Wrong Side of Hell (The DeathSpeaker Codex Book 1)

by Sonya Bateman

  “All that pertains to you, save this,” he said. “In exchanging you for the Valentine infant, I made you a changeling. A child of the forgotten. We must find your mother’s remains, because only contact with a true parent can restore you to your heritage and unlock your potential as a Fae.”

  I wasn’t sure I wanted my potential unlocked. “A true parent,” I said. “What about your father? Uh…well, I guess he’s my father too.”

  Taeral’s features hardened. “Daoin is dead. And nothing remains of him.”

  The cold rage in his voice made me shiver. I had to assume the guy wouldn’t have won any World’s Best Dad awards. “Okay, then,” I said carefully. “Much as I want my—er, heritage restored, we have a more immediate problem. We have to rescue Sadie.”

  “From Milus Dei?” He let out a withering blast of laughter. “There is no rescue from them. She’s lost to us now.”

  “What, you’re just going to give up on her? Leave her for dead?”

  “Yes. And so are you.”

  “The hell I am, you cowardly bastard.”

  His eyes narrowed. “What did you call me?”

  “You heard me.” I glared right back at him. “Look, I get it. Sadie told me how long you were there, and I can see they didn’t leave you intact. I’m sure they make the Valentines look like a picnic in the park,” I said. “But she gave herself up to them so I could escape, and I’m not going to abandon her! With or without your help, I’m getting her the hell out of there.”

  He growled something in that other language. “You won’t,” he said. “Not as you are now. They’ll take you before you so much as sight the walls of their prison.” He stepped toward me, lips curled in a sneer. “Even with all you know of pain, what they’ll do to you will have you begging for such a simple thing as torture.”

  I refused to look away. “I’ll take my chances.”

  “Stubborn child! You’re as big a fool as her.” He struggled visibly to calm down, and let out a long, slow breath. “All right,” he said. “You’ve no chance like this. But you may at least survive, if you reach your potential before you set off on this madness.”

  “Great. Except I don’t know where the body is, and obviously, you don’t either,” I said. “It might take days to find it. I’m not thrilled with letting Sadie get tortured for days while I chase down my heritage.”

  He blanched and looked away. “Sadie is strong,” he said in roughened tones. “She’ll not be broken easily.”

  Well. At least he cared about her a little. “Fine,” I said. “I’ve got a friend looking into it, so maybe we’ll have a lead soon. But I have to get back to ground level. You guys have lousy signal down here.”

  “What friend?”

  “He’s a detective. Don’t worry, he doesn’t know anything about Others.”

  Taeral made a face like he’d just swallowed a mouthful of roadkill. “Very well,” he said. “I suppose I’ll have to go to the surface with you.” He managed to make the surface sound like a huge, steaming pile of raw sewage.

  This was not going to end well.

  CHAPTER 20

  My new brother didn’t exactly blend in.

  Taeral had added a black shirt, black boots, and a full-length black duster to his pants-only wardrobe. With his rock-star hair, disgusted snarl, and metal arm—and the fact that he was almost seven feet tall—he looked straight out of Texas Chainsaw Massacre.

  We managed to get to the van after leaving the subway at street level, so I could make sure there weren’t any cops waiting around in the parking garage. I probably should’ve been worried about the lack of police presence. But right now I just wanted to be home, such as it was. The van was the closest thing I had.

  I dialed Abe while Taeral situated himself in the passenger seat. “Just a sec,” I told him. “Gotta check on something.”

  He grunted. He hadn’t said a word since we left the tunnels, and he almost looked sick. Like the surface really was a pile of raw sewage to him.

  Abe answered with, “Tell me this isn’t your one phone call.”

  “I’m fine. Laying low,” I told him. Though that wasn’t going to be easy, considering my present company. “Hate to rush you, but did you find anything on that body?”

