Soul Merchant (Isabella Hush Series Book 5)

by Thea Atkinson

  He'd touched the goon too, holding him aloft off his feet as he let all that pain the man had inflicted on me, and every person he'd ever harmed, funnel right back into the place it had come from.

  The goon had died in agony. He'd felt everything he'd done to others. His death was a long and awful one, and it hadn't been quick. Just certain.

  Maddox had done that. He'd done it to a threat to my safety. Now, faced with a threat to his own, one with a terrible power and a seemingly immortal familiar, I knew he had no choice. It was a battle to the death. It was life or death. He had to win.

  In order to win, he was going to have to do that to The Witchborn.

  And I knew that I couldn't let that happen.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  KELLY HAD GIVEN ME the idea, actually. Whether or not it had been intentional, she'd seeded the unconscious thought as she'd stroked her thumb and casually mentioned that the magic binding the Indentured humans to the Kennel was transitory.

  And that it had a source.

  I knew all about sources. They were tangible. They were things that had physicality. I couldn't do anything about Maddox and the Witchborn fighting to the death. I couldn't prevent the magic that Kindred all over the bar were bidding with from going to Errol. I couldn't do anything about this being the last fight the Witchborn needed to win her freedom.

  But I could do one thing.

  I could steal the object that housed the magic binding the Indentured to the Kennel.

  And I was pretty sure I knew where that artifact was.

  Kelly had said if I failed to leave, I might end up under Errol's thumb. I'd seen a ring on his finger. It had flashed with magic. It was as good a shot as any. It was clear the little puzzle pieces she'd been tossing in my direction were to help me create a picture of indenture. And of freedom. If the slaves were all bound by the magic of that ring, and the source could be transferred, then I was going to become the de facto owner.

  I tried not to pay attention to the sounds of battle above me, or the cheers and whoops and shouts of curses at the opponents within the cage. I kept my attention on Errol. Given the chance to pull the cloak of my stock and trade around me, I found it came easily. I slipped into the shadows of the Kindred jostling for better viewing, and I used their exuberance to conceal myself as I worked my way around the room.

  Good pickpockets caused distraction, or they used it. There was no better distraction than the one unfolding above our heads. Like most crowds intent on that distraction, they paid no mind to someone jostling for better position. Some let me through; some forced me to weave in another direction.

  All of them ignored me. I beat a sure, but slow path toward Errol. The grimoire in my grasp seemed to cling to me as I moved. I barely felt it and at times, I wondered if it found a way to disappear because it seemed weightless at the tightest throngs of contact.

  Finally, I was close enough to the incubus that I could sidle up within arms' reach. I'd started out my career as a pickpocket. Picking a pocket isn't a complete cinch, but there are techniques to facilitate better success.

  You can funnel the target into an area where they are crushed into others, for example. That makes any assault on them harder to detect, because they are in contact with lots of sensations. Distractions are good too. The more the better.

  If this were a human club, I'd attempt to use the target's own sense of compassion to distract him. I'd drop a purse or a phone and hope they'd decide to help.

  None of those things ensured a successful lift, but they upped the odds. Picking a pocket or lifting goods from the unsuspecting human is one thing. Pulling a ring off an incubus's finger was going to take some finesse.

  I decided the bottleneck would be my best chance. I'd need to crush him into enough sensation that he wouldn't feel me working at the ring. Or I'd need to find a way to get him to take it off.

  Or I could do a mixture of both.

  I spied a brutish looking vampire nearby buying what looked like a tankard of blood. The human server passing it to him had a docile and sweet expression on her face as she leaned close to him, neck arched invitingly toward his lips.

  I swallowed down my revulsion and aimed my feet in her direction. One hook of my foot around her ankle, and she stumbled sideways. The vampire caught her tray of blood drinks and flashed a look at me that spelled his irritation.

  "I'm sorry," I said, trying to look like any other human server and plastered a meek look onto my face.

  I reached down to help her up, guiding her ever so unhelpfully toward Errol. She gained her feet about three inches from him. Not quite enough, and not on the correct side. I had to fidget sideways, keeping my head down so as to conceal my face and eyes all while I tried to reach for the tray.

  To the casual observer, I hoped I looked like I was trying to be helpful but was a terrible waste of skin. I couldn't quite reach the tray. The vampire had to step toward me. I inched backward onto the server's bare heel.

  She, of course, hopscotched out of the way instinctively, moving closer to Errol's ring hand. I held out my hands for the tray. The vampire tried and missed passing it to me.

  Irritated, but still assuming we'd need those drinks to serve other Kindred like him, he swore and barged forward right at the same time I pushed the female server into Errol. I grabbed the tray of drinks at the same time and 'lost control' of it.

  The blood drinks sloshed out as the glasses fell. The server lost her footing and fell against Errol. Blood splattered everywhere.

  With his hand drenched in viscous fluid, Errol turned to scold the server.

  Of course, I was out of the way by then because I ducked and rolled around the limbs to position myself perfectly on his ring side. I couldn't be sure the vampire would lose his footing. I had no idea how graceful they were or even if they had preternatural ability to land like a cat might.

