Hunting in Hell (11 page)

But there was nothing for her here.
 
Still swimming, she clenched her hands into fists.
 
It was time to leave.

She called on the stone, but her only reward was a feeling of lifeless, empty void.
 
She felt deeper within herself, sinking further, but the threads that had once guided her down refused to lead her back up.
 
As she dived into the freezing blackness, the murmurs grew louder, until she touched bottom.

I am a prisoner.
 

She floated through the dark water, stuck, for what felt like ages.
 
At times, she lost consciousness, and the ocean claimed her body, enveloping it with hunger.
 
Over and over, she awoke and paddled to the top, reaching for the thread to Alsvior and his quiet comfort, but he didn’t seem to notice her trouble.
 
She slipped away again, a sleeping form that somehow did not drown, until she awoke in front of the iceberg.

Massive, it sparkled with an internal light.
 

Was this what she had come for?
 

She paused, suddenly unsure of herself, but she knew the water held no answers.
  
She struck out with bold, resolute strokes, ripping through to the floating giant.
 
When she came to it, she paused again, tentative.
 
Finally, she reached out, her hand shaking.

Under her fingers, the ice was solid and reassuring—and
warm.
 
Desperate to shake the chill that had saturated her body, she clamped her hands on its surface and pulled.

As soon as she had cleared the water, the murmur of the thoughts grew louder.
 
Encouraged, she hauled herself to her feet.
 

Multiple voices suddenly assaulted her in a blistering cacophony, but only one of them was clear enough to decipher.
 

You have to—

The ocean bucked wildly, and she fell.
 
A swell of water splashed into her and the thoughts quieted, only to return as the wetness dripped off of her.
 
She stumbled again to her feet and tried to listen, the iceberg shook with another wave, and then another, the voices disappearing with each splash.
 

Go
, she heard.
 
It was the stranger's voice.
 

She tried again to listen to his thoughts.

GO
!

And suddenly, the iceberg, the ocean, all of it fell away as she tunneled up toward the surface.

* * *

"You're not a demon," said De la Roca, snapping out of her trance.
 
It was one of the only pieces of information she had been able to gather from her journey, and she pounced on it fiercely.
 

"Not exactly."
 
The newcomer grinned.
 
"But close enough."
 

From the brief flash of his consciousness she experienced, she had teased out two names—Laufeyson, and the "wolf-man".
 
She imagined that Laufeyson was the one he would use in current conditions; the wolf-man felt like something ancient, almost forgotten—even by himself.
 
Either way, she was not appeased.
 
"What are you?"

He rubbed his chin and looked past her, as if considering the matter.
 
"What am I not?
 
I'm not human, if that's what you're asking."

She gave him a pointed stare, and he laughed.
 
"Fine.
 
I am a mercenary like yourself.
 
Is that an acceptable answer?"

His answer rang with truth, but considering it merely reminded her of his lie.
   

"You have not been honest with me."
 
The barrels of her guns rose to punctuate her statement.
 
"You know what the Phoenix Well is, if not its location."
 
She had gleaned that much from the flash on the iceberg.

"True."
 
The newcomer nodded, and then shrugged, the motion easy and casual.
 
"But I need your help.
 
It seems that we have been assigned to the same prey, only I doubt I'd be able to handle it."

"And why, pray tell, would I help you?"

"Actually, I'd be helping you.
 
The terms of my contract—" He paused, taking another drag of his cigarette, "merely state the creature has to be dead.
 
It says nothing of who must kill it.
 
But he, well,
it
is very powerful, and very crafty besides, and I bet you could use the backup."

She bristled at his words.
 
"I can handle it."

He laughed and his hazel eyes glinted.
 
"Big words, when you don’t even know what it is that you'd be fighting."

"I need no help."
 
She stroked
Bluot
once before backing up toward the door.
 
"I should check on the Mademoiselle.
 
She should be awake by now."

"I doubt it," said Laufeyson.
 
The corners of his lips twitched as he suppressed a smile.

"And why is that?"
 
Her dark eyes flashed once with challenge.

He waved airily, dissipating the light cloud of smoke.
 
"You were not in my head for more than a few seconds."
 
How did he know—
he waved a wand in the Mademoiselle's direction.

"I have been to her Archives, once.
 
They span miles and require at least a half day to walk from one end to the other.
 
If she didn't have such complete knowledge of the volumes contained within, it would take her a lifetime to find anything."

