The Undead Pool

“You!” I exclaimed, then gasped at the sudden and sure tug on the line. Both our eyes shot to where we’d last seen Red. A huge dome of energy had risen, tainted with red and the black of smut. The flailing outlines of surface demons flew through the air. “Newt!” I shouted as I saw her silhouette, arms raised as she screamed defiantly at the surface demons, and then the bubble of energy was gone, the shadow of Red rearing up before she found her feet and ran.

“Newt . . .” I mused, feeling as if Red was going to be okay as I saw Newt run after her. Newt wouldn’t let surface demons touch her. Not if that had been any indication.

“My God, that horse can run,” Trent said, his bitterness tempered with pride. But silver eyes had turned to us, and I stiffened when I realized they were the very demons that Newt had tossed aside. Behind us were even more, and Tulpa was tired, burdened by us.

“Ah, Trent?” I said, pointing, and his expression grew resolute.

“Not quite done, Tulpa,” he said, leaning around me to pat his horse’s neck, and the old stallion made a soft sound as if to say he was up to it. “Nearest line?” he asked me, and I sent out a quick thought, relieved when I found it.

“Up there,” I said, bringing Tulpa around and nudging him into a fast walk. The approaching demons tightened their formation. Tulpa noticed it, too, voluntarily picking up the pace. “I think that’s a path,” I said, and the massive animal lunged forward into the climb. Trent’s arm had gone around me again, and I was increasingly aware that he smelled really, really good despite the burnt-amber stench that permeated everything.

“It’s going to be close,” he said, words a warm breath on my neck.

I snuck a look behind us as Tulpa scrambled up the last of the hill. The surface demons had packed up, but as I watched, they split again, half deciding to run after Newt and Red, the other coming after us, taking the slope as if it was nothing. “You aren’t kidding.”

If I died here, Jenks was going to be pissed. Awareness searching, I found the line again and nudged Tulpa in the right direction. The slumps of rocks were fewer, and the grass more prevalent on this side of the dry river, tall enough to hide a surface demon in the moonlight. Trent’s arm around me tightened. I wanted to kick Tulpa into a run, but the horse was exhausted, head bobbing as he walked fast. His ears kept flicking behind us, listening for pursuit.

“It’s a pretty big line,” I said, trying to ignore the sensations that were plinking through me as I sat before Trent. “I’m going to walk the length with Tulpa. I’ve never shifted three auras before. This is going to be tricky without Bis.”

Tricky, but not impossible, I thought as I closed my eyes and brought my second sight up. A sigh of relief went through me as I saw the line. But the grass was moving contrary to the wind. Tulpa noticed too, and the horse snorted, his feet lifting a little higher. If we could just get across, the church was only a few blocks away.

“Ah, Trent?” I said.

“I see it . . .” he said tersely. “You sure you can’t do this at a run?”

“No?” I squeaked out, heart pounding as the line took us. The surface demons hooted, and I closed my eyes, desperately shifting all three of our auras to the resonance of the line. Tulpa nickered, and a shudder passed through me. The awful wind died, and I took a breath, my eyelids cracking open when Tulpa stopped. The howling of the surface demons muted, dulled, and then renewed into the more mundane alarm of a cop car. We were home.

“Thank you,” Trent breathed, and the tack jingled as the horse dropped his head, nosing the mown grass as if wanting to roll in it. We’d made it back, but we’d lost Red.

We were in someone’s backyard, fenced on two sides, with low shrubs separating it from the yard over. There was an inground pool, the soft lights making reflective patterns on the undersides of the trees. It belonged to a witch, I was guessing, by the flowers arranged in an antihex circle by the back door.

“Good boy,” Trent said as Tulpa clip-clopped over the decking to get a drink. “Lots of treats for you tonight.”

Feeling icky, I looked up at the sky. It was just as red as the ever-after, the low clouds hiding the moon and reflecting the emergency lights and fires in the Hollows. The scent of burning furniture had replaced the acidic bite of burnt amber. It was quiet here, but a street over I could hear someone on a bullhorn shouting half-heard demands and the dull thumps of a drum. All hell was breaking loose. Inderlanders didn’t take well to being cordoned off.

“Let’s get to the church,” I said, reluctant to dismount, and from inside the house, a light flicked on. Tulpa lifted his head, prickly lips dripping. A door slammed open, and a dark silhouette showed, a wand at the ready. An outside light blossomed, and I squinted at the bright white light, my night vision completely ruined.