The Quick and the Dead

by D. B. Sieders

  The Blues Man grinned and nodded at Vivian. With a last look at the moon, he made magic with his voice and guitar, disappearing into the night with the lost souls. The last thing she heard as she entered the portal was a song about a red-haired woman trying to save the world.

  Zeke’s words came back to her then. We have at least two weapons against our baser natures, though—faith and free will. She’d have to have faith that somehow her message had been received. What the spirits did with it was up to them.

  And what she did next was up to her.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  They were on the move at sunset.

  The white van rolled down the highway, the first in a series of mixed vehicles loaded with Briggs’ teams. It was the same white serial killer van Chet had used to pick Vivian and the reaper up from the Burnin’ Bush. The bloodstains on the tattered upholstery were probably from the reaper’s bloodied and battered body. She wondered what a forensic examiner would make of a sample. If her healing energy had truly rendered Darkmore fully mortal, did he carry the DNA signature of a normal human? Would it be a match to any other living humans?

  She doubted it, since the form he wore was that of an entirely different man, different race, different physical condition, perhaps different enough from what was as close to arcane Homo sapiens DNA as one could get. But the blood in his veins was real enough, as were the fading bruises, the hairs of the beard he shaved, his fingertips—she’d been close enough to see the whorls that made up his fingerprints and the lines running along his palms.

  Her cheeks heated at memories of what those hands and fingertips could do.

  No, she couldn’t afford to think about that right now. They were on the eve of battle and too much was at stake. And her plan to protect and defend the lost souls involved other…complications. She’d have to shove a whole host of emotions aside to deal with the next few hours.

  Of course, it was difficult to push those emotions aside when the reaper was sitting next to her in the van. They’d chosen seats on the back bench, away from the others. Darkmore had probably done it out of courtesy, since he still made most of the team uncomfortable. It was his nature.

  When the silence proved as uncomfortable as the weight of his gaze, she said, “Let me guess. I’m still a fascinating tapestry of contradictions.”

  He smiled. “I suspect you always will be, but that’s not what I’m thinking.”

  She should not ask…she definitely should not ask…

  “Okay, so what are you thinking?”

  He leaned forward in the seat, closer to her, close enough for her to get lost in his coolness, his wintergreen and fresh snow scent. It reminded her that even in this human form, he was still reaper.

  “I’m thinking you’re up to something. I do hope it’s devious. I could use a little fun.”

  The way he said “fun” was so creepy and reaperish. He was trying to get under her skin, and damn it, it was working.

  She flexed her fingers, feeling the spirit light roiling beneath her skin, pulsing and eager to escape. They’d all received a fresh infusion of energy from Briggs before leaving HQ, and Vivian had fed the reaper the sorrows she’d converted into useful energy. Unfortunately, taking in those burdens hadn’t given her any new information or clues as to the identity of the traitor. Not that she’d expected much. The team members who came to her for relief were volunteers. Unless the traitor was arrogant and stupid enough to try his or her luck fooling Vivian, it wasn’t much of a trap.

  The actual trap she’d designed was better, but much riskier and more dangerous. She didn’t doubt he’d come through, but facing him again? No, she couldn’t think about that. She needed to focus on the trapped souls, her fellow soul brokers, and keeping Briggs safe. That was her mission right now.

  She’d focus on the fallout after.

  Darkmore leaned closer, rubbing his cheek against her, catlike and intimate. She resisted the urge to pull back—or lean in closer. “None of that right now. We need to focus.”

  He ran his nose along the shell of her ear, sending shivers down her spine and along all of her sensitive nerve endings. “I’ll keep you safe, Vivian. I always do.”

  And I’ll keep you safe, too, even if you don’t like my methods.

  Before she had the chance to open her mouth and say that out loud, he pulled back and surveyed the van’s other occupants. Gutierrez and B were on her team, which was great in that she trusted them, but also dicey since they might have had more luck finding the traitor if they’d been split among the other teams.

