Hellhound (A Deadtown Novel) (22 page)

“SHE PROBABLY WENT HOME BEFORE THE SUN ROSE,” I SAID to Mab as we approached the checkpoint. It was at least the third time I’d made the assertion. “We told her not to disturb us. She must have actually listened for once.”

“We’d better make sure she arrived home safely,” Mab replied. “It would set my mind at ease.”

Mine, too.

Getting through the first checkpoint wasted precious time. The human guard took an excessive interest in Hellforged. Despite the half-inch-thick sheaf of official approval forms I carried, the guard wouldn’t let us through until several phone calls had been made and returned. When he was assured for the fourth time that everything was legit, he seemed disappointed, telling us that yes, we could go through and take the dagger with us in exactly the same tone I’d imagine he’d use to tell his wife yes, she could take a younger, sexier lover.

The zombie guard at the second checkpoint presented no such problem. He didn’t seem to care who or what entered Deadtown.

Tina lived in a group home with several other young zombies. It was in the opposite direction from my building, but the detour would take us only a few blocks out of our way. I was as anxious as Mab to know that Tina was safe in her bed. It would let me sleep better in mine.

Day or night, there was always a house mother on duty at the group home’s reception desk. This morning’s attendant looked up as we entered. She was plump, with wire-rimmed glasses and her hair pulled back into a bun. Before the plague, her cheeks must have been rosy, her blue eyes full of twinkles. I always thought of her as a kind of zombie Mrs. Butterworth.

“Good morning, dear,” she said, repeating the greeting when I introduced Mab. “I’m afraid we don’t allow visitors after sunrise. Except in case of emergency, of course.” Her pleasant smile didn’t falter. “Is it an emergency?”

“I hope not. We’re checking to make sure Tina got home okay.”

“She didn’t come in while I was on the desk, but I’ve only been here for half an hour. I’ll check the book.” She opened a red ring-binder that lay at her elbow. Twirling a stray tendril of hair around one index finger, she ran the other down the page. She shook her head and turned back a page. “Here’s where she signed out last night. But she never signed in again.” She flipped back to where she’d started. “No . . . no, there’s no sign-in time.” She closed the book and smiled at us. “Of course, this
is
Tina we’re talking about. She’s something of a free spirit.”

I’d have laughed at the understatement if I weren’t so worried. “She doesn’t always sign in?”

“I’d say we’re lucky if she remembers . . . oh, half the time. Of course, often the house mother on duty will sign in for her. We’re not supposed to do that, but really, the point is knowing where the children are, not getting them to practice their signature.”

Except Tina would bristle at being called a “child”—and we had no idea where she was.

“Is it possible to check her room?” Mab asked.

The house mother consulted the watch that squeezed her plump wrist. “It’s a little late,” she said dubiously. “Lights-out was ten minutes ago.”

“That’s not so very long. She probably isn’t asleep yet. Even if she is, now would be a good time to remind her of the importance of signing in.”

The house mother’s pleasant smile turned crafty. “It would, wouldn’t it? If Tina wants her beauty sleep, she can make an effort to follow the rules.” She picked up a telephone and pressed a button. “In-house intercom,” she commented as we waited. She tapped a finger on the desk, then shook her head. “No answer. Either she’s fast asleep or she’s not in her room. Sometimes she doesn’t return all day.” She put down the phone, then spread her hands. “With Tina, what can you do?”

WHAT
COULD
WE DO, I WONDERED, AS MAB AND I WALKED through the empty streets toward my building. Debris from the previous night’s rally littered the ground. I stepped over a bent sign with a broken stick; it read W
HAT
P
ART OF
HUMAN D
ON’T
Y
OU
U
NDERSTAND
?

“Wait,” I said, stopping in my tracks. “I’ve got the cell phone Daniel gave me. We can call her.”

“But the house mother tried that, child.”

“That was an intercom. She didn’t call Tina’s cell phone. Tina never goes anywhere without that thing. She probably sleeps with it on her pillow.”

Mab watched as I pressed random buttons on the phone, trying to remember how to bring up the contact list. Mab didn’t even have an old-fashioned, rotary-dial landline in her house. She didn’t see the need, although there had been plenty of times when I’d tried to convince her it would be useful to call her—not use the dream phone, not leave a message at the village pub. To Mab, the contraption in my hand must’ve looked like something out of a science fiction movie.

