27
When I returned to the edge of the underworld, the street cars from my uncle’s cavalry were parked haphazardly at the edge of the flames.
I could imagine my uncle and his street thugs charging out of the cars to go to war.
I held the gun in my hand. I had forgotten how many shots Falconer took. But I had rounds left, and that was all that mattered.
The stone path leading down into the fire was quiet.
I aimed the gun ahead, feeling powerful for a change. The only thing missing from my hands was dream ether.
I walked down the path, ready for anything, my finger ready to pull the trigger.
The lava burped and popped. The dogged heat wore on me, and soon my hands were sweating so bad I could barely grip the gun.
I ventured into a cloud of smoke and ash, toward the demon nest.
And th
