And at the foot of that red pool are two men on horseback.
Our escorts.
My scalp tingles, a feeling of uneasiness spreading through me. I know that’s an understatement considering all the truly bonkers shit I’ve gone through today, but there’s something about this sight that sends waves of fear through me. More than going into that lake, this is the real point of no return, the feeling of never going back. Once we scramble down this rocky hillside, that’s it.
We’ll be in Skarde’s territory.
And even though the flat snowy plane seems to stretch forever, ending at the beginning of a raspberry-colored sunset, I know that Skarde lives on that horizon.
“Come on,” Natalia says, touching my elbow again. “No turning back now.”
I take in a deep breath and nod.
Here we go.
We quickly make our way down the cliff, the uneven and steep terrain no problem for our vampire dexterity, my footing as sure as a mountain goat, and then we’re on level ground.
And I get a better look at these two horsemen.
“What the fuck,” I gasp.
The men on the horses are skeletons in black cloaks, their faces hidden in darkness by their hoods. That doesn’t really surprise me after having to deal with the Lapp Witches. No, what has me all ‘what the fuck’ are the horses.
They’re skeletons made of metal and muscle, iron and copper and flesh intertwining together in a holy abomination, crimson mane and tail of blood, smoke that flows from their gaping nostrils. They don’t have eyes, just sockets, and just like the deer people, you don’t want to stare into them for too long.
“Oh my god, it’s the Hiisi horses,” Natalia says softly, seeming just as surprised as I am. She glances at me in awe. “It’s from Finnish mythology and the Kalevala.”
“Well, it’s not mythology if they’re real,” I tell her. I’m glad I don’t know anything about their mythology because if this is a sample of it, then I probably don’t want to know what else might lie ahead of us. At school we studied the myths of Ancient Mesopotamia and if any of those myths popped up for real, we’d all be in big trouble.
“Time to get moving, witch,” Kaleid says sharply to me, grabbing my arm so hard that his fingers bruise my inner bicep.
“Ow,” I tell him, but then Natalia grabs my other arm, holding me just as tight, and I know the plan has officially come into play. I’m their prisoner, which means Kaleid gets to manhandle me all he wants.
And manhandle me he does. We walk and walk across that endless snowy landscape, the death riders on either side of us, and he’s constantly tugging at me, hurting me, swearing at me. A few times Natalia shoots him daggers with her eyes to stop it, but he stays in character. I’m starting to think he’s relishing it. I’m starting to think this is his character and that Solon’s brother is a sick bastard.
Finally, a shape begins to take form on the horizon, near a blood-red sky that’s ever-changing shades above a roaring crimson ocean. The Arctic Ocean? Some other ocean in another world? Either way, it’s a contrast to the endless white snow, the waves powerful, the feeling of a deadly cold and fathomless deep beneath the churning red surface. Occasionally, lightning will strike, red and gold streaks that reach down from dark clouds.
And as we get closer, the shape on the shore becomes something recognizable, like a castle of some sort. And as we get even closer, I realize what it really is—ruins. The dilapidated remains of something that I imagine was once grand and sprawling but is now just piles of rock and stone in some places.
“This is the palace you lived in?” I ask Natalia, surveying the ruins as we approach.
“God no,” she whispers. “This is a world I’ve never been to before. I would have escaped this place a long time ago.”
“Providing there is an escape,” I note.
Kaleid clears his throat, glaring at me so sharply that I feel it in my blood. Right. The act. Like hell Skarde is going to believe this, I don’t know why Kaleid is even bothering. We’re screwed.
Fuck, I wish Solon was here. In one way I’m glad he’s not, because he’s safe where he is. I have no doubt he would try to kill his father, and that his father would try to kill him, and honestly I don’t know how that would end. At least he’s with Dracula, back in the real world where horses aren’t made of metal and bone and where a depraved vampire king doesn’t live in a crumbling castle, waiting for us.
Because of course he’s waiting for us. He sent these death escorts our way. He knows we’re coming and he’s a hell of a lot more prepared than we’ll ever be.