All Who Wander Are Lost (An Icarus Fell Novel) (45 page)

I looked away from
that one.

I walked for a
couple more minutes, gaze diverted toward the row of tents as I used
the memory of the obese woman’s sagging, hairy breasts to keep
my curiosity at bay. My curiosity squashing approached its limit
when I banged into the bars of a cage set directly in my path.

“
Dammit.”

I looked up at the
rusted bars, rubbed my forehead where contact with said bars
occurred, and found a goose egg already forming.

“
Shit.”

I
took a step back to look at the cage in front of me. It was as big
as the first one which penned the elephant-thing, but sat on a three
foot high platform. It was empty except for the straw covering the
floor—freshly cut, by the smell of it—and a galvanized
steel pail of water. Another cage stood to my left. In fact, as I
circled doing my surveillance of the milieu I’d neglected in
my desire
not
to
see more unattractive people engaged in sexual activities, I found
cages encircled me, the corner of one touching the corner of the
next, effectively penning me in the largest cage yet.

I stepped into the
middle of the ring and turned two more circles to ensure my eyes
weren’t playing tricks on me, then went to the cage directly
behind me and tested the solidity of its bars. I knew it hadn’t
existed a moment before because I walked through that spot, but the
bars rattled proving themselves real. I was giving them a second
shake, just to be sure, when I heard a sound from behind me like
kids make by putting their finger in their cheek and pulling it out.
Only this was loud enough the finger and cheek would have needed to
be enormous. I spun toward the sound.

Two people stood
with their backs to me in the previously empty platform cage: a
woman whose blond hair cascaded down her back and a fellow beside
her who looked about eight inches taller, his unkempt brown hair
brushing the tops of his shoulders. I took a couple of steps toward
the bars for a closer look.

The woman turned
her head, sweeping her gaze over the line of tents, long hair
falling across her forehead, beside her cheek, but I saw her profile
and recognized her instantly.

My chest tightened
and I took another step closer to the bars.

My movement must
have caught her attention because her eyes flickered in my
direction. When they fell on me, she turned and I looked into Poe’s
face. She raised her hand to her mouth, covering her lips, caught so
completely off guard by my presence that she didn’t know what
else to do. I didn’t react.

Not until Trevor
looked at me.

His eyes met mine
without recognition or comprehension. His blank expression didn’t
alter as his gaze swept over me, over the cages behind me. He looked
lost.

“
Trevor?”

I grabbed the bars,
my heart suddenly beating so hard against my ribs I heard it in my
ears. My hands squeezed the cold, rusty metal, the blood forced out
of my fingers until my knuckles went white.

Trevor didn’t
respond, didn’t so much as look at me. I switched my gaze back
to Poe who still held her hand over her mouth.

“
What
have you done?” I demanded between clenched teeth. “
What
have you done?”

Bruce
Blake-All Who Wander Are Lost

I shook the bars
and Poe’s eyes widened while Trevor continued acting like a
man trying to figure out where he was and how he got there. The
thought of Trevor as a man rather than a boy loosened my chest, as
well as my grip on the bars. I breathed deep through my nose,
inhaling the sweet smell of the straw scattered across the cage
floor as the thought of my son growing up made me both proud and
sad, distracted me until I recognized the look he wore. I’d
seen it before when I met Alfred Topping, and when I’d
accidentally killed Detective Williams.

It was the
expression I’d seen on the faces of souls surprised to be free
of their earthly bodies.

All hint of
reminiscence and pride disappeared as fury overwhelmed me at the
thought my supposed guardian angel had harvested my son’s
soul.

Like she’d
harvested my mother’s.

“
What.
Have. You. Done?”

I emphasized each
word with a shake of the bars and had a momentary flash that, from
Poe’s perspective, I must have looked like a child having a
temper tantrum inside my play pen. The idea she may have considered
the thought angered me further.

“
Icarus,
I--”

“
Ric,
for Christ’s sake. Why the fuck can’t you call me Ric?”

Her hand dropped
from her face. Her mouth quivered a little at the corners; her
obvious upset fortified me. She stared at me for a full minute and I
simply glowered back at her.

“
Ric,”
she said finally, her voice a whisper.

