Hand In Ash

by Zoe Parker

  “We’re definitely talking about this later,” she warns. She looks down at the formerly crying sorcerer who’s watching them with interest. Sora isn’t a killer, but she can be, and if this got out, they would come for Devil. To protect him, she’s tempted to lean down and burn the sorcerer out.

  “No. Don’t scar your soul like that, Sora. Although I love you even more for it.” Devil is pleading with her, for her sake, not thinking about himself at all. That makes her decision. She looks over her shoulder to ensure one last time that the mage is still passed out and grabs the sorcerer’s arm.

  His sin pours into her and any guilt dissipates as she pushes them back into him. Her magic is still dark and darkens even more as she meets the sorcerer’s eyes, feeding every horrible thing he’s done right back to him.

  His mind starts to shred, and the awareness in his eyes fades away until they’re hollow and empty. She releases him, leaving him breathing in a heap on the ground.

  “Sora…”

  “I’ll be fine, Devil. He got exactly what he deserved. Let’s worry about getting some answers from the mage. I’m sure he knows something.” She looks at Devil, and his eyes widen.

  “Sora!” He yells as dark magic slams into him, throwing him into a wall across the warehouse. She starts to turn, but something slams into the side of her head before she can see who cast the magic. As she falls forward, the last thing she sees is Devil coming towards her looking like a dark, angry demon.

  Get ‘em, Devil…

  Chapter Twelve

  Devil is yelling her name over and over when she finally starts to swim near the surface of consciousness. Along with the annoying sound is a throb of pain in her face and head. She tries to open her eyes, but the brightness of the light shining above her makes her cringe and immediately shut them.

  “Can you please turn that shit off?” she asks hoarsely.

  “Her BP is normal. A magic poultice has already been applied to her face. I think it’s safe to talk to her now,” a stranger says to someone above her.

  She slowly opens her eyes again to meet the worry-filled ones of Devil. Surrounding him is the brightness of an ambulance. Fuck.

  “Are you in pain?” The paramedic asks, shining the annoying light in her eyes again. She bats him away.

  “Yes, and that isn’t fucking helping!” They help her into a sitting position, and she sees Voss and Hank standing outside watching her. “Did you get the mage?” she demands.

  “No, the sorcerer who hit you got the mage out and killed the other one,” Devil explains, looking at the side of her face with anger.

  “Bad, huh?” she asks, trying to smile. Her face protests.

  “It’s already starting to heal, but they said you’ll have bruises for a few days.”

  “All of the expenses will be covered by me, so send the bills to my office. This my fault for letting inept guards come with her.” Sora is awake enough to give Voss a dirty look for his throwing money around like a solution.

  “She wasn’t alone!” Devil vehemently protests.

  “Yet, they still got to her,” Voss counters.

  “Hey! I’m sitting right here. It’s not Devil’s fault. I turned my back on the door, lulled into a false sense of security by a hundred shifter bodyguards. I’m perfectly capable of being accountable for my own fucking mistakes and don’t need you playing goddamn daddy about it.” She winces from raising her own voice.

  “I’m going to give you a shot for the pain, and I don’t think you need to go to the hospital. Your own metabolism is healing you as well as the magic we used.” The paramedic holds up a needle and she makes a face, pulling down the neck of her shirt to expose her upper arm. Meeting her eyes, he smiles and shakes his head.

  There’s only one other place they’ll give a shot.

  Frowning, she rolls onto her side and winces when the sting jolts her backside. Rolling onto her back, she feels the effects of the drugs immediately.

  “Whoa, what’s in that?” she slurs out. A happy-stupid smile twitches her lips.

  “Little bit of this, a little bit of that.” He looks at the three men looking at her. “I’ll give you folks some privacy, but don’t stress her out.” Then they’re alone.

  “Walk me through what happened,” Hank says, patting her calf.