To be honest, it felt a little like that to me, too. Cell phones had changed, a lot, since I gave up trying to carry one. Now, the contact list eluded me. I gave up looking for it and entered Tina’s number directly, a little surprised the phone let me do that.

Pick up,
I thought.
Answer the phone so I can stop worrying about you. I won’t even yell at you. Too much.

But my call went to voice mail. I left a brief message asking Tina to call me back. I followed up with a text message, my thumbs as awkward as tree trunks on the tiny keypad. The message looked like some kind of code:
R u ok?
She’d understand that, right? Abbreviations like that were part of the secret language kids use for texting.

I pictured Tina squinting at it and scratching her head—“
Ruok
? What’s that supposed to mean?”—then trashing the message without bothering to reply. After all, she didn’t know I had a cell phone and wouldn’t recognize the number.

I sent another text.
Thisis vikcy.
I realized my tongue was poking out the side of my mouth as I concentrated; I pulled it back in.
Aree yuo okay
Looking at the tiny letters on the screen, I was dismayed by the number of typos, but it was too hard to go back and fix them. Tina would understand. I hoped. At any rate, when we got home I’d call her from the number she’d recognize.

As I put my phone away, Mab commented that it certainly required a lot of time and effort for a device that was supposed to make life easier. I didn’t disagree.

AS I UNLOCKED THE DOOR TO MY APARTMENT, BY FORCE of habit I pressed my ear to the door, listening for Juliet’s TV. Silence. I hoped she hadn’t already retired to her coffin for the day. I really wanted an update on her search for the Old Ones. Wherever the Old Ones were, Pryce wouldn’t be far away.

But maybe I didn’t need an update. The door swung open to reveal Pryce himself sitting in my living room.

“Hello, cousin. Hello, auntie. Do come in.”

Pryce raised both hands, palms out, to show he wasn’t holding a weapon. That didn’t mean there wasn’t one concealed somewhere in his double-breasted black suit.

I gauged the distance to my weapons cabinet. Pryce was in the way. I’d never get past him, unlock the cabinet, and grab something deadly.

“Don’t stand there all day. I’m here to talk, not fight. And I believe what I have to say will be of interest to you both.”

Mab and I exchanged a look, but neither of us made a move to enter the apartment.

Pryce heaved a dramatic sigh and stood up. I tensed. If he attacked, I wouldn’t have time to extricate Hellforged from its sheath. But Mab was adept at magical fighting. If I distracted Pryce, she’d have enough time to summon a deadly ball of energy—

Pryce didn’t move toward us. He disappeared.

Into the demon plane.

Before Mab or I could say a word, he was back. Tina struggled in his grasp.

“Let
go
of me, douche bag!” she shouted. Twisting, she stomped on his instep. Pryce swore and punched her, hard, in the head. Tina cried out in pain. Her eyes found me. “Vicky, help!”

The two of them winked out.

Pryce was back in a moment, once again sitting in the chair. He looked perfectly at ease, legs crossed, hands folded on his stomach. “Now are you ready to talk?”

I stepped inside. Mab followed me and closed the door behind us. Pryce motioned toward the sofa, but we stood where we were.

“Let her go,” I said.

“Honestly, Pryce, this is low, even for you.” Mab stood rigid beside me. “A mere child.”

“Oh, dear. Such hypocrisy. As I recall, auntie, you attempted to kill me when I was ‘a mere child.’ And quite a bit younger than that creature.”

“It’s my greatest regret that I didn’t succeed.”

Pryce put his hands behind his head, elbows sticking out as he regarded us. “Neither of you has the slightest idea how to negotiate. I see this will take longer than I’d hoped.”

“There’s nothing to negotiate,” I said. “Let Tina go, or I’ll kill you.”

Pryce laughed. “See what I mean? That’s hardly impressive as an opening gambit. You’ve already tried to kill me nearly as many times as I’ve tried to kill you, and I’m stronger now than I’ve ever been. Sorry, cousin, but I can’t say I fancy your chances.”

