CW/TW: This chapter contains some fairly graphic horror-style violence. Nothing worse than you'd see in a PG13 movie, but consider yourself warned💀
Resolutions were well and good, but Mads was relieved when they finally opened the door. She'd wound the ropes back around her wrists, though she could free herself in moments. But she hated sitting alone in the dark with just the stinging pain from her hand to keep her alert.
Two more women had come to retrieve her. She recognized neither of them, but all of these women were starting to look the same anyhow. They didn't speak to her; they just grabbed her arm and shoved her ahead of them.
The corridor seemed incredibly bright after the dark room, and Mads found herself blinking away tears as her eyes tried to adjust. Her robe's hem was covered in red dirt, and there were bloody handprints on her side. Apparently, this wasn't a problem, as the women herded her into a cavernous room without even taking her somewhere to wash the dried blood off of her hands.
The first thing that hit her was the extreme heat. Mads winced, squinting against the warmth and the blazing lights. The floor around them was cut from living rock, not a floor at all, and great chasms lined the sides of the narrow path that her captor-guides were pulling her down.
Mads could see the red of magma, far below them, which explained the heat. Some sort of melty tar or pitch oozed over and alongside the path as well, dripping into the cracks. The walls were hung with tapestries, and there were bronze trenches filled with fire, which was the source of all the light, and another reason the huge space felt like an open oven.
At the end of the room was a large stone dais, with a gigantic throne in the center. An equally enormous white stone statue stood in front of the throne: Andhera. The statue's arms were held out, as if it were meant to be holding something large.
Five more figures in white robes lined the walkway in front of Mads. Five human women, all young, some barely in their teens, by the look of them. Ahead of them all, on the steps to the dais, were a dozen guards in the bone armor, their faces pointed at the ground, and behind these men, stood a line of twelve women in red robes. And finally, seated on the throne, was a long-limbed woman. The High Priestess, Mads supposed. The woman wore a crown made from the skull of some ancient overland animal, its antlers stretching far beyond her head and making her seem both otherworldly and massively tall.
Mads' escorts stepped back, retreating to the sides of the room, and Mads noticed that the sides of the room held many other women, too many to count. They were all watching the dais with wide, fixed eyes.
The woman on the throne raised a pale arm, jangling her metal and bone bangles. A single red-robed woman began herding the white-robed girls up the dais, with Mads in the last position. The red-robed woman arranged them in a line, three on each side of the Andhera icon.
"Greetings, my children." The High Priestess used no visible amplifying or broadcasting devices, but her powerful, low, musical voice carried well enough across the large space. "We gather yet again to beseech the goddess, to do penance for losing her favor. Six is the number of perfection, and behold, we have six offerings. Perhaps this is a sign of favor? Perhaps our years of mourning are finally ending."
There was no response, but the room was heavy, as if everyone were holding their breath. Everyone was watching the woman with expectant faces, their eyes wide and attentive.
"We have observed the six days of shame, to mourn what was stolen from us." The High Priestess' voice trembled a little, but she sounded angry rather than nervous. However, her face was smooth and expressionless.
Stolen, Mads registered the word a moment later, and she recalled that Jupiter Jive was the one who had stolen their, icon, was it? Some sort of icon. That's what Luc had said. And Mads also realized that Jive could be here right now. It was Jive's fault she was in this mess. Mads glared at nothing in particular, and found one of the bone-clad guards was looking at her from across the room. Mads quickly averted her eyes, not wanting to make them suspicious.
"Moonrise is almost upon us," intoned the priestess. "And the first offering must be given." She raised a hand, and one of the bone-guards stepped forward, taking the arm of the first white-robed victim. The rest of the guards closed ranks around the sacrifices.
Mads looked up, horrified, as the slight, young girl was scooped up bodily by the man, and deposited into the waiting bone-white arms of the Andhera statue. This could not happen. The girl looked hardly past fifteen, and her black eyes were wide with terror.
Mads took a step forward, but a hand clenched her wrist. She looked up into gleaming green eyes and a furious scowl.
"Don't," hissed Luc, before he started toward the statue himself.
What is he doing? Mads glanced around, looking for anyone who could be Jupiter Jive. It hit her then, that anyone in this cavern could be Jupiter Jive, and she'd probably just walked into the middle of Luc's scheme to reveal the wily thief.
There was a murmur up ahead, and the woman on the throne rose to her feet. "This is the wrong one," she said, her voice cold.
