“That was before you ended up nose to nose with the Death King,” she said. “And before we found out it was his. The Order and he are on close speaking terms with one another, I’m sure. They can get it into his hands.”
“That’s putting a lot more faith in the Order than I’d like,” I commented. “For all I know, the Order knows the Death King’s army is hunting for me, too, and they’ll hand me over along with the amulet.”
“Would he admit to the Order that he lost his soul?” she said. “I wouldn’t, if I were him. The Order might be his allies, but he wouldn’t want the whole world to know his vulnerabilities.”
I opened and closed my mouth, recalling how he’d been able to use some of his powers even while astral projecting. Vulnerable was not a word I’d use in association with a faceless masked monster, but without his soul? Perhaps he was, however unlikely it seemed.
There was just one slight issue. “There’s someone working against me within the Order itself, even if you disregard the Death King’s people hunting me down. The person who sent me to get the amulet the first time and the person who told me to put it back are at cross-purposes, and there’s no guarantee that whoever I give it to isn’t just going to hand it straight to the soul thief.”
I was almost certain Mr Cobb was as squeaky clean as a swamp monster, but with no proof of his guilt, I’d be the one to face the backlash.
“The Order or the Death King,” she said. “Your choice.”
“It’s like being asked to choose between crossing a river of lava or trekking over a deadly mountain filled with dragons.”
“Hey, I’m not the one who set up this scenario,” said Devon. “What would your D&D character do?”
My tiefling rogue would have run like hell by now. She knew how to pick her battles. I’d thought I did, too, but the notion of the Parallel potentially winding up in the midst of a second war made me go cold inside. The idea of Brant losing his soul, even more so.
Death or the Order. What a choice.
I swallowed against my dry throat. “The Death King.”
Once Devon had closed up the shop for the evening, we set about devising a plan. With using the nodes off the table, that left one way into the Death King’s castle… on the ground.
“I still think you might have been better off using another invisibility cantrip,” she said.
“Normally I’d agree, but the liches can sense living people without seeing them, can’t they?” I said. “I mean, they don’t have eyes.”
“If I knew how they sensed people, I’d know which approach to go with.” She flipped a coin over in her hand—one of her spares, not yet imprinted with a spell. “Okay, a mimic cantrip. That might work.”
“What, make me look like one of his people?” I considered this. “Perhaps not one of the Four Elemental Soldiers—I haven’t seen them close up enough times to be able to accurately mimic one of them.”
“Nah, that’d be way too complex for me to do in a single night,” she said. “And wights can’t talk, so you wouldn’t get very far by pretending to be one of them. I think I should make you look like a lich. It’s just a shadowy cloak, more or less, isn’t it?”
“You can pull that off?” I asked.
“Easy.” She flipped the coin again. “Want one for fire-boy, too?”
“Brant? Nah. He prefers to go in all guns blazing rather than slithering about in the shadows.”
She snorted. “You’ve got that right.”
He wouldn’t be pleased at being left behind either, but I’d been lucky not to get either of us killed earlier. I had to return the amulet alone. “Are you okay with blowing off Judith and the others? You know you could get into serious trouble for helping me.”
She gave a shrug. “Yeah, but I’d be in deeper shit if you hadn’t helped me with my taxes.”
“That’s what I’m good for.” I grinned. “Aside from entertaining you by rolling natural ones at the worst moments.”
“You bet.” She palmed the coin. “If it helps, I think you’re crazy enough to pull this off. The soul thief, though, you’re better off staying away from.”
“I would if I knew who it was,” I said. “Brant doesn’t know either.”
“You sure about that?”
“Of course I am.” I looked away. “Yes, he did omit information and I’m pissed at him for that, but the thief had him on his hit list before he even found out I existed.”
“You can’t deny Brant has that whole overprotective macho shit going on, though,” she said.
“When we first met, I knew pretty much nothing about the Parallel,” I said. “I needed saving a lot, by necessity, but I think he liked doing the saving. He liked having someone to protect.”
