Even Hell Has Knights (Hellsong) (38 page)

Home. I want to go home.

He tasted blood in his mouth, and stopped biting his lip. Galen wouldn’t approve of that, he knew. It was just giving the hound one more drop to smell.

Galen’s gaze narrowed when he saw Patrick’s corpse. He looked at Arturus accusingly.

As if I was in charge. As if I could have stopped it.

“We’re going to have to leave here soon,” Galen said.

“How?” Johnny asked. “Most of us can’t even walk. Kyle’s hopeless.”

“It doesn’t matter. A hound heard us.”

“We could move downstream,” Arturus suggested.

“Nope,” Duncan answered. “That’s where the hound is.”

Galen nodded. “I went looking for it, but I didn’t spend too much time. I couldn’t find it.”

“Upstream then,” Aaron said. “That’s our only chance.”

Galen shook his head. “That current’s swift. If we were healthy we could do it, but as we ar
e
. .
.
”

Arturus struggled to find a plan. There didn’t seem to be one. “Anywhere we go, we’ll leave a trail.”

Galen nodded.

“What are we going to do?” Johnny asked. “Hold our asses and pray?”

“I’ll carry Kyle,” Galen said. “There’s another room like this one nearby.”

“And what about us?” Johnny looked angry.

Aaron struggled to his feet. “You crawl.”

“Come,” Galen said. “I’ll show you the place. It’s not far.”

Galen collected some of their remaining shirts in order to wrap Kyle’s legs. He reset the wounded hunter’s tourniquets, too. Kyle passed out, either from the pain, the lack of blood, or both.

“I hope he doesn’t start screaming,” Avery said.

He better not.

Arturus tied his boots’ laces together and hung them around his neck.

Better to be barefoot for now.

Arturus and Aaron leaned on each other for support again after they had made it down the stairs. Behind them, the rest crawled.

“Try not to bleed too much,” Galen warned.

Avery gave him an angry look, but Galen had moved on.

The purple walls passed by, and again Arturus couldn’t hold them in his mind. He tried to remember at least one room in five so that he might find his way back. The attempt was futile.

I’m lost.

After about ten minutes, Galen laid down Kyle and let them rest. The shirts on the wounded hunter’s legs were soaked with blood.

Aaron and Arturus sank to the ground together. Aaron produced the blonde braid and ran his fingers over it. They were all out of breath.

Galen moved to watch the exits.

Arturus looked to him. His father seemed different somehow. Arturus had always taken him for granted. Now he felt he could see the man as the hunters might. He was comforted by how Galen was so well respected. Part of him had always felt that Galen was the greatest fighter in all Hell, but he had always assumed that was his own bias. It felt good to have the notion confirmed.

Everything he taught me is right. Everything he taught me is precious. I want to be like him.

He heard the hound’s howl again, though it was very distant. When the last of the howl had passed, Arturus shuddered.

“Is that Alice’s?” he asked Aaron.

Aaron looked up from the braid. “Yeah. You like her, don’t you?”

The question seemed abnormally bold, as if they were supposed to know such things, but not say them. “Of course, she’s the prettiest girl in Harpsborough,” Arturus answered. “It’s a shame I’m too young for her.”

Let him think I’m mature. Let him think I don’t dream about her every night. Let him think that it won’t break my heart and soul when he takes her.

Aaron nodded. “She made me promise to take care of you.”

“Really?”

“She did. But you carry your own weight.”

“We carry each other’s.”

As they were sitting shoulder to shoulder, Arturus felt his silent laugh.

“That’s really true,” Aaron said.

Arturus gave his own silent chuckle.

Literally.

The hound burst into the room.

Arturus found himself standing, his gun in his hand. Galen was already firing Mabe’s silenced pistol. He dropped it after it was unloaded. There had only been four bullets left. The hound leapt at him. Galen pivoted away on his left foot, batting at the hound’s paws with his arm. As the hound landed, Galen gave it a soccer style kick to its ribs. The impact was enough to lift the monstrous animal.

It struck out again, leaping at him and snapping with its jaws. Galen kept his hands high and stopped the beast’s momentum by slamming both of his arms into its right shoulder. With his right hand, the warrior grabbed the thing’s ear and used that as leverage to push his forearm into its neck. The hound tried uselessly to bite at him. Galen overhooked its foreleg with his left arm. The hound must have weighed nearly four hundred pounds, but Galen was able to keep it half standing.

Galen turned to the side suddenly, as if he were going to try one of the hip throws he had taught Arturus, but instead he planted his leg next to the hound’s and dropped. They tumbled to the ground, Galen’s momentum rolling the thing as he kept a hold of its foreleg and ear.

A suicide throw. He showed me that. Everything he taught me works.

The hound struggled, feet clawing at the air, coming up on its side. It tried to regain its footing, but the throw had landed it next to the chamber’s wall. Galen kept the thing’s back legs from clawing him by putting his knee on its belly. He let go of the hellhound’s ear and clutched for the knife at his belt. The hound bit at him, but the warrior’s blade slashed its throat. Galen held it there, pinned against the stone, as it bled out.

Arturus holstered his weapon.

Aaron’s mouth hung open. “How?”

“The Carrion,” Galen said. “It was my home.”

