Hunting in Hell (17 page)

"I have come with a gift for you," she called out, willing the tremble out of her voice.

Gift? Thyrsus a giftening silver gold virgins a sacrifice wine Thyrsus.

The forceful madness of the words pressed against her mind in waves.
 
Too soon, she knew, her self-made barriers would fold over like paper dolls.
 

Thyrsus gift choosing yes delicious Mademoiselle so delicious virgin nice want—

His litany needled further into her mind.
 
She could feel pieces of it infiltrating, spreading through her thoughts like a disease, the contagion unstoppable in its fury.

"No!" She held up her fist.
 
Quickly, she created the waypoint, the combined efforts of blocking him out and manipulating the world's planes draining her life-force in a rush.
 
She doubled over as the circle winked into existence.
 
With an inhuman jerk, she opened her hand, exposing the crystalline marble within.

It had taken all of her power to pose as the Angel in De la Roca's dream.
 
In fact, without the second Eye of Muninn, it would have been impossible.
 
But Thyrsus had to be dealt with, even if it meant De la Roca's end, and lying to the mercenary had been the only way to do it.
 
Even with the power of the Eye, she had only been able to implant the facsimile stone with just enough false memories to make the mercenary useful.

It would have been easier to just give her the real stone, but she had other plans for it.
 

Muninn-stone?
 
Brother stone Muninn stone memory stone Muninn virgin wine want want Muninn brother hate hate stone!

She threw it into the waypoint.

For a moment, she felt his
push
intensify.
 
She was certain she had made a grave mistake, that Thyrsus would consume her as easily as a breath of air.
 
Then the floor beneath her disappeared into a void, and she felt herself falling.

Thyrsus was gone.

He had taken the bait.

* * *

De la Roca immediately realized that something was wrong.
 
The air was so cold that Alsvior's breath plumed in heavy lines.
 
The Mademoiselle had explained that time would pass slowly in this new plane, but she had not conveyed the
scale
of the difference.
 

The hours passed into lightless days, and De la Roca was sure that she would go mad.

Her only comfort was Alsvior.
 
When her mind started to drift away from her, the lack of light spawning unfriendly hallucinations in the dark, he would come to her, pushing at her body with his head, anchoring her back within her body.

Soon, though, his ministrations grew fainter, and she wondered if she was drifting beyond his reach.
 
Perhaps he was being affected by the lack of reality as well.

Her ample time to think only increased her feelings of loss.
 
She had assumed Laufeyson her lover, for one brief day.
 
The feeling—the
need—
had been so intense that learning the truth had crumpled her heart within her chest.
 
What kind of demon was she, to crave a connection so?
 

She had trusted the Mademoiselle, after his betrayal, only to be abandoned, interminably floating in a cold, black void of dream-space.
 
And then came the inevitable conclusion—what if the Mademoiselle had been lying all along, the only plan to leave her body drifting through timeless, dark sands?

As if from a distance, she heard Alsvior chuff, and her attention focused again on the world around her.
 
The air, once so stagnant, had a different smell.
 
After what seemed a month—perhaps a year—of living in absolute, unchanging sameness, it held the vibrant energy of the air before rain.

She sought Alsvior out with her hands.
 
The firm smoothness of his muscled legs recentered her even more.
 
She worked her fingers up his body, until she found his back, and with a motion more instinctive then conscious, she mounted him.

A point of light shimmered into existence.
 
It grew into a glowing circle, a flat plane, chest-high, that spun and flickered.
 
After so long in the dark, the intense light was blinding.

She dug her heels in once, and he took off toward the circle, the gap closing quickly.
 
Before they could reach it, a tiny crystal flew out, glinting and sparkling in the light like a diamond.
 
Alsvior immediately halted and shuffled backwards, his hooves skidding across the dark sand.
 

A roar echoed from the circle, one that shook both the mind and the ear-drums.
 
It was followed closely by an unholy thrum—
feed want shiny shiny want brother stone shiny want Thyrsus!

The name galvanized her, even as the fog of madness washed over her mind in waves.
 
"Back up!
 
Circle back," she cried to Alsvior, and he complied readily.
 
For the first time since they had entered this plane, they were again as a single organism, and even in the chaos, De la Roca felt a brief thrill of joy at their unity.
 

The creature burst out of the hole in the opposite direction, a black mass that was impossible to identify.
 
She caught a glimpse of feathers and unholstered her guns in response.
 
It charged away from her and then stopped, motionless.
 
It cast a tembling mass—
the head?—
left and right.
 
Strains of confusion and fury wove themselves into madness needling into her mind.
 

