by Kate Martin
With a squeeze of a hand so much like his own, yet also so much stronger, and so much more deeply scarred, Bri took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and began the descent back to the Mortal Realm and his body.
Alec’s face was the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes. His mouth was a straight line of frustration, and his coloring was trying to be both pale and red at the same time, a sign of his worry turning towards frustration.
Bri did his best to look repentant, but it was harder than usual. He missed Kai already. “Sorry. Were you calling me long?”
“Nearly a quarter turn.”
“At least I came out on my own.” He smiled, hoping it would inspire Alec to do the same.
It worked, at least partially. Alec sighed, and all the tension melted away. “There is that.”
Bri sat up, surprised by how many joints cracked after lying still for so long. “Did it not go well?”
“You tell me. How much did you see?”
How Alec always knew exactly what he was up to, Bri had never been able to learn. The weight of his secret increased. “Enough.”
Neither of them said anything for a while after that. Bri twisted the sheets at his side, trying to forget the screams that had rung through the myst. Alec collapsed back, crosswise, onto the bed, throwing an arm over his face. He looked exhausted and beaten.
“We may have succeeded in putting a few kinks in the ritual,” Alec said. “So maybe it wasn’t a total loss.”
“It’s still sad about all those people though.” Suddenly cold, Bri reached over Alec and grabbed his robe from the bottom of the bed.
“Yes, it is.”
With the added comfort of the soft fabric, Bri leaned on the wall and let his eyes close. It had been a long night. “You’re all right? And everyone else?”
“All things considered, we came out relatively unscathed. And you? You were fine in the myst?”
Gods, he so wanted to tell Alec. Tell him about Kai and his father—their father. He wanted to share the elation that danced through his heart at the knowledge that he had a brother, a family. But he couldn’t. He had promised. And Kai’s safety was important.
“Yes,” he said, leaving everything else in the quiet of his mind.
“Yes? That’s it?”
“I didn’t have so much trouble tonight. It was easy.”
Bri thought he saw Alec nod behind his arm, but couldn’t be sure. Alec’s body took on that languid appearance of sleep, his muscles slacking and his weight sinking into the soft mattress. “You look tired,” Bri said.
Alec made an unintelligible noise that sounded like an affirmation.
“You should get to bed.”
Another monosyllabic answer.
“Are you staying here?”
The answer was definitely nothing more than Alec’s sleep talking.
Sleep overtook Bri as well. He nudged Alec with his feet as he lay back on his pillow. “Can you at least get out of those bloody clothes?”
Hoping for a silence he knew wouldn’t come, Tassos gave in to the pull that summoned him to a soul’s side, and let himself drift into the misused temple. The screams from the nine souls he hadn’t been able to save were nothing more than he deserved. Not enough to shatter his nerves, for he had seen far too much in all his years to be so affected, but the sounds of pure agony still hammered at his heart and made him weary.
Not my job to save them. He had reminded himself of that every breath for the last few turns. I am responsible only for the ease of their passing. It was a mantra that had little effect.
The first of Lillianna’s victims he went to was a young woman, once beautiful in life, with long flowing locks of ebony hair. Now, she lay bloody and screaming, her chest a gaping wound that hemorrhaged life. Tassos reached past that ungodly hole, and took the center of her soul in-hand. He drew her out and stood the ephemeral ghost on her feet beside her ruined body. The writhing and the screaming stopped. The soul of the young woman looked at him, sad and confused, her eyes filled with a pain that would never completely leave. Perhaps the hand of The One could soothe her, but Tassos’s faith in that likelihood had long ago faded. While Haven’s seraph still preached and worked, no one had laid eyes on The Silent One in eons. It was blasphemy, but the thought was beginning to cross more than a few minds.
With all that lay at his feet, the thought was harder to ignore.
Rather than attempt his charming lopsided smile that often gave reassurance to the recently deceased, Tassos simply sighed at the broken expression on the soul’s face and proceeded to the next body—a young man, though perhaps “boy” would have been appropriate. Reciting his mantra to himself again, he removed the soul and set it beside the woman’s. Two sets of hollow eyes stared at him, and Tassos for a moment hated his job. He moved onto the next.
“What took you so long?” Her voice cut across the silence mixed with hellish cries.
Tassos kept to his work. Would it have been too much to ask that he be left alone to deal with this? Luck had not been on his side lately. “I am not an idiot, Gabriel. I have no desire to get mixed up in Lillianna’s plots.” With the third soul freed from its ravaged body, the room grew a bit quieter.
“You mean, you have no desire to be further mixed up in her plots. I’ve had someone from The Center here. I know there is reaper blood on those labrynths. Imagine my lack of surprise when you show up.”
“I did not help her.” He continued his task, not daring to glance at the seraph. The last thing he needed was to be blinded by Haven’s sinless pride and glory. Souls first.
“So then this is not your blood?” Her boots clicked against the stone.
He set the fourth and fifth souls free before answering. “Yes. It is my blood.”
“Then I should arrest you for treason against Haven and against the Mortal Realm.”
