Soul Fire

by D. N. Erikson

  Threatened was probably more accurate. I checked my imaginary watch. “Even off the clock?”

  “This is the fucking FBI, Hunter, not the Mickey Mouse Club.”

  “Is the latter what you call your group of treasure hunting pals?”

  Her tongue glided over her front teeth, like a predator sizing up an adversary. Finally, the agent snapped the band of her absurdly tight workout pants and said, “If we all work together, then we all get to clear this one off our desks faster.”

  I pretended her idea was a good one. “That doesn’t sound half bad.”

  “Then give me a name.”

  “No name.” Time to think on my feet. My mind flashed over the case’s details.

  What lies could I spin that she would buy?

  Rayna’s eyes were wide, hanging on my words like a child waiting for a bedtime story. Closing this case was a big deal for her—not least of all because the entire island would go up in flames if she failed. Sure, she could streak out of here on the government jet, but that type of failure tended to stain your résumé forever.

  Actually, I didn’t need to lie. Maybe it was the remnants of my lingering buzz, but I said, “We could pay a visit to Tamara Marquez.”

  “I have no interest in visiting a skin joint, Hunter.”

  It took me a moment to realize she meant strip club. “Didn’t know that’s where Tamara worked.”

  “She owns the place,” Rayna pawed at the moldy ground with her sneaker. “Seven minutes.”

  Whoever suggested that the truth would set you free was an asshole.

  “How do you feel about gray areas?” The fact that she was down here, clobbering people in an underground fight ring, told me the answer.

  “It depends.”

  Not quite the answer I was expecting. But I doubled down and said, “Bureaucracy just slows down the wheels of justice.”

  Looking exasperated, Rayna flicked her wavy blonde hair back and replied, “It also prevents chain-of-custody issues. Murderers beating the rap. Little details like that.”

  “And what does stealing thirteen million in gold bullion from a vampire warlord do, then?”

  Her fists tightened into little balls, those French manicured nails probably digging right through her skin. “As I said, it depends.”

  Depends hung in the air like a dagger.

  I leaned back, like I could wait her out.

  Rayna, as expected, was having none of that. “What the fuck, Hunter? A murderer’s out there, and you’re playing hard to get?”

  “You’ve been surveilling this island.” I winked. She glowered. “Tell me what you’ve turned up about the Phoenix Protocol.”

  “Never gotten our hands on it. Our white whale, I guess you could say.”

  I didn’t suppress my smile. I had her completely. “I found a guy. Says he can hack into the DSA.” When she didn’t say anything, I added, “Since you’re in the dark about this protocol, too.”

  I left out the part about cracking into the FBI and vaporizing my file from the public record.

  A vampire at the other end of the locker room kicked a heavy bag with a feral scream.

  Rayna rolled her eyes and finally said, “Your guy have an address?”

  “Yeah. It’s not that far—”

  Rayna darted away to grab her gym bag before I could finish.

  I said, “Don’t you have a fight?”

  She shot me a crazy look. “The arena is just to blow off steam, Hunter. Out there, that’s real life.”

  Rayna began unraveling the tape from her knuckles, then stopped, as if deciding it might come in handy. Her hand shot into the stylish leather duffle and reappeared holding her Glock 22. She slid out the magazine, counted the rounds, then snapped it back in.

  I said, “You know, I could just call Agent Taylor. Seeing as how you’re busy and all.” I needed her to lead me out if I wanted to escape the tyranny of Magnus’s shitty rules.

  But I also had to sell it.

  “We’re going to solve this case tonight, Hunter.” She put the gun back in her waistband. “Those DSA bastards have been freezing me out for too long.”

  Well, Lucille wasn’t known for sharing.

  With that, Rayna spun on her heel, and headed for the exit. I hurried to catch up with her in the tunnel. The crowd murmured with a pre-fight buzz, waiting for a bout that would be scratched from the card.

  We reached the same secret elevator I’d ridden down on, and she swiped a keycard over a hidden reader. The industrial-sized lift rumbled as it descended.

