twitching, to the rocky floor. Two more shrieked as if in shared pain. They jumped. I skewered one. Trsiel lopped the head off the other. Then we heard the beating of massive wings as hot air swirled around us.

“Incoming!” I yelled.

“Run!”

“Where?”

Trsiel gave me a shove. Another mole-fox sprang. I swung, but it was too close to hit. Its teeth sank into my arm. Trsiel yanked it off and threw it aside.

As we started to run, I heard the beat of the hell-beast’s wings. Then silence. I knew what that silence meant and wheeled just in time to see a massive scaled creature diving at Trsiel. I yelled. He dove to the side, but the beast only changed course, talons outstretched. I ran, swinging my sword at those huge talons. The beast yanked them up just in time, and I staggered, spinning with the force of my empty swing.

Trsiel shouted. Something grabbed my sword arm, wrapping around it. Talons caught my shoulder, digging in like daggers, making me gasp, pain blinding me. The ground disappeared under my feet. I looked up to see scales and feathers.

I cast a binding spell, but the beast just kept winging its way up. Then it stopped, and I thought it was just a delayed reaction on the spell—was shocked that it had actually worked. Then the hell-beast screamed. I let out a yelp, too, as acid blood rained down. I heard Trsiel shout something from below but I didn’t catch it, just focused on launching a fireball. As I threw it up against the hell-beast’s underbelly, I saw Trsiel’s sword there, embedded nearly to the hilt. Then the sword vanished as he unconjured it. I threw a fireball straight at the gaping wound. The beast let out an unearthly howl and dropped me.

I hit the hard ground. Which hurt. Trsiel yanked me to my feet as the hell-beast swooped. I saw its head this time—massive furred skull with giant fangs. Trsiel yanked his sword arm back and I was going to tell him it wouldn’t do any good—the beast was still too high to reach. But he didn’t swing the blade. He threw it, like a javelin, straight up at the beast’s throat. It pierced it, and I covered my head as acid blood spattered us.