CHAPTER FIVE
hell
The cold sank into Lucian’s bones as he entered Hell and closed the Gate. The Possessors slammed against his consciousness. Cheated of their opportunity in Woerld, they sought entry into his mind. He drove them off as he would gnats and surveyed Hell’s landscape. Steel would be useless here so he slipped the strap of Matthew’s sword over his shoulder to free his left hand.
He noted with some dread an open pit behind him. He had no way of knowing the hole’s depth, nor did he hazard a guess as to what might lie in wait at the bottom. He had no desire to find out.
Light flashed overhead and he glimpsed the girl running toward him, her blind stare glazed with fear. As fast as she was moving, she wouldn’t be long in reaching him. There had to be a way to stop her without injuring her. His dark clothing shadowed him in the twilight and calling out might startle her into changing direction. If she switched course, he’d never catch her.
A minor tremor shook the ground, and Lucian glanced over his shoulder. Dust and gravel rolled into the pit. The vibration ceased almost as soon as it began.
When Lucian turned again, the girl was upon him. He barely had time to throw his arm around her waist as she shot past. With her shriek in his ear, he caught the pivot on his good leg and they spun. The speed of her forward motion caused them to slide. He dug his cane deep into the loose grit, finding purchase at the last second to jerk them to a stop. Her feet hung over the emptiness of the hole. She must have realized her predicament, because rather than fight him, she clenched his arm in a death grip and whimpered.
Their hearts pounded in time with their panic as he maneuvered them by slow, steady inches away from the pit until he felt safe enough to set her down. The child trembled so violently her teeth chattered. She refused to release his arm. He knelt beside her and set his cane down so he could gently rub her back. Her fingers dug through his layers of sleeves to pinch his forearm.
Her eyes were glazed and he feared she would withdraw into herself to become catatonic. Without thinking, Lucian cupped the back of her head with his palm and lowered his head until their brows touched. He paused. What if by calming the girl, he caused her to become like Catarina, so that she relied on him to soothe her every anxiety?
Lucian pulled away from her. No. This child’s mind couldn’t comprehend what she’d seen. She needed help or she would be lost to the Katharoi forever. This was a necessary healing. He pressed his brow against hers and concentrated on her mind until he felt his soul connect with hers.
A jolt went through him, and he knew her name. Lindsay Richardson. The only other time he had felt like this was when John first touched him and he had immediately known John’s name. Lucian remembered how John had given him the knowledge necessary to communicate in Woerld through their initial contact. How he had bound their souls together and offered Lucian his love while shielding him from the harsher realities of Woerld.
Lucian couldn’t overwhelm the girl, but she needed to know Golanian and Ra’ananian in order to communicate with him. Nor could he open his heart and soul to her as a true Elder would. The Citadel Council would never allow an outcast such as him to be her Elder. For Lucian to bind their souls too closely at the beginning would only bring the child great pain later so he shielded his heart from her and didn’t offer her his love, only his protection.
In her terror, Lindsay didn’t try to shield her emotions from him, nor was she conscious of his presence in her mind. As he had so often done with Catarina, Lucian took Lindsay’s fear into his heart for his own. His heartbeat accelerated until he thought his chest would burst. Her anxiety coupled with his and almost disrupted his focus, but after several moments, he was able to dispel Lindsay’s fear from his soul.
When her fear dissipated, Lucian gave her the two languages of Woerld that he knew and guarded his thoughts from her. Then he gently withdrew from her mind and soul. The glassiness left the child’s sight, and though she still trembled, her teeth no longer chattered.
He returned his hand to her back and spoke to her in a soothing rumble, “You can let go now. It’s all right.” Just the same words over and over until she started to relax little by little.
It would take a few minutes before she would fully understand the languages he had given her. In every foundling’s beginning, comfort initially came with soft sounds and a gentle touch until the child found the words to communicate. Lucian stifled his impatience, swallowed his fear, and murmured to the distraught child one quiet lie after another. “Everything is going to be all right. You’re all right now.”
