A lost soul who was newly deceased might experience the elements on the mortal side. It was possible that I’d find Tasha’s unsuspecting date dripping wet. He sounded like quite the newbie. But if he’d been around a while, maybe even as little as six months, there was a chance the elements wouldn’t affect him. He might be completely dry. And then there were the lost souls that got all uppity about either being dead or being stuck on the mortal side. They were what the humans sometimes called poltergeists. The elements didn’t matter with them. They were the elements. The Lost Souls Unit had special shackles and chains for harvesting that sort. Unfortunately, I didn’t have any on hand.
The only thing I did have going for me was the fact that I wasn’t wearing my work robe. Tasha had said the souls considered her one of their own without it. All I was hoping for was to go unnoticed. As long as this David fellow didn’t see anyone walk through me while I stalked him, maybe I’d get lucky.
I reached the coffee shop and wandered past the front window with my hands casually stuffed in the pockets of my jacket. Out of the corner of my eye I checked out the customers inside. The water-spotted glass made it hard to discern the hazy opacity of a soul—a very slight difference that distinguished them from the living—but no one wore a green hat, and the only beard I saw was a scraggly white thing that belonged to an older gentleman. That seemed like a detail Tasha wouldn’t have left off, so I dismissed him and circled the parking lot beside the establishment. When I passed by the window for a second look, not much had changed. At least not inside. Out in the rain, my teeth had begun to chatter and my drenched, unfurled curls stuck to my face.
This would have been significantly easier if Tasha had hung around long enough to give me a few more details. Like maybe when she was supposed to meet up with this soul. How long had she intended to hassle me in the cemetery before this date of hers?
I groaned and walked across the street, hoping I’d be less obvious there. Then I spotted a Victorian house sitting up on a hill catty-corner from the coffee bar. It had a wraparound porch curtained by a dozen hanging plants, but beyond those, I noticed a rocking chair. And it was dry. No one would complain if I watched from there, seeing as how the humans couldn’t see me. Another rumble of thunder followed by a crack of lightning finalized the plan.
I hurried down to the end of the block and crossed the street. The concrete stairs leading up to the house were slick with moss and lacked a railing, so I had to tread carefully in the downpour. Rainwater saturated the lawn, and small streams raced past me on their way to the street below, spewing forth from the house’s gutters. When I finally ducked under the roof of the porch, my shoulders dropped down from their hunched position near my ears and I released a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.
I peeled off my jacket and spread it out over the porch swing, giving it a chance to dry out. My white blouse stuck to my skin, and I almost stripped out of it too, before remembering that the soul I was waiting for would be able to see me just fine. I grumbled under my breath and settled for pinching the bottom hem and fanning the fabric to get a little air flow between it and my skin. I soon gave up on that task and opted to squeeze the dripping water from my hair instead.
The rain hushed to a light patter, and I peeked through the gangly vines framing my view of the coffee shop while I preened, watching for any sign of my mark. From the higher ground, I could see the edge of the Oakland Cemetery further up the street. A few spotlights surrounding the more notable monuments had flickered on, including the streetlights running along Memorial Drive, and two city workers were locking up the front gates for the night.
As the minutes slipped by, I began to worry. What was I going to do if he didn’t show? What if Grim had gotten to him and the rest of Vince’s souls first? How I wished Bub was here with me. If only one of his flies had tagged along today, but I was sure he hadn’t thought it necessary, since I was supposed to be meeting up with him at the ship. I wondered if Naledi had been able to reach him at least.
I paced the porch, more out of agitation than in hopes of speeding my dry time. It seemed a little pointless, since I’d have to go right back out in the rain to follow David—if he ever showed up—and knowing my luck, that would be when the sky decided to cut loose again.
Water had found its way under the soul gauntlet on my wrist, soaking through the liner and making it feel like steel wool against my skin. I dug a fingernail underneath it, absently scratching as I watched the coffee shop. Now that my mind didn’t have an immediate task and I was forced to pause, thoughts began to assimilate.
