I said in a quiet voice, “A few of them become demons.”
“Anya is at no risk of that fate.”
Anya must’ve been his guardian’s name. Not being a student of magic, I’d have to take his word that she wouldn’t return as an unhinged demon.
“She’ll be giving up a cushy spot in the Fields.” Guardians had to be up there with angels or charity workers in terms afterlife points. The Elysian Fields had six tiers—three good, three bad. At worst, Anya would be slated for the tier right below what some would call heaven.
“I would not be so sure.”
“Enlighten me.”
“One’s guardian performs those tasks which we cannot.”
“Such as?”
“Murder. Subterfuge. Deception.” The great bird glanced beneath his burning wing at the body of his fallen companion. “Anya was responsible for all such duties required to defend my wellbeing.”
“More of a fixer or a cleaner than a guardian, then.”
The phoenix huffed at my judgmental words. “Necessary evils.”
“So a lot of people wanted her dead.” I crossed my sweaty arms. “That’s what this is about, right? You want me to solve this thing.”
“I have indeed caught wind of your recent exploits, Miss Hunter.” He flapped his wings about six inches and a cloud of ash swirled in the warm cavern. “You are what one now calls a natural.”
“Gee, you’ll make a girl blush.” I’d been framed for murder a couple months ago—and the FBI had had had me dead to rights. But I’d solved the case on my own to clear my name. Okay—maybe Kai had helped. I was still taking credit, though. Turned out to be the guy I’d least suspected: Mick Anderson, local ink master. He was now rotting in Lompoc, serving a life sentence back on the mainland.
“It is not my intention to flatter you, Miss Hunter, but to secure your assistance.”
“Why not handle this on your own?” The blade hummed against my leg, reacting to the phoenix’s immense power. “You have the resources.”
Not hidden in this barren, ash-coated cave, of course. But somewhere.
“Must we waste our time with unnecessary details?”
“Only if you want my help.” A guardian’s killer was more than a little dangerous. And while the prospect of rolling the dice excited me, I was adopting a more prudent approach to life in light of recent events.
Or trying to.
Right now, at least, Eden the planner was winning—and she wanted to know what I’d be walking into. It wasn’t every day that a mythical bird asked you to reap his guardian’s soul, after all. But Eden the gambler was hiding in the shadows, waiting for the right opportunity to seize the reins.
Pebbles unleashed a weighty sigh and said, “The blonde one and her team discovered Anya before I could.”
“How the hell did Rayna manage that?” We were on the southeastern part of the island, close to the Boundless Jungle. Tourists didn’t exactly run around spelunking here. Not that Atheas got tons of tourists, anyway. A body could sit out here for days or weeks without anyone stumbling over it. The FBI clearly hadn’t wasted any time canvassing the island’s landmarks.
To what end was unclear.
Pebbles bowed his head in shame. “I have watched her and these investigators over the past weeks. Snapping photographs. Writing in journals. Taking measurements.”
“You should have roasted them.” I was joking—for the most part.
The bird bristled. “I cannot do that.”
“Right, rules against murder and such.” I gave an exaggerated sigh to convey my faux disappointment. “On the plus side, now you and me get to be pals.”
Pebbles didn’t look excited about that. “If you would please examine the body.”
His feathers sparked as he brushed against the cave’s tight walls. With the massive burning bird out of the way, I could see Anya’s corpse fully.
The woman lay face up on a slab of solid rock about the size of a twin bed. Her eyes were closed and her hair was stiff. As I approached, I caught the faint scent of sea salt—and a stronger smell of nicotine. Probably a smoker.
There were no marks on her perfect brown skin, save a raw pink ring around her left ankle. Well-maintained muscle gave her torso a toned look. If I had expected mythical garb befitting a guardian—like a golden cuirass—I would have been disappointed. Anya wore a plain, wrinkled yellow sun dress. More spring or summer-like than mid-autumn, but I didn’t have my pulse on the latest fashion trends. The fabric felt brittle, like it had been wet and then baked in the sun. Her leather sandals gleamed, even though they were covered in a light, salty crust.
