Forrest took the handkerchief from his pocket, folded it into a triangle, and tied it to cover his nose and mouth. The brimstone was bad enough, but the smell of smoldering flesh sickened him.
Although the area where he stood was identical to the neglected track and tunnel on the outside of the time portal, it was like being in a foreign land. Nothing looked the same, but he wasn’t able to examine anything from a distance. The thick smoke prevented him from seeing any object farther than ten inches away. Occasionally, heavy snorts, which sounded like angered bulls puffed too close to allow him to lower his guard. He guessed these were demons trying to get his scent, but they made certain never to come into view. Sometimes not seeing a foe was more frightening than actually seeing it.
Forrest shoved his hands into his pockets and grabbed his stakes. Although he couldn’t stake a demon like a vampire and vaporize them, he could drive one through its skull and kill it, should the need arise. He wondered how many of these demons were hiding in the smoke and what kind of hellish creatures lurked with them.
The last thing he had expected to discover was that he might soon face the foot soldier demons Penelope had encountered long ago. Even though he knew ranks existed for demons, just like vampires and other supernatural creatures, he had never considered how vast an army Penelope had chosen to face without him. And even worse, she had stood against them … alone.
Regret pierced his soul. He had wanted to go with her. He had even told her so, but she couldn’t wait a few more days. And stubborn in his own fashion, he couldn’t abandon his mission at that time, either. He had made an oath, a costly oath that he now regretted. He had lost Penelope in the process, and his father, too. Why couldn’t he have postponed his pledge and gone with her?
Forrest took a step over the arm of a dead man. The fingers curled and twitched. He paused and studied the man for several moments, but no further movement was detected. Was the smoke creating strange illusions or playing with his eyes? With all the bizarre creatures and strange encounters he had faced during his lifetime as a Vampire Hunter, out of the ordinary situations were more common occurrences than not.
He kept moving. He hoped Gunner and Ian were okay. They had been silent since they had left him and Cassie. That should have been a good sign. They had not wailed in pain or called out to one another at all, so most likely they were alive and unharmed, but still searching.
The air suddenly became thicker and more difficult to breathe. He placed his hand against the strange textured wall and growls uttered in low threatening tones. He pressed again and slid his hand partway into the cold goo. He looked up and shook, but not from the cold. His eyes widened.
Penelope?
She stood like a frozen statue at the center of this strange substance inside a bell-like dome. Penelope’s open eyes detailed her final emotion before she had been confined to this odd prison, somehow trapped like an insect in hardened amber. The determined firmness of her brow indicated her focus was on an enemy. Her right hand remained tightened around the grip of her bow. Her left hand was raised as if reaching for an arrow in the quiver on her back. The expression on her face showed no fear, even with the dead bodies scattered around her position. She had not died violently, as he had feared, but she had been imprisoned inside this strange tomb.
How?
Why?
The jelly-like substance solidified around Forrest’s forearm. The cold bit painfully to the bone. The viscous gel resisted his advance, even though he had shoved his weight and strength behind his right arm, trying to get into the enclosure to get closer to Penelope. He attempted to move his fingers and found he could not.
He gazed into her frozen eyes, remembering the warmth they once showed him long ago. She still looked the same as he had remembered her before she had become trapped for more than a century. Her suspended image was the same teenage Demon-hunter except she appeared much younger than his memory served him. But, at the time when they had parted ways, she had been older than he, which might have made her look older in his eyes when he had been a boy.
Eva had preserved and concealed the area, but why had the surviving demons that were trapped inside with Penelope not killed her? Could they even get to her through this barrier? He certainly was having one hell of a time penetrating the cold wall.
Forrest attempted to pull his arm out, but the substance held fast, gripping firmly, and refused to release its hold. Afraid to thrust his other arm into it for fear it would become trapped as well, he gripped his right elbow and tugged. Nothing. Not an inch.