Maalik had killed Saul. Maalik had killed Saul.
And there was nothing I could do about it. My blood pumped fresh, hot wrath. Even though it had happened before my relationship with the angel, even though that relationship was long over, it was hard not to feel betrayed. Had he really thought I would never find out? The deceit wounded me so completely that I was still reeling from it.
When Grim made his surprise appearance, the jolt of surprise and survival instincts had filled the forefront of my mind. But now that had worn off, and my wrathful intent spilled over onto Grim too. After all, he’d given Maalik the order to kill Saul. If there was nothing I could do to extract retribution from Maalik, Grim would have to take the full burden.
A flash of green hat caught my attention and my eyes focused as I shook off my murderous daydream. A bearded man—a soul, from the ashen tint of his skin—sat down at one of the tables on the abandoned patio outside the coffee shop. The sprinkle of rain wasn’t so severe that he looked mental for hanging out in it, but the way he nervously glanced around told me this was Tasha’s guy.
His gaze roamed the area surrounding the coffee shop, and as it reached up the hill toward the Victorian house, I ducked behind one of the posts holding up the porch roof. I bit my lip, hoping I’d moved out of sight in time. I counted to ten and then dared a quick glance down the hill again.
He was gone. Shit.
I grabbed my jacket off the swing and hurried down the porch steps, my boots squishing as they hit the lawn. From here I could see everything. My eyes searched the parking lot and the streets, branching off in all directions and cluttered with more cars. A few customers wandered out of the coffee shop, laughing as they stumbled arm in arm around the corner. The noise turned the head of a man further up on the opposite sidewalk.
He’d lost the hat, and I might not have noticed him if he hadn’t turned around, but the beard gave him away. Unfortunately, my rash decision to spring out into the open lawn gave me away. David’s eyes flashed with recognition and he bolted, tearing off up the sidewalk toward the cemetery.
I skipped the steps and slid haphazardly down the steep lawn. When I reached the street, I chased after him, yanking my jacket on as I went. The storm clouds had moved on, and night had settled over the city, giving me only a glimpse of David as he passed under the streetlight at the corner. He turned east down Memorial Drive.
My lungs burned as I willed my legs to run faster. With all the manor construction and randomness of life, Bub and I had gotten lazy with our desert mountain runs, opting instead to watch the hounds from the comfort of the patio. I was kicking myself for that tonight as my breath rasped and wheezed past my lips.
When I reached the corner, I paused to rest my hands on my knees and glanced down the street. David was almost two blocks ahead of me, his ashen consistency blending into his surroundings the further away he got.
“Screw this,” I hissed, digging the skeleton coin out of my pocket. I flipped it in the air and rode the current between this world and the next. It deposited me behind the short brick wall at the far corner of the cemetery, a couple blocks up from where David was heading. I could finish catching my breath while I waited for him. The streetlights stretched down the opposite side of the street, the side David was on, and they didn’t touch the shadow where I lurked, so I was able to sneak glances over the wall.
Tasha had said she’d passed off as a
soul without her robe, but I didn’t see how that was possible with the way David had reacted to me. I could understand Ruth’s reasons now, since she knew me personally. But was my face so recognizable to souls on this side?
When David reached the corner across the way from me, he shot a quick glance over his shoulder. A frustrated crease touched his brow, and he slowed his pace as he tugged his green hat back over his head. Then he crossed the street.
I held my breath, resisting the urge to jump over the wall and tackle him. It would have been so gratifying. But then I’d have to torture the information I needed out of the soul, which wouldn’t be nearly as fast as just following him. So I rotated against the inside corner of the cemetery wall and continued poking my head up to catch glimpses of his green hat as he rounded the corner and headed up the sidewalk.
The wall was taller where it curled northward, shifting from brick to rock. But the street on this side was darker too, with not as many streetlights and lots of full trees casting shadows. I grabbed a low branch and used it to pull myself up on top of the wall where I trailed David from above.