She sucked on her top teeth.
 
"I don't think I quite understand."
 
What is he getting at, here?

"How long were you in there, floating in the ocean of my mind?
 
Hours?
 
Days?"

As if I'm going to tell you.

"For me and our four-legged friend—" Alsvior snorted at the trite reference. "The time barely paused.
 
Given how long the Mademoiselle's search will be, I doubt she is finished.
 
There are many references to the Phoenix Well throughout lore, but few provide any specific information regarding its location.
 
She will have to pull countless volumes and eliminate those that are dead ends or mere fabrications in an effort to find the only tome with the right information."

He pulled a small book out from inside of his jacket.
 
It was dusty, battered, with a yellowing to the pages that indicated its age.
 
"And even then, she will not find it.
 
This is the only one.
 
Now, will you assist me?"

De la Roca felt like she was being torn in half.
 
If Laufeyson spoke the truth—a big if, although he struck her as a confident man—then there was no other way to access the Phoenix Well but to go with him.
 
"I will listen to what you have to say, but we cannot leave until the Mademoiselle returns.
 
I have already agreed to protect her."

"An honorable demon.
 
How quaint."
 
His words dripped scorn, but De la Roca could detect something else underneath the barbs.
 
What is it?

"Fine, then.
 
Follow me in, there is much to discuss."
 
Without waiting for a response, he forced his way into the small house.
 
"By the way, my name is—"

"Laufeyson."
 
The flash of surprise in his eyes gave her a hint of pleasure.

Ten

"
T
he Phoenix Well is not too far from here."
 
Laufeyson stretched his arms upward, his shirt bunching and shifting with the motion.

De la Roca snorted.
 
"If that was true, we would know its location already.
 
The Mademoiselle has a veritable army of contacts in the area and has resided here for longer than you have been alive."
 
I think.

He guffawed heartily, but at which point, she didn't know.
 
"It is fairly inaccessible, my friend.
 
I doubt a human has ever seen that place or where it
leads.
 
They might sense it in passing, a weird vibration that raises the hackles, or an odd note to the noise of the wind that cannot quite be placed.
 
And even if one was to know of it
and
to find it, it would
still
be impossible to pass through.
 
You see, you need to conjure a waypoint for that."

"A waypoint … into
Hell
?"
 
Her nightmare sprang into her mind, the chilling screams and maniacal laugh roaring through her ears.
 
For a moment, she was caught there again, pinned to the earth, entrenched in the knowledge that everything was lost.
 
The plaintive wail of a child pierced through her mind.
 
She felt her once-dead heart start to race, and she begged it to be calm.

"No, De la Roca, not into Hell.
 
There are other planes than Earth, Hell, and Heaven, although I doubt you remember your brief journey through the last.
 
There are entire worlds of strangeness, worlds of wonder, worlds of glass and worlds of light.
 
There are countless worlds deserted, and just as many populated by creatures very much unlike any you have ever known."

She burned to ask how he knew so much—of other worlds, of
her
—yet even as she formed the question, it died on her lips.
 
It was clear from the way he spoke that he would not help her, not unless she helped him first.
 

Already, she knew she would.
 
"So where would we need to go?"

"This demon is a very intelligent one.
 
It holds the stone of memory, a
kevra
stone more powerful than you could imagine."
 
As he spoke, his eyes glittered and he tensed his hand into a fist.
 
"He has created himself a world, a terrifying dream-space that is more void than matter, a pocket that should not be.
 
This world, it vibrates over the Phoenix Well."

"Over?"
 
She cocked her head.

"I mean that it is the easiest point of access."

"There are others, then?
 
Other access points?"

"Perhaps.
 
Theoretically, there could be as many as there are stars in the sky, or grains of sand on the beach.
 
Most are weak and unstable, and will turn on you when you crossed over.
 
Honestly, there are no guarantees, when traveling between worlds, but picking the wrong point of entry will probably kill you."

De la Roca reflected on that, remembering her journey into his mental ocean.
 
He had sent her back, she was sure of that, because she could not have returned of her own volition.
 
What if she was caught again?
 
She doubted her prey would be so kind as to assist her, especially after she killed it.
 
She shivered.
 

Without warning, the Mademoiselle turned and stretched and a contraction of muscles rolled through her spine. She blinked rapidly while yawning, and pivoted to face De la Roca and the newcomer.
 
She squints at him with some considerable interest.
 
"Well hello, Laufeyson."