“He hasn’t had time.” Amelie glares at him and loosens her grip on Issie a bit. Just as she does the world starts to rumble like an earthquake, but not quite, because there’s no accompanying noise like there is when you’re in a house. There are no dishes to shake, no foundations that quiver, no wood straining to maintain its integrity.
And then—poof—the world is gone and we are dropping into some sort of darkness.
“Zara!” Issie’s voice shrieks through the darkness, but I can’t see her. I can’t see anyone, feel anything. It is a void except for Issie’s voice.
Just a second later, I land with a thud, back on the snow. Only it’s not the same snow we were just on. There’s no volcano looming. Instead there are frost-heavy trees everywhere. One tree that is larger than a skyscraper seems to hold up the dark purple sky with its frost-dripping limbs. This has to be Hel. I have only a second to think it before my attention flies to Nick, who has changed, snarling, into a wolf. He leaps in front of me. Issie and Amelie are trying to untangle themselves from each other. And Astley? Astley is behind me, looking the same direction that Nick is looking. Both of them are focused on some huge shapes that are rushing through the fast-falling snow.
“Heading toward us,” Astley says.
Nick moves to stand next to him. Amelie moves up with them too and they look united, like they have a common purpose, and it would be nice if it weren’t so dangerous. I squint, trying to see what’s coming. Is grabs my hand just as I start to see forms to the shadow.
“Three wolves. Giants,” Astley barks out. His posture straightens up even more. “And her—that must be her.”
Issie actually mumbles a curse next to me and half faints as Hel comes into the view of our lesser human eyes. I let go of Issie’s hand and grab her around the waist instead, trying to hold her up.
“She’s half—” Issie mumbles. “She’s rotten. She’s half rotting.”
I told them that.
Nick growls as the wolves pound closer to us. Their massive footfalls make the earth shake. Nick’s ears flatten to his head and he bares his teeth, growling. The muscles in his flanks get ready to pounce.
“Wolf! No!” Astley commands, but Nick isn’t his to command and he leaps away, pounding toward the wolves and Hel.
Amelie raises a bow.
“No!” Astley yells. “We come in peace. We come—”
As he’s yelling, Hel raises her hand and his words break off midsentence. He doesn’t move. His hand was reaching for something in his belt, but it’s stopped. Nick, too, is frozen in mid run, his body stretched out like a photo image of a running wolf. And next to me, Issie doesn’t do anything. Her eyes are wide open with fear, but they don’t blink.
“Issie?” I shake her. “Issie?”
She topples over and doesn’t make a noise. Whirling around, I realize the wolves, the wind, and Hel herself are all still moving. It’s just us. We’re the only ones frozen.
But I’m not. I can still move. The realization pushes me into action and I lunge forward, wrenching Amelie’s bow from her hands. The wolves and Hel bound closer, closer … And I am shivering so much, but I manage to notch an arrow, sight the closest wolf right in the center of his auburn eyes, aim and….
“Do not shoot my wolf!” Hel yells.
I don’t move the arrow. “Unfreeze my friends.”
She whistles and the wolf stops on cue. I keep the arrow trained on its head, but say it again. “Unfreeze my friends.”
Somehow she is standing right next to me. The vanilla and rotting smell of her finally hits my human nose. She leans down and whispers in my ear. “We will not hurt them.”
Her hand reaches out and grabs the crossbow. I let her take it. I don’t know what else to do.
She tosses the bow out of reach and studies my face. “So, little human,” she says. “I hear you were looking for me.”
OFFICER SAFETY BOLO (BE ON THE LOOKOUT)
The attached bulletin from the RCMP-GRC contains information regarding Frank Belial, aka Bicknell, DOB: 10/12/1968, who is an escapee from federal custody.
On 12/1 at 1956 hours BICKNELL escaped from an escorted temporary absence while returning from Edmonton, AB, to Drumheller Institution. BICKNELL overpowered guards after he faked an illness. He is believed to have ties in New York and Maine. He is considered armed and dangerous and has made statements such as, “No cop will stop me,” and “The apocalypse is imminent and I’m bringing it, baby.”
The giant wolves romp in the snow, burying their great noses in it. They flip upside down and roll around, lupine legs flailing in the air. Then they start chasing each other with huge leaps, gallivanting around as if they are the happiest Hel hounds ever. Three small women, I think they are dwarves like in The Hobbit but I’m not sure, emerge from the woods, carrying swords. They are covered in green furs. They look happy too. Why are they happy in Hel? It doesn’t seem like the right attitude.
Questions zing around in my head. I try to organize them into something practical, something that makes sense.
1. We are in Hel.
2. Some people/animals/dwarves are happy here.
3. However, my friends are frozen here. Frozen does not equal happy.
4. I am not frozen. Why didn’t she freeze me? Or freeze me when I first saw her in Bedford? Instead she pummeled me.
5. It makes no sense.
I must look confused, because Hel explains, “I have more power in my own realm. Here I can freeze others into submission. They are not injured, just frozen. I can unfreeze them, and I shall, after we talk.”
“They aren’t hurt?” Staring at Amelie’s strained face and Astley’s awkward pose, it’s hard to believe they aren’t in pain somehow.
“No. And they are invulnerable to attack.”
It is better than death, I guess, but it’s not that encouraging having them frozen like this. I look around and try to take in where we are. We are in the woods, a forest really, and the trees are tall and covered with ice. It even encases their trunks with a shiny, see-through barrier and drips from the limbs in long, jagged points. There are no animal sounds, no wind. It’s as if the world is waiting to see if it’s worth it to move.
The land rolls gently here. There are no steep mountains, no obvious crevices to plunge into. The sky is a dark gray, as if there is a constant storm, and I wonder, logically, if there is a sun. The Norse said Hel was beneath the earth, so no sun should be able to come in, yet … how can trees grow then? How could there be any light at all?