Bereft: Foretold

9 | A Foiled Escape

The Gate wasn't located in the most convenient of locations, but I'd visited worse in times of need.

It lay nestled in the earth's crust, some fifteen feet below the surface. Such dynamics were trivial when a Sin could pass through the Realm and thus bypass the material world—but when travel through the alternate plane was impossible, having the gate fifteen feet underground was problematic. 

That was the reason why I was parking the car on an arid, abandoned lot by the interstate's underpass. When construction of the highway had begun decades ago, Amoroth—being the clever wretch that she is—influenced the building of the road and had its course altered to cross over the Gate. Footings for the bridge had to be dug, and while those had been created, a tunnel had been burrowed to the Gate itself and disguised as an access to the sewers.

Rank steam billowed from the tunnel's grate in defiance of the untempered rain. The concrete supports of the overpass were defaced with several layers of graffiti—but where the grate lay, the walls were clear of all markings aside from a line of crimson scripture: "the sting of death is sin, the power of sin is law."

"Everything should be in order for you," Amoroth said from the backseat, her fingers pale as exposed bone as she gripped them together. "Your accounts, your identity, and a sizable share of K.I.I stock have been procured. It should be more than adequate for the duration of your—." Life. For the duration of my short, mortal life. "—time here. I've contingencies set up for the event of my 'disappearance,' though things would have gone smoother had my assistant not been torn to bits by vampires." 

From the passenger's seat came Cage's low, inappropriate chuckling. "I bet that wasn't in the job description."

The back door opened and Amoroth moved out into the rain, spurred on by the relentless presence of the Absolian's power thrashing in the city behind us. I got out as well, though I wasn't needed. I was simply uneasy with the idea of waiting in the car for Cage to finish opening the Gate for Amoroth. 

Why, by the Pit, I asked myself with no small amount of irritation. Am I waiting for the mage anyway? I should leave him here. I should leave this damnable city, mortal or no. The Absolians presence has me far too uneasy.

I glanced at the mage as he followed us from the vehicle, his lips moving in silent incantation to shift the fall of the rain away from himself. He caught my annoyed stare and grinned. 

If I abandon him, I'll never find out if what he said about Sara is true.

My brow lowered, but I said nothing. 

Amoroth was the first to reach the grate, and she didn't bother to fumble with the latch or the lock. She curled her fingers through the rusted latticework and yanked, ripping the entire cover from its place with an ear-piercing shriek of protesting metal. Without thought, Amoroth tossed the grate aside and peered into the fuliginous depths of the tunnel below.

"Does it always smell like that?" Cage asked over the boom of the cars speeding overhead and the clash of falling rain. He covered his nose as a new plume of brimstone-scented steam took to the skies.

"Yes," I said from behind the two of them. "The barrier between the realms is exceptionally thin here, which brings their environments close to one another. The Realm is quite hot, while much of the Pit is very cold. The friction between the two causes this." I jerked my chin toward the greasy exhaust.

There were no more questions as Amoroth removed her shoes and hopped into the dark. The mage was leerier of the black passage—but I wordlessly shoved him forward, and the man fell with a short yell and a rustle of flailing cloth. Smirking, I jumped in.