The Undead Pool (The Hollows #12)(65)
Author: Kim Harrison

“Ow,” Trent said softly, his alarm hesitating as he got up and felt his backside. “She bucked me off,” he said as if in awe. “That flaky horse dropped me!”

“It happens to me all the time,” I said, fear tightening my shoulders at Red’s distant whinny. “Come on. Get up!” I extended my arm down to him as if I actually knew how to lift a person onto a horse like that, and Trent took it, somehow managing the leap as if we’d done it all the time. Thank God I’d learned how to ride English. It made stuff like this easier.

He settled in behind me, Tulpa spinning as Trent gripped me around the waist. Without warning, he shouted, “Hiiiee!,” and Tulpa bolted, Trent’s heels and seat pushing him forward.

I might be holding the reins, but I wasn’t in control, and a shiver went through me as Trent screamed the word, his anger, desperation, and fear all rolled into one decisive action. The wind whipped my hair, and breathless, I held on as Tulpa shifted direction, cued by Trent’s legs more than my reins. Behind us was a wild howl of frustration. “I thought you said Red was desensitized to magic,” I said, shouting so he could hear me.

“Magic, yes. Explosions, no!” he shouted back, his lips inches from my ear to make me shiver again. “Where did you learn how to pull a rider up like that?”

“The movies?” I said, and he made a sound of disbelief.

We rose up a small hill, easily seeing over the damaged buildings. The wind lessened as Tulpa’s paced eased, and Trent brought him up short as we came to a drop-off. It was the dry bed of the Ohio River, and I stared as Tulpa stood and breathed hard. Down below and about half a mile ahead, a horse raced down the smooth expanse, a dozen surface demons chasing her.

“My magic won’t work that far,” I said, guilt and fear making my stomach churn.

Trent’s weight shifted, and Tulpa took the slope. Trent slid into me, the jostling motion jarring until we found the bottom and he settled back. Again Trent shouted, and Tulpa stretched into a gallop. I hunched low, Trent pressed close. The scent of wine and cinnamon poured over me, and the wind was a wall. I could feel Trent’s tension, and the horse under us beginning to tire. Tulpa was not young—but he had heart.

Heart, though, would not catch Trent’s best mare, not when she ran unfettered with the hounds of hell chasing her.

We weren’t going to catch her, and I could have cried when Trent sat up, murmuring softly to Tulpa to bring the horse down into a slower pace until we stopped, watching Red again become faint with the dusky red and distance.

“Trent, I’m sorry,” I said as Tulpa hung his head and heaved for air under us.

“I’m less than useless,” he said bitterly, turning to see me. “I’ll get off. You can probably catch her if I’m not dragging you down.”

“You!” I exclaimed, then gasped at the sudden and sure tug on the line. Both our eyes shot to where we’d last seen Red. A huge dome of energy had risen, tainted with red and the black of smut. The flailing outlines of surface demons flew through the air. “Newt!” I shouted as I saw her silhouette, arms raised as she screamed defiantly at the surface demons, and then the bubble of energy was gone, the shadow of Red rearing up before she found her feet and ran.

“Newt . . .” I mused, feeling as if Red was going to be okay as I saw Newt run after her. Newt wouldn’t let surface demons touch her. Not if that had been any indication.

“My God, that horse can run,” Trent said, his bitterness tempered with pride. But silver eyes had turned to us, and I stiffened when I realized they were the very demons that Newt had tossed aside. Behind us were even more, and Tulpa was tired, burdened by us.

“Ah, Trent?” I said, pointing, and his expression grew resolute.

“Not quite done, Tulpa,” he said, leaning around me to pat his horse’s neck, and the old stallion made a soft sound as if to say he was up to it. “Nearest line?” he asked me, and I sent out a quick thought, relieved when I found it.

“Up there,” I said, bringing Tulpa around and nudging him into a fast walk. The approaching demons tightened their formation. Tulpa noticed it, too, voluntarily picking up the pace. “I think that’s a path,” I said, and the massive animal lunged forward into the climb. Trent’s arm had gone around me again, and I was increasingly aware that he smelled really, really good despite the burnt-amber stench that permeated everything.

“It’s going to be close,” he said, words a warm breath on my neck.

I snuck a look behind us as Tulpa scrambled up the last of the hill. The surface demons had packed up, but as I watched, they split again, half deciding to run after Newt and Red, the other coming after us, taking the slope as if it was nothing. “You aren’t kidding.”

If I died here, Jenks was going to be pissed. Awareness searching, I found the line again and nudged Tulpa in the right direction. The slumps of rocks were fewer, and the grass more prevalent on this side of the dry river, tall enough to hide a surface demon in the moonlight. Trent’s arm around me tightened. I wanted to kick Tulpa into a run, but the horse was exhausted, head bobbing as he walked fast. His ears kept flicking behind us, listening for pursuit.

“It’s a pretty big line,” I said, trying to ignore the sensations that were plinking through me as I sat before Trent. “I’m going to walk the length with Tulpa. I’ve never shifted three auras before. This is going to be tricky without Bis.”

Tricky, but not impossible, I thought as I closed my eyes and brought my second sight up. A sigh of relief went through me as I saw the line. But the grass was moving contrary to the wind. Tulpa noticed too, and the horse snorted, his feet lifting a little higher. If we could just get across, the church was only a few blocks away.

“Ah, Trent?” I said.

“I see it . . .” he said tersely. “You sure you can’t do this at a run?”

“No?” I squeaked out, heart pounding as the line took us. The surface demons hooted, and I closed my eyes, desperately shifting all three of our auras to the resonance of the line. Tulpa nickered, and a shudder passed through me. The awful wind died, and I took a breath, my eyelids cracking open when Tulpa stopped. The howling of the surface demons muted, dulled, and then renewed into the more mundane alarm of a cop car. We were home.

“Thank you,” Trent breathed, and the tack jingled as the horse dropped his head, nosing the mown grass as if wanting to roll in it. We’d made it back, but we’d lost Red.