Hunting in Hell (24 page)

"To this day, many parties are unhappy with their rule, including a mostly guerilla resistance known as The Movement or The Damned, depending on who you ask.
 
Their numbers are fewer every day though, as the Consortium has hunted and exterminated them with a vengeance."

He gave her some time to digest that information.
 
The wind whipped up harder and he moved in closer to the fire, warming his hands and exposed torso.

"I have been a horse for so long.
 
It is good to be a man again."
 
He sighed, heavy and light at the same time.

She cocked her head, catlike.
 
"And if you leave Hell?
 
What happens then?"

"I have no idea.
 
Had I known that returning would have brought me my right body, I might have tried sooner.
 
Then again, I might not have."

He inhaled deeply.
 
In that moment, she tried to guess what he would say next, but her mind was a blank.
 
Unsettled, her hand stole down to her side and stroked the smooth curve of
Bluot.
 

"De la Roca, to tell the truth, I am not sure what we should do now.
 
We are in a
very
precarious situation.
 
I have the feeling that the angel that has visited you might in fact be Laufeyson.
 
If that is so, then the death of both Muninn and Thyrsus are on our heads, and the Consortium will soon come looking for us.
 
On top of that, I do not think they will be happy to see me in this form."

For a moment, she almost voiced her own reservations about the Angel's appearance.
 
Then, she noticed the way that Alsvior could not hold her stare.
 
His eyes flicked to hers and back away like a dancing mosquito.
 

Perhaps Laufeyson was not the only one hiding something from her.

Ultimately, she decided on an answer that wouldn't give anything away.
 
"So, what do you suggest, then?"

"That depends upon you.
 
We need to get off of this beach; that much I am sure of.
 
To the east is ocean, and to the west, a desert.
 
We would be completely exposed.

"If we turn south at first light and keep a decent pace, we might hit the forest in a day, maybe longer.
 
The trees are thick enough to hide for days, even weeks.
 
But eventually, we will be seen; any being that catches glimpse of us may report word to the Consortium, and once they have an exact fix on our location, I doubt we could avoid capture.

He pursed his lips.
 
"So, if we go south, the Consortium will find us.
 
They might send us, or at least you, back to Earth.
 
Given that they are not known for their mercy, a more likely scenario is that they would kill both of us."

"And Laufeyson?
 
Where is he?"
 
The words came out bitter, acid with the need for revenge, but her motivation for the question was more than superficial.
 
Either the Angel was real, and Laufeyson was her next target, or the Angel was Laufeyson - and he was
still
her next target.

Alsvior shook his head.
 
"I don't know."
 
He sighed and looked away.
 
The silence extended until it was quite uncomfortable, yet he refused to meet her eyes.
 
Instead, he curled and uncurled his fingers, making them dance in the firelight, playing with them the way a child might play with a new toy.
 

Finally, he looked up at her, his face tight and somehow guarded.
 
"There is a way to find him, but it comes at a price."

She cocked her head sideways and narrowed her eyes.
 
"
Do
tell."

NINE

L
ater, Alsvior would try to find the moment where turning back was no longer an option.
 
Had it been during that first night, as he marveled at his fingers by firelight, captivated by their ingenious design?

Or was it the moment he mentioned Laufeyson and hinted that he knew of a way to locate the man?
 
Surely, he had sensed how driven she was to find him?
 
By then, had his decision already been made?
 

Some nights, he would be haunted by the idea that he could have turned back at any time and spared them both the pain that followed.
 
Those nights were the worst.

TEN

"
T
he Oracle shouldn't be much farther."

De la Roca lifted a dark eyebrow and cleared her throat, her face fidgeting in a way he had never seen it do before.
 
"How does it work?"

"
She
is hard to describe, and to be honest, I don't know that much about her.
 
I don't think that anybody does.
 
When the angels arrived in Hell, she was already here in her fortress.
 
Some say she is the soul of this place."

"Is that true?"

"Irrelevant.
 
And, if it
is
true, then given the state of Hell, she must be wicked beyond measure."
 
He snorted.
 
"I think you will find her abilities far more interesting; she answers questions, but always for a price."

De la Roca ran her tongue over her top teeth, sucking in air.
 
The sound made his jaw hurt.

"How much?"

He shrugged.
 
"It's different for everybody, but never cheap.
 
It's usually an object, something that you hold dear - an article of clothing, a trinket.
 
I've heard of her asking for tasks."
 
He held up a hand, making sure of her attention before he continued.
 
"This is important though - the Oracle is
not
to be trusted."

"There's a lot of that going around these days."
 

For a brief moment, Alsvior's mouth was filled with the copper taste of fear.
 
He was sure that she didn't know anything more of his past than he had told her.
 
