The DarkWorld SoulTracker Series Box Set Vol II

by T. G. Ayer

  Moments later he brought it over with a glass of water and a palm full of pills, none of which I recognized. “Did you rob a drugstore or something?” I asked softly as I took the pills and swallowed them down.

  “Something like that,” Drake said again, his lips lifting in a smirk.

  I lay back and gave him a grateful smile as he settled beside my mattress.

  “Get some sleep,” he said, but my eyelids had already begun to grow heavy.

  Within seconds I was asleep.

  Chapter 24

  It seemed my sleep was cursed.

  I slid into a world that resembled the ether, and in the dream, I was searching. For Ari and Samuel, for Saleem and for myself. The ether was dark and scary, nothing like the place I knew and loved.

  Inside my stomach twisted with fear, a fear that seemed unfounded and yet I was constantly turning and searching the distance as if something terrible was coming, something unavoidable.

  And then in the distance, the darkness melted away and the figure of a man came into view.

  I ran toward him, the distance seeming to never close. Until the moment when I’d given up, lost all hope of reaching him in this endless race to nowhere.

  Saleem was strung up, hands manacled, bare chest riddled with bloody scars. His head hung forward, and his ribs protruded, as if he was slowly wasting away. My heart thudded faster, and I moved closer. The space became clearer, and though I’d expected to see a cell with stone walls and a filthy rat-infested floor, I was surprised as the rest of the room came into view.

  He was manacled to the wall of a beautifully appointed bedroom. Its walls were covered in an intricately patterned wallpaper, the drapes were a luxurious gold and purple while the floor was carpeted in what looked like handwoven tapestry.

  To the left of what I could see was the corner of a large bed, head- and footboard both a deep mahogany color. He was being kept in a bedroom?

  Was this my weird imagination or was what I was seeing real?

  Saleem lifted his head and searched the room as if his slumber had been disturbed by something. I waited, breath contained, until his eyes met mine and they both widened. Saleem glanced around the room, concern filling his face.

  He looked worried—perhaps that I’d be discovered by his captors—but he didn’t look afraid.

  I moved closer, afraid that if he spoke too loudly he’d be heard and his guards would come rushing in. The closer I got the more clear his wounds became, and it was obvious what he’d been through.

  “What happened?” I whispered, blinking back tears. I couldn’t bear to see him this way, but I knew I had to be strong.

  “He was turned. I got to him, tried to convince him to leave with me. I thought if I could get him away from their influence, I’d gain some footing, maybe bring him back to Mother so she could talk some sense into him.”

  “Rizwan betrayed you?”

  Saleem nodded. “He agreed to come, and we arranged a time for me to get him, but there were guards hidden in the room.”

  “Was he turned, or is he being controlled?”

  Saleem gave a short shake of his head. “I couldn’t tell. Maybe he’s being controlled. It certainly didn’t seem like him. Riz has always been the peacemaker. I’m not sure how he condones…this.” Saleem didn’t need his hands to indicate his current situation. I could see it all too clearly for myself.

  “What do you need?” I asked softly. “What can I do?” I wanted to touch him, to hold him. But more than that I wanted to unshackle him, to take him back home.

  He shook his head as if he could read my intentions in my eyes. “I have to stay here until I am sure of his loyalties.”

  I nodded, my jaw tightening. “So what do you want me to do?” I knew my tone was a little harsh, but I didn’t care. I wanted to save him from this horror, and he was politely declining. Of course, it would piss me off.

  “There is a man, I don’t recognize him, but he appears to be whispering in Rizwan’s ear, directing his actions in an active fashion. He’s pretty blatant about it. I’m wondering if he is Omega’s tool. If it was someone I knew, one of the djinn, then I’d understand the relationship dynamic. But this man isn’t djinn.”

  “So, it’s as your mother suspected?” I asked, disappointment clouding my emotion. I’d hoped that Saleem would just have to come to Mithras and retrieve his brother; a simple search and rescue.

