All That Lives Must Die - Eric Nylund [40]
Kino opened it with a touch and pushed the gate aside.
He climbed back into the Cadillac, and they rolled past the barrier.
“That was the last time we settled any matter with dice.” Kino lifted a hand off the wheel and made a sideways cutting motion Eliot knew all too well. Audrey had made that gesture countless times—indicating this conversation was over.
Eliot made a note that Kino was Hades. He’d also remember the names Poseidon and Zeus, two more important-sounding relatives he should keep track of.
He had a feeling there was more to Kino’s dislike of dice, and much more to the story of how they related to the Infernals, than he was telling. Eliot felt, however, he’d pressed his luck far enough.
Outside, cemetery headstones packed together so tightly in places, they look like crooked teeth erupting from the ground; there were statues and monuments side by side so close that no one could walk through.
They rounded another curve, and the headstones thinned and became orderly again and all had military insignia upon them . . . royal crests and crossed swords and eagles in relief.
Eliot looked back. The gate was far behind them, and it had swung shut.
Kino drove up and over a low hill. There were larger structures: mausoleums, obelisks, crude cairns, and something that looked like Stonehenge. There were rolling fields and poplar trees. Sunlight broke through the fog, illuminating wildflowers and making a distant river glisten.
Eliot was positive there was no such river in San Francisco. This reminded him of one of Uncle Henry’s lightning-fast journeys across the world. It had that weird dreamy feel to it.
“This is Elysium,” Kino said. “Where the noble dead come to dwell for a time.”
“So it’s another place?” Fiona asked. “Like Purgatory?”
Kino grunted his assent and continued to drive.
So maybe this wasn’t like one of Uncle Henry’s rides. Kino was taking them to no place in this world. Did that mean they were dead now, too? No . . . Fiona had gone to the Valley of the New Year, which she said was part of Purgatory—and she had managed to get back.
He rolled down his window, scared, but wanting a better look nonetheless. Outside, it smelled of fresh earth and rain. Clean.
Eliot set his backpack on his lap. He wanted Lady Dawn close, just in case.
There were people outside. Some sat in marble pavilions talking, painting, or lounging in hammocks. Others gathered about great barbecues, or tossed Frisbees or collected flowers. Couples walked hand in hand.
“All these people . . . ,” Eliot said.
“Dead,” Kino told him.
They rode past orchards of cherry trees in full bloom that filled the air with feather white blooms, and over terraced hills with row after row of trellises heavy with bloodred and amber grapes.
How could this be? If this was where the dead really came, shouldn’t there be billions of them here?
Eliot wanted to ask. But he didn’t, not wanting to appear stupid.
The Cadillac picked up speed.
Kino touched a button on his door, and Eliot’s window slid up.
He turned onto an unpaved branch off the road. The sky was iron gray.
The car accelerated around curves until this road became a single dirt track. The trees became stunted and small, then there were just grass and tumbleweeds, and then just bare rocky dirt. There were no more people here—and definitely no one tossing Frisbees.
Eliot spied a drop-off in the distance.
Kino pressed his foot all the way to the floor, and the Cadillac leaped ahead, leaving plumes of dust behind.
“What’s going on?” Eliot asked.
“Now I will show you the part of the Underworld that belongs to the Infernals,” Kino replied, the bitterness thick in his voice, and his eyes glued straight ahead.
Eliot swallowed. That didn’t sound good.
The door locks thumped down.
Kino drove and said nothing.
Eliot looked to Fiona, and she gave a slight shake of her head. He wanted to get out, but how? They must be going over a hundred