by Brian Fuller
How could Cain hurt him more? He had killed his parents. He had framed his brother for the murder and turned him into a Possessed. What else was left? What other sorrow could he inflict?
“Now,” Avadan continued, “Ashakaz, I’ve got to go talk to your daddy and let him know Helo has been incarcerated. Listen carefully. Helo only has to speak the name of the angel he’s seen and he’ll be healed and get another Bestowal. So I need you to spur your lethargic brain into at least a walking pace and keep a good eye on him while I’m gone. Cain would be very sad if he got out because Helo is now angel born and could do very naughty things to us. Do you understand?”
Ashakaz wrinkled her forehead as if surprised by the assignment and nodded.
“Good,” Avadan said. “I’ll be gone for twenty or thirty minutes. Welcome to my laboratory, prisoner 7717. I look forward to applying a little science to our budding relationship.”
Avadan stepped out, closing the cell door with a clang. Ashakaz tracked his departure, biting the nail on her right thumb, eyes distant.
Helo kept a sharp eye on her. Something was off about the petulant, stupid teenager act she’d put on since the start. As soon as Avadan’s steps faded down the hall, she turned and sauntered toward the electric chair, still gnawing on her thumbnail.
“So, Helo,” she said, putting her hands on her hips and jutting the left one out. Her face sharpened, gaze suddenly more intense and intelligent. “How’s my aunt Aclima?”
There was a question in her eyes, but the one she asked wasn’t it. “Fine.”
She nodded and started pacing a shallow track in front of him, heels clicking out a slow rhythm. “You switched hearts with her, right? So you must know her. I’ve got to think the Ash Angels wouldn’t have sent you to be captured after what Cain’s done to you. I don’t know Aclima as well as Cain, but I’m thinking she wouldn’t let anyone take her place, either. That means you tricked her, yes?”
So Ashakaz wasn’t the idiot Avadan took her for. Avadan might play around with costumes, but Ashakaz was the real actor.
“What does it matter?” Helo asked.
“So it is true,” Ashakaz said, nodding with a slight grin. “Don’t tell me you fell for that body of hers and the little walk she does. I swear she invented the sexy strut and has suckered guys with it for centuries.”
“Just want to keep her away from Cain,” Helo said. “I do like her little walk, though.”
“Typical,” Ashakaz said, though her mind was elsewhere, teeth back on the tortured thumbnail. “You know, ever since she changed to an Ash Angel, I have not been able to wrap my mind around it. Why her? She’s no better than the rest of us, and if you count what she pulled during her bitter wars with Cain in the early days, she might be one of the worst.”
“Kicking King out of the mortal world has to count for something,” Helo said.
“There is that,” Ashakaz said. “But why did she even do that? I have turned it over in my head again and again, and I can only think of one thing.” She stopped pacing and looked him in the eye. “You. I think she did it for you. It certainly wasn’t for Cain. When did you first meet Aclima? The Hammer Bar and Grill, right?”
“Look,” Helo said. “I want to talk to Cain. That’s it.”
Ashakaz shook her head. “He never comes here. This is Avadan’s playground, and if Cain is leery about any of us, he’s leery about Avadan. You need to get out or you’ll end up getting tortured for decades like the rest of the Ash Angels in here. I can help you.”
Helo sized her up. She was serious. Or maybe she was just playing another role. “Why would you help me?”
She shrugged. “I want out. I want what Aclima has. If I help you, maybe I can get out of this . . . life. It worked for her.” Her eyes teared up for a moment, and she turned and wiped them.
Helo’s mind raced. Dealing with ancient people was impossible. How many people had Ashakaz manipulated in her lifetime? She unbuttoned her black blouse, and then her red aura flared. With stiff fingers, she pushed into her chest cavity just beneath the sternum and ripped out her own heart.
“Now,” she said, voice a whisper, “do whatever angel thing and heal yourself. Do it quickly and I’ll tell you how to get out.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Now, Helo. You’ve got to trust me. I’m giving you my heart, here. You know the chance I’m taking.”