“It cannot be treason when I am of neither of those realms. And you cannot arrest me for doing what was made my purpose.”
“You are to ferry the dead to the other side, not assist in their demise.”
“Reapers bend the rules all the time,” Tassos said.
“This is a little more than bending the rules.”
Six, then seven souls followed him as he made his way through the room. Seven desecrated beings that only he could see. Gazing upon them, Tassos had his answer for the General of the First File. “I have ample punishment for my sin, Gabriel. I assure you.”
She came closer, her armor clanging and swishing as she moved with otherworldly speed. He felt her presence press against his back, but he kept his eyes on those who needed him.
“How could you let this happen?”
Eight souls. “Not everything is black and white, you know.”
“You allowed this.”
With the ninth soul, Tassos felt his penance gather into one seemingly tangible place. “I did not allow this.”
“You enabled it.”
“It was a trade,” Tassos admitted.
“What could you possibly see this as a fair trade for?”
“I did not say the trade was fair,” he said, thinking of the poor souls who had suffered at Kai’s hands as that wretched child had worked to find a way to where they all were now. “Others were suffering. I gained their release, and these poor souls I promised my services to.”
Gabriel grabbed his arm. Tassos allowed her to spin him around until they were face-to-face. “Answer me in something other than a riddle.”
She was so beautiful, so perfect in so many ways. Her single-mindedness was one of her greatest strengths, but also her greatest weakness. The determination that lined her face made her appear harsh and unapproachable, spoiling what lingered there naturally. “How long have we known each other, Gabe?” He asked, using her childhood name to make a point. “How many times have you and I kept order in the Mortal Realm?”
“Too many to count.” There was a hint of reluctance in her answer.
“Then release me. You’re w
rinkling me.”
His jibe had the desired effect and she cursed, pushing him away from her grip. She paced, the blood on the floor spraying up onto her silver and black boots. She rubbed at her face, then turned back to him. “Tell me the truth of this, Tassos.”
“Do you honestly think I would give away my blood for this?”
“You did give away your blood!”
“I did. But it was not what Lillianna thought. She, too, should know me better. Her excitement has made her foolish, and she acts in haste.”
“Lillianna is a planner. She has the patience of seroco seed in the ground, waiting hundreds if not thousands of years to take root.”
“Very true. But once she begins to take root, she treasures speed.”
“An answer, Tassos. No more circles.”
He placed both hands on his hips, keeping his back to the souls who reminded him of worse things. Playing this little game, though grandly untimely, had lifted his mood. “You don’t want to guess?”
By her reaching for the knife at her back, it appeared not.
“Fine. Suit yourself. I was drunk.”
“You were drunk?” If she were a cat, Tassos imagined she’d have her hackles up.
“Yes. It happens when you go out and have a good time, relax a little, have more than a bit of ale to drink. You should try it sometime.”
Gabriel turned red with both embarrassment and anger. “I know what drunk is. Why is that important?”
“You honestly think a spell such as this, a ritual that takes so many centuries of careful planning and precise execution works with inebriated reaper blood? Honestly. She may have nine living hearts now, but there is little chance they are exactly what she was expecting.”
— CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE —
Bri, just tell me why.”
“Why what?” They were lying beside one another in a deep corner of the myst. Kai kept a hand on Bri’s arm while Bri let the images of the ocean pass by them both. The tendril he’d found was just a quiet day, a fisherman out on his boat, the waves steady and calm. Six weeks had passed since they’d first met, and in that time, they’d spent a dozen afternoons like this.
“Why you sold your soul.”
Bri sighed, and the sounds and sights of the ocean faded. “It was either that or die.”
Kai grumbled, folding his hands behind his head. “I wish we’d met earlier. I wish I hadn’t lost you that night. I would have protected you.”
“Oh? How so?”
“I told you, I’m a very talented witch. I could have taken out that entire caravan for you. Then you and I could have run away together.”
“It’s a nice fantasy, Kai, and I appreciate the sentiment, but it just didn’t happen that way. Would you rather I hadn’t sold my soul?”
“No. Alive is good. If you were dead we’d never be together.”
“Morbid and profound.”
“I will protect you though, Bri. I swear it. It will be you and me. Together. Forever.”
Bri took Kai’s hand and reached for the images of the ocean again. “I hope you’re right.”
Alec groaned, then winced when his head knocked against the long, polished dining room table. He had made it downstairs, but the trip was foggy and he so badly wished for sleep. The newspaper had been set out for him, probably waiting for hours since it was well past noon. He dragged his head back up and pulled the freshly inked printing closer, blinking and squinting in order to read the headlines.
Something about the royal engagement. Nothing new. He peeled through the pages, searching for anything useful, but came across little. One article mentioned some unrest at the borders, but he wasn’t awake enough to read it. He wished, and not for the first time, that he knew what was going on. It had been weeks since the incident at the temple. Six, to be precise, and there had been no sign of Lillianna or her plans. Worse yet, Carma had done nothing about it. Said nothing. In fact, she seemed to do little at all—apart from keeping him up all night. He rubbed at his face. A man can only take so much. Even an immortal man.