“Who’s winning?” Father Klein asked Michael and Davel as entered the parlor room.

“He is,” Michael said. “He’s always winning.”

Mancini frowned. “You’re getting better.”

“No, you’re getting drunk.”

Mancini let out a laugh.

“Do you mind if I speak to you alone, First Citizen?” Klein asked.

Michael looked up from the board upon hearing the honorific. “Of course.”

The Father did not often use his title.

Mancini started to stand, but Klein stopped him. “Please stay. Mike, would you mind having this discussion in the church?”

Michael shrugged. “Of course not, Father, lead on.”

The First Citizen stood up and walked with Klein out of the parlor room.

“Did you get a chance to speak with Molly?” Michael asked as they walked down the stairs.

“Sure did, but she wouldn’t say much. I think you’re right, she did give the Infidel Friend the information. Aaron said he gave a little too, but he was probably just being too hard on himself.”

“Probably,” Michael said. “He’s a little misguided at times, but he’s not foolish enough to do too much harm. Did she tell you why she opened up to him?”

Father Klein pushed his way through the door curtain that separated the stairway from the first floor waiting room. He held it open for Michael. “At first I feared that she might be a traitor. You know, maybe she was the one who put corpsedust down Ole’ Bense’s throat. But she’s locked herself up in that hovel like a hermit since. She’s been crying herself to sleep each night. She wandered pretty far into the wilds the other day. As far as Riverbend.”

“Jesus.”

“I know. Even the hunters don’t always go out that deep.”

They passed through the next door blanket. The aroma of the Fore, perfumed with burning incense, did a lot to protect Michael’s nostrils from the stink that had clung to the town since the death of the giant spider. Michael gave out a dry heave as the smell of Harpsborough hit him head on.

“You all right?” Father Klein asked.

“Sure, sure,” Michael responded. “Must’ve had too much dyitzu. You think she’s found something out there?”

Michael stepped over one of the sleeping villagers. A couple more people scattered out of their way as they walked towards the church. Kylie’s Kiln was lit, so the air was smoky. That, at least, was a smell that the First Citizen had come to love. Kylie may not have been the best looking woman in Harpsborough, but she was certainly one of the most giving. The pottery smoke reminded him of the soft times they’d spend together in the mornings. It was more appealing than the coppery odor of Mancini’s still or Copperfield’s scent of woodstone dust—and a hell of a lot nicer than sweat and spider guts.

“Can’t imagine it,” Father Klein was saying. “I think she might be wandering. Hoping to get lost or killed.”

One of the younger villagers nearly ran into them. Michael caught the young man and steadied him before passing on. He heard the mixed shouts of victory and defeat from the gamblers behind him.

“That bad? You think she’s suicidal.”

“Could be, Mike. Could be.”

“How? What could he have said?”

“I don’t know. I think maybe she fell in love with him.”

Michael stopped dead in his tracks. It took Klein a few steps before he noticed and turned around.

“Love?” Michael asked. “After one conversation?”

“They’re tricky things, those Infidel Friend. He might have picked up on how weak she was. She thinks everyone hates her, uses her.”

“She might be right.”

“Could be.” Father Klein shrugged. “Maybe it didn’t take much. He probably just showed her a little respect. Perhaps he politely declined a sexual advance while complimenting her. Probably did it deliberately, that unfaithful bastard. Broke her down just to get her to spill the goods.”

“Well, I’m sure her head will clear up in a few days. She’s probably too pussy to get herself into too much trouble. Not many demons about. Still, I’d like her followed on one trip. Just to make sure she’s not found another Infidel Friend.”

“I’d like her followed more often than that,” Klein said as they started moving again.

“Why? You think she’s a traitor?”

“No, I think she might really get herself hurt.”

“She’s many things, but she’s not suicidal.”

Father Klein shook his head as he mounted the church steps. “I beg to differ. Remember, everyone talks to a priest. From what I hear I think she might be suicidal.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because that’s how she died, Mike.”

Their new chamber was even smaller than the last, the ceiling even lower. Arturus tossed his boots into one corner and looked down at his feet. He could only see his toes around the wrappings, but they felt fairly good.

He was very tired, though.

“I’ll need to leave soon, to make sure I get to the ritual,” Galen told Aaron.

The Lead Hunter nodded, out of breath, as he lay down against the stone.

Galen knelt, carefully lowering Kyle. The man seemed as light in Galen’s arms as a baby. This, and Galen hadn’t slept since they’d been in the Carrion. And he’d fought. And he’d scouted. And he’d carried the man for at least fifteen minutes.

“I’m going to mop up our trail,” Galen said.

Arturus watched him leave.

“Is he human, Turi?” Johnny asked.

Arturus laughed at first, but stopped when he saw the man’s question was in earnest.

“Yes.”

“Have you ever seen him tired?”

“Yes. He gets tired.”

He’s tired now. He’s just being proud.

Michael followed Father Klein into the church. The place was as busy as the rest of Harpsborough. Men and women sat together, chatting in the pews. Some were even on the floor. Only a couple were praying. Michael and Klein were greeted by everyone as they walked down the aisle.

Michael watched the shadows of the crosses slide down Klein’s back as they moved towards the front of the church and made their way to the side door that led to Klein’s private room.

Klein again held the door blanket open for Michael.