  “Yes and no,” he said. “There was a body found in the North Woods, under a pine tree like you described. Female, mid-thirties, no identification. This was twenty years ago, mind you.” He paused. “Any chance you want to tell me how the hell you knew it was there? I’d suspect you of murder, but you would’ve been maybe five, six years old when they found it.”

  “You really don’t want to know. But I promise I’ll tell you later,” I said.

  “Maybe I don’t want you to.” I could almost hear him shaking his head. “Anyway, there’s a paper trail, and I put a request into the database to follow it. Just waiting on that. But I’ll tell you now, there’s a good chance you’ll never actually locate this body.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because it’s probably buried on Hart Island.”

  Great. I knew all about Hart Island—the potter’s field of New York City, the final resting place of the poor, indigent, unclaimed and forgotten. Over a million people were buried there now, the vast majority of them in unmarked mass graves dug by Rikers Island inmates. “All right,” I said heavily. “Well, let me know either way, soon as you can. Thanks, Abe.”

  “Yeah. Stay out of trouble, kid.”

  “Always.”

  I hung up and looked at Taeral. “Well, that’s it,” I said. “We’re screwed.”

  He roused himself enough to look disgusted again. “Can your friend not help?”

  “Actually, he can. He just helped me find out we’re screwed.” I told him about the police finding the body, and about Hart Island. “If she’s there, we’ll never find her,” I said.

  “And if she’s not?”

  “The chances of that are slim to hell freezing over.”

  “We must find her.”

  “Yeah, I got that part,” I said. “Is there anything you can do? A finding-dead-people spell or something?”

  He sneered. “If I could, I’d have done so already.”

  “Fine.” I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel. There wasn’t much else to do until Abe called back, but I didn’t want to sit here and wait for the cops to return to the scene of the crime—the one they’d committed. “Okay, look,” I said. “I don’t know about you, but I could use some food. I’m starving.” Saying that reminded me of Sadie, and I winced inwardly for what she must be going through right now. “How about some dinner? We can hit a restaurant. My treat.”

  “Will there be humans in the restaurant?” he said.

  “Uh, yeah. This is New York. Eight million humans and counting,” I said. “They’re kind of hard to avoid.”

  “Yes.” Taeral turned to stare out the side window. “Which is precisely why I don’t come to the surface.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “How long have you been down there, anyway?”

  “Twenty-six years.”

  Christ. He’d gone to the tunnels after the Great Baby Swap and never come back up. “What’s the deal with you and humans?” I said.

  “If we’re going to this restaurant, then go.”

  I figured now was not the time to argue. So I went.

  The Silver Loon was a hole-in-the-wall dive, but the food was decent and the place was dark. Maybe Taeral would snap out of his human-hating funk if he didn’t have to look at any.

  At least he wouldn’t have to worry about interacting with people much. The waitress who took our orders practically threw them across the room when they came out, rather than go near the table again.

  In fact, every person he’d been near since we left the tunnels had parted from him like rabbits running from a wolf.

  We both had the house special—BLT burgers and thick-cut seasoned fries, served on plates that were probably at least rinsed with something wet since the last orde
r. I snagged a fry and popped it in my mouth, while Taeral glared at his food like it’d just smacked him and called him ugly. “What’s wrong?” I said. “Don’t you eat?”

  “If I must.”

  “Guess you’re more the type to drink your dinner.”

  His upper lip twitched. He dropped his gaze to the plate, picked up a fry and bit it in half. It took him a while to swallow. “How appealing,” he said dryly. “Burnt grease, filled with paste.”

  “Yeah, that describes just about every American food,” I said. “This is good for you, though. Used to be potatoes.”

  He pointed to the burger. “And what did that used to be?”

  “Cow and pig.”

  “Disgusting,” he muttered. “I’d rather eat live beetles.”

  I smirked. “They don’t serve those here. But if you really want some, we can hit the Fifth Street Market.”

  “Humans eat insects, too?”

  “Just the fancy ones.” I shrugged and took a bite of the burger, then washed it down with unspecified brown soda. The drinks only came in colors here. “While we’re waiting,” I said. “You want to tell me about this DeathSpeaker stuff?”