He was torn, but she had a point. Once he had her heart, he could burn it and the world would be free of one more Dread Loremaster. But if Cain wasn’t coming, then this looked like his best chance to escape.
He had to try, and he knew just the Bestowal he needed to protect himself in case she was up to something. But first: “Undo the restraints,” he said, “then I’ll do it.”
She nodded, setting her heart on the metal chair Avadan had abandoned and then working at the leather straps around his limbs and head. Without the aid of the straps to prop up his broken body, Helo slumped out and fell to the floor like a glob of Jell-O.
“Fleuramere,” he whispered, hoping she couldn’t hear.
Rapture flooded over him, body pulling itself back together, joy suffusing his being. He thought of the Bestowal he wanted, and as soon as he felt the knowledge fix itself into his mind, he activated it: Hallow.
A light flooded the floor around him, and he popped to his feet. Ashakaz gasped and grabbed her chest, her face a rictus of pain.
“Stop,” she begged, staggering into the wall. “Please. I want to help you.”
Helo killed the hallow, and she faced him, eyes angry. “That wasn’t necessary. Come here.” She grabbed her heart off the chair and unzipped his jumpsuit down to the waist. Her aura flared, and with a vicious punch, she shoved her heart into his abdominal cavity.
“Now listen,” she said, zipping his jumpsuit back up. “You’ve got about eight hours until sunset. That’s when I’m going to pop out of your body, so you’d better be good and gone.” She buttoned her shirt back up. “So here’s the thing. This place is one-third prison, one-third laboratory, and one-third costume closet for cousin whack-job Avadan. I’m going to tell you how to get out of here, but it’s up to you to get past the guards. There aren’t many on the inside, but there are at least thirteen on the outside. And I’m not talking Dreads or Possessed. Avadan guards this place with Shedim.”
Chapter 25
Escape
To complete the ruse, Ashakaz let him break her neck and leave her incapacitated on the floor. He broke the straps of the electric chair to make it look like he had busted out. After poking his head around the cell door for a quick look, he slipped out of his cell and turned left, as Ashakaz had instructed.
He felt the lump of her heart beneath his skin. The whole situation was weird, but it appeared Cain’s control over the Loremasters was either tenuous or nonexistent. Admah just wanted to be left alone, Ashakaz wanted out, and there were hints that maybe Avadan had ambitions of his own. Jumelia was still firmly in Cain’s camp, but what of Padru and Hrojax?
A howling scream from a cell somewhere behind him rubbed raw nerves. He needed to focus, to get out as fast as he could. If he could escape, then he could lead the Ash Angels here and save unnumbered victims of Avadan’s cruelty.
Stepping slowly, he stole forward, passing other cells carved out of the rock walls, each of a different design. Some looked like medieval dungeons, others like something out of a sci-fi movie, a simple county lock-up, or a federal supermax. Oddly, none of them was occupied, and even stranger, there didn’t seem to be any Vexus in this part of the prison. Though, as for that, the prison was a surreal kind of creepy, like the set of a horror show.
To get out, Ashakaz had told him to keep to the main hall and then turn right when it came to an intersection. The main exit to the mine-turned-prison was straight ahead, but she had warned him about a Sheid or two standing sentry there. Avadan had a secret exit—though not so secret to Ashakaz—through one of his clothes closets, of which there were several.
The wa
y seemed clear, the tunneled walls of the mine lit by single-bulb utility lights hanging from the ceiling on dark cords and casting pools of light along the corridor. Helo kept his concentration forward but sent part of his mind inward. Shedim could often be felt before they were seen, and if he encountered one, he had no way to kill it and would be recaptured for sure.
Just ahead, the intersection waited. If he proceeded straight, the hallway rose upward, natural light splashing on the rocky ceiling. But the sick feeling he’d expected washed over him from that direction. The Shedim were there, just as Ashakaz had said. Keeping his steps light, he darted right, finding a hallway dotted with carved openings, openings leading to small rooms packed full of all manner of clothes. Kimonos. Togas. Gowns. Tuxes. Suits. Surcoats. Kilts. Sarongs. Everything from ancient to modern. Avadan was a clotheshorse without peer. There was a literal fortune in apparel. And the man had more shoes—masculine and feminine—than a hundred dictators and their wives. How much of it was authentic, collected from times past? He wished he could take pictures. No one would believe him.
