After another miss, the fourth pebble finally hit her cheek. Jack’s heart soared when she jerked and lifted her head. She spied him immediately and reached to her ear. “Jack!” she yelled with a relieved smile.
Jack laughed out loud. Headphones? The thought that she’d been lying down there listening to music was surreal. “I’m getting you out,” he shouted. Natalie maneuvered onto her knees and nodded. Red-rimmed eyes stared anxiously from her wan face. Jack held up his index finger and shrugged Brody’s pack from his shoulder. His hand closed around a coil of rope and then he was suddenly struck by a tremendous force. The blow slammed him sideways and he ploughed into the hard ground with his left shoulder.
He instinctively rolled and attempted to get up, yelling in agony as he discovered his left arm was unable to support his weight. Steeling himself for the next attack, Jack was surprised he made it to his feet before being struck again—until he faced his foe.
A large wolf-like beast stood at a distance. Waiting. Apparently it wanted more than a kill—it wanted a fight. Jack slumped forward, right hand on his thigh for support. His left arm hung uselessly from his dislocated shoulder. He watched his opponent but avoided direct eye contact, buying time to assess his situation.
After jimmying the lock on the rowboat, he’d pocketed Brody’s knife, so at least he was armed. He slowly moved his right hand to his back pocket and extracted the weapon. He held it loosely in his hand as his father taught him, finding the balance of blade and hilt. Then he straightened, keeping his knees bent slightly, ready to move in any direction.
The wolf hunkered down, its mouth curled to expose large pointed canines. When it lunged, Jack dove, letting out a groan as pain radiated up his left arm. The beast sailed over him, scrambling for purchase on the dry, cracked earth. It skidded to a stop and spun around to face Jack, snarling.
Recognizing him as a worthy adversary, the animal was finished waiting for Jack to be ready and it sprang forward immediately, snapping its salivating jaws. Jack jerked away, but the strike had been close enough that he felt the wolf’s hot breath on his face and got a good look at its eyes.
Distinctively human eyes.
The wolf must be a skin-walker.
Although skin-walkers weren’t part of the sect, shifters were aware of them because, in their animal form, the shape-changing humans possessed a spiritual element allowing them to cross worlds. Skin-walkers were seldom seen in the underworld, however, because of the risk that if they stayed too long they could become trapped—not only in their animal form, but in the dark realm.
Jack drew in a ragged breath. Lack of proper food and sleep, the lengthy journey and constant fear and stress had left him exhausted. The wolf charged toward his knife hand and Jack adjusted his grip, but at the last minute, the beast twisted mid-leap and hit his throbbing left shoulder. Fangs like daggers sank into his flesh. Jack yowled, wrenching away from the wolf.
He had to end this right now or both he and Natalie would end up dead.
“What a sorry excuse for a wolf,” Jack sneered, rising to his knees, “playing with your prey like a pet kitty.”
The wolf snarled, pacing.
“But that’s because you’re not a wolf,” he taunted. “No, a wolf would fight much more fiercely.”
The beast’s muzzle opened, revealing a row of pointed teeth and allowing a low growl to escape. Jack watched as the wolf licked blood from its chops—his blood.
“You’re only a man. Less than a man, really. I bet you sold your soul. You’re just an underworld lackey. And that’s all you’ll ever be.” Jack could read the anger in those human eyes. “You’re nothing more than a slave, a dog on a leash. I bet—”
He’d pushed hard enough. Furious, the wolf leaped.
Dropping to his knees, Jack leaned backward as the beast flew at him. He jabbed his knife up as the wolf came down, impaling the creature on the blade. Jack heard an agonized howl before the massive animal landed on top of him, slamming his head into the hard ground. His vision became grainy, almost pixilated, and then went black.
Jack blinked, nearly gagging at the fetid smell of the body on top of him. He worked to roll the stinking corpse to the side as he wriggled out from under it. He lay on his back for a minute, gulping in fresh air. The human form next to him confirmed that he had indeed killed a skin-walker. When he was first attacked, Jack thought he was wrong and the brimstone amulet wasn’t working for him after all. But skin-walkers trapped in the underworld were living beings; they would be immune to the effects of a talisman. And also susceptible to death.
