The Undead Pool

Page 31

“I understand,” I said, not wanting to talk about it as the soft feel of Bis in my thoughts became obvious. He was searching me out. “It doesn’t matter.”
Lips a thin line, he hid himself behind his binoculars, scanning the path behind us. “It does matter.”
“Not when there’s no other choice,” I said, meaning about three things, and I gave Tulpa a thankful pat, glad I was on him and not flaky Red. “Bis is coming.”
Trent dropped the binoculars as the gargoyle popped in to startle the horses. “They’re almost on top of you,” Bis said, landing awkwardly on the ground since there weren’t any rocks nearby bigger than a softball. “Take your reading.”
Red stared at Bis, legs like posts, and the concerned gargoyle shifted his skin color to vanish against the red earth. She didn’t like that either, and for a moment, Trent concentrated on keeping her from rearing as he danced her back and forth. Honestly, she was a little fruitcake.
“Zero point five hundred naught seven,” Trent said, snatching a look at the meter. “You got that?”
“Bis,” I pleaded, and the kid flashed back to his normal pebbly gray skin and pointedly walked away. Finally Red calmed, and I wrote the reading down on a scrap of paper. Trent wasn’t happy about my casual regard to science, but the number was clear and precise.
“Maybe we should get moving,” Trent said as he tucked the handheld meter away.
“I so agree,” I said, sending Tulpa down the hill in a jolting, uncomfortable motion.
“That way?” Trent pointed to the towering slumps of rocks, and when I nodded, we took off at a fast canter across the wide flat plain full of rocks and dips. A frustrated howl echoed, and we turned. Behind us, three surface demons stood under the open sky, unable to keep up. Bis laughed from overhead, but I wasn’t happy. The horses were vulnerable. This might have been a mistake, and from the look on Trent’s face, I could tell he felt the same way.
“I know this place,” he said loudly, and we slowed to a jolting trot.
“Rail yard?” I guessed, seeing a deep gully cut across the landscape. It was flat here, but across it were the dips and slumps of broken buildings.
Trent pointed to a substantial road spanning the ravine. “I don’t like how close the surface demons are. Let’s get across before we take a reading.”
“I’ll find a good path for you,” Bis said, and Red snorted when he flew ahead, hovering over the broken bridge before dropping down to check out the underside.
Tulpa went first; if the ground gave way under him, the older horse would react better than Red. The excitable mare was becoming more and more agitated, testing Trent’s implacable cool as our hooves echoed and we skirted the gaping holes. If we were to be ambushed, it would be here. I breathed easier when we finally made it across, but I couldn’t shake the feeling we were being surrounded.
“This looks good. Bis?” I said, just wanting to get a reading and move on.
The gargoyle stood on a pile of rock, wings held tight to his body as he tried not to scare Red. “It might take a while. You wouldn’t believe the cops on the other side,” he said, and then he sort of sidestepped into nothing. Wow, the kid is really getting good.
I wanted to get down from Tulpa but didn’t dare. I glanced at Trent. “Thanks for doing this with me.”
Trent looked up from the meter. “I wasn’t about to leave you alone with Landon.” A wry smile showed in the dusky light. “I know you better than that.”
Tulpa had sidled up close, and Red seemed to appreciate it. “I hope you can get home through the blockades,” I said. “But with your pull, it probably won’t be hard.”
“Shouldn’t be, but things change.” Eyes squinting, Trent kept looking at the moon, estimating the remaining light, maybe. Red nickered when a sliding rock clinked not four hundred yards away, and my expression blanked when a tall surface demon slowly pulled himself up from behind a boulder to look down at us. The gritty wind pulled at his tattered clothing, making it seem as if it were his aura fluttering, ragged and torn.
“He’s a bold one,” Trent said, his voice just as calm as before, and I knew the surface demon heard him when he hissed. We had to leave. Science day was over.
Trent turned in the saddle. His expression was grim when he spun back to me. “I don’t think we’re going to get any more readings. Where’s the nearest line to get out of here?”