Chattering echoed within the dark smoky veil. A tone of eagerness flowed with their strange cries. He wondered if their bloodlust was aimed toward him, or if were they hopeful he’d somehow release her. He had no way to tell, but he was quite certain he wasn’t going to get anywhere near enough to reach her, much less free her. His arm was ensnared.
A bloodcurdling shriek echoed beyond the deep smoke. He recognized the growl that followed to be Gunner’s. His growl had not come from injury but was Gunner’s signature triumphant roar.
“Gunner!” Forrest shouted. “I need your help.”
“What is it?” Ian asked behind him.
Forrest glanced over his shoulder. Ian stood in his otter form. Blood dripped from his razor-sharp claws. Demon’s blood. Ian didn’t seem to have any injuries at all, and the brothers’ bold search through the smoke might have been another reason the demons had yet emerged to attack Forrest.
He had never thought demons to be cowardly, but he supposed that was possible since it had required an army of them to have enough courage to bring carnage to Seattle. These demons seemed apprehensive to attack. Perhaps it was due to their curiosity since no one had set foot into this hidden pocket of time until now.
“My arm is stuck,” Forrest said.
“I see that.”
“You mind helping?”
“What exactly do you wish me to do?” Ian studied the gelatin wall that enclosed Forrest’s arm up to his elbow. He leaned closer, sniffed the gooey substance, and placed his altered hands against the wall.
“No,” Forrest said, “it will trap you, too.”
Ian grunted, lowering his bloody hands. He stepped behind Forrest, wrapped his arms around Forrest’s waist, and tugged with all his strength.
“Ian! Stop!”
“It’s not working?”
“No. Not unless your goal is to rip my arm off.”
Ian released his hold on Forrest and stepped back. His whiskers twitched and his shiny black eyes studied the strange gel wall. He rubbed his furry chin and shook his head. “No give at all?”
“Nope.”
Ian scrunched his black snout in an odd grimace.
“Look what I got,” Gunner said, emerging from the smoke and walking toward them. In one hand he held a silver short sword with strange symbols welded into its hilt. In the other hand was the head of a gnarled-faced demon. Its eyes were widened by the sudden shock of its decapitation. Blood dripped from the demon’s head.
“What is that?” Ian asked.
“It’s a demon head,” Gunner said with a prideful gnarled smile.
“No, the blade, you twit.” Ian narrowed his eyes. “Where’d you find that?”
“It belonged to the demon,” he replied. Gunner looked at Forrest and noticed Forrest’s arm stuck inside the gel. He peered closer. “What happened?”
“What does it look like happened?” Ian snapped.
“Ian,” Forrest said, shaking his head.
Ian huffed. “Well, it couldn’t be any more obvious, could it?”
“Maybe not, but considering that we’re surrounded by demons and whatever else was trapped in here from the past, now isn’t exactly the time to berate Gunner.”
“Why the hell did you thrust your hand into that mess anyway?” Ian asked.
“You don’t see her?” Forrest asked with a fierce glare.
“Who?” Ian asked, turning his attention to the gel enclosure.
Ian and Gunner both stared into the thick wall for several moments until their eyes widened. Perhaps due to the texture’s odd bluish-green tint, they had not noticed her at first glance either.
“Is that … Penelope?” Gunner asked.
“That’s her,” Forrest replied.
Gunner smiled. His eyes widened. In a near whisper, he said, “She’s beautiful.”
“I’ve always thought so,” Forrest said.
Ian frowned. “Is she alive?”
“I honestly don’t know,” Forrest said. “She’s been somehow frozen in time, but I cannot get any closer and as you know, I cannot pull my arm out either.”
Gunner dropped the demon head and offered the short sword to Ian. “Perhaps you could use this to slice through the barrier?”
Ian took the sword, studied the blade for several long moments, and then glanced questionably at Forrest.
Forrest shrugged. “It’s worth a try.”
“It might get wedged tightly like your arm,” Ian said.
