“As a vampire, you have two options. Use that to fuel your rage. In that case, you’ll be condemned to a death of sorts. But as you will see, the vampires who die are not whole, even in death. They linger on the outskirts of the realm of death, lacking a soul, unable to get through. It’s where we go, temporarily, when staked. It’s where your blade sends us in total—leaving us there without any hope of coming back, without a staked corpse that might one day revive.”
I cringed, even as Mercy’s cool brush tickled my cheeks. “I never thought about it that way. You said you have two options? What’s the second one?”
“If we don’t use that to fuel our rage, then perhaps we can use it to fuel our… perseverance. It’s the path Nico has taken, and the one I hope to follow. As we gradually recover something like the humanity we lost, even as we grow more powerful, the hope is that some power, some ability, some opportunity might arise that we could become whole again. That we might recover our souls.”
“And that’s why you’re using me…”
Mercy took her brush and dipped it into a cup of black paint, which she had set on the edge of my wardrobe. “You represent an opportunity. For centuries Nico has held on to the hope that you, the same girl who damned him, could also be the one who redeems him.”
“And that’s your hope, too?”
Mercy pressed her lips together. “I’m older than most vampires. But not nearly so ancient as Nico. Still, I’ve gone more than a century without being staked. Not once. I’ve been careful. All I know of the realm of the dead is what Ramon has told me. I know enough from his example that being there too long can make us more monstrous rather than less. It makes us more dangerous when our stakes are removed than we were when they went in. But Ramon has spent nearly as many years there as I have here, on this earth. He cannot be faulted for his… eccentricities.”
“Isn’t calling a serial killer ‘eccentric’ a bit of a euphemism?”
Mercy dropped her brush and looked me in the eyes. “You have not felt the craving that I live with every single day. When a human being kills, he acts contrary to his better nature. He is warped, diagnosed a sociopath. He’s told he is less than what he is, less than human. When we kill, we are acting according to our nature. For a vampire, to kill and eat a human is no different than it is for you to raise and slaughter cattle.”
“Then why are you any different?”
“I’m not.”
“You don’t rip limbs from their bodies. You don’t bury them under your precious tree. You don’t kill out of sport. Not like Ramon.”
“I don’t?” Mercy leaned over and whispered in my ear. “What makes you so sure?”
“There’s a spark of humanity in you, maybe something left over from before, maybe something new that has come with time. But there is a goodness in you, I can sense it.”
“All the better to trick you into becoming my next meal, my dear.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m no Little Red Riding Hood. And you’re not a Big Bad Wolf.”
“You’re right,” Mercy said. “I ate the Big Bad Wolf for breakfast.”
“Besides, you don’t have to trick me. If you wanted to feed on me, you’d just command it.”
Mercy huffed. “You’re right. I could. But that would ruin the thrill of the hunt. There’s no sport in that.”
As Mercy finished, I opened to door to my wardrobe and checked myself out in the mirror. I was stunned. There was a deathly beauty to the way Mercy had painted my mask. It was a look I wasn’t at all used to. I usually try to associate my appearance with adjectives like vivacious or full of life. But this death, the beauty of it, I had to admit there was something alluring about it.
We’re stunning, Isabelle remarked.
I grinned at myself in the mirror.
“Who ever said that death has to be repulsive?” Mercy asked as she took my hand. I gasped at the chill of her touch, my heart fluttered. I hated that this vampire had such an effect on me. Mercy was like death itself—repulsive, but somehow irresistible. “You can admire yourself later. Let’s go.”
Chapter Fifteen
I gripped Beli, my soul blade, by the hilt as I cut a gate into the fabric of space and time. It was my fourth attempt.
“Dammit,” I said, gazing into the luscious green groves for the third time straight. Normally this is exactly where I’d want to go, but I’d opened up enough gates into Samhuinn by accident to know it was a matter of time. “The one time I actually want to go there, it isn’t what’s coming up.”