“What do you want, Pryce?” Mab’s voice was tight, dangerous.

Pryce didn’t notice Mab’s tone—or maybe he didn’t care. “Ah, that’s better. You see, cousin, Auntie Mab realizes that I’m in a position of advantage, so she looks to me to start negotiations. That’s how the game works.” He leaned forward and held up his index finger. “First, stop destroying the Morfran. If you don’t, I’ll kill that horrid zombie you both seem so fond of.” He looked at Mab, then back at me. He laughed. “You think I can’t do it? I’ve already released a significant amount of the Morfran from that cemetery and transferred it elsewhere. It’s hungry. Unless you do as I say, I shall feed that Tina creature to it.”

The image of Tina, screaming and shaking and clutching her head as the Morfran prepared to blow her apart, invaded my mind. We had to get her back.

“Second”—Pryce raised another finger—“you will give me Hellforged.” He held out his hand, palm up, like he expected me to walk over and drop the dagger in it.

“No.”

Anger lit Pryce’s eyes. “The dagger is mine by right. The Cerddorion stole it from Uffern, many years ago. It is past time for its return.”

“I won’t.” If something happened to the white falcon—as it nearly had tonight—Hellforged was our only line of defense against the Morfran. Giving it to Pryce would be like handing him written permission to set the Morfran loose on the world.

Pryce’s eyes seemed to burn holes into mine as he stared at me. Then he laughed, showing his animal-like teeth, and sat back again. “All right,” he said, “I’ll allow you your illusion of power—for now. You’ll give me Hellforged, and gladly, soon enough.”

“You’ll get that dagger from me when I stick it deep into your black heart.”

Before Pryce could reply, Mab spoke. “You are too sure of yourself, Pryce. Your arrogance has led you astray before.”

“Arrogance? I don’t think so. In the past, my eagerness to see the ancient prophecies fulfilled may have made me a tad hasty. But I am greater now than I was then, you see. Now I have Difethwr’s strength, plus my father’s skill and knowledge, to support my ambition. And soon, I will have her as well.” His long white finger pointed at me. “Not that I need her, mind you, but think of the blow to your side when your Last Great Hope abandons you.”

“You’re insane,” I said.

“Thank you for the psychological analysis, cousin. But you’re diagnosing the wrong subject. Auntie is the one who refuses to accept reality.” He jutted his chin toward Mab. “She thinks you’re the long-awaited Lady of the Cerddorion. But it can’t be you. Difethwr made sure of that, by putting its mark on you.”

I tried to ignore the slow burning that began in my forearm.

“You can feel it, can’t you? The rage, the urge to destroy. Ever since I resurrected Difethwr, those feelings have become stronger. They’re taking you over, from the inside. And there’s nothing you can do about it.”

I can fight it,
I thought.
Like I’ve always fought it.

Pryce’s voice was suddenly at my ear, whispering, insinuating. “You wanted to fight Mab, didn’t you? You wanted it, just like you wanted to wring your own father’s feathery neck. The anger . . . it feels good. It feels right. It’s your nature. And you want it.”

I whirled around to shove him away from me, but my hands pushed empty air. Pryce still sat in his chair, smirking.

“Already your loyalties are shifting, cousin. You know I speak the truth. Deep down inside, you know.” I couldn’t even deny his words as a parade of images passed through my mind. Boston burning. A dead woman at my feet. The itch from my demon mark turned into a fire, a raging need to destroy. “When it is time,” Pryce said, his voice low but oh, so sure, “you will come to me.”

There is another way.

I blinked. The inner voice fled, but it took the horrible images with it.

I glanced at Pryce. He didn’t recoil in fear, the way the Destroyer had in my dream. Either he hadn’t heard the words, or they didn’t scare him.

“Well, then.” Pryce rubbed his hands together. “I won’t say it’s been a pleasure, but I do believe I’ve made my point. Stay out of that graveyard, or Tina dies.”

Pryce winked at me. Then he disappeared, returning to the hell where he belonged.

“PRYCE HAS TINA.”

Yes, I was stating the obvious. But maybe I was hoping the words wouldn’t exit my mouth or, if they did, would be so ridiculous Mab would laugh and we could both go to bed.

