BURN IN HADES (26 page)

Now they were free.

He shivered from nervousness, and during the ride, Kate talked more than usual. Perhaps it only seemed that way because they were spending more time together than normal. Thinking about it so much made him more nervous. His ability to speak escaped him. He simply nodded and gave one word answers during their one-sided conversation.

Halfway to town he stopped the carriage at a lake swimming with swans and allowed the horse to drink. The summer air was now fine as cream gravy. The sun shined unencumbered by any clouds, and the big ocean-blue sky was absent any blemish. The world around them had dried up as if it had never rained all night.

The rest of the way to town, Kate leaned on him and napped. His shoulder burned from friction, but her touch and the fragrance of her hair was worth the pain. She could lay on him for all eternity, he’d never complain.

Two hours before noon, he and Kate arrived in town. Wagons and carriages rolled over crackling rubble; spurs jingled at the heels of men in velveteen suits; workers hammered on half-constructed buildings; a photographer in the middle of main road snapped pictures; a townsman relaxed in a chair outside the barbershop, leg up on the post, watching the world go by; and a group of older boys, all barefoot, hung around. Boys like them were always on the shoot, looking for trouble.

There was a powerful sense of freedom Charles felt from being in town without Mr. Beckwourth. He could go anywhere and do anything he wanted—within reason.

He parked the carriage in front of the train station and split the merchant list with Kate. The two of them worked together at an energetic pace and finished running the errands within an hour. With a bit of time to dilly around before the train arrived, Kate ordered a milkshake from the Fruits & Cold Drinks merchant and shared it with Charles behind the drugstore so no one would see. Later, she also split a donut and ice cream with him. It was the best day of his life.

“I’m going to take a look inside Dress Making,” said Kate. “Ms. Abigail was making a dress earlier that I adore.” She darted off.

Charles entered Dry Goods and Clothing. He needed new clothes, especially boots. He browsed the shop and found a pair of button shoes. He purchased a whole outfit for fifteen dollars, and he still had fifteen left over. The merchant placed all his items in a box just as the locomotive’s whistle blew in the distance. He carried his box outside to the porch.

Deep in the valley, smoke puffed off the train’s shoulders like a black cape as it slowly chugged down the tracks.

Two of the barefooted boys from earlier stood at one end of the sidewalk. They stared at Charles and snickered in a way that unsettled him. Did they see him and Kate drinking from the same cup?

Thunder rumbled in the sky.

He paced across the road to the carriage as if it would inherently provide him safety. The boys followed his steps down the sidewalk. Charles kept an eye on them with side glances. At least Mr. Carson was on his way now. If the boys tried anything funny, the boss would step in.

Relieved when he finally made it to the carriage, he sat his box of clothes in the seat. A boy jumped out from under the carriage and stole the box.

Charles snatched for the box. The thief tossed it over the carriage and into the hands of another barefoot boy. Charles raced around the carriage. A slug bushwhacked him from behind. He twisted and slammed to the ground chest first, splashing in the mud. It was the one spot on the road that hadn’t dried up yet. His entire front was covered in thick brawn muck.

Giggles and taunts surrounded him. The bullies dug into his pockets and bilked his fifteen dollars. Charles gathered himself from the dirt.

People strolled past, minding their own business, and glanced at Charles in a way that indicated they believed that he deserved the treatment. Did they all witness him and Kate behind the drugstore sharing food and drink? Was that so bad?

The ring leader of the group of boys wore Charles’s new hat and held Mr. Beckwourth’s pocket watch. Charles snatched the chain end of the pocket watch. The boy flicked it open and closed it repeatedly, dangling it out of his reach.

A door flapped open and out popped the meat merchant, blood splotched all over his apron. “You’ve had your fun, boys,” said the meat merchant. “But you’re gonna have to take the rest of your bulldozin’ away from my shop. You’re upsetting my customers.”

The barefoot boys shinned out laughing. Kate ran out of the Dress Making shop from across the road and rushed over to Charles. He dried his eyes before she got close.