I should attack now, before it is aware of me.
 
Yet her muscles had refused to function.
 
The creature's thoughts were boring further into her mind, the tiny pinpricks of disease pulsing with their own pressure.

Stone stone stone where stone want stone brother stone where!

Blinking, she realized it was referring to the crystal, to—the Eye!
 
It was the Eye of Muninn, as radiant as it had been in her dream!
 
If she could just take hold of it, then
… then what
?
 
Her instinct told her that it was imperative she take the stone, but her mind could not fill in the gaps.
 

Alsvior urgently nudged her knee with his head.
 
She pointed at the stone, her arm extended far out in front of his eyes, and he took off, his hooves tearing into the earth.
 
It was as if he understood the importance of their mission—perhaps he did.

It was close now—
five seconds—four—three
—she reached her hand down and slid sideways in the saddle, ready to scoop it up from the ground.

And then, like a shot, Thyrsus appeared as if from nowhere and covered the stone with his giant black body.
 
Alsvior stumbled, unable to pivot or check his speed, and she tumbled from the saddle, falling on top of the demon.
 
There was just enough time to register the sensation of feathers, softer than she had ever dreamed possible, and then the creature took wing, zooming away from her, the stone in his talons.

De la Roca's brief contact with the creature had made his influence worse, opening up the minute holes of his madness into larger channels.
 
His contagion flooded into her, rocketing around through her brain, and she doubled over, screaming, her hands clamped to her head.

Yes yes yes mine mine mine brother stone Muninn stone mine mine mine!

And then the Mademoiselle herself came through the portal, just in time to see the giant creature's flaps become more erratic, his trail zig-zagging across the horizon.
 
She held up a hand, and the portal closed, plunging them into darkness.

* * *

The Mademoiselle could hear Thyrsus screaming, the echoes pressing in on the delicate confines of her mind.
 
She couldn't hear De la Roca at all.

"Goddamn this darkness!" Unlike many others of her brethren, she did
not
have the
akra
of lights.

In response, Alsvior lit his mane and tail.
 
She was momentarily blinded by the flare, but once her eyes adjusted, she could see the form of De la Roca, writhing on the ground.
 
Her mouth was covered with a patina of foam, and her eyes were rolled back far enough in her head that only the whites remained.

Her gaze flicked over to Thyrsus.
 
His shadowy form was convulsing, the sharp edges disappearing and reappearing again.
 
From time to time, a hole would form in his body, and the light caught the sparkle of something crystalline.
 
The Eye. It has the Eye.

She bolted to De la Roca's body.
 
I could do it now.
 
Her hand stole down to De la Roca's right side, intent on taking
Bluot
.
 
As if it sensed her presence, the gun began to hum.
 
She could feel its warmth under her palm, the smooth surface of its metal, and she gently pulled it out of its holster.

De la Roca moved suddenly in reflex, her hand clamping down upon the Mademoiselle's.
 
"
Laufeyson betrayer die coming die soon deathbringer Bluot call Bluot NOW
!"
 
As she screamed, the mercenary sat up and slapped the Mademoiselle across the face with her free arm, before hitting her once in the throat.
 
Within seconds, she was on her feet, both guns drawn and pointed at the Mademoiselle.
 
Bluot
was humming with an unholy roar.

* * *

No no no mother no no no deathbringer yes yes yes.

De la Roca's mind was a kaleidoscope of spinning images.
 
At times, she was almost lucid enough to see the world around her, dusky shapes against a background of whirling lines and blurry outlines.
 
She would reach out just long enough for her hand to come into her field of vision, and then the world would be gone again, plunging her into a darkness that echoed with horrific voices.

And then, there was something else, a large mass moving in front of her.
 
She felt a sear of hot pain at her side, and she knew that somehow, this creature was attacking her.
 

Who-who-who-who-who—

Demon killer demon ender demon be traitor!
 

The form in front of De la Roca was vague and shadowy, but as she stared, it took shape, lines solidifying into strong muscles and hazel eyes.
 
It was not him, not exactly, and yet, somehow it was.

Laufeyson-laufeyson-son-of-laufey
.
 
Thyrsus gun no take traitor die!
 
She cocked the hammer and squeezed the trigger, aiming right for the creature's head.

* * *

Bluot
launched the bullet, and as it spiraled toward the Mademoiselle, she had one last thought—
forgive me.
 
I had no other choice.
 
And then the bullet whistled by her ear, close enough for her to feel its warmth, and buried itself into the dark feathered mass of the creature behind her.
 

Eighteen