  When its massive doors creaked open, Magnus was inside.

  My heart dropped through the blood-stained floor.

  The dwarf Jötun glanced between us, like he was having trouble processing why we were leaving. Spectators streamed out of the large elevator around him.

  Magnus stayed rooted in place, like a branch lodged in a dam.

  The massive man said, “You’re on in—”

  Rayna stepped inside the lift and said, “We’ve got official business.”

  The giant’s crystal blue gaze narrowed in suspicion. “What did this one tell you?”

  “Confidential.”

  “Did she tell you—”

  Rayna waved him off, tape dangling from her knuckles. “I don’t give a shit about your rules. I try to keep this island safe.” She took a step forward, only coming up to his chest. “And you’re standing in my fucking way.”

  They say shrinks get into the business because they’re trying to cure their own crazy.

  If this interaction was any indication, Rayna had been unsuccessful.

  Exhibit A: She was aggressively confronting a man three times her weight.

  But Magnus surrendered to her authority and stepped off the lift.

  I tried not to breathe an audible sigh of relief when the metal gate rattled shut.

  Relief flooded over me like a pleasurable narcotic.

  Until Rayna Denton shattered the calm with five little words.

  “You think I’m stupid, Hunter?”

  I said, “What do you mean?” But I damn well knew what she meant—and had seen enough grifts go sideways to know exactly where this was headed.

  Well, maybe not exactly.

  Because the last thing I saw when the elevator chimed was a quick snap of the wrist, a taped hand, and then darkness.

  33

  “Rise and shine, Hunter.” The noxious aroma of smelling salts—a pleasant concoction of ammonia and what had to be dead animals—flooded my throbbing nostrils. The ground bumped and rattled beneath me.

  I was in the back seat of a SUV.

  Rayna Denton let the packet of smelling salts slip from her manicured nails as she turned her attention back to the road. A quick glance out the window indicated we were deep in the jungle.

  I tasted blood on my tongue as I sat up. My hands weren’t bound, and a quick check demonstrated that I no longer had my wallet, phone, or Reaper’s Switch. Rayna took a hard left doing about seventy, and I slammed against the door.

  “Where are we going?”

  When Rayna didn’t answer, I tried the door—despite the dangerously high speed—and found the child locks were on.

  “I took the liberty of looking through your phone,” Rayna said. “Turns out, your story wasn’t complete bullshit.”

  “What the hell did you do, Rayna?”

  “But you forgot one thing.” Rayna glanced in the rearview wearing a smug grin.

  “Just one?” I rubbed the bridge of my nose. Rayna tossed a bottle of water back at me. That wouldn’t help the pain, but it would help my dry mouth. “So?”

  “What?”

  “What’s the one thing I forgot?” I asked.

  “I know you, Hunter. Every tell, every tendency. Every lie.”

  “I wasn’t lying about this intel—”

  “Just about investigating it with me. Two steps outside that bar, you’d have been in the wind. And I told you no more fucking secrets.”


  Couldn’t argue with that. But I did. “If you didn’t get in the way, maybe I would run shit by you.”

  Let’s see if she caught that lie.

  “I don’t follow your lead.” The car jackknifed around a corner, and I braced myself against the seat. “You follow mine.”

  “Is that what they call kidnapping these days?”

  Maybe it was another long day.

  Maybe it was the vodka.

  Maybe it was getting punched in the damn face.

  But I was confused as hell.

  Silence settled over the car until I said, “So, let’s investigate this thing together.”

  One final lie was worth a shot.

  “I already texted your friend Renard on my own. Claimed I forgot the contact instructions. He hemmed and hawed, but was nice enough to send them over.” She held up a phone—my phone—and wagged it back and forth. “Then I took a drive while you were sleeping.”

  I blinked, glancing at the clock on the dash.

  It read 11:32.

  Fuck. I’d lost at least two and a half hours, minimum.

  See where telling the truth gets you?