“Did they hurt you?” she asked.

“They were just horsin’ around.” He forced a smile, but his emotions slipped through. He turned away, trying to hide his face from her, but by then it was no use pretending.

“What happened?” she asked.

“They took my hat, my clothes and my money, but I don’t care.”

“You should care. That’s not right.” A scowl plastered on her face just like the angry frown her mother always carries around. But this time Charles wasn’t the recipient of the evil glare.

Kate spun her head around toward the five boys giggling under the awning in front of the hotel. The ringleader twirled Charles’s hat around his finger and then propped it on his head.

Thunder boomed overhead and the clouds had darkened.

“I don’t care about what they stole from me,” said Charles, “I can get more stuff. But they took Mr. Beckwourth’s pocket watch. I promised him I wouldn’t lose it. I don’t know what I’m gonna do. He’s gonna whoop—”

Kate marched away and had already stomped halfway to a confrontation with the boys before Charles could plead with her to let it go. He trailed behind her.

“Here kitty kitty,” said the ringleader, leaning up against a post. The boys sitting on the porch laughed.

“Give him back his belongings, Jesse.” said Kate.

“I haven’t the slightest clue as to what you’re referring to,” said Jesse.

“The money you all stole from Charlie. Return his clothes too and that pocket watch. It’s not his. It belongs to someone else.”

“I thought we were friends, Kitty.”

“I told you, don’t call me that.”

“Then don’t go calling me no thief.”

“You’re wearing his hat.” She snatched for the hat.

Jesse grabbed her arm. Charles stepped forward. The other boys pressed their palms against his chest, holding him back.

“This here is my hat,” said Jesse. “Now, calling me a thief is one thing. But implying that I’m also liar, them’s mighty harsh accusations.”

“You’re hurting my arm,” said Kate.

Jesse released her. She snatched the hat off his head.

Jesse sprung off the post he was leaning on, and loomed over Kate. She backed away, now looking like a frightened coyote, trembling at the presence of a mountain lion.

“You know the only thing worse than a lying nigger,” said Jesse, “is a nigger lover. They may as well be a nigger themselves.”

Charles jumped to Kate’s defense. He swallowed hard. He had never been in a fight before.

Jesse smirked. “They must both want to be learnt a lesson, boys.”

Two boys grabbed Charles from behind and held his arms back. The other three boys grabbed Kate at her sides and lifted her off her feet. She struggled as they carried her to the carriage, laughing as though it was the funniest sight they had ever seen. They tossed Kate into the carriage. One of the boys smacked the horse on the ass. The carriage took off, running away with Kate.

“What’d you go and do that for?” said Jesse.

“I thought—”

Jesse shoved the boy. “I do the thinking.”

The carriage raced down Main Street and out of town. A rage Charles had never felt in his life came over him. His heart thumped. His vision tunneled.

The sky dropped bucket loads of rain onto the town.

He found the strength to break free of the boys’ hold. He punched one, laid the boy out. He grabbed the arm of the other and slung him into the hotel door. Jesse backed away, palms up. Charles jammed his hand into Jesse’s pocket and snatched Mr. Beckwourth’s watch.

“I’ll be back for the rest later.” He raised his fist. Jesse ducked.

Without hitting the boy, Charles leapt off the sidewalk and saddled a horse tied to a post outside the hotel. He raced the horse as fast as it could run down Main Street and out of town. It only took him a few minutes to catch up to the side of the runaway carriage. He reached out to Kate.

She stared down at the whisking ground and shook her head. “I can’t.”

“I won’t let you fall,” he said.

She extended her hand, timidly. The carriage turned sharply and threw Kate to the rear seat. He raced up alongside the carriage again.

“You all right?” he asked.

She nodded.

“I’ll come to you this time. Don’t worry. I’m gonna save you.”

He placed both feet on the slippery saddle and crouched, preparing to jump. He balanced and leapt over to the carriage. Kate caught him in her arms. They locked eyes and were lost to the world around them for a lifetime.

