“And opening more channels so spirits can find their own way,” Junior added. “But it’s not enough.”
“Like-minded guardians have been working for centuries to change things, either by outnumbering and outvoting them, or by starting a rebellion.”
That statement floored her. Anger and indignation at the methods used by the guardians was one thing, but a rebellion? Visions of epic battles from Revelation to The Iliad flashed through her mind and she became seized by panic.
“Vivian,” Jeanne said, pulling her chin up with warm fingertips so that their gazes met. “We need all the help we can get. We need you.”
“And if I refuse?”
All of the spirits focused on her and she felt the temperature ratchet up. For once, she was grateful that Darkmore hadn’t listened to her when she’d asked him to vacate her personal premises. He sent waves of soothing cool through her in defense. Clearly, she hadn’t pleased the rag-tag rebel alliance with her response.
“Since your kind dragged me into your affairs—unwillingly, I might add—I’ve been a slave to whoever wants a piece of me. I’ve never had a choice! Not from Ezra, not from the council, and not from you now.”
“Do you think we have a choice?” Jeanne shot back.
“You volunteered. I didn’t.”
“So you’d walk away from us? Give up on all of these beautiful souls you’ve helped and just let them languish along with the living who need you?”
“Of course she would,” boomed the voice of Wallace. “There’s a reason for the council. There’s a reason why we don’t share our power with mortals. They are weak-willed and selfish. They have no place with us.”
Oh my God.
The rogue guardian was Wallace. He’d been there the night Father Montgomery was attacked. He hated her, resented her powers and her work, and he believed in council—a council he’d apparently been working for.
As realization dawned on Vivian, she shoved the guardians flanking her away and dashed forward to deflect the blast of light from Wallace. She managed, but her light didn’t block one ray that hit her in her shoulder.
Vivian, get down!
“Darkmore, get out. Get the fuck out of me now!” she cried.
The pain in her shoulder seared, but adrenaline trumped it and she shot back. Wallace flashed out of the way, and her blast knocked over a tree instead.
“Jeanne, Padre, get the others to safety!”
Many wispy spirits disappeared into the trees along the perimeter while Junior herded those in a panic away to safety. Jeanne and the priest flanked Vivian, casting blasts of light wherever Wallace appeared. She’d never seen a spirit move so fast. Uriel and his buddies must have given him premium fuel. Fuel harvested from the living in their dying hours. Payment. Tribute. Folks like Mae and their families.
“Playing hide and seek? Too scared to come and fight face to face?” she said, taunting.
“What are you doing?” Jeanne asked, grabbing her by the collar.
“We can’t let him get away,” she gasped, the wound in her shoulder searing more under Jeanne’s grip. “He’ll keep on sucking the life out of people and giving it to those self-righteous assholes on the council. We’ve got to stop him now.”
Jeanne nodded and clasped hands with the padre. Their mental texts were too rapid for Vivian to fully grasp, but they appeared to be in negotiations with the rogue spirit. Vivian stumbled over to the tree line and leaned on a hickory. She didn’t dare sit. She didn’t think she’d be able to get up.
“Darkmore, help me out here. What do you have on Wallace?”
Not much, I’m afraid. He’s a true believer in the cause and he has a grudge against Ezra. Try that one. You both have that in common. While you’re at it, you should repair your shoulder.
“You should get out.”
Nonsense. I haven’t had this much fun in years.
“What if I die? What happens to you and your soul?”
An interesting question. I suppose you’ll just have to keep us both safe.
“This isn’t a game. I don’t want to cause you harm any more than I want these souls to suffer.”
I know. That’s what I’m counting on.
Damn him. He knew her Achilles’ heel and he was using it against her. She focused her energy on the wound on her shoulder and managed to reduce the agony to a dull ache. The rest would have to wait.
“Hey, Wallace,” she yelled. “I had an interesting little chat with Uriel tonight. Raph and Gabe were there, too. If you think they’re going to just hand Ezra over to you in exchange for taking me out of commission, think again.”
A temporary cease-fire let Vivian know that she had his attention. Now she’d have to keep it.
“He’s been playing both sides and they know it. What’s more, they gave him the green light. He’s good at hauling in massive loads of energy. You think they’re going to just let their top producer go? They played you, Wallace. They’re playing all of us. It’s what they do.”
“You lie, mortal. You would do anything to save your worthless life and hold onto your power.”
