“Command me, mistress.”
We had no time for pleasantries, though I wondered if he wasn’t surprised to see me. If he was surprised at all, he didn’t show it. “Lead us out of this place.”
“As you wish.”
He burst into a cloud of gleaming, violet-gray smoke, with a pulsing purple tongue of fire at the center. The fire spun and sped away, and we followed lest we lost sight of it in the crowded room. We proceeded with haste, no longer bumping hip or stomach into the banquet table, and sooner than I could have imagined, the way cleared as the spirits parted to reveal a massive stone archway ahead. The exit.
Through the archway, I saw a stretch of earth with a whitish cast and the edge of a river. The air had begun to smell strange, but in this place, it was no surprise.
Oliroomim stopped and shed his smoky form, standing before me again as the spirit child I knew, all teeth and claws. His mouth, at least, was not bloodied this time—but I imagined it would not be so for long. “Satisfied, mistress?”
“Oh, child,” I said. “I’m sorry that I called you. I know I intended to allow your rest—”
He held up a small hand to silence my protest. “This is my rest now, mistress. And here in this place, we choose to go forth when the call comes. You can force us if no one volunteers, but here, our pain is persistent and eternal, and the chance for a moment of distraction is a welcome offer for many. Surely you’ve noticed how much easier it is to engage your powers?”
“Does my bidding not hurt you in here the same as the call to appear above?”
Oliroomim laughed, the childlike sound of his mirth a stark contrast to his fiendish appearance, and my heart ached for the state of his eternal soul.
“Of course not, mistress. In the world above, you wrench us from this place by force and bind our will to yours as though breaking in a wild stallion. Down here, in our home and yours—if you would only allow yourself to see it—we work as one.” He paused. Frowned. “Most of us. Not all of my kind are so amenable, but those are already your enemies. Take care to make no more, necromancers. Your strength here may be great, but you’ve brought warriors currying heaven’s favor into a place where they will find no welcome, and this alone may turn more horrors against you.”
“William.” My throat tightened. “Oliroomim, would you willingly do my bidding if I asked you to find those warriors and bring them to me alive and unharmed?” I saw the denial as it took shape on his lips but plunged ahead. “Don’t reveal yourself to them, not this form. But consider that once they’re returned to me, I can keep them from riding roughshod over this place. They’ll be under my control, and I’ll accept responsibility.”
“It shall be done,” he said, and vanished.
19
The Red
“We should proceed,” my father said, but I turned a furious eye on him. “Waiting here is certain death. Who knows how long it will take, or by what means your spirit friend will bring the others here?”
“He’s no friend of mine.”
“You take my meaning. Staying here invites trouble.”
“We wait.”
He scowled but didn’t press the point. “We should go to the other side of the arch, at least. Through the door, where your sisters cannot see you, where Jealousy can’t cut a swath through the crowd and slice us to pieces.”
He made a reasonable argument. “Fine. And at least you finally got to meet Charlotte and Victoria. Are they as lovely as you expected?”
He regarded me with surprise, but of course I spoke in jest. My heart wanted to stay in the grand ballroom and wait for William’s appearance at the far end—and truthfully, I might have rushed back into the fray if Oliroomim hadn’t been the one to answer my summons—but a howl and a slam shook the ground and sent my feet hurrying toward the archway instead. Cowardly? Perhaps. But Oliroomim had been the one to return Edward to me, and so I trusted him. The wisdom of that trust is another matter.
Through the archway, I assumed, lay our next challenge. I strode with purpose, heading toward the strange, whitish shore and the river.
“Ellison, wait!” My father’s footsteps hastened quickly behind, and I held back a sigh of frustration. No matter my choices in this place, someone was always telling me to wait. At this rate, I would be a hundred years old when I reached my mother. I stepped through the arch and the sounds of battle vanished as though snuffed. I touched my ears to be sure they remained intact and heard the brush of my fingers against skin. I had simply reached a place almost devoid of sound save for a strange pop and gurgle, like bubbles in a pot of thick stew set to boil.
I inhaled deeply and coughed. The coppery scent had grown to a stench. Thick. Hot. Metallic. Too familiar. Where was it coming from?
I stepped toward the river, which—now that I stood closer—took on a reddish hue. Before I traversed more than several steps from the stone archway, however, the earth crunched sharply under my feet. It sounded like dry branches snapping on a forest path. I halted. I had assumed I trod upon stones, but stones did not crack like brittle twigs.
I glanced down in the murky gloom and stared at the beach in disbelief. Surely my eyes deceived me. I lifted my foot, crouched, and examined what lay beneath. My fingers closed around a jagged, concave object, and I raised it to inspect, the stones shifting around it.
They were not stones.
They were bones.
Human bones. And between my fingers were the crushed remains of a human skull. My stomach lurched, and I willed myself to examine, to see, the surface of the earth. White bone covered the ground, stretching far into the distance to our right, to our left. Piled and packed, not one spot left uncovered, a carpet that reached the river’s edge.
The river.
I knew the stench and I knew it well, and with my eyes opened to the sight beneath my feet, I looked—truly looked—at the river.
