by Devon Monk
I grabbed his wrist, intending to point the blade at Lavius.
Brown shivered, but held very still. My hand had sunk all the way through his hand and sort of aligned with it, like I was pulling on a well-fitting, overly warm and slightly squishy glove.
Ew.
“Show me,” he demanded.
Those two words were more than a demand, they were a path, an invitation, a compulsion.
I stepped forward, stepped into Brown.
A thousand sensations swamped me: a body, warm and beating around me, vision so sharp I could see the motes of dust in the sunlight coming in from the window, could smell each distinct kind of blood mixing in the air, could hear…
…everything. The trees hummed of wind and sun and deep, dark soil, the seagulls sang of food and sand and shells to crack, even this old house grumbled about the loose-fitted window pane and missing shingles.
No wonder elves—well, Brown—made good thieves. The whole world was yelling and whispering and pouring out all its secrets.
I could hear the knife too, a hiss of death, death, death, steady as a drip of acid.
“Stab Lavius. This will slow him down. Use the knife. Use the knife.”
I lifted my hand, hoping he might feel it.
His hand lifted. He nodded. “Show me.”
I didn’t need to be asked twice. I ran, Brown’s feet rising and falling as if this were my own body. His breath was caught, ragged and weird in his chest. This wasn’t comfortable for him, might even be painful.
I hesitated.
“Do it,” he breathed.
And so I did. I rushed up behind Lavius—silent as only an elf can be, a part of the world around me and leaving no trace behind as only an elf can be, and maybe most importantly, fast as only an elf can be—and plunged the knife deep between Lavius’s ribs, angling the stroke upward toward lungs and heart.
Lavius jerked, yelled.
The impact of that sound of unholy pain threw me out of Brown’s body, shuddering and raw, desperate for escape.
Brown groaned and dropped the knife like it was on fire, then bolted, stumbling over his feet, trying to get out of the blast zone of the ancient horror, the vile thing that Lavius was made of.
Rossi swung, his bloody fist gripping the clay knife again, his face drenched in thick black blood, one eye gone blind as he bared his fangs and shouted old words, old promises, old curses, old, dark magic.
The clay knife angled down, fast, too fast for mortal eyes to track, and somehow achingly slow.
The blade buried to the hilt, and still he thrust it deeper, fueled by his rage, into Lavius’s throat.
Lavius threw out both arms and shook, shook, his body thrashing while speared in place as if a lightning rod had just skewered him from skull to sole.
The air filled with screeching, howling, darkness.
And then Death strolled into the room.
Chapter 20
“Than,” I said. “Help. Please, help.”
His eyes flicked to me and they were endless, deep, and oddly, not unkind. It was Than, the god-playing-mortal in my little town-playing-normal. But it was more. It was Death.
His god power shifted and flowed around him like a cape of smoke and fire, flickers of light falling like ashes and snow stirred by the heartbeat of power.
“Every living thing ends,” he said, a voice of forever, a voice of time echoing, song, shadows, and light.
No one was moving in the room; it was as if time had broken, the world stalled, the universe halted on its eternal pivot.
Only Lavius was moving, his mouth opening and closing around a silent scream, his eyes wide with terror.
I saw my friend, Than, the god of death, resplendent in his cloak of power.
Lavius saw his end.
“Death is patient,” Than said almost softly. “But death always, always wins.”
Than lifted one hand and that cloak of power unrolled from around him, wings of stars, of darkness, of something so good, it made me ache with wanting to touch it.
Wings that wrapped around Lavius, folded and cradled and covered and smothered until there was no more movement in Lavius’s body, no more pleas on his lips, no more light in his eyes.
He fell, just as slowly as I had, landing hard and solid on the floor.
Death turned his gaze to Rossi, who stood, covered in blood—his own and his brother’s—his expression anger, sorrow, hatred.
“Travail,” Death whispered.
Rossi turned toward Death, met his gaze. Waited for his judgment.
