“What if you take off everything under it instead?” He lifted an eyebrow as if that were the best compromise he’d ever heard.
“Well, my normal clothing doesn’t smell like rotten sludge, so I’m pretty sure I know which I’d prefer.”
Hunter huffed a soft laugh. “You can take the hood down but keep the rest on. It’ll help hide your scent.”
“No one in the bar even looked twice at me. I think you’re being overly dramatic about this.”
“Yeah, you say that now because you haven’t faced anything around here that wants to devour all that delicious mortality you have. Trust me, you’d be less confident if you had.”
I wanted to tell him that wasn’t true, but then I recalled how Kase had thrown me around, how Jerrod had charged, how the dancers in the bar had moved.
So, okay, maybe I was out of my league.
I took down the hood as he’d said but didn’t complain about leaving the cloak fastened at my throat.
Hell seemed stranger the more time I spent there, and just as soon as I thought I had a feel for it, it changed.
I’d gotten used to the wilderness, to the dim sky and the freaky, spiky trees. Climbing over the sharp rocks hadn’t been fun, but I’d accepted it.
Then we’d ended up in an honest-to-God town, complete with strippers and a no-tell-motel. That had been weird, but again, I’d adjusted.
My night with Kase helped that…
And now? Now we walked down a road, a red mist hanging on the ground like fog, with fields that stretched out growing something I couldn’t identify. Houses were set in each huge space, but they didn’t look like the cute, southern-type houses. These held a sinister edge, which I could understand because I doubted good-ole-boy farmers ended up in hell. Well, maybe the racists ones.
“What are these farms?” I asked.
Hunter nodded at one of the houses that sat in the middle of a large field of spindly plants, ones that looked dead despite growing in perfect rows. The mist was so thick, I couldn’t see the ground. “Nothing much grows here, at least nothing usable. I’m sure you’ve noticed all the trees are bare.”
“Yeah, it occurred to me when I had to pee behind a shrub and there wasn’t much cover.”
He snorted softly. “These farms grow ambrosia, which is what is ground up to make alcohol, along with other mind-altering substances that work on demons, spirits and immortals.”
I frowned before going over to where the fencing separated the plants from the road. When I peered closer, the mist shifted without breaking apart. “Why does it grow?”
“There are some things you don’t want to know,” Hunter said.
“I find people tell me that when they don’t want to tell me something. It doesn’t seem to have much to do with what’s best for me.”
The mist swirled, moving from the way I approached. It parted, but Hunter caught my chin and brought my gaze to his.
“Trust me, shadow-girl, there are things in hell you don’t want to see. You’ll leave here, go back to your regular life and you don’t want those images in your head. Some things, once they get in there, you can’t get them out.” His gaze was so serious, it made me pause. Though, beneath that there was something more.
Instead of pressing, I pulled away. I’d had enough of men with hang-ups. I didn’t need to unravel anything else.
“So this is where that alcohol came from?”
Hunter nodded, keeping up with me as I started back down the path. “Yep. The ambrosia plants are harvested and ground up. They’re about the most valuable thing in hell, at least outside of mortals.”
“And they use a flimsy wooden fence to keep it safe?”
Hunter bent down and picked up a rock from the edge of the road, rolling in his palm for a moment before tossing it over the fence into one of the fields.
Plants near the house moved, from at least three separate spots. The tall branches shifted as whatever it was barreled through us, and those small moments of bravery fled entirely. Something dark, angry, and with flames struck the fence, bouncing off it.
Not a fence, but a ward of some sort.
My ass hit the ground after I stumbled backward. Even though I didn’t see any real details, I’d spotted more than enough to make it clear I should avoid the fields.
Hunter reached out for my hands, then tugged me to my feet. “They keep those things in the fields to discourage anyone who thinks about stealing. Not that it stops them. I’d say a few a day still try it.”
The idea of that made my stomach uneasy. “What happens to them?”
Hunter glanced to his side, his gaze hitting the mist that swirled over the field and near the ground.
He didn’t need to say it. It seemed I’d gotten good enough at understanding hell to hear it loud and clear.
The thin mist, the red that coated the dirt…
Blood, the particles thin enough to float like fog.
I tried not to think about the dampness of my ankles.
In fact, I didn’t say another word to Hunter. He was right—there were things I didn’t want to know, facts I just didn’t want to have. I would have happily gone to sleep every night for the rest of my life without knowing that fields of blood fog existed, that they were watered by the death of things that ventured into the yards patrolled by monsters.
Hunter didn’t try to coax me into conversation after that. We traveled the path, and he said we only had a day’s walk before we reached Styx.
The odd thing was that despite how much we’d traveled, I wasn’t as sore as I’d have figured. It wasn’t like I was overly athletic before, since my exercise usually went as far as paying for a monthly gym membership and