The clink of a porcelain cup being set beside him and a strong, welcome aroma woke him gradually. “Coffee for you, my lord?”
Alec took the cup in his hands like it was life itself. “Thank you, Lynnara.” He sipped the dark roast and closed his eyes as the warmth washed over his body.
“Perhaps something to eat as well?”
“Whatever Vella has is fine by me.” Their cook was from The Wilds, and despite what one might think of the still largely uncivilized land, everything the woman prepared was brilliant.
Lynnara nodded, curtsied, and left. A minute later, he wished she hadn’t, because Picadilly walked in and sat across from him. She leaned back, folding her arms over her chest and crossing her legs, studying him. By the adapted men’s clothing she wore, Alec could tell something was up.
“Well, you’re clearly not dressed for town today.” He took a long drink of his coffee, attempting to drown out the unmistakable thrum of power from Hell she drew in.
She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, the way an addict enjoyed a surge from their preferred drug. “I’m not going to town, so why bother?”
All the coffee in the world couldn’t make him forget that tempting sensation. “What if someone comes to call?”
She scoffed. “Then it’s not their business what I do in the privacy of my own home.”
“Gossip circles everywhere would argue otherwise. Besides, I’m not buying it. You love to dress up.”
“Dorothea asked for my help today. She wants to do a few scribings in the woods out back. With her youth declining still, I think she worries she will suddenly turn old again and need help walking through the brush.”
All true, though the thought of Dorothea admitting it to anyone was unimaginable. The magic that had returned her youth had stayed with her longer than expected, but the changes that came with its departure had proven sporadic. Her age would decline steadily for a few days, then suddenly she would keel over and stand back up five or more years older. Currently, her physical age appeared somewhere around where she had been at five hundred, or a human fifty.
None of that explained Pica’s willingness to help, so Alec asked, “What do you get out of it?”
“A spell or two that will restore more of my former power.”
Which was the only thing she ever wanted. “Have a grand time then.”
“I shall. And what about you? You look like you got run over by a stampede of wild horses.”
“I feel like it.”
“Being a demon’s consort can be such hard work,” she mocked him.
“I think I hardly qualify as her consort.”
Her fingers danced, small blue sparks jumping from tip to tip. She used her power so easily. “Why do you deny yourself, Alec? Eternity is not meant to be spent in self-imposed penance and torment.”
Those sparks of power called to him. He could have so easily answered and given them his body to control. “It is not?”
“Indulge yourself now and then.”
“I’d rather not be a slave to that power.”
She frowned. “I am no slave.”
“Go a day without it then.”
“That was not the nature of my deal with Carma.”
“And mine was nothing like yours.” Alec sipped his now lukewarm coffee.
Pica sparked another dozen tiny flames from her fingers, taunting him.
Thankfully, a maid returned with a plate of cold ham, steaming potatoes and sliced fruit. Picadilly was forced to cast aside the blatant visual clues to her true self. Alec thanked the maid and dug in immediately, not caring to continue the banter. “Where is Carma now?”
Pica shrugged, settling back into a more casual enjoyment of her power. “You know she never tells anyone. All I know is that she left by the front door about two turns ago.”
The food brought life and wakefulness back to his body better than the coffee had. Alec devoured most of it before a
sking his next question. “And Bri? Probably outside reading.”
“No, actually. Upstairs in his room.”
Alec stopped his fork just shy of his mouth. “Again?”
“Has been most of the morning.”
It was a strange habit the boy had picked up as of late. Whereas Bri had often gone off to be alone, it was always to the library in the cold months and outside under a tree when warm. Never to his room. “What in all the realms is he doing up there?”
“Oh, honestly, Alec. When you were fifteen and you went to your room to be alone, what was it you were doing?”
He stared at her a moment, first in confusion, then in shock as his memory supplied the answer. “I was—” He coughed. “But, no. Bri isn’t…is he?” Alec stared at the ceiling as though he could see through it for the answer. “I mean…he’s never shown any interest, and given his past…”
“Oh, Alec. Leave the boy alone. He’s hardly a child anymore. If he doesn’t educate himself, I’m sure some pretty little thing will do it for him.”
“I’m going to go check on him.” He pushed his chair back from the table.
Picadilly fixed him with a serious and unsupportive gaze. “Sit down, Alec. He’s fine. And you certainly don’t want to walk in on anything, do you?”
“…No.”
“Then sit.”
Alec sat.
He finished his meal in silence, avoiding eye contact with Picadilly and trying to avoid thinking about anything else. His fork scraped across a cleaned plate the same moment the front door opened and Carma waltzed in. She was dressed for an audience, her long red skirt swishing about her legs, contrasting with the black bodice that created a silhouette that would stop a man dead in his tracks. Tossing her hat onto the table, she pulled off her gloves as she sat in the first chair she came to.
“Where have you been?” Alec asked.
“Doesn’t matter. Picadilly, is everything prepared?”
“Dorothea’s been locked in her workshop all morning, so I would imagine so.”
“Good.” Carma tossed her long silver hair over her shoulder. “Alec, take Bri to town, will you?”