The guard removed the young girl from the statue, causing Mads to breathe a sigh of relief. In front of her, Luc stopped his foreword creep.
"The eldest must go first," said the woman, scowling at those assembled. She left the throne and padded over to the six white-robed women. Mads froze, and saw Luc do the same out of the corner of her eye.
The woman was still tall up close, and her horned headdress made her tower over Mads and the other women. She stopped beside Mads, cocking her head. "You're the new one," she said, softly, for only their ears.
Mads turned, meeting the woman's gaze, but remaining silent.
"How many years have you suffered apart from the goddess?" intoned the High Priestess, expressionless.
It took Mads a moment to realize that she was being asked how old she was. "Twenty-seven." She muttered.
"Ah ha, I thought as much." The woman indicated the guard nearest Luc. "This one."
Before Mads could consider what the woman meant, the guard– an enormous fellow with bulging shoulders – had picked Mads up and was carrying her bodily toward the statue instead. Mads caught a glimpse of Luc as the man set her down, and saw something like panic flash across his pale face, but he wasn't looking at her.
No, he was looking up, up at the distant cavern ceiling.
Mads looked up as well, feeling strangely distant as she was settled into the cold and uncomfortable embrace of the Andhera statue. The statues' eyes were made of glittery black stone, and they seemed to be looking down at her. Mads felt her stomach curdle.
"Moonrise," announced the priestess.
Three things happened all at once, and Mads could never quite recall what happened first.
The fires nearest them went out with a startling pop.
A gust of fetid air blew through the cavern.
And someone screamed.
Mads jolted, banging her head on the statue's chin, and saw that one of the offerings had swooned. Guards and red-robed women were scattering, and the Priestess was glowering at them all.
And then Mads saw it – the thing crumpled against the stairs – heaving and shuddering, and making a terrible low moaning sound.
She leaned forward, holding her breath.
There was a snap, like a bone breaking, and then the figure rose, towering eight, maybe nine feet above them. It seemed to be human-ish, but with limbs that twisted and bent the wrong way through the flickering flames. Smoke or shadow wreathed the figure, making it blur like a bad holo.
The thing climbed the dais, and no one moved to stop it.
Mads glanced at the frozen guards, sacrifices, and worshipers, then slid out of the statue's stone grip and scrambled to the ground. No one stopped her, but her movement caught the attention of the robed thing. Its head whipped to face her, and Mads heard a snuffling sound, as if it were scenting the air. She couldn't see under its hood, not clearly, but it seemed to have a dog's face, but the lines and angles were all too long and angular, maybe a dog's skull?
Oh stars, please, none of this is happening, none of this is real. Mads heart pounded as she watched the thing take a step, and then another step. There was a clicking sound, like popping knuckles, as it staggered toward Mads and the statue. Something was definitely wrong with its legs. They almost seemed to be backwards.
Mads shrank back, shaking off her ropes and wondering if she could get a knife off a guard in time.
The creature – it was not human – shook itself and sent its cloak flying.
Screams erupted around the chamber, making Mads jump, but she couldn't take her eyes off the, thing, in front of her. She wanted to close her eyes, deny its existence, but she was staring at something that was neither alien nor human. Impossible.
It looked like a rotting man, but also like a dog, tall and stretched, with blazing green eyes and an elongated jaw, sinew and rotten flesh mangled and stretched over its bones. It was holding a sort of necklace in one misshapen hand.
One of the guards finally recovered, and flung his spear, skewering the creature through the chest.
The creature growled, and snapped the spear like a twig, tossing it aside into the terror-frozen worshipers. Its howl was throaty and chilling, causing Mads to freeze. It was a sound she'd never heard before, but she knew what it meant. Prey. Hunt. Blood.
They were all going to die.
The spearman, now unarmed, quickly scrambled back from the thing in front of him. The creature crouched, watching the spearman, and then it pounced.
"Get out!" roared the Priestess, startling everyone into action.
Mads watched the first body basically explode in front of her, as the monster ripped it in half. She didn't know if it had been a man or a woman, but the blood spattered her face, and she couldn't move, couldn't breathe. This had to be a dream. This wasn't real.
The creature scrambled through the mess and collared a guard, bursting his head with a blow from its boney fist, as easily as if it were a melon. The thing was only a few feet away now, headed toward Mads, and the statue of Andhera.
A brave guard swung into the creature's way, but it was no use: he quickly joined the other bloody piles of former humans that were quickly filling the dais. The chamber was a chaotic riot of screams, yells, and the thunder of pounding feet as the worshippers fled, but Mads only had eyes for the creature rampaging so close to her.