Mab didn’t laugh.

Instead, she paced back and forth across my living room. “Most likely, he’s holding her with the others, those poor missing zombies. It is imperative that we find the Old Ones’ base.”

“Maybe Juliet located them last night.” I went down the hallway, but the door to Juliet’s room was closed. She must have climbed into her coffin as soon as she got home. There’d be no waking her until the sun dipped below the horizon.

Back in the living room, I picked up the phone. “I’ll ask Daniel what they found out.”

The odds were good that he was sleeping, too, after driving around Boston all night. And he’d be extra sleepy if he’d let Juliet—
Not going there.
I pushed that image from my mind.

Daniel answered on the second ring, and my first reaction was a wave of relief that my roommate hadn’t had her way with him. But we had more important things to worry about, so I got right to the point.

“Did you find the Old Ones’ base? Juliet was asleep when I got home.”

“We uncovered several possibilities, but nothing definite yet. We’re going out again tonight.” A yawn sounded through the phone. “How did things go at the cemetery?”

“We made some progress. But Pryce has already taken a lot of Morfran out of there. And he has Tina.”

“Tina?” Daniel was silent for a few moments as though trying to place the name. “Your zombie friend? But her name isn’t on the list of missing PDHs.”

“He snatched her from under our noses. And he says he’ll kill her if we go back to the cemetery.”

“Damn.”

“We have to find them, Daniel. Tina’s an innocent kid.” Pryce would take great pleasure in infecting her with the Morfran and sending her as a weapon against me. He’d laugh with glee watching me fight off my own apprentice, only to stand by helplessly when the Morfran blew her to pieces. And he’d do it even if we complied with his demands. Staying out of the Burying Ground would only buy Tina some time. It wouldn’t save her life.

“We’re following up on some leads today,” Daniel said. “Finding out who owns the buildings, getting search warrants. But Juliet admitted last night she never picked up anything more than a stray thought or a one-on-one conversation, nothing to indicate a group of Old Ones. Nothing about zombies or demons, either—the thoughts she overheard were mostly about where to hunt for dinner. We’ve mapped all the locations where she heard something, of course, and we’re checking everything out. But we have to move cautiously because we don’t want to tip them off. As far as Juliet could tell, they don’t know we’re looking for them. I’d like to keep it that way.”

That was one piece of luck, however small. If the Old Ones thought their hiding place was secure, they wouldn’t be moving the zombies any time soon. Of course, that didn’t mean a thing if we couldn’t find them.

Daniel promised to keep me informed, and we hung up. I shook my head at Mab, who watched me, worry lines etched around her eyes.

“‘Possibilities,’ he said, but nothing definite. They’re following up on all leads, blah blah blah. The upshot is they don’t know.”

“Would he tell you if they did?”

I considered. Daniel was all cop. He’d warned me to stay away from his investigations in the past. Even though he’d hired me as a consultant, would he hold back information to keep me out of his way? Probably. Yet, this case was different.

“I think he’d tell me. He’d want me there to handle any Morfran that emerged.” Daniel had seen the effects of Morfran possession with his own eyes. “Anyway, Juliet would tell us.” No norm could make Juliet do anything she didn’t want to do. Even if she swore herself to secrecy, she’d do it with two perfectly manicured fingers crossed behind her back.

“She can’t tell us anything now,” Mab pointed out. “Not until nightfall.”

My confidence sagged. If the police did know where Old Ones were hiding, the smartest time to raid the place would be during the day, when the creatures were sluggish and the Morfran couldn’t materialize. Daniel might think he wouldn’t need me during a daytime raid. He could be preparing such a raid right now.

And what if Tina got caught in the middle? What if she got hit by an exploding zombie dropper or hauled off to that top-secret holding facility? What if Pryce had already infected her with the Morfran and it was ticking away inside her, waiting for nightfall to turn her into a killer and then destroy her?

Without knowing where to find the Old Ones, there was nothing I could do. And I hated feeling helpless. I wanted to charge in somewhere, lop off some Old One heads, and skewer Pryce like shish kebab. I wanted to slash Difethwr with my flaming sword until the Hellion was a steaming mass of melted goo. Most of all, I wanted to open Tina’s cell door and lead her to safety. But without the location, I couldn’t do a thing. I looked at my weapons cabinet and thought about the tools of my trade. I could be loaded with pistols, bristling with blades, and it wouldn’t do a bit of good. All weaponed up and no place to go.

