Free Hunting in Hell by Maria Violante Page B

turned to look back at the other two.
    The Mademoiselle glowed with a deathly pallor.   Her hair and clothes clung to her body with a slick coating of sweat.   As if sensing De la Roca's concern, Laufeyson nodded.   "I will take care of her."
    "Aren't you coming?"   De la Roca was stunned.   Somehow, she had thought the fool would surely accompany her.
    "I cannot!"
    The Mademoiselle fell backwards, and the frozen whirlpool collapsed.
    De la Roca had just enough time to scream, "Alsvior, light!" before it engulfed them.

 
    Twelve
     

     
    T he water was gone.  
    The room, if it could properly be called such, was warm.   By the flickering glow of Alsvior's mane and tail, she could just make out the narrow walls and a floor of hewn stone.   The ceiling directly above glittered with blue reflections, and she realized that this was the water, held back with an unknown force, frozen above her.   The stone in her stomach awakened with a slow pulse, responding to a power she could not yet sense.
    The demon must be close, then.
    She drew her weapons cautiously and began her inspection.
    To her side, she noticed a dark spot where the light did not reach.   She closed her eyes and could feel the faintest touch of a breeze upon her face.  
    An exit.
    She spun her hand in a circle once, the hand signal for "turn around." Even in the low light, Alsvior caught her meaning.   He rotated himself slowly, deliberately, taking care in the narrow space.   She got the feeling that her mount was uneasy.
    She didn't blame him.   It was hard enough keeping her own claustrophobia at bay.  
    After a final glance above, she oriented herself toward the darkened hole and peered into it.   The walls were barely wide enough to accommodate her form without touching either side.   For Alsvior, even as a miniature horse, it was impossible to proceed without grazing his sides on the stone.  
    Trusting his senses more than her own, she tapped him once on the back, and he entered the darkness.   She followed him, one armed hand on his saddle-horn, facing behind to guard the rear.   After a few more steps, the walls abruptly fell away.   They had entered a much wider room.
    He whickered once, but she had already spun around to face their new companion.
    It was suspended in the air, its wings flapping noiselessly.   Alsvior brightened his flames, and the rays bounced off of the shimmering feathers, diffracting onto the cave walls in a kaleidoscopic mesh of golds, greens, and reds.   The bejeweled peacock was massive.   A single feather, longer than her leg, floated from its tail to the ground and turned to ash.  
    Welcome .  
    The voice, distinctly male, had spoken directly into her mind.   With his words, the stone in her belly pulsed hard, and she felt Bluot tremble in response.
    His eyes sparkled in the light, their facets as clearly cut as a jeweler's stone.   With a languid flourish, he raised his tail, opening it into a giant fan.   De la Roca was riveted; she tried to raise her guns further, but her arms, suddenly heavy, refused to respond.  
    The feathers blinked once with an eerie light, the iridescent eyes glowing like burning coals.   Each one was a tiny, circular dream, an image from her life.   Many were of her kills, but there also scenes she couldn't remember, from Hell—and before.
    Go ahead, kill me.  
    Her arms jerked up, somehow free from the spell that had overtaken the rest of her body, but her interest held her fingers back from squeezing the triggers.
    But then you will never find answers, not from me, not from my brother.
    De la Roca glanced at Alsvior.   He stared into the feathers, entranced, and she wondered what memories he saw depicted there.  
    "Perhaps I don't want answers," she growled, facing the demon again.   "Perhaps I just want freedom."
    Are you sure about that?  
    The demon flapped closer, and in the tail-feather's eyes, she could see herself holding an infant, their faces wreathed in