When he cut across the street and headed for Cabbagetown, I hopped down off the wall and ducked behind a cluster of shrubs, watching him through a thin spot in the foliage. He glanced over his shoulder again, and a small grin pulled at his mouth as his transparency began to increase. The wrought iron fence along the sidewalk was suddenly visible through him. He turned sharply and stepped right past it, going solid again before taking off across a parking lot stretched out before several apartment buildings.
Definitely not something a newbie lost soul should have been able to pull off. Vince was training them. The realization was alarming, even though it made perfect sense. He couldn’t have his disgruntled souls getting picked off before he had a chance to charge them into battle. Especially if he expected them to wait around for a hundred years.
I fetched my skeleton coin again and flipped it to get past the fence. Maybe I didn’t have all the proper training to collect lost souls, but I had my own bag of tricks. I ran after David, my boots slapping against the asphalt as we gave up our pretense. I followed him to a chain-link fence on the far side of the parking lot. He used his ghostly fading trick again, but I was faster with my coin this time, appearing on the other side as he solidified.
“Ha!” I shouted, too excited to have won the chase to care that he hadn’t taken me all the way to his destination. He’d clearly known that I was following him, so there was a chance that he was leading me on a wild hunt.
David lifted his hands and gave me a sheepish grin. “You got me.”
“Where are Vince and the other souls?” I demanded.
“Who?” He blinked at me with mocking innocence.
“See this?” I pulled up the sleeve of my jacket and tapped a finger on the soul gauntlet. “I can suck your soul into it with the press of a button.”
His eyes lit up sarcastically. “Fancy. The Ghostbusters should be calling you.”
“Okay, smartass. You asked for it.” I launched forward, thrusting out the gauntlet.
Concern flicked through David’s expression, but only had a split second to wonder if it was genuine or more mockery.
Something heavy cracked against the back of my skull, and a metallic echo vibrated in my ears. I fumbled forward, my outstretched hands slipping past David as I collided with the pavement.
The streetlights distorted my vision as I rolled onto my back, and muddled voices swarmed around me. It sounded like I was under water. Sleeping with the fishes so soon?
The edges of my sight began to darken, but not before a silhouette towered over me, and then Ruth Summerdale’s face blurred in and out focus.
“I should’ve taken you to Hell,” I slurred, my head lolling limply between my shoulders.
The pain shooting through my skull finally subsided, taking my consciousness with it.
Chapter 22
“It is true that I have had heartache and tragedy in my life. These are things none of us avoids. Suffering is the price of being alive.”
—Judy Collins
I woke with a migraine and a bitter taste in my mouth, as if I’d bitten my tongue at some point between my failed attempt to grab David and being dragged off to… where the hell was I?
I squinted around the dark room. Rope cut into my wrists as I struggled to sit upright, and a metal pole pressed against my spine. My hands had been bound around it behind me, and I realized that the soul gauntlet was missing. Great. Warren was going to kill me. If I made it out of here alive anyway.
A muffled chorus of voices cheered somewhere in the distance, and I strained to listen as someone spoke over them, rallying them into an even louder, roaring crescendo. I couldn’t make out any words. It was all angry gibberish that sounded vaguely like a call to action. Definitely not what Eternity needed right now. This had to be stopped, and fast.
I yanked at the ropes around my wrists, but they were tight, and the metal pole had no interest whatsoever in budging. I pulled in my legs, drawing my knees up to my chest, and then shimmied against the pole as I stood, mindful of my aching head. The pride from completing the action didn’t last long, considering this was as far as I’d be going. In addition to the gauntlet, I was also missing the knife I kept in my boot. And after a bit of wriggling and writhing, I concluded that the skeleton coin was gone too.
A slice of fluorescent light cut across my face as a door opened. I was momentarily blinded. Then a lamp clicked on in the corner, and I could see a vague outline of the room. It looked like an office in a warehouse maybe. It was dusty and mostly empty, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t an active operation here. Lots of warehouse offices looked like this one. I’d harvested enough factory souls to know. Unless a human had special sight, they wouldn’t notice a bunch of squatter souls hanging around while they worked.