Ashakaz had said to go into the eighth room on the right, and Helo darted inside to find himself surrounded by rack after rack of hats of every shape and size. Dust thickly layered most, but one shelf completely devoted to top hats appeared well used. A velvet curtain hung on the back wall, framing a mirror, reminding him he was morphed as a teenager. Morphing back to an adult could wait. Helo peeled back the right edge of the curtain, finding a crudely carved tunnel concealed behind it.
No light graced the passage, and as soon as the curtain fell back into place, his eyesight was useless. He stretched out his hands on either side of him and walked forward, letting his fingers lightly caress the earthy walls to provide context for his journey. In this fashion he walked for nearly fifteen minutes before his eyes caught the first hint of light. He was close.
Slowly he inched forward, senses alive. Would a Shedim be standing sentry? A Dread, perhaps? But no sick feeling washed over him, and when the opening burst into view, there were no red or black auras waiting to greet him. Still, he trod as silently as he could until he could get a good view of what waited for him.
Trees.
Trees covered every last inch of every last acre around the exit, their spring-green leaves as vibrant as jewels in a bright afternoon sun. The birdsong was a welcome relief to the tormented cries of the prison. It was like leaving hell and ending up in the Garden of Eden.
A worn path wound through the dense wood, hugging the base of an overgrown hill. Under no circumstances, Ashakaz had said, was he to follow that path, which led to the business end of the mine and all the attendant security. He was to proceed directly ahead into the woods, which would intersect with a two-lane highway in about fifteen miles. He had hoped to reach it before dark, but the way ahead looked like a lot of bushwhacking, and not getting turned around in the thick forest would require remembering some of his outdoor excursions as a Marine—minus maps or technology. Luckily, the sun was already slanting down toward the west directly ahead of him, and if he could keep it there, he was golden.
With another quick glance around to make sure he was alone, he struck off into the undergrowth, cursing the bright-orange prison jumper that made him easily visible among the verdant green foliage swallowing him whole as he hiked deeper into the trees. The prison jumper wouldn’t help his chances at getting picked up on the road either, though he supposed he could do the naked thing again and hope for another trucker as friendly as Daniel to drive by.
The terrain rose and fell gradually as Helo guessed at a good path forward. He tried to keep low, following plant-rich gullies carved out by streams. The thick leaves of the bushes were his best chance at concealment, though fighting through the tangles of interwoven branches and damp grasses would slow him considerably. His Ash Angel body wouldn’t tire at the task, but his patience wasn’t so hearty. And as hard as it was to hike with any kind of speed, the woods seemed specifically designed to keep him from sticking to any kind of straight line west.
Rocky escarpments would appear out of nowhere, forcing him to track north or south until he could find a gentler slope to stumble down. Water gashed through the landscape at every turn, flowers with delicate bells or blazing red petals catching his eye. It would have been a pretty place were he not in such dire need to get out. He really wanted to be clear of the woods before the sun fell and Ashakaz became his hiking companion.
Confident he was outside the security perimeter of Avadan’s prison, he divided his concentration and worked to reshape his looks back into the buff security-guard persona he had been using. This took him well into the afternoon. As the light started to wane, insects seemed to wake up and fill the slanting beams of fire-colored light coursing down from a hazy sky. Helo stopped for a moment. He had to get a better look. He couldn’t guess how far he had come or how close to the road he was. Half the time it seemed like he was walking in circles.
A gap in the trees at a stream bend revealed a hill shouldering up above its neighbors, and Helo tromped his muddied, scratched-up feet in that direction, using his Strength to jump the stream and hike up the slope.
