CHAPTER FIVE
hell
The cold sank into Lucian’s bones as he entered Hell and closed the Gate. The Possessors slammed against his consciousness. Cheated of their opportunity in Woerld, they sought entry into his mind. He drove them off as he would gnats and surveyed Hell’s landscape. Steel would be useless here so he slipped the strap of Matthew’s sword over his shoulder to free his left hand.
He noted with some dread an open pit behind him. He had no way of knowing the hole’s depth, nor did he hazard a guess as to what might lie in wait at the bottom. He had no desire to find out.
Light flashed overhead and he glimpsed the girl running toward him, her blind stare glazed with fear. As fast as she was moving, she wouldn’t be long in reaching him. There had to be a way to stop her without injuring her. His dark clothing shadowed him in the twilight and calling out might startle her into changing direction. If she switched course, he’d never catch her.
A minor tremor shook the ground, and Lucian glanced over his shoulder. Dust and gravel rolled into the pit. The vibration ceased almost as soon as it began.
When Lucian turned again, the girl was upon him. He barely had time to throw his arm around her waist as she shot past. With her shriek in his ear, he caught the pivot on his good leg and they spun. The speed of her forward motion caused them to slide. He dug his cane deep into the loose grit, finding purchase at the last second to jerk them to a stop. Her feet hung over the emptiness of the hole. She must have realized her predicament, because rather than fight him, she clenched his arm in a death grip and whimpered.
Their hearts pounded in time with their panic as he maneuvered them by slow, steady inches away from the pit until he felt safe enough to set her down. The child trembled so violently her teeth chattered. She refused to release his arm. He knelt beside her and set his cane down so he could gently rub her back. Her fingers dug through his layers of sleeves to pinch his forearm.
Her eyes were glazed and he feared she would withdraw into herself to become catatonic. Without thinking, Lucian cupped the back of her head with his palm and lowered his head until their brows touched. He paused. What if by calming the girl, he caused her to become like Catarina, so that she relied on him to soothe her every anxiety?
Lucian pulled away from her. No. This child’s mind couldn’t comprehend what she’d seen. She needed help or she would be lost to the Katharoi forever. This was a necessary healing. He pressed his brow against hers and concentrated on her mind until he felt his soul connect with hers.
A jolt went through him, and he knew her name. Lindsay Richardson. The only other time he had felt like this was when John first touched him and he had immediately known John’s name. Lucian remembered how John had given him the knowledge necessary to communicate in Woerld through their initial contact. How he had bound their souls together and offered Lucian his love while shielding him from the harsher realities of Woerld.
Lucian couldn’t overwhelm the girl, but she needed to know Golanian and Ra’ananian in order to communicate with him. Nor could he open his heart and soul to her as a true Elder would. The Citadel Council would never allow an outcast such as him to be her Elder. For Lucian to bind their souls too closely at the beginning would only bring the child great pain later so he shielded his heart from her and didn’t offer her his love, only his protection.
In her terror, Lindsay didn’t try to shield her emotions from him, nor was she conscious of his presence in her mind. As he had so often done with Catarina, Lucian took Lindsay’s fear into his heart for his own. His heartbeat accelerated until he thought his chest would burst. Her anxiety coupled with his and almost disrupted his focus, but after several moments, he was able to dispel Lindsay’s fear from his soul.
When her fear dissipated, Lucian gave her the two languages of Woerld that he knew and guarded his thoughts from her. Then he gently withdrew from her mind and soul. The glassiness left the child’s sight, and though she still trembled, her teeth no longer chattered.
He returned his hand to her back and spoke to her in a soothing rumble, “You can let go now. It’s all right.” Just the same words over and over until she started to relax little by little.
It would take a few minutes before she would fully understand the languages he had given her. In every foundling’s beginning, comfort initially came with soft sounds and a gentle touch until the child found the words to communicate. Lucian stifled his impatience, swallowed his fear, and murmured to the distraught child one quiet lie after another. “Everything is going to be all right. You’re all right now.”
He used the time to examine her delicate features. Her long hair was the color of cornsilk and she wore it pulled back into a ponytail with a band that matched her purple sweater. Wisps of her bangs fell into almond shaped eyes that were the palest blue he’d ever seen.
Her shuddering eased and she loosened her grip on his arm but didn’t let go. She looked at him as if seeing him for the first time. Wonder replaced the wariness in her gaze. “I know your name.” She mixed Golanian with Ra’ananian, using words from both languages in a jumbled patois. He didn’t correct her; it would be a few hours before she would separate the two into distinct languages.
She clapped her hand over her mouth.
“It’s all right.” Lucian spoke to her using Ra’ananian. She needed to be proficient by the time they reached the Citadel, and he prayed she would never set foot in Golan. “It’s all right,” he said. “You know two new languages and my name.”
She nodded and moved her hand away from her lips.
“Good. That’s supposed to happen.” She would eventually lose her native language unless she met another foundling at the Citadel from her homeland on Earth. The only reason he and Catarina retained their knowledge of Walachian was because Catarina had insisted they use it between them as their private twin-speak. The memory of his sister reminded him of their danger. “Can you say my name?”
“Lucian.” She frowned.
After a moment of watching her struggle with his last name, he helped her. “Negru. You may call me Lucian.”
“Okay.” She released his arm and stepped back but not too far. “Lucian. Can you help me find Pete?”