I’d made less of an objection than I might have done in other circumstances, because it was nice to have someone who liked the person I was now, not whoever lay between those years of broken memories. Now, though? I had to be the one to end this, and I hoped he understood that.
“You know him better than I do,” she said. “At least he seems to respect you.”
“He knows I can handle myself. Most of the time.” He’d convinced me to use spirit magic, and I’d pulled it off. Okay, it hadn’t exactly gone as planned, but he’d had nothing but confidence in my abilities, which made a refreshing change.
Yes, it would have been nice if he’d mentioned it earlier, but he’d known less than I did about spirit magic when we’d met and knowing wasn’t the same as being able to use it safely in action. It was difficult to tell if any of my paranoia was justified after what felt like a lifetime of people tiptoeing around me as though I’d shatter if they held me too hard.
Devon’s expression softened. “You’re overthinking, I can tell. You head to bed, and I’ll get on with the cantrip. I’ve had time to nap today. You haven’t.”
“I kind of had a power nap when I was knocked out of my body, if that counts.”
“That’s not the same,” she said. “I’ll handle the cantrip, and tomorrow, you’ll sneak back into the castle and put the matter to rest. Or bury it in a coffin. Whatever.”
It wouldn’t be that simple, I knew, but with the Death King off my back, I’d be free to direct my efforts at the Order.
The Order, and the traitor in their ranks.
With Mr Cobb still commanding respect, it was too risky to mention the amulet in front of them, or even show my face. I’d been lucky not to be caught earlier. Luckier than escaping the Death King, even. The Order would have to wait until later.
The Order or the Death King. The Order or Death.
Please say I made the right call.
Despite the churning mass of thoughts in my mind, I passed out cold the instant my head hit the pillow.
The next second, I found myself coming to wakefulness, floating above my bed and through the ceiling until I hovered above my house. The nodes were bright from this angle, vibrant pinpricks spreading throughout the city. I’d never seen them so vividly before, like pillars of cool light piercing the heavens.
Elements. Was I out of my body, or astral projecting again? A mere dream couldn’t be this vivid, surely. In the streets below, drunken teenagers staggered around the park, Uber drivers idled at the side of the pavement waiting to pick up partygoers, and night blanketed the world, nobody paying me the slightest iota of attention.
Impulsively, I floated into the current of piercing energy in the middle of the house. The light swallowed me up, and I emerged from another node elsewhere in the city. One blink and I did the same again, until I floated in a halo of lights. Traversing the nodes was much easier without the Order watching my every move.
“You.” The voice came from somewhere behind me, sending a cold wave of fear through my body. I skidded to a halt in mid-air, my mind reeling with shock. I knew that voice.
Slowly, I spun around. The Death King hovered in front of me, a shadowy outline shaped like a person. I couldn’t escape him even in my dreams, apparently.
Unless I wasn’t dreaming. Unless I’d really floated halfway across the city and found him waiting on the other side. I looked down, unnerved to see only darkness where my feet should have been. “Why are you following me?”
“Because you stole something of mine,” he said.
“Not on purpose,” I said. “I got my hands on your soul by accident, but I’m going to put it back where it belongs, if you’ll let me.”
“Forgive me if I don’t believe you.” The shadowy form of the Death King moved closer. “I don’t take kindly to people stealing my property.”
Shivers danced down my spine. He sounded too close to be anything but real, but most dreams felt real, didn’t they? My one slim advantage was that it was full dark, and I’d travelled miles away from my house. He shouldn’t be able to find my body, or Devon, but that was a small comfort right now.
“I expect you don’t,” I said. “How are you here? In this realm?”
“And you?” he said, his voice barely a breath. “Tell me your name.”
A wave of chills gripped me. “You know, I was willing to play along with this dream scenario thing for a minute there, but you’re officially freaking me out. Goodbye.”