Jack knew he had nothing to fear from the body next to him. He rolled to the side and balanced on his knees and right hand, pausing as his head swam. Apparently, he hit the ground harder than he thought.
That he was covered in blood wasn’t a surprise, but his clothes were sticky and the pool where he’d lain had spread considerably before soaking into the parched earth. He must have blacked out. A surge of fear got him on his feet.
He stumbled to the edge of the chasm, a sigh of relief escaping his lips when he saw Natalie on the ledge below. “Got a little waylaid,” he shouted as he grabbed the bundle of rope, ignoring the tackiness of his saturated gloves.
But Natalie didn’t look up.
Jack realized she was standing awfully close to the edge of the precipice. “Natalie!” he yelled.
She didn’t take her eyes from the golden abyss, but she called out. “I think it’s okay now, Jack. It’ll be okay if I go to them.”
Oh God, how long had she waited for him to come with the rope? Obviously, too long. “No!” Jack bellowed. “Natalie, listen to me.” He rushed to a large boulder and wrapped the rope around it, cursing his slow and clumsy one-handed progress. “What about college? You want to be a teacher, don’t you?” He finally achieved a secure knot and rushed back, dropping the rest of the coil over the side and down to the ledge. “What about love? Marriage?”
She didn’t look up. Just kind of swayed, transfixed by the swirling yellow brightness of the chasm.
If he couldn’t get her to climb up, he had to go down and get her. Jack peeled off his blood-soaked jacket and gloves, paying little heed to the searing agony of his dislocated shoulder. He threw Brody’s climbing pack over his shoulder, grasped the rope with his good hand and rolled to his belly. Holding tight, he slipped his legs over the rim and maneuvered his right foot until the rope twined around his calf. Then he began to slide downward. “Natalie, listen to me. Are you listening to me? Do you like kids? Don’t you want to have kids of your own?” He wished he knew more about her—things that really mattered.
She squatted at the brink of the precipice as if she hadn’t heard him. Jack let himself fall faster, the rope burning his palm. “What about Emma?” he pleaded desperately.
Natalie cocked her head. “Emma’s lost.” Her voice held no emotion.
Then she stood upright, and without hesitation, stepped into the chasm.
“No!” Jack cried. His feet hit the rock shelf and he sprang toward her, nearly following her over the edge. Tears stung his eyes as he watched her body cartwheel into the whirlpool of yellow radiance. He’d been so close—so close.
When Natalie’s body disappeared into the brilliance, he let out a wail of grief and frustration.
Jack stared up at the eternally overcast sky. How long had he lain here? He didn’t know.
Nor did he care.
Zalnic won.
Jack saw no point in leaving the precipice. He was a failure.
The thought of joining his ancestors in the chasm settled over him like a comforting blanket. They would welcome him with open arms despite his mistakes and inadequacies.
Even his grandfather.
Jack moaned. Open arms or not, he wasn’t sure he could face his grandfather. Not after the man had helped him visit Natalie in spirit—his first botched rescue attempt. Jack threw his good arm over his eyes. Not only had he let down the living, he’d dishonored the dead.<
br />
Returning to the living world wasn’t an attractive option either. Although he’d rescued Emma, the sect couldn’t possibly deem his quest successful. Shera’s father would break the betrothal. Shifter Premier was out of the question. Ironically, he’d be free to shape his own future.
Great. He’d escaped his fabricated fate after all.
In the worst way imaginable.
Rolling to his belly, Jack scooted to the edge of the stone shelf and rested his chin at the lip of the chasm. He knew it was the coward’s way out, yet taking the plunge was so inviting. The Precipice of Delusion was exactly where he deserved to be—in limbo.
Why had he allowed Natalie to come with him? What had made him think he could keep her safe?
As he stared into the golden abyss, over and over he saw Natalie’s figure as it plummeted into the swirl of brilliance.
She was gone. He had no way to retrieve her. Not even the most accomplished sect member could undo this tragedy.