“If so, it won’t fall into the hands of another demon.”
“That’s true.” Ian took the hilt in both hands and placed the tip of the blade against the gooey wall near Forrest’s arm. He shoved the blade. The wall offered no resistance, nor did it seek to grasp the sword like it had Forrest’s arm. Ian carved out a small wedge of the wall. The squishy substance plopped to the ground with a sticky smacking. Ian moved the blade closer to Forrest’s trapped forearm and trimmed away another long strip. After Ian lowered the blade, Forrest pushed down on his arm and dislodged it.
Forrest’s arm fell limp to his side. The cold substance that had trapped his forearm had completely numbed it.
“I think I can cut a path to her,” Ian said.
Guttural growls and hisses formed a tighter circle around their position.
Forrest gave a quick glance toward the smoky wall. “Do so, but hurry. I’m afraid our releasing her is what they have waited a long time to occur. They are going to attack soon.”
Gunner glanced around. The smoky veil was too thick for any of them to see through, but the chattering and hungry squeals of what was hiding pressed even closer. Several deep snorts and chuffs gruffly expelled from what must have been larger demons or unknown creatures. These didn’t seem to be trying to get the scent of Forrest, Gunner, and Ian because they were already aware of their intrusion into this concealed chamber of the past. The impatient sounds of these unseen demons indicated what Forrest had already predicted. They were preparing to charge.
Ian fileted his way through the cold gelatin-like wall, carving a narrow path toward Penelope. Even though the blade flayed through Penelope’s domed prison, the task wasn’t a quick process because whatever layers he sliced through needed to be removed before he could advance any further. The good thing, at least from Forrest’s observation, was that the dissected walls weren’t congealing back together. At least not yet.
Forrest rubbed his numbed right arm, trying to get some of the feeling to return. After a few minutes of squeezing and massaging his forearm, the fingers on his right hand tingled. Heat pricked like sharp stinging needles from his hand to his elbow as the circulation slowly returned.
The strange cold goo retreated from Ian’s blade as he had carved a path to Penelope, but she was still encased. He stopped short of her and glanced toward Forrest with a curious stare.
Forrest took a long sharp hunting knife from its sheath on his belt and tried to cut through the wall’s surface. Unlike the short sword Ian used, Forrest’s blade proved ineffective. The blade penetrated through the wall but wasn’t able to cut away portions of it like Ian had done with the sword. Wherever Forrest inserted the knife, the goo congealed around it. Any movements he made with the knife was not any more effective than stirring water in a pot with a large spoon.
“Forrest,” Ian said. “I’m afraid to cut much closer to her.”
“Why’s that?”
“I don’t want to accidentally cut her.”
“I’d help, but the path you’ve cut is too narrow for me to walk through.”
Ian turned and with several harsh overhead and downward swings, he sliced wider swaths on each side of the path as he walked to Forrest. “Is that better?”
The slices of the loosened gel slid and sloshed onto the narrow floored path, oozing out from the once protective dome like a sluggish stream. Oddly, whatever part of the gel this blade touched, it liquefied whatever properties that had kept the walls upright.
Forrest looked at Gunner. “You got this blade from one of the demons?”
Gunner nodded.
“Odd,” Forrest replied.
“Why?” Ian asked.
“I’m just curious as to why they’ve never used the blade to get to her?”
“Perhaps they are the ones who had imprisoned her?” Ian asked.
“I don’t think so, although I don’t rightly know,” Forrest replied. “To me it appears she was sealed inside this jelly dome to protect her from the demons. Since she killed one of the behemoths, it’s doubtful they’d allow her to live.”
Gunner frowned. “That’s not exactly living.”
“I know, but leaving her like this would be a constant taunt to the other demons trapped inside this portal with her. Don’t you think?”
Ian frowned and nodded. “I see your point.”
The guttural growls grew angrier, pressing closer.
“They don’t seem happy about us trying to get to her, so it might be possible that they did enclose her,” Ian said.