  “No. But I suppose I must.” He sipped at his water and grimaced his way through another fry. “Though I’m not convinced you are the DeathSpeaker.”

  “Trust me, I don’t want to be. But after that thing with Lady Valera…”

  “What! You contacted Lady Valera, the blood queen?” he nearly shouted.

  I frowned. That wasn’t exactly a pleasant title. “It didn’t say that on her marker,” I said. “Mistress of something or other, beloved ruler. Died in 1945 at three hundred and some-odd years old. I got lost, found a cemetery, and asked her for directions to the market.”

  “The blood queen gave you directions.” Taeral went ten shades of pale. “So it’s true, then. You are the DeathSpeaker.”

  I was kind of hoping not to get any confirmation. “Apparently,” I muttered. “Since I am, I’d really like to know what that means.”

  “It means that Milus Dei will stop at nothing to hunt you down, to capture and control you,” he said. “You are the key to their goals.”

  “Look, the dead guy already said that. But he left out why.”

  He stared hard at me. “You’ve the power to compel the dead to speak. And the dead cannot lie.”

  Well. I guess that explained why Lady Valera was struggling to answer me. “Okay, so how does that help them achieve their goals?”

  “Do you not see? With you, they can learn all the secrets of the Others. Every hiding place, every weakness—every lethal flaw,” he said. “Their goal is mass extermination. The extinction of all non-human races. And if they gain access to your abilities, they will accomplish that goal.”

  It was a long moment before I could speak. Finally, I managed one word. “No.”

  His brow furrowed. “No?”

  “No. I don’t want this.” Something that felt like a giant fist grabbed my insides and squeezed. I thought it might be panic. “I’m just a guy who drives bodies around. For Christ’s sake, I live in my van. I’m not going to be the key to wiping out entire races of people. Others. Whatever.”

  “Gideon…you already are.”

  If he didn’t sound as miserable as I felt, I would’ve kept right on ranting. But I had to get hold of myself. DeathSpeaker crap or not, I was still going to rescue Sadie. And that meant I had to unlock my potential.

  My phone chose that moment to buzz.

  “Have to take this.” I pulled it out and answered. “Hey, Detective. That was fast.”

  “You got lucky,” Abe said.

  My breath caught. “How?”

  “Your body’s not on Hart Island.” He paused, and I heard something click in the background. “Couple of years back, the chief medical examiner launched a project to identify some of the Does buried there. They had that new DNA building over on Twenty-Sixth, better technology. Started exhuming bodies. Your mystery woman was identified.”

  “You have a name?” I said.

  “Better than that. I’ve got a location. She had a surviving relative, her mother, and she was reburied at Cemetery of the Pines on the lower west side.” There was another pause, longer this time. “Plot number 307. Name’s Jessamyn Hadley.”

  My mother’s name was Jessamyn. The idea filled me with wonder, and something that hurt, too—I’d never get the chance to know her. But at least I had a name. “Thanks, Abe.” My voice was thicker than I expected. “You’re the best.”

  “Do I even want to know what you’re going to do with this information?”

  “Not really,” I said.

  “Thought so. By the way, I’m back on tomorrow,” he said. “Guess the chief got tired of running cases in person, so the grunt work’s all mine again.”

  I grinned. “Lucky you.”

  “Yeah. Call you when I get stuck?”

  “I’ll be here.”

  We ended the call, and I met Taeral’s questioning look. “Time to go.”

  “What happened?”

  “Hell froze over,” I said as I replaced the phone. “Abe found my mother.”

  CHAPTER 21

  It was three in the morning when we arrived at Cemetery of the Pines to rob a grave.

  I’d parked the van a few blocks away and carried the still-unused shovels into the graveyard. Since I had Taeral with me, there was no need to move the remains. She could stay at peace.

  Besides, it’d leave Abe wondering why I’d dug it all up, just to put everything back.