  Fortunately, she’d recruited a few unofficial teammates to keep an eye on the others.

  “Do you want to know?” she asked. Why had she said that? Was she trying to pick a fight with the reaper?

  Of course she was. Fighting and anger were much easier than dealing with other emotions—like guilt, dread, and the oddest sense of anticipation.

  His smile fell and he went still. “It’s still so strange, no knowing what you’re thinking.”

  She twisted in her chair, eyes wide and jaw gaping, an unbecoming sight, no doubt. “What do you mean you don’t know? I showed you everything not too long ago.”

  “And I showed you.” The words were muttered, almost to himself. “Nevertheless, since my…transformation, I’ve become less adept at gleaning the thoughts of mortals, unless, like you, they open themselves to me.”

  That was new, and more than a bit alarming. She’d noticed the physical changes, of course, and some of the psychological changes, but had not fully appreciated the extent of his mental and preternatural transformation.

  “I’m becoming more human with each passing hour,” he said, no trace of anger or judgment in his tone. He seemed…thoughtful, bemused and, to her surprise, pleased. “I never thought I would experience the fullness and richness of humanity. It is beautiful, frightening, wondrous, and heartbreaking. The form encasing me is so dynamic. Every cell and fiber moves, breathes, regenerates, and degenerates. I feel it living and slowly dying all around me.”

  She blinked back tears. God, she’d done more damage than she realized. Were they running out of time? If this mission failed, if she was unable to root out the traitor and keep Briggs safe, would the spirits channeled through mambo asogwe condemn the reaper to irreversible mortality?

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’ll make it right.” Somehow. She hoped it was a promise she could keep.

  “I’m not.”

  She stared at him, wide-eyed and shocked, so shocked that she didn’t bother blinking back her tears. He wasn’t sorry? He was losing powers he’d possessed for millennia. He would suffer illness, injury, and he would die, his soul like any other, ripe for the claiming.

  And there were many dark forces that would gladly claim him for an eternity of torment and degradation.

  The corners of his mouth curled into a small smile. “I’ve existed a long time, Vivian, but I’ve never lived—until now. I told you once that experience is a great teacher, the only thing truly worth pursuing. This experience is a gift. To live a life filled with limitless uncertainties and limitless possibilities.”

  “But you’ll suffer, and die, and your soul will be sucked into eternal darkness.”

  “That, too, qualifies as an experience,” he replied with a dismissive wave of a hand.

  “How can you be so flippant about it?”

  Heads turned, and the van swerved a bit. God, she’d practically yelled the last part.

  Gutierrez’s gaze bore into hers, clearly giving off a “you okay girl?” vibe. The driver, one of Briggs’ senior team leaders, cursed and told them to keep it down.

  B smirked. “She dodged one multi-vehicle car crash. It’s what got her here in the first place.”

  Darkmore turned his gaze to the other occupants and all commentary ceased. They turned away, giving Vivian and the reaper the illusion of privacy. She didn’t see the look on the reaper’s face, but she’d witnessed his scary-as-hell looks i
n the past. Seemed he wasn’t fully human yet after all.

  When he turned back to Vivian, his gaze was once again serious, but not scary. “I’m aware of the risks and what awaits me in the afterlife should I die in this form. I also have several contingency plans and hiding places in this world and the next. Places that can accommodate you as well.”

  A warm feeling in her chest warred with the coolness of the reaper. His chill had lost some of its potency, another sign of his growing humanity. He’d asked her to come away with him once before. She’d been too frightened and too angry at the world of spirits, and he’d terrified her—with good reason. He’d offered her a place at his side as a reaper, as his equal and, eventually, as his better. A goddess, a queen of the darkest realms of the afterlife, a Persephone to his Hades, only she wouldn’t ascend from the underworld to bring renewed life.

  She hadn’t considered his offer then, had no compunction to go with him willingly, but she’d traveled to his dark realm in order to save her sister, a willing sacrifice. Instead, she helped free a host of the souls trapped in the dark realm from the evil entity who dwelled within it. On her way out, she asked Darkmore to ascend with her.

