The Hellhound

Ch. Forty-One

"When you enter the Lions' Den, it's best not to go empty-handed or you'll probably leave that way."

- Josh Stern

                                                                                          ***

"Are you okay to do this?" Logan's soft voice seemed to echo in the small alcove they were resting in. Sirius and Alex exchanged an uncomfortable sort of look and sidled a little closer to the main tunnel. There had been several renditions of this conversation since they got out of Purgatory.

The trip back to Hades' palace had gone by too quickly. It was an odd effect of staying in a place without time, a sort of trick. Once you stepped into its flow again, you felt it more keenly. Even now, Sirius imagined he could feel every second tick by, like a butterfly's wing beating against his skin.

A sigh gusted from Rhys, the sound somehow contained. The witch didn't want to snap at his brother. "Yes," he said, his answer trimmed with agitation. "Now stop asking me that before I get mad and don't want you to."

Sirius' eyes narrowed as he tried to work out that statement. Alex looked just as perplexed as he did. 

Logan just let out a strained chuckle. "I'm sorry. I know that you're..." The witch tried again. "You can obviously do the magic, it's just—"

"It's just that you're scared," Rhys cut him off. There was a long silence. Then: "Don't be."

"How?" Logan whispered, the sound strained. "You're my brother. My little brother. Explain to me how I'm not supposed to be out of my mind right now?"

"You're older by a month, Lo," Rhys said, but his voice had a rough edge to it that Sirius had never heard before. He couldn't even begin to describe how much he didn't want to be listening to this conversation right now.

After Galloway's death, he had learned the unique agony of such a lose. And she had made him wretchedly human enough that he didn't want anyone else to suffer in the way he had. He certainly didn't want these people—who had risked so much for her—to suffer like that. 

A dull roar came from somewhere to Sirius' left, the sound making him bristle out of instinct.

On second thought...he could think of at least a few beings he would like to inflict such misery upon.

"We can't wait any more," he said, still looking out into the dimness of the main tunnel. It would lead them down to the arena first—down to the cages.

From the silence that answered him, Sirius knew the others didn't feel quite ready. But they probably never would. Rhys had been right. If this didn't work, that was it. 

It would be the end of a story that had barely even begun.

He finally turned, only looking at Rhys. "How long will it take you to cast the spells you need?"

The witch's silver-green eyes flicked to Alex. "Not long," he rasped, his skin drained of all color. "But we should wait until the last moment. The magic will be fresher that way."

Sirius nodded and opened his mouth, but found he didn't have anything to say for once. So he pressed his lips into a thin line and beckoned for the others to follow him back into the fire-lined tunnels that would take them around and beneath the arena. Once there, it would be a straight shot up to Hades' palace.

The others followed silently, each lost in their own thoughts and fears.

He led them along the curving path, concentrating so hard on detecting any approaching monsters that he could hear a faint ringing in his ears and his nose burned from the myriad scents. Suddenly, the cheers from the arena grew so loud it was useless to rely on his hearing. He glanced back at Rhys, but the witch didn't give any indication of alarm. They did pick up the pace a little, though.