  I just knew I had precious few seconds to use the slipperiness of the blood to slide that ring off Errol's finger. By the time I had hold of it, the vampire hadn't lost his footing; he'd lost his temper. The poor server took a slap to the face and Errol spun to complain about abuse of one of his things.

  It took all of three heart-pounding seconds from the time I put my fingers on the ring to the time Errol swung his hand away from me, in effect removing the ring himself without noticing.

  The gaudy piece of jewelry slid from his thumb so easily I almost laughed.

  I didn't waste time once I knew the ring was in hand. I slipped into the crowd with the practiced ease of a dozen years' worth of spiriting myself into anonymity. The ring, clotted with blood that was cooling, was clenched in my fist and I tried not to think about why it had been warm in the first place. I weaved my way through tight-knit clusters of Kindred watching the match.

  One fleeting glance over my shoulder showed Maddox had wrestled the big cat to the floor where it was panting and roaring in frustration. The Witchborn was aiming ever weaker blasts of purple at Maddox. Some of the magic missed but most struck with a force that was enough to turn his skin black where it touched. His hair caught fire when the edge of a blast caught his head and continued on to explode into the bars of the cage.

  There was a moment where everything was still. Maddox almost casually patted the eruptions of flame out on his head. The cat twisted beneath his grip as the Witchborn tried her best to solidify and let the cat go spectral.

  Then everything changed.

  One heartbeat I was pushing my way through the crowds, trying to figure out what I was going to do with the ring now that I had it, and the next a human server standing close to me let out a shriek and then a gasp of surprise.

  Then all around her other servers did the same. Then all around them, others did so too. Chaos erupted all around me in small waves that grew to a tsunami of noise. Moments later, as the Kindred watching the fight in the cage realized something was off, those same enslaved humans started to run, and the Kindred shouted in alarm.

  The slaves darte
d in every direction at first, as though they weren't sure where they were going. They reminded me of the time Scottie had decided to purchase a hen house for his back garden. For eggs, he'd said, and then realized the chickens were past their laying prime.

  He'd killed them with an axe and a makeshift block. The chickens ran much like the humans did now. They had some left-over muscle memory that told them they shouldn't be where they were, but they had no idea how to escape, or even the understanding to know they were already dead.

  Like the headless chickens, they were blind, and going purely on the electrical impulses stored in their tissues.

  It was terrifying to see the blind terror in their eyes as they sought to remember what they were. That they were free.

  But it was the opponents in the Kennel that I cared about, and I threaded through the terror and confusion to the cage.

  I heard Errol call out over the din of screaming and noise of confusion. It was a word of power, I thought, followed by one of rage when the ring in my fist did nothing in response to his words. I caught sight of him as the waves of patrons swelled and retreated and he was shaking the hand with the missing ring as though something had burned him.

  I guessed something had. Metaphorically.

  "Errol," I hollered, lifting my fist above my head. The ring embedded its stone into my palm.

  "Errol, you bastard."

  The lights of the Kennel stopped pulsing. Maddox swung his gaze toward me when he heard me call out. I noted with a flick of my gaze that The Witchborn moved to retreat to her corner. Her familiar evaporated, leaving a large pool of inky black shadow on the floor before, that too disappeared.

  I expected Errol to have heard me as well, but he seemed oblivious. Maybe it was all the servers who were now caught by various Kindred and were kicking and struggling for freedom.

  I pulled my hand back down and wiped the ring on my shirt. Cleared of blood, I could see it pulse with life as though it was a throbbing heart. I cleared away the last of the clots and raised it again over my head.

  This time, without encouragement, Errol's head snapped in my direction. But something else happened at the same moment.

  All of the servers went limp in their holder's arms.

  And Errol saw it too. He looked from one human Indentured to the other and I saw in his face the truth of it.

  The ring was mine.

  And so too were the Indentured.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  I WAS A SLAVE OWNER.

  Me. The woman who had bucked against being treated like a possession. I owned dozens of human beings just like me.

  Except they weren't like me. Not really. They'd lost some essence of themselves to the power that held them enslaved. That essence must have been in the ring, and its possession gave me power over each of Errol's Indentured.

  That's what Kelly was trying to tell me when she said they were under his thumb. The magic that held their bonds was in the ring he wore on his left hand. I could have laughed at the ridiculous pun, and yet I couldn't figure out why she'd given me the information at all.

  I expected it was an event that would enrage the incubus and confuse his patrons. As it turned out, I didn't have to go to Errol to demand he let Maddox and the Witchborn free.

  He was coming to me.

  All activity in the club halted as he strode toward me with a scowl. I caught sight of the two faery women I'd overheard earlier, and they started to eddy toward me, curious I figured, to see what all the hullabaloo was about.

  "Ms. Hush," Errol said when he stood in front of me. It was polite, but tightly wound and tension filled. "It seems as though you've stolen a piece of my property."

  He held his hand out, palm facing up, waggling his fingers. I had the almost irresistible urge to hand the ring over to him. There was some sort of energy coiling around my throat, making me arch toward him without my wanting to.

