He bared fanged teeth, transforming into the beast that he was, and yanked on his evil-infused whip, which slithered more tightly around my waist.
I smiled. None of it would be enough. I whispered the words of destruction. “Mors liberabit vos.” Death will free you.
Like a bullet from a gun, I shot a ball of flaming light, channeling it from my chest down the whip, incinerating it into ash as my power zipped up the line to the demon prince. Danté opened his fanged mouth in a bellowing yell, howling like a desperate animal. The explosive impact of the orb hit his chest. The blast fried him into charred bits. The echo of my power rippled in white light across the room and sent the rest of the demons scuttling through the archway, clambering over one another to escape. My light filled the entire cavity of the domed arena.
I stood, chest heaving, till the light dissipated and there was no sound but the distant din of screaming demons and Danté’s hissing remains that littered the blood-smeared stone floor. For the first time, I was truly happy to be a Vessel of Light, to have the innate will and power to wield death against an evil entity of darkness. If any creature deserved to be wiped from existence, it was Danté. And now he’d never haunt my days or nights. He’d never hurt anyone again, damned souls or free. He was good and truly gone.
I spun toward Jude and fell to my knees. His battered cheek rested on the stone where he’d been positioned for beating and torture. One eye had swollen shut. His lips were wrinkled and cracked from lack of moisture, his body drained of so much blood. The tears streamed hot again, scalding my cheeks. His body was lean from abuse and lack of nourishment.
“Jude.”
His one good eye rolled wide, full black and seeing nothing, before closing again. I reached out and put two shaking fingers on the pulse point on his neck. A faint beat, but it was there. After unlocking the wrist shackles, I tried to lift him around the waist, my hands sliding on his blood-slicked skin. He was dead weight. His body slid off the bench and flipped onto his back. He gasped in pain when his skin hit stone, but his eyes never opened. He slipped back into silence, fists clenched tight.
I gasped, covering my mouth with my hands. The razor-sharp whip had scored him hundreds of times, cutting long slashes into his skin. The Celtic cross tattoo that adorned his chest was indiscernible under the torn flesh and blood. Bruises and gashes covered his legs, probably from being dragged from one torture station to the next. I bent over him, gently lifting his head.
“Jude,” I whispered. “Can you hear me?”
Nothing. Not a flutter of eyelashes, not a twitch of his hand. I pressed my lips to his forehead—one of the few places unmarred—and wept for the pain inflicted upon him. I wondered how he could possibly recover from such brutal suffering. Seething hatred welled up inside me till I could see nothing but red. I wished Danté were alive so I could kill him again. And again.
Swiping my tears away with the back of my hand, I inhaled a deep breath. “Get it together.” I set his head gently down and stood to pick up my katana and returned it to its sheath.
A shriek overhead. But one that made my heart soar with relief.
“Mira!”
She swooped down onto the bloody bench that had held Jude a moment before.
“I’m so glad to see you.” Her mere presence made my heart lift a little.
I squatted beside Jude and pulled his upper body into a sitting position. He groaned in pain but never roused. I strained under his weight. To lift him was utterly impossible.
“Damn it. I need you to stand up, Jude.”
No response. I could sift with him to get back across the realm, but there was no way I could lift him. Killing Danté had drained my strength. How was I possibly going to do this?
Mira chirped and fluttered closer to me till she perched on his opposite shoulder.
“No, don’t. He’s hurt.”
She clicked her beak in defiance. She was gentle with her talons, barely pinching his skin. A glow emanated from her chest, brightening into a silvery orb, the same as the bright light that burned out of my chest the day she came to me. She shot me a sharp-eyed glare with her fiery gaze over Jude’s shoulder. She willed me to understand. I tried again to lift him. This time, he was much lighter. Mira tottered as I slowly got him to his feet, with my neck beneath his arm for support, gripping his waist and the arm I’d draped over my shoulder.
“What other secrets are you hiding?” I asked.
She chirped twice as if to fuss at me for stalling.
“Okay. I need you to go to the entrance where we came in. See if it’s safe.”