  He’d said he was already home.

  Here, now, in this moment, he was her equal. Part of him remained tied to the darkness of the underworld and his time as a reaper of souls, but those ties were closer to her own with the afterlife as a living soul broker. He was more human than he’d ever been—partner, lover, man. To join him as a human being, mortal, vital, living?

  “You don’t have to decide right this minute, Vivian, but soon. Think it over, will you?”

  Those were the same words he’d used when he’d first asked her to be his. His smile told her it was deliberate. Free will. He hadn’t forced her then, and he wouldn’t force her now, even though she’d forced mortality upon him.

  Swallowing hard, she reached up with a trembling hand to touch his face. “I will think it over.”

  The van made a sharp right turn. “Heads up, people. We’re almost at the rendezvous point. We go in on foot. Stick close and remember your training. These guardians will be shooting to kill, and they’ll drag your souls into their service after they drain you dry, so don’t get hit. Y’all ready?”

  They all shouted out various forms of “yes” and “hell yeah” and “affirmative” with a couple of whoops thrown in for good measure and bravado. He was right. Death was the least of their worries.

  She hoped the reinforcements she’d called in would be enough.

  The largely defunct Mississippi State Hospital consisted of a sprawling campus with neoclassical-style buildings that appeared more like a college campus than a lunatic asylum, at least by day. As they approached under cover of night, red brick darkened to the color of dry blood in the moonlight as white columns glowed a ghostly white.

  It wasn’t the only glow.

  Energy, spirit light, pulsed in the air around them, through the ground, on the wind rustling through tall grass and tree leaves, and from all around. No wonder the guardians made this place one of their strongholds. It would no doubt be guarded like Fort Knox.

  When she’d said as much, Briggs laughed. “Not their style. Too many of them hanging around would draw unwanted attention. Ask your friend the reaper.”

  Darkmore agreed. The others of his kind would covet this repository of soul energy and the lost souls within, though claiming them could prove problematic. If a reaper took the damaged souls, it would represent a policy violation. The mentally ill, even those who committed violent acts, were not in their right minds and therefore weren’t fair game for reapers harvesting the souls of the wicked.

  By the same token, guardians were breaking the rules by keeping the souls of former patients trapped here, siphoning their vast energy stores. They should have ferried the souls into the afterlife long ago. No moral high ground for the so-called good side. These guardians were definitely no angels.

  The teams split and scoped out the buildings and grounds, scouting for the position of sentinels securing the perimeter and the prison housing the souls, and seeking the highest concentrations of spirit light. They were banking on the theory that their own soul broker energy would blend in enough to be undetectable above the high background levels, but that was a gamble. They needed to locate their targets, strike, and extract the souls as quickly as possible while minimizing collateral damage.

  She fell back, the reaper at her side, and then split off from the group. It wasn’t strictly disobeying orders, since the small copse of trees was within their assigned scouting territory, but she failed to inform Briggs or Chet.

  A fact that did not go unnoticed by the reaper, though he waited until they disappeared into the shadows before speaking.

  “Is this a part of your devious little plan?” he whispered, voice laced with amusement. Ugh, the bastard was having fun.

  Of course he was.

  He may not be able to read mortals as well in his current form, but he had no trouble tasting spirit light from souls. She’d seen him harvest a few souls brought to him by Uphir. Naturally, he couldn’t accompany them to their destination, be it a stint in purgatory or a more…final situation, but he’d feasted on their wickedness and pain.

  She whirled around and said, “First of all, the souls in there? Not up for grabs. Got it?”

  He stood straighter and crossed his arms. “No.”

  “What do you mean ‘no’? You follow the rules, mister.”

  “Precisely,” he said. “Do you think the souls trapped within are all innocent? No, the inmates have been joined by some of their former ‘caregivers’ in a nasty twist of horror. Not that the guardians mind.”

  She mentally kicked herself. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed you’d do the wrong thing.”