He used the time to examine her delicate features. Her long hair was the color of cornsilk and she wore it pulled back into a ponytail with a band that matched her purple sweater. Wisps of her bangs fell into almond shaped eyes that were the palest blue he’d ever seen.
Her shuddering eased and she loosened her grip on his arm but didn’t let go. She looked at him as if seeing him for the first time. Wonder replaced the wariness in her gaze. “I know your name.” She mixed Golanian with Ra’ananian, using words from both languages in a jumbled patois. He didn’t correct her; it would be a few hours before she would separate the two into distinct languages.
She clapped her hand over her mouth.
“It’s all right.” Lucian spoke to her using Ra’ananian. She needed to be proficient by the time they reached the Citadel, and he prayed she would never set foot in Golan. “It’s all right,” he said. “You know two new languages and my name.”
She nodded and moved her hand away from her lips.
“Good. That’s supposed to happen.” She would eventually lose her native language unless she met another foundling at the Citadel from her homeland on Earth. The only reason he and Catarina retained their knowledge of Walachian was because Catarina had insisted they use it between them as their private twin-speak. The memory of his sister reminded him of their danger. “Can you say my name?”
“Lucian.” She frowned.
After a moment of watching her struggle with his last name, he helped her. “Negru. You may call me Lucian.”
“Okay.” She released his arm and stepped back but not too far. “Lucian. Can you help me find Pete?”
“Who is Pete?”
“My brother.”
“Was he with you when you saw the Veil?”
“Yeah,” she whispered. She bit her quivering lower lip and took a long shuddering breath before she continued. “We got separated when we were coming through the Veil.” Unable to stop her tears, she used her palms to wipe them away and only succeeded in smearing ashes across her cheeks.
Lucian didn’t interrupt her as she recounted her adventure through the Veil. He gauged her reactions and though she was still upset, she could function. Relieved he’d done the right thing by alleviating her terror, he relaxed somewhat.
He promised himself that would be the last time he would take her emotions from her. From this point forward, Lindsay would have to learn to deal with Woerld’s shocks on her own. He wouldn’t cripple this child as he had his sister.
Lindsay’s voice disrupted his thoughts. “Pete got pulled one way and I went another and he said to run, but I didn’t know how, because everything was moving really fast. This doesn’t make any sense, does it?”
“It makes perfect sense. You saw a red glow and it grew, and somehow, you knew it was called the Crimson Veil.”
“That’s right.” She tilted her head to scrutinize him and her left eye narrowed. “That’s exactly what happened. I saw you sleeping. Did you see me?”
He shook his head. “I heard you scream. Where were you and Pete separated? Inside the Veil or here?”
“Inside.”
Lucian felt better knowing there wasn’t another foundling wandering Hell’s landscape. “Then he was drawn to another Elder, that’s all. We’ll go back to Woerld and we’ll find your brother.”
She looked over her shoulder to the line of the damned that shuffled deeper into the
shadows then back to him. “My mom said I’m never supposed to go anywhere with strangers. I really just need to find Pete. That’s all. Just help me find Pete, and he’ll take care of me.” Her anxiety grew with every word.
“Your mother is correct: you shouldn’t trust everyone,” he said. “You said you saw me sleeping. What did you feel when you saw me?”
She stared at the ground and pressed her fingertips to her lips. Precious minutes passed before she answered. “I wanted to come to you, because I felt like we belonged together.” She looked up at him. “I knew you’d know what to do. That doesn’t make any sense, does it?”
“Yes, it does. When you looked into my eyes just now what did you see?”
“That you want to help me.” Yet her caution didn’t dissipate.
“That’s how I felt when I saw my Elder. I knew John would keep me safe even though I didn’t understand what was happening to me. If you’ll allow me, I’ll keep you safe until we find your brother.” He stood clumsily and held his hand out to her.
