Darkness Unbound
Page 5

“Your father is a former priest. As such, he has some power over the gates and their locks.”
My frown deepened. “I’m still not seeing the problem here.”
“Your father,” he said, slowly and somewhat heavily, “is thought to be working on a device to permanently close the gates to all things that come through.”
Confusion swirled through me. “But that would be a good thing, wouldn’t it? It would save you the hassle of hunting down the bad things that break through, at the very least.”
He was giving me that look again—the one that suggested I was an idiot.
“The problem with shutting the gates permanently is the fact that it would not only stop things from breaking through, but also prevent things from leaving.” He paused, his oddly colored eyes searching mine and leaving a strange sensation of dread stirring in the pit of my stomach. “Which means no soul could move on. And that would be a disaster that could destroy us all.”
Chapter Three
I STARED AT HIM FOR SEVERAL MINUTES, THE implications running through my mind.
The dead permanently caught in this world? A flood of ghosts who were both angry and confused, never able to move on and not understanding why? That would certainly be hell on earth for those of us able to see and feel them.
But a disaster that could destroy us all? Wasn’t that overstating it a little?
“Your expression suggests you don’t understand the true danger,” he said. “But think on it. If souls cannot move on, they cannot be reborn into new flesh. Where would that leave the human—and nonhuman—races?”
“Up shit creek without a paddle, if your expression is anything to go by,” I said. “But by saying that, you’re suggesting no new souls are ever created. And yet the population of the world continues to grow, so that can’t be true.”
He nodded gravely and entwined his fingers, oddly reminding me of a professor I’d had—both as a teacher and as a lover—in college. They’d both had the same sort of grave, all-knowing air.
Although it has to be said that the professor had never been as hot as this reaper, in clothes or out.
“New lives—and new souls—are created daily, true, but that doesn’t change the fact that the majority of these new beings contain old souls.”
“Is there a finite number of new souls?” I asked curiously. “And is there a limit to the number of people the earth can carry? I can’t imagine it’s the master plan of whoever is in charge to keep adding souls until our world collapses under the weight of us all.”
He smiled. Once again it was merely a quirk of the lips, but my pulse nevertheless tripped happily at the sight.
“There are always limits,” he said, his deep voice low, creating nearly as much havoc as his almost-smile. “That is why there have been—and always will be—natural disasters. Once a limit has been reached, the clock is reset.”
It was a hard statement to believe and yet, if you were inclined to believe in a higher power looking over us all, then it wasn’t such a big leap.
“I still can’t see how the gates shutting would be such a disaster. I mean, people would still be born.”
“Yes, but if no souls could move on and be reborn, then the majority of the newborns would be little more than mindless flesh.”
I stared at him for a moment, for the first time actually taking in the implication of his words. And I sure as hell didn’t want to believe them. Surely if there was someone in charge upstairs, they wouldn’t be that cruel. “Zombies?” I said incredulously. “You’re saying they’d be zombies?”
He hesitated. “No. Zombies are flesh brought back to life by the deadly desires of others. A body born without a soul is little more than a slab of meat. It is incapable of thought, emotion, or feeling. It has no needs or desires. It hasn’t even got the will to live.”
Vegetables, not zombies, something within whispered. I shuddered, and tried not to imagine the hundreds of babies lying in ICUs all over the world, their tiny bodies being kept alive by machines but never becoming capable of knowing love or life.
It made me want to throw up.
But bad situation or not, it really didn’t make his following me any easier to swallow.
“Look, I hope like hell you track down my father and stop him, but I really think you’re tackling it from the wrong angle. He’s never had anything to do with me, so why on earth would he want to do so now, when he’s about to embark on a course of action that could endanger all that I hold dear?”
He shrugged again, but I had a suspicion that the nonchalance was faked and he wasn’t telling me all he knew. And that his reasons for following me were far more complicated than what he was saying. Though I wasn’t entirely sure why I felt this. It wasn’t as if his countenance or body language had changed in any way.
“As I said earlier, him contacting you is only a possibility, but one we must explore.”
“So, you’ve explored it, and I’ve denied it. What happens next?”
He raised an eyebrow—another ever-so-elegant gesture. “Nothing. I will continue to watch you until we are sure there is no likelihood of him contacting you.”
“I’m not really keen on the idea of a reaper shadowing me day and night.”
Especially if he remained in this form. I might not have a werewolf’s troublesome, moon-controlled hormones, but I was still female, and a good-looking male could affect me as easily as the next woman. Even if that good-looking male wasn’t exactly flesh and blood.
“It is not by desire that I do this, trust me.”
The edge in his voice had curiosity stirring again. “Then don’t. It’s not like I’m going to tell anyone.”
“That is not the point or the problem. The duty has been assigned to me, and I must comply.”
“Why?”
He looked at me like I was being a simpleton. “Because it is my duty.”
“And duty is everything?”
