The late afternoon sun had begun to dip under the horizon when Alyse reached the clearing. The path was gone, swallowed up by the wood, even the tracks of the cage Evans used to bring them to the rift seemed to have vanished in the light of day.
She didn’t dare tell anyone what happened. What would she say? They’d call her hysterical and lock her up, and that simply wouldn’t do. Vic told her he’d be back by sunrise. He promised. Alyse was going to throttle the idiot when she found him. And Johnathan! Dammit, she hated how they made her worry.
Alyse bit her lip. Was Johnathan still alive? She couldn’t avoid thinking of the worst outcome. That last sight of him…
She finally found the clearing by the smell. The stink of rot was so ripe it made her eyes water, but the stench and the buzz of flies led her to the site sure as Ariadne’s string.
Saliva pooled in her mouth at the scene. Her mouth puckered against the reflex to vomit, but Alyse swallowed it down. She crossed the battlefield with short, shallow breaths, searching through the bodies. The society men were torn to pieces. Not a single one of them was intact. Was that bastard Evans among them? She hoped Johnathan ripped him to pieces.
She paused at a smear of bloodied grass, near the center of the clearing. The blood and viscera were all human. All evidence of the Nether, from the horrid throne to the Hellhounds, were gone. There were piles of ash in a circle close to the crude stone braziers, now cold and streaked with soot. Was Johnathan one of those piles? Her heart hurt at the thought.
Where were they?
Alyse stomped her foot in frustration and cringed when the movement sent little puffs of ash into the air. “Sorry,” she whispered to the dead.
Confused, she searched the area. There wasn’t a hint of Vic, or Johnathan, to be found.
Alyse held her grief close to her chest for the long trek home. The scavengers would come soon to pick at the remains of the Society men, and she would let them, let the forest claim them. Her thoughts wound themselves in circles, but an answer waited for her on the desk in her room, sealed with Vic’s familiar wax crest.
“This had better be good,” she muttered, breaking the seal on the note.
My heart,
We are safe. I’m afraid I must break my promise. Johnathan and I need to run before the Society regroups. I pray you find this note before you visit that dreadful scene, but I know you are too stubborn to stay away. It’s what I love about you. I wanted to protect you from the more violent aspects of my existence, but now, in the hour of choice, I find I am desperate to keep you close. Selfish of me, I know. We are bound for the station in Hampshire. I will take Johnathan to New York. I would be honored if you would join us. You will always be the family of my heart. I would never have survived here without your guidance and generosity. No matter what you decide, remember to follow your heart, dear one, and never bury your true self.
Forever yours,
Victor
Alyse read the letter twice over before she carefully shredded it into strips. She would burn the paper in a moment. Her relief swamped her. Johnathan was alive. The day was won, and Vic wanted her at his side.
Her thoughts turned over. The Society would never leave them alone. Evans spent three decades searching for a Hellhound. That sort of time investment wasn’t the work of one man.
She paced, a plan formulating in her mind when her toe connected with something solid. Alyse glanced down at the mysterious gun Evans used to shoot the Nether creature. Vic must have left it for her, finally acknowledging her capability. Curious, she picked it up, surprised at how light it was for its size.
A weapon felt right in her hands. Her fingers closed around the metal, her mouth set in a grim determined line. She had a train to catch.