Her eyes followed his every move, and now she assessed him in much the same manner as he’d examined her earlier. It was evident she still wasn’t comfortable with the situation and he could hardly blame her. His ragged appearance couldn’t be very reassuring, and she had no guarantee he was taking her to a better place, much less to her brother. Lucian sighed but didn’t give up. “We’ll find Pete, Lindsay, if you will just trust me for a little while.” Lucian forced himself to be patient while she scanned the landscape.
“Okay,” she said. “But you better be what you say you are. My brother is going to be looking for me. He’s big, you know. He plays football.” She crossed her arms and thrust her chin at him defiantly.
Lucian raised an eyebrow at her, but his retort was cut off by a jaunty tune that tingled in the air. He had quite forgotten the cell phone until it started to ring, bringing hope to Lindsay’s eyes.
“Peter! That’s Pete’s ring tone! Where’s my phone?” Her defiance left her and she quivered in anticipation of something familiar, some rational event in this surreal world.
He reached into his pocket for the device. “Lindsay, think about what you are doing. Think. What’s making your phone ring?”
Her anticipation died and her lips parted, but she made no sound.
“I’m going to answer and if it’s Pete, I’ll hand it to you.”
“Okay, but do it quick before it goes to voicemail.”
He flipped the device open and the voice on the other end opened his heart.
“Lucian.” It was Rachael. He thought of smoke and honey and the memory of a summer night when she pressed her lips against his ear to moan his name.
He shook his head. The hope in Lindsay’s eyes died and her shoulders slumped.
He turned so the child wouldn’t see his face. “Rachael,” he said before his shame choked him silent.
The static screeched between them, then her next words rang through loud and clear. “I’m coming for you, Lucian.” Yet where he expected her magnificent rage, she sounded cautious, as if reassessing her position.
That slight hesitation on her part was all he needed to feed his hope. Perhaps his chance to make restitution to her wasn’t as slim as he first thought. Rachael Boucher was never easily parted from her hate, but her doubts could work as his key to her heart. Everything he wanted to say to her scattered before his panicked thoughts. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered.
She didn’t hear him, or if she did, she ignored the feeble apology. “I have a directive from the Seraph that you are to surrender yourself to my authority.”
“I will.”
“What did you say?”
“I will surrender myself to your authority,” he said more clearly. Lindsay edged into his line of vision; she mouthed her brother’s name. Lucian put his finger to his lips. She crossed her thin arms over her chest, thrust her hip out, and frowned at him. He didn’t have time to address the girl’s frustration before Rachael spoke again.
“Where were you in the Wasteland before you opened the Gate?” she asked.
Acutely aware that in Hell he was on his sister’s undisputed territory, he tried to think of a way to let Rachael know his route. Three days ago, he had passed a sign that had not been consumed by rot; although the letters were faded, he had made out the name of the destroyed city: Ierusal. When they were young, Rachael had called Ierusal the Forbidden City because John forbade them from patrolling north of the town.
“A few days northwest of the Forbidden City. We should reach it before you. We’ll wait for you there.”
She was silent for so long, he thought they had lost the connection. After an interminable wait, she asked, “Where?”
“Where you always knew to find me when I was troubled.” Where you always came to me when I needed you the most.
“I know the place.”
Keenly aware that if the Citadel already had a Judge moving because of his manipulation of the Gate, it must be later in the day than he thought. “Rachael, the time. What time is it?”
“Just after noon.”
“Merciful God.” The time had slipped, moving faster in Woerld than in Hell. He’d lost five hours from Woerld in the hour he’d been in Hell, and his sister’s guards knew his location.
Her patience gone, Lindsay grabbed for the phone. “Ask about Peter!”
Lucian lifted his arm so she couldn’t snatch the device from his hand. White noise distorted the connection. When the reception cleared, he heard someone speaking behind Rachael. Of course, she would have a constable with her; they always investigated in pairs.