“Either way, we need to get her out,” Forrest said. “Gunner, stand at the opening of the path while Ian and I free her the rest of the way. Once we release her, they are probably going to charge.”
Gunner bore his sharp gnarled teeth and growled, looking toward the closing smoke. The jagged claws on his hands lengthened.
Forrest followed Ian down the path that stopped only inches from Penelope. He gazed into her still eyes and a lump rose in his throat that was almost impossible to swallow. He didn’t know if releasing her would be a rescue or not. She might already be dead and had been placed into the gel dome to preserve their victory by having killed one of the Demon-hunters. Pulling her out of the adhesive goo might be in vain. She might be nothing more than a corpse.
Ian shook his head and offered the blade to Forrest. “I don’t want to cut her.”
Forrest smiled. “Look, just carve slowly around the base of her feet and up to her hand holding the bow. Once I get a grip on her arm, cut as close as you can. The blade seems to be dissolving whatever this substance is. But, with my help, I might be able to pull her free. I need to catch her, if that happens.”
Ian took a deep breath. Steadily, he ran the tip of the blade around her boots and slowly brought the blade up, slicing an outline up the side of her leg to her belt. The viscous gel peeled away, cascading like thick sludgy water. He continued until he reached her extended left arm where her hand clutched the bow. Once her arm was released from the gel, Forrest grabbed it with both hands.
“Keep carving around her. It’s working. You don’t have to be too close. It appears she’s was encapsulated by a spell, and if so, I don’t understand why they never used the sword. Hurry.”
Ian made his way around Penelope, slicing thin layers of the dome away from her. Within a few minutes, the entire center of the dome dissolved and Forrest scooped her limp body against him, preventing her from falling. Her face touched his. It was colder than marble. Like death. He wrapped his arms around her, hoping his warmth dispelled the coldness that claimed her. Tears burned his eyes.
“Penelope,” he whispered in her ear. She didn’t respond, nor was she breathing. He held her tighter, afraid to lose his final hope, but worried that it didn’t matter.
“Forrest,” Gunner said. “Here they come!”
The smoke vanished and a small horde of horned demons with black evil eyes rushed toward them. Their hideous faces resembled nothing he had ever seen before. Their deep wrinkles outlined the constant fury of their anger and hatred. They held absolute revulsion toward mankind. Cassie had been right. These demons were nothing like those he had seen at Nocturnal Trinity. These vile creatures thrived by bringing destruction. They were the front line that carved through flesh and bone to make a path for the greater demons.
No rationality reflected in their gazes, only madness and their lust to shed blood.
Forrest realized his new dilemma. He couldn’t set Penelope down without one of these demons killing or taking her, and he couldn’t fight effectively at all while holding her. Now that she was in his arms, he simply couldn’t release her because he didn’t want to lose her again.
He doubted Ian and Gunner would be capable of fighting all of them without his help. And if she was already dead, it didn’t matter. He had no need to protect her. No, you mustn’t think that way.
The dead bodies on the ground shifted suddenly. Hands flexed as he had seen before, which he had thought were only his eyes playing tricks on him. But, it was very real. Their bodies squirmed, slowly pushing themselves upward and trying to stand. They outnumbered the demons more than five to one from his observation, but that was only in the area nearest him.
The undead men turned toward Forrest and the were-otter brothers, alongside the approaching demons. Forrest clung to Penelope. He didn’t want to lower to the ground. He had waited far too long in hopes of ever being reunited with her again.
The demons shrieked, extending their long claws, and bearing their sharp pointed teeth. None of them held swords or weapons. They didn’t need them. He was curious as to why the one had the sword that allowed Ian to cut through Penelope’s prison.
These demons kept their attention on Forrest, Ian, and Gunner. The dead men didn’t interest them. The demons had killed them once before, so the demons were bent on killing everything else that wasn’t a demon. But each one looked to have only one goal in mind. Taking Penelope.