“Who is Pete?”
“My brother.”
“Was he with you when you saw the Veil?”
“Yeah,” she whispered. She bit her quivering lower lip and took a long shuddering breath before she continued. “We got separated when we were coming through the Veil.” Unable to stop her tears, she used her palms to wipe them away and only succeeded in smearing ashes across her cheeks.
Lucian didn’t interrupt her as she recounted her adventure through the Veil. He gauged her reactions and though she was still upset, she could function. Relieved he’d done the right thing by alleviating her terror, he relaxed somewhat.
He promised himself that would be the last time he would take her emotions from her. From this point forward, Lindsay would have to learn to deal with Woerld’s shocks on her own. He wouldn’t cripple this child as he had his sister.
Lindsay’s voice disrupted his thoughts. “Pete got pulled one way and I went another and he said to run, but I didn’t know how, because everything was moving really fast. This doesn’t make any sense, does it?”
“It makes perfect sense. You saw a red glow and it grew, and somehow, you knew it was called the Crimson Veil.”
“That’s right.” She tilted her head to scrutinize him and her left eye narrowed. “That’s exactly what happened. I saw you sleeping. Did you see me?”
He shook his head. “I heard you scream. Where were you and Pete separated? Inside the Veil or here?”
“Inside.”
Lucian felt better knowing there wasn’t another foundling wandering Hell’s landscape. “Then he was drawn to another Elder, that’s all. We’ll go back to Woerld and we’ll find your brother.”
She looked over her shoulder to the line of the damned that shuffled deeper into the shadows then back to him. “My mom said I’m never supposed to go anywhere with strangers. I really just need to find Pete. That’s all. Just help me find Pete, and he’ll take care of me.” Her anxiety grew with every word.
“Your mother is correct: you shouldn’t trust everyone,” he said. “You said you saw me sleeping. What did you feel when you saw me?”
She stared at the ground and pressed her fingertips to her lips. Precious minutes passed before she answered. “I wanted to come to you, because I felt like we belonged together.” She looked up at him. “I knew you’d know what to do. That doesn’t make any sense, does it?”
“Yes, it does. When you looked into my eyes just now what did you see?”
“That you want to help me.” Yet her caution didn’t dissipate.
“That’s how I felt when I saw my Elder. I knew John would keep me safe even though I didn’t understand what was happening to me. If you’ll allow me, I’ll keep you safe until we find your brother.” He stood clumsily and held his hand out to her.
Her eyes followed his every move, and now she assessed him in much the same manner as he’d examined her earlier. It was evident she still wasn’t comfortable with the situation and he could hardly blame her. His ragged appearance couldn’t be very reassuring, and she had no guarantee he was taking her to a better place, much less to her brother. Lucian sighed but didn’t give up. “We’ll find Pete, Lindsay, if you will just trust me for a little while.” Lucian forced himself to be patient while she scanned the landscape.
“Okay,” she said. “But you better be what you say you are. My brother is going to be looking for me. He’s big, you know. He plays football.” She crossed her arms and thrust her chin at him defiantly.
Lucian raised an eyebrow at her, but his retort was cut off by a jaunty tune that tingled in the air. He had quite forgotten the cell phone until it started to ring, bringing hope to Lindsay’s eyes.
“Peter! That’s Pete’s ring tone! Where’s my phone?” Her defiance left her and she quivered in anticipation of something familiar, some rational event in this surreal world.
He reached into his pocket for the device. “Lindsay, think about what you are doing. Think. What’s making your phone ring?”
Her anticipation died and her lips parted, but she made no sound.
“I’m going to answer and if it’s Pete, I’ll hand it to you.”
“Okay, but do it quick before it goes to voicemail.”
He flipped the device open and the voice on the other end opened his heart.
“Lucian.” It was Rachael. He thought of smoke and honey and the memory of a summer night when she pressed her lips against his ear to moan his name.
He shook his head. The hope in Lindsay’s eyes died and her shoulders slumped.
He turned so the child wouldn’t see his face. “Rachael,” he said before his shame choked him silent.
The static screeched between them, then her next words rang through loud and clear. “I’m coming for you, Lucian.” Yet where he expected her magnificent rage, she sounded cautious, as if reassessing her position.
That slight hesitation on her part was all he needed to feed his hope. Perhaps his chance to make restitution to her wasn’t as slim as he first thought. Rachael Boucher was never easily parted from her hate, but her doubts could work as his key to her heart. Everything he wanted to say to her scattered before his panicked thoughts. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered.
She didn’t hear him, or if she did, she ignored the feeble apology. “I have a directive from the Seraph that you are to surrender yourself to my authority.”
“I will.”
“What did you say?”
“I will surrender myself to your authority,” he said more clearly. Lindsay edged into his line of vision; she mouthed her brother’s name. Lucian put his finger to his lips. She crossed her thin arms over her chest, thrust her hip out, and frowned at him. He didn’t have time to address the girl’s frustration before Rachael spoke again.
“Where were you in the Wasteland before you opened the Gate?” she asked.
Acutely aware that in Hell he was on his sister’s undisputed territory, he tried to think of a way to let Rachael know his route. Three days ago, he had passed a sign that had not been consumed by rot; although the letters were faded, he had made out the name of the destroyed city: Ierusal. When they were young, Rachael had called Ierusal the Forbidden City because John forbade them from patrolling north of the town.