  "You want to give it back, don't you?" he said. "Thieves are not tolerated here."

  I stumbled toward him, my boots scuffing the floor as though I was walking through knee deep water. I came within inches of him when Pink Sandals stepped between us.

  "You were able to steal the Solomon's Ring? " she said to me with a curious glance. "Right from the incubus's hand?"

  Her face held a look of shock. She duck clapped in my direction and her friend did the same.

  I met and held her eye. It seemed to ease Errol's allure and I found I could breathe again. But it wasn't without cost. I saw a flash of what she really was beneath the glamor of shimmer and long, pink hair.

  She was still beautiful beneath it, but it was a terrifying beauty. She finally broke eye contact with me as she stopped applauding and turned to Errol.

  "That ring gives humans the power over spirits and demons," she said. She pointed at me without looking in my direction. "She is human, is she not?"

  He glared at her while I mentally choked on the information she'd just divulged. I could control demons and spirits? Holy sweet shit.

  I clenched the ring tight in my fist and pulled it against my chest. It felt warm in my hand, and it grew warmer with every second.

  "It's powerful, Ms. Hush," Errol said with a voice as smooth and dark as molasses. "In the right hand, it can indeed do as Elphame here says, but you are not that hand."

  "Who says I'm not," I said. I scanned the room to see every human server leaning toward me like flowers in the sun.

  I inched backward and bumped into someone who hissed at me from behind.

  I held the ring against my chest like a shield. I couldn't even remember why I wanted it in the first place. All I could think now was that I held onto a really, really valuable relic. One that might make me richer beyond imagining.

  Or get me killed. Probably killed. I swallowed nervously.

  Errol inched forward as I moved back the same amount. I didn't know how many Kindred were behind me. I wasn't sure what they'd do, but if I held something that could control them, I wasn't about to give it up. Not until Maddox and I were safely out of there.

  "The hand that could command demons through that ring has been entombed for centuries. Now it is a demon's ring. It has, how shall I say, evolved over the centuries to match what we need of it. Now all it does is control human spirits."

  He spread his arm out sideways toward a cluster of servers whose faces were docile. They stared at me expectantly.

  "You really want to house and feed a hundred humans who have forgotten what they are?" He snorted as though he already knew the answer. He could have been right if I did plan to keep them.

  I pinched the hoop part of the ring and held it out as though it was a flashlight. I wasn't sure what I was expecting, but that did nothing.

  "I can let them go," I said.

  He laughed at that. "You? Your soul is leaking even as we speak. Any Kindred with a nose can smell it. You won't free them. One more day and you'll be no more than a walking zombie without emotion. You'll try to sell them, that's what you'll do. They've been used and assimilated to the special needs of The Kennel, but you might still get a small price from an unsuspecting buyer. Providing you find a buyer, and providing you can find out how to transfer the power."

  "It seems I've already figured out how to transfer the power," I said, with a touch of bravado I wasn't feeling.

  He reached his hand out again for the ring, ignoring my comment. I looked at it as it sat in my fist.

  "I can assure you, they'll end up in my possession again anyway," he said with a note of urgency. I figured out what had him feeling so anxious when someone shouted my name.

  It took me a moment to realize I knew the voice. It took me a second longer than that, to remember why I'd wanted the ring in the first place. It was when I looked up and saw Maddox leaning against the bars of the cage that the memory returned. The barbs and razors had sliced into his skin as he tried to gain that much more lift to his voice by pressing as close as he could.

  I knew right away what I had t
o do.

  Without realizing it, I'd moved almost directly under the cage, and Maddox and the Witchborn were both watching me, each from different corners in the Kennel. Evidently, it had been Maddox who had called my name. She was crouched in a defensive and terrified posture in the opposite corner. Her big cat was winding around her knees like smoke, and she was badly beaten and bloody. Her cheekbones were swollen.

  Maddox looked no better. I thought his nose might be broken.

  They must have halted the fight when the chaos began.

  "Stop the fight," I said and thrust the hand with the ring upward toward the Kennel floor.

  "Let them both live and I won't keep the ring."

  He was right. I couldn't do anything about all those Indentured humans but if I could stop the fight, it would be enough. I'd have unwound the knot I'd tied into a string of events I should never have got involved in.

  Errol gave me a sly cant of his head.

  "All you want is the fight stopped?" he said carefully, so carefully I squinted at him. "And you'll give up the ring?"

  "Isabella," Maddox shouted in warning.

  I turned to Errol, waving Maddox off. He was just distracting me and I could already feel the truth of Errol's warning. I was growing less inclined to help with each passing second.

  "Stop the fight, open the cage, and let Maddox leave with me unaccosted," I said, pulling the ring back against my chest. I was sure everyone saw it, and I didn't fancy leaving it out in the open like that. It was safer against my body. Close.

  "Done," said Errol before I could say anymore. With a flick of his wrist, the Kennel door opened.

  Maddox and the Witchborn clambered down but neither of them did so easily. I noted that he helped her when she stumbled. She leaned on him heavily at first, sagging on her feet as he held her.