“I promise.”
“It’s downstairs.” Sierra headed out of the bathroom. “By the way, I burned your clothes.”
“You did what?”
“Not all of them. Just the sewer ones.” She shook her head, platinum hair falling over her red tank. “It was for the best.”
“I’ll take your word for it.” The past day was a blur—almost like a bad dream.
But the pit in my stomach told me that Lucille’s anger was very real.
And so was Aldric’s attempt to kill Cross.
They both had to go.
Tonight.
I wrung the cold water out of my hair, then brushed it into some semblance of order. A fresh set of clothes—not mine, judging from the brand names—hung on the back of the door.
From Sierra’s truck, no doubt.
I slipped into the jeans and wriggled into the dangerously low cut shirt that had Sierra written all over it.
Not quite me, but it would do.
On my way downstairs, I doublechecked the safe, finding all the souls still accounted for. After reinstating the illusion magic that cloaked it from prying eyes, I headed down to the first floor.
Fenrir’s headless corpse still lay stinking in the middle of the room.
Sierra, sitting on the kitchen island with Khan in her lap, called, “The phone’s in here.”
I stepped around the pools of blood and the wolf’s severed head on the way to kitchen.
When I had her phone firmly in my hand, I said, “After I make this call, I want you two to get out of here.”
“I told you, E, I’m not leaving you.”
“This whole thing might go sideways,” I said. “If it fails, then at least one of us might be able to pick up the pieces and find a way to get rid of these assholes.”
It was a lie.
I just wanted my sister to be safe.
She saw right through it.
The cat growled, wrinkling his striped nose. “Hopefully I will be taken to better accommodations then this prison.”
“You can stay with Sierra,” I said. “If Lucille doesn’t know where she lives.”
I waited for an answer to that implied question.
“My house should be safe. Too bad we’re not going”
The cat hissed with displeasure. “You would rather die with this stupid human?”
Sierra stroked his ears. “This stupid human is my sister.”
Khan purred in delight. Like everything and everyone on this planet, he loved Sierra.
“You two can hide,” I said, looking between them. “And I’ll take care of this mess.”
“You brought me into this life,” Sierra said. Her cheeks were rosy. I picked up the mug sitting next to her and sniffed it.
Whiskey.
She’d been hard at work while I was asleep.
Trying to calm nerves, probably.
“And that was a mistake.” If I’d never let her tag along on my grifts after I’d dropped out, she wouldn’t have been in that Bourbon Street alley.
Wouldn’t have died at Moreland’s hand next to me.
Wouldn’t have been reborn as a Reaper, just like me.
“It wasn’t a mistake, E. You don’t have to apologize for anything.”
“But…”
“I made my decision back in the truck. There’s no way I’m leaving.”
Before I could drag her out of the house—kicking and screaming, if necessary—the villa shook.
Sierra tumbled off the island, bringing Khan with her.
This was no ordinary gust of wind.
This was a goddess’s storm.
27
“Someone came a little early, E.” Sierra had to shout to be heard over the maelstrom. The villa’s foundations creaked and groaned, its supports straining under the heavy wind load.
In the howling wind, Lucille yelled, “You believed you could run from me? Me? Master of the winds and rain?”
Thunder exploded outside.
The goddess of rain wanted blood.
It dawned on me that she didn’t even know we’d killed Fenrir yet.
When she discovered that little fact, Sierra and I would have to pray for quick deaths.
The shaking intensified, and I dropped to one knee. Khan clawed his way across the kitchen floor, his sharp claws clinging to the wood like ice picks on a cliff face. His ears were plastered flat against his head.
He huddled against Sierra for protection, his little legs shaking.
“You’re hurting Fenrir,” I screamed back into the storm as I dragged myself into the living room. “He won’t survive the storm.”
A lightning bolt crackled outside the living room’s broken window, lighting up the dark beach. Lucille’s shadowy figure, dirty and bloody, stood in the black sand, arms raised to the sky. “His fate is sealed without the medicine, Reaper.”
“I have it,” I yelled back. “I gave it to him. He’s getting better.”
“Lies!” The roof flew from the villa’s walls, revealing an endless, angry sky. Moss-dappled tiles scattered across the beach like dust. The bulk of the broken roof plunged into the ocean with a titanic crash.
The second floor bannister splintered, almost clipping me in the head head as it spiraled out the broken bay window.
There was only one play.
I fought the storm, crawling back into the kitchen to rejoin Sierra.
My sister gripped her pistol tightly against her chest.
“What’s the plan, E?”
“The truth will set you free, right,” I replied with a grim smile.
“That’s not a—”
“Out the back,” I pointed toward the windows ringing the wall above the sink. “Leave and take the cat.”
“I’m not leaving you.”
“You have no choice.” I winked, the rain so heavy now that it streaked my vision. “Because if we both die, then there will be no one to wield the Sword of Damocles.”
“No—”
“Lucille will chase us to the edges of the shores as long as she’s alive.”