“A few days northwest of the Forbidden City. We should reach it before you. We’ll wait for you there.”
She was silent for so long, he thought they had lost the connection. After an interminable wait, she asked, “Where?”
“Where you always knew to find me when I was troubled.” Where you always came to me when I needed you the most.
“I know the place.”
Keenly aware that if the Citadel already had a Judge moving because of his manipulation of the Gate, it must be later in the day than he thought. “Rachael, the time. What time is it?”
“Just after noon.”
“Merciful God.” The time had slipped, moving faster in Woerld than in Hell. He’d lost five hours from Woerld in the hour he’d been in Hell, and his sister’s guards knew his location.
Her patience gone, Lindsay grabbed for the phone. “Ask about Peter!”
Lucian lifted his arm so she couldn’t snatch the device from his hand. White noise distorted the connection. When the reception cleared, he heard someone speaking behind Rachael. Of course, she would have a constable with her; they always investigated in pairs.
Uncertain how much longer the connection would last, he spoke quickly, “There is a foundling here. Her name is Lindsay. Her brother came through the Veil with her. His name—”
“Peter.” Feedback squealed through the earpiece. “I’m sorry.” He heard her grief in those two words and wanted to reach out to her sadness, ease her pain. The static roared between them like a feral wind. He thought he heard her say something about jackals then the line went dead.
He dropped the phone to the dirt.
“Has she seen him?” Lindsay snatched the phone up before he could destroy it. She flipped it open and stared at the blank screen.
“Yes, but he may be hurt. She said she was sorry.” If there were jackals involved, he feared the boy dead. Yet this was neither the time nor the place to guide the child through grief. An obscene rumble shuddered through the ground, and Lucian turned to look at the pit behind them. Large chunks of gravel rattled to the edge of the hole and fell into the cavity.
“Lindsay, we have got to go. Now.” He returned his attention to her. “And you’re going to have to leave the phone behind.”
She ignored him and punched the buttons savagely, trying to make the phone work. Her lip quivered. A fat, pallid spider crawled through the display, and Lindsay flung the phone down like it was on fire. “Gross! What did you do to it?”
“It doesn’t work anymore.” He brought his cane down on the phone, shattering it and killing the spider. “The Veil has closed, and your phone is merely a doorway for the damned.”
From the direction of the pit, a high-pitched keening rent the air, and the girl’s eyes widened. “What’s that noise?”
Lucian had no idea. Despite his experience, he didn’t know all the horrors Hell contained nor was he in any mood to further his education. “We have to go. Are you coming with me?” He held out his hand.
The phone forgotten, she ran to him. “Don’t leave me!”
He remembered Rachael’s panic when he’d abandoned her at the Gate so long ago. She’d screamed his name and he’d left her anyway. Never again. Lucian put his arm around Lindsay and waited until she grabbed his forearm. “I won’t. I won’t leave you. Close your eyes.”
Light flashed overhead and for one nightmare instant, he saw a tentacle shoot upward from the pit. He focused his mind on the Psalm and started his chant. Hell’s landscape danced in his retinas. The threads of time frayed the landscape before them like a worn tapestry. For a split second, the two worlds overlapped with Lucian’s encampment in Woerld shining through Hell’s barren landscape. As he finished the Psalm, Hell gave way in a blaze of light to allow them to pass through the Gate into Woerld.
Although the overcast sky clouded the hour, he was sure that Rachael’s calculation of noon wasn’t far from the mark. Their packs were undisturbed. Catarina’s guards may not have felt the surge of his magic when he opened the Gate. If they did, they were too far away to respond immediately.
Lindsay snatched her bag off the ground and rummaged through the contents. After a thorough inspection, she seemed satisfied that her possessions were undisturbed.
“Put your coat on,” he said.
She fished her coat out of her bag. “Jeez, can you do that anytime you want to?”
“Do what?”
She waved her hand. “You know—that whoosh-thing you just did.”
The Gate. She wanted to know about the Gate. “No. I’ll explain how that works later.”
“Is Pete around here?”
He shook his head. “This is the Wasteland. Peter is farther south at the Citadel with Rachael.” He helped her into her deep green coat and noted with some relief that her pants and shoes appeared sturdy enough for the terrain. At least he didn’t have to worry about clothing for her. He shouldered his pack. “Now, listen: we must go very quietly. There are some bad people here, and we must be careful to avoid them.”
A horse nickered in the distance. He held his finger over his lips. She tried to peer around him and started to ask another question. He put his hand over her mouth and her eyes went wide.
“Hush and listen,” he whispered.
She tensed against him and nodded. He released her.
The woods and hills sheltered them and their enemy from one another’s sight. Though Lucian saw no one, he heard the jingle of tack. This was no haunting.
“You’ve got to hide.” He gestured for her to follow him and when she lingered by the road, he grabbed her wrist.
“Hey!” She glared at him and tried to pull away, but he jerked her close and clapped his hand over her mouth again.
“If you give us away, we’re both dead,” he whispered and was gratified to see fear in her eyes. He didn’t release her until she nodded.
The wariness that crept back across her face stung him, but he had no choice. She would inadvertently give them away if she wasn’t careful. She needed to be afraid. Her words were barely audible. “You’re hurting me.”
He let her go and glanced down; an angry red mark encircled her wrist from where he had gripped her. His cheeks flushed with shame, but he didn’t drop his gaze. “Do you understand, Lindsay? We must be quiet.”
