Hand of the God Page 8

  Both of the older men gaped at me. Chester recovered first, blinking a few times as he handed me the canteen from one of his jacket pockets. “I’m thinkin’ me and Rex’ll stay down here and work on the fire,” he said. “Guess you’ve got this.”

  “Well, damn. I know when I’m beat.” Rex grinned as he held his canteen out to Taeral. “You find any snakes out there, go ahead and kill those bastards too. Honestly, rattler meat ain’t half bad when it’s roasted right.”

  Taeral shuddered. “I would sooner eat raw sewage.”

  “Suit yourself.” Rex shrugged and went back to the wood pile, squatting on his haunches to rearrange things.

  I let out a slow breath and faced Taeral. “You ready?”

  “Aye,” he said. “Though I am not pleased at the prospect of snakes.”

  “Yeah, you and me both.”

  Running into a couple of rattlesnakes was the least dangerous possibility of this little expedition into the desert. But at least watching out for snakes would keep my mind off Milus Dei and what waited for us in the mountain.

  Chapter 14

  With a full moon and a clear sky liberally sprinkled with stars, we had enough light to move around comfortably. Taeral covered the hole he’d opened in the ground after we climbed up, making sure we’d be able to find the disturbed earth again. And we set off toward a small clump of cottonwood trees surrounded by scrub brush in the near distance.

  “So, I saw Kelwyyn today,” I said.

  Taeral shot a glare at me. “Where?”

  “Back at the burial pit, when I blacked out.”

  “And you did not think to mention this before now?”

  “Didn’t want to bring it up in mixed company.” I let out a breath and told him about the ‘DeathSpeaker spell’ that made releasing all those souls easier, and what he’d said about Dante and the Word. “Apparently, I can summon him when I need help,” I said.

  Taeral’s brow rose. “Dante?”

  “No, Kelwyyn,” I said, biting back a laugh. “Believe me, if I could summon Dante, I would’ve done it by now. So I could end that bastard.”

  “That may not be the best idea, brother,” he said. “Not until we know more about this creature.”

  “All I need is the Word. And Kelwyyn said I’d have it when I faced him.”

  “Did he? Those were his exact words?”

  I clenched my jaw. “Okay, he said I’d have it when I need it. But if Dante is the great evil, that’s when I’ll need it. To destroy him.”

  “Perhaps. Perhaps not,” Taeral said softly, tilting his face to the moon and the bright stars above. “Magic does not always obey the desires of the one who wields it, Gideon. Particularly a powerful spell such as this. I believe that Kelwyyn learned this lesson at great personal cost, and I’d not see the same happen to you.”

  “Yeah. I mean, you’re right,” I said with a sigh. After the Fae nobles had Kelwyyn’s daughter executed in an attempt to control him, he went crazy and got more dangerous than ever. In his madness, he’d used the Word to destroy a lot of souls forever, and I knew he regretted it. That’s why he hadn’t even spoken it out loud when he gave it to me — instead, he’d planted it in my head so I couldn’t get to it easily. “But I’m so goddamned furious about … everything, you know? We came out here to stop them before they got started, only to find they’d already killed five hundred innocent people. We have to take them down.”

  “Aye, and we will. Eventually,” Taeral said. “You are right to want this Dante destroyed, and you are the only one who can accomplish it. But I’ll not see you sacrifice yourself in the attempt. That is why I caution restraint, and patience.” He flashed a crooked smile. “It is my job to protect you, brother. Even when you refuse to accept my protection.”

  I grunted. “We got rid of that promise, remember?”

  “And yet I will keep it. Because I choose to.”

  “Yeah, I know you will.” I grinned and elbowed him. “So how about you protect me from that snake?”

  He went rigid. “Snake?”

  I let him hang for a few seconds, until I couldn’t hold back a laugh. “Relax, man. Snakes go to sleep when the sun goes down. You won’t see any out here.” I paused and arranged a sober expression. “Unless you step on a nest, of course.”