“Keep trying,” Mercy insisted, squeezing my shoulder.
I glanced over toward Ashley’s bunk—ever since we’d arrived, she and Ellie had been practically inseparable. A part of me hoped she’d show up just in time to join me. Adventures like this—I didn’t do these things without my sister involved somehow. Now, I was preparing to dive into the realm of the dead with a vampire who had mind-control abilities. Not exactly a risk-free endeavor. But what good would Shaman wards and an unwieldy love magic be able to accomplish in Samhuinn? Bringing her with me would be selfish. Not to mention, Mercy wouldn’t likely allow it.
“Look, we can go through into the groves. We’ll just hitch a ride with Beli. He likes going into Samhuinn anyway. Says the heat feels good against his scales.”
Mercy shook her head. “I’m a vampire. And there’s no night in the groves.”
“There’s no sun there, either. Just light… from who knows where. And the one time I briefly flew into Samhuinn, the sun, or whatever emanated light there, was scorching.”
“We aren’t going to the illuminated part of Samhuinn. We’re going to the land of the dead, deep in the heart of the place. It’s a place of darkness.”
“Well that’s fantastic. I’ve never opened a gate there. Not once.”
I think it’s my energy. My magic comes straight from the Tree of Life. To take me with you into the realm of the dead…
“Isabelle thinks her energy might have something to do with it.”
Mercy nodded. “Then look at me.”
“Wait, no… you can’t…”
“Open a gate into the land of darkness, in the realm of the dead,” Mercy commanded.
She can’t control me…
Isabelle was right—she couldn’t. But I couldn’t let Mercy know that. And I didn’t have a choice. I gripped my blade tightly. A deep wave of… sadness… flooded over me. I wasn’t sure where it was coming from. I wanted to cry, but I wouldn’t. Mercy’s compulsion made sure of it. I had a single focus, a resolve that I couldn’t control. As I swung Beli, I felt that same wave of sadness, that depression lift, as a red energy illuminated my blade. In a fury I cut a giant semicircle into the fabric of space and time. A thousand screams struck my ears as a black hole opened in front of me.
Mercy grabbed my free hand and pulled me inside the gate.
No! Isabelle screamed. It hurts!
“Hold on!” I shouted into the darkness, hoping Isabelle would hear.
My feet struck something that must’ve been the ground—it was sticky like tar. I could hear the suction pop as I lifted one foot, and then another. Sobbing and screams echoed all around me—but Isabelle’s own shrieks and cries drowned most of them out.
“She’s in pain,” I said. “Isabelle… I don’t know if we can do this…”
Mercy touched the back of my neck—a sensation that would have sent shivers down my spine if I’d been anywhere else. But here, the air itself smelled of sulfur, and whatever shred of humanity that might persist in Mercy, even if it was only the souls of those she’d fed upon… those she’d murdered… it made her seem alive by comparison. Her touch was oddly warm.
“Fight against the pain, Isabelle,” Mercy said. “Whatever you do, do not use your magic. This place will descend on us in an instant if your power is exposed.”
I don’t know if I can help it. My magic floods over pain. I can’t control…
“You have to resist, Isabelle!” I said, then turn
ed to Mercy. “Look, we need to get Ramon and then get the hell out of here. No pun intended. Isabelle’s power, her magic… it’s like an instinct. Too much pain, too much suffering. She can’t hold it back forever.”
Mercy nodded—a look I could barely discern except for the fact that her red eyes glowed even brighter here than they did in darkness back on earth.
“It’s dark,” I said. “I can’t see a thing.”
“I can see perfectly,” Mercy said. “It’s probably a good thing you can’t see. I usually thrive on the gruesome. But this is a lot to take in, even for me. So much suffering, so much pain…”
“Whatever happened to ‘death is a mystery to revere’? ‘A part of life’?”
