Soul Fire (The Eden Hunter Trilogy Book 2)

by D. N. Erikson

  That she’d already had the ID strongly suggested the evaluation was a pretense to rattle my cage.

  If that was the case, Rayna Denton’s day was off to a successful start.

  As we approached the gas station’s crumbling façade, the driver glanced in the rearview and said, “You’re sure this is the place, lady?”

  “The one and only.” I shoved two twenties through the glass divider and got out. The jungle was trying to reclaim the decrepit station—and it was doing a damn good job.

  A pair of rusted, idle pumps sat in front of a small service station with a busted, dirtied window. Moss crept through the snaking cracks in the asphalt. No one had filled up here for the better part of twenty years. A family station wagon was parked to the side of the building.

  A faint trickle of smoke drifted from behind the vehicle. I found Renard Martin clutching a clove cigarette between his dark fingers, leaning coolly against the hatchback.

  “You’re late,” he said with the confidence of someone twice his age. I normally bought the demeanor. He was a smart kid and knew how to handle himself. But he was trying too hard this time.

  “And this shit will kill you,” I yanked the cigarette from his teeth and flicked it into the jungle.

  He looked mildly embarrassed as he ran his fingers through his high, clean fade. “I already got two parents riding my ass.”

  “I wasn’t applying for the job.” I rubbed my foot over the soft moss covering the asphalt. “So?”

  “This Phoenix Protocol is pretty crazy.” He took a deep breath. “You got me freaking out. For real.”

  “That makes two of us.” I drummed my fingers on his car. “So you got the whole document?”

  A girl could dream.

  “Damn, Eden, you drop this on me like twelve hours ago, and—”

  “Life gives you shit and you make shit sandwiches,” I said.

  “That’s not an actual thing people say.”

  I shrugged. “Do you have the whole thing or not?”

  Renard shook his head. “Just lots of rumors, conspiracy theories. You know, crackpot shit.”

  “Anything promising?”

  “I mean, it’s all hearsay, so—”

  “Tell me the best theory you found.”

  “Island could be toast if things get out of hand,” Renard said. “And a phoenix can’t return until a new guardian is appointed. Longer that takes, more our shit is fucked.”

  “And what does that mean?”

  Renard pulled up a webpage on his phone and read from it. “The world’s leading forensic historians have suggested that, until a phoenix returns, no souls can be ferried to the afterlife.”

  “You couldn’t have told me this via text?”

  “Says this whole damn protocol is rubber stamped by the DSA. I don’t want these crazy bastards coming after me. They got eyes everywhere.”

  As I’d mentioned before: smart kid. “And that’s all you came up with?

  “Pretty much.” Renard kicked the car’s bumper. “Look, I’m cutting class for this.”

  “Oh, I’m sure you’re real broken up about that,” I said with a grin. “Quit holding out on me.”

  Renard had a pretty good poker face, but I could tell something was up. Finally, he sighed and said, “I might’ve reached out to my network.”

  “And?”

  “There might be a guy who can backdoor into the DSA’s servers.” He paused a beat, looking like he didn’t want to say the next words. “Get the whole file straight from the source.”

  “What about the FBI?” I asked, my mind racing to my own little file problem.

  “Yeah, probably.” Renard narrowed his eyes. “Don’t you work for them, now?”

  I held up my ID. “It’s official.”

  “Damn, you were a smoke show back in the day.”

  “Your girlfriend’s gonna kick your ass to the curb if she hears you saying stuff like that.” Ah, Eden Hunter. Giving relationship advice to the young and reckless.

  The apocalypse really was nigh.

  “You know what I meant, girl.” Kid was smooth. Had to give him that.

  I suppressed a laugh and said, “Give me this hacker’s details.”

  His confidence faded, and Renard looked hesitant. “My little sis, Mom, they’re just starting to come back, you know?”

  Yeah, I knew. The former mayor had kidnapped them and then forced Renard to sling his shitty pre-made arcana kits for months.