Instead of flying, she sifted herself away with a tiny crackle. I realized then that sifting rules applied to her as well. Seconds later, she reappeared with three high chirps. All was clear.
I imagined the corridor, the one where the shackled women were being kept. A millisecond later, I stood outside the door, Jude’s body leaning heavily against me. Mira perched on a craggy outcropping, one of many jutting from this disordered heap of stones. The corridor was empty, but I heard the distinct whimpering of women on the other side of the door. One cried out in a high-pitched scream. Dim torchlight from within proved they’d managed to get themselves back in order.
“When I open the door, Mira, do that thing you did before. Okay?”
She clicked her beak and opened her snowy wings at the ready. Using the wall to help me keep Jude upright, I stretched out my left arm, lifted the latch and shoved the door open. I caught the angry grimace of a three-horned demon with a hammer-like weapon in hand. Mira swept inside.
A demon growled, then a flash of blue-white light. Monstrous snarls and female screams filled the room as a burst of white flashed out into the dark corridor a second, third and fourth time. I couldn’t lean forward or I’d lose my grip on Jude, but I heard the clamoring wails, then thunderous footsteps. Thud, thud, thud before the gargantuan leader collapsed in the doorway, burned down to a skeleton but still twitching and smoking. I dared one step forward with Jude’s heavy weight leaning precariously against me.
Silence but for a repetitive tinkling sound and sparkle of light. I struggled to keep Jude up as I peered inside to discover the source of the sound. Mira pecked at the chains that bound the women to the wall. They stared wide-eyed at the white bird who’d saved them from eternal torture.
“Come, Mira. They must make it on their own from here.”
One of the women was already up and hauling another skinny girl to her feet. I couldn’t take these poor souls out of hell. They were here for one reason or another, but I was glad to free them from the likes of this place. Better they dwell unmolested in some dark cavern in Lethe’s realm than here.
Mira flapped into the corridor, then sifted away. Seconds later, she was back with a friendly chirp. As before, I’d follow her lead, sifting to the spot I’d used as a target on the way here. Back down the mountain, skipping the ledge where the man-eating demons camped, across the black river into the misty realm of Lethe, through the naked-limbed forest where I’d helped the teenage boy, across the open plain where Lethe’s souls hid in crevices and behind rocks to avoid any contact with another being, and finally to the door where I stood facing Lethe’s veil.
Exhausted, I let Jude slide to the ground, helping him gently onto his back. He made no sound or movement, his body slack except for his balled fists. I checked his pulse again. Faint but beating. I pulled my flask from inside my jacket and unscrewed the top. Lifting his head from my lap, I pressed the rim to his lips. Most of the water seeped into the dusty earth, but, then Jude’s throat worked, and two swallows made their way down before he coughed and spluttered.
“Jude. Jude. Can you hear me?”
No sign of consciousness left me chilled to the bone. A cold mist draped Lethe’s lair. Jude’s naked and beaten form lay there unmoving, his wounds still seeping blood. I feared he would never recover, even if we made it out of here. The reality of what awaited back home fell like a heavy stone to the pit of
my stomach.
Those lips, cut and bruised, had whispered a hundred passionate words of love to me. Those hands, scraped to the bone, had touched me countless times, reminding me again and again who owned my heart. This body, torn to shreds by a sadist’s whip, had shown me the power and pleasure a man can give a woman when she succumbs to her desire. Helpless and half-alive, he was no less the man I knew and loved, but the heartbreak of what he suffered crippled me with fear.
Mira chirped and clicked with impatience.
I wiped the dampness from my eyes with my sleeve. “Yes. I know. It’s time to get out of here.”
Though I’d been told it was impossible, I lifted Jude’s upper body onto my lap, gripped his biceps and tried to sift. My skin prickled with the sensation of moving toward another dimension. Then nothing. We never budged. Whatever force field blocked the passage from sifting, it was strong and held firm.
