I wonder if it hurts to come back. I would imagine so. Forcing an entire being together like that has to be torture.
Like he read my mind, he states, “I’ve heard coming back is worse than going down,” with a shudder.
“It is,” Caspian’s voice utters from behind us, “It is the absolute worst agony you can imagine.”
I spin around to face him, his gaunt face proving the truth of his words. Before I can stop myself, I wrap my arms around him.
He laughs without any real humor, “It is alright, Little Dove. I am here now, with you. And those who sent me there are long since dead, nothing but rotten earth.” I look up at him, “So whoreallywon in the long run?”
His words are so at odds with his expression, but I won’t press him. Instead, I just hug him closer before he tells me, “I’m sorry to rush you again, my warrior, but we have to begin our journey home.”
After a few hugs and kisses goodbye, along with about a thousand fucking promises to call and FaceTime, we leave Fritz and the glittering city of Vegas behind us. As I begin driving, Caspian doesn’t speak much, and I worry he’s thinking about the same thing I am.
How could someone betray him like that? I mean, yes, he’s a flesh-eating demon. But he’s also kind and funny and obviously cares so much for the people lucky enough to know him. If this bitch wasn’t already buried, I’d make it my life mission to put her six feet under.
As it is, I have half a mind to find her grave and cuss her the fuck out. I’m too superstitious to really fuck with someone’s grave, but I think spitting on hers would make me feel better.
It must be horrible to have those memories brought up. I shouldn’t have asked about it. It’s really none of my business, and now Caspian is probably reliving the worst day of his life because of me. This is going to be the longest drive ever.
Blast From the Past
Caspian
Our drive home has been nothing short of hilarious.
Bel has hardly spoken, but she’s fuming so hard she nearly has steam emerging from her ears. Her face has been beet red, and it’s as though she’s been having a silent argument with someone for nearly an hour and a half.
I would not like to be the one on the other end of her imaginary fight, but watching her have it might be the most entertaining thing I’ve ever witnessed. Her ire, presumably on my behalf, brings so much warmth to my chest. If Fritz was telling her what it seemed like he was, she’s probably cursing Tasha as much as I did when I first learned of her betrayal.
After so long, I cannot help my curiosity, “Darling warrior, won’t you tell me what has you so ready to take up arms?”
She snaps her head at me as if she’d forgotten my presence altogether, “What?”
I chuckle and ask again, “Why do you look as if you want to commit murder?”
“Oh. I thought I was being subtle.”She was not.At my raised brow she gives me an exasperated sigh, “Okay. I was just, like, thinking about this mystery girl who set you up with the hunters. That’s fucked up, dude.”
Sheisangry for me. For an act hundreds of years ago, this wonderful, brave woman wants to go to war for me. I do not deserve such devotion, but I’m a selfish fuck, so I’m going to soak up every ounce of it.
“As I said, my would-be killers are long dead, Bel. There is no need to curse them,” I twirl a finger through her hair and tug, “They are nothing now. Probably being tortured in the mortal version of Hell, possibly even in Vankhala itself.”
“Mortals can go there?” she asks, always so curious.
“Only the worst of the worst.” I explain, “A soul sent to Heaven or Hell can be… retrieved, in a sense. Not often but it happens. So the worst souls, those who cannot under any circumstance be allowed rebirth, belong to Vankhala. Trapped. Always on the cusp of consciousness, but never able to reach it.
“It’s a constant ache of something almost like thought, without the clarity of it.” There truly is no worse torture in all existence. “Some of us believe that they fuel the creation of my kind. That their souls are split into three pieces, creating one of each kind of demon. The theory is supported by our growing presence over the millennia, but obviously there is no way to prove it.”
She’s nodding, soaking in the overwhelming amount of information, without taking her eyes off the road, “And the woman?” she asks, voice full of malice.
“Are you jealous, Belissenda? You did not mind the idea of sharing my affections last night,” I joke with her, reminding her of the debauchery she loved so much.
She ignores it, answering, “I- I’m notjealous.”A lie.“I’m just fucking mad. Why would someone do that to you? What a bitch.”
I run a hand through my hair, considering how to explain this to her. I understand her fury, as I felt it too. But she doesn’t know any world besides this one, doesn’t understand that for Tasha, it was a matter of life and death.
“She had no choice, Bel.” I shrug.
“Nochoice?” she repeats, incredulous.