“How’d she die?” I ran my fingers over her skin to check for abrasions. The sea salt covering her clothing suggested she had taken a recent dip in the ocean.
“Drowning.”
“Someone weighed her down?” I pointed at the angry red ring around her ankle.
“Anya has felled a horde of vampires unaided by a single ally.” Acidic notes infused the phoenix’s majestic voice. “No mortal man could push her off the cliffs or weigh her down.”
“Then how did she drown?”
“There was a rock tied around her foot.” The phoenix’s voice broke, and I felt sorry for him.
“She did it to herself, then,” I said, glancing back. “If there’s no murder here, then—”
I cut myself off when smoke started trailing off the bird’s shimmering wings. I got the distinct impression this was a sore subject. “Anya was not responsible for her own death. It as much a murder as if she had been pushed by another.”
“But she did jump, right?” I asked. Ash swirled around me as the phoenix beat his wings. Sensing this line of inquiry was tapped out, I switched gears. “Where’d Rayna find her?”
“In the water, by the trees. Far down below.”
“How’d the body get back up here, then?” I asked, already suspecting I knew the answer.
“I took it away.” The phoenix’s gemstone eyes flashed with anger. “Would you allow them to cut her open and perform their poking and prodding?”
Probably—if I wanted to find out what really happened.
“All right, all right, just asking.” I held my hands up in surrender. One detail caught my eye: a small, ragged hole in Anya’s yellow dress, no larger than a dime, near her hip.
The damage could have occurred from the impact—the fabric snagging on a rock in the surf below. But it was worth noting. Her sandals showed no signs of wear, and the leather had been recently polished.
This was not a woman who wore dresses with holes.
I peered at the skin beyond the small hole, finding a tiny welt the size of a mosquito bite.
“Guess your murder theory might be panning out,” I told the phoenix. “Bend down a little.”
“Why is that?”
“Because I need more light.”
A rush of illumination—and stifling heat—burst through the cramped space as the mythical bird amped up the wattage. It was more than enough to spot the miniscule, needle-sized prick at the welt’s center. I snapped a picture with my phone, hearing the phoenix grunt.
“What?” I asked.
“Is it necessary to document her in such a state?”
“Only if we want to solve this thing.” Once you reap enough souls, you get a little cold to death. But compartmentalizing also allowed me to do my job without spiraling into self-doubt. Doing my job well meant surviving another day.
Working on my crime scene manners would just have to wait.
“You said no one could’ve killed her.” I stood up and brushed off my torn jeans, which were now dusted charcoal-black. “What type of being is a phoenix’s guardian?”
“Chosen by the gods themselves, out of all those who pass through the Elysian Fields.”
“So just a normal human with special skills?”
“Once upon a time Anya was human,” the bird replied. “But when she returned to Earth, she was forever changed. Not un
like yourself.”
“How so?”
“The tiniest sliver of a god’s soul flows through her veins.” The phoenix drew a sharp breath, like my questions were becoming taxing. Tough shit. “To permanently bind Anya to me—a mythical beast—and to imbue her with the strength required for her task.”
“You said mythical beast.”
“Phoenixes are not the only beings of great power that must be protected from harm.” The phoenix looked at me sagely. “The world is always in a fragile state of balance, Reaper. Yin cannot override the yang, nor vice versa. For if the fulcrum swings too far one way or the other, the inevitable end is chaos.”
“What other creatures are we talking about?” Atheas was like the final frontier—filled with dangerous surprises hidden over its scenic vistas.
The phoenix shook its head, showering me with embers. “We are straying from useful lines of inquiry.”
“Which god gave up their soul to her, then?”
“Ares bestowed a shard of his to Anya.”
“You all must be very important.” My first theory after seeing the welt had been poisoning—injection, dart, venom. But no standard magic or potion would incapacitate someone with the God of War’s soul running through her veins.