Lindsay rubbed her wrist and nodded.
“Good, now move quickly.”He guided her behind the huge rock where it jutted over the ground to form a ledge. The bright gym bag went in first, and he shoved it deep into the crevice. He motioned for Lindsay to hide beneath the stone.
She scooted into the crevice. “What about you?”
He put his pack beside her. “You said you would trust me.”
The horse snorted, and Lucian looked toward the trail, then back to the girl. Lindsay’s anxiety became palpable. A special bond formed between foundlings and their Elders and already Lindsay was becoming sensitive to his emotions. He wished he could say something to wash the fear from her eyes. “Don’t move until I come and get you.”
Her head moved up and down once.
A talisman, he thought, something for her to hold and believe in. He had nothing to give her.
Only he did.
He reached into his breast pocket and removed his Psalter. He pressed it into her small hands. “I need your help, Lindsay.”
Surprised at the sudden gift, she gripped the small book and opened her mouth.
He shook his head. “Listen. This is something very old and very magical. Close your eyes, hold the book tight, and pray to whatever god you worship that we get away safely. Can you do that?”
She nodded and held the Psalter close to her chest.
Satisfied a small portion of her fear had diminished, he left her. He went to the side of the rock where he could see the road without being seen. Only when he was out of her sight did he unsheathe Matthew’s sword.
Several minutes passed before the soldier’s mount ambled into view. The man wore Catarina’s livery and her raven seal. Lucian didn’t recognize him. The soldier rode with the sloppy abandon of someone on an afternoon jaunt rather than a hunt.
Why not? In their minds, Lucian was nothing more than Catarina’s crippled brother, a ghost. They believed they had only to show themselves and he would fall subservient at their feet. They forgot that he was once Katharos.
Are Katharos, Matthew’s voice whispered. You are Katharos; God remains on his throne. The memory of the priest’s words poured courage into Lucian’s heart. He would teach them to taste the fear that had soured his palate for the last ten years.
The horse would be a boon if he could take the man and leave the mount, but he needed a distraction. He bent and picked up a rock big enough to fit in the palm of his hand. Several feet away, the ground dropped to form a deep ravine. The soldier would be forced to dismount in order to investigate.
Not believing the plan would work, Lucian nonetheless threw the stone into the gully. The rock snapped a dead branch from a tree.
Horse and rider perked up at the sound. The guard drew his blade as he rode past Lucian’s hiding spot. Surely no one was so stupid as to fall for that trick. To Lucian’s amazement, the man dismounted and lashed the reins to a strong limb. He didn’t raise the alarm to any cohorts as he gazed down into the foliage.
In his sister’s house, Lucian had learned to move silently to avoid notice. Now, quiet as the specter he once was, he crept forward until only a few feet separated him from the guard. He had no choice but to thrust his blade into the man’s back. He struck below the soldier’s left shoulder blade and drove the steel upward into the man’s heart before he withdrew the sword. For one terrifying moment, Lucian was afraid the man would scream. Instead, the soldier dropped to the ground without a cry.
Lucian crossed himself. There would be no absolution for this cold murder, and though it wasn’t his first, he despised the slaughter. This killing would cling to him no less for being necessary.
Careful as he was, he still had blood on his hands when he finished cleaning his sword on the man’s cloak. Lucian rolled the soldier’s body to the bottom of the ravine where it stopped, mercifully face down. A short prayer and a wave of his hand brought forward a small breeze to blow fluttering leaves over the corpse. Within minutes, the soldier was covered in a shallow grave.
The horse snorted and pulled against its reins before Lucian gentled the beast with a touch. He gave the mare soothing images of the herd and a fertile field. Whether it was from opening the Gate or his newfound confidence, he felt God’s Spirit return to his limbs. Acts that had once taken the greatest deliberation to accomplish were returning to him as second nature. The animal calmed, and he led it to the rock where he had left Lindsay.
Face gray with fear, Lindsay huddled beneath the outcropping. Her eyes were squeezed shut and her mouth moved silently while she hugged his Psalter.
“Lindsay.”
She jumped and bumped her head on the rock. “Are they gone?”
“He’s gone, but keep your voice low. There may be others nearby. Come out and don’t forget your bag.”
She scrambled out from beneath the rock and gave him his Psalter, then stepped back out of his reach. Without getting too close to him, she snagged the strap of her bag. Her guarded actions made Lucian wonder if she saw him kill the soldier. How would he explain the need for such a murder to her? She rubbed her wrist again, and he remembered grabbing her.
“I’m sorry,” he said as he returned the Psalter to his pocket. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“Yeah, well,” she glanced down at his pack, which still rested by the ledge. She leaned over, snatched it off the ground, and handed it to him. “You scared me. Okay?”
“No, it’s not okay. I shouldn’t have hurt you.”
She gazed into his eyes and he was sure she examined his words and intent with the same deliberation as any Citadel judge. She sighed and pulled her hair band free, twisted her long hair back into a ponytail and secured it once more. “It’s okay, I guess.” Her eyes lit up and she pointed over his shoulder. “How’d we get a horse?”
“God is with us.”
She forgot her fear of him and went to the mare, stroking the horse’s nose and murmuring to her. “My friend Cindy has a horse.”
“Have you ridden before?” He secured his pack to the saddle, then held his hand out to her.
