The Hellhound

Ch. Twenty-Five

"Evil is always possible. And goodness is eternally difficult."

-Anne Rice

                                                                           ***

Sirius healed so quickly in Hell. Within two hours, the wound in his throat and the cuts across his back were gone, like they had never even existed. The only ache present in his body was the one that always sat heavy in his chest. 

He felt good. He belonged in Hell, and that was not a comforting thought considering that after he finished his work here, he would never come back. Not if he could help it anyway.

The floors of the tunnels were treacherous, and the others all had cuts and scrapes from catching themselves constantly on the sharp walls. Even Sirius had to level an irritating amount of concentration purely on keeping his footing as they continued toward the center of Hell. 

None of them spoke. There was no room for words here, nothing to be said after those revelations at the portal. Not to mention the fact that sound carried through these halls with absurd ease. 

But beyond that, the going had been nerve-wrackingly easy. No booby traps, no prowling Hell-beasties, no nasty, heartrending magics. Even Rhys hadn't sensed anything more sinister than a vague feeling of being watched.

And it was driving Sirius insane. Theron knew they were coming. He'd said the damn words himself, right to the demon's despicable face. So what was wrong here?

What had he missed? What was about to go wrong?

Caleb muttered, "Why does this feel so easy?"

"Sh," Rhys breathed. "You say something like that and it's bound to go to shit."

Their voices were caught by the walls and vaulted down the passageway and Sirius looked over his shoulder meaning to shush them, just to find all of them looking pale and haggard. He slowed to a stop, turning all the way around. They all looked exhausted nearly to the point of sickness.

Rick answered his unspoken question. "Yes. We all feel like shit. It's Hell. What did you expect?"

Stupid. He should have realized that while Hell might revitalize him, it wouldn't jive so well with the humans' systems. After a moment's hesitation, he sighed and whispered, "Rest for a moment."

Caleb and Rhys exchanged glances, but Sirius cut them off before they could argue. "We're getting close. We're going to have to split at the next turn-off, so rest now, while you have an opportunity to really do it."

Finally, Rick sat and leaned gingerly against the wall, pulling a flask out of the inner pocket of his jacket. Voice still hoarse, he asked, "How long have we been walking?"

They all exchanged blank looks for a moment, until Rhys frowned and glanced at Sirius. "How long has it felt to you?"

Sirius shrugged. "A little more than three hours?"

"Fuck," the other three said in perfect synchronization. A shiver skittered down his spine, and he waited with trepidation to hear how long they had been walking for.

Caleb scrubbed a hand through his dark hair, sitting down next to Rick and taking the flask when the other Hunter offered it. After a healthy sip, he handed the flask to Rhys and scrubbed a hand down his face. "Maybe ten hours for me."

Both Rick and the witch nodded in agreement and Sirius scowled. He hadn't counted on such a severe distortion of their individual perceptions of time. Not when they were still together at least. If he'd known they'd been walking for that long, he would have stopped. He knew they'd need more rest than he did.