  He grinned. “Habit, I’m sure. With your permission,” he said, sardonically, “I will take care of the wicked souls, separating the wheat from the chaff for you and your companions. Now, why are we here?”

  She jumped, startled, sensing the presence of the entities appearing within the tree line. Darkmore would sense them as well. His reaper senses may have dulled, but he hadn’t fully…humanized. His senses seemed to be on par with hers and the other living soul brokers. They were out of time.

  “Lazarus, do you trust me?”

  His expression changed from amusement to stunned anger. “What have you done?”

  “What I had to do to keep us safe and to save the souls. We all have to put aside our differences for the moment and work together.”

  He growled. The man—corporeal guardian spirit in the form of a man—who stepped out of the tree line wasn’t pleased, either, but at least he kept his testosterone-fueled anger under control.

  “Ezekiel,” the reaper said. “How’s the family?”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “Lazarus, that was ugly and uncalled for!” she hissed.

  The reaper was goading Zeke, guardian spirit and her former lover, in a very human jealousy reaction, and it stung. When Vivian let Zeke go, bargaining with Ezra for his soul’s freedom, she’d meant for him to cross over into the next life.

  Zeke hadn’t gone away. Instead, he’d returned to watch over the family he’d left behind from his mortal life, taking much better care of them than when he had actually lived with them. Yes, he’d protected his disabled son from greedy guardian and reaper spirits, but he’d also reunited with his mortal wife, using her new boyfriend as a means of possession. It was all kinds of wrong, but she couldn’t help but feel responsible. And jealous. And angry.

  But if she could put all of those unsavory emotions aside, the stubborn spirits masquerading as men in her life could, too.

  Zeke flashed a wicked grin at the reaper, full of malice and the promise of retaliation. “They’re fine. How’s life this side of the grave? I could arrange for a return trip for you.”

  Sparks flashed from her fingertips. She stood between Zeke and the reaper and grabbe
d both of their wrists, channeling enough light to let them know she meant business.

  Neither of the stubborn jackasses blinked or flinched, but they did end the male posturing standoff and turned their attention to her.

  “We’ve got anywhere between five hundred and a thousand damaged souls trapped on these grounds and being held prisoner by guardian spirits. The raid is in progress, and I’m not sure my warning got through to the prisoners. They’re…”

  “Traumatized,” Jeanne said, the young guardian appearing out of the shadows. “We’ll keep them out of the line of fire.”

  She noticed Jeanne wasn’t alone. Maggie stormed out of the trees behind Jeanne, a glowing ball of fury. Shit. Would the Grand Dame of Guardian spirits zap them all for this crazy covert ops mission? Or would she just zap Vivian for dragging Jeanne into it?

  Jeanne waved a hand at Vivian as if shushing a naughty child. “Vivian, put your hands down. You’ll give away our position. My partner, Marguerite, will provide a distraction to keep the sentinels occupied. Who’s the traitor?”

  A bit chagrinned, Vivian put her sparking hands down and said, “We don’t know. Maria Gutierrez, Barry Johnson, and I, we’ve screened everyone in Briggs’ rebel team. They’re all devoted to the mission if not Briggs himself.”

  To her credit, Jeanne didn’t express any disappointment or alarm. “I imagine we’ll root out the traitor with this operation. Now Zeke, Marguerite, and I will cover you and Darkmore while you take care of the lost souls. Vivian, gather as many of the righteous and damaged souls as you can and hide them. If not protect them.”

  “Reaper.” Marguerite’s voice was power held on a tight leash. “You will do what is necessary for the wicked souls of those who once tormented the lost and lonely?”

  Darkmore smiled and bowed. “With pleasure, my lady flower.”

  Marguerite raised her hands to send a blast at Darkmore. Vivian intercepted, taking the blow and, to her surprise, absorbing the energy behind it. Channeling all of the bravado she could muster, Vivian dusted off her shirt, stood tall, and grinned. “Thanks. I needed that. Lazarus?”