  Unfortunately, it seemed that Saleem’s life bore too many shades of similarity with mine.

  He nodded now. “Yeah. And I need a breakout. I can’t get out on my own, but I need a little more time to glean more information from them.”

  “So you want me to rescue you, but not right now?” I asked, smiling at the incongruity of it all.

  Saleem grinned, and I blinked at the sight of his mouth, the broken and bruised skin of his lips and his red-stained teeth. He’d been recently punched in the face. The sight of his injuries built up a seething fury within me. I wanted to lash out, to hurt everyone who’d been part of Saleem’s torture.

  I had to force myself to concentrate when I realized he was speaking.

  “There’s a possibility that Riz is being controlled by someone, that his mind or memories have been altered, so he recalls things differently.”

  I nodded. “Like with Logan?”

  Saleem gave me an odd glance and then nodded. “Just like that.”

  “Do you want me to contact Darcy?”

  Saleem nodded. “Yeah. It’s possible someone on her level has done this.”

  “What if she was the one?”

  “Then she’ll understand the reasons and the ramifications. Darcy works for Sentinel now, and what she’s done in the past she did under duress. This could be one of those incidents.”

  I sighed softly. “She’ll undo it?”

  Saleem nodded. “More than likely. I’ve seen her undo her mindmelds before. If she thinks it’s for the right reasons, she will.”

  I straightened. “Fine. I have a few things to do, and then I’ll come for you. When do you need me to bring the cavalry?”

  “In a few days? Maybe a week?”

  I nodded and found that before I could say anything more the vision of him began to fade away.

  * * *

  I woke with one thing on my mind. Saving Saleem. But I paused too, as I was all too well aware of my condition. I was injured, the target of a variety of bad-guys, still persecuted by my poltergeist. The weaker I got, the less likely it became that I would be useful to Saleem at all.

  To save Saleem, I needed to be free of the sangoma’s spell.

  To save Samuel, I needed to be free of the sangoma’s spell.

  I sighed softly and opened my eyes.

  Things were different now. As if I saw my life and my future with a different set of eyes. Emotions aside, I could see where all my actions of the past had brought me to this point in time, the moment when I stood staring my persecution in the face and giving it a gigantic fuck you.

  It was then that I realized something.

  It occurred to me slowly, like a curtain being lifted from a stage with only one item on it, blurred at first and then slowly becoming clearer.

  Ever since I’d come to New Orleans, the tokoloshe had ceased its hauntings. I frowned, flicking back through my memory to check if I could possibly be mistaken and I confirmed I wasn’t confused.

  There had been no unusual paranormal activity in the loft nor anywhere else after the whole Herbs & Things incident.

  How peculiar.

  Not that I was complaining though.

  The longer I spent beyond the control and persecution of the poltergeist the stronger I became. The stronger I became, the easier it would be to resist the evil spirit, to fight back hard.

  And I needed to be strong for what lay before me. But first things first.

  I had a witch-doctor to eliminate.

  Chapter 25

  The sound of boots on wood drew my attention as Drake paced th
e floor so much I was certain if there were neighbors downstairs they’d be calling noise control soon enough.

  “Would you stop with the pacing. You’re giving my headache a headache.”

  Drake stopped in his tracks and turned to face me, but I didn’t give him a chance to speak. “Where were you?”

  His forehead scrunched. Admittedly it was a very broad question, but I knew he knew what I was talking about.

  After a moment, he sighed. “So I went off half-cocked. But I did find something.”

  I lifted a brow and waited as he squatted in front of his rucksack. He slid an object from his bag, his actions so filled with wariness that my stomach tightened. Enclosed in a tattered tapestry wrap—that was almost falling apart—was an ancient book. Bound in roughly hewn leather, covers frayed at the edges, pages yellowed and curling with age, it looked like it was about to disintegrate at the seams.

  The very sight of it made my skin crawl.

  “What have you done?” I asked, my voice a low whisper filled with fear.