“Beg me to spare you,” Death said, and there was no longer anything friendly or human in his tone.
“Bring her back to us.” It was whispered, I thought, in a language I did not know, but still understood. “I will pay her passage.” Rossi fell to his knees, but did not look away from death, did not bow his head.
“Perhaps,” Death said, “it has already been paid.”
“No,” another voice rang out.
I spun. Ryder crossed the room to stand before Death. He looked taller, wider, his body outlined in a hard yellow light. But it was his eyes that frightened me. That might be Ryder’s body, but it was not Ryder looking out of that gaze.
That was Mithra, the god who owned him, the god who was using him as his vessel. The god who did not like any of us Reeds enforcing the rules and laws of the town.
The god who would be happier if I were dead.
“You have no power here, Mithra,” Death said.
“My power resides in all laws of the universe,” Mithra said, “Even in the laws of death.” It was Ryder’s voice, but colder, harder.
“You do not rule over me,” Death intoned. “I am eternity.”
“I rule over the contract Reed blood has made with the gods of Ordinary. Delaney’s death must be final. The bridge is no more. The Reed guardians have failed to uphold their vows to the gods within its borders. They must relinquish their station to the standing warden. Ordinary will follow my rule. As it is written. As it should have always been.”
Was that true? Was our status as guardians, my status as a bridge that allowed god powers to be set down when gods vacationed in Ordinary so tenuous? Was there nothing more that held us tight to this land?
“You are within Ordinary, Thanatos,” Mithra said. “You must bide these laws.”
Death’s smile was frightening, cold, cruel. “Death is everywhere. Death is all. Beginning and ending. And within Ordinary’s boundries, all gods can die.”
He lifted one hand, his fingers long pale bones and claws.
Ryder stiffened as if a hook had sunk into his chest. He shuddered, convulsed, the light in his eyes fading.
“No!” I yelled. I threw myself between Mithra and Death. “Don’t kill him. Don’t kill Ryder. Please, Than. Please.”
It took a breath, two, before Death relaxed his hand. There was blood at the corner of Ryder’s mouth, but he didn’t seem to notice it.
“Enough,” Bathin said, his voice low, thick, and hot. “Delaney only dies and reliquishes Ordinary’s guardianship if I say she dies. I hold her living soul, as has been agreed, a favor to Death.”
I didn’t look away from Death even though Bathin’s words tumbled around me in confusion. He had my soul because of Death? A deal they had made?
“Lies,” Mithra hissed.
Bathin strode forward, his true form clear to me in my ghostly state. He was huge, dark, fire and ash, powerful. But was he powerful enough to take down a god?
“Can you not see the contract agreed upon between she and I, Mithra? Has your power so dulled? Challenge my hold on her, god. It will amuse me.”
Really? Was I going to have to stop a demon and god fight to keep Ryder safe now too?
“Not helping,” I said to Bathin.
But Ryder’s head snapped up, realization twisting his face with an ugly hatred I had never seen before.
“You are nothing!” he screamed at Bathin.
“I am
demon.” His nostrils flared and lightning flickered in his smokey eyes. “And my contracts, are rock-fucking-solid.”
And there, next to Bathin, appeared my father. Hope from ashes. He wasn’t as clear as he had been when I’d seen him trapped in the stone with Bathin, but there was no mistaking his smile.
“As is the law of Ordinary,” Bathin went on unrelentingly, “when one bridge dies, another of the Reed family will rise and take their place. As is the agreement made with the previous bridge of Ordinary and Death himself,” Bathin said, “Robert’s soul has been here, within the borders of this town, housed within me. I am alive. And therefore Robert is very much alive. He can take Ordinary upon himself again, through me as his conduit, or he can give it to his daughter, Delaney when she returns to her body. You, Mithra, have always been too late to stake your claim to this land.”
I blinked hard. Shook my head at my dad. I thought he’d died. When I’d made that deal with Bathin, I thought my father’s soul had gone onto death.
Not so, my child, Death whispered in my mind. It was not his time. But now…yes, soon.
