“It’s…” he said, “it’s just…I’ll just take a quick look inside. See what I can see.” He sounded dazed, drugged.
Bathin nodded. “That’s a great idea, buddy. Go tourist around in Hell. Pick up some tchotchkes, try the torture.”
“Yeah,” Ryder said. “I’ll do that.”
“No.” Delaney tugged his wrist a little more firmly, and he stopped mid-step. “You are not going to vacation in Hell, Ryder. What’s wrong with you?”
“It’s a vortex,” Bathin said.
“Which means?” Delaney looked at me first.
I had no idea. I shook my head. I hated that I didn’t have the information because I knew who was going to open his big, fat mouth any minute to show me up.
“Well, since you asked,” Bathin said grandly. “It means that it is more than just a portal or a doorway into Hell. It sucks. Both ways.”
“You suck both ways,” I muttered.
He heard me and wagged his eyebrows to let me know it.
“What kind of suck?” Delaney asked.
“Oh, let me count the ways,” I said.
“Now, now, let’s not bite the hand that leads, kitten.”
“Kitten me one more time, and I’ll shove you in a jar with a dead drunk poet until the end of time.”
“But your sister’s soul.”
“In a jar, out of a jar, you’d still be in Ordinary, so I wouldn’t be breaking any contracts. Right, Ryder?”
Ryder inhaled, exhaled. Asking him that question seemed to break the thrall of the vortex again. “Technically, true. She could shove you into a jar, Bathin.”
“So the vortex pulls people in and pulls…whatever is on the other side out,” I said.
“Yes,” Bathin agreed.
“How do we close it?” I asked.
“Owned!” Xtelle yelled. And wow, that horse had a set of lungs on her. “No one owns a magical creature such as I! No one dare lay claim to a unicorn, pure and true! No one can put their…theirhandson me and…and…”
“Feed you carrots?” Bathin suggested.
“Feed mecarrots!” she repeated. “I will not stand for this. Xtelle will be no mortal’s beast of burden!”
“How about a god’s?” Bathin asked. “Because that’s a possibility here too.”
“I’d rather die.”
“Also a possibility,” he said with a huge grin.
“You wouldn’t actually be owned,” Delaney said. “But if you’re going to be a part of Ordinary, you will need someone to host you. Someone who can explain the rules and act as a go-between with the humans of the town if you do something wrong.”
“How would I do something wrong? I’m a unicorn, the very epitome of purity and temperance and perfection.”
“You still need a host,” Delaney said. “If you don’t have one, we’ll be happy to appoint one for you.”
“Do all the creatures have to endure this degrading treatment?” she demanded, eyes narrow. “Didhe?”