  “What?” he asked, hesitating as he set the book on the floor.

  “Take that thing out of here,” I said softly, forcing my heart rate to remain at a level that wouldn’t mean I’d pass out before I got Drake to take the book away.

  My skin crawled with magic from the book as it flowed toward me, tickling my skin and skimming across my face.

  Drake hurried to pick the book up when I grabbed his arm. “Wait.”

  He frowned but I didn’t care that I was giving him conflicting instructions.

  “Fetch Natasha. Now.”

  “What?”

  “Drake!” I screamed at him, all pain forgotten and he faded away almost instantly.

  Seconds later, he reappeared with Natasha who was still looking confused, surprised and blushing a little. So, this was definitely their first encounter since he’d arrived.

  His arm was wrapped around her waist and curled at her hip. A very familiar grip if you asked me. I had lots to ask Drake, but not at the present.

  I waved at the book as Natasha stepped out of Drake’s grip.

  “Shavallan,” she said in a low voice.

  “Please tell me that’s the witchy equivalent of shit.”

  Natasha snorted. “No. That’s what it’s called. This is the Book of Shavallan. It’s an ancient dark magic grimoire.”

  “Not the one…”

  Natasha shook her pale head. “No. This one is a million times more dangerous.”

  I felt the blood drain from my face as she spoke. “What do we do with it?”

  “We need an Immortal’s help for this.”

  “Jacinta?” Natasha nodded, but I frowned and said, “She’s been AWOL since that debacle with Storm.”

  The witch stepped closer to the book which was now giving off a vibration, one that emitted a low-frequency sound that was making my ears ring.

  “Natasha?” Seriously. I just wanted her to get on with it and get the book the hell away from me.

  “Yes, Melisande. I know.” Natasha closed her eyes, and I assumed she was calling the Titan Jacinta Carnarvon.

  The last time I’d seen Jess was before Storm had been taken away to the Immortal High Council to be dealt with.

  After what felt like too many god-awful seconds had passed, the Titan appeared, the air ringing with the sound of her presence.

  To say that Jacinta was beautiful was an understatement. She was the epitome of physical beauty as well as a purity of heart that I’d never seen before.

  Humans, whether blessed with magic or not, were frail creatures, persecuted by the demons of their minds and hearts. Misunderstandings, envy, loneliness, love, power, hate; the mortal mind was filled with all manner of obstacles facing a person whose only deliberate intention was to live a good life.

  Titans were the embodiment of such perfection, entirely selfless beings intent on doing good for the sake of good, with no expectation, no desire to benefit from such acts.

  And Jacinta was no different.

  Just her mere presence calmed me somewhat. Enough that I could take a deep breath and pull a measure of peace over me.

  She gave me a soft smile. “Hello, Mel. I’d ask you how you are, but the answer to that is clear to me.”

  “If not for the scary book over there, I’d wonder if I should be flattered.” My lips twisted into a smile and Natasha glanced up at me and rolled her eyes.

  I stood aside, my fingers fisted despite my ruined palms, and watched as Jacinta crouched before the book. She was dressed in black silk pants and a flowy cream blouse. Elegance personified and fitting for a Titan.

  “I’ll take it somewhere safe where it won’t be able to hurt anyone.”

  “Like Storm?” I asked, the words slipping from my mouth before I could stop them.

  Natasha and Drake were both staring at me as if I’d said something wrong. But, like a lot of people I knew, I needed closure on the whole Storm-actually-being-the-god-Ares-and-wanting-the-end-of-all-humanity episode. Jacinta had taken him away, and nobody had a clue as to what had happened.

  Jacinta got to her feet and smiled serenely. “Two things,” she said, her musical voice ringing in my brain.

  “Two things?” I murmured as the Titan came to stand before me.

  “The Immortal High Council came to a decision a few days ago on how to proceed with Ares’ sentencing. As the god of war, pain is nothing to him which means the circles of Greco-Roman Hell will not be considered sufficient punishment. He’d been punished before, sent to this realm to do what human’s call ‘community service’ but that didn’t succeed either.”