  Taeral glowered at me until I cracked a smile. “There is nothing amusing about snakes,” he said.

  “Yeah, but there’s plenty amusing about your face,” I sputtered, caught up in laughter again. “Come on, let’s get to those trees. I promise there won’t be a single snake over there.”

  He didn’t look convinced, but he started walking again.

  As we approached the little patch of moon-black greenery standing stark against the sands, a flurry of jackrabbits burst out from under the brush. We acted fast enough to take down three of them with headshots — well, mostly Taeral did, since he was still a much better shot than me. By unspoken consent, we moved quickly to gather the rabbit carcasses and head into the vegetation, in case anyone was lurking around and heard the shots.

  Good thing we did, because just as we reached the trees, the distant thrum of a helicopter filled the air. We crawled under the brush and waited as the sound grew louder, and then caught sight of a searchlight zigzagging across the ground. The light passed over our hiding place two or three times, and finally the chopper continued on until we couldn’t hear the engine anymore.

  So they were still out looking for us. I hoped that meant they had no idea about the tunnels.

  Just as I’d mentioned to Rex, where there was life, there was water. Inside the little oasis, a partially hidden spring bubbled from beneath the roots of one of the trees, feeding into a shallow watering hole.

  We both drank our fill before we held the canteens to the spring. Then Taeral shot me a wary glance before he produced a large silver flask from inside his duster.

  I arched an eyebrow. “Whiskey?”

  “Elderberry wine,” he said, wincing slightly. “I would claim I brought it for medicinal purposes, but …” His jaw twitched as he cut himself off and stared at the ground.

  “Hey, man. I’m not going to knock you for your drinking habits, okay?” I knew exactly when it started, and why — sometime shortly after Milus Dei had held and tortured him for nine months, and he’d had to cut off his own arm to escape. That wasn’t the only thing he’d lost, either. “That’s Sadie’s job.”

  He frowned and started to unscrew the top. “I will pour it out. We’ve more of a need for water, anyway.”

  I put a hand over his to stop him. “Got a better idea,” I said. “Let’s drink it. I mean, it’s berries, and berries are fruit, so it’s practically nutrition.”

  He looked startled for a second, and then eased into a grin. “Aye, I suppose it is,” he said. “We should not waste nutrition at a time like this.”

  “Exactly.”

  Not far from the tree stand was a large, flat rock with the biggest face slightly inclined, perfect for desert stargazing. We climbed up and lay back with our pendants out to catch the moonlight, passing the flask back and forth in comfortable silence.

  Taeral and I didn’t get much time to just hang out and be brothers. And yeah, being in the middle of the desert and trying not to get killed by Milus Dei while we tracked down a legendary Fae-killing weapon wasn’t the best time to kick back and enjoy the company — but it was nice while it lasted.

  When the flask was nearly empty, Taeral let out a long breath and propped himself up on his elbows, his gaze rooted to the sky. “Counting stars,” he muttered.

  “What’d you say?”

  He smiled crookedly. “The stars remind me of Levoran,” he said. “How he said it would not be so bad, to spend eternity counting them. Perhaps he is right. I must admit, it is quite peaceful in this place.”

  “Yeah, maybe.” I didn’t want to think too much about Levoran at the moment, especially the way he died — both times. He’d been an old family friend, much more t
o Taeral and Daoin than me, and his passing had hurt. But part of me had to agree with the sentiment. This kind of clear, star-filled, quiet night in nature was the only comfort I had growing up. And I’d always been drawn to the moon, even before I knew what I was. “I’m not ready for eternity yet, though,” I finally said.

  Taeral shifted slightly. “Nor am I. But I do wonder … what will we do, when it’s over? If we manage to defeat Dante—”

  “When,” I said with as much confidence as possible. “We are going to beat him.”

  “Very well, then.” He smiled. “When we defeat Dante, when Milus Dei is no longer a threat. What happens then? We have fought them for so long, I can scarcely remember when I had a purpose that did not relate to either avoiding them, or battling them.”