The monster roared, an angry sound, and swiped yet another person who jumped into its path. Mads felt hot blood spatter her again as the body flew past. It made a heavy thud to her right, and Mads flinched, her stomach flipping about in disgust. But she was too shocked to run. The sheer panic of the crowd was like hands beating on her senses, making her short of breath with the force of their fear, making their terror her own. Her heart seemed to stop beating, her lungs contracted but wouldn't expand.
Mads felt her knees give out, and she dropped to the ground in front of the statue. She couldn't focus, couldn't breathe. Impossible. She closed her eyes and tried to inhale, but her senses were overwhelmed by the chaos of emotion around her, the sounds, the heat, the blood dripping down her face, and the creature's murderous reality. Something landed in front of her, clinking on the stone as it skittered to a stop at her knee. Mads' opened her eyes and frowned at it, focusing on the shape in an attempt to ignore the roaring in her ears.
It was a wooden amulet, about the size of her palm, with a leather cord. Mads picked it up with stiff, trembling fingers. There was blood on the wood, but Mads could just make out the figure of a many-armed woman on it.
She looked up – just in time to see the creature yank a knife out of its head.
It was staring straight at her. No, at the amulet.
It dropped the knife with a clang, and crouched down to spring, its eerie eyes on Mads. All the crowds' fears seemed to disappear, and it was only her, her heart stuttering back into a terrified race, and this creature, and its shifting, undefinable shadow shape that pulsed with hunger.
Mads glanced down at the amulet, then around to see if there was a weapon nearby. On the throne, the priestess had produced a sword from somewhere, and she was standing with the blade high, her pose defiant.
The priestess followed the gaze of the beast to Mads, and her eyes narrowed.
The monster gave a hollow cry, and shoved two more guards aside as they rushed to intercept it, sending them flying off the dais and into the chasm below. Their screams echoed the whole way down. Mads didn't have time to be sad for them, because the thing was lurching toward her, and she knew she was going to die.
But then the High Priestess was there, her sword between the creature and Mads.
"Come no farther, abomination!" roared the priestess, glancing quickly at Mads and the amulet in her frozen hands. "Give it to the statue!" The priestess whirled back to face the monster. "Now!"
Mads watched in horror as the priestess dodged the beast's dripping claws. A guard stabbed the creature from behind, and it howled in rage and turned to face him.
The priestess stepped back. "DO IT!" she yelled, her eyes fixed on the guard who was now lifted up by the neck. The creature clenched its bony fist. The man's neck snapped.
Mads scrambled to her feet, gasping for breath like she'd just surfaced after being submerged. She didn't know why she listened to the priestess. She didn't really believe her own eyes. But there were people screaming and dying and she had no better ideas, so she flung the necklace over the Andhera statue's white head.
The pendant came to rest at the base of the image's collarbone. Mads could have sworn that the thing's eyes glinted.
With a sound like the tearing of cloth and the breaking of bones, all of the remaining fires went out.
In the faint lava glow, Mads saw the monster topple, fall, roll down the steps of the dais, and then seemingly on into the chasm below, the sound of it hitting the lava lost in the din of fading screams and clashing of weapons.
The High Priestess lowered her sword and turned to face the statue, and to Mads' shock, the woman began to laugh. The sound rang out in the cavern, silencing the cries of the remaining worshippers and guards.
Finally, she stopped, and glanced around at the cowering survivors and wounded, the few who had not fled. "Well," she said. "That was unexpected." The priestess handed her sword to a red-robed woman. "My sisters, something lost has been found. Something stolen has been returned. Andhera has filled a man with the curse of her displeasure. And would someone get us a light, please? I can barely see in front of my feet."
Mads watched the shadows around her start to move, barely visible in the faint lava glow, frozen in shock and confusion, so she was startled when a damp hand covered her mouth, another grabbing her arm and pulling her toward the darkest part of the room.
Mads retched as the stench of rot and wet dog filled her nose, and the hand moved off her mouth.
"Come on," someone whispered in her ear, before dragging her down the side of the dais and into the shadows.
Mads was shaking so hard her teeth were chattering, and she didn't realize it until she bit her tongue. Her rescuer/captor pulled her out a small, side door, into utter darkness.
"Are you all right?" asked a familiar voice – Luc – only he sounded hoarse, as if he'd been screaming at the top of his lungs. The smell of dogs and death was overpowering now.
