Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
The ride was not pleasurable. I held on for dear life to Shitty Ritchie with one hand and a handlebar with the other.
My passenger screamed more profanities than I knew existed.
If the probability of decapitation by tree limb wasn’t such a distinct possibility, I would have whacked the tiny dude in the head.
The motorcycles travelled at speeds that would get us locked up most places in the civilized world.
However, we were not in the civilized world. Not even close.
“Holy fuck buckets,” Candy Vargo snarled as she ducked when her motorbike went under a massive low hanging branch.
If Candy lost her head we were done. She was the only one who could reattach that particular body part.
“Hold on tight, friends,” Tim yelled over the roar of the engines. “We’re almost to wherever we’re going. I can feel Jennifer. We’re close.”
I took the risk of glancing over at Gideon. He was the only one of us that hadn’t sworn or screamed during the entire hour we’d been careening through the Higher Power’s plane. He glanced over at me. His lips were tight and thin, and worry etched every beautiful line on his face.
“I don’t feel her,” he shouted, giving me a pleading look. “Tell me you feel Alana Catherine.”
I didn’t. I didn’t feel her at all. Why couldn’t I feel her?
She was my child. Was she dead? No. I refused to entertain that horrible thought.
It Tim could feel his daughter, why couldn’t I feel mine?
Why couldn’t Gideon? Had Alana Catherine and Jennifer been separated?
It was the only option I was willing to entertain.
My heart lodged in my throat. Speaking wasn’t going to work.
I’d burst into tears if I tried. I shook my head at Gideon.
“No,” I mouthed.
He swore violently, but stayed focused on the terrain ahead.
“Shitty Ritchie,” I said, covering his little body with mine as long blades of dead grass whipped at us. My arms were sliced and bleeding—even through the leather jacket I wore. I barely felt it. I was too worried. “Can you feel Jennifer?”
“Yes! Shitty Ritchie can feel Jennifer.”
“And Alana Catherine?” I asked.
Shitty Ritchie began to cry. “No. Shitty Ritchie does not feel Alana Catherine.”
“Fuck,” I snarled, stepping on the gas pedal and trying to make the motorcycle go faster.
It didn’t work. We were not in charge. The machines underneath us were. If this was the Fonzies’ doing, I would have a few stern words and copious amounts of electrocutions in store the next time we met up with them.
However, at the warp speed we were travelling, I wasn’t sure we’d live to see anyone again.
The beautiful fields that Candy Vargo had imagined for us disappeared.
There were no more wild flowers or bunnies or birds.
The fields had turned to a dense and decaying forest. Barren branches of enormous trees reached out in anger trying to knock us off the bikes.
It felt as if we were tunneling into another time—a dark and evil time.
It was a place devoid of joy or life. Not a single bird or anything with a heartbeat would make its home in this desolate wasteland.
The motorcycles came to a halt as abruptly as they’d roared to life. Candy Vargo was thrown over the handlebars of her bike. Tim’s bike landed on top of him. Shitty Ritchie was launched into a tree. I flew forward and landed on top of Candy. Gideon was the only one still seated on his bike.
“What the hell do you weigh?” Candy Vargo grunted, shoving me off of her head.
I didn’t answer. Crawling to my feet, I sprinted to the base of the tree that Shitty Ritchie was hanging from. I wasn’t sure how alive these trees were. They looked dead, but appearances were deceiving. Life was so upside down I wouldn’t be surprised if the trees tried to eat us.
“Jump to me,” I shouted at the tiny dude. “I’ll catch you.”
Shitty Ritchie screamed like a scaredy cat watching a slasher movie, then launched himself out of the tree with so much force, I hit the ground hard when he landed in my arms. Whatever.
I needed him safe. He was safe. My butt was another story.
Too bad, so sad. A little pain in the ass wouldn’t stop me—so many puns intended.
Tim got to his feet with effort and ushered all of us to him. Placing one finger over his lips to indicate silence, he pointed to a cave about two hundred feet ahead.
“She’s in there,” he whispered.
“Alone?” Gideon questioned tightly. “Is Alana Catherine with her? Is Chamuel?”
Tim shook his head. “I don’t know. I can only feel Jennifer.”
I glanced over at Gideon. His eyes were pinned on the cave and his expression was murderous. No, we couldn’t feel our daughter, but it didn’t mean she wasn’t in there. Going on assumptions would be a mistake. Fury and emotion made one sloppy. We didn’t have the luxury of being sloppy.
