All That Lives Must Die - Eric Nylund [237]
Amanda trembled. “I don’t know about this anymore,” she whispered.
Jeremy and Sarah shared a worried glance, and then Jeremy gave his cousin a slight shake of his head.
“Get to the Gate and you’re safe,” Mr. Welmann told them. “It’s Infernal property. Kino’s not allowed to cross or even touch it. Just step across, and you’ll have all the time you’ll need to figure this out.”
Amanda paled and looked sick—caught between the gates of Hell and the Lord of the Dead.
Eliot glowered at them, maybe understanding that everyone was coming to their senses and support for his crazy plan was faltering.
“Okay, listen up,” Fiona said. “We run for the gate. Eliot and Marcus—take point. Amanda you keep up with me. After us, Jeremy, Sarah, and Robert bring up the rear and yell if you see those headlights.”
This felt like a gym match: Fiona providing the strategy and Team Scarab pulling together to overcome a series of insane obstacles. It was as if they’d trained for this all year. Maybe there was something, after all, to Mr. Ma’s methods.
She glanced over her shoulder. If this didn’t work, if Kino got to them, it’d be best to scatter. She would make a stand and face him while the others got back to the forest.
“Go,” Fiona ordered.
They sprinted for the gate (probably the first people in all history to actually run toward the entrance to Hell!), and then skidded to a halt before its closed doors. Six dial combination locks (the largest the size of a hubcap, descending to one the size of a dime) were set into a precise dotted line next to the Gate’s massive bronze handle.
Far away headlights reappeared in the haze . . . turned to the right and then the left, and then crept forward.
“Hurry,” Fiona whispered.
Mr. Welmann spun the combination lock dials—one by one, using both hands, not even pausing—then he stopped them and spun them the other way. “My birthday,” he muttered. “Those lucky lotto numbers . . . license plate of my first car . . .”
He finished with the first, largest combination.
There was a click and a series of pings that resonated throughout the metal.
Fiona looked for the headlights. They were gone. A bit of luck, maybe.
Mr. Welmann stopped four more dials in quick succession and they clicked into place.
Fiona heard the ratcheting of large wheels, squealing and groaning as if they hadn’t been oiled for centuries.
An engine’s roar made the air tremble.
Fiona jumped as high beams flicked on and illuminated the Gate.
The Cadillac had crept up to them, lights off. It was a hundred yards away, now peeling out straight toward them.
Amanda clung to Eliot.
Eliot tried to shrug Lady Dawn off his shoulder and maneuver it around, but Amanda was in the way.
Jeremy and Sarah stepped forward, though, faces rigid with concentration. They held up their hands—waved them as if performing some sleight of hand stage magic.
Dust and ash filled the air, and the grit congealed into a pane of mirrored glass between them and Kino’s car.
The Cadillac fishtailed to a stop, momentarily confused by the appearance of another pair of headlights racing toward it on a headlong crash trajectory.
“Nice work,” Fiona said. For once, she was glad the two pain-in-the-rear conjurors were on her team.
But that trick wouldn’t fool Kino long.
Mr. Welmann clicked the last dial in place.
The Gate’s internal mechanisms hissed steam and sparked. A seam appeared and one side opened wide enough for a single person to squeeze through.
On the other side a rocky path zigged and zagged toward and over the cliff. Far below, lava geysered, rivers of molten rock snaked, and volcanoes belched smoke.
All they had to do was cross over—shut the door (but not completely)—and they’d be safe from Uncle Kino. But Fiona decided this was crazy dangerous . . . and they hadn’t even gotten to Hell yet! So, she’d wait until Kino left, and then she’d abort Eliot’s rescue mission, and get them out of here (dragging her brother out by his ears if necessary).
But Fiona couldn’t move.
Her feet rooted to the earth, and fear chilled her despite the furnace heat