Kiya’s no fan of travelling by portal. Unfortunately, that’s all we’ve done for the last hour as Walker tries to find the Walls of Hell, which are somewhere in the Plains of Fire. It wasn’t easy to talk him into helping us, but Walker gave in once he realized that we’d find another ghoul if he didn’t agree.
Within the pitch darkness, a tall door-shaped rectangle of crimson light appears. Somehow, Walker aims our whirling bodies toward the portal’s exit. Together, we somersault out the opened door-hole and onto a scorching hot stretch of sand. Waves of stifling heat envelop my body. A foul, oily smell assaults my senses.
We’re here. At the Plains of Fire. Again.
I slowly rise to my feet and look around. We’ve emerged in a low desert valley surrounded by stepped plateaus, spouts of fire, and burned-out brush. My tail pounds my thigh in frustration. There’s no wall anywhere in sight.
“Why are these things called Plains again?” I groan. “This place is basically a valley. And the last spot we hit was downright mountainous.”
Walker chuckles, low and soft. “My dear Myla-la, why would the name of the lands surrounding Hell be anything but misleading?”
Okay, he has a point.
Kiya tightens his death-grip on my earlobe while chatting angrily away at high-speed. I pet his back in soothing strokes. “Sorry, we didn’t find it this time, friend.”
Friend.
That’s what Nefer had called Kiya and I’m quickly learning why that’s the perfect term to describe my little critter. From his perch on my shoulder, Kiya lets out a never-ending stream of excited chitters, screeches and growls. No question about it. If I were trapped in a prison cell for two hundred years, I’d definitely want Kiya with me.
Lincoln brushes the sand off his black body armor and then sets down his massive backpack. Good idea, honey. I do the same. This crazy-heavy sack will be no-fun to drag through Hell, but we can’t count on finding any water coolers or takeout menus. We’ve also packed ourselves flare guns and an all-purpose death potion, if the need arises. I actively try not to think about that part.
“I’ll check for look-out points on the plateau,” says Lincoln. He jogs off, scoping out the landscape as he goes.
Kiya watches him leave, launching into a fresh round of grumbles while gesturing wildly at Walker.
That’s one angry monkey.
“Come now, Kiya.” I say soothingly. “Walker’s trying his best. He needs a little more direction from you, that’s all.”
With a high-pitched chirp, Kiya leaps down from my shoulder and walk-gallops across the desert floor, yammering madly as he paces around in circles. Small puffs of dust appear behind him with the movement. After a minute, he pauses and points toward the southwest.
Walker steps up to my side. “Let me guess. He wants us to go in that direction, eh?”
“Wow. It’s like you speak monkey.”
Lincoln jogs back to join our group. “I’ve scoped out the surrounding area. Unfortunately, I think we’re a long way from the Walls of Hell.”
“If you had to guess, how far would you say we are?”
“Five leagues to the southwest.”
I punch him gently in the upper arm. I knew he’d nail it. Lincoln’s spent years hunting and tracking his ass across every terrain there is. “That’s what Kiya said, too. Well, just the southwest part.” I rub my palms together. “We better give it another try. What do you say, Walker?”
“Uh, how about we take a break?” Walker stares guiltily at his colorless hands. “We’ve been at it for an hour now. You must be tired. Maybe we could portal back to the Dark Lands for something to eat?”
“Walker,” I say with a sigh. “We’ve been over this already. Lincoln and I are not going back to the Dark Lands to tell Xavier what we’re doing.”
“This isn’t right,” explains Walker. “Your father took me in and trained me when no one would consider me anything but a ghoul.”
“You’re part Aquilinean, same as me,” says Lincoln. “As part of the bloodline of the archangel Aquila, you were never just any ghoul.”
“No one else saw it that way. I owe Xavier. It feels wrong to secret off his daughter to Hell without letting him know.”
“Not a chance, Walker. If I talk to Dad, he’ll just try to railroad me into war. That won’t save Maxon. Not really.” I poke him on his bony shoulder. “If Lincoln and I can rescue our boy before he’s seriously tortured by Armageddon, then we have to try. And we can’t afford to waste time while Dad attempts to talk us out of this. Every second we wait, Maxon’s at risk. Hildy’s protection could run out at any second.”
Walker rubs his sideburns anxiously. “It would only take an hour.”
“No, Walker, and that’s final. Now open the damn portal or go home.” Worry spikes through my belly and I glance at my wrist. Inside the Looking Glass, Maxon leans against the prison wall, knees pulled against his chest, sobbing quietly.
“See this?” I thrust the image into Walker’s face. “My child is trapped and I will save him, make no mistake.”