  I shrugged and summoned a grin. “I’m going to Disneyworld.”

  Taeral raised an eyebrow. “You wish to battle evil in a children’s amusement park?”

  “Never mind,” I laughed. “It’s an old joke, before your time. Honestly … I have no idea what we’ll do. Maybe we should just take a vacation.”

  “At Disneyworld?” he said.

  He seemed so earnest, I couldn’t bring myself to laugh at him. “Yeah, sure. Why not?” I said, sitting up to stretch. “Meanwhile, we should probably get back to the rest of them before Chester and Rex start trying to ‘protect the women,’ or something equally chivalrous and stupid.”

  “Aye,” Taeral chuckled. “Though I’d not mind seeing Sadie react to such an offer.”

  We headed back toward the trees, to refill the flask and gather the rabbits. Even though I hadn’t slept, I actually felt more rested than I had all day — more than I had for weeks, in fact. Whether it was the rare moment of peace or the wine, or more likely both, I was restored.

  So maybe the long night ahead wouldn’t be so bad, after all.

  Chapter 15

  Chester and Rex not only had a good fire going, complete with spits ready for the rabbits, they’d also produced a notebook and pen between them and drawn up a rotating watch schedule for the night. Two up and four down for two-hour stretches, with a sentry posted at either side of the tunnel while the rest of us slept.

  Of course, they’d nominated themselves for the first watch. Color me unsurprised.

  We ate well, considering. I’d spotted a good-sized patch of prickly pear on the way back, so we had meat, greens, and fresh spring water. Plus it turned out Chester had been holding back a Hershey bar. Twelve squares of chocolate divided by six people, which worked out perfectly.

  No one had much to say after dinner. We paired off with Calla and I bedding down on the opposite side of the fire from Taeral and Sadie, while Rex and Chester split into the tunnel—Rex headed down the mine shaft toward the mountain, and Chester backtracking into the freshly burrowed part. I was still uneasy about who, or what, that tunnel came from, but we didn’t have a lot of options.

  The slightly spongy ground wasn’t the most comfortable of beds, but I’d slept on worse. I slid an arm around Calla, and she nestled closer and laid her head on my chest. “Maybe I should’ve stayed home,” she murmured.

  “You mean you’re not having fun out here?” I said, trying to prod a smile. It didn’t work. “Seriously, what’s wrong? Besides … you know, everything.”

  She released a shivery sigh. “I wanted to help you,” she said. “I’m not helping.”

  “Seriously? You got us past those guards on the main road. Plus, you brought guns,” I said. “And we’d probably still be on the road right now, driving my van out here, if it wasn’t for you.”

  “Yeah, well, getting here faster didn’t do us any good, did it?” The edges of anger traced her low voice. “They killed all those people. An entire town. Why?”

  “I don’t know,” I said reluctantly. Though I’d only gotten scattered thoughts from the former residents of Basin Springs, I knew one thing: none of them could’ve answered that question, even if I’d asked directly. They had no idea why, either. “But I’m going to find out, once we get our hands on some of those soldiers.”

  “You mean by killing them and asking their corpses.”

  “Yes.” My own voice took on a hard, flat tone I barely recognized. “Pretty sure I’m fresh out of mercy when it comes to Milus Dei.”

  Calla shivered against me. “That’s not like you, Gideon.”

  “Well, maybe it is now.” I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I just want to do what we came for, and get it over with.”

  “Me, too.” She shifted, and her breath feathered my throat. “So it seems like you know a lot about deserts,” she said. “Is that because of your … the Valentines?”

  I frowned. “Aren’t we supposed to be getting some sleep?”

  “Fine. Don’t tell me.”

  Damn it. I recognized that particular variety of ‘fine’— it meant she was upset with me, and probably a little hurt that I wouldn’t open up. To be honest, I couldn’t help my response. Slamming the door on my past was pure reflex, an instinctive reaction I’d built up since I’d escaped them at sixteen.

