Vanzir was glancing around. “Shut up until we know if we were spotted.” He motioned for us to hide behind the nearest outcropping of rocks and I immediately obeyed, motioning for Roman’s vamps to follow me. Trillian and Vanzir began to scout around, and I realized they fit here—Vanzir more than Trillian—but they had gone into a mode that felt perfectly suited for this place. Cautious and edgy, on high alert.
As we waited, I began to feel like we were being watched. Nervously, I glanced over my shoulder, up to the high rock shelf above us. The clouds and the illumination made everything appear in silhouette—dim and hard to see the details, but I had the feeling there was something moving around up there. I crouched down and began to work my way toward Vanzir. Before I could go farther than a few feet, however, there was a noise as figures leaped down, falling a good twenty feet to land at our backs.
Immediately, I was on my feet, battle-ax raised. Vanzir and Trillian had turned and Shade and the vamps had weapons poised. But a guttural laugh stopped us, as Trytian slid out from the shadows with a group of four daemons behind him.
Trytian was dressed in camo—red and rust and brown and black, which worked like a charm. He looked terribly harsh here, in his native element, and his buddies, while they could pass for human, obviously weren’t. There was an edge to them that whispered Do Not Fuck With.
“You’re lucky it was us.” Trytian glanced over at the Demon Gate. “You found somebody who knows what he’s doing, though. I’ll give you that. That gate won’t be easy to take down, if anybody manages to find it.”
Vanzir crossed to him and the two, arms raised, clasped hands in the air as if they were about to arm-wrestle. After a solid shake, they let go.
“Were you able to find out anything else?” Vanzir asked.
Trytian gave us a brief nod, his gaze focusing on me. “I found out where they’re keeping the werepuma. There’s a detention center about seven miles from here by foot. She’s there. I would have given you coordinates that were closer, but once you get a few miles in, the place is swarming with Shadow Wing’s soldiers. It’s not a full encampment, but there’s enough coming and going that I think they might have a good chance of noticing the Demon Gate. We’ll go in via a roundabout way. I know a back path that leads up to the detention center. There will still be a few guards, but I have a feeling we’re going to face far fewer that way.”
A wave of relief washed over me. “You’re going with us?”
“Hell yes. Anything to muck up Shadow Wing’s plans. My father knows nothing about this little operation, but he put me in charge of causing as much mayhem as possible to trip up the enemy.”
I laughed then, softly so my voice wouldn’t carry. “The Great Escape.”
“What?” The daemon looked clueless.
“Movie. Steve McQueen starred in it. One of the characters—Bartlett—said, ‘What my personal feelings are is of no importance. You appointed me Big X. And it’s my duty to harass, confound, and confuse the enemy to the best of my ability.’ It reminds me of that.”
A spark flickered in Trytian’s eyes. “Exactly. You understand. Rescuing your wife will do just that. So I’m taking on the job.”
“Then you lead.” I found a sudden faith in the daemon. He hated Shadow Wing, and so did we. Common enemy, common goals.
Trytian arranged us so that he and one of his party—Lokail—were at the front. After them, came Vanzir and me, then Shade and Trillian, then Roman’s vamps. After that were the other three daemons. Which made our party fourteen strong. We were all dressed in clothing that was essentially camouflage. Vanzir had a red baseball hat on, which covered the shock of blond hair. Trillian had braided his hair and he, too, now slipped on a black bandanna, tying it below the braid, to hide the shining silvery-blue highlights. Shade reached down, caught up a handful of the red sandy soil beneath our feet, and streaked it through his amber hair. My own hair was camo enough, and the daemons had dark or reddish-dark hair. None of Roman’s vamps were light-haired, so we were good to go.
We started out, Trytian cautiously leading us through the maze of rocks that jutted upward from the floor of the Sub-Realms. A surreal desert, it made me think of the deep Southern Wastes of Otherworld, where rogue magic mingled into the dust clouds, wandering the vast dunes. The hoodoos towered into the air, harsh, jutting fingers of rock spreading out like a forest of stone trees. Rough and running brown to deep rust, their tops jaggedly slashed the sky above us.
Two rows behind me, Ron whispered, “This reminds me of Bryce Canyon in the Moab desert. You can get lost in there and never find your way out.”
I glanced around, wondering if the Sub-Realms looked this way all the way through. Finally, I tapped Vanzir on the shoulder. “Is every place here like this?” My voice, even though I kept it low, felt like it echoed around me, ricocheting from rock to rock.