Sierra’s knuckles turned white around the pistol’s grip. “There has to be another way.”
“There is.” I clasped my fingers around her neck and leaned in close. Teeth clenched, I growled, “You take the souls and get the hell out of here.”
In that moment where nothing was said, we came to an understanding.
Dying in futility for honor wouldn’t serve the greater good.
It would just fuck the other hundred thousand people who called this island home. They needed someone to eliminate the vampire and the rain goddess.
They just didn’t know it—yet.
I scurried across the quaking living room, arms held out like I was running across a balance beam. Getting up the stairs was a bit of a trial, but I managed to clamber into the guest room.
I opened the safe, shoved the souls in my pockets—six of them, plus the two I already had stashed—and then stumbled my way back to the kitchen.
I dumped them all in Sierra’s lap.
Sierra gathered the souls and then handed me her phone. “You find me. Promise.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Then lie.”
I said, “I promise.”
Sierra gave me a hug. Then she grabbed Khan by the scruff of his neck and scrambled to the windows. Glass shattered. She grunted as she pushed herself over the counter and outside.
Then she was gone.
My silver tongue had served me well: my sister was fleeing to safety.
And I was left to face the rain goddess alone.
28
I waited for a minute in the kitchen, listening to the whipping rain for her footsteps.
Sierra was long gone. My muscles relaxed, despite my impending doom.
They were safe—for now.
But the growling thunder reminded me that, with Lucille alive, that would be a temporary fate.
Lucille, her voice now the wind its
elf, yelled, “Have you no last words? Should you not beg forgiveness for your sins?”
I fought the storm to get back into the living room. “Not to you.”
“Then you will beg to the demons in the Elysian Fields.” A searing bolt of lightning crackled down, striking the back wall. Sparks showered the floor. Small fires crackled in the darkness.
“Tell me,” I said, stalling for time to ensure that Sierra could get away, “did you feel anything?”
“I do not understand your question.”
The aroma of burning bamboo wafted through the thick rain. “I always thought you had a sixth sense. When it came to this island.”
A bitter laugh rode on the wind. “I answered your prayer only because I was drinking with the monkeys in the jungle.”
“Then you don’t know.”
“I know you are a habitual liar who cannot be trusted.”
“Guilty as charged.” With water-slicked fingers, I tapped out a message on the borrowed phone.
I have a gift at my house. For you personally.
To Aldric.
If I told him it was Lucille, he’d bring an army.
This way, I hoped he would come alone.
“Giving up so soon, Reaper? I am disappointed.”
“Don’t worry.” The fires behind me fought the rain for control of the roofless living room. Smoke swirled in the dark blue haze, giving the scene a dream-like quality. “I don’t die that easy.”
“Then perhaps it is time for a special performance.”
I leaned out the broken window to see what she might have in mind.
When I tried to step back, my foot froze in time. My throat constricted.
Forcing each word out, I replied, “This trick again.”
But the bravado was empty.
Lucille trotted up the beach, her braid silhouetted by lightning bolts. “What you feel, Reaper, is the agony of time collapsing solely around you. A breach in the natural order the body cannot comprehend.”
“Magical.” Lucille would choose a special ability that maximized her victim’s agony. Even moving my eyes took forty times as long as normal, which forced me to stare at the goddess stalking forward.
Stare at my imminent demise.
“I reserve its use for the most troublesome cases. Yourself. Dante. That awful sorceress.”
The edges of my vision darkened.
My ribs felt as though they would shatter like the villa’s cracking joists.
Using every ounce of energy—and hatred for the goddess—I drew a rasping breath through my nose. Then I screamed into the thunder claps and rain, so loud that my throat turned raw, “I killed your fucking wolf, Lucille.”
Everything went silent.
The rain stopped.
The wind died.
Only the crackle of flame remained.
And my frozen body lurched forward, suddenly unbound by Lucille’s temporal vice.
I stumbled to my knees in front of the window, gasping for breath. The world spun, even as everything sat deathly still.
Lucille quivered on the beach with inexpressible rage and remorse. “You would not dare.”
I pushed my knuckles against the floor to stand up. Feeling dizzy from the lingering effects of Lucille’s spell, it took me a minute to stagger to the couch.
With a monumental effort, I dragged Fenrir’s headless corpse to the edge of the broken windowsill.
I pushed him over the edge, into the sand below.
“You went after the wrong girl.” I raised my bloody hands to show it wasn’t a bluff. “Should’ve gone for Aldric instead.”
“No!” A booming thunderclap louder than any gunshot accompanied the word.
Wind rustled my hair, like a predator sniffing its prey. I let my gaze fall on the horizon.
Would Aldric show up before I died?
Unlikely.
Fire began to consume the living room, the flames lapping at the edge of the couch. Without the rain, the house would be devoured shortly.
“I will tear you limb from limb for this, Reaper.”
I played the final card from my deck. “Kill me, and Fenrir’s soul is lost forever.”
A quiet, conciliatory voice answered me. “What do you desire?”