Mads swallowed once, disoriented. "Do you, do you have a light?" she managed. Her voice sounded foreign, distant, as if it were coming from somewhere else.
"Just a minute," he said, and she heard the clatter and click of bones, and the rustle of coarse fabric. Luc sighed, and Mads heard more rattling bones as he fumbled with something in the dark. "What are you doing here? They were going to sacrifice you!"
How dare you, how dare he sound angry? "I know," snapped Mads, but she wanted to cry, or scream, or throw up. Or all three. This shouldn't have been happening, couldn't be happening. If that thing hadn't shown up, she would be dead right now, sacrificed to some ancient goddess. If that thing hadn't shown up, all those other people would still be alive. If that thing was real . . . Mads denied even the thought. Impossible. That thing had worn the face of death itself, and Mads had seen her mortality in its eyes.
She had seen her lifeline cut off, but now everything inside her was confused.
Why was she hiding in a stuffy, smelly closet (?) with Luc, of all people? Not that she wanted him to go. She was as relieved at his presence as she was aggravated by him.
"I'm sorry." His voice turned soft, gentle, close by. "I didn't want you to come. Are you . . ." For the first time since she'd met him, he sounded truly unsure of himself. "Are you hurt?" She felt the lightest touch of his fingers on the side of her robe.
There was something different about him, she realized distantly, something about his voice, other than the hoarseness, as if, maybe . . . But Mads didn't have the mental energy to figure it out or even really care. Her ribs hurt, her lungs twinged, her sliced hand stung and seemed to be bleeding again, and her brain was replaying the monster's indefinite but terrible face, and the bloody deaths.
But she still registered Luc's question, the concern behind it, and she ran her hands over her arms, her sides, finding no new injuries. "I'm fine." Her voice still sounded foreign. "Only my hand, they cut it. I don't know, maybe this morning, maybe yesterday."
"Which one?"
"Right," she answered automatically. Her non-dominant hand, which was a plus.
"We'll have to take care of it later. There's no time. Let's go, they'll be out hunting you soon enough." Luc grabbed her good hand, startling her.
His hand was hot, callused, and suspiciously sticky. Why? And then he was pulling her through a door and into a dim, empty hall. The oil lights flickered and sputtered, but the light was too bright for Mads' smarting eyes.
"I didn't bring anything for you," said Luc, sounding annoyed, and Mads glanced at him, blinking owlishly as her eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness.
"Come on," he continued, tugging her down the corridor. "We don't have much time."
Mads followed, noticing that he no longer wore the guard's bone armor, but a roughly woven black tunic and pants. The weave was so coarse she could see the sheen of his skin through the sleeve. He had apparently changed his clothes in the closet. The bone clinking sound. Mads didn't want to think about that.
He paused at a turn, and she saw that there were bloody streaks across his face. Worse, there was blood on his hand where he held hers, and it made Mads' head spin. That's why it was sticky. Mads shuddered and could feel the itch of blood drying on her own face, on her hand from where she'd touched the amulet, around the slice on her palm. "Let me go," she managed, yanking him to a stop at the next turn.
Luc frowned at her, but he complied. "Don't slow me down." And he was off, rounding the corner, and it was all Mads could do to make her shaky legs move after him.
Mads tried to distance herself from the past hour, picturing Grandmere's lovely face, Krill's bright smile, and Alan, dear persistent Alan. Mads wanted nothing more than to see them again, and have a cup of coffee. If she told herself that it had just been a dream, would she be able to process it?
"What the hell was all that?" she asked, when she felt like she could speak again.
Luc stopped at a fork, pressing himself to the wall and peering carefully round the corner. "A sacrifice to Andhera, wasn't it obvious?" He waved at the left passage. "This way."
Mads scowled at his back, finding that being angry with him was the most effective method for clearing her head. It was something comfortable to focus on. "That isn't what I meant, and you know it. What was that thing? Where did it come from? And any sign of Jupiter Jive?" She trotted after him, wondering how he could tell all these little bolt holes apart. "Because I don't really think that thing was Jupiter Jive. Though it definitely wasn't a man or woman, either . . . so . . ."
"But how would it dance?" asked Luc. His expression was grim when he looked back at her. "I don't know the answers to any of those excellent questions. But I know it gave me time to get you out of there. But whatever that thing was, it was a good diversion, if a deadly one. I didn't see Jive in all the chaos, but I'm sure he's here. Maybe Jive even caused that thing."