  “When we came here, it looked empty. I figured it was safe since there was a shit-ton of shifters with me and decided to have a closer look. That’s when I saw the evidence that someone was living here. The mage and sorcerer jumped us,” she decides to leave out the part about Devil eating magic and her burning out the sorcerer’s brain and continues, “I bashed the mage in the face with a board and Devil took out the sorcerer. Then Devil went flying, and someone clunked me in the head, end of story.”

  “And after she was unconscious?” Voss growls in Devil’s direction. She starts to defend her pissed off looking guardian, but the drug takes her to a new level of high, and she lets her head flop back on the stiff bed.

  “I went to her, and they escaped.” And he doesn’t sound the least bit ashamed of it either.

  “Why didn’t you try to stop them?” Voss demands, leaning close to Devil.

  “She was more important. I don’t care what’s going on. I will always go to her. Anyone who has a problem with it can fuck right off,” Devil defends, his voice low and menacing.

  “You had a chance to catch them and get us valuable information. Potentially saving lives!” Voss’s voice isn’t raised, but it’s tight with anger.

  “No! I had a chance to get to Sora, and I took it. I will never make a choice that isn’t her, so keep that in mind. I couldn’t give two fucks about you, or this case, or anyone that isn’t her. Do you understand me now, shifter?” Voss blinks and takes a single step back. Sora can’t see Devil’s face any longer, but something Voss sees on it is enough to give him caution. “Since you’re chasing her like a cat in heat, I’d think she would be your priority too. What’s that say about you?”

  “Stopping murdering terrorists outweighs any personal desires I possess, familiar.” Sora winces, she understands that statement perfectly clear. It simply puts in perspective exactly what she already knew. She will always be second in his life; she wasn’t wrong to think it. But damned if she honestly cares right now.

  “He’s not a familiar… why does everyone always get that wrong?” She slurs out. “Let him do whatever, Devil… catching those killers is way more important than getting in my pants.” She hiccups and giggles.

  Everyone looks at her and says at the same time, “What?”

  “The cat in pants… ya know? With the sword?” Her thoughts are spiraling into daydreams about sword-fighting cats and butterflies wearing dresses at a ball.

  “I have to find out what they put in that shit. She’s stoned as hell,” Devil says, laughing.

  “Tacos! Gimme tacos, Devil!” She pleads before promptly passing out.

  Chapter Thirteen

  When she wakes up again, the headache isn’t nearly as bad, but the hangover is real. It’s a slight one but enough that she’s torn between dipping her face in cold water and puking all over the floor. What the hell did they put in that pain medication?

  Familiar leather stretches as she moves, and she realizes that she’s at the hotel on the couch. The murmur of voices from the small kitchen reaches her, and she takes a headcount. Voss and Hank are both in there discussing the incident from the sounds of things. Bitching about it, more like.

  She continues to lay there with her eyes closed, listening. Hank is supportive of Devil’s decision to take care of her first, and Voss is frustrated because he’s all about the greater good. Not that he’s a bad person for feeling that way; he wants to save lives. It’s that he is willing to sacrifice hers for it. Sora gets it. He’s a leader and responsible for millions of people.

  It still bothers her. Selfish of her maybe, but it is her life he’s bitching about, and she’s entitled to think her life matters. It’s the
only one she has and should have the same importance as anyone else’s.

  As long as she lives, she’ll never understand the desire to be a martyr. Especially one that won’t make a great difference in anything with their death. If she died today because Devil went after them, there’s no guarantee Voss would’ve gotten worthwhile information from those men. Sam gave them nothing, and he wasn’t a sorcerer strong enough to knock Devil for a loop like the other one.

  Her sacrifice would be for nothing.

  Not that she was dying, but that’s not the point.

  To save a life, yes–she’d die without a qualm for an innocent person, she knows that about herself, but not for a fucked-up bunch of cultists who are determined to destroy the world and remake it in whatever skewed image they have.

  This brings home the fact that as long as Voss sees things in that limited world of black and white, they won’t work. His people, his causes, even his beliefs, will always come before her. She’s gone through enough in her life to know she won’t be satisfied by that, whether that makes her a bad person or not.

