Jack Frost remembered that battle. They called it Hermes’s Skirmish, even though it had nothing to do with the Messenger. Jack had been slightly put out by the title, even though it was cheering to know that, even in Tartarus Prison, he was still master, and could get information from the outside world whenever he pleased.
In the smoldering darkness of his prison – located on the lowest deck of the Prison – Jack waited, his hands chained to the floor with ichor-infused links. The metal room was unlit except for a row of dull red heating lamps around the top of the wall. Warm moisture hung in the air, leeching Jack’s strength.
For the past... oh, close to a millennium he had been here. They sometimes knocked him out and put his body in an automatic exercising machine, so he stayed healthy in that respect. But it didn’t matter. He had been sick – physically and mentally – for a long time in this heat. Exercising didn’t help any.
But I’ll get out soon, he told himself, not even opening his eyes when he woke up. She’ll get here soon. Seven, fourteen, twenty-one, twenty-eight... they’ll unlock the gate, twelve degrees Fahrenheit...
He was used to the mental ranting. After five hundred years of the same room, the monotony can even get to an immortal Legendary.
Not long now. Not long.
How many days had he been promising that to himself? Since he had been locked in here? Or was it just yesterday? Or where they both the same dates... Jack frowned and wiped a flood of perspiration from his temple on his bare shoulder. He couldn’t quite recall all of a sudden.
Ah, well. It wasn’t important.
What is important is that she’ll come soon. She didn’t even go to Tartarus. She’s in... in... He frowned. Styx? Wasn’t that the Mirror rock band? No, it was the other prison. Rumor had it people actually got out of Styx alive. Maybe even sane.
Come on, girl. You have to get out. Six, twelve, alpha, Bermuda... for me. I’m going crazy in here.
A faint rectangle of white-yellow light appeared directly opposite him. Jack glanced up without much interest. Food always came right about now, in the form of delightful cocktail of peppers and hot tea they siphoned into him through a tube. All so they wouldn’t have to unchain his hands for him to eat.
It was a demeaning process. Probably the thing Jack hated the most about Tartarus. When I get out, by twelve-thirty-fan, I’ll have someone make me a feast. Might have to make one myself. Even my cooking has to be better than Earl Grey and habaneras.
But the figure, outlined in yellow light, wasn’t the right shape as the feeder, and it didn’t cart along the pumps and tubes and foot canisters and whatnot. It was smaller, slimmer, delicate, familiar...
Jack smiled faintly up at the silhouette as it came closer. “Hello, Holly.”
Holly finally got close enough for the red heat lights to reveal her features. She looked as she always had – heart-shaped face, full lips, huge green eyes, flaming red hair. It had grown in a long, shiny sheet down her back. She still wore the long-sleeved black jumpsuit that the worst residents of Styx had to wear.
“Jacky!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around his neck. “I’ve missed you so bad it ain’t even funny.” She pulled back. “How long’s it been?”
“Centuries.” For a moment he was just glad to look at her, feel her, even if he couldn’t hug her. A truly friendly face, after all this time. “But it might help if you get rid of the chains first.”
“Right, right.” Holly dug in the jumpsuit pocket, withdrew a stick of honey-colored substance, and stuck it in the chain’s lock.
Jack watched with some interest. “Is this a legal release or an illegal one?”
“Wish I could say illegal,” Holly said, finishing up one manacle. The chains dropped, and Jack’s skin consciously tasted fresh air for the first time in decades. Holly started on the other lock. “But I got out of Styx yesterday. It’s the millennium deadline. Optimum holding time, or something. I came straight here. They weren’t gonna let you go, but I persuaded them. They don’t think you’ll be anymore trouble, anyway.”
“Hmm.” Because of the nightmares, probably... Jack chased the thoughts away by focusing on the other manacle falling from his wrist. He massaged his pulsing skin. Both hands, free at last. For the first time
in a thousand years, it seemed. He took a deep breath. “You’re a savior, Hol.”
“I know.” Holly grinned down at him and pulled a large square of cloth from her jumpsuit. With a flick of her wrist, it expanded into a white cooling blanket. It created steam in the boiling room. She wrapped it around Jack’s shoulders, then offered a hand. “And, just so you know, I could stand hearing that a lot more often to make up for the past centuries.”
Jack took her hand and pulled himself to his feet. “Sure thing.” He swayed, his body not used to having control over itself, and Holly slid an arm around his waist.
“You’ll get used to it,” she said, leading him to the cell door. “It just takes a while.”
They stepped out into the all-metal walkway of Deck 13. The elevator to the upper stories – and, most importantly, to ground level – was all the way at the opposite end. Guards posted in nooks above the floor watched every mood the two Legends made, making sure their guns were aimed in the right direction.
“Where to now, compadré?” Jack asked, ignoring the guards. His footsteps and Holly’s clacked on the iron floor.
“Now, we’re headed back to the Ice Country.” Holly grinned. “Finally back home.”
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