Hunting in Hell (15 page)

Did the Angel not want her to remember everything?
 
Why not?

Indeed, by her estimations, she had just enough of her past to make her angry, without giving her any answers.
 

With the same hunter's instinct that had aided her in her kill of the lamprey, she placed her rage and her desire to exact revenge aside.
 
She needed more information.

I'm going to have to act like everything is the same and watch these guys.
 
She didn't know which one was the enemy the Angel had referred to, and both of them were clearly hiding something.
 
Laufeyson had lied about being her lover, and the Mademoiselle had been gone for almost a full day now, without any clear explanation.

De la Roca and Laufeyson were putting out the fire when the Mademoiselle returned.
 
Lines were etched in her face, and shadows bloomed under her eyes like dark hothouse roses.
 
Strangely, although her body showed clear signs of needing rest, her eyes glittered with a strange light.

As soon as she was within speaking distance, she asked, "De la Roca, do you remember the last demon at all?"

"No."

Alsvior whinnied shrilly then, rearing up and stamping his front legs down hard.
 
The Mademoiselle's face brightened, her smile melting away the weariness that had been etched there.

"You remember, don't you, Alsvior?"

The horse nodded.
 
De la Roca surged with pride, but she pretended to be amazed at the horse's sentience.
  
"It understands speech?"

The Mademoiselle fixed her with a hard look.
 
"
He
does.
 
If he had merely the right tongue, he would speak as easily as any one of us, but his punishment was not so lenient."
 
She stroked his neck and he nuzzled her chest, a gesture that made the outside edges of De la Roca's brain tickle inside of her skull.
 
His punishment?

The Mademoiselle let her fingers trail over his nose.
 
"You were burnt when you returned, I remember that.
 
Alsvior, was there a fire?"

He held his head sideways, as if thinking.

"Alright, so that's a so-so?"
 

The horse nodded and whickered.

"Did it take a human form?"

He shook his head.

"An animal, perhaps?"

He nodded.

They continued on like this, a series of yes-or-no questions that seemed to go on interminably.
 
Out of the corner of her eye, De la Roca noticed Laufeyson.
 
He was sitting at the edge of the extinguished fire and watched the
 
interactions carefully.
 
It was clear from the expression on his face that he found the story fascinating.
 
And why might that be, I wonder?
 
His green eyes were stormy, troubled, and there was the briefest hint of confusion on his chiseled features.

Something amiss?
 
Serves him right, whatever it is.

* * *

Laufeyson waited for what seemed like forever.
 
Eventually, the Mademoiselle held up her hand.
 
"I think we will stop here.
 
I doubt I will be able to gather anything else.
 
So, to summarize, the demon was large, a bird, and possessed the capability of fire.
 
It was beautiful, and it did not speak.
 
At least, not out loud, though we cannot rule out the possibility that it spoke directly to you."
 
She waved at De la Roca.

"Given the fact that it was powerful enough to either manifest or take over a pocket to hide in—and the size of that world, I think we can assume it that this matter is much more serious than we originally thought.
 
I am sure that the demon De la Roca met was the brother Muninn."

An alarm bell went off in his head.
 
Muninn?
 
That was not a part of the plan.
 
"Are you sure?"
 
He glanced at De la Roca, but her face was blank.
 

"Well, it definitely makes sense.
 
The Eye of Muninn is rumored to manipulate memories, adding, changing, and erasing them as the demon sees fit.
 
His brother, Thyrsus, has a similar ability, although he works more in madness.
 

"If De la Roca touched one of the Eyes of Muninn while in combat, it would have destroyed the
kevra
stone that was currently inside of her.
 
Losing the Eye of Muninn, after already initiating the link, could easily affect the flow of her memories.
 

"We should be careful though—a mind recently erased is most impressionable.
 
Although, on second thought, I would guess that you already knew that."
 
She gave him a razor-sharp glare, and his stomach flopped.
 
And what do you know, I wonder?

"So I touched one of his eyes?" De la Roca seemed confused by the flood of information.

"Yes.
 
Although it still strikes me as strange, because they were not found anywhere near you."
 
The Mademoiselle gave him another glance.

He blinked rapidly.
 
One of his eyes—
he had searched the area carefully, but he had not seen a second stone.
 
Of course, he had not been looking for it.

Do I have the wrong stone, then?
 
What if it is useless?

"Thyrsus," said De la Roca, an odd note to her voice.
 