  I said, “Tell me you didn’t—”

  “I got the Phoenix Protocol.” She set my phone down in the cup holder and then held up a thumb drive. “Took a little persuading, but I can be very persuasive. Especially to criminals.”

  My stomach did a backflip, and it was all I could do to keep all those vodka tonics down.

  “Let me guess. You were Miss Bossypants at school.”

  “I didn’t attend school until college,” Rayna said.

  “Taught yourself to read. Very impressive.”

  “I was home-schooled.” Rayna said it like it was a sore spot.

  “I dropped out of high school,” I said. “Didn’t really work out.”

  “I know.”

  “Right. Silly me. That file you unleashed on the world probably mentions that in the first paragraph. Maybe. If it’s as thorough as you claim.”

  Rayna couldn’t resist engaging. “I didn’t just read your file, Hunter. I wrote it. First person on the ground. Four goddamn years alone on this humid rock.”

  I let that fact sink in for a moment to see how I felt about it.

  Verdict: not too good.

  “Bullshit,” I said. “You started watching me in New Orleans. Told me so.”

  “You’re not the only one who can lie, Hunter.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Michigan, the Spanish prisoner with that damn rug salesman. The wire con in Vegas, ripping off that poker pro. And—”

  Rayna Denton hadn’t been bluffing. She knew just about everything. She may have set up the government’s illegal operation in a sovereign territory, but the surveillance had started long before. A long time to keep an eye on me—and, I guess, Aldric and the goddess, too. For some reason, I was considered important.

  I still didn’t know why.

  So I decided to ask.

  “Why am I so special, anyway?”

  Rayna actually laughed. “You think you’re a little hero, hunter? About to embark on your special little destiny?”

  It had crossed my mind. “But the file says…”

  Her lip curled into a derisive smirk. “This isn’t the fucking Lord of the Rings, where you save the world from evil.”

  I slunk down in my seat, momentarily chagrined. “So why, then?”

  “Because you have direct access to the two most powerful forces on this island.”

  I was just a tool to her—same as to Aldric or Lucille. The forces she was no doubt referring to.

  “But the Sword of Damocles—”

  “We can get any Reaper to wield that.” Rayna flashed a razor-sharp smile. “Why the hell would we choose someone who can barely fight?”

  “That big guy’s Achilles probably disagrees with that assessment.” Speaking of which, someone had hopefully taken him to the hospital. If only so I didn’t violate my agreement with Lucille.

  I’d carved him up like a Christmas ham.

  No thanks to myself, of course, but whatever dangerous magic had been cast on me. Maybe the phoenix had blessed me with a few powers to help solve the case.

  Then again, this weirdness hadn’t reared its head until today. Aldric had snuck up on me and Kai on the waterfront last night, and no instincts had shouted for me to run—or stab him.

  “So, you gonna ransom me?” I asked, watching out the tinted window as the jungle grew thicker and wilder. Trips to the east were rarely positive. “Maybe make another thirteen million—”

  “Tonight has nothing to with money, Hunter.” Despite a little prodding, I hadn’t chipped away at Rayna defenses. Banked a couple pieces of trivia, sure.

  And to think, I’d been good at milking people for useful information once upon a time.

  But it was kind of hard to make lemonade out of complete horseshit.

  “Then what the fuck am I doing back here?” I asked. “Since you got everything figured out on your own.”

  Bold move, pointing out you’re no longer needed. But I doubted Rayna was going to dump my body in the jungle. Kai had vouched for her.

  Sort of.

  “You’ll see.”

  Well, if I was stuck on a car ride with my least favorite person in the world, at least I could dig into her past.

  Or piss her off.

  Either one worked for me.

  I settled back in my seat, glancing out the window casually. “So, when’d you join the Bureau, then?”

  Rayna said, “Right out of college.”

  “You got bad career advice,” I said. “Could’ve made way more as a stripper.”

  The idea seemed offensive to her. “I know what you’re doing, Hunter.”

  “What do you have against strippers? Don’t tell me your mom shook her—”

  “She did not,” Rayna said. “I lost my first partner in a raid. The Purring Kitten.”

