The Everlast Series Boxed Set

by Juliana Haygert

  Then I flipped the page and found the chapter on Mitrus.

  The god of death, the dead, and the underworld cares about his people as if they were family. Sometimes it may seem as if he cares more about the dead than the living, but that’s a misguided perception.

  I shuddered. Good thing he was still in a human body and without his full powers, otherwise I would have to worry about upsetting him and him killing me in his head. Not that that would be a bad thing. I wasn’t afraid of dying anymore, and until yesterday, I had wished Micah would kill me. I just didn’t want to die yet—not without knowing I could do something, anything. There had to be a solution for my pain, for my suffering, in one of these books.

  Then the next paragraph changed it all:

  He has the power to overrule death and bring anyone back to life.

  He could? I mean probably not now, but once Micah became a full god again, he could bring anyone back to life. That got the wheels in my head turning. I could use this, but I needed more …

  Taking deep breaths, I flung the book down and picked up another book titled The Everlast Energy. Nothing I wanted in there. Hours passed. I flipped through at least thirteen books, and I found nothing.

  “What are you doing here?” Morgan asked, entering the door. He carried six thick books in his arms.

  “Sorry. Just trying to learn more about the creed, that’s all.”

  He smiled. “That’s good.” He set the books on a bed. “If you have any doubts about what you read or, any general questions, you know where to find me. I like talking about it.”

  I opened my mouth to ask him about what I was looking for because, if there was anything like it, he would know about it for sure, but I decided against it. He would suspect my intentions and give me an earful about it. No, thank you.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “All right.” He turned to the door. “I need to go to another meeting with Lord Levi, but I’ll be back in a bit.”

  “Okay.”

  Smiling, he left the room, and I tensed. I hoped I found whatever I was looking for before he came back because I honestly didn’t want any of my questions answered by him.

  I glanced over the books he had brought in. One of them was titled Magic in the Everlast. Oh, this could be it.

  I grabbed the book and flipped through it with intent.

  There were all kinds of spells in the book, from how to ward a house against demons, to speculations on how to make a Black Thorn, and how to become a lesser deity—which brought to mind Brock and the Crimson Dagger. Then I found it.

  The Soul Oath.

  Once more it was all speculation, but that was better than nothing. I read the entire chapter three times to make sure I didn’t miss anything. It wasn’t complicated; it just warned there was no way of undoing it.

  For a moment, I wondered if I really should do it. Then I remembered the Fates had given me my soul back because I would need it.

  I knew this was why.

  I searched for him throughout the bunker, which wasn’t the size I would imagine a bunker to be. It was huge. Really huge, and surprisingly warm. I had no idea how, but there was electricity and heat here.

  I was about to give up on my search when I found him in a conference room, one much smaller than the one turned into the gym, but still a conference room.

  Micah sat in a chair, leaned back, his feet on the oval table and crossed at the ankle. His eyes were fixed on the plain white wall, his mind clearly somewhere else. He looked focused and stern, unlike his usual nonchalant and sure self—a side of him I only saw on rare occasions.

  I leaned in the doorway and tried to fight the urge to stare at him. I could only try, because really, who wouldn’t want to stare at him?

  The dark jeans hugged his legs, especially in the position he was in. The black shirt didn’t hide his muscles around his chest and shoulders. His black hair was longer than before, framing his chiseled face. Too handsome for his own good.

  “Like what you see?”

  And too cocky for his own good too.

  I straightened. “I need to talk to you.”

  He put his feet down and pulled the chair in, resting his elbows on the table. “Hmm, you need to talk to me? That’s new. What can I do for you?” Before I could speak, he continued, “I know. Cuddle some more. Darling, I’m all up for that.”

  I shook my head, and the idea of marching out of the room without talking to him crossed my mind. However, I needed to talk to him. I wouldn’t be able to go one more day without resolving this issue and putting my mind to rest.