  The conclusion, at least at this point, is that they won’t work as a couple. Not even a booty call. That will only entangle them and then crash and burn horribly. He’ll wreck her. Because despite her new attitude on life, she’s still a give-all kind of person. She jokes about sleeping with Voss, even considers it almost daily, but she also knows herself well enough to understand that falling is inevitable.

  He’s too damn sexy for her to do otherwise.

  Even if he only said that Devil was right for trying to save her, her thoughts might be vastly different than they are now. She feels how she feels and until things change–if they do–this is how it has to be.

  “I ordered your tacos. They should be here any minute,” Devil whispers from right next to her face. She opens her eyes and smiles at him. He’s hovered there since she woke up, and she’s surprised he waited this long to comment. Then again, maybe he knew she was having an inner struggle.

  “How did you know I was awake?” she whispers.

  “I knew the minute you stopped snoring.” She rolls her eyes at him and slowly sits up.

  “What was in that shit?” She holds her forehead as her head swims.

  “A bit of morphine with a dash of magic. You were quite entertaining on the ride home.” She looks at him in question. Wasn’t I passed out the entire time? Her cheeks heat as foggy memories filter into her brain. She asked for tacos a lot but also commented on how hot Voss was several times. In graphic detail. While following it with how big of an asshole he is. There was hugging involved, not sure who.

  “You even patted Voss’s hand and explained to him how nice he can be and that he’s probably good in bed, but you can’t sleep with a man who has sex with cats,” he says it with a quiet chuckle. She groans and covers her face with her hands. Mortified but tickled at the same time, she continues to blush even as she giggles.

  Peeking through her fingers, she stares at Voss’s back. He handled her inebriation well, showing that he’s more than capable of being a nice person. She remembers his laughter close to her face. Voss was a victim of at least one hug. Her chest tightens a little, and a thread of sadness goes through her.

  If only things were different… but they’re not. Slowly, she takes those budding feelings for him and locks them away behind a wall of friendship. She doesn’t need magic to control her wayward hormones, after all. She just needed a good reason. Having the sense to have some self-preservation is a damn good reason.

  Voss is suddenly on his feet, heading to the door. Devil, still as a statue, watches him and relaxes when the smell of tacos wafts in through the open doorway. Her stomach grumbles loudly, and Voss turns to her with a smile, holding up the bag of food in triumph. As he walks towards her, she almost regrets her decision. Almost.

  “Here are the tacos you blabbered on about for four hours,” he teases, handing them to her. Adjusting herself comfortably, she takes the bag of goodies with shaking hands. Food should set her right and fix the hungover feeling.

  “While you were in la-la land, we found out some information.” She looks at Devil while she takes the first mouthwatering bite. She moans at the goodness, and when she looks up, both men are looking at her like she farted.

  “What?”

  Devil smirks and continues, “They were able to use CCTV from local stores to figure out who the sorcerer I… bit is. His name was Alaric Wolerton, the fourth son from a minor sorcerer heavy family. A year ago, he was disowned for being a loser and having sex with a shifter in public. His magic was mediocre at best, but as you know, powerful compared to any mage they employ. As far as we can tell, he joined up with the cult last year. He went from dead broke to receiving generous payments from your favorite cleaning company.” Devil flicks a glance at Voss before continuing. “Voss has arranged to have a talk with his family and see if they can help him locate any of his known associates. He’s offering a reward, and they’re greedy fucks.”

  “And the mage or second sorcerer?” she asks, and Devil’s eyes flare angrily.

  “The mage we can’t identify yet, but they don’t keep a database like the sorcerers do. Eventually, we’ll discover his identity because Voss is throwing money out left and right. People like money, as you know. The sorcerer… he’s strong, that one, and we are waiting on information to come back on him. This time he wasn’t able to use a forget spell or clean all of the evidence of his magic away.”

  “I have a special group of shifters on the task of tracing the magic. You can say they have a nose for these things,” Voss adds.