Hot, red blood. It boiled and churned, pockets of air bubbling up to pop on the surface, sending droplets to splatter across the bank. Skulls and ribs, arm and leg bones, were coated in slick redness. I might have compared it to the stories of plague graves piled high with bodies after the Black Death swept across the continent, but even after decomposition, those bones would be clean and whole. The piles of bones here, however, more resembled the remnants of a horrific massacre, cracked and jagged and dry.
Each splash of river blood landed with a spatter like the freshly slit throat of a pig. Bile crept up the back of my throat and I swallowed, the acid burning my insides. The closer I drew to the river, the greater the revolting tang of hot sulfur. I nearly gagged at the taste of it on my tongue and my eyes began to water as if I had cut into a fresh onion. When the first droplet slid down my cheek, I slapped at my skin with alarm, thinking I’d been sprayed by the river. But no, my hand came away wet and clear.
Whose bones were these? And whose blood?
I sensed the others joining me at the river’s edge and glanced over, hopeful—and those hopes were rewarded. William, Lorenz, and Samia stood along the bank. Lorenz looked as I imagined I did—ready to let the contents of his stomach splash across the bones at his feet. Samia turned away from the sight in blatant disgust, and William … well, my joy at our safe reunion lasted as long as it took for me to take in the sight of him. His cheeks were ashen and his shoulders drooped.
“William? Are you all right? What happened?”
He blinked as if trying to understand my words. “We were escorted through a dark tunnel by a violet light. I wanted to eat more, but every bite only increased my hunger, until … the light stung my hand when I reached for a piece of cake.”
“Stung you?”
“Yes, and it buzzed around our heads until we were annoyed enough to go after it, and the next moment, we were on this beach of bones. And you spoke to me just now.” He shook his head and pressed a palm against his temple. “Ellison, there’s something wrong about this place.”
I sighed, fo
r I tired of this conversation. “Of course there’s something wrong. We’re in hell.”
“No, I mean something more. Have you looked at yourself since we arrived?”
Was he trying to insult me? “I haven’t, but it isn’t as though there’s a wide selection of mirrors available.”
He frowned and the shadows on his face sank deeper. “You look as though you’ve been reborn, Ellison. Renewed. Your complexion is radiant.” He cupped a hand on my cheek. “I’ve never seen you look more beautiful, and that terrifies me.”
“I’m not sure whether to thank you or to demand an apology.” He drew his hand away and resumed his focus on the river. I couldn’t say the same of him, with his grayed skin. Perhaps the perpetually dim, bluish light of this place caused him to look ill and sickly, but even I knew that couldn’t be the whole truth.
This place had begun to affect us each in different ways, and soon we’d all be required to pay the price of descending into a realm where the living were never meant to tread. Charon had not spoken falsely when he warned us to beware, but I still had believed that we would all come through our quest whole and unscathed.
Pretty lies are always the easiest to swallow, and they taste delicious until the moment they cause the stomach to turn against the body.
“How will we cross?” Samia crouched as she examined the bones at our feet. “I certainly hope these aren’t the bones of travelers who tried to cross before us, but both bone and blood must belong to someone.”
“The far bank may be more of the same, I think,” my father said, squinting to see the opposite side. “These bones have been deposited here by other means.”
“Which you happen to know?”
“That, I did not say.”
Samia glared at him, but we had no time for squabbles. Lorenz remained silent as we scanned the beach for a sign of bridge or boat to make our way across. With every wet pop of boiling blood, my stomach’s contents crept a little farther up my throat. If we didn’t find a way to leave this place soon, I would not be able to hold it back.
“The spirits that come this way have to cross,” I said. “How do they get to the other side? Where does this lead?”
“I’m not swimming in that,” William muttered. “Is it truly boiling?” He knelt at the bank and leaned over, fingers reaching for the red surface. As he leaned further to touch it, his medallion swung over the edge and—as if repulsed by its very existence—the blood rolled back, revealing dark, dry earth deep below.
William sat upright and the instant his medallion swung back against his chest, the blood rushed back into place.
“Huh.” He repeated the movement with the same result, then removed the medallion and wrapped the chain around his wrist to hold it dangling over the river. “I wonder how long it would remain parted. Long enough for a body to traverse, or would it close halfway through?” He glanced at Samia and Lorenz. “Try your talismans, see if they have the same effect.”
Samia joined William at the bank, and Lorenz adjusted a large silver ring on his finger.
“I thought you had a staff,” I said to Lorenz. “When I first met you, Cromer and … ” I couldn’t bring myself to speak our lost companion’s name, and I hoped he understood.
Lorenz nodded deferentially toward William. “We all start with staffs, but as we rise in training and experience, the king allows us to choose an item more personal to us to receive heaven’s favor. This ring belonged to my grandfather. He gave it to me when I was a little boy, and made me promise to always act with courage and humility, regardless of the cost to my own pride. I can’t say I’ve always followed through, but I believe he’d be glad to see what I’ve made of myself.”
I smiled to encourage him, for I’d had few dealings with Lorenz outside of his protective duties for William. I knew very little about him as an individual. “I believe he would be too, from what I know of you.”