I’d been considering possible means of escape ever since Dommiel had agreed to bring me here. I’d interrogated George several times. I remember standing in his high-rise apartment in London overlooking the Thames.
“I’ve told you this before, Genevieve. No soul collector will ever willingly give up one of the souls he or she has collected. It just can’t be done.” He’d combed a hand through his chestnut locks in frustration, tousling his hair in an uncharacteristic manner for the ever-calm Saint George.
He had meant to convince me to give up my idea of going to the soul eater’s realm for Jude. Not that he didn’t care. Hell, Jude was his best friend. But George truly didn’t believe I’d come back. That was when it hit me. His words resonated with the answer I needed the whole time.
I’d gripped him by the shoulder with a gentle hand and smiled. “Have faith in me. I’ll bring him home. I’ll bring us both, safe and sound. I promise.”
That was the moment I knew there was only one way. Jude had summoned Acheron and fed him Garzel when the demon refused to give up information. He’d bargained with the banshee-like soul eater Cocytus to gain entrance to Danté’s castle in order to save me in exchange for the body and soul of the foul prince. I’d deduced the best way to get out was to make my own deal. My only fear was that a soul collector wouldn’t want to wait for payment of fee, that he would demand it then and there.
It was finally time to see if my plan would work.
“Mira, stay close to me.”
Hands firm on Jude’s shoulders, I called to my VS and whispered to the air, “Acherontis…adeo mihi…Acherontis…adeo mihi.”
Nothing happened. Mira twisted her head in my direction and chirped once, wedging herself between my outstretched leg and Jude’s torso.
“I’ll try again.”
Closing my eyes, I channeled my supernatural power, calling to Acheron, envisioning his dark form, sweeping out with my Vessel Sense.
“Acherontis…”
The veil of vapor and silver light shivered like a drop in a pond, waves rolling out from a central point. The pinpoint at the center cracked, the tendrils of light shifting to the outer reaches of the veil. The sliver ripped up the entire length of the veil, a dark jagged line breaking the ethereal entity. Black-boned fingers wrapped the edges from inside, pulling the veil apart. An eerie aura of blue drifted from within, shading Lethe’s bleak gray world an otherworldly hue.
Acheron stepped from a domain of pitch-darkness. The folds of his sable mantle rolled and billowed. His hood slipped, revealing a shiny black skull atop a spiny neck. Liquid pools of red with pinpoint pupils gazed from deep-set sockets—eyes that held the darkest secrets of the darkest souls.
When I’d formulated this idea, I’d counted on the fact that soul eaters could wander into any realm, even those of their brothers and sisters. In all other ways, they were creatures unbound by any rules. Apparently, my gamble had paid off.
There was no sound in this place. Even the slightest whisper of the faint breeze swirling the mist died. There was only the cracking boom of his voice.
“Acherontis pabulum.” The unearthly creature pointed a skeletal index finger at Jude.
“No.” I shook my head. “I have better food for Acheron.”
It tilted its ghastly head, observing me with keen scarlet eyes.
“I want to make a bargain.”
The fey wind pushed his cloak open. A screaming well of woe washed over me. I winced at the scorching sorrow and bitter pain resonating from the souls he’d devoured.
“Hear me,” I begged, palm out. “We request safe passage to the world above. In return, I can give you a soul worth a thousand human souls. It will feed you well.”
The inhuman creature stared, waiting.
“I will give you the soul of a demon prince. If you come to me on the night of the Blood Moon, I will deliver Prince Bamal to you.”
The soul eater continued to watch for a painfully long moment. I thought perhaps he didn’t understand. He spoke only in Latin. Recalling my Latin lessons last semester, I tried again.
“In supremae nocte—” On the night, I said, when he waved a bone-black hand in the air, silencing me.
His spidery fingers threaded in the air as he raised a hand to the sky, though here there was no real sky in hell, only a blanket of darkness smothering us from above. “In supremae nocte luna in sanguine…” On the night of the blood moon, his voice crackled. “Volo princeps…” I want the prince. “Aut leporem citus uenator.” Or the hunter.