“No, I wouldn’t. If I could give this curse back, I would do it in a heartbeat. All I ever wanted was a normal life. But Ezra showed up and he wanted my sister. I didn’t give her to him, and I won’t give all of these souls over to you or anyone else either.”
“I have no interest in these pitiful abominations who have betrayed our kind and our ways. There is no room for the unaffiliated. You all must choose!”
“Free will, Wallace. Every soul has that right.”
“Not you.”
She whirled around and found herself face-to-face with Wallace. He grabbed her by the neck and lifted her, his blazing hand burning her neck as he choked the life out of her. She struggled, gasping for air. Her frail human body could not withstand the onslaught.
“Don’t fight, woman. It will hurt less. I shall claim you and bring you into the fold, where you belong. The others will follow.”
Vivian’s consciousness ebbed away. Terror gripped her, but not at the prospect of death. If death solved problems, she might have chosen it over a year ago. No, she feared enslavement. She would not serve them. She kicked.
Wallace’s sudden release of her came as a shock. Surely her pathetic defense hadn’t done that. She looked up and saw Wallace grimace. When he turned, Vivian saw the raw, charred flesh through his shirt.
“Serves you right!” Mrs. Martin shouted as she delivered another blast. “Leave me waiting in a damned office for a century!”
A century? Dear God, how long have I been gone? She shook that thought off and scooted backward, placing distance between herself and the two guardians locked in battle. Wallace shot Mrs. Martin in the stomach and she flew backward, slamming onto the ground. Then he turned back to Vivian.
“You are ours now, Vivian Bedford,” he said as he raised his arm and fired.
She fired almost simultaneously, shrieking in horror as both blasts caught Darkmore. She felt his presence depart her body too late to stop her stream of light energy or to move them out of the way.
“No!”
The impact sent him careening to the ground between them. She grabbed Darkmore’s hand and took a long draw of his darkness. Then she sent it to Wallace.
His face became a mask of rage, anguish, and finally resignation. His corporeal form disintegrated, and Vivian caught a glimpse of his soul as it folded and fell into the swirling vortex. She didn’t know where she’d sent him, but she hoped he’d have a hard time getting back to the human realm to hurt anyone else anytime soon.
Jeanne and the priest ran toward Vivian, trying to help her off the ground. Junior emerged from the tree line with several spirits in tow. She shook them off and turned to Darkmore.
“Darkmore, damn it, get up!”
His corporeal form did not bear any obvious signs of physical injury, but she knew the blasts had taken a toll. He didn’t move or respond. Her touch did not rouse him.
“This isn’t funny. Get up right now and help me clean up this mess.”
“Vivian, perhaps—”
“No, Padre,” she said, shaking off the hand he’d gently placed on her shoulder. “He isn’t dead. He was already dead so he can’t be dead. He’s here somewhere.” She rose, raging and screaming at the gathering throng. “Tell me where he went! What happens when y’all get hit! Don’t you just regroup and form another body?”
“Honey,” Jeanne began. “His body is still here.”
“So where is he?”
“If a reaper loses a life while in corporeal form, he must go back and begin again.”
“Begin again? What the hell does that mean?”
“He’ll start over as a new spirit.”
“Darkmore? At the bottom of the reaper chain?” she asked, incredulous. She’d seen a bit of the reaper hierarchy and politics during her last visit to Darkmore’s realm. Someone as old and seasoned as her reaper would have made more than a few enemies, and those he’d stepped on during his rise would no doubt revel in kicking him on the way down.
She couldn’t stomach it.
She fell to the ground and straddled the reaper, ripping his jacket and shirt to expose his chest. She knew that guardian bodies sometimes maintained a heartbeat, having heard Zeke’s. Whether they kept it up as a ruse to blend in versus having an actual blood-pumping capacity, she had no idea.
Since she didn’t have anything else to go on, she listened for Darkmore’s and detected the sluggish and erratic rhythm. His breathing was shallow and labored. She stroked his face and pleaded with him to stay with her. Closing her eyes, she placed both hands on his chest and focused her energy on him.
The healing power flowed freely, so desperate was her desire to save him. His arms shot up and his strong hands clasped her to him. He took in her blinding light, latching his mouth onto hers.
She collapsed atop him, gulping for air and recovering from the energy transfer. His arms encircled her and stroked her back. His touch gave her shivers, but not from his innate coolness. “Vivian?”