For the first time since we’d met, his guard slipped, and the edges of his lips lifted in an echo of a smile. “Thank you, Miss Ellison. I know you’re the subject of much fear and gossip these days, but you have a good heart, if an unusual way of showing it on occasion.”
He winked then also joined William at the riverbank, and I smiled despite the strangeness of smiling in such a vile place.
The blood retreated from the presence of Lorenz’s ring, and further still when combined with William’s medallion. Samia withdrew a small book from a pouch at her hip. It looked ancient and valuable, its cover and pages gilded and shimmering. She held it with great reverence and hesitated before extending it over the river—but when she did, the river slunk back as for the others.
“This is how we get across,” I said, marveling at the sight. “The three of you can surround my father and I, each holding your talisman in your right hand and forming the circle with the left, so that we move as one.”
“Someone will have to walk backward and take care not to stumble,” William said. “I’ll do it.”
Lorenz shook his head. “It’s the riskiest position. I’ll do it.”
Samia scowled. “I’m surer footed than you, I should be the one to go behind.”
“Not a chance.” Lorenz directed his plea to William. “Your Highness, it’s your decision.”
“Not a chance?” Samia’s voice grew louder. “Why, because I’m a woman? It’s fitting for a man to rush headlong into danger to protect someone even if she is more qualified?”
Lorenz’s eyes widened with surprise. “Not at all, though I acknowledge that has undoubtedly been your experience in the past. I suggest it, rather, because I can swing my hand from side to side faster since my ring is attached to my person.”
“And I can’t move a book?”
“There’s a greater risk of dropping your talisman or having it knocked from your grasp while moving it around.”
Samia stared at Lorenz for a moment, then nodded. “Agreed. Thank you. Lorenz walks behind, Will and I on either side, the death-bringers in center.”
“Death-bringer!” I exclaimed before my mind caught up with my mouth. “Is that how you see us?”
“You call the dead, do you not? You bring forth spirits and demons who are agents of death, correct?” I said nothing, and she turned a resolved chin back to William. “I thought so. I speak only truth with no intention of disrespect.”
She did, at that. How could I find offense in truth?
William nodded his agreement with the plan, though his complexion remained too gray for my liking. Now that I saw all three of them side by side, they appeared more tired than I would have expected from such capable warriors. Their cheekbones had become more prominent, their eyes more sunken. I glanced at my father as the three discussed further strategy. He was staring across the river toward the shore with an expression akin to anger. Before I could ask after him, the trio broke apart, and William took my hand.
“The plan is set,” he said. “You and your father will need to stay close—we don’t know how far the river will part or how well we can hold it back. Hopefully, the more talismans combined, the greater the strength, but we won’t know until our feet are on solid ground. Are you ready?” I nodded, and he asked my father the same. I was not certain my father had heard any of the discussion or if he was at all aware of our plan, but he nodded once at William’s question while continuing to gaze at the opposite bank.
The three took formation a short distance from the river’s edge. I stepped in the center of their triangle, my right hand on William’s upper arm, the other gripping my father. We stood tightly, awkwardly positioned and uncomfortable in our closeness, but Samia acted as coxswain for our steps so that one person wouldn’t advance too quickly or too slowly and risk pulling the rest off balance. Our practice brought us to the river’s edge, and I held my breath as William, pendant aloft, stepped down. I was certain that William’s foot would plunge into the blood to be boiled and burned until only ivory bone remained, but instead th
e river reared back as if appalled by our presence, and William’s foot landed on dry ground.
As we shuffled onto the riverbed, the blood rose on all sides until we were surrounded by a circular barrier of gurgling, red liquid. The space above our heads remained clear, so we could still see the darkness overhead, and the blood wall kept back from our group about two paces. It rose as tall as the depth of the river, which I took for granted at first—but as the river grew deeper and the blood wall rose higher, we could no longer see the opposite bank and could only pray that we moved toward it in a straight path.
As inappropriate as the thought may have been, the blood and the walls and the dry land beneath our feet brought to mind the story from the scriptures of Moses and the parted Red Sea … but perhaps it should have reminded me more of the first plague. In any form, I preferred not to be surrounded by water or blood, even if protected from it by some divine power.
“It’s as though God is playing a joke on us,” my father murmured, once we’d gone far enough that turning back was an unlikely option, regardless of reservations.
“I don’t see this as a laughing matter,” Lorenz said.
“No?” My father mused. “I should think the Lord’s sense of humor is well-developed—the best, in fact. Humor is best served in dire circumstances. It lightens the heart and gives strength to go on.”
“I suggest we keep going and laugh on the other side,” Samia said.
The walls of blood surrounding us stank with a fierceness that reached down my gullet and the sensation nearly caused me to retch, and no less disturbing was the heat that radiated from the liquid. This close to the offending fluid, it was difficult to think. Even parted, it continued to boil, and droplets sprayed toward our party as the bubbles burst across the surface.
I gasped in alarm as a red droplet hit the back of my hand. At my cry, William tried to angle toward me, instinct born out of so much time fighting the darkness together.
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