Part 52 (1/2)
”You can beat this thing, right?”
”Sure.”
Kris' eyes widened and she stepped back, breaking the heat between them. ”You don't know, do you?”
”Look, I'm the most powerful Keeper in the lineage right now, and Claire's already closed this thing down once. Anything's possible, so all we have to do is find the right possibility. Which we won't find standing here.” Taking a deep breath, she added a little more distance between them. ”Let's go.”
By the time they reached the alcove where they'd been chained, they could hear the distant sound of pursuit behind them.
”I guess it's stopped arguing,” Diana muttered as they began running faster.
”You mean they've stopped arguing.”
”No. The guy from the throne room is a Shadowlord, as much a shadow of h.e.l.l as the a.s.sa.s.sin; just bit more formed, is all.”
”h.e.l.l was arguing with itself?”
”It's a thing it does. It doesn't get out much.”
”And that's good, right?”
Diana shot a quick, disbelieving glance at the elf. ”Generally speaking, yeah.” They took a small flight of stairs two steps at a time. ”This also explains why the Shadowlord thought I should know him and why he lacks a name. Bits of h.e.l.l don't get names until they've really distinguished themselves in some truly disgusting way.”
”So Jerry Springer's pretty much a gimme?”
”Pretty much, yeah.”
They were running between walls of dressed stone now. Walls that had been built rather than carved out of the bedrock. They were very close to the throne room.
”Good thing ... the torches are still . . . lit,” Kris panted.
”Yeah. They're lit... because I expect them to ... be. We need them ... to get out of here.”
”Wouldn't h.e.l.l ... know that?”
”Probably. But I don't . . . think it has direct influence . . . this far out yet.”
Between the time her right foot rose and she brought it under her body, ready to stretch it out front once again, the torches went out.
”Of course, I could be wrong.”
The bedroom was dark when Austin woke. The day just pa.s.sed had grown overcast, although no cooler, and that overcast had lasted into the night, blocking starlight and moonlight and, very nearly, streetlight. Eye open the merest slit, he could see Dean's darker-on-dark silhouette on the other pillow and not much else, but he knew they weren't alone. Something stood beside the bed.
Something satisfied . . .
He sprang without warning, over Dean and off the edge of the bed. So positive that his claws would connect with linen bandages, he was taken completely by surprise when he hit the floor.
And was blinded an instant later.
”Austin?” One hand on the switch for the bedside lamp, Dean blinked down at the cat. ”What's the matter, then?”