Mona Lisa Blossoming m-2 Page 18

  Halcyon smiled slightly. "I am the High Prince of Hell. I do not have friends. But, yes, there are those who will aide me if I can call them."

  "Can you not send down a message to have them waiting for you when you arrive?"

  "That is a good suggestion, Chami," Halcyon said kindly. "But I do not have any way of doing that other than to return myself. Nor could I delay going back even if I did."

  "Why can you not delay?" Gryphon asked.

  "I will just get weaker. Mayhap become even too weak to make the journey."

  A sobering thought.

  "I have to go with him." I was growing desperate, because if I stood here arguing much longer, I might just collapse, and then none of them, Halcyon included, would let me go. "I'm his only chance."

  Sad because it was true. Sad because it meant our chances of surviving this were not good.

  "We have to try," I said. "It will be bad for us all if Halcyon dies. Not just us but for all Monère."

  Surprisingly, it was Tomas, good loyal Tomas with his plain face and simple, true heart, who finally spoke with the voice of reason. "Mona Lisa is right. I do not wish to lose her either… but milady is right. They have to go now. Further delay will only worsen their plight, and in the end, ours as well."

  A heavy silence.

  "If you must go," Aquila said, "then, at the very least, you both must first change so that you do not arrive smelling of blood, smelling like prey."

  "That makes sense. What?" I muttered as they all looked at me. "I'm always willing to listen to reason when I can."

  Aquila and Gerald, the two drivers—the only two not bloodied or smelling of blood—ended up giving us their clothes. They stripped down before us, comfortable in their nakedness. I seemed the only self-conscious one, the only one averting my gaze. Chami left and miraculously returned with a bottle of water that I didn't know how he had procured but was very thankful for. I took a drink, and saved the remainder to wash us down with.

  "Okay," I said, my hand going to the button of my jeans. "Everyone turn around."

  "A modest Queen?" Dontaine said with surprise.

  "She is not like other Queens," Gryphon and Amber said together, their faces grim.

  I grinned at them, immensely pleased. "You guys are learning." I circled my finger. "Your backs, guys."

  "A pity," Dontaine muttered, turning around.

  "Yes," agreed Chami with a wry smile, but he also presented his back and the others followed.

  Propping Halcyon against the wall, I stripped down to my underwear, washed the blood off of me with my water dampened T-shirt, and quickly dressed in Gerald's clothes, the slenderer of the two. When I was done, I hesitantly reached for Halcyon's pants.

  "I can do it," Halcyon said softly, loosening and pushing down his pants. No underwear. It must be a Monère guy thing that carried over even when you became demon dead.

  I watched Halcyon from the corner of my eye to make sure he didn't fall on his face. But had to turn and look at Halcyon fully in order to wash him. Except for his injuries, his body was as I had seen it in that vision or dream or whatever it had been. A sleek, strong build with nice shoulders, trim waist, slender hips, powerful thighs, and a rising erection at half-mast. The latter made heat rise in my face.

  You could have said he was injured but not dead. But that wasn't true. He was dead. His heart didn't beat, his lungs did not take in air. And yet… he wasn't really dead as humans defined it. He still… existed, would be the best word. And I was going to try my damn best to see that he continued to exist.

  Halcyon, gentleman that he was, said and did nothing to worsen my discomfort. He stayed still and quiet as I found a clean spot on my T-shirt, dampened it, and used it to lightly scrub the bite mark on his neck. I started from the top and worked my way down, pouring water directly onto his chest wounds and patting the slivers of raw meat gently dry. He didn't make a sound, even though it must have pained him. Didn't say anything, mindful of nearby ears. But his face was soft, his eyes warm, his expression tender as he watched me minister to him. When I was done, after I'd helped him step into Aquila's clean clothes, he brought my hand to his lips and kissed it gently. No one did it as naturally, as gracefully as Halcyon accomplished the gesture, like something sweet and natural. But then he'd had over six hundred years of practice.

  My shoulder throbbed like a bitch, leading to the twenty-thousand-dollar question: Where was a healer when you needed one? Ding, ding, ding. The answer: Back home, protected like the prized resource she was. But, hey, at least I could use my arm.