I turned my back, sensing him watching me floating away. The node’s embrace came as a sweet relief, sending me back towards home. As I fought my way back to wakefulness, I heard a familiar voice whispering in my head.
The first stage of spirit magic… travelling through the nodes.
The second… astral projecting.
And the third… the third…
My eyes flew open and I found myself back in bed, Dirk Alban’s voice fading from my mind.
14
By morning, the mimic amulet was done, my dream was behind me, and I was ready to pretend to be a lich. Preferably with my soul remaining attached to my body.
Devon presented the cantrip to me with a flourish. “Way easier than last time. Granted, I just turned you into a floating cloak, so don’t do any stripteases.”
“Not on my agenda, believe me.” I pulled a face. “Weird dreams about the Death King are bad enough without turning into nightmares.”
“You were dreaming about him?” she asked.
“That, or he can astral project at me in my sleep.” For all I knew, that was one of his talents. It was no more absurd than the notion of him astral projecting around the city while everyone else was asleep. Liches didn’t need to sleep, being dead, so maybe that’s how they entertained themselves. Who knew?
I twisted the cantrip in my hands. With a flash of light, I turned tall and shadowy. Devon looked up at me, which was weird as hell considering she was usually taller than I was.
“Good. The cloak’s a bit long, but most liches are taller than you are.”
“Maybe that’s why I never got invited to join them,” I said. “There’s a height requirement.”
There came a knock on the door. Devon sighed.
“Hang on.” I twisted the cantrip as she walked to the door, but the shadowy cloak didn’t disappear. The door opened, revealing Trix the elf.
“Oh, hey, Liv,” he said. “You look different. I like the cloak. Bit dark for my tastes, though.”
Another couple of twists and I managed to turn off the lich disguise before I used the cantrip up without even setting foot in the Parallel. “How did you know it was me?”
“I assumed Devon didn’t invite an actual lich into the shop,” he said.
I suppressed an eye-roll.
“Here’s your charm.” Devon held out a cantrip to the elf. “That’ll be twenty-five pounds.”
He handed her the money. “I wouldn’t go to the Parallel today. There’s trouble.”
“Death King trouble?” I asked.
“Yeah… why?” He looked me over. “Is that why you’re dressed like one of them?”
“Kind of,” I said. “What’s he doing, sending his army out to terrorise everyone in Arcadia again?”
“Yes, his people are prowling the streets,” he said. “Looking for someone. Wouldn’t want to be them.”
“Nor would I.”
Devon arched a brow at me. Trix, of course, remained happily oblivious. “Will you be at D&D night this week?”
“Wouldn’t miss it.” Assuming I lived that long. “Trix, do me a favour? Stay away from the Parallel until this mess is sorted out.”
I’d deal with this alone. As long as I didn’t say the wrong thing, I’d be able to pass as a lich, get to the Death King… and hand over the amulet.
Unsurprisingly, Brant wasn’t a fan of my plan. We’d met near the node and headed to his safe house to plan our next move, at which point he’d insisted going in alone was foolish at best.
“Last time, you nearly lost your soul,” he said. “It’s too risky.”
“You were congratulating me yesterday,” I said. “What’s the problem?”
“The Death King is bringing out reinforcements,” he said. “Not that I don’t think you can pull off the act, but his army is on full alert. He wants that soul, and he’s willing to do anything to get it back.”
“All the more reason to get the amulet off my hands before the situation gets any worse.”
“With my help.” He opened the top drawer beside the sofa bed, revealing piles of smooth round coins. “I have more cantrips than you can carry yourself.”
“Are you capable of going more than a minute without conjuring up a flame?” I queried. “Because it doesn’t matter how well you disguise yourself. If you use your fire, you’ll draw attention to both of us.”
His jaw locked. “So I’m expected to watch you walk into the swamp alone?”
“More floating than walking,” I said. “I’m going to be a lich. Check this out.”
I flicked on the cantrip. At once, I turned into a tall shadowy figure. Brant’s eyes widened as he found himself looking up at me. “Um… Liv? Are you in there?”