No one could undo…
Wait.
Jack tore his eyes from the chasm and wriggled away from the edge. He sat up.
There was someone. A human couldn’t free Natalie from the Eternal Chasm, but a god could. One god in particular.
Zalnic.
Jack shook his head to try and clear out the distraction emanating from the abyss. There must be a way to persuade the lord of the dead to release Natalie’s soul.
His thoughts racing, Jack attempted to stand, wincing when his left arm refused to cooperate. He rose to his feet slowly, contemplating the rope dangling on the cliff face. He couldn’t scale the wall one-handed.
His gaze fell to Brody’s pack. His adviser had simply retrieved it and handed it over—aside from rope, Jack had no idea what else was inside. Kneeling, he dumped the bag. With a silent thank you sent out to his teacher, Jack donned a pair of climbing gloves while he inventoried the equipment that would get him to the top of the chasm wall. Brody was an avid climber. He’d taken Jack with him a few times, teaching lessons in faith, trust and focus. The ascension process was complex—Jack wasn’t positive he could configure the harness, straps and ascenders properly.
As it did in his lessons, the methodical assembly of a climbing apparatus pushed all other thoughts from his mind. The ascension method Brody had taught Jack used one leg in a strap to raise the climber up the rope. Oval-shaped ascenders provided a handle for each hand and included a toothed cam that bit securely into the rope when weighted. A climber usually used one hand and then the other to slide the ascenders as he moved up the rope. Jack had to use his right hand to adjust both, slowing his progress.
As he repeated the procedure over and over, slowly scaling the thirty to forty foot sheer wall, Jack mulled over his options. By the time he hauled himself over the rim, he knew one thing for sure—he was about to make a deal with the devil.
Again.
Chapter 14
Buying Time
Jack wiped the sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his shirt. Now that his body was at rest, the sheen of perspiration from the climb chilled him to the bone. He couldn’t seem to stop shaking. Exertion, adrenaline, fear, cold, pain—all ganged up to take a piece of him.
His shoulder screamed in agony and Jack knew he had to address the issue, no matter how distasteful the thought. He crawled to his jacket. The blood was dry, thanks to both the fleece fabric and the arid environment. His phone looked like hell; he’d have no idea if it still worked until he was topside. He left his wasted gloves where they lay.
Removing the brimstone amulet from his neck, he then bent to retrieve Brody’s knife from the skin-walker’s corpse. Whether Jack was worthy of the amulet’s protection or not didn’t matter. He was leaving the necklace behind for Natalie. A nearby patch of wilted grass and a good-sized rock sufficed to hide it along with the knife and phone. Then, with his right arm, Jack draped the jacket over his shoulders and pulled it together over his chest. His trembling decreased somewhat.
Facing the orange blaze on the horizon, he set off toward Zalnic’s lair. He had an idea of how he might fix his dislocated shoulder, although the thought of agitating the sensitive injury made his stomach roil. Instead he concentrated on searching the terrain for items that would serve his purpose. His eyes roved and evaluated each rock formation he came across until he spotted a fairly flat-topped boulder. Then he sought out a good-sized rock he thought would weigh a few pounds. Jack scooped up an oblong stone, set it on the large boulder’s flat surface and climbed up next to it. He lay on his good arm, near the edge. A moan slipped from between his lips as he lifted the oval rock in his weakened left hand and levered it upright vertically with his elbow resting on his hip. He breathed in and out deeply a few times and then began lowering his arm as slowly and evenly as possible, letting his elbow follow when his fist passed the edge of the boulder he was on and continued toward the ground.
He cried out when his arm was fully extended over the side. A bead of sweat trickled across his forehead. His sore shoulder protested in anguish, but Jack let his arm hang, willing the muscles to stretch and allow his bones to slip back into place. A moment later, one final jolt of pain radiated through the arm and then sweet relief flooded the area and spread throughout his body.
Jack dropped the rock and stayed in position a minute longer. Then he sat up, gingerly drew his jacket over the left arm and snaked his right hand into the other sleeve. He was better—still scared out of his mind, blood pumping at an accelerated rate—but better.