  The men came up to me, one by one, offering their treasures. Amber gave me his great sword, his precious baby, his faithful companion for over a hundred years. The gesture touched me. How could it not? But his sword was too big for me to heft, too awkward to swing with my injured arm. I ended up taking Tomas's shorter, more manageable sword, and Aquila's curved hunting knife, its silver blade almost a foot long; big enough to take off a head if I needed to, a nice backup for the sword.

  There was only one way to kill the demon dead that I knew of. Hack them to pieces. And even then they didn't die. Of course, that was assuming I'd get to them first before I, myself, was hacked to pieces by them. And, come to think of it, they didn't even need to hack. Just tear me apart, limb by limb. They were strong enough to do it.

  I felt like a kid being sent off to summer camp. You know, one of those sleepaway thingies, parents all teary-eyed, the kid all clingy. I'd never been away on one, but every kid watched television. Only the tone was much more somber, funereal even; they weren't expecting me back. I was going to try to surprise them.

  I hugged Amber, felt his big arms engulf me, surrounding me all too briefly in warmth and safety. Being held by him always felt like home.

  Gryphon, my heart, gave me a gentle kiss, so at odds with his terribly tormented eyes. "Come back to me," he whispered.

  "I will try. With everything that is within me," I promised.

  Chami, Aquila, and Tomas—my people, all so dear to me. I hugged them, kissed their cheeks, gave them a wavering smile. Even managed to ignore Aquila's nudity. The trick, I found, was pretending that he wasn't naked.

  Tears threatened and I blinked them back. "Watch over the others for me until I return."

  They bowed, said as one, "Yes, my Queen."

  I saw in Chami's eyes his personal promise to me to protect Thaddeus.

  My eyes softened as Dontaine stepped forward last. "Dontaine, it makes me so happy to know that I chose the right man for the job." I squeezed his hand softly and smiled warmly up into his beautiful green eyes. "Thank you for not disappointing me."

  "You are a Queen worthy to serve." He bowed and stepped back.

  I sought out Gerald and Miguel next. "Thank you for your aid this night and for caring for your Queen so well. Please communicate to Mona Carlisse my deep gratitude."

  Miguel dipped his head.

  Gerald gave a courtly bow, executed as gracefully as if he were fully clothed.

  Goodbyes were said. Enough time had passed for eulogies to have already been written are recited. Morbid thought.

  I took a deep breath and turned to Halcyon. "Shall we?"

  The Demon Prince nodded. Together we hobbled toward the wall of mist, arms around each other. My knife was clutched in the hand wrapped around Halcyon's waist, and the sword gripped by my right one.

  I stepped into that nasty white fuzz quickly. It was like pulling off a Band-Aid. Some people did it slowly, stretching out the hurt. I preferred ripping it off in one bold tear. Same thing with this portal. If I were alone, I wouldn't have entered it so eagerly; they'd have had to drag me into it. But I had an audience, people I wanted to spare. I didn't want to start screaming horribly like I was being torn apart while they were still watching. A lousy last impression, you know.

  It sucked us in, swallowed us up, and started stinging like a fucking son of a bitch. White stabs of agony, lancing jolts of pain, like I was being zapped by s
omething with more juice than Chernobyl and its twin sister. It was a terrible punishing force.

  Then we were falling. And I was screaming and screaming.

  Chapter Fifteen

  That gut-puking, nauseating pain miraculously stopped halfway down and I knew that Halcyon was somehow insulating me from it. Let me tell you something: The absence of pain is a wonderful thing. And let me tell you another thing: People were wrong. Hell wasn't what waited for you. It was the trip down. Once you got there, it wasn't really that bad.

  Then we hit the ground with a jarring crash and I had to revise my opinion. The good news was that I hadn't accidentally stabbed either Halcyon or myself in that teeth-rattling landing. Jesus Christ, I hoped touchdown wasn't like this all the time or I wasn't coming down here again. No, sirree. The bad news was that my right arm was numbed by agony for a moment. Yeah, numbed. When white-hot pain rips through your shoulder and bursts out like an exploding supernova through the rest of the body, you don't feel anything but the pain. It becomes so great that your nerve endings shut down and stop transmitting, sort of like a throwing a breaker switch.