  “Catchy name, you gotta admit.” I propped my foot up on the seat. “Subtle, but gets the point across, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Get your foot down.”

  “You know, when we were running this guy down in the Florida Glades, humid as hell, my sister got a job at—what’d you call it? A skin joint. But you probably know about this one, right? Whatever, it’ll be like rewatching a favorite movie—”

  “Hunter.”

  I kept going, despite her tone. “Anyway, guy who ran the place had a thing for blondes. Total hard-on. So Sierra gets hired quick, starts the next day, and before you know it, she’s making investment banker money. If I could stand up in heels, I would’ve ditched the grifting thing right then. Five-figure nights—I shit you not. Half your salary.”

  “I have to hand it to you.” The SUV’s tires screeched slightly as she inadvertently tapped the brakes. “You really know how to make a car ride three times longer than it actually is.”

  “Your file should’ve warned you about that,” I said brightly.

  “Goddamnit, Hunter, I already punched you in the face once.” Rayna’s cheeks were noticeably red.

  I acted aghast, even though I wasn’t scared. Okay, maybe a little. Her screws weren’t completely loose, but they were definitely stripped, and with the right torque, they could easily become unhinged.

  “Someone doesn’t know how to make small talk,” I said. “Jeez.”

  Rayna’s phone rang, and she took her eyes off the road to answer.

  A reflex I didn’t know I had—probably that “dangerous magic” Magnus had referred to—recognized the opening. Just under her right arm, where the wheel was unguarded.

  My foot slipped off the seat.

  I sprang forward as she answered the call.

  “What the hell—”

  The car was going seventy, and she slammed on the brakes. I pulled hard on the wheel.

  Tires screamed.

  And then we crashed into a grove of grapefruit trees.

  34
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br />   Rayna’s head slammed off the steering wheel as we mowed down two saplings. Our momentum was finally halted by a third, sturdier trunk. Grapefruits peppered the windshield like hail.

  Me, I somehow had braced myself between the two seats. My shoulders felt ready to pop out of their sockets, but I didn’t fly through the windshield.

  Whatever this strange magic was, it was coming in handy.

  Rayna groaned. My new instincts kicked in.

  I banged her forehead against the steering column, and she slumped over, unconscious.

  The doors were still child locked, so I had to climb out through the front passenger door. I dragged Rayna out of the car before she woke up—or my newfound powers wore off. Her makeup was smeared, blood running through her wavy hair like macabre punk-rock highlights.

  I found a jump rope in her duffle and tied her to a nearby tree. Since there were two jump ropes—Rayna being an overachiever even in the gym—I decided to double-up. By the time I was finished, she looked like a cat that had gotten in a battle with a box of yarn and handily lost.

  Then I searched the rest of her bag, and car. I didn’t find much, but I did snag a handwritten journal from the glovebox and my phone, wallet, and Reaper’s Switch from the center console. By some miracle, the USB key containing the Phoenix Protocol had fallen to the pedals on the driver’s side.

  I pocketed that before returning to Rayna.

  This time, I had the smelling salts. I shoved them right up her nose.

  Her eyes bolted open as she unleashed a mighty, wheezing sneeze. After looking around the dim jungle, she said, “What the fuck is this, Hunter?”

  “Funny, I had the same question.” I popped another packet of smelling salts and waved it in front of her bloody nose.

  “Stop.” She sneezed again, glaring icy daggers at me.

  I beamed back.

  “Goddamnit, Hunter, untie me.” Rayna jerked against the jump ropes, but I’d made sure to triple knot everything.

  “Pass.” I crouched next to her. “Where were you taking me?”

  “I am the Field Director of the—”

  “Maybe I’ll just find the answers in this.” I dug the journal out and waved it in front of her.

  “Don’t read that.”

  I flipped open to a page. “Dear Diary: It’s Monday. I’m still a cold-hearted bitch. Will anyone ever like me? I hope so. Sincerely, Friendless and Unloved.”