The joy of that realization almost allowed me to ignore my wounded leg. I'd freed myself! Vilnius had revealed my plan to assassinate Halkkor, and I'd managed to escape before Halkkor could wreak his vengeance upon me.
I wondered if Halkkor could survive the lava. I wondered if there was even a way to get out of the lake. Judging by the pain I'd just experienced from dipping my foot in the lava, the anguish Halkkor must be in was incalculable. Unfathomable. The kind of thing that you don't even wish on the King of Lucifer's Firstborn, let alone your worst enemy. Halkkor was kind of a baddass, though, so his threshold for pain was certainly much higher than mine.
I needed to focus. I needed to figure out what to do in case he survived. Actually, I needed to figure out a way to determine whether he was still alive or not.
I teleported to Jorge's office in the Department of Transportation, facing his desk. "Jorge," I blurted, "I need you to do something!"
Jorge sat forward abruptly. Apparently my developing habit of making urgent and unexpected entrances had a way of getting his attention. Wyver, who was standing next to me, looked me up and down in horror. "Shit, what happened to you?"
Right. My legs were ripped to bloody shreds and one of them was burnt to a crisp. The rest of me probably didn't look too hot either. "Long story," I said dismissively. "Jorge, do we have a way of, um, surveying that lake of fire in the Department of Torture?"