They wouldn’t notice me tied up in their office either, I thought, scowling as my eyes adjusted and Vince Hare came into focus. Ruth sat on a desk behind him, wearing my fucking jacket. The lamp sat on a corner of the desk too, and it wobbled as she folded her legs and gripped the edge of the desk with both hands.
“Lana Harvey,” Vince said, stopping in front of me. “I was expecting Tasha, but this is even better.” He’d been wearing a standard issue black robe when I’d bumped into him at the hospital, but tonight he was in a pair of jeans and a black, long-sleeved tee shirt. He held the end of his braided hair in one hand and the hunting knife I kept in my boot in his other, flicking it across his hair as if trimming split ends.
“Nice, isn’t?” I quipped. “The hellcat I castrated with it thought so too.”
Vince sniffed and gave me an amused grin. “Such grit. I suppose you came by it honest, being mentored by Saul Avelo.”
I pressed my lips together and turned my face away from him, choosing to glare at Ruth instead. “I should have sent you straight to Hell when I had the chance.”
Ruth scoffed. “You said that earlier.” She tapped a finger against her temple. “But maybe I rattled your brainpan too much for you to remember.”
“I remember,” I snapped. “I just wanted to make sure you did, too.”
“Honey, I spent damn near a century in a factory. It doesn’t get much closer to Hell than that.” She jumped down off the desk and walked over to stand beside Vince.
“That’s my jacket,” I said, having nothing wittier to come back with.
“Oh?” Ruth lifted an eyebrow and gave me a snide grin. “Is this yours too?” She stuffed her hand down in one of the jacket’s pockets and pulled out the soul gauntlet. Then she dropped it on the concrete floor and brought her boot heel down on it, busting the domed cap and snapping the hinges that joined the two cuff pieces together.
I thought of Warren again and groaned.
Vince made a face at the mangled device. “You kids and your fancy technology. Back when I was a reaper, we had to use bribery and threats to gather our souls,” he said in a jok
ing curmudgeon voice while waving a fist in the air.
“You’re still a reaper,” I reminded him. “Just because you dropped off the grid, doesn’t change what you are.”
Vince sighed and pinched his lips together, giving me a jaded nod. “Maybe so. But Saul taught me to go big or go home—”
“Saul was my mentor, you prick!”
“Ooh, touchy subject.” He recoiled and pretended to shudder in fright. “You’re right. Saul was your mentor. And then you started kissing derrière to move on up in the world—or to Paris, anyhow—while I stayed behind in the States and helped Saul clean up all the Manifest Destiny carnage.” He shrugged at my surprised horror. “Guess that’s why he passed the torch to me instead of you.”
“What torch? There’s no fucking torch. What you’re doing is treason, plain and simple.” Bile burned at the back of my throat, and I took a shuddering breath before swallowing to keep it down. The pain in my head was growing, but I wasn’t sure if it was due to Ruth trying to brain me earlier, or if it was because I couldn’t handle what Vince was suggesting.
He looked at me a long moment, pity filling his eyes. “Eternity needs reformation. It’s needed it for a good long while now. Saul knew that. The souls created that world, and they deserve to have their say in how it’s run. They deserve more freedom and better choices—”
Ruth huffed. “Because having to choose between working in a factory for a century or being dumped in a mindless sea is bullshit.”
“Sorry, honey, but not all dogs go to Heaven.” I rolled my eyes.
Ruth sucked in an offended breath, but Vince edged in front of her when she tried to come at me. “Saul started this movement,” he said, giving her a warning look before picking up where he’d left off. “My cover was blown before his, and he helped fake my death so I could do more for the cause on the mortal side.”
“And where’s she come into all this?” I asked, eyeing Ruth over his shoulder. “She’s just a plain old factory soul.”
Hellfire and Brimstone Page 13