As he drew close to the compound, he trudged forward with his hands in the air, telling the sentry who apprehended him that he wished to bargain with Zalnic. He was marched directly to the underground prison. Where Natalie had been given the courtesy of an empty cell, Jack shared his with a foul smelling heap of bones that made his stomach heave.
Zalnic let him stew for a while. Apart from the fetid odor of his decaying roommate and the ache in his left shoulder from having his hands bound behind his back, Jack was grateful for a little rest and time to collect his thoughts. He was banking on Zalnic’s greed to get the better of him. The underlord’s scheme to steal souls from other gods spoke volumes. Since he already had Natalie, Zalnic would want to see if he could get Jack too.
Jack had actually started to doze off when he heard shuffling and the rattle of keys outside the door. Megedagik prodded him up the stairs and deposited him in the same room where he’d waited for an audience the first time. The guard with the cap of charred flesh instead of hair stared at him dully so Jack studied the flames flickering in the small hearth.
As his gaze absently drifted over the stone fireplace and the crude bench next to it, Jack’s heart missed a beat. Natalie’s amulet—the one Emma had been wearing—lay atop the bench. Jack shifted in his seat and then stood slowly. He glanced at the guard. “I’m cold,” he mumbled, and took a few steps to the warm hearth. The heat did feel good and he paused a moment before turning to warm his back. They might usher him into the throne room at any minute.
Jack backed to the bench until his calves touched the wood and then he sat down, keeping his bound hands out of the guard’s sight. He made a show of putting his feet out, one at a time, to warm by the fire. Behind his back, his fingers raked the wood surface for the amulet. He had to scoot back and repeat the process with his feet before he finally snagged the rawhide.
The door to the throne room opened and he quickly balled the necklace into his hand, shoving it into the sleeve of his jacket, and then clamping the sleeve shut with his fingers.
A sense of déjà-vu settled over Jack as he entered the throne room.
“Jack Ironwood.” Zalnic’s voice rasped dryly, as if the sound scraped along the parched earth of his kingdom. “It’s been fun, hasn’t it? I must say you’ve been a worthy adversary.” The lord of souls wore a wicked smile. “Had you been older—and wiser—perhaps you would’ve fared better,” he sneered. Then he laughed, his eyes flaring crimson.
When Jac
k didn’t reply, Zalnic leaned forward, the shadows rearranging themselves into his form. “I heard you want to bargain. What makes you think I’m interested? Let’s check the score, shall we? The girl I released to you was living, her soul pending. Now, I have an actual soul. Of a dead girl.” He paused to watch for Jack’s reaction. “I’m ahead.”
Jack clenched his teeth. That Zalnic knew of Natalie’s plunge was no surprise. The lord of the dead was aware of every soul that passed into the underworld, whether into his service or the Eternal Chasm. “You fully intended to have the soul of the girl you stole.” Jack emphasized the last word. “In the long run, I’d say you just broke even.”
Zalnic’s glowing eyes shrank to red pennies as he contemplated Jack’s statement. Crossing his legs, he reclined on his throne, stroking the highly polished skulls on the armrests. “What are you proposing?”
“Free the girl’s soul from eternity. At the end of my life, my soul goes to you. I’ll serve you for a year before joining the Eternal Chasm.”
The lord of souls chortled.
Jack was unfazed. He knew how to negotiate—you don’t start where you want to end up. He’d opened the exchange with plenty of bartering room.
“Do you really think I intend to let you live out your lifetime?” Zalnic scoffed. “How about if I just kill you now and instantly be one soul ahead of the game?”
“Without my return to the living world, I can’t uphold my end of our earlier agreement. In my absence, the gods of other realms will be advised of your treachery.”
Silence stretched out as Zalnic tapped a skull with a talon-tipped finger. “Then I’ll let you live out your life if you pledge your soul into my service for eternity.”
“Five years servitude.”
“One hundred.”
“Ten.” Jack knew he had Zalnic interested now—he’d dropped from eternity to a mere one hundred years. The debate wasn’t about the servitude, but getting the best bargain.
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