  “Speaking of cuddling, I found out you have a history with Imha.”

  He shot me one of his award-winning smiles. “Are you jealous, darling?”

  I scoffed, but chose not to comment on that. “I can’t … I can’t imagine you and her.”

  “I can’t imagine it either.” He lost the smile. “It seems too long ago. I guess it was. We never took our hook ups seriously, and honestly, I can’t really remember the last time we were ‘together.’” He made air quotes with his fingers. “Maybe two hundred years ago? Something like that. It never lasted. We were never like Levi and Ceris. We didn’t belong together; we weren’t soul mates. Imha and I simply had fun together.” He shook his head. “Living as a human made me realize how pathetic my affairs with her were. I regret them now.”

  His unexpected confession crumbled my tough facade. Unfortunately, regret didn’t make everything right.

  He was right, though. I was jealous. Too damn jealous, and I was fighting not to show it. I was trying to hide it even from myself, because honestly, I didn’t know what feeling that meant.

  Jealousy aside, I also wanted to ask him about the other times Imha inflicted chaos on the world, but I was already pushing my luck.

  I cleared my throat. “Remember you said you wished there was something you could do for me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, I know what.” He stared at me with his cryptic black eyes, and I took that as a cue to continue. “I want to strike a Soul Oath with you.”

  “What?” He stood—tall, large, and powerful. I fought the urge to cringe. “How do you know about the Soul Oath?”

  “Morgan’s books.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “He showed that to you?”

  “No. He doesn’t know about it.” I paused, thinking of the best way to approach this. “Please, hear me out.”

  “Only a handful of Soul Oaths have been struck in this world, and most of them didn’t do any good.”

  “This isn’t about doing good or bad. Just listen to me.”

  He sighed. “I don’t see why.”

  “Please,” I begged, sure I had sad puppy eyes, even though it wasn’t a conscious act.

  He sighed. “All right. Tell me.”

  I inhaled deeply before blurting it out. “After all this shit is done, when you’re a full god, and we defeat Imha and Omi and restore the world to order, I want you to bring my family back to life.”

  He crossed his arms. “And what do I get from it?”

  “My soul.”

  His eyes widened. “What? Of course not!”

  “Yes. Yes. You will do—”

  “Even if I wanted to strike a Soul Oath with you, the Fates have your soul. You can’t give it to me.”

  “They gave it back to me.”

  He stared at me. “What?”

  “Back in New York, a few days before the attack. They visited me and gave me my soul back. They said I would need it.” I took a step in his direction. “This is why they gave it back to me. I know it.”

  He shook his head. “It doesn’t make sense.”

  “But it does,” I said. “You will strike this Soul Oath with me, because if you don’t do it, you might as well kill me right now.” Trying to be bold, I walked around the table and halted before him, the tip of my shoes touching his. I reached to the neck of his shirt and pulled the necklace from under it. He tensed. “I … I’m not su
re how you feel about your human family now that you remember who you are, but try to think of what it was like before, of what you would have done for your parents. That’s how I feel. I will do anything for my family, and this is the only thing I can think of. They are my reason to live, my reason to fight. I need you to accept this, to do this for me.”

  It took him a full, tense minute to answer. “One soul for five?”

  “Six.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Six?”

  “Yes. Since you’ll bring them back to life, I want Troy to come back too.”

  “That’s even worse. One for six.”

  “It’s what I have to offer.”

  He watched me, thinking. “And your soul will be mine?”

  “Yes. You can send me directly to the underworld or whatever you call that, I don’t care.”

  His jaw tensed and he took a step back. “No.”

  A punch in my stomach. The air leaving my lungs. That was how his response felt. “What? Why not?”

  “You didn’t think this through. You will die. Don’t you realize that? Die, as in never be alive again. You don’t want that.”

  Tears sprung to my eyes. “I do! That’s exactly what I want.”

  He turned his back to me. “No, Nadine. I won’t do it.”