“Dad let me ride in the Cindy’s corral but that’s all. Are we both going to ride?”
“Two people, one horse.” He shrugged and patted the mare’s neck. “She is a strong mare; she’ll carry us. We really need to get moving, though. In case there are more soldiers.”
Lindsay went to the side of the horse and allowed him to lift her until she could get her foot in the stirrup.
Lucian mounted behind her and indicated that she should grasp the pommel. “Hold tight in case we have to go fast.”
He felt her nod through her hood as he wrapped his mantle around her, more to obscure her from prying eyes than to keep her warm. He listened and thought he heard someone call out. Lindsay went rigid in front of him, but after several moments, no other sound penetrated the Wasteland’s silence.
She tensed against him again when he guided the horse onto the deer path that had once been called the Great Road. When he kept the beast to a slow walk, Lindsay relaxed. Each hoof-strike against the earth sounded like thunder to him. Walking gave them the advantage of stealth, but Lucian couldn’t move quickly on foot, and Lindsay’s presence changed everything. The girl needed to be away from him as soon as possible.
The Council wouldn’t allow him to foster this child. It would be better for them both if he remained emotionally detached and turned her over to Rachael before Lindsay’s powers started to develop. With the horse and good weather, they would meet Rachael within four or five days; soon enough for Rachael to form a fostering bond with the youngster.
Lucian rode for the better part of an hour without seeing or hearing anyone else; he hoped the man had been a forward scout. He kicked the horse to a trot. His confidence rose until they reached a clearly defined crossroad. He reined the horse to a stop.
“Why are we stopping?” Lindsay whispered, and her pulse fluttered bird-like beneath her wrist.
“I’m not sure of the way.” The trees and clouds obscured the sun so he couldn’t easily tell the direction; the signposts had long ago deteriorated. Lucian had never approached Ierusal from this route. Examining the dull sunlight again, he guessed the southeasterly road would go left. He reined the horse in that direction, but the beast became skittish and danced back to the center of the crossroad.
Examining the road and the woods beyond, he didn’t see anything that should have caused their mount anxiety. He tried the road to the right, and the horse exhibited an even more violent reaction.
“What’s the matter with her?” Lindsay’s knuckles were white from her grip on the pommel.
“I don’t know.” Once more he calmed the animal with a touch and guided the beast to the road before them. The horse plodded along docilely.
Lucian looked over his shoulder and caught a glimpse of a ghostly figure with a halo of white hair and mischievous eyes. He wheeled their mount in time to see a man’s image fade into the early afternoon mist. He could have sworn the ghost winked at him with the same knowing wink Matthew Kellogg had given him in the church.
Lindsay twisted to look up at him. “Is everything okay?” Her hood fell back to reveal her white-gold hair.
“Fine. We’re fine now.” He guided the horse back to their original route. “I’m sure of it.” Twice more, he looked over his shoulder before they rounded a bend and the crossroad was out of sight.
“Can we talk now?” Lindsay asked.
“Of course, but softly.”
“Where were we, you know, in that place where you found me?”
“You mean Hell?
“No shit? That was Hell?” She twisted again, her eyes wide.
“Don’t swear, Lindsay. And yes, that was Hell.”
She blushed and faced forward. “Wow.”
“You’re in Woerld now.” They passed an open field on their right where a lone hut hunkered at the edge of the wood. The door hung askew and vines wrapped the frame. It was the first physical evidence he had seen that humans once lived here.
Lindsay leaned over his arm to examine the abandoned home. “Are we the only people here?”
“No. There was great war here many years ago and it made the country uninhabitable. We call it the War of the Great Schism, because the Seraph of the Zoroastrian bastion withdrew from the Council of Seraphs.” The same type of schism that his sister hoped to promote within the Citadel, but Lucian didn’t see the point in telling the child. She was too young to understand the delicate balancing act that the Seraphs maintained to keep the peace between their various religions so they could focus on their common enemy, the Fallen. “There are a lot people in Ra’anan. That’s where we’re going.”
“Pete’s there, right?”
“Yes.” He hoped the boy was all right.
“Pete and I were just walking home. How did we get here?”
“You and your brother passed through the Crimson Veil.”
“I remember that—Crimson Veil—but I don’t know what it means.” She sighed as she turned her head to take in the forest around them. “I don’t understand any of this.”
“It will become easier. We’ll take it in small steps and start with the Veil. The Crimson Veil shields Earth from Woerld. It’s like a curtain that only becomes visible at certain times.”
“Why?”
“Did you ever go to church, Lindsay?”
She took the band from her hair. “Dad always called us C and E Episcopalians.”
“Church of England?”
She gathered her hair back into a ponytail and popped the band in place. “Christmas and Easter.”
He smiled, and the expression felt strange on his face. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d smiled or even laughed. “Did you ever hear about the war in Heaven between God and Satan?”
“Yeah, God won and put Satan and all the angels that followed him into Hell. My dad said it was bullshit the preachers used to scare everybody into giving them money.”
Lucian winced. He could tell from Lindsay’s tone that she probably believed her father’s worldview on religion. “I’m afraid your father is wrong.”
She narrowed her eyes and gave him a distrustful glance.