“Yes?”
“As much as I enjoy the closeness, would you mind removing yourself from me? I cannot breathe.”
She pulled herself away and hopped to her feet. That maneuver turned out to be a bad idea, since she lost her bearings and would have fallen backward had the priest not caught her. Jeanne surprised Vivian by waltzing right up to Darkmore and offering her hand. He accepted and she pulled him to his feet. Vivian struggled to escape the priest’s arms so she could run to Darkmore, but the reaper held a palm up. He seemed out of sorts.
“Darkmore?”
He surveyed the spirits around him. Some leaned in for a closer look, others shrank back in fear. Fresh fear gripped her as well. She couldn’t face another ghostly showdown tonight.
“Listen up, everyone,” she shouted. “This is Lazarus Darkmore, and yes, he’s a reaper. But he isn’t going to hurt anyone here. I promise. He’s been helping me.”
“You don’t have to worry about me harming anyone here, Vivian,” Darkmore said softly, lifting a sharp stick from the ground.
“I know,” she whispered out of the side of her mouth. “That’s what I just said. Pardon me for saying so, but you seem a little off your game.”
Darkmore took the pointed end of the stick and jabbed it into his forearm. Vivian screamed. He winced, but then stared in fascination at the blood flowing from the wound. So did Jeanne and the priest.
“Why the hell did you do that?” Vivian shouted, freeing herself and running to the reaper. She grabbed his arm, ripped out the branch and healed him.
“It was a test,” Darkmore whispered, his voice hollow.
“A test for what?” she asked. “What are you trying to prove?”
“That you are a truly gifted healer.”
He examined his body with mild curiosity, as if noticing it for the first time.
“Say something that makes sense,” she said, dreading the answer.
“Your powers worked a little too well, my dear. I’m tethered to this corporeal form now.”
Understanding dawned as consciousness faded.
The last thing she heard him say was, “You’ve made me a mortal.”
THE END
Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed RAISING THE DEAD, please take amoment to leave a rating or review here. Good reviews help readers know what to choose amongst the digital shelves and grow a series! So, tell a friend today.
And don’t miss book one of the Soul Broker novels, WAKING THE DEAD, now.
A chance encounter with a dying stranger opens an empathic connection between down-on-her-luck caregiver Vivian Bedford and the world of spirits. The supernatural seek her at every turn, and the cost of protection isn’t worth the price. When guardian spirits make an offer to help as long as she works on their side of afterlife management, she soon learns these guardians are no angels.
With her ability to channel energy from the living, she has only one bargaining chip left to play. And becoming a soul broker might cost her more than she’s willing to pay, even if the grim reaper comes in a seductive package. Will Vivian’s power be enough to save her soul and her disabled sister, Mae, from a fate worse than death?
Only death knows.
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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I thank my dear friends Stephanie Moore and Ronald Wuister. They were instrumental in my writing journey, read the first drafts, and gave me a wealth of great advice and encouragement. I’m grateful to my Music City Romance Writers sisters and brothers. Their support and knowledge base about everything from craft to marketing has made me a better writer and better business-minded author. Thanks to my agents, Victoria Lea and Natalia Aponte, for believing in the story and this series.
I am eternally grateful to Yelena Casale and Tina Moss of City Owl Press for the wonderful opportunity. I’m delighted to have such supportive and collaborative publishers! Thanks to Amanda Roberts for her fantastic edits, and to Olivia at Mibl Art for the beautiful cover art!
And most importantly, I thank my family. They are my biggest supporters, fans, and greatest source of inspiration.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
D.B. SIEDERS was born and raised in East Tennessee and spent her childhood hiking in the Great Smoky Mountains, wading barefoot in creeks, chasing salamanders, fish, and frogs. Her family loved to tell stories while sitting around the campfire.
Those days of frog chasing sparked her interest in biology. She is a working scientist by day, but she never lost her love of telling stories.
She write contemporary fantasy, fantasy romance, and contemporary romance. Her stories feature unlikely heroes and heroines who face a healthy dose of angst as they strive for redemption and a happily ever after, which everyone deserves. She lives in Nashville, Tennessee with her husband, two children, three cats, and her very active imagination.
www.dbsieders.com
ABOUT THE PUBLISHER
CITY OWL PRESS is a cutting edge indie publishing company, bringing the world of romance and speculative fiction to discerning readers.
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Raising the Dead Page 28