About halfway up the difficult incline, the trees thinned due to a rockfall that had crushed much of the growth beneath it. The clarity of having a full sky above him was a relief from the tree canopy that had robbed him of orienting vision for most of the day. He skirted to the side of the rockfall, but as he stepped over a fallen log, a black bear sow and her cub popped up just ahead of him, rising out of a nest of ferns near a trickling rill.
Helo froze. He had never been an avid hiker, but he knew surprising a sow with a cub was the fastest way to get into the stomach of a bear. But the mother bear just snorted and settled back in while the cub clambered over and nudged his leg.
Then Helo remembered. He was an Ash Angel, and for once he had actually attended a class with information he could use: animals, even wild ones, were friends of Ash Angels. The little cub reared up on its hind legs, its tiny black claws scraping against the orange jumpsuit. For all the horrors of the past few days, for all the pain that had dominated his heart, he couldn’t help but laugh softly. The wet nose and dark eyes pled with him, and he picked it up and sat down on a rock for a moment.
The cub licked his face, and he pushed it down and rubbed its back. It settled in, making some weird purring noise somewhere between a sputtering mower and a chuckle. Tension drained from him. It was stupid. It was stupid just to sit there. He had to get going, had to get to the top of the hill and figure out where he was. Before he knew it, Ashakaz would re-form. But he couldn’t help but think that maybe this was some kind of gift, some bizarre solace meant to find him.
He laughed again, feeling stupid. Who knew if someone were trying to hunt him down? He had to move. He breathed in and breathed out, the smell of damp dirt and fragrant flowers mixing in his nose, the gurgling water of the rill an invitation to rest and forget. He knew rest was an impossibility. Cain was out there. Aclima was out there. Poor Tela Mirren was out there, terrified for him. He had to get back, find his team.
“Gotta go, bud,” he said, setting the cub down.
Laughter broke out across the clearing, and he’d been alone for so long that for a second Helo half thought the bear cub was chortling at him. But the cub, perfectly at ease, scrambled off to rejoin its mother. And that laugh had a bit of African in its tone.
“Helo!” Shujaa yelled from somewhere across the rockslide, tone mirthful—a rare thing for him. “What are you doing out here?”
Helo stood, peering into the dense trees across the clearing. With a toothy grin that would have been visible from twice the distance, Shujaa and his friendly Ash Angel aura stepped out of the woods. His team had come for him. Relief. Helo closed his eyes and whispered a quick thank-you heavenward.
Helo met Shujaa halfway, navigating the tricky rocks that shifted with each step. A monster of a sniper rifle rested on the tall Ash Angel’s shoulder, and he
was loaded heavily for combat in the dark mission uniform of the Michaels.
“How’d you find me?” Helo asked.
“I didn’t,” Shujaa replied. “Wasn’t looking for you at all.”
“Then why . . .” but it hit Helo why he was here. They were looking for the prison. “You’re scouting around for Avadan’s prison, right? Rest of the team with you?”
“Yes,” he said. “We figured you might end up there . . . if you had survived. Admah’s been leading us since daybreak. Keeps saying it is close. Said I should see it if I came this far. Is it near?”
“It’s not,” Helo said. “Took me all day to get this far. He’s playing you.”
Shujaa nodded and shifted his rifle to both arms. “They tried to convince Admah we would let him go, but I think he knows better. Let’s go find the others. Aclima has been an angry bee since your little trick.”
Helo nodded and put his hands on his hips. She might not be happy about what he had done, but she also hadn’t been happy about the prospect of falling into Cain’s clutches. If he knew Aclima, he’d get a tongue-lashing, and if she had a sword, his head might find itself estranged from the rest of his body. But he’d take whatever punishment she dished out. He didn’t regret a thing.
“You going to call it in?” Helo asked as he followed Shujaa toward the opposite end of the rockslide.
“Nah,” he said. “I like a good surprise.”
“How far?”
“A mile back,” Shujaa said, pushing aside a branch and ducking under it. “Admah’s been leading us roughly parallel to the road for hours. If you’re right, he started us much farther away than he needed to.”