Placing my hand on Gideon’s shoulder, I squeezed. I wasn’t gentle. It was pointed and intense. “Don’t go there,” I said. “Stay in the present. If she’s in there, that will be wonderful. If she’s not, we’ll find her.”
His eyes shot to mine. There was so much pain in his gaze, my breath caught in my throat. “We should feel her,” he whispered harshly. “She’s our flesh and blood. If she was in there, we would know.”
I couldn’t disagree, but I refused to let it dictate how we moved forward. “One moment at a time. If we get ahead of ourselves, we’ll miss something important.”
The Grim Reaper nodded jerkily and touched my cheek. “We will find her.”
“We will find her,” I repeated firmly as if saying it made it true.
Shitty Ritchie sniffed the air. He walked in a circle and continued to inhale deeply. We watched him with curiosity. After a good two minutes, he appeared satisfied.
“Cheese Dick isn’t here right now,” he told us. “The fucker was here, but not anymore.” He pointed to the mouth of the cave. “Jennifer is in there. Shitty Ritchie can feel that she isn’t good.”
Tim, usually mild mannered and kind, was enraged. His skin took on an eerie bluish glow and his eyes narrowed dangerously. Pulling out a sword and a razor-sharp dagger, he nodded at us to follow him. He wasn’t fucking around.
We all pulled weapons and quietly filed in behind.
Our footsteps were silent as we moved forward.
I noticed Shitty Ritchie opening and closing his mouth.
The little freak was prepping to eat someone.
In any other case, I’d electrocute him. Not today.
If he was hungry, Cheese Dick would be a nice snack.
Chamuel wasn’t his to end, though. The Higher Power, who at one time represented compassion, was for Jennifer to destroy.
She wasn’t a fighter. That had been established.
My stomach cramped to the point of pain as I tried to work out a scenario where Jennifer could kill. My brain couldn’t get there.
Shit.
If Chamuel wasn’t here, there was a chance we could get Jennifer out and deal with Chamuel at a later time. It wasn’t perfect, but it was better than nothing. With every fiber of my being, I wished that we’d trained Jennifer to fight. Hindsight was twenty-twenty. Real time was sucking ass.
Tim was in the lead. Shitty Ritchie walked beside him. Candy Vargo was on their heels. I was behind Candy and Gideon brought up the rear. He walked backwards to make sure nothing snuck up on us from behind.
“It stinks in here,” Candy whispered as we entered the cave.
I’d thought the forest was awful. It had nothing on the cave. The path was narrow and littered with bones—animal and human. It was dark and dank, but Immortals could see clearly without light. Crude drawings of war and death were scrawled on the walls. The vibes in this place were sad and tragic.
A dim light ahead was where we were headed. Even I could feel Jennifer’s presence now. But… there was no hint at all of my daughter. I pushed my hysteria aside. If Jennifer was the only one here, she was the priority. Period. We get her to safety and then go after Alana Catherine.
“Stay low,” Tim said softly. “There are ancient animals above us.”
I swallowed my gasp. I hadn’t even thought to look up.
When I did, I wished I hadn’t. The word animal wasn’t quite right.
I’d never seen anything like the bird-snake looking things that were slithering on the ceiling of the cave.
There had to be at least fifty of the messed up looking creatures staring down at us.
Many had far more than two eyes. I counted ten eyes on the one up ahead.
And teeth… there were plenty of those as sharp as the daggers we carried.
“What the actual fuck?” Candy Vargo grunted as she glanced up. “I ain’t never seen nothing like them abominations.”
“Zamirs,” Gideon said. “I’ve seen them in the Darkness. Generally harmless, but don’t engage.”
“The word Zamir is also a name,” Tim whispered. “Often associated with music, melody and inner moral reflection.”
I shuddered. The animals, for lack of a more appropriate word, didn’t look like they had much inner moral reflection. They looked hungry to me.
“I can eat them,” Shitty Ritchie offered.
“Let’s leave that to a last resort move,” I told him. “But thank you.”
“Roger that,” Shitty Ritchie said. “Shitty Ritchie is rather full with Goober in my bowels, but Shitty Ritchie thinks it would be amusing if Goober had to deal with a few zamirs.”
His sense of humor was warped, but the thought of Hemah hanging out with zamirs was kind of funny.