Why, then, were rivulets coursing through his stomach and making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up?

Perhaps the rumors about her reading thoughts had been true
- but no, that didn't make sense either.
 
They had spent
centuries
together in close, emotional contact -
if she had the
akra
of reading minds, why hadn't she ever used it
- unless it didn't work on him as a horse? She had punished him once, with the
akra
of animals.
 
Was there another
akra
that worked on him now?

He took in a deep breath and attempted to center himself.
 
If she
could
read minds, then his plan was worthless anyways, and any choices she made were her own.
 
So the best thing was just to give her the option and proceed with the plan.
 

But what if she couldn't read minds?
 
Then what was he sending her into?
 

He was filled with the sudden need to run as freely as he had when he had four legs, punishing himself until he was wheezing and lathered.
 
Anything would be better than this.
 

Like a leaf drifting down on a current of air, a solution floated to him, one that appealed to his need for absolution.

Convince her to go south, and tell her to run.
 
You owe her that much.

He could tell that she was waiting for a response.
 
He struggled to keep his voice level and his face blank.
 

"De la Roca, the Oracle is protected by a nearly impenetrable fortress.
 
We'd have to fight our way in, and there's a very real chance that we could die.
 
Even if we gained entry and asked her a question, she'd just as soon kill us as let us leave.
 
We should pick up now and push south as quickly as we can."

"Push south?
 
And
what
- hide like
dogs
? For how long?"
 
Her eyes flashed dangerously.
 
"We may not be angels, but we are not
animals
either!"
 
Her voice stopped at the look on his face, yet she made no move to apologize.
 
"And even if we did manage to hide from your Consortium - then what?
 
How do we go back?
 
And why would we even bother?
 
Are we safe there?"

Alsvior opened his hands wide, a priest bestowing his blessings.
 
"I don't know.
 
I don't know anything, okay?
 
But the Oracle … we don't want to do that.
 
Will you just trust me on that?"

She pursed her lips.
 
"
Trust
is a luxury that few can afford.
 
I don't trust you and I'm not a fan of hiding.
 
It's not my way of doing things. If it brings about my death, then so be it."
 
As she spoke, her hand meandered down to her hip, and she stroked
Bluot'
s holster. "I have someone to find, and I'm going to do that by any means necessary."

He could hear the influence of the Oracle in her voice.
 
The matter was already out of his hands, then.
 
How stupid he was, to think that he could escape this fate!

"We leave at first light.
 
How long will it take us to get there?
 
How far is it?"

"I don't exactly know."

De la Roca's eyebrows shot up, the surprise obvious on her face.
 
"I got the impression you had been there before."

"I have, but traveling works differently in Hell.
 
How quickly you reach a destination depends on many things, only one of them being the pace at which you set out.
 
How
badly
you want to reach a place - that is
more
important.
 
And how much those at your destination desire for you to arrive - that trumps everything else."

De la Roca did not answer, and he didn't attempt to explain again.
 
It was pointless to describe the time-stretching, distance-skipping
slide
of Hell to one who had not experienced it.
 
It seemed unjust that she might soon die in a place she didn't understand.
 
Then again - some things were not meant to be understood.
 

He watched wordlessly as she made an examination of her inventory. The need for conversation tickled in his chest, but the dry feeling in his mouth refused to abate.

Eventually, he let the matter go.
 
There is time,
he thought, but deep down, he knew there wasn't.

#

Alsvior lay on his back, marveling at Hell's constellations.
 
Although the points of light were familiar, placed in the same locations, there was no way that he could have mistaken this sky for Earth's.
 
The lack of light pollution made the stars so numerous, comparing the two was like contrasting a candle with a bonfire.
 

Eventually, fatigue blurred the stars together and ringed them with halos.
 
Grateful, he closed his eyes, points of lights still flashing on the screen of his eyelids.
 
He had already started slipping into unconsciousness when she called out to him.

"Alsvior?"

After hearing her dreamy mutter, he wondered if she was asleep or awake.
 
His skin prickled as he answered softly. "Yes?"

She rolled over onto one elbow.
 
Flat on his back, his face towards her, he could just make out the gleam of her eyes in the last embers of the fire.
 
"I want to ask you something."

In truth, he didn't want to answer anything that she could ask now, but his guilt made him acquiesce.
 
"What?"

"Have you ever asked the Oracle for anything?"

It was a question he had dreaded.
 
"Yes."
 
He could barely manage the word.

"For what?"

He squeezed his eyes tight, fighting the burn of the memory.
 
How could he explain this in words - everything that was needed, wanted, and everything that was lost?

You don't have to,
whispered a lonely voice from within.
 
She's an emotional cripple, a half-person with no memories.
 
No amount of explanation would ever make her understand.