  “They’re in danger right now,” I said. “Only way I can help protect them is if I have the entire protocol.”

  For once, I wasn’t lying to get what I needed.

  “I don’t know…” Renard bit his lip.

  “I won’t let anything happen to them. Or you. Swear.”

  “You can’t mention my name.” Renard pulled at his jeans. “That means you gotta convince this guy on your own. I’m not making the introduction.”

  “No problem. Tell me how to reach him.”

  “All right.” Renard gave me the details, then got in the station wagon and started the engine.

  He was about to drive off when I tapped on the window. “Forgetting something?”

  I tossed the ten grand burning a hole in my pocket into his lap.

  He blinked a couple times. Kid really was rattled if he was willing to work pro bono. But I remembered when I was eighteen. I’d looked like a deer in the headlights more than once.

  Whole thing with his mom and sister had made him grow up too fast. He was still green at the edges.

  I got in the passenger seat.

  “This look like an Uber?”

  “I just need a ride back to town.”

  “Man, I got a paper due tomorrow.”

  “I’m sure your pops is happy about that,” I said.

  “He still thinks you’re my English teacher. Loves you.”

  “Doesn’t everyone?”

  “You’re a crazy ass lady, you know that?” But Renard said it with a smile.

  “Jesus, man, ladies are old,” I said as we pulled away from the gas station. “Really getting demoted from smoke show, here.”

  “Whatever, girl.”

  30

  Renard dropped me off back at the service road.

  For once, I was going to listen to Kai’s advice.

  I had two solid leads in Renard’s hacker and Tamara Marquez’s—hopefully current—address, but pursuing either angle without backup was dumb. Besides, I was still exhausted, and could use the downtime to catch some much needed shut-eye.

  As I headed up the black sand beach, the crystal blue sky shining above me, I fired off a text to Sierra. Asking her for information was safe—no backup required. Maybe Renard’s rumors and hearsay would be enough to finally pry open the DSA’s information vault.

  My text inquiring about said rumors was met with a perfunctory still busy, though, so I decided to up the ante with a call.

  Third time’s a charm, right?

  It went to voicemail.

  “Hey,” I said as I climbed the stairs to the villa, “this is serious. A guy named Xavier Deadwood might be after you.” I paused as I slid the key into the lock. “Not to mention the entire island could go up in flames.”

  I ducked inside the villa and hung up the phone. The quiet, empty space welcomed me home.

  Khan was in the living room, sneaking licks at his belly. His ears flicked when he noticed me watching him with my eyebrow raised.

  “Do you wish to say something, human? Or merely leer?”

  I held my hands up in surrender. “You do you, buddy.”

  “Some of us believe in personal hygiene.”

  I sniffed my t-shirt. Probably time to do the wash. “Anyone stop by?”

  “Boring as ever, stupid human.” His nose bunched up like he’d sucked on a lemon.

  “I could get you a friend. You like collies?” The thought of a hyperactive herding dog nipping at his heels made me almost break out laughing.

  �
�Foul beasts.” He hissed and disappeared behind the couch. “I am hungry, human.”

  “Plenty of cat food.” Khan replied with a string of irritated curses, both invented and those demanding a thesaurus to define. I was hungry, too, but the kitchen was stocked with nothing but coffee and whiskey.

  Still, I went in and checked the fridge. Little paws followed behind me, and I cracked a can of cat food, placing it on the limestone island.

  As I sipped my water, Khan leapt up on the polished limestone and sniffed the can.

  “Filet mignon.” I watched him wrinkle his nose. “Yum yum.”

  The cat gave me the most withering look I’d ever experienced in my life. If I’d been more sensitive, I might’ve been insulted. As it stood, I found his contempt was amusing.

  He took a bite, and decided it wasn’t terrible. “I have been considering the vampire’s sudden appearance.”

  I set the glass next to him. “You mean Aldric demanding his souls early last night?”

  “Yes.” Khan rolled his blue eyes. “It is demoralizing for a beast of immense intellect to be saddled with such slow-witted companions.”