Uncertain how much longer the connection would last, he spoke quickly, “There is a foundling here. Her name is Lindsay. Her brother came through the Veil with her. His name—”
“Peter.” Feedback squealed through the earpiece. “I’m sorry.” He heard her grief in those two words and wanted to reach out to her sadness, ease her pain. The static roared between them like a feral wind. He thought he heard her say something about jackals then the line went dead.
He dropped the phone to the dirt.
“Has she seen him?” Lindsay snatched the phone up before he could destroy it. She flipped it open and stared at the blank screen.
“Yes, but he may be hurt. She said she was sorry.” If there were jackals involved, he feared the boy dead. Yet this was neither the time nor the place to guide the child through grief. An obscene rumble shuddered through the ground, and Lucian turned to look at the pit behind them. Large chunks of gravel rattled to the edge of the hole and fell into the cavity.
“Lindsay, we have got to go. Now.” He returned his attention to her. “And you’re going to have to leave the phone behind.”
She ignored him and punched the buttons savagely, trying to make the phone work. Her lip quivered. A fat, pallid spider crawled through the display, and Lindsay flung the phone down like it was on fire. “Gross! What did you do to it?”
“It doesn’t work anymore.” He brought his cane down on the phone, shattering it and killing the spider. “The Veil has closed, and your phone is merely a doorway for the damned.”
From the direction of the pit, a high-pitched keening rent the air, and the girl’s eyes widened. “What’s that noise?”
Lucian had no idea. Despite his experience, he didn’t know all the horrors Hell contained nor was he in any mood to further his education. “We have to go. Are you coming with me?” He held out his hand.
The phone forgotten, she ran to him. “Don’t leave me!”
He remembered Rachael’s panic when he’d abandoned her at the Gate so long ago. She’d screamed his name and he’d left her anyway. Never again. Lucian put his arm around Lindsay and waited until she grabbed his forearm. “I won’t. I won’t leave you. Close your eyes.”
Light flashed overhead and for one nightmare instant, he saw a tentacle shoot upward from the pit. He focused his mind on the Psalm and started his chant. Hell’s landscape danced in h
is retinas. The threads of time frayed the landscape before them like a worn tapestry. For a split second, the two worlds overlapped with Lucian’s encampment in Woerld shining through Hell’s barren landscape. As he finished the Psalm, Hell gave way in a blaze of light to allow them to pass through the Gate into Woerld.
Although the overcast sky clouded the hour, he was sure that Rachael’s calculation of noon wasn’t far from the mark. Their packs were undisturbed. Catarina’s guards may not have felt the surge of his magic when he opened the Gate. If they did, they were too far away to respond immediately.
Lindsay snatched her bag off the ground and rummaged through the contents. After a thorough inspection, she seemed satisfied that her possessions were undisturbed.
“Put your coat on,” he said.
She fished her coat out of her bag. “Jeez, can you do that anytime you want to?”
“Do what?”
She waved her hand. “You know—that whoosh-thing you just did.”
The Gate. She wanted to know about the Gate. “No. I’ll explain how that works later.”
“Is Pete around here?”
He shook his head. “This is the Wasteland. Peter is farther south at the Citadel with Rachael.” He helped her into her deep green coat and noted with some relief that her pants and shoes appeared sturdy enough for the terrain. At least he didn’t have to worry about clothing for her. He shouldered his pack. “Now, listen: we must go very quietly. There are some bad people here, and we must be careful to avoid them.”
A horse nickered in the distance. He held his finger over his lips. She tried to peer around him and started to ask another question. He put his hand over her mouth and her eyes went wide.
“Hush and listen,” he whispered.
She tensed against him and nodded. He released her.
The woods and hills sheltered them and their enemy from one another’s sight. Though Lucian saw no one, he heard the jingle of tack. This was no haunting.
“You’ve got to hide.” He gestured for her to follow him and when she lingered by the road, he grabbed her wrist.
Miserere: An Autumn Tale Page 7