His chilling gaze found Jude.
I choked back the fear welling inside, a tidal wave threatening to swallow me and pull me to muddy depths. Of course, the only substitute he would take was one equal to a demon prince, the first Dominus Daemonum to walk the earth. I couldn’t allow doubt to take root and fester into a monster that controlled my will. I had no choice. I knew my course. And I would not fail.
“Yes,” I said with a tight nod. “On the night of the Blood Moon.”
Unable to wrap my arms around Jude for fear of hurting his torn and battered skin, I gripped him by the shoulders. His head rested in my lap, his body unmoving.
Please, please, please, I begged in my mind. I dreaded that the collector would reject my bargain on a whim and send us to some other horrific corner of the underworld, perhaps his own domain, which must be close by.
As I glared at the soul eater’s bloody gaze, the silvery light of the veil at his back silhouetted him in stark black. Acheron dropped his dark head, the sable hood sliding forward. The distinct pull at my core shot a bolt of adrenaline through my body. I almost cried, knowing the sensation before a sift all too well. I hooked my arms underneath Jude’s arms, bracketing his body as close as I could.
Then we were gone, sliding through the Void, gray shapes ghosting past us. Mira clawed her way up my sleeve to my shoulder as we flew, Jude’s heavy weight tugging us toward oblivion.
There was no way on earth I’d let him go. My arm would have to break and fall off before I’d let that happen. The sift was long and rough, foul winds twisting around us before we were finally dumped onto solid ground. Jude and I fell into a heap in some unknown forest. Not the Black Forest. The grass beneath our feet, the cold air in my lungs, the leafy trees waving in the breeze, but mostly the clear, starry night hanging above us told me we were back home, back in our world.
I sobbed with relief and pulled Jude back into my lap. “Mira,” I snapped, “go to George. Bring him to Arran. We’ll meet you back home.”
Home. Yes, I was finally bringing Jude home.
Chapter Eleven
I sifted onto the hillside where Jude always did before walking through the wards. I had to drag his body across, then was able to sift him into the cottage and lay him on our bed. A painful ache gripped me as I placed his cut-up feet at the end of the bed and finally got a good look at his naked, bleeding form—bruised and lean from lack of food. Vulnerable. Broken. Alone.
My poor love.
He still hadn’t wakened or shown any signs that he would. Refusing to give in to despair, I
fetched a bowl from the kitchen and filled it with warm water. With a washcloth in hand, I started a methodical cleansing of his entire body, beginning from the feet up.
I stopped at his knees and sobbed. The blood and gore hid the depth of his wounds. He’d been thrown onto his knees many times for the skin to be scraped to the cartilage cap. I could hardly stand to imagine the amount of pain he’d suffered at the hands of sadistic Danté.
“Jude,” I cried, tears rolling down my cheeks. “I’m so sorry.”
Rinsing the towel, I wiped the grime from his forehead, his square jaw and cheekbones, more angular than usual, then from his cleft chin. I remembered how I’d kiss my forefinger and press a kiss there sometimes and how he’d smile.
“Jude, please wake up.”
By now I’d cleaned his face thoroughly and pushed his dirty hair off his cut cheeks and bruised forehead. I had him home, and yet I wasn’t sure if he could ever recover from this. Even if his body healed, would his soul? I didn’t know what they’d done to him in the underworld for nearly a month, but the evidence was staggering and heartbreaking.
The front door opened and slammed. A second later, George stood, breathing hard at my side, bringing with him the cold night air.
“Christ almighty,” he said as he came up beside me.
George checked for his pulse.
“He’s alive. But barely…I think.”
“Go, get another bowl of hot water. We’ll do this together.” He jerked his jacket from his body, unbuttoning and rolling up his expensive white shirt. “Go,” he said more firmly when I didn’t move swiftly enough.
After I’d dumped the bloody water, refilled a fresh bowl and returned, George was whispering to Jude as he slowly examined each bone down one arm, then the other. When I came up on him, he was mumbling nonsense to Jude as if Jude could hear him.
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