This was a special type of magic.
A dangerous kind.
When the phoenix failed to answer my implied question, I said, “So, you wanna explain why the gods are giving up pieces of themselves to defend you?”
“That is simple, Reaper.” Pebbles cleared his throat and lowered his head. His flaming beak was about two feet from my face, which was a little close for comfort. “I am the ferry to the Elysian Fields. My duty is to transport the departed souls of my designated territory—this island—to that world, so they do not crowd out the living souls in this one.”
I let my face form a silent oh. Phoenixes connected this life and the afterlife. No wonder he’d set up shop out in the steppes, away from civilization. If people found out he could travel to the afterlife at will, he’d have cranks knocking down his door to bring back their loved ones.
“If you could, Reaper.” The phoenix’s voice wobbled slightly. “I have many tasks which must be tended to.”
Anya’s face looked peaceful, and I almost expected her to cry out in pain when the blade touched her chest. But instead, the four-inch stainless steel blade silently cut through the skin right above her heart. Blood stained the surrounding yellow fabric, as red as any human’s. For a guardian with a god’s essence rushing through her body, she was shockingly normal.
Digging my fingers in the incision, I found her soul.
I yelped.
“I warned that she was a complex individual, Reaper.”
“You could’ve spelled it out a little clearer,” I said, taking a deep breath before I pinched one of the soul’s sharp points. Anya’s soul was like one of those brambly brown balls that stick to your clothing after a hike through the woods. I carefully threaded it through the skin and held it up to the light.
Multiple streaks ran through the twisted, thorny clump. The entire color spectrum was represented, symbolizing contrasting elements of good and bad.
Anya had clearly been a complicated lady.
“Okay, so now what?” Blood dripped from my hand in the flickering orange light.
“All shall become clear in time, Reaper.”
“Oh, hell no.” I jabbed a bloody finger at the phoenix, who was beginning to stretch his wings in the tight space. “We’re not doing the whole riddle thing.”
“That is the Sphinx,” Pebbles replied. “I do not do riddles.”
“Could’ve fooled me, buddy.”
“I’m afraid I must go,” the phoenix said, his voice growing sager—if that was even possible—in the dim chamber, “for I must discharge my duties. And you yours.”
“And what duties are those? Specifically.”
“I must take Anya home.” By this point, Pebbles’ stoic aura had overtaken the room like that girl who wore too much perfume. “Bring her soul to a woman named Tamara. She will be able to help you.”
“This Tamara have a last name?” I leapt back from the corpse as the bird’s talons extended. The diamond-sharp prongs clutched Anya’s body gently. The bronze wall shifted behind me.
“Speak with the one called Cross. I understand you are already acquainted.”
“What the hell does Dante Cross have to do with this?”
The bird’s yellow gemstone eyes stared into mine, filled with the knowledge of millennia. “He has what you would call a history with this woman. And he shall be motivated to find her.”
“Or you could just give me this Tamara chick’s address.”
“I do not know where this woman resides.” His wings started to beat into a blur. Voices echoed through the cavern—Rayna’s, Kai’s—as the wall continued to disappear. I’d forgotten the agents had been here at all. “She has returned to this island recently. You must find her all the same.”
The tightness in his deep voice suggested his patience was growing thin. But I did have one final question before he carried Anya to the afterlife.
“And why is finding Tamara so damn important?”
“Because if you bring her a soul, she will tell you how that being spent its final day alive.”
Following those kōan-like instructions, Pebbles shot past me, showering my shoulders in hot sparks.
I shielded my eyes from the molten embers.
When I peeked out again, all that remained in the darkness was a lone feather sitting in the ash.
5
Suffice to say, I didn’t win points with my new FBI associates for allowing Pebbles to fly the coup—quite literally, in this case—and whisk away most of the evidence in his sharp talons. I marched ahead of Rayna Denton down the switch-backing red steppes, listening to her berate me in the dusty heat.