“Without it, chaos reigns. Which is why we must stop your father. He threatens the true order of things.”
Whose true order? I wanted to ask, but kept the question to myself. I very much suspected that it wasn’t one he’d be willing to address.
Besides, did I really want to know the answer to a question like that?
“But what about the little girl? If you’re following me about, how can you also track down whoever stole her soul?”
“You must sleep. I will use that time to hunt. And others will hunt when I’m unable to.”
“And if you find the thing responsible?”
“I will kill it, of course.”
“So sending it back through the gates is not an option?”
“For the Mijai, no. As I said, we are not gatekeepers. Whatever is doing this either broke through or was brought through the portals to get here. Besides, if it was powerful enough to break through one time, what makes you think it will not do so again?”
“The fact that you lot will be waiting?”
He didn’t immediately answer, studying me for several seconds before asking, “Why would you worry about the fate of whatever stole that child’s soul?”
“I’m not. You can chop it into little bits and serve it to the nearest rat for all I care. I just wasn’t sure if that was your intention or not.”
“As I said, the Mijai are not soul guides. We are hunters. Killers.”
And I had one intending to follow me everywhere. Joy.
“So how are you going to stop this thing from killing again?”
He shrugged. “We may not. There were few clues left in the young girl’s room and no trace to follow.”
“Trace?”
He hesitated. “Dark energy has a certain resonance. Often it leaves a trace—a scent, if you will—that we can use to track the perpetrators down. But whatever is behind this theft left no such trace.”
Fay Kingston’s comments echoed briefly through my mind and I said, “There may not be any trace you can follow now, but the thing did have a presence. The mother mentioned it.”
His gaze seemed to sharpen. “What did she say?”
“She felt something cold and evil in the room that made her skin crawl.” I hesitated. “She said that reading from the Bible made it flee, but personally I doubt that. The thing remained long enough to steal Hanna’s soul.”
Something akin to disappointment crossed his features, though the expression was so fleeting I might well have been imagining it. “The Bible would only affect those beings who were religious during their time here, and her description gives us no real clue to follow. Could you not question her further?”
I shook my head. “I didn’t tell her Hanna’s soul had been stolen. I told her she’d moved on peacefully.”
That seemed to surprise him, though again, his expression didn’t change. It was something I felt rather than saw. “Why would you lie?”
“Because the truth would only cause her more pain. Losing a child is enough to cope with.”
“But it is the truth. That is always the correct choice, whether painful or not.”
I smiled at the simplicity of such a statement. “It would be nice if things were that straightforward, but in this world, they rarely are.”
“Hence the need for the dark path.”
“So all of us liars go to hell?”
Again the ghost of a smile touched his lips. “To repeat your own words, it would be nice if things were that straightforward.”
“It’s just as well that they’re not. Otherwise, hell would be one crowded place.”
“The way this world of yours works, it certainly would.” He pushed back his chair and rose, drawing my gaze up his long, magnificent length. “If by chance you are contacted by your father when I’m not on watch, will you contact me?”
“And how am I supposed to do that? I’m presuming reapers don’t carry cell phones around.”
“That would hardly be practical when we are not often of this world or flesh.”
A smile touched my lips. Again he didn’t seem to get the sarcasm, but I guess a being that was more energy than flesh—and who spent most of his time walking the twilight realm—didn’t have much call or experience with emotion of any kind.
“Then how am I supposed to contact you?”
“Simply call my name. I have been tuned to your Chi, and will hear your summons.”
So not only did I have a reaper following me about, but he’d been tuned to my Chi. Or life energy, as Ilianna preferred to call it. This day was going from bad to worse.
“And your name is …?”
“Azriel.”
I snorted softly. “Even I know that Azriel is the generic name all reapers go by.”
“It may be generic, but when you say it, you will be summoning me.”
“Because you’ve been tuned to me?”
“Yes.”
Great. Not. “Do you have another name?”
He hesitated. “Yes, but that is private. No guide or Mijai will ever tell you his true name.”
“Why?”
“Because names are things of power, and to give one freely would be placing yourself in another’s control.”
“So why even give yourselves a true name?”
“Having a family in which all are called Azriel would get a little confusing.”
Meaning reapers had family units? Interesting, given that the Aedh didn’t. “So where are you off to now, Azriel, if you’ve been assigned to follow me?”
“I will retreat to a viewing distance. It would be better for us both.”
It would be better for us both if he wasn’t following me at all, but that didn’t seem to be an option right now. “So you’re just going to sit back and watch? You’re not going to do anything else?”
“I am not here to interfere with your life or anything that happens to you,” he said softly. “I merely wait to see if your father will contact you.”
For how long? I wondered, but didn’t bother voicing the question simply because I doubted he would answer. “I’ll talk to you later, then.”
“Or not,” he said, and disappeared.
No one in the restaurant seemed to notice or care. He may have been visible