My pulse pounded. We weren’t in any immediate danger, but the horses were. “Ahhh, the university?” I said, wincing as I realized the surface demon had vanished. “Or Eden Park.” Neither of them were good choices, the first too far away, and the second up an impassable hill. “Oh!” I said suddenly, and Tulpa snorted, stomping his foot at nothing I could see. “There’s one just across the river. I keep forgetting the river is empty here. We can just run across it.”
Red whinnied. Tulpa’s ears went back, neck arched and tail up like a war horse. Trent pulled Red up short, and she spun, barely under control. “There!” Trent shouted, and Red danced sideways as a huge slump of building slid into the empty tributary we’d just crossed.
Surface demons scrabbled out, howling and brandishing rocks like the long dead. Red kept backing up, rising up on her haunches as Trent yelled at her. Tulpa finally broke his cool, and I struggled to bring him around to face the demons as I pulled heavily on the nearest line.
Squealing, Red dropped to her front feet, taking the bit between her teeth when the reins went slack—and then she bolted.
“Trent!” I shouted, giving Tulpa his head as she ran, almost going down as her feet skidded in the scree. Her eyes were wild with fear as she found her balance and rose, Trent still on her. A surface demon howled, and Red lunged to escape, taking a tiny opening and clattering onto a wide boulevard. My heart pounded as I followed. The shadows of the buildings seemed to hold a hundred eyes as we thundered past.
“Rachel?” Trent shouted as we caught up, but Red was totally out of control. Leaning, I reached for her bridle, and the horse lunged ahead. She had been teased, tormented, and frustrated by Trent’s dubious training techniques. If there was a trick, she knew it.
“I have to let her run it out!” he cried, and I dropped back. Out of control or not, we were headed for the river.
She is a damn fast horse, I thought as Tulpa began to slowly lose ground.
And then a soft boom turned into a building slowly crumbling down before us.
“Look out!” Trent shouted, managing to get Red slowed enough that Tulpa barely took the lead. Out of her stupid horse mind in fear, Red followed him, making a hoof-sliding turn to the left behind us. Trent looked pissed as he struggled to bring Red under control as we galloped down the ruin of Cincinnati’s streets, the way remarkably clear. Unusually clear. Not good.
“We’re being forced somewhere!” I yelled, and Trent’s jaw tightened. “We have to get across the river!” I called out, my heart pounding at the sudden silhouette standing atop a building, watching us. “Trent—”
Howling and waving a stick long as a broom handle, a surface demon rose up right in front of us. Tulpa screamed in anger, and I fought to keep him from charging. Red squealed in terror, the stupid mare spinning in useless circles. Surface demons were dropping from the surrounding buildings like spiders.
“Tulpa! Stand!” I shouted, and the old stallion screamed at me again, but finally halted, lungs heaving and sweating as I gathered a wad of energy and forced it into my hand. The surface demons circled us, all of them reaching for Red. “You will not touch her!” I exclaimed, and with a huge pull on the line, I shouted, “Detrudo!”
The curse exploded from me in a visible wave, blowing the surface demons back like leaves and sending them head over heels into the shadows. Red screamed in terror, rearing up and teetering backward. Trent gave her her head so she wouldn’t fall, and with that bare hint of control, she dropped to four feet, lowered her head, and bucked him right off.
“Trent!” I screamed, and Tulpa lurched to him as Trent sat on the ground, struggling for air as Red’s horsy ass quickly vanished into the dark and down the open path between the buildings. Hooting, the surface demons flashed into a flailing motion after her. In five seconds flat we were alone, the sound of Red’s hooves and the howling demons fading.
“Ow,” Trent said softly, his alarm hesitating as he got up and felt his backside. “She bucked me off,” he said as if in awe. “That flaky horse dropped me!”
“It happens to me all the time,” I said, fear tightening my shoulders at Red’s distant whinny. “Come on. Get up!” I extended my arm down to him as if I actually knew how to lift a person onto a horse like that, and Trent took it, somehow managing the leap as if we’d done it all the time. Thank God I’d learned how to ride English. It made stuff like this easier.
He settled in behind me, Tulpa spinning as Trent gripped me around the waist. Without warning, he shouted, “Hiiiee!,” and Tulpa bolted, Trent’s heels and seat pushing him forward.