  “And people were killed,” I murmured.

  Jacinta nodded gravely. “Which is why the High Council took it extremely seriously when devising a fitting punishment. After much deliberation, they have decided to send Ares to Hell. After much discussion with Hera, we’ve come to the conclusion that the best punishment is the two things he’s hated for most of his existence. Cerberus and getting dirty.”

  I snorted. “Wait, don’t tell me. He’s cleaning out Big Dog’s cage?”

  Jacinta smiled. “And taking care of mealtime.”

  “Oh, he’s gonna love that.” I smirked. Storm—aka Ares—had always been beautifully groomed and manicured, not a hair out of place. Then I frowned. “Though, I’m not so sure the punishment fits the crime.”

  “Short of death—which would be well-nigh impossible to execute—they were at a loss. Incarceration in the mortal world is impossible.”

  “And Hades will hold him?”

  Jacinta nodded. “Hades was created to hold the great and ancient Titans. It can hold a mere god or two.”

  I smiled. “Is this common knowledge? I mean, are you telling people so that it will become publicly known?”

  Jacinta shook her head. “We’ll be informing the people who were involved. Most people still don’t know Storm was Ares, so perhaps it’s best to let the general public believe that Storm left without a forwarding address.”

  “A lot of people will be hurt by his disappearance. They’ll need answers.”

  “People are resilient. They will get over grief, especially if they have the support of their community. What people will find harder to get over is a betrayal by the gods. That is something people may never recover from.”

  I sighed. “I see your point. And I guess I’m going to have to be satisfied with the image of Ares cleaning giant-sized dog poop for the rest of his existence.”

  Jacinta nodded, but her smile seemed to have wavered a little.

  I took a step toward the book, then glanced back at her. “Oh, what’s number two?”

  Jacinta’s smile disappeared as she eyed the book. “Number two is that you’re going to have to get stronger fast.”

  “Why?” I stared at her, still feeling the pull of the dark magic on my bones.

  “Because the grimoire can’t be moved.”

  “What?”

  Jacinta’s expression
was grave as she said, “Its magic has made it immovable. Until the spell is broken, the book is staying exactly where it is.”

  Chapter 26

  I rested against the kitchen counter, staring at the Shavallan, something in me feeling sick at the very sight of it.

  Drake had gone off for supplies, claiming that if we were supposed to stick around and babysit a damned book he was going to do it in more comfort than mattresses on the floor and paper crockery.

  Natasha sat on the floor beside me, cross-legged and eyes closed as she concentrated on strengthening the wards. She’d been at it for half an hour and finally exhaled and opened her eyes.

  She got to her feet and glanced at the book.

  “Don’t worry. It’s still there.”

  She lifted an eyebrow. “The Shavallan is nothing to joke about.”

  “Why? Can it understand me?” I asked, matching her raised eyebrow.

  Natasha sighed. “I won’t say that it doesn’t,” she said turning away and walking toward the window.

  “What?” I snapped, pushing off the counter and following her. “How can it understand me? And how is it that it decided to stick itself to my floor when Drake so easily removed it from its owner’s possession?”

  “Some say the Shavallan was first created after the sacrifice of three powerful witches.”

  “Yeah, that I can believe. I saw the leather.”

  “Can you tell?”

  “That it’s human skin?” I asked. When she nodded, I shook my head. “I don’t think your average passerby will be able to tell, but I sensed it, which is why I wondered if that was possible. So for me, it was instinct and the power of deduction. Drake didn’t have a clue.”

  Natasha nodded. “Some say those three witches are still bound to the book and that they show their preferences for owners.”

  I made a face and gave the book a distasteful glare. “Are you trying to tell me that the book chose me?” I shuddered.

  Natasha nodded, her face strained. “From my understanding, that’s exactly what it appears to be. And until you accept, or destroy their power, you won’t be able to move the book.”