  I couldn't tell if I'd dropped my sword or not. I looked down and realized that I still held it in my right hand, even though I couldn't feel myself gripping it. But okay, sword in one hand, numb or not, knife in the other. We were good to go. And as soon as I got my breath back, I'd get us to our feet. In a moment, or two, or three.

  The thing you noticed about Hell, other than the pain—but that was internal, my own injuries, my fault, you know, not Hell's—was the heat. Dry heat, almost smothering, like in the desert. The next thing that you noticed was the odd, muted lighting. It was forever twilight down in this other realm. And muted was another good description. There were no sounds, other than my heart that seemed to beat as loudly as a dinner bell, and my harsh breathing, the rush of air in and out of my body. The sounds of life. There were no other sounds of life but for my little loud self. In the deafening silence, I could hear the rush of my blood, the pumping of my heart spurting that rich red liquid into my arteries, pushing it through my veins. Even my pale white skin glowed like a neon "come and eat me" sign.

  And come they did. Various faces emerged out of the twilight darkness, all in shades of brown, from light tan to dark brown. Male and female. I felt like a Pale Face surrounded by Apaches about to be scalped. Only these were demon dead. They were going to do far worse than scalp me. Fangs emerged, saliva glistened, dark eyes gleamed, light eyes glittered. I could feel their unthinking hunger for my tender, living flesh like a beating presence, could almost taste their dry thirst for my fresh red blood.

  "Uh, Halcyon." With great effort, motivated by a strong survival instinct, I got us both to our feet. To say Halcyon didn't look too good was a vast understatement. His head lolled against my shoulder and his eyes were closed, as if the trip down had worn him out. As if he'd used up all his energy to shield me from the pain. A heroic gesture, that, but I'd have rather taken the pain and had him a little fresher and stronger while meeting his subjects. They didn't look too loyal at the moment. Just hungry. Hungry enough to tear me apart, gulp me down, and then start on him afterward for dessert.

  We were in the middle of nowhere. Nowhere to hide. Nowhere to run.

  "Halcyon." I shook him a little.

  Halcyon roused, opened his eyes finally. Blinked them, looked around.

  "See any friends or anyone likely to give us a hand instead of take it?" I asked.

  Halcyon didn't bother answering me. The answer was obvious. Anyone wanting to help us would have stepped forward by now. Instead they were creeping forward slowly, sniffing as if scenting the delicious aroma of fresh blood, their saliva dripping, circling around us like jackals, gathering for the kill.

  The High Prince of Hell threw back his head and released a blood-curdling howl that lifted to the nightfall sky, outward and beyond. A calling, a beckoning that was answered by a fierce, joyous baying in the distance that rose on the hot wind like an utterly anomalous sound, inhuman. Howls that crawled over my skin and creeped out my flesh. That made me want to run far, far away.

  I wasn't the only one. The faces surrounding us turned as one toward the eerily triumph cries, then slipped away, disappearing like dark sand shadows, leaving us alone to face what was coming.

  "Uh, Halcyon, do you think calling the Hell hounds is a good idea?"

  "They are one of the few things the demon dead fear."

  "For good reason, no doubt. I don't know if facing them is any better than what just left us."

  "It cannot be any worse."

  My skin rippled in an involuntary shiver as the first big shadow appeared. "I happen to disagree. Uh, can you control them?"

  "We shall see." His answer was far from comforting. "When I call them, it is usually to feed."

  "It would have been nice if you hadn't told me that." My arm around Halcyon's waist became more clutching than supportive as more and more shadowy forms appeared. They had the eyes of night creatures, reflective, glowing. Cold eyes gleaming with frightening intelligence.

  They came forward and my first clear vision of them almost made my knees buckle. I firmed my wobbly joints urgently, desperately not wanting to be down on the ground when they reached us. Down on the ground would make us appear less master and more food in their eyes.

  Hounds was the wrong word for them. Hounds made you think of dogs. And let me tell you… these things were not dogs. They were giant beasts on four legs, their heads as tall as we were standing. The sheer size of them made the sword I held feel like a flimsy toy. They were death come calling, with a tail. But the tail was wagging back and forth, as big as a sturdy branch whoosing through the air. But it was wagging. The biggest creature, pure black like the complete absence of light, came forward and nudged Halcyon's outstretched hand.