I might be holding the reins, but I wasn’t in control, and a shiver went through me as Trent screamed the word, his anger, desperation, and fear all rolled into one decisive action. The wind whipped my hair, and breathless, I held on as Tulpa shifted direction, cued by Trent’s legs more than my reins. Behind us was a wild howl of frustration. “I thought you said Red was desensitized to magic,” I said, shouting so he could hear me.
“Magic, yes. Explosions, no!” he shouted back, his lips inches from my ear to make me shiver again. “Where did you learn how to pull a rider up like that?”
“The movies?” I said, and he made a sound of disbelief.
We rose up a small hill, easily seeing over the damaged buildings. The wind lessened as Tulpa’s paced eased, and Trent brought him up short as we came to a drop-off. It was the dry bed of the Ohio River, and I stared as Tulpa stood and breathed hard. Down below and about half a mile ahead, a horse raced down the smooth expanse, a dozen surface demons chasing her.
“My magic won’t work that far,” I said, guilt and fear making my stomach churn.
Trent’s weight shifted, and Tulpa took the slope. Trent slid into me, the jostling motion jarring until we found the bottom and he settled back. Again Trent shouted, and Tulpa stretched into a gallop. I hunched low, Trent pressed close. The scent of wine and cinnamon poured over me, and the wind was a wall. I could feel Trent’s tension, and the horse under us beginning to tire. Tulpa was not young—but he had heart.
Heart, though, would not catch Trent’s best mare, not when she ran unfettered with the hounds of hell chasing her.
We weren’t going to catch her, and I could have cried when Trent sat up, murmuring softly to Tulpa to bring the horse down into a slower pace until we stopped, watching Red again become faint with the dusky red and distance.
“Trent, I’m sorry,” I said as Tulpa hung his head and heaved for air under us.
“I’m less than useless,” he said bitterly, turning to see me. “I’ll get off. You can probably catch her if I’m not dragging you down.”
“You!” I exclaimed, then gasped at the sudden and sure tug on the line. Both our eyes shot to where we’d last seen Red. A huge dome of energy had risen, tainted with red and the black of smut. The flailing outlines of surface demons flew through the air. “Newt!” I shouted as I saw her silhouette, arms raised as she screamed defiantly at the surface demons, and then the bubble of energy was gone, the shadow of Red rearing up before she found her feet and ran.
“Newt . . .” I mused, feeling as if Red was going to be okay as I saw Newt run after her. Newt wouldn’t let surface demons touch her. Not if that had been any indication.
“My God, that horse can run,” Trent said, his bitterness tempered with pride. But silver eyes had turned to us, and I stiffened when I realized they were the very demons that Newt had tossed aside. Behind us were even more, and Tulpa was tired, burdened by us.
“Ah, Trent?” I said, pointing, and his expression grew resolute.
“Not quite done, Tulpa,” he said, leaning around me to pat his horse’s neck, and the old stallion made a soft sound as if to say he was up to it. “Nearest line?” he asked me, and I sent out a quick thought, relieved when I found it.
“Up there,” I said, bringing Tulpa around and nudging him into a fast walk. The approaching demons tightened their formation. Tulpa noticed it, too, voluntarily picking up the pace. “I think that’s a path,” I said, and the massive animal lunged forward into the climb. Trent’s arm had gone around me again, and I was increasingly aware that he smelled really, really good despite the burnt-amber stench that permeated everything.
“It’s going to be close,” he said, words a warm breath on my neck.
I snuck a look behind us as Tulpa scrambled up the last of the hill. The surface demons had packed up, but as I watched, they split again, half deciding to run after Newt and Red, the other coming after us, taking the slope as if it was nothing. “You aren’t kidding.”
If I died here, Jenks was going to be pissed. Awareness searching, I found the line again and nudged Tulpa in the right direction. The slumps of rocks were fewer, and the grass more prevalent on this side of the dry river, tall enough to hide a surface demon in the moonlight. Trent’s arm around me tightened. I wanted to kick Tulpa into a run, but the horse was exhausted, head bobbing as he walked fast. His ears kept flicking behind us, listening for pursuit.