  “But—”

  “I won’t change my mind.”

  I pressed my lips into a thin line and clenched my fists, holding back from jumping on his back and punching the hell out of him.

  If he wouldn’t strike the Soul Oath with me, then I had no options left, nothing to reduce the pain, to feel like I could do something. Oh, God. Sorrow replaced the anger and a tear rolled down my cheek.

  Defeated, I ran back to my bedroom, threw myself on my bed, and hugged Pinky.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t keep you safe.”

  16

  “You have to get up,” Keisha said. She placed the plate on my nightstand and sat on the metal chair beside my bed.

  She came to check on me at least five times a day for the last four days. During her visits, she tried to convince me to eat and then get up.

  “Think about what your family would want,” she said. “They wouldn’t want to see you like that.”

  I just put the pillow over my head, hugged Pinky, and ignored her.

  Who cared about what my family wanted? They were dead. They had no say in my life anymore. Ugh, a life I didn’t want anymore, a life I wanted to end, though I wasn’t brave enough.

  Knowing this shelter had a gym with weapons, I hashed out plans of sneaking in there, grabbing a dagger, and piercing my heart. However, I wasn’t brave enough. I wouldn’t be able to hold the dagger still and stab myself. I needed someone to do it for me. Unfortunately, asking the others for help was out of the question. They would never agree to it.

  So I stayed in my bed, praying to wither away in my sleep before any nightmares came to me because they hurt too much. They made me feel more guilty, more hopeless. They increased the dull ache in my chest until it was too difficult to breathe, and all I could think of was stop. Stop breathing.

  Victor and Morgan also visited me at least once each day, but there was no sign of Ceris or Micah. Micah had no excuses, other than the fact that he wanted distance from me. Which was true, right? He had left me alone on that island, and he refused to strike the Soul Oath with me, proving to me he didn’t care about my feelings and didn’t want any association with me. This dismissal only added to the pain in my chest, making everything worse.

  As for Ceris, I suspected she was still out, searching for the scepters because, if I knew she was here, I would go to her. I would ask her to bind the Soul Oath with me. However, whenever I thought about it, I knew it wouldn’t work. For one, Ceris didn’t like me and wouldn’t do me any favors, even if in the end it meant she would be rid of me. And two, she wasn’t the goddess of death and the dead. She couldn’t bring anyone back to life.

  Killing myself was the only solution to end this pain and reunite with my family. The plan came to me during a nightmare.

  Enfolded by fire, my mom grabbed my hand in her smoldering ones. “You have to save us,” she said, her voice croaking.

  I held on to her, even though the heat scorched my skin. I gritted my teeth and endured the pain that ricocheted through me. “I want to. I want to save you. All of you,” I said between sobs.

  My father appeared on the other side and slapped my mother’s hand away from mine. I gasped, not expecting such action.

  He glared at me. “You are poison. You’re poison to us. You’re poison to anyone around you.”

  Desperation gripped my heart. My father hated me. He hated me because I couldn’t help. Because they died and I did nothing.

  “No!” I cried, reaching for them.

  The fire bellowed higher, stronger, brighter, and engulfed them. I raced to them, screaming when the heat wrapped around me and the fire charred my skin.

  Panting, I jerked awake. My hands shook and my tee clung to my sweat-dampened torso.

  I took a few deep breaths to calm my racing heart, and then shut down my conscience, the part telling me this plan was insane and I shouldn’t do it.

  But I had to. I couldn’t go on like this anymore. I pushed those thoughts away, and a weird mix of desperation and numbness settled in my heart.

  Feeling like a robot on a mission, I threw the comforter aside and jumped out of bed. I pulled a jacket over my tee and shorts and exited my bedroom, hoping everyone was asleep at this hour of the night.

