Page 38 of Heart and Soul
“Only ten?”
“You’re already wasting time.” She flings open a door to a dark closet, slaps a walkie-talkie into my hand, and walks away.
“In there? Are you kidding?”I step into the closet, where a black iron staircase spirals down through the floor. It’s so dark, I can’t see shit, and the spiral staircase seems never-ending.Clunk, clunk, clunk—step after metal step, I descend into the bowels of the ship. My sensitive ears prick at the sounds of groaning steel from the massive hull pushing through thick, icy water. When at last I reach the bottom, I pause in front of a bulkhead door to gather my confidence. I hadn’t planned on how scary it would be down here. Pitch black and echoing like a cave.
After a deep breath, I knock on the bulkhead. The hatch release spins and the door opens with a deep screech from rusted hinges. When I step through the hatch, I can’t see the whole space because of the darkness, but I canfeelthe vastness of the cargo hold. It feels like I’ve just stepped outside on a dark, moonless night, only there are no stars in the sky, because somewhere up there in the black, three stories above me, is a domed ceiling.
“We’ve been briefed, Agent Davies,” says one of the guards. “We’re at your disposal.”
“Good. Now get the hell out.”
“Yes, ma’am,” they both reply, before filing out and closing the hatch behind them.
Way out there in the middle of the hold is a lone spotlight shining down on a hospital bed, where Arael Moaz lies completely still. The only signs of life are his raspy, labored breaths that fill the chamber with ghostly echoes. I recall what Hillerman told me about the Deep world, which exists in the same space as the real world, but is invisible to our eyes. Is Arael’s horde of Deep minions crowded around him now, climbing over each other to get a look at me? Licking their lips? Pushing into my mind?
My heart hammers a triple beat for each of my footsteps as I approach the bed. Arael’s eyes are open, but they don’t acknowledge me. Looking into the corners of the hold, I see tiny green lights blinking. I bring the walkie-talkie to my lips. “What’s the holdup? I said I want all audio feeds cut. Do it now, or I get every single one of you reassigned to the ogre squad in Buffalo.”
The green lights blink once, then turn red.
“Just you and me, gramps.”
A low, insidious laugh rolls quietly through the chamber. It takes me a moment to realize that it’s coming from Arael’s barely-parted lips. My flesh crawls at the sight of his black eyes set deep into a wrinkled face that wants desperately to slide down his skull into the folds of his neck.
“Wanna tell me the joke?”
“I knew you’d come.” I’m taken aback by his voice, which is strong and clear—not wheezy and frail, like the last time I heard him. “I was hoping it would happen this way. That they’d get to him first, so you’d come to me with a vengeance.”
“Oh, you’re talking about your people going after Brenner last night? Yeah, that didn’t go so well for your team. The silverback got another face full of lead. He won’t be passing through airport security ever again. You’re sounding good, though. I see they’ve spared no expense keeping you alive.” Hooked up to his IV stand are two canisters of glowing orange liquid. I’m guessing it’s some sort of fey elixir meant to extend life. “Pretty harsh, seeing as how all you wanted for Christmas was to die. Now that’ll never happen.”
He scowls. “Neveris a word you are unqualified to use. Understand this. Time is reckoned only by mortals such as yourself. For us, time does not exist. As measured in your finite time, there is no end to the grievance between you and me, see? There is only one end, and that is with death to you and yours. It could be tomorrow, or next year, or ten years from now, when you’re tucking little ones into bed. My horde doesn’t ever sleep, nor do their memories ever fade, nor do they ever grow weary of vendetta. Until your suffering is complete, a hundred years would not end it. A thousand years would not end it.”
“How about a million years? I’d have to think that amillion years…I mean, c’mon.”
Arael blinks, and an exasperated sigh hisses through his lips. A part of my pride is tickled to know that my powers of annoyance extend even to demon horde masters.
“But look, I’m not here to talk about me. I’m here to talk about my job”—I glance at the tiny lights again, to make sure they’re still red—“which is to take you back into FUA custody, because I no longer trust the loyalties of Special Agent Hillerman. I know she’s one of you.”
At last, Arael’s gaze moves. His dead shark eyes latch onto mine.
“I know she’s not from your horde,” I elaborate, “but still.”
“She belongs to no horde.”
“Either way.”
“Either way,” he parrots, “you see the hypocrisy in it.”
“Oh, she’ll be dealt with, trust me. But right now I need you to tell me how it works. If she’s possessed by some demon, is she also still herself? Is the real Charlotte still in there somewhere?”
“Why would I tell you anything about it?”
“Simple. You scratch my back, I kill you in the face.”
His eyes gleam. “You would kill me?”
“It’s my New Year’s resolution.” I pull my jacket back at the waist, revealing the handgun on my hip.
“I couldn’t tell you what you want to know.”