Mads thought about the strange amulet that the creature had dropped, and how when she had thrown it over the statue's head like the priestess had said to, the creature seemed to die and tumble into the lava below. But that was impossible, wasn't it? Maybe it had been some bizarre robotic or something contrived by Jupiter Jive. But that didn't quite seem on brand.
Mads thought about telling Luc about what she had seen, but that suddenly felt stupid, so she refrained. Instead, she puzzled over what he'd just said, her mind finally registering what was strange about it. "Wait. You got me out of there instead of looking for Jive?" She stopped in the passage, and he turned to shoot her a quizzical frown.
"Don't get ideas, you're just my leverage. But, yeah, sort of. I did look for Jive, at first, I just found you instead. Graynard has a lot of explaining to do. I decided to get out of there with you at least. And then that thing disappeared anyhow." He gestured to the length of passage ahead. "But we can talk later. I promise."
"Graynard thought you were losing it," persisted Mads. "He said he was worried about you, and that you might need his help down here. He said posing as a worshiper and sacrifice was the only way for us to get in."
Luc snorted, and then grinned full blaze at Mads, causing her to lose her train of thought. "He said that? Bastard." His eyes glinted strangely in the torchlight, suddenly reminiscent of that thing and its glowing, equally green eyes.
Luc's smile faded and he shook his head, his shaggy hair swinging into his face and escaping from whatever he'd tied it with. "Gray can talk a blue streak, can't he? If he's so worried, why are you here instead of him? It's almost as if he doesn't want us catching Jive at all."
"I don't know," muttered Mads, still trying to recover her wits. Luc didn't have the monopoly on green eyes, of course. And that thing hadn't been real. Couldn't have been. She couldn't even recall what it had truly looked like.
Mads wrinkled her nose, distracted by a sudden dead animal reek that drifted down the tunnel. "Ugh, is that you that smells so bad?" The charnel smell seemed to have followed them from that closet.
Luc blinked twice, and then looked down at his ratty, stained clothes. "Yeah, probably. I pulled these out of the rubbish bin earlier."
Mads gaped at him. "And you're wearing them?" she recoiled and pinched her nose with her uninjured hand.
Luc rolled his eyes. "Some people don't have time to be spoiled. And speaking of time, we need to run." He pointed at the next fork in the passage and set off at a jog. Mads followed, but she had trouble keeping up with his long legs.
After two more turns, they finally saw someone – a bone-clad guard heading their direction. Before the man had even opened his mouth, Luc's fist hit him in the nose, dropping him like a stone and making a terrible crunching sound. Luc paused to drag him to the side of the path, which gave Mads time to catch up to him.
Mads leaned against the tunnel wall, gasping and rubbing at her side, where she was quickly developing a stitch. She was fit, sure, but she'd never been much for running. Especially so soon after surviving a cage fight and a sacrifice gone wrong.
Luc looked from her to the unconscious guard. "We can probably get out before they notice we're gone, honestly. In all that chaos . . ." he glanced back at Mads, his gaze lingering on her blood-spattered sacrificial robes. "But those are pretty noticeable. Any interest in putting on his clothes?" he pointed down at the unconscious guard.
Mads shuddered. "No! That's disgusting. And besides, it would take too much time. Let's just go? And where are we going, anyhow?" The tunnels seemed like a labyrinth of repeating loops.
Luc blinked at her, as if surprised. "Out, of course. Come on, the tunnel we're looking for isn't too much farther."
Mads trotted along at his heels. "I told Graynard that you had another way in. I knew it."
"Well, actually I have several, but I haven't tried them all," replied Luc, not missing a beat. "I didn't want Gray or you to follow me. I take it he figured that out?"
So he did do that on purpose? Mads was surprised to find herself amused. "That wasn't very nice of you. He's claustrophobic."
Luc snorted. "That was the point. You two should have stayed put."
Mads wasn't the one he had to convince; she was in complete agreement. "Graynard seemed to think you'd cut and run once you found Jive."
Luc paused at a narrow doorway. "That's what he told you? He talks too much. And I'm surprised you believed him."
Mads stopped beside him. "What, so it's not true?"
Luc frowned down at her and shook his head. "Shh." He pressed himself closer to the doorway.
To Mads' annoyance, he was barely winded at all. Mads inhaled slowly, trying to quiet the breathing that suddenly sounded loud in her ears. A moment later, she heard distant voices. Mads focused on the sound, trying to figure out where the people might be coming from.