  "Shadow," Halcyon murmured, petting that massive head. The great jaw yawned open in a happy grin, showing razor-sharp teeth and a long pink tongue. A pulse of power and Shadow was shrinking, growing smaller. Although smaller was a relative word: In this case meaning shoulder-high instead of head-high. He became an animal form more like the canine species he was named for. Black, sleek, still powerful. Still more than capable of ripping your throat out and swallowing you down in a few big gulps. Still frightening. But less… monstrous.

  More pulses of power like batteries discharging around us. Other transformations. There were over thirty of them, of all different colors and fur patterns. A solid gray Hell hound came forward, nudged Halcyon's other hand, snuffling me curiously.

  "This is Smoke, Shadow's mate."

  Halcyon deliberately lifted his arm around me and gazed into the eyes of the great Hell hounds before him. "This is Mona Lisa." He laid his golden hand against my pale face in a gentle claiming. "My mate."

  Their intelligent eyes studied me as if they understood what Halcyon had said. I let them sniff me, take in my scent, even when they snuffled my crotch. I'd washed but some scents you couldn't wash completely away. Their mouths opened up in gleeful doggy grins. I tensed, but they didn't take a chomp out of me. Shadow's long pink tongue swiped over the back of my hand—my right one holding the sword—and it felt like the roughest grade of sandpaper rubbing over me. I gave a startled yip, and his uncannily intelligent yellow eyes laughed up at me.

  "Shadow, stop playing with her," Halcyon scolded him affectionately, "and take me to my father's house."

  Father's house turned out to be quite a trek away. I walked. Halcyon rode… hunched over on Shadow's back, with his hands buried in the thick pelt of the hound's powerful neck. The midnight black beast was gentle, careful in his stride, as if he knew how weak his master was and how injured. But even so, pain carved deep grooves in Halcyon's face with each soft jostle.

  I seemed to have found a second wind. Maybe from almost being eaten twice, first by demon dead, then by the demon dead's version of a dog. My sheathed sword and combat knife jostled against my side as we passed thatch-roofed
huts built of wood, and ramshackle abodes constructed from rough-hewn stone. Hidden demon eyes peered out at us through the windows, but none ventured outside as the Hell hounds swelled the fairway, sweeping me along in their midst. The shelters disappeared and we traveled alone on an empty path for a stretch of time.

  Then the fairway widened and rose, leading to a rise upon which loomed a dark tower built of smoothly chiseled black rock, with twin spirals reaching mournfully for the twilight sky. Grand it might be, but it seemed empty, full of gloom, as if no life stirred within its stony interior. Like a giant, elaborate mausoleum or an avoided monument.

  And yet, life, it seemed, did reside here. The metal doors, black like the color of demon chains, creaked open to frame a demon dead male of imposing height though lean of build who wore a neat white shirt, waistcoat, and—can you believe this? — a duck-tailed jacket. All spruced up with nowhere to go. The odd thought that the attire had to be tailor-made flitted through my mind before the man strode down like a lurching tree, fearlessly wading into the pack of Hell hounds toward Halcyon. The action jerked me out of my reverie. I didn't know who he was, only that he wasn't Halcyon's father. I sprung in front of Halcyon and drew my sword.

  "Don't come any closer," I said, baring my teeth in warning.

  " 'S okay. Winston. Dad's butler," Halcyon slurred.

  "A butler named Winston. Down in Hell?"

  The big man eyed me imperturbably. "No odder than a Monère Queen down in Hell named…"

  "Mona Lisa," Halcyon supplied.

  The thin, severe mouth didn't even twitch, but some spark of humor leaped into Winston's mirror-dark eyes. "Mona Lisa," he repeated blandly. "Like the painting."

  I bristled. He was the first one to reference it… a demon dead butler, at that. "What of it?" I challenged.

  His eyes laughed at me, quite a feat to accomplish without moving a muscle in his stiff face. He simply brushed by me, ignoring my sword, giving me his damn back—hmmph! — as if I were no threat to him. But his long arms were gentle as he picked up Halcyon, cradling him against his lean chest.