Oliver took a series of naps, but since time was no longer a factor, it was difficult to tell how he was supposed to feel.
Was he hungry? He’d had an enormous breakfast, but the transition from the glom had taken a lot out of him. Did they serve lunch in Hell? Should he have packed a snack? Why was he suddenly thinking about food? He felt tired and mixed up; it felt a little like jet lag, which he was still fighting. He hoped Mimi knew where she was going.
He had agreed to come with her. After graduation, when Mimi heard he had deferred his Harvard acceptance, she had offered him the position as her Conduit, and he had accepted.
His parents had tried to talk him out of it, had wanted him to keep his position at the Repository, where he would be safe.
But the clerks were only interested in storing and archiving, preparing for the eventual dissolution of the Coven. It was dis-heartening. He wasn’t sure what would happen if the vampires went underground, and his parents didn’t seem to know either. Joining Mimi seemed the more adventuresome task, and he wanted to be of service. He didn’t want to spend hours doing inventory.
It was also becoming clear to Oliver that Mimi could not handle the Regency alone, and she would need Kingsley’s firm hand alongside hers to guide the flailing Coven. Oliver took his duty as a vampire’s Conduit seriously. He would not let the Coven fail, and he was determined to fulfill his duty to the Blue Bloods by ensuring that Mimi had what she needed to keep the Coven safe and whole, no matter what kind of sacrifice it would entail on his part.
Besides, he considered Mimi a friend. They had come to an understanding, and Oliver was surprised at how well they got along. He’d realized that underneath the princess act was an old and practical creature, and he respected her. When she’d invited him to come down to the underworld with her, he’d jumped at the chance, out of duty, curiosity, and a desire to make sure she was safe. She might be the fearsome Angel of Death, but even Mimi had a heart that could be broken, and Oliver didn’t want her to be alone if she failed in rescuing Kingsley. She would need a friend. What did he have to lose?
He’d already lost Schuyler.
Still, they drove for what seemed like hours. For miles and miles there was nothing on the radio but the “Ride of the Valkyries,” which definitely got old after the nth go-round.
Oliver could sense Mimi’s growing frustration, and it was with relief that at last they reached a primitive-looking checkpoint—just a wooden sawhorse against the road—and beyond it a small gas station.
Two men—Oliver thought they looked like men, but on closer look they were not men at all—spoke to Mimi in a language he could not understand. They were almost nine feet tall, and their large bulky bodies were covered in matted brown fur, while their facial features were gnarled and twisted, with bulbous noses and beady yellow eyes. They wore painful-looking collars made of silver barbed wire.
Mimi made some strange noises that sounded like grunts.
After a moment the men moved away to confer with their supervisor.
“What are they?” Oliver whispered.
“Trolls. They work here… for the demons.”
“Ugly things.” Oliver shuddered. “Those collars.”
“The only thing keeping them from attacking us,” Mimi said in a matter-of-fact tone.
The collars were wound tightly around the trolls’ necks, and drew blood every time they moved. Oliver could not help but feel repulsion and pity for the creatures.
He looked around. “So this Helda you’re meeting—she’s a demon?”
“No.” Mimi shook her head. “She’s more like their…
grandmother.”
Oliver blanched, and Mimi continued to explain. “She’s one of the goddesses. The old ones, before we came along, like the witch we visited in North Hampton.”
“There’s so much I don’t know about the world,” Oliver murmured.
The trolls returned and motioned to a gas station beyond the checkpoint. Mimi parked the car. “Wait here,” she said.
“With them?” Oliver balked. He wished he’d thought to put the roof up, but now it was too late. The trolls sniffed him, one leaning forward so closely, Oliver could feel its hot breath on his cheek. “Human,” it said to the other, in perfect English.
“Living.” His friend nodded with a sly smile.
“He’s mine, beastia! Touch him and you’ll know the taste of Azrael’s steel,” Mimi snapped. The trolls backed away, but Oliver wasn’t sure if he felt safer. They were still looking at him as if he were dinner.
“They’re only teasing you. They don’t eat meat,” she assured him. Mimi neglected to add “only souls,” but Oliver didn’t have to know that, and he looked terrified enough already. “Stop being such a wuss. Trolls, leave him alone.”
Mimi walked toward the small office located in the back of the gas station. She didn’t want to tell Oliver, but the endless driving had bothered her. She’d worried that it was a sign that Helda would not allow her past the lower levels, and she would have to reach the seventh if she was going to find Kingsley. Another troll, a fierce female with a bronze mane
, guarded the door to Helda’s office. The she-troll was wearing a heavy iron sash loaded with bullets, and carrying what looked like an AK-47. She gave Mimi a pat-down to check for weapons. “What’s this?” she asked, her hand on Mimi’s back.