  I was still sore as hell from the beating. Didn’t think they’d broken anything, but the bruising was pretty bad. Digging six feet of hard-packed earth wouldn’t do me any favors. At least one of us was in good shape. I just didn’t know how well Taeral’s metal arm would perform with a job like this—and I didn’t want to ask.

  The plots were numbered, but it took a bit of wandering to find the right one. Taeral spotted it first. “She’s here,” he called, squatting in front of a small cream-colored headstone with a standard arched shape.

  I walked over and circled the stone to look.

  JESSAMYN ROSE HADLEY

  They were the only words on the gravestone. No dates, no inscriptions. Beneath the name, etched in black, was the image of a heart pierced with an arrow.

  No, not an arrow. A sword.

  “Dark warrior,” Taeral whispered, trailing fingers over the image. “At least she’s a proper burial now. I’d not wanted them to…”

  “Yeah.” Whatever they were going to do, I was glad they didn’t, too. “So, I guess we should get started,” I said. “Don’t know about you, but I’ve never dug up a grave before. It’ll take a while, and we should be out of here before dawn.”

  He snorted. “I am not digging anything.”

  “Hey, I can’t do this myself,” I said.

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’m in pain. The Duchenes happened, remember?”

  Still crouched on the ground, he tilted his head up to look at me. “Sit down,” he said.

  “That’s not gonna get this grave dug.”

  He sighed. “Sit down, and I’ll heal you.”

  “Um. Right.” I lowered myself slowly to the ground. Sadie had mentioned something about Taeral healing my leg, but at the time I didn’t think much about it. Now I was a little nervous. Okay, a lot nervous. “You’re going to use magic on me?”

  “That is generally how this works,” he said. “Where is the stone?”

  “Where it always is. Under my shirt.”

  “You should take it out.” He gestured at the sky, where a near-full moon glowed bright above us. “Moonstones capture and store the energies of lunar light, like a battery. This energy powers Fae magic and enhances your spark.”

  I nodded and drew out the pendant, like I understood a damned thing he’d just said. “What’s a spark?”

  “Must you question everything?”

  “Yes, I must,”
I said. “I don’t know anything about this Fae stuff. Until a couple of hours ago, I thought I was human.”

  “So you did.” He frowned and looked away. “A spark is a Fae’s capacity for magic,” he said. “It can be drained, even exhausted. With time, it is replenished.”

  “How much time?”

  “Enough questions!” he snapped. “You’ll have your answers once you’ve been restored from changeling. Now be still—and silent—so I can heal you.”

  “Fine.”

  I wasn’t sure what to expect. I thought maybe he’d chant some magic words, even pull out a wand or something. But he just closed his eyes and held his metal hand out palm-first toward me.

  After a few seconds, magic happened.

  Lines of blue-white light traced themselves across his palm like fire, forming more of those symbols. Runes. The light-lines spread up his arm and vanished into his jacket sleeve. As the glow intensified, warmth blossomed in my chest and moved through me, filling me.

  The pain eased, and then vanished.

  Taeral lowered his arm and looked at me. “Better?”

  “Holy shit.”

  “I’ll assume that’s a yes.” He straightened slowly, turned and picked up one of the shovels. “And I suppose you’re right,” he said. “We should not linger in this place. In fact, the sooner we leave the surface, the better.”

  “So you’re going to help me dig?”

  “No. Stand aside.”

  I got up and stepped away from the grave, amazed at how easy it was to move. I’d had plenty of beatings to compare that one to—I should’ve felt it for a week, at least. But there was nothing left. No residual soreness, not even a twinge.

  I could get used to this magic stuff.

  Taeral held the shovel point-down and dragged it across the ground, drawing a rough rectangle around the grave. He stepped inside the shape and scratched runes into the earth. Then he moved back and whispered something.

  The ground inside the rectangle shivered and shook itself apart. Clumps of grass, dirt and stones surged out like waves, piling itself in mounds along the sides. The hole deepened rapidly to form a gaping black slash.