“There really was a war in Heaven, and here in Woerld, we call those evil angels the Fallen. The Fallen Angels want to take over Woerld so they can move through the Veil to conquer Earth. Then they intend to storm Heaven’s Gates. It’s a matter of strategy. They consolidate their forces and solidify their positions on one level, then move to the next, invariably cornering Heaven’s host.”
Lindsay was silent for several minutes before she said, “That’s insane.”
“It makes perfect sense. I’ll show you.” He reined the horse to a halt and dismounted, grinding his teeth against the pain in his leg when he put his weight on it. He leaned on his cane until he could walk the stiffness from his knee. “Come down.”
“What for?” She tightened her legs around the horse’s sides and narrowed her left eye at him.
“I want to show you something.” When she still didn’t move, he sighed and looked off into the woods. This was his fault; if he hadn’t hurt her back at the rock, she wouldn’t be so cautious of him. Yet every second he wasted trying to explain Woerld to her was another second Speight and his men drew closer to them.
Lucian kneaded the head of his cane and tried to still his anxiety. With or without Speight hunting him, he had to teach Lindsay the rudiments of Woerld. Otherwise, she would be ill prepared when her talents started to emerge, and that could make her as dangerous to him as Catarina. “Lindsay, please.”
“All right, all right.” She slipped off the horse gracefully and stood just out of his reach. “Now what?”
“Watch.” He used his cane to draw four circles in the dirt and connected them with lines. “Now.” He pointed to the bottom circle. “Pretend this is Hell.”
She glanced at him and edged closer to better see his crude outline.
He pointed to the next ring. “This is Woerld. Woerld stands between Hell and Earth.” He pointed to the fourth ring. “Heaven encircles us all. Each dimension exists parallel to the other.” He glanced at her, but she seemed absorbed in the diagram. “The Fallen Angels are trapped in their prison behind the Hell Gates, which are another form of—”
She shook her head. “I’m not getting any of this.”
Lucian examined his diagram; he didn’t know how he could possibly simplify the matter. All he had given her so far were the bare essentials. He hadn’t begun to explain how the chaos of Hell could shift time to run faster or slower. Nor would Lindsay understand the Celestial Court’s ability to create rifts in the timespace continuum to link Elders and foundlings who were perfectly suited for one another. How could he when even Woerld’s greatest mathematicians failed to find the calculations to explain how time worked?
Lucian stifled his irritation and listened for Catarina’s soldiers. The mare nosed the ground and found a rare patch of grass to nibble; otherwise, the Wasteland was quiet. All Lindsay needed to know was how she came to Woerld. He pointed the tip of his cane to the circle that represented Earth. “You started out here. And you passed through what we call the Crimson Veil.” He dragged the tip of his cane along the line connecting Earth to Woerld. “Into Woerld. The Veil closed behind you.” He closed the blurred line between Earth and Woerld. “You passed through a weakened Hell Gate and into Hell.” He pushed the tip of his cane into the circle representing Hell. “I went in and brought you back into Woerld.” He moved his cane to represent their journey.
“This is closed now?” She pointed to the line symbolizing the Veil.
“That’s correct. The Veil only opens for a brief amount of time. It never allows anyone or anything from Woerld to pass through to Earth. It’s like a great fence that keeps the Fallen from their objective.”
“You’re saying I can’t go back to Earth?” Lindsay’s lower lip trembled, but she didn’t lose her composure.
He nodded. “I’m afraid that’s so. We can never go back.”
“But my mom,” she whispered and her voice trailed off. Lindsay twisted her fingers in her ponytail as she contemplated the meaning of his words. “Oh, shit, this is bad.”
“Lindsay, I’m sorry.” Lucian reached out to her.
She stepped away from him; her distrust was back. “Nevermind. Pete’s good at this stuff. He’ll find a way home.”
“You can’t go back, Lindsay. I wanted to go home. I still haven’t found a way.”
“Yeah, well, Pete’s smarter than you.” She crossed her arms and thrust her chin at him, daring him to contradict her.
Lucian relinquished the argument to her for the time being. Very few foundlings initially believed they would never go home. Perhaps that hope sustained them in their early years in Woerld. Lucian knew his dream of finding a way back through the Veil had nourished him through his first days. Whether Lindsay believed him or not was irrelevant at this point. Time would teach her the truth.
She studied the diagram for several minutes. “So what made the Veil open? And why did Pete and I pass through it? Why not a cat or a dog that was walking by?”
“It has to do with the Fallen.”
“You keep going back to those fallen angels.”
“Exactly. You see the Hell Gates are sealed, but seals can be broken. The Fallen want to break free from Hell so they can overrun Woerld. Some of the Fallen were once archangels. Once free of the chains that hold them in Hell, these fallen archangels believe they can force their way into Woerld. Here in Woerld, the various bastions that represent Earth’s religions work together. Each religion has very special talents and the Katharoi of these religions understand the spells to keep the Fallen out of Woerld. But we must work together. Otherwise, the Fallen will take over Woerld and once they solidify their position in Woerld, their next goal is Earth.
“Earth guards Heaven’s Gates, but Earth’s religions are fragmented and at war with one another. They have lost their ability to hear the Celestial Court, because they have entrenched themselves in politics and temporal matters. They have forgotten the spiritual and cannot pull together to defeat the Fallen. So we must hold the Fallen back in Woerld. Otherwise, Heaven falls and chaos will reign forever.”
When she looked up at him, her left eye was almost shut. She gauged him as carefully as she had back at the rock. “Are you kidding me?”