Mab said we might as well try to sleep, so we could recharge for whatever was coming next. I knew she was right, but how could I sleep haunted by the image of Tina, crouched in a pitch-dark cell, waiting for me to rescue her? “Vicky, help,” she’d cried out, fear clouding her eyes.

And I was going to bed.

While Mab was in the bathroom washing up, I called Kane.

“I’m at the office,” he said when he answered.

“Still?” An all-nighter was extreme, even for Kane.

“I couldn’t afford to miss another day of work, so I’ve been here trying to clear my desk before the full moon.” He yawned.

I managed to get out about three words of my reply before he sensed something was wrong and insisted I fill him in. I told him everything—how we’d killed a significant amount of Morfran, how the Night Hag had captured Dad and almost made off with him, how Tina had rescued him only to be abducted herself. “We don’t know where Pryce is holding her.” My voice broke.

“Vicky.” Kane’s voice was soothing. “It’s okay. I understand how much you hate not being able to act right now. I feel that way all the time, like when a judge issues a biased decision or a just cause gets choked by red tape. Our methods are different, but we both feel that impulse to help very strongly.”

I was afraid anything I said would turn into a sob, so I didn’t answer.

“Right now, the best thing you can do for Tina is get some rest. When the time comes to move forward, you need to be strong and clearheaded, not trembling with fatigue.”

“You’re right,” I managed to squeak out. Mab had said the same thing.

“I need to take my own advice. I’ve been awake for more than twenty-four hours, and now’s not the time to exhaust myself.” In his pause, I knew we were both thinking about the strength he’d need to withstand the Night Hag. “I knew she rode through town last night, Vicky. The Mistress of Hounds. Ever since the moon started waxing, I feel her pull. It tugs at me more strongly each night. Last night, while I was trying to work, it nearly knocked me out of my chair, and I mean that literally. I felt that . . . that burning in my veins, and my body ached to change.” Horror thickened his voice. “It couldn’t, of course. Not until the first night of the full moon. But the pull felt so intense. I shouldn’t have gotten sidetracked into organizing that rally. It was a good show of unity, but my focus should have been on resting, getting strong, and building up my resistance. I can’t control the shape she forces on me, but whatever remains of me inside will fight her with everything I’ve got.”

“I wish you were here,” I whispered.

“So do I.” Even over the phone, his longing was palpable. I shivered.

“And Vicky,” he said. “Have faith in yourself. Tina does. Your aunt does. And I do.”

I brushed at my suddenly damp eyes. “I have faith in you, too.”

Given the impossible challenges we both faced, the words meant a lot. Everything, maybe.

MAB FELL ASLEEP AS SOON AS I TUCKED HER IN ON THE SOFA. I expected to spend several hours tossing and turning, but I must have been even more tired than I’d thought.

Sleep wrapped around me like a warm blanket. I let it hold me in the darkness. Tension drained from my limbs. Aches were soothed away. Worries that had sawed at my mind grew blunt and faded. Slowly, strength returned, filling me like a rising tide.

I didn’t think any of these thoughts. But somehow I knew them as my mind drifted in the warm darkness.

Eventually, the texture of that darkness changed, its uniform blankness ruffled by puffs and billows. It looked like a rising mist in shades of inky black and charcoal. Slowly, the mist spread and thickened, and I realized why. Someone was calling me on the dream phone. But who? Not Mab, her colors, silver and blue, always appeared quickly. Maria? She was still mastering this form of communication. I watched the mist for traces of Maria’s colors, candy-heart pink and sky blue, bleeding in, but the billows remained black and gray.

Black and gray? I didn’t know anyone with those colors.

I turned my mind away from the signal that someone wanted to talk to me. The black-and-gray mist persisted. It expanded to fill my dreamscape.

Finally, I grew impatient. I didn’t need to be solving puzzles in my sleep. “Who is it?” I demanded in a voice I hoped would scare the intruder away.