“We ask you to do one thing, Hunter, one little goddamn thing.” The sun jackknifed over the perfect aquamarine water as the agent chewed me out. “I should’ve known you’d fold.”
We had differing definitions of one little thing, but I just grunted in response and kept walking. Ash, dust, blood, and sweat streaked my skin like war paint. After dodging Cross’s calls for the past couple months, I was trying to figure out the best way to patch things up.
He, Rayna, and their little crew of thieves—Zoe, the shifter, and Magnus, the dwarf Jötun—wanted Sir Francis Drake’s treasure map. They’d ripped off Aldric for over thirteen million in gold bullion to decode a map that had led them to a hidden treasure hoard not far from these steppes. Drake’s treasure room had contained yet another encoded map—the one currently in my possession—leading to a prize more valuable than bullion or coin: The Sword of Damocles.
A blade infused with deicide arcana.
Otherwise known as god-killing magic.
They’d roped me into the deal because of one minor detail: Only a Reaper could wield the blade. It was basically a giant Reaper’s Switch, with the power to fell gods.
Only problem for them was that map was tucked safely away in my wall safe. And I had no intention of sharing it with the crew until I figured out just what the hell their angle was.
Ostensibly, they wanted to rid the island of its drunken rain goddess—a mission I would’ve been on board with, since Lucille was such a royal pain in my ass. But dark motives had a sneaky way of cloaking themselves in good intentions.
And hey, it wasn’t the worst thing in the world to have a little leverage.
“Are you listening to me, damnit?” Rayna sounded about ready to choke on her saliva. “I can revoke your clearance. Just say the word.”
Now at the bottom of the cliffs, I finally turned to face her. Despite the dry heat and harsh conditions, Rayna’s stylish blonde wave still looked red carpet ready.
Raising my bloody hands over my head in exasperation, I said, “Then fucking revoke it.”
Rayna’s French manicured nails brushed
stray hair from her eyes. Her gold-trimmed wristwatch glimmered in the bright sun as we stared each other down.
“Just tell me what the bird wanted, Hunter.”
“I’m surprised he didn’t tell you while you were lurking in the bushes with your little camera.”
Rayna’s body jerked like I’d zapped her with a cattle prod. But she recovered quickly, striding over on her stiletto boots to come nose-to-nose with me.
“Watch it, Hunter.” Her lips were twisted into an annoyed scowl.
“Is this about the phoenix running off, or because I won’t give Cross the map?” I knocked into her shoulder as I walked past. “That’s what I thought.”
She yanked my wrist and spun me around. “I’m an agent first, Hunter. It’s my job to document everything on this island. Especially the dangerous things.”
Her poker face wasn’t good, even though she probably figured the damn thing was more secure than Fort Knox.
Funny thing, though.
I actually believed her.
“I can handle it alone,” I said. “The phoenix gave me everything I need.”
That was a lie, but I maintained a stony expression.
“That’s not how the FBI works.” Rayna’s eyes smoldered with an electric intensity. “Besides, like I said—”
“It’s your job to keep tabs on dangerous things,” I said, finishing her thought.
“You get it.” She rubbed her stiletto boot through the dirt. Macaws squawked in the nearby jungle. “Now tell me what he said.”
“Why?” I stuck my tongue out. “Your techs got plenty of great stuff up there.”
“I’m this close to firing you.” She held her fingers a quarter inch apart. “That bird was our number one suspect, Hunter, and you let him walk.”
That was a dumb theory, and she damn well knew it. The phoenix wouldn’t kill his own guardian, even if the laws of magic allowed that to happen. I doubted they did, since gods didn’t give up slivers of their souls without implementing a failsafe or two.
So I gave her the finger, waving it high in the air as I turned on my heel and headed to my import dirt bike. The ocean stretched on in the distance, perfectly tranquil. Too bad I couldn’t just swim to the horizon and keep paddling until I reached the end of the world. The binding agreements that chained me to this island would stop my heart cold before I got a mile out.
Soul Fire Page 3