  I tiptoed to the bathroom, grabbed the medicine box from the cabinet, and then tiptoed to the kitchen. I emptied the box of medicine over the counter and sorted through it. Tylenol Cold, Tylenol pain reliever, aspirin, Benadryl, Robitussin, Zyrtec, Anacin, and several others. I opened them all and dumped the contents in a bowl. Now I need some liquid. Water maybe, but I would prefer something a little stronger. I opened the fridge and found beer. Hmm, if I didn’t find anything else, it would have to do. I searched the entire kitchen until I located a tall cabinet housing hard liquor. I grabbed a vodka bottle, a glass from the drying rack, and filled it to the brim.

  I glanced at the bowl with at least fifty tablets and the vodka glass before me.

  My conscience wanted me to listen. It banged on the walls I had built around it, asking me to listen, asking me to think better about this, to give up on what I was about to do—but I refused to hear it. Clinging to the numbness in me, I pushed my conscience away, making it stay locked behind my walls.

  Swallowing pills and drinking would be far less painful than trying to pierce myself with a dagger—and hopefully easier. I wouldn’t feel anything while taking them, not until it was too late. I shrugged. I would probably pass out before feeling real pain and dying, and that was all fine by me.

  Shaking, I held the glass with one hand, took a handful of pills in the other, and popped them in my mouth.

  “What do you think you’re doing?”

  My heart racing, I jumped and choked on the pills. The glass slipped from my hand and crashed to the floor. A coughing fit shook my body.

  Micah rushed to my side. “Nadine,” he said, his voice strained.

  He held my torso up and smacked the heel of his hand, not too gently, on the middle of my back. I spat the pills and took a long breath, which started another coughing fit.

  He turned me around and helped me lean against the counter. The cough subsided and I glanced at him. His brows were furrowed, his lips pressed together, his jaw flexed, the muscles in his neck tense, and his eyes … were filled with hate? Disgust? No, but I couldn’t figure out what it was exactly.

  He ran a hand through his disheveled hair. “What were you thinking?” The tone of his voice carried such disappointment I winced. “I don’t …” He exhaled through his nose. “Why?”

  I averted my eyes and said nothing. I wasn’t sorry about what I had planned to do; I was only sorry that he got here in time
to stop me.

  “Are you this unhappy? So miserable you’re willing to take your own life?”

  There was an open bottle of vodka, a broken glass, and medicine spread over the counter and on the floor. The answer should be clear.

  If I had my way, he would forget what he saw and walk away so I could fill another glass with vodka and grab another handful of pills.

  He shook his head. “What can I do, Nadine? How can I help you feel better?”

  Oh, now that was one question I wanted to hear from him. I lifted my chin and stared at him. “A Soul Oath. I want a Soul Oath from you.”

  He cursed under his breath. “I can’t believe this.”

  “If you do this, if you strike a Soul Oath with me, I won’t try to kill myself. I will make every effort to stay alive, to help you find the scepters, to defeat Imha, until we can honor the Soul Oath.”

  “I don’t see any advantage. You will die either way.”

  “Not true. If I die now, I’ll just end my misery. But with the Soul Oath, I’ll die for a good cause. I’ll help you and the others in this war and then I’ll die to save my family. There’s nothing I want more.” He shook his head. Despair rippled through me, and I punched his chest. “Then get out of here because I want to die! If you won’t help me, then leave!”

  He grabbed my wrists, stopping me from hitting him again and watched me with hooded eyes for a long time. I couldn’t read his look, but I was sure he wouldn’t help me. I didn’t care what he thought; I just wanted him gone from here.

  A new wave of despair hit me and a sob shook my body.

  Letting go of me, he retreated a step. His eyes were hard on mine. My knees buckled and I leaned back on the counter for support, taking a deep breath. This wasn’t working. Micah would never understand my desperation. I thought of giving up for tonight, telling him it was a moment of weakness, and it wouldn’t happen again. Then I would come back here another time.

  “Okay,” he finally said.

  My heart skipped a beat and I gaped. “Okay?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Wasn’t that what you wanted?”