The mist whirled into a spiral. It looked like one of those satellite views of a hurricane. Coughing sputtered. The mist drew back. Then, the hurricane’s eye spat out a small, dark shape.

Butterfly lay gasping at my feet.

“Holy crap,” the demon wheezed. “You’ve got this dreamscape of yours locked up like Fort Freakin’ Knox.”

“There’s a reason for that.”

“Well, how else am I supposed to report to you? I can’t materialize in daylight, and it’s hours until dark. I figured getting into your dreamscape—you know, like a Drude—would be the easiest way.” Drudes are the demons that manifest in dreams, causing nightmares. “Hah!” Butterfly continued. “Look at how bruised I got trying!” The demon shook a wing at me. I didn’t see anything that looked like a bruise.

“I’m trying to get some rest,” I snapped. “Did you say you have something to report to me?”

Butterfly ignored my words, fluttering around my dreamscape as though checking the place out. “So then I got smart. Instead of beating my poor wings against the barriers, I’d get you to
invite
me in. Brilliant, huh? I knew all about that Cerddorion dream-phone thing from rummaging around in your brain—”

“Yes, fine, brilliant idea. Write it up as a book, and you’ll have the best-selling title in Uffern. But unless you actually do have something to report, get the hell
out
of my dreamscape. I mean it.”

“Best seller, huh? Too bad we don’t use money there. You try to barter an idea like that, some bigger demon steals it. Probably bites your head off in the process.” Butterfly quit flitting around and landed at my feet. “Hey, how come your eyes are bugging out like that? You should try to relax when you sleep. That’s what it’s for, you know.”

This was too much. I conjured a bronze sword. “Oh, right,” Butterfly said, flying out of reach. “My report. Well, it was like this. I got tired of hanging out in your gut and not being able to feed. It’s like, you know, going to an open-bar party when you’re on the wagon. So I split and went back to my own realm. And there I was, twiddling my thumbs. Figuratively speaking, of course, since I don’t have any.” Butterfly held up its two front legs to illustrate the point.

I gritted my teeth. Even in my dreamscape, my demon mark itched as I tightened my grip on the sword. This demon better have something to report that was worth the vast reserves of my patience it was squandering.

“To while away the time and distract myself from the fact you were starving me to death, I considered whether I should try to stop you from killing the Morfran in that cemetery. After all, it’s the essence of all demons, including yours truly. From one way of looking at things, it was like you and your aunt and your father were all destroying little pieces of my soul. Except it wasn’t. All that Morfran has nothing to do with me. I mean, I already
am
. Whatever Pryce wants that trapped Morfran for, it sure ain’t for my benefit.”

“You couldn’t have stopped me if you’d tried.”

“Heh.” Butterfly’s wings quivered with amusement. “You can believe that if you want to, I guess. Anyway, all of a sudden I heard this screaming. Now, screams are usually sweet ambrosia to any demon. But this . . .” The insect flew a quick loop-the-loop to show its agitation. “I wanted to cover my poor ears with my hands. And I would have, too, if I had, you know, ears. And hands.”

“You heard Tina.”

“Yeah, your zombie friend. I never heard such a racket. Enough to deafen all the demons of Hell.”

Why hadn’t I heard Tina screaming? I thought back. At first, I’d checked the demon plane frequently, watching for signs of trouble. But later the work was going so smoothly that I slacked off. After the Night Hag’s departure, I’d been in a hurry, wanting to kill as much Morfran as possible before dawn. I’d kept my ears tuned to the human plane, listening for the Night Hag’s return—and that was when Pryce snatched Tina and dragged her through Uffern.

I waited for Butterfly to gloat over my carelessness, but for once the demon didn’t take the bait. “I’m not a Drude,” it said in response to my thoughts. “I can’t feed inside your dreamscape. I’ll save that one for later, though. Thanks.”

“Go on with your story.”

“Pryce had a tough time with the zombie—the way she howled and struggled and hit at him, he could barely keep a grip on her. He had to call Difethwr to help. They were both so distracted, I figured this might be my one and only chance to follow them without being noticed. So I went for it.”

The absurd rush of gratitude I felt was swamped by the urgency to hear more. “You know where Pryce took Tina? Tell me,
now
!”