Mithra glared at the demon, at my father, at me. Then finally, at Death. “You allowed this?”
“A favor owed to a friend of mine.”
He meant my dad, not the demon. I was sure of it.
“I could destroy this land,” Mithra said.
“You would have to destroy the original gods who created it first,” Death said. “One stands before you.”
Mithra scowled. Then his face, well, Ryder’s face, cleared. He nodded once.
“Checkmate, Thanatos,” he said. “I concede this match to you.”
Death is patient. And Death always wins.
The light in Ryder’s eyes dimmed to the normal, beautiful hazel I knew and loved. He looked confused, pale. He couldn’t see me. I wasn’t even sure if he could see the room around him as he lowered himself to the ground, exhausted.
“Dad?” I asked, moving toward my father.
“Ah-ah. No.” Bathin’s words stopped me. “There is no more time.”
Dad mouthed something, and I could hear it like a sigh on the wind, “I love you.”
Death held his hand out. Dad’s eyes were so bright. His smile became a grin as he accepted Death’s hand. His soft laughter filled the air as he became a single spark of light in the swirling cape full of lights that surrounded Death.
“Oh,” I said, because it was the only sound I could make. He was gone. This time, I knew, he was truely gone.
“Reed Daughter,” Death said. “I think you’ve had quite enough of resting here. It is time for you to return to your heart.”
My heart. Ryder. Myra. Jean. Ordinary, and all the people within it.
“Just so,” Death agreed.
The world hitched, a giant machine catching on the gear that ground it forward through the universe.
And then everything began again.
“Wait,” I said.
My words echoed back to me, time crashed on and on, seconds, minutes, all too fast, all too loud, and I inhaled a ragged breath.
Pain. So much pain.
“Damn it, Delaney,” Myra sobbed. “Keep breathing. I’m going to kill you, so keep breathing.”
There were sirens, voices, hands. Too many smells, colors, sensations. I tried to reach for them all, hold them all, cling tight to them all, because I knew it was life, this messy mix of pain and hope and joy and heat and tears.
I saw, briefly, Myra’s face, streaked with tears, splotchy cheeks against paper-pale skin, eyes red and glassy. “You are such an idiot. Keep breathing. Just keep breathing.” She tried to smile and it made it all worse. “Everything’s going to be okay.
~~~
Someone was watching me.
I opened my eyes, the unfamiliar ceiling and low light of the hospital room blurring for a few breaths while I blinked and blinked. My chest felt heavy, so I didn’t even try to take deep breaths.
I did move my hand a little. Everything hurt in that distant way that let me know I had a wall of painkillers between me and my injuries. The sterile smell of oxygen explained the tube at my nose.
Okay. I was hurt. How badly?
Memories fell out of my head in one big clump. The gun, Lavius, Rossi, Bathin, Ryder, Brown, my sisters, Dad and Mithra and Death.
Lavius was dead. I’d seen him burn in Death’s embrace. I tried to hold onto that as a crawling panic slapped hands all over my skin as if trying to make sure I was awake.
Had I been shot?
Had I been shot again?
I blinked some more, trying to focus on the room, and not my racing thoughts. Thoughts that felt an awful lot like fear.
I could feel again? Was I was alive? What exactly had happened?
“Easy, Delaney, you’re okay.”
Myra’s voice, a little flat and tired, but there, right there. Then I felt her hand catch my hand and squeeze, saw her stand up and lean over me and wait until I could focus on her face.
“Hey,” I breathed.
“They have you on some heavy drugs, so it’s okay if you feel tired and weird. You were shot, but the bullet disintegrated. It wasn’t made of metal.”
Not sure I should be excited about that. “What was it made of?”
“Dirt and blood.”
I felt the nauseating panic stick fingers down my throat.
“They’ve cleaned out everything they can. You’re on some heavy antibiotics, and you ran a fever for a while.”
The details—common, normal—helped me keep my footing as panic sluiced around me. “How long?”