The air was suddenly filled with the scent of flowers and the sweet notes of citrus.

"I think you know what happens next," said the Mademoiselle.

"We seek out Thyrsus," said De la Roca.
 
"If his stone works the same, I might be able to remember who I am."

"Absolutely not!"
 
Laufeyson jumped up with the exclamation, kicking sand upon the ashes of the fire.
 
"It's too dangerous!"
It isn't part of the plan!
 
There is no time for an extra hunt.
 
And what if she is killed?

The Mademoiselle gave him an unwavering stare, and he suddenly had the feeling that she could see through his flesh, his bones, down to the very spirit of his
kevra
.
 
Disconcerted, he nonetheless returned it the best he could, but when she looked away, he was overcome with the feeling that he had lost somehow.

"I agree with De la Roca.
 
It may be the only way for her to recover her memories." She pursed her lips, the expression cryptic.

"And if she dies?" Laufeyson couldn't help the snarl.

The Mademoiselle gave a flippant shrug.
 
"It is her choice."

"Damn straight."
 
De la Roca stood.
 
"I'm going."
 
She unholstered her guns and examined them before sticking them back to her sides.
 
"So, Mademoiselle, where do we start?

* * *

The journey back to the Cantina was not a difficult one.
 
They progressed mostly in silence, the Mademoiselle in the lead, with De la Roca tight on her heels.

Laufeyson hung back slightly, threading through his thoughts.
 
The situation had spun completely out of control, but
how?
 
The second demon should have been a younger one, and certainly not Muninn.
 
His orders had been clear.
 
He had created that realm, the small pocket of plane through the Phoenix Well himself
.
 
Had they been found out?
 
Was Muninn been a trap, placed in that realm by Golden's minions?
 

If so, how had she survived?
 
Did I underestimate her?
 
Muninn was older, perhaps, than the earth they stood on—older even, than his brother Thyrsus.
 
Even with the aid of
Bluot
, there was no way that De la Roca should have been able to kill him, yet Alsvior had dragged her through the well relatively unscathed.

There was some other process at work here, and he didn't like it.
 

By the time they reached Pico, the dirt clinging to them and the stink of horse-sweat staining the air, he had not reached any answers.
 
The many cigarettes he had manifested during the ride did nothing to calm the circles of his raging mind.
 

They dismounted, and the two women began an animated conversation regarding supplies.
  
The temperature had started to fall, and a smattering of clouds was gathering in the sky.
 
He tried to eavesdrop on their hushed whispers, but the Mademoiselle was cloaking them somehow.
 
Occasionally, De la Roca would glance back at him, and he felt his apprehension growing.
 
Soon, the two women walked into the Cantina, leaving the horses by the door.

He waited for as long as he felt was prudent, and then as stealthy as any cat, he strolled over and peeked in the door.
 
The first drops of rain had already begun to fall.
 
Alsvior was watching him intently.
 
Startled, Laufeyson felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Something was wrong here, something important.
 

It was dark in the Cantina, the clouds blocking out the sunlight, the electric lights still off.
 
Still, he could see fairly well, and this much was clear—De la Roca and the Mademoiselle were gone.

He dashed inside, alarm bells ringing in his head.
 
Suddenly, there was a
whoosh
, as if the air in the room had become pressurized.
 
Lightening flashed, flooding the room with brightness.

His heart sank.
 
This isn't the Cantina.
 
It was a good façade, true, but the edges were too crude, the fiction lacking and threadbare in places.
 

He sat down and flicked his fingers to manifest a cigarette, but one did not appear.

Damn
.

Sixteen

"
I
fell asleep thinking that he had been my lover, but then I dreamed about the Angel.
 
When I awoke, it was as if his seed has been uprooted.
 
My memories were recovered, at least partially."
 
She stared at the ground, her expression heavy.
 
"I suspected that you had stolen the other stone, at first.
 
That was incorrect."

The Mademoiselle nodded sagely.
 
If she was offended by the implication or the lack of apology, she did not show it.
 
"I thought Laufeyson might try something, though never something as drastic as this."

"But why?"
 
Her torrential frustration threatened to overcome her.
 
How much longer will I be kept in the dark?
 
Forever?

"I don’t know."
 
The Mademoiselle was quiet, almost contemplative.
 
"I have not returned to Hell for many years.
 
All I can tell you is that there are strange forces at work, and I doubt any of them have your best interests at heart."