Luc grabbed her arm and tugged her through the doorway and into complete darkness. "Quiet, we're almost out. Just a little—" he was cut off by a crash from just ahead.
Luc recoiled, smacking into Mads' shoulder and sending her into the wall.
Mads yelped, and then a door opened out of the darkness, blinding her with sudden light.
Luc lunged forward, grabbing a spear that would have skewered Mads and shoving the business end away from them
"Stay back," he growled, wrenching another spear from the man looming in the doorway. "I've got this."
Mads rubbed her bleary eyes and waited for them to adjust. Luc held his confiscated spear out, a challenge to anyone who would dare come near him. The first man hurtled through the door, but he never made it to Luc's spear; Mads' right cross smashed into his jaw, dropping him to the floor with a sickly thud.
Luc glanced at her, his eyes glowing in the semi dark. "Nice, but you don't want to be hit." He gestured with his spear, but another pair of men shoved through the door, and they had their weapons up and ready.
Mads jumped back as one swiped for her, taking refuge behind the door. Luc spun his spear, a slight smile on his lips as he smashed it into one of the men's sides and jabbed the other one with the spear's butt end.
He's enjoying this, Mads scowled at the thought.
Another man appeared behind the first two, and he was holding a nasty, crude sword that looked made for hacking.
Luc finished off his opponents with smooth, spinning blows to the head, and glanced up at the newcomer.
Mads slammed the door in the swordsman's face, flooding them in darkness. "Let's go!" she hissed.
Luc nodded, then jammed the spear under the door. "This way."
They fled into the darkness, and Mads was finally glad of Luc's hand. Despite the pitch black, he never tripped or faltered.
Maybe I should have my eyes altered too, thought Mads, wishing she too could see more than just her hand in front of her.
After two more turns, the darkness wasn't so deep. Instead, it was tinted red, and reeked of sulfur. Mads slowed her step a bit, gasping for breath. "Where are we going?"
"Out!" Luc sounded vaguely irritated, but he slowed a bit more.
Mads coughed and wrinkled her nose. "Yes, but where?"
He glanced back at her, and there was a dangerous gleam in his eyes. "Did I ever tell you about Hell's Pits?"
Mads frowned. "Doesn't sound like a good idea."
He shrugged, and with a cocky toss of his head, released her hand and continued the way they'd been going. "You don't have to come."
Mads wanted to hit him. It was becoming more of a need than a want. But he did seem to know his way around, and hitting him wasn't a great option if she wanted to get out. Not to mention that they were probably being followed, and he was very good at fighting.
She sighed and rubbed her arms, which were prickling from the growing heat. "Fine."
He didn't turn, but she could read his satisfaction in the set of his shoulders. Wait, she could see. Mads blinked and jogged to catch up with Luc. The walls around them almost seemed to glow red.
"I'd tell you to close your eyes, but no guy does that to a girl before he shows her a Hellscape," said Luc, softly, stopping at a small wooden door that ended the passage.
Mads rolled her eyes, but she didn't fight the smile because he had his back to her.
The door was locked, but Luc pulled a sliver of metal from somewhere in his robes, and had the door unlocked in seconds. He opened it a hair, and Mads choked on the gust of stinking heat that came rushing in.
"Cover your mouth." He opened the door another crack, letting in even more fetid air.
Mads yanked her robe up so she could cover her mouth, and saw Luc doing the same with a badly stained piece of fabric. Luc let the door swing inward, and then reached back for Mads' hand.
Mads stared at his blood-spattered palm for a moment, and then looked up ahead.
Hell . . . A ravaged nightmare vista met her gaze, a world of smoke, rock, and sand pocked with pits of black ooze and threaded through with raging fires. It smelled horrible, like rotten eggs and burning flesh. Even worse than Luc's clothes.
"Come on," persisted Luc, still holding out his hand.
Mads scowled, but grabbed his hand. "Let's get out of here."
Luc grinned, his eyes glittering, dimples on display, and then he dragged her out the door and onto scalding sand.
"Hot, hot!" Mads jumped as her sandal encountered a hillock of sandy earth. "Ouch!" She cursed herself for watching him smile instead of watching where they were going. She hadn't even remembered to look at his teeth. Idiot.
Luc swung the door shut behind them and slammed a kick into the locking mechanism, smashing it into the old wood. "That won't buy us much time." He tugged Mads toward the lava and pits. "Just follow, and trust me."
I can't. But she didn't let go of his hand.