“Did you find Hell amusing?”
Her lips parted, then she shut her mouth and without a word, she walked several paces down the road. Lucian gripped the reins and debated riding after her, but Lindsay halted, her back rigid, her hands clenched at her side. When he was sure she wasn’t going anywhere, he relaxed and used the time to scan the forest. They were alone, but for how long? He wanted to move, but he couldn’t rush her.
Obviously raised in a secular society, Lindsay couldn’t possibly grasp everything he wanted to tell her. Religion had been an everyday part of his life before Woerld, so John’s talk of Heaven and Hell had been natural to Lucian. However, he remembered how Rachael had struggled like Lindsay when she’d first come to Woerld. Lucian racked his memories to recall how John handled her disbelief, but he drew one blank after another.
Lindsay returned to him. This time, she came close to him. “You still haven’t told me why Pete and I are here.”
“The Crimson Veil only opens for children who have special talents.”
“Talents?”
“Yes. We are drawn through the Veil to defend Woerld from the Fallen. When the Celestial Court decides a child is worthy, the Veil between Earth and Woerld parts to draw the child into Woerld.” He wiped the diagram out of the dirt and pushed some leaves over the ground. “Let’s talk while we ride.” He couldn’t still his anxiousness another minute. “We need to get moving.” He held out his hand and to his astonishment, she allowed him to help her back onto the horse without protest.
He mounted behind her, relieved to put more distance between himself and Catarina’s soldiers. “There is something special about you and Peter or neither of you would be here. We’ll just have to wait for your talents to manifest before we know for sure.” A fallen tree obstructed the road, and Lucian guided the horse off the trail to bypass the obstacle.
“What do you mean by talents?” She picked up the ends of the reins and passed them through her busy fingers.
He tried to think of a way to make her understand. “Talents are your ability to channel God’s spirit.”
“That’s the magic you were talking about? The magic the Katharoi work to hold the Fallen back?”
“Yes. My job as your Elder is to teach you how to control the power that comes from inside you.” He ducked under a low hanging branch as they skirted the log and regained the road. “The Katharoi will always manifest their light from within, and the servants of the Fallen must rely on amulets and incantations to work their magic. That’s how you know the Katharoi from those who serve the Fallen.”
“Are you a Katharos?”
Father Matt’s words came back to him, and Lucian whispered, “Yes.”
“And you’re my Elder.”
“For now.” He felt her twist her torso so she could look up at him, but he kept his eyes on the road ahead. “The Citadel council will decide whether or not you will remain with me or if you should have another Elder to teach you our ways.”
She was quiet for a while, watching the dead trees. The road wound down a steep hill, and the horse balked. Lucian coaxed the mare down the hill.
Lindsay shifted her weight in the saddle. “Did you get to stay with your Elder?”
“I did. My Elder is the Citadel’s Seraph John Shea.” He kept a tight rein on the horse as they ascended the knoll. Lindsay held on. When they reached the top, he said, “He is also my sister’s Elder.”
“Wow.” She stroked the horse’s neck. “Your sister is in Woerld too?”
“My sister lives in Hadra.” His words suddenly hung in his throat and speaking became an effort. “Hadra is a city. In the north.” He hesitated, unsure how much to say. For the time being, her fate was tied to his, she had every right to know the danger she was in, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell her. He felt her gaze on his face, but he didn’t look down. “Catarina. That’s her name, Catarina. She is very angry with me.” He paused again, and when she didn’t ask why, he continued. “She wants me to return to her house in Hadra.”
“But you don’t want to go back.”
Surprised at her perception, he shook his head. “No, I do not, and that has made my sister very angry.” And when she becomes angry, she becomes violent.
Lindsay nodded as if she understood his reluctance to speak. “And that soldier we stole our horse from? He works for her, right?”
Lucian winced. The soldier I killed. “Yes.”
Lindsay shifted until she faced forward and they rode in silence, Lucian listening and watching the wood around them, Lindsay deep in her own contemplations. As the day faded, he started looking for a good place to camp, and just before dusk, he reined the horse to a stop.
He led the animal off the trail and behind a large bush that would give them some cover from the road. Several feet from the bush, a stream burbled through a gully, and Lucian took the horse to the water. Lindsay dismounted and washed Hell’s ashes from her face while he took care of the horse. Soon they settled down to a small dinner of the guard’s rations. The shadows lengthened as the sun dipped behind the mountains.
Lindsay picked at the hard biscuit. Strands of her hair escaped her hair bow and wisped around her delicate features, creating a halo in the fading light. “Hey, Lucian?”
“Yes?”
“If we can do magic, why don’t you just whoosh us?”
He raised an eyebrow at her. “Whoosh?”
“Yeah, you know, like when we were in Hell, when you did whatever it was you did: chanted, wiggled your nose, whatever, then whoosh!” She threw her arms wide. “We were in Woerld. Why don’t you just whoosh us to the Citadel?”
Laughter burst from him like a rainbow.
“I’m being serious.” A lop-sided grin teased the corner of her mouth at his infectious laughter. “What’s so funny?”
The image was too ludicrous. “I’m not sure that I can.”
“Whoosh us?”
He shook his head. “Wiggle my nose.”
She toed the dirt with her tennis shoe and giggled. “Come on, Lucian, I’m being serious.”