The carriage struck a bump and threw Charles off of Kate. He climbed to the front of the carriage. The reins dragged on the ground, impossible to reach. He leaned over the dash rail and prepared to jump onto the horse’s back.

The carriage slid around a bend. He slipped and fell over the dash, gripping onto the rail. His feet dragged along the ground, dragging a trail through the mud. The wheels sloshed on either side of him. Rain and mud beat him in the face. Mr. Beckwourth’s pocket watch dropped out of his pocket. The rear wheels ran over it.

Kate grabbed his wrists and heaved him back into the carriage. Charles took a breath to gather himself, angry that he had dropped the watch after getting it back from the bullies.

He leapt on the horse’s back and placed his hand on its damp mane just as Dimentia, the old woman from the plantation, had taught him when he had first learned about his magic touch. He stroked the horse, and it came to a sliding halt.

He hopped out of the carriage and helped Kate down. She embraced him and buried her face in his chest. He held her tight and comforted her.

A horse galloped up to them. The identity of the rider was hidden behind the veil of heavy rain. Charles held Kate closer to him. He released her when Mr. Carson leapt off the horse. Kate flung herself into her father’s arms whimpering.

“Don’t worry,” said Cross. “I’m gonna save you.”

Determined to heal his precious Raven, he sailed the flying boat north toward Niflheim, gliding and bobbing over every obstacle in his way. The flying boat simply skimmed over rivers, barely touching them. The pale horses galloped across the liquid surfaces while Gimlet swam.

For a week, Cross’s emotions swayed between genuine concern for the Raven’s wellbeing and caring more about her half of the secret to the location of the last Toran. Escaping the underworld won out mostly, but in his chest pulsed increasing warmth for the Raven.

She lay in the cabin helpless and innocent and suffering. His destruction of such a beautiful creature didn’t sit right with him all of a sudden.

He wrapped her in the blanket. “Don’t you give up, you stinkin’ buzzard. We ain’t got too far now. You just—” A jolt of pain stabbed his palm. He pulled the splinter out of his hand and tossed it, blindly.

He grabbed the Raven’s delicate body and shook her. She let out a gasp. It wasn’t a final release of breath. He had heard those before. Her gasp was the wonderful sound of shallow breathing. She hadn’t burned! But that didn’t explain why he had gotten the splinter.

The splinters never preceded the second death of someone close to him. He had always gotten the sign afterwards. They were never omens of things to come, only confirmation of things that had already happened. The Raven must’ve burned briefly and somehow came back. But he had never seen any spirit come back from second death and always thought it was impossible.

If the Raven hadn’t burned, the sign could have announced someone else’s second death. But whose? He hoped it wasn’t his old friend Sinuhe. That’s who he was taking the Raven to see. Sinuhe and the other monks of Vingólf were the only souls he could think of that would be able to heal her.

He used the techniques he had learned from the monks to take great care of the Raven over the next months’ worth of traveling. Had it been him on the verge of second death he suspected he wouldn’t have lasted as long, but the Raven clung on to her afterlife, going in and out of consciousness. He didn’t know how she was fighting the Nothing from taking over her spirit, but at some point the black growth had stopped spreading. There was only a hint of the Nothing on her neck.

He examined her face, arms and legs, and they were all clear. The poison calabash juice in her system could have been defeating the Nothing or the Nothing itself was curing her of the toxins from the fruit. Both in combination should have burned her though, unless they canceled each other out. Either way, the Raven was a strong woman, the strongest woman he had ever known besides Kate. Neither of them was weak like him.

Halfway to Niflheim, he reached the abyss of Ginnungagap. It stretched for many periods of sleep in front of him and miles to the east into the Inferno. To avoid any of the Anarchist troops marching out of Kurnugia, he traveled along the orange and green edges of the Ginnungagap until he came to a bridge, which cut through the yawning abyss, making for a slightly shorter journey than going around its edge.