  “Technically, I’m your owner.” I batted his ears, and he hissed, swiping at me with his paw.

  “That is merely the opinion of stupid humans who cannot understand my—”

  “I dunno, I got official papers.” I’d taken him to the vet a month ago, and when he wasn’t whining and trying to bury himself in my shoulder, he’d been trying to make a mad dash for the exit. “If the guy in a white coat says it’s true, it must be.”

  Khan didn’t look amused, but he couldn’t refute the facts.

  To further yank his chain, I fished his collar out of a nearby kitchen drawer. A little bell rattled. It was accompanied by his rabies vaccination and a little heart-shaped tag declaring me, Eden Hunter, owner of one very ornery house cat.

  “You will put that away.” Khan arched his back, his tail flicking like a skunk ready to spray.

  “Might not be the worst thing in the world to wear. What if you get out?” I pretended I might put the collar around his neck.

  He shrieked, crashing and burning to the floor. The can toppled next to him, splattering the kitchen in gravy and beef. After a few seconds of exaggerated moaning, he gingerly rose with his ears plastered firmly to his skull.

  “Never mind,” Khan grumbled, looking embarrassed as he tried to slink away, “I shall not share my thoughts with you, human.”

  “Where are you going?” I tossed the collar on the countertop. “Your food is getting cold.”

  He grumbled something about it not being food. But, apparently he really wanted to share his thoughts about Aldric, because he returned a minute later and ate a few chunks off the floor. “Do not put the collar on me, human.”

  That qualified as congenial for him. “I don’t know. The bell fits you.”

  He stopped eating to glare at me. “You do not like being owned by the vampire, either.”

  “Trust me, no one wants to own you.” I reached down, and Khan let me pet him. Then he hissed. “Tell me about Aldric.”

  “It has struck me that the vampire only came begging for souls after news of this bird leaving had spread.”

  “So you think the two events are connected?” I’d surmised the same. “Aldric looked rattled.”

  “He bore the expression of a man interested in self-preservation,” Khan said, an edge in his voice, like he was going to make that point before I’d jumped in. “Assembling a contingency plan.”

  “He did have one of our suspects clipped,” I said.

  “Consider what he stands to lose, human.” Khan gave me a condescending look. “And who stands to take it from him.”

  Then the cat returned to eating.

  What Aldric stood to lose was simple.

  If the island burned, he lost his fiefdom.

  And the DSA was holding the flamethrower.

  I yawned and shuffled to the living room, too tired to theorize further about what the ancient vampire might be plotting. The clothes scattered around the floor confirmed that no one had ransacked the place during Rayna’s mindfuck. Light danced through the large bay window overlooking the beach. Gentle waves lapped against the shore, leaving behind a foamy froth.

  My hands shook slightly, despite the placid scene.

  Rayna Denton had gotten to me—I’d give her that. Exposing me to the world was a bold move.

  Maybe it was one I should’ve seen coming.

  Much like Aldric, I didn’t know what her game was.

  I suspected I’d need to find out. Being in the dark tended to be hazardous to your health.

  But I wouldn’t figure things out in my current state.

  Without undressing, I collapsed on the couch, allowing sleep to take me.

  I woke up to my phone ringing.

  I answered with a slight grin. “Look who suddenly has time to—”

  Sierra sounded overworked and underslept. “I really can’t help you.”

  Shouts and flurries of activity peppered the background of the call. DSA HQ was in full-on crisis mode.

  “That wasn’t quite the wake-up call I was hoping for,” I said, swinging my legs off the worn couch. “I need the full Phoenix Protocol. You listened to the entire voicemail?”

  “E,” my sister replied in a hushed voice. “You’re playing with fire.”

  “I did always love matches.”

  “Goddamnit.” Sierra let out an exhausted sigh. “I can snag a few minutes away from work in…two hours?”

  “The Loaded Gun okay?” Not my favorite place in the world, and technically I was banned—twice—but it was a place where creatures hung out basically in the open. Talking magical shop wouldn’t raise an eyebrow.