“This isn’t death,” Mercy said. “This is something like purgatory. Millions of souls caught here, unwilling to accept their deaths, stuck instead in perpetual torture. Maybe that’s why Isabelle is in such pain. She is dead, after all. This place, it’s like torture to the dead.”
“Aren’t you dead?” I asked. “Do you feel the pain?”
“Not really. I don’t have my own soul.”
“But you do have the souls of others, the souls you’ve stolen in your… meals.”
“But they are incomplete. Just slivers of a thousand different souls all mixed together.”
“You’ve murdered a thousand people?” I asked.
“I’m a vampire. It’s hunting. It’s survival. Not murder.”
I just shook my head. Based on the agony I sensed in Isabelle’s cries, we didn’t have time to engage in a debate over semantics or vampire ethics. “Are you sure you can find Ramon here? She isn’t going to last much longer, not without healing the pain.”
“Follow me,” Mercy said.
My eyes gradually adjusted enough that, aided by the light that came from Mercy’s eyes, I could see a few feet in front of us. I felt something, a presence, brush against my shoulder. I gasped.
Mercy laughed. “Your death mask… the wraiths think you are one of them.”
“The wraiths?”
“Ramon told me it’s the form that human souls who linger here take. A wraith is like a lost soul. No longer human, but not a ghost. So accustomed to their tortures that they’ve forgotten who they once were. They’ve become addicted to pain, unable to move on to the afterlife. They can’t let it go.”
“That’s a fucked up way to spend eternity,” I said.
“And when you stake one of us, this is where we go. Haunted by wraiths, lost human souls. Vampires are damned to wander here until the stake is pulled from their hearts. And those you stake—with your soul blade or whatever the hell you call it—there’s no corpse left on earth. There’s no hope.”
“So all those neophytes that Nico sent to my house… all those I killed…”
“I’m sure they’d be delighted for a chance at revenge. Better keep the ghost in your head under control.”
Just leave her here. Call on Beli. I can’t last much longer…
“Mercy, we have to go. Now.”
Mercy grabbed my arm. “You will not go, you will not summon your dragon until we find Ramon. And you will not leave without both of us. Say yes to your goddess.”
“Yes, goddess,” I said, hating myself for calling her that. “I mean, bitch,” I said as soon as the compulsion was complete.
Mercy laughed. “I can be both.”
Annabelle! I’m losing it… I can’t…
My heart began to race. I wanted to summon Beli. I wanted to get the fuck out of here. But Mercy’s compulsion seized my mind.
A wraith struck my shoulder. My body turned to run away. My foot didn’t. It was stuck in tar. I heard it snap. An intense pain shot up my leg, seizing my body. I screamed in agony.
The pain… the injury… that was all it took.
In an instant Isabelle’s magic flooded into my leg. It tingled as my bones mended. My heart fluttered and my stomach sank at the same time.
Even as my screams subsided, screams all around me swelled into a chorus of anger, of rage.
I tried to shout “Beli!” I needed my blade if not the dragon to bail us out of this situation… but again, I couldn’t spit it out. My tongue was bound to Mercy’s command.
Give me control! Isabelle shouted in my mind. It’s our only chance!
As I released the reins and Isabelle took over, Mercy attempted to grab my hand but was immediately repelled as if touching a live wire. The magic of life filled every inch of my body. Isabelle did what I couldn’t do—she shouted, “Beli!” which, based on my experience, would bring the dragon our way at some point over the next five minutes. But she also gave away the secret… I could see it in Mercy’s eyes. It was the ace in our back pocket, the one thing we had over Mercy, and now she knew. Her compulsions didn’t affect Isabelle.
I felt myself pulled from my body. It was a force like no other. An undeniable force—like gravity. I tried to scream—but no one heard me. Not even Isabelle, whose glowing green eyes gave us a better view of the room around us. Some wraiths, black shadows of what were once human, huddled in the corner, shivering and sobbing. I looked at myself, my arms, black as night. My legs, too.