“A week.” She smiled at whatever look crossed my face. “Oh, you’re going to pay for this, don’t worry. I’m furious at you, but right now I’m just happy you’re alive.” She shook her head. “You’re officially suspended from work for a month.”
“What? You can’t—”
“I can, and just did. You need to take some time and work on healing. And maybe…maybe you should talk to someone, figure out how you can guarantee you’re not going to make these kinds of decisions under pressure again.”
“You would have done the same thing.” Panic was getting overridden by my indignation.
“No, Delaney. I would not have. I would have gone to you. We would have made a plan, and I would have followed that plan.”
She waited for me to argue, even though she knew I wouldn’t.
“I was trying to keep everyone safe,” I started, my voice more unsteady than I’d like. “Ben was gone, Jame…he was in so much pain…and Dad…what was I supposed to do? This is my home. They’re my family.”
Myra reached up and silently wiped the tears off my face, then tucked a tissue in my hand. “I know,” she said, as she gently placed a kiss on my forehead. “I know, honey. You can sleep now. It’s going to be okay. You’re going to be okay.”
I thought maybe she said something else, but time snapped, and when I opened my eyes, the room was much brighter than it had been.
“Hey, beautiful.” Ryder.
I smiled and he smiled back. He leaned over me, his face close to mine, his hand coming up to cup the side of my face, thumb stroking my cheek. “It’s good to see you awake.”
I could feel the warmth of him, smell the clean scent of sawdust and sunlight that clung to his clothes, and the spicy undertone that was all him. There was nothing left of Mithra in him now.
“I’m sorry,” I started.
“Shhh.” He leaned down, hand still holding my face, and tilted his mouth to mine, kissing me softly. My lips were chapped, but that didn’t seem to bother him.
“You’re okay. We’re okay. Your sister’s a little pissed off, but me and you? We got this.”
I swallowed back the tears that threatened to fall. Why was I always crying? Maybe not having my emotions for so long made a kind of backlog and now I was doomed to over-feel everything.
Or maybe I’d been shot, died, and had woken up here, in my town, with my family, and the
man I loved.
“You’re not mad?” I asked.
“I didn’t say that.” The slash of smile he gave me was teasing. “But unlike your sister, I prefer a fair fight. I’ll wait until you’re on your feet before I lower the hammer.”
I huffed a laugh and that made him smile more. “Do you remember? Mithra?”
He frowned. “Back at the house? I called on him. I think. Asked him to help. I was desperate. I think I blacked out.”
“Oh,” I said. I wasn’t sure how he was going to take being controlled by a god. Maybe it was a discussion that could wait until after I could think straight.
“There we go. Think you’d like to sit up a little? Maybe try our vast array of gourmet ice chips?”
His thumb was still stroking my cheek gently, his eyes holding my gaze, filled with warmth and love and comfort.
“You know I like to live dangerously.”
That tightened the edges of his eyes, but only for a moment.
“Too soon, baby. But yeah, you’ve always been a troublemaker. I don’t think one little fight with a vampire is going to change that. I wouldn’t want it to.”
“But?” I said, because I could hear it in his voice.
He turned away to fiddle with the buttons on my bed, and I missed his touch immediately.
“But we’re going to set some rules, agree on some boundaries for how we all pitch in to look after this town and all the people in it.”
“We already have rules.”
“You have rules, which you ignore when it suits you. I’m thinking I’m a guy who’d like things written down with signatures signed nice and neat on the dotted line.”
“I thought you said that wasn’t who you were.” The bed lifted, and even though I was still on pain meds, I wasn’t too groggy, or too sore to enjoy the change of position. I didn’t know how long it’d been since Myra had been here watching me, but she wasn’t in the room now. Right now, it was just me and Ryder.
“I’m exploring the possibility that my new position as warden of this town might have its upsides.”
Ugh. That was exactly what none of us needed. Another person, especially one doing the bidding of a meddling god, all up in our supernatural business.
“I see you are thrilled with the idea.”