CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
It took longer than expected to pack up their files, though a lot less time to gather Hero’s possessions; her diminished wardrobe was easily stuffed into a duffel along with a spare cane and jaunty hat.
Still, dawn was a good two hours away when they took to the alleys on the return trip to Otherside.
Somehow, today had bled into tomorrow with no end in sight.
Keen felt exhaustion creeping into his limbs beneath the adrenaline still coursing through him.
He was keyed up for a fight and so far all they’d done was sneak around town.
They put the tongue in a small box – it was their best piece of evidence, after all, and the remains of a Celestial nun – and added it to the files detailing Virchow’s findings, the location of the substances locked in the consecrated coffer at the precinct, and an accusation of murder against Abigail Hollander.
All this they gathered into a fat satchel Keen looped over his shoulder.
Hero had a plan for what to do with it, but she hadn’t filled him in on it yet, merely given him a sly grin when he asked for details.
“Trust me, Keen, it’s a good idea,” she said. “And I’m sure she’ll go along with it.”
“Who?” he’d demanded, and had gotten only another sly look for his trouble.
They’d skirted Clementine Prep on the way back to Otherside, so Keen could show her the growing shadows engulfing the place. Hero had been unsurprised, and not a little gratified at the sight.
“Clementine is under the See of the Celestial Order of the Shield. Traditionally, they are a battle order in the fight against Pandemonium. If I were planning to summon an ancient demon from the depths of Hell, I’d compromise my biggest threat, too.
Either they allowed the corruption inside this place – called it, even – or they are innocent victims. We will know once the shield is gone. ”
“How will we know?”
“By seeing which side they choose.”
That hadn’t exactly soothed Keen. “How do we know they’ll even pick a side? Why not stay safe inside their walls?”
“Oh, you poor, naive demonhunter. When we kick this particular hornets’ nest, only the dead will be able to avoid choosing sides.”
With that pleasant thought, they’d slunk through the silent town like a pair of alley cats, avoiding any possible witnesses, until they finally crossed the tracks into Otherside.
All appeared peaceful in the autumn chill.
Shivering, Keen readjusted the satchel over his shoulder and hurried to stay abreast of his partner.
It probably hadn’t been necessary to go with her, but he’d take anything to keep himself distracted, to keep him from feeling the shudder of his saber against his palm as he stabbed it into Dirk, from hearing the sickening scrape of metal against bone and from seeing Abigail’s ecstatic expression as she ripped out Catarine’s tongue–
Keen shuddered, his mind shying away from the memory – Dirk’s memory, a vision of the past.
Or a lie. Like Jerry’s false memories. How can Hero even know the difference anymore? We don’t even understand what we’re up against.
Devourer. Darkness manifested. Rising…
He couldn’t believe Abigail was a willing participant in this evil, regardless of what he’d made Hero think. As long as he had even an inkling of doubt, he couldn’t completely condemn Abigail Primm, the girl he’d loved with a hopeless devotion.
But even his own mother didn’t trust her. Was he a blind fool? Or was he the only one who saw clearly?
Keep your focus. His hand tightened on the strap of the satchel as a stiff wind kicked down the street and tugged at his clothes. No matter what you may face.
“I’m ready,” he murmured softly, too low for even Hero’s sharp ears.
And he really, truly believed that he – Demonhunter First Rank Oleander Keen – was ready for anything. He’d gone up against entire nests of demons, sent the denizens of Pandemonium back into that terrible place broken and denied.
Certainly, he’d made a few mistakes here and there, but didn’t everyone in his line of work?
Every good peacekeeper in the Realm made missteps, false assumptions and slip-ups.
Even the famed death speaker Hero Viridian made mistakes.
Keen wasn’t any different, any better, but he was confident, self-assured – even now, with an innocent man’s death on his hands.
Even with the doubt about Abigail wriggling in his heart, he was ready to face anything.
But DH Keen was not ready for what came next: the smell of smoke as they crossed into Otherside, or the flames leaping skyward over the shingled roofs.
He wasn’t ready for the wild stab of fear through his gut, the sudden certainty that it was his house on fire.
A paralyzing terror stopped him dead in the street.
“No,” was the only word he could summon – a horrified, hollow sound – before he cast aside the satchel and broke into a run.
By the time he reached the end of Sycamore Street, there were flames shooting from the bedroom windows on the second floor. He lunged up the front steps, barely noticing the searing heat as he grasped the brass door handle and hauled open the door–
–only to be driven back by a wall of flame. He flung an arm across his face and stumbled back down the steps.
“Mama!” he screamed. He inhaled for another scream and choked on burning air. Someone grabbed his arm, dragging him away from the conflagration. “No,” he tried to say, but it was a croak. “My mother – my mother is in there.”
“I know.”
Viridian. Keen blinked ash and tears from his eyes, trying to focus on his partner. She was blurred, and not only from the smoke; cold blue flames surrounded her, a nimbus of rippling light. She turned her eyes on him, the crimson flames unshielded, now swirling with cobalt streaks. “Stay. Here.”
Then she was gone, bounding up the stairs and through the flames without hesitation.
Keen tried to follow, ignoring her order, but again the heat drove him back.
He wheezed, any exposed skin stinging, the tears on his cheeks evaporating as fast as they fell.
His heart felt lodged in his throat and his chest was tight.
It hurt to breathe yet he wanted to scream.
His Mama. She couldn’t… She had to be all right!
The sound of shattering glass and cracking wood drifted from the house.
Somewhere inside, something heavy crashed to the ground.
The roar of the flames peaked. Another crash – this time from above – and a dark, misshapen figure burst from an upper-story window, dragging glass and splinters with them as they leapt in a graceful arc to the ground.
A blanket-wrapped bundle was clutched huddled in its arms, smoke rising from the patched cloth.
Keen dashed to his partner, his mind blank with panic.
He grabbed at the quilt, taking the burden from Hero.
A weak cough emerged from the blanket, along with his mother, soot-stained and disheveled.
He clasped her to him, too thankful to form words, shaky with relief.
His mother could only cough helplessly, though she did manage to pat his back.
Behind her, Hero had returned to normal, the strange blue flames having dissipated. Her narrow face was streaked with ash and soot had darkened her silver hair. A hard frown bent her face and rage sparkled in her fiery eyes. She spun back around to stare at the burning house, shoulders quivering.
“No fair,” she said, voice harsh. “That’s my trick! They go too far!”
The clanging of alarm bells sounded in the distance.
Finally, the bastards. Keen grimaced, drawing his mother into the crook of his arm, and stared at their burning house, now fully engulfed at this point.
Whoever had done this had waited until they were certain the fire was out of control before sounding an alarm.
They’d thought to catch him asleep in his bed.
Maybe they’d even expected Inspector Viridian to be inside the house, too.
He snorted. Imagine, trying to kill a demon with fire!
“We have to get out of here,” he said, counting the seconds in his head, imagining PK fire volunteers loading into their wagons. “They’ll take us in for questioning. Maybe even blame us for this, somehow.”
Hero didn’t argue. She turned to them and reached out. “Give her to me,” she ordered.
“I’m strong enough to carry my own mother, Viridian!”
“I don’t need carrying,” his mother said, watching her home of thirty years burn with a blank face. “My friend Vera’s out of town,” she said, sounding a bit vague, but her words made Hero smile.
“Very good, Ruth. Very good. Lead the way, if you please…”