  But I had to trust somebody, sometime. Pretty sure it was Sadie who’d told me something to that effect, even though it took me a while to act on it.

  I could choose to trust Calla.

  “Yeah, it’s because of them,” I said in a near whisper. She’d never met them, but she’d handled their mutilated corpses after they were killed by a rogue djinn. And she’d seen the ghost of Orville Valentine, my once-alleged father, tongue-lashing me a new asshole while he tried to kill me even after he’d died. “We spent a lot of time in deserts, mostly during the winters. Those were some of the worst times, actually.”

  Calla went very still, as if she could feel the echoes of pain rolling through me. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “You don’t have to talk about it.”

  “No, it’s okay. I want to.” I hugged her a little tighter and managed a smile. “The thing about a desert is that basically, there’s nowhere to hide,” I said. “The forests, the swamps, even the mountains, there was always somewhere else to go. Away from them, when they finally decided to ignore me for a while. But in the desert …” I trailed off, unable to shape the desolation of endless miles of nothing into words. How trapped I’d felt during those weeks and months I’d been forced to stay near the camp — because the only other option was to wander out into the wastelands and die. “Anyway, I’m not a fan of them. Deserts.”

  She raised her head to look at me. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For not shutting me out,” she said with a gentle smile. “You didn’t say much, but it means a lot to me.”

  “You’re welcome, then.” I grinned back. “So that means you’re not mad at me anymore, right?”

  She huffed a breath. “Please tell me you didn’t say that just so I wouldn’t be mad.”

  I started to crack a joke, but something in her eyes stopped me. Just this once, maybe I’d attempt to be serious.

  “No, I didn’t,” I said. “It’s not easy for me to keep that door open, and I can’t let you all the way through. I don’t want anyone in there with them, in that space where I keep the past locked up in my head. I won’t let those memories hurt the people I care about, period. But …” I clenched my jaw and exhaled through my nose. “I think, with you, I can start letting things out. And who knows? Maybe someday I’ll clear the whole room, and then you can help me wash the blood from the walls and start over.”

  Her tight expression melted, and her eyes glistened in the firelight. “You know, I think that’s the most you’ve ever said to me at once.”

  “So you’re saying I should shut up now.”

  “You’re impossible,” she said, laughing as she leaned down to kiss me. “I’m just saying that I won’t push you — but any time you want to talk, I’m here to listen. Okay?”

  “Okay.” I planted a kiss on her forehead. “Can we go to sleep now? I mean, u
nless you want to look for somewhere a little more private…”

  She giggled and rested her head on me again. “This is a tunnel. It’s practically the definition of no privacy,” she said. “So I guess we’ll just have to sleep.”

  “Damn. That sucks.”

  A smile lingered on her lips as her eyes closed. Not long after, her breathing slowed and evened out, and her body relaxed.

  “So much for sleeping with one eye open,” I whispered into her hair with a smile of my own. Hopefully she’d manage to get a few solid hours of sleep. I had to try for the same, so I closed my eyes and focused on keeping them closed, until drowsiness stole over me.

  And within what felt like seconds, I opened them in the desert.

  Chapter 16

  It was a dream. Had to be, because this wasn’t night or New Mexico. It was the last gasp of dusk in the Sonoran Desert, specifically the southern part in actual Mexico. And I could see the dying light of the sun glinting off the circle of silver Airstreams in the distance.

  I even knew which day this was. Mid-January, the winter I was fifteen. The Valentines had been down here hunting jaguars and Gila monsters — both big-dollar catches for the black market. The previous night, Orville had forced me to flush out a nest of the poisonous lizards, and one of them clamped its jaws onto my hand. I had to kill it to get it off. The bite was agonizing, and I’d been sicker than a dog since. I’d also caught a beating with his belt because I’d been dumb enough to render my hand, and therefore my slave labor, useless.

  Just before this moment, a drunken Orville had ordered useless, stupid me to leave his camp. I’d staggered away in a stupor with a vague plan to wander the wastelands until I dropped dead. And then I noticed the stars.