“So am I. Oh, Lord.” He wiped his eyes. “Oh, child, it simply doesn’t work like that.”
She blushed. “Well, how does it work?”
“The Gates only open to certain places and knowing which ones are safe to pass through takes many years of study. And magic, well…” He carefully wrapped half of his ration for tomorrow.
“Yeah? What about magic?” Her eyes were bright with interest and she leaned forward, her elbows on her knees.
“We have major and minor talents. For example, I’m a healer and an exorcist. I can also command several Hell Gates simultaneously. Those are my major talents. I can’t use those powers for anything other than healing and exorcism. And the Gates, well, the Gates will take you to Hell, no place else.” He smiled at her. “I have to rely on regular modes of transportation and live by my wits like everyone else.”
“Oh.” Her face sagged with disappointment. “So how do the talents work?”
“Do you remember I told you that the Katharoi use the power within us?”
“Yeah.”
He brushed his hands off and recalled John teaching him how to bring his soul-light into existence. “All right. I’ll teach you a trick so you can understand.”
“Cool.” She wrapped her biscuit and put it in her pack, then gave him her undivided attention.
“Close your eyes and take a deep breath.” He waited for her to comply and when she did, he smiled. “You have a light in your soul, and that light comes from a divine presence—God, Allah, Providence. Whatever you choose to call this presence, it is a part of you. Do you see it, Lindsay?”
She started to shake her head, then her whole face brightened with her smile. “I see it,” she whispered as if any greater sound would chase the light away.
“Hold your hand out, palm up. Good. Now open your eyes and I want you to envision a small portion of that light floating above your palm.”
Lindsay watched her palm, her eyebrows almost touching with her concentration.
“See it, Lindsay. Make it real.” He watched her struggle with her concentration, then her soul-light burst over her outstretched hand to illuminate her triumphant grin.
“I did it!”
“You did indeed. We call that your soul-light. It’s a minor trick, but important. You pulled the divine from within yourself and made it manifest. That is how your talents will work.”
“And the Fallen can’t do this.”
Aware of how bright her light was in the encroaching darkness, his nervousness returned and Lucian said, “Let it go out now. We don’t want to be seen.”
She looked disappointed but extinguished her light.
Lucian felt better with the dusk cloaking them. “The Fallen cannot make light. They can only steal it.”
“So that’s why they have to use charms?” She wiggled her fingers and stifled a yawn.
Impressed that she remembered that detail, he grinned at her. “Precisely! You’re very smart, Lindsay.”
She blushed at the compliment. After a moment, she frowned and sat straighter. “Wait a minute. Wasn’t using that magic book like using a charm?”
The book. It took him a moment to realize she meant the Psalter that he’d given her to hold this morning. “There’s no magic in the Psalter. You were channeling God’s power through yourself. A Katharos’s power comes from within.”
“You said the book was magic.”
He flinched at her accusation and promised himself he wouldn’t lie to her again. “You were frightened, and I thought if you had something to hold, you would find comfort. You merely used the book to focus your mind. Any power you channeled came from within you, not the Psalter.”
“What’s a Psalter?”
He withdrew the book from his breast pocket and she came close to see the pages. “It’s a book of Psalms, but that’s not what makes it special. It was gift to me from my mother. She gave one to me and a matching Psalter to my sister. These are highly prized and cost a great deal of money.”
Lindsay tried to suppress her next yawn. “Does your sister still have her book?”
He settled against his pack, easing some of the pain in his leg. “No, she gave hers to a man when she left the Citadel.”
Her eyes brightened and she rested her chin on her palm. “She must have really liked him.”
She did it to mock him because she hated him. Lucian looked at Lindsay’s expectant face and realized she anticipated a love story. Such a tale would be a lie, so he relied instead on the flat truth. “I don’t think she liked him very much at all. She just wanted him to think she did.”
“Oh.” The word turned into a yawn she couldn’t resist and she covered her mouth daintily.
“Here.” Lucian took off his mantle and spread it on the ground for her. “We need to get some rest. We’ve got a long way to go tomorrow.” He gestured to the soft ermine fur that glowed in the last of the day’s light. “Lie down.” When she was comfortable, he wrapped the heavy wool around her so she was shrouded in darkness and hidden from prying eyes. He gave her the gym bag to use as a pillow. “Are you warm?”
“Yeah, but what about you?”
“I’ll be fine; I’m used to the weather.” He went to his pack a few feet away and sat down. He didn’t dare recline for fear he would sleep too deeply; instead, he sat with his back against a tree and stretched his leg out.
“Lucian?” Lindsay’s voice drifted out of the darkness. “Do you think Pete’s okay?”
“I don’t know.” He feared the boy was dead, but Lindsay’s hope of finding her brother would anchor her until she learned Woerld’s ways. Lucian refused to kill her expectations based on a suspicion. “I don’t believe speculation in either direction will do you any good. You need to concentrate on your own survival for now.”
“You don’t have any magic way to, you know, see if he’s okay? Do you?”
“I’m sorry, Lindsay, I don’t have the Sight. It’s not one of my talents.”
“Oh.” Just that one word, pregnant with her disappointment.
Lucian rested his head against the rough bark and listened to Lindsay’s breathing even to the slow measured pace of sleep. He kept most of his promise to her by watching into the night. Dozing intermittently, he monitored the subtle shifts of the Wasteland’s spells so that nothing bled through to take them in their sleep.