“Yes,” I said. “This is my resting lich face.”
Brant grinned. “Very scary.”
“I try.” I gave a twirl, and my feet tangled up in the cloak. Brant caught me by the arm. “I guess this is why the Death King doesn’t throw dance parties.”
His hand lingered on my arm for a moment, then he let go. “I’m still not sure about this.”
“If I was ever a hundred percent certain before acting, I’d get nothing done at all.”
I tried to be patient with him. He was just looking out for me. Maybe a little more than I wanted to, but that wouldn’t last forever. Not when I made it clear I wasn’t that girl who’d escaped the Order with her memories broken and her mind shattered.
I was ready to be someone else.
Maybe not a lich, though. I tripped twice more on my way to the door and ended up hiking up my shadowy cloak to keep it off the ground. I turned off the disguise to walk through the streets, since the Death King’s forces had pulled back to his territory and people might get suspicious at the sight of a lone lich walking alongside a fire mage through the streets of Arcadia.
I stopped by the tree at the swamp’s edge to pick up the weapons I’d left behind. It was a testament to how well the hollow inside of the tree was hidden that nobody had swiped them until now, though the liches had far more effective weapons at their fingertips. I grabbed two knives and concealed them beneath my coat along with my cantrips. Then I straightened upright. “All right, Dex, let’s do this.”
Dex didn’t answer. I hadn’t seen him since I’d come back to the Parallel, but maybe it was for the best that he stayed out of this one. After all, the Death King had spotted him when we’d accidentally travelled through the node together.
Brant nudged me. “I’d better go before someone sees me.”
“Then I’m going in.” I drew in a breath. “Wish me luck.”
I turned on my disguise and walked towards the swamplands, holding my head high. I didn’t know if that made a difference, but it made me feel marginally more confident about
pulling this off. I wasn’t about to try hopping through a node after last time, so I walked on foot, trying to ignore the way my cloak dragged in the marshy waters in an un-lich-like manner. Dark shapes appeared in the distance, making my shoulders tense, but they were only phantoms, drifting around without cause.
I passed the spot where the water mage’s hut had collapsed, a scorched area of the swamplands where no traces remained of their visitor. The Death King’s Fire Element had done that. I’d better not run into one of them.
“Dex,” I whispered. “Where are you?”
Worry gnawed at me. Even if he’d feared for his own safety—which was a legitimate concern, considering the Death King’s people didn’t see having a physical body as a necessary requirement to inflict horrible torture on someone—it didn’t seem right for him to vanish on me in a time of need. It made me feel vulnerable, alone, like I had when I’d drifted above the nodes and faced the Death King in last night’s bizarre dream.
Closer to the gates, I spotted groups of skeletal wights walking among the shadowy forms of liches, as though they’d been invited to network at a Grim Reaper convention. None of them spoke to me, though some of the liches gave a cursory glance to acknowledge my presence. My gaze panned across the gates circling the Death King’s castle. There didn’t appear to be any other way in except on the ground, and it looked as though he’d positioned extra guards outside after yesterday. Two liches stood on each side of the gates, wielding sharp-looking scythes.
Had he assumed that after my accidental astral projection, I’d try to get in another way? Maybe. Unlike the wights, liches retained their intelligence, so fooling them wouldn’t be easy. I moved among the shadowy figures, as casual as possible for a faceless being in a long dark cloak, catching snippets of conversation among the dead.
“He still thinks the thief will come back here,” one lich murmured to another. “He thinks it’s a human.”
“A spirit mage,” returned the second lich. “No regular human. A threat.”
Fear trickled down my spine. It was all I could do to keep my steps steady, to maintain a cool exterior. Murmurs of wars, of the Death King’s wrath, passed among the liches, with more enthusiasm than I cared for. They didn’t seem afraid of their leader, but then again, they’d ripped their own souls from their bodies voluntarily. The notion of going to war excited them. Why did I come here again?
Thief of Souls Page 14