Fuck, I thought. I’ve become a wraith…
Chapter Sixteen
The moment I realized it, everything went silent. Isabelle and Mercy faded from view, just as a jolt of green energy shot from Isabelle’s fingers and struck a figure. Not Mercy… but something else. I didn’t see it before everything in front of me was consumed with smoke.
Two glowing orbs approached in the distance. Red, and then green. It flickered between the two, more green than red the closer it got to me.
I saw the top hat, the old-timey suit, as the emaciated form of Baron Samedi came into view, his eyes now fully glowing green—like Isabelle’s.
“You’re here as the Reaper, aren’t you?”
The Baron looked at me curiously.
“I’m dead… aren’t I?”
“You wear the mask… at least your body does. It seems she is now in full control.”
“To be apart from the body,” I said, recalling my Catholic schooling, “is to be with the Lord.”
“Eventually,” the Baron said. “If that is the path you would choose.”
“I certainly don’t want to be stuck here. I don’t want to be a wraith.”
“When you pulled me out from the ley lines, when you came here before, I looked you in the eyes before we mounted your dragon and returned to earth. Do you remember that?”
“It gave me chills… but yes.”
“That sensation was my aspect.”
“You gave me your aspect?” I asked, tilting my head and narrowing my eyes.
The Baron nodded. “And with it a single opportunity to return to your earthly life, should you so choose.”
I had never wanted to die. I’d never even seriously considered suicide. But when you’ve crossed the threshold, and eternal peace is within your grasp, when your life has been… hard. When you were destined to share your body with someone else the rest of your life. The idea of simply embracing death, of moving past the here and now to the evermore… there is an appeal to it.
“What about Isabelle?” I asked.
“She would finally have the opportunity to live out her earthly life. It would be in your body, of course. But it would be a full life.”
“That’s so tempting,” I admitted. “No more pain. Isabelle could really be with Mikah, or do whatever she wanted with her life. But you gave me this gift. How many souls get this opportunity?”
“Only those few who receive my aspect,” the Baron said.
“And Lazarus,” I interjected. “Jesus, too. But I suspect you had nothing to do with that one.”
The Baron smiled. “I did not. I am not the only one who has power over the threshold between death and life.”
“But there had to be a reason,” I said.
“Everything has a reason.”
“No, I mean a reason y
ou gave me your aspect.”
“To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose… a time to be born, and a time to die.”
“But this isn’t my time?”
The Baron shook his head. “I live in the in-between, a place where such times are known always. I do not know when you will die before you die. But I dwell beyond your timeline. It is why I always hesitated to return to earth, to go back to the Academy, even though Erzulie’s spell compels I do so again. It has never felt natural for me to dwell within time.”
“But you said I have a choice. If it is already known that this isn’t my time, then what choice do I really have?”
“In a sense, you do not have a choice. I already know you will return to your body. But what is ever-known does not determine your choice. Your choice is still your own.”
“So you gave me your aspect to just honor the inevitability of what you always knew would happen? That doesn’t make sense. If it was inevitable, you could just do nothing.”
“Fatalism is a paralyzing thing,” the Baron said. “But the mystery I speak of is not some kind of static fate. I knew you had to come back because everything else depends on it. If you’d like, I could play the role of Clarence. I could show you how life might look if you’d never been born. I could play the role of the ghost of Christmas future and reveal how life would turn out for Isabelle if you chose to go on to heaven, how it would turn out for Ashley, and everyone else. But these would be illusions—conjectures that fail to account for the truth of the ever-known.”
“So It’s a Wonderful Life was all bullshit, that’s what you’re saying.”
“Dickens was full of it, too. As are most authors. That’s why we call it fiction, Annabelle. But your life is not a fiction. I cannot, or at least should not, conjecture to show you what a life would be like for those whom you love if you were to choose to go to heaven, if you were to move on. What I can tell you is that I once made a bargain with a young man who was caught in Guinee, a man who hoped you would save him. And I promised him you would, though not in the way he believed.”
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