  Sora keeps her eyes on Devil. His lips are pinched in guilt, and his eyes narrowed in anger. He blames himself for what happened to her, and that’s not his burden to bear.

  “I’m fine. Stop that shit,” she chides gently, booping his nose. He snorts and steals a taco out of the bag. She is fine, and no one blames him. Except for maybe Voss, but not because she got hurt. He blames Devil for letting them get away.

  That’s not all of it, though. She burned out the sorcerer–Alaric whateverhisnameis–and she doesn’t regret it one bit. Nope, Devil is regretting it for her. She winks at him and keeps eating her food, and the tightness of his mouth relaxes.

  She doesn’t have any guilt, and neither should he.

  Smiling at him with a mouthful of meat and cheese, she lets all the love she has for him shine in her eyes. His mouth falls open in surprise, and if skulls can blush, he’s doing it. Laughing around another mouthful of food, she watches the tension leave him, the snark take its place and prepares herself for whatever asinine thing he’s about to say.

  “You have sauce on your boob, want me to lick that off for you?” he teases.

  “Or I can if you prefer someone with a real tongue,” Voss interjects.

  “Fuck off, kitty. Stick to licking your own butthole, I got this covered,” Devil argues. Even Hank laughs at that from the table until Voss gives him a look over his shoulder. He clears his throat but is still smiling when Voss looks away. Hank gives her a wink, and Sora nearly chokes on her dinner.

  She’ll never understand men.

  “Any hints to the identity of the Father?” Sora asks, full and content to sit on the couch in a lumpy ball of sleepy.

  “Other than he’s probably a first or second generation, no. Even the money trail comes to a dead-end, going too far back for us to trace any further. Whoever is doing this is using a mix of technology and magic to cover their tracks and doing it well. That probably means more sorcerers are involved,” Voss explains.

  “So, we’re sure that he’s a sin eater?” Hank asks.

  “Without a doubt. The few we’ve met so far are fanatically loyal to him, and they wouldn’t be to anyone but another sin eater. We also need to keep in mind that we’re encountering the bottom of the barrel for sin eaters. The ones we’ve met–with the exception of the amber-eyed-asshole, are pretty tame compared to the ones we haven’t met yet.” So
ra came to this conclusion after meeting him at the café but hadn’t had time to share it yet. She wanted to be sure.

  She’s definitely sure now.

  “The killings have stopped, haven’t they?” Hank asks, pushing his notes aside and focusing more on their conversation.

  “Look further out in the world, Hank. They haven’t stopped, and what happened here is small compared to what I bet is out there. I’m guessing it’s all over the world, every territory, every country, and is buried under other news. No one wants to admit there’s a set of serial killers loose in their districts. Voss, you have lots of lackeys, I bet some of them are good at finding things on the internet,” Sora explains, giving Voss a coy look. He has potentially millions of people he can use to search; might as well put them on the job.

  “You really think this is worldwide?” Hank asks in surprise.

  “I think there are members of every race, Hank. This guy started recruiting and planning a long time ago and is just now putting things into motion. This has sat and slowly grown and festered like cancer in the shadows.” Sora believes it wholeheartedly. The scale of it is worldwide, and they aren’t playing around. “I’m not sure how long they’ve been preparing for this, or how many people have died in their warped version of a spell. We have no idea how long is left on this spell until it’s complete. One year? Six months? For all we know, it’ll be completed tomorrow.” She stops waving her hands around and watches the solemn faces looking back at her.

  “That’s even if it’s done correctly. But either way, it’ll cause problems. Potentially big ones,” Devil adds.

  “What do you mean, done correctly?” Voss asks, pinning his eyes on Devil.

  Sora watches the gears turn behind Devil’s eyes, the last thing in the world he wants to do is to let them know what he was and in that she agrees. He looks at her, and she subtly shakes her head about him telling them the whole truth. She likes Hank; hell, she likes Voss, but she can’t say she trusts either one of them with this kind of secret. Not yet. Maybe not ever.