That was more like it. I slicked rain water off my face and considered what I needed most.
But nothing other than her death would suffice.
Without that, I’d never be free.
I said, “Tell me who has ruled the island in your stead.”
“That is all you wish for? And his soul will be returned?”
“One of the things,” I said.
“This is my punishment.” A weak, almost sad clap of thunder echoed on the distant horizon. “No other god will replace me. But…”
“But what?” I leaned against the wall to catch my breath. How quickly the tables turned.
One minute, my house was coming down around me.
The next, I had leverage over a goddess who wished to spare her werewolf companion a truly eternal death.
And, in another minute, the tables would turn in her favor again, as the house yielded to the onslaught of the flames.
“I have heard rumblings.”
I leaned out the window and called, “That’s not good enough to save his soul.”
“Loki has always envied my station here. Believes it to be a paradise.” Her melodious voice turned sour. “Naturally he has never met you nor the vampire.”
“I’m flattered.” The thickening smoke made my eyes tear. “But still not good enough.”
“And Ares has made it his duty to stop him.”
“The gods of chaos and war,” I said. “Battling it out.”
That confirmed Tamara’s intel. But it added a new twist: the god of chaos would likely try to take Lucille’s place.
That didn’t strike me as a significant improvement over the status quo.
“That is all I know, Reaper.”
Heat lapped against my skin, causing sweat to trickle down my neck. By now, the flames had cut off a possible retreat through the kitchen.
The only way out was through the window.
I leapt out the window, landing twelve feet below next to Fenrir’s headless corpse. Smoke drifted through the storm-stained sky, lending an apocalyptic feel to the normally scenic beach.
Lucille’s whiskey-soaked soul called to me plaintively, so loudly that I could pinpoint her around the marble staircase. I ventured around the storm-cracked stone.
We stared at one another, saying nothing.
Finally, the goddess said, “Fenrir is the only loyal friend I have ever known.”
The roar of ATVs sliced through the silent night, and we both turned toward the beach.
Aldric had arrived.
Not alone, judging by the number of headlights.
“You have tricked me.” Lucille unleashed a bitter laugh as the sand swirled at my feet in a small cyclone. “A liar to the very end.”
“I was never going to give you the wolf’s soul.”
“But I had to try.” Tears streamed down her cheeks, cascading all the way to her naked chest. “I had to try.”
She dropped to her knees, head tilted up at me.
I could see now that the goddess, powerful as she was, had been overtaxed by today’s itinerary. The preceding two months spent on the run had sapped her strength. And between the first encounter with the sorceress and this stormy display, she had finally exhausted her remaining energy reserves.
The phalanx of ATVs—easily a dozen of them—roared closer.
Genuine fear and regret flashed across her face—that of a broken creature unable to defend itself. “The vampire is coming for me.”
“Yes.” I bluffed, unable to taste Aldric’s soul in the nighttime. I reached into my jeans for the Reaper’s Switch. “But you could join the wolf in eternal darkness to spare his wrath.”
The goddess recoiled, knocking me backward with a gust of wind. “Ne
ver, Reaper.”
“You saw what the Scent of Fire did to Fenrir and your people. What fate do you think Aldric has planned for you?”
The dust stopped swirling at my ankles, and her shoulders slumped. Lucille rose and limped wearily to the edge of the steps before sliding down against the cracked marble.
“To think,” Lucille said, “I have been outwitted by a mortal.”
“Shouldn’t have answered my prayers.”
The engines cut off up the beach as ruthless-sounding men shouted orders into the night.
“Perhaps so.” Tears still trickled from her eyelids. Broken by Fenrir’s death, exhausted by months on the run, she had no fight left. “But then I would have never met you, Reaper.”
“Aw, you don’t mean that.”
Rifles cocked, boots pounding through the soft sand.
“I should kill you,” Lucille said. “But then the vampire would win.”
“Interesting perspective.”
I heard my name.
Shouts to get out of the way, lie down on the sand.
“It is Aldric who wears Fenrir’s blood on his hands. You only did my friend a mercy.”
“Well, it wasn’t me who fired the shot.” I offered her a joyless grin. “Trials and all.”
“Of course.” A lightning bolt sizzled through the sky, and I heard a man scream as his bones snapped. Lucille’s eyes closed. “I release you from your trials, Reaper.”
A magical pulse threaded through my veins as she uttered the words. I felt a lightness sweep over my being, like my problems had been washed away with the rain.
Then Lucille said the fateful words. “Now do it.”
I flicked the blade out.
The men screamed for me to stop.
She snatched the knife from my hand.
Then she plunged the Reaper’s Switch straight into her own chest.
29
Tired, and still feeling the lingering effects of Lucille’s magic—both good and bad—it’d be impossible to say how long it was before Aldric’s men yanked me away from the dead goddess.
I tumbled into the black sand, clutching her ruinous soul in my bloody fingers.
It took me a moment to understand why Lucille had taken the knife.
Soul Bite Page 10