Hearing her say my
name the way I preferred gave me a sense of accomplishment, as
though I’d won. With my slack-faced son staring vacantly
beside her, the feeling disappeared quickly.

“
What
did you do to him? Who sent you for him?”

“
I
didn’t do anything. I --”

“
Did
Azrael send you?”

“
No.
I--”

“
Piper
said you were working for them.”

Her expression
changed, hardened.

“
Piper’s
a liar.”

“
Then
how do you explain this?”

I gestured toward
Trevor whose back was to us as he looked in the direction of the
forest. His face was hidden from me, but I imagined him staring, awe
struck by the size of the trees. I gritted my teeth and attempted to
set Poe alight with my glare. It didn’t work.

The look on her
face sagged when she answered.

“
It
was a mistake.”

“
A
mistake? A
mistake?
How
do you bring a teenage boy to Hell by mistake?”

“
I
came to save you. He followed.”

Her statement gave
me a fraction of a second’s pause before my response seethed
between my lips.

“
Like
you saved my mother?”

She couldn’t
keep her eyes on me. She looked at her feet, shoulders sagging to
match her expression. Trevor scuffled his feet as he turned to peer
at the canvas tents. A breeze blew through the circle of cages,
stirring the straw at their feet, flapping a corner of one of the
tents. That seemed to grab his attention.

“
Trevor.
Trevor!”

No dice.

“
I
had no choice, Icar...Ric. I had to.”

“
Had
to condemn my mother to Hell?”

She nodded, then
shook her head like someone who couldn’t decide how to answer.

“
Yes,
I mean no. I didn’t condemn her. I only...I only took her.”

“
Took
her to live for eternity here.”

This time she
nodded but still wouldn’t meet my eyes.

“
And
now you’ve done the same with my son.”

She responded
immediately, shaking her head vehemently and finally meeting my
eyes. Her gaze held mine for a second before straying past me,
peering over my shoulder as if someone stood behind me. I fought the
urge to turn.

It’s a
trick. If I look, she’ll disappear and take Trevor with her.

That’s what
happens in movies—I wouldn’t be so stupid. When Poe’s
eyes widened and her expression changed, I thought it might be a
possibility I was either wrong or Poe was a really good actress.

I watched fear
creep across the guardian angel’s face.

†‡†

“
And
now you’ve done the same to my son.”

His words slammed
against Poe like he’d thrown a glass of cold water in her
face.

I didn’t
mean to bring him. I’m sorry. I don’t want to hurt him.
I’ll do anything to make it better. Please forgive me, Icarus.
We came to save you. I want the best for you and Trevor. I love you.

All the possible
responses ricocheted through her mind, the last words surprising
her. She didn’t expect it, not here, not now, not like that.
She shook her head and looked up, lips parted to counter his
accusation, but nothing came out. She peered into his eyes for a
moment and longed to tell him all—everything that had happened
to her in life and after, to tell him she understood better than
anyone what he’d gone through in the past few months, about
her years being a Carrion against her will, of Michael saving her.

Michael.

All those things
danced on the tip of her tongue but a movement behind Icarus caught
her attention. Her eyes flickered to a spot over his shoulder.

Two figures stood
in the center of the rough ring of cages: a tall man dressed in
black and a boy younger than Trevor. The man towered over his
companion like a huge pepper grinder sitting on the table beside a
mismatched salt shaker.

A shiver gripped
Poe. She knew both of them and wished neither of them were here. The
man was Azrael, the angel of death, banished from Heaven for an act
Poe now knew he didn’t do. The responsibility for bringing
souls to Hell belonged to him—the man who truly condemned the
damned.

The boy was
something far worse.

Behind them,
figures populated the previously empty cages. To the left, two men
squatted peering through the bars of one: Marty and Todd. She’d
met them once before, and then in a fight, but knew Icarus’
old drinking buddies because she’d hovered close by, watching
out for him during his drinking binges before he knew he had a
guardian angel. In the next cage slouched a man she didn’t
know, though she thought she’d seen his face before. The next
held the man who used to sell Icarus drugs. Beside him, in a cage
not quite big enough for him to stand, Father Dominic glared out
between the rusty bars. From her vantage point, she found it
difficult to tell if he directed the ire in his expression at Icarus
or the back of Azrael’s head.