  “Fine, whatever.” Sierra sounded like she disliked the place even more than I did.

  “A little busy over there, eh?” The frantic yelling in the background had intensified.

  “E, I’m serious. You really should just leave it.”

  I said, “Just make sure you actually show up.”

  And my sister replied, “Be careful what you wish for.”

  31

  The Loaded Gun was already semi-busy at seven. There must’ve been an untapped demand for hipster dives that slung ten-dollar shots and fifteen-dollar signature cocktails in dirty glassware.

  As I waited for my sister to show, I’d called Kai, but Rayna still had him buried in paperwork and other bullshit. I got the distinct impression that Rayna was jerking me around.

  Either that, or he was already reaping the inevitable consequences of honesty.

  Sierra’s truck pulled up in the half-full lot. I kicked off the wall, stubbed out the cigarette I’d bummed off the bearded guys out front, and went to greet her. She stepped down from the big truck like an anachronism, her outfit clashing against the pickup’s unbridled intensity.

  The skirt ending below the knee and the modestly heeled sandals didn’t match her, either.

  When I hugged her, she said, “Since when do you smoke, E?”

  “Since I was bored.” I gave her a playful shove. “You’re late.”

  “Not that late.” She checked her watch. “Okay, thirty minutes. But it’s crazy back at headquarters.”

  “Too crazy to answer your phone?”

  Her heart-shaped chin puckered into a plaintive frown. “Get me a better job and we’ll talk.”

  Ah. So the slow service was a form of protest. Hey, I didn’t make the rules. The only way to save her freelancing ass from the fire had been getting her the DSA gig. Working for a (drunken) rain goddess was better than being dead.

  Some days just barely, but still.

  The guys out front checked her out as we walked in the door.

  I sized them up. One guy looked pretty quick, like he might’ve trained at a dojo. The others were soft as hell.

  A little voice in the back of my head wondered why the hell I noticed any of this. I wasn’t a fighter. Never
had been.

  Sierra noticed me staring them down and said, “Those clothes aren’t doing you any favors.”

  “Don’t think they were looking at your clothes.”

  She tossed her platinum blonde hair back and shrugged.

  I followed her down the stairs, into the basement that was the Loaded Gun. Metal guitars blared from the speakers, mashed up with an objectionable blend of hip hop and dubstep. Someone needed to let the DJ know that “Enter Sandman” demanded no remixing. A swirl of magical souls mingled in the crowded space, their backstories vying for attention on my tongue.

  I could tell Sierra, as a fellow Reaper, sensed them too. She seemed a little more overwhelmed. Me, I was used to the city and souls flitting past me. Enough that I had long ceased noticing most of them.

  Down here, though, the taste was inescapable. Channeling some Zen to wash it away would be futile. But one thing always worked like a charm.

  I slid up to the end of the bar and signaled the bartender. “Two vodka tonics. Doubles.”

  “Ew, E, I’m not—”

  I waved off my sister’s protest and shoved the cold drink in her hand. Then I dumped the lime into mine, chucked the straw, and took a sip.

  Good.

  Sierra tried to choke hers down, tears springing in her big blue eyes—the downfall of many a guy—as she fought against the drink. Out of mercy, I signaled the bartender again, and got her a Cosmo.

  She beamed at the pink monstrosity, sipping happily from the straw.

  Until I broached the Phoenix Protocol again.

  “Did you bring it?”

  Sierra furrowed her brow. “Have you lost it? I can’t bring it to you.”

  Damn. Looks like I’d have to use Renard’s hacker after all.

  “Then at least tell me the DSA isn’t planning something insane.” I shook the chilly glass, making the ice cubes clink against the cloudy sides. “Like burning down the whole island.”

  Sierra stole nervous sips of her drink. A guy approached us—her, really—and tested the waters with a lame pickup line about her being a library card, and him checking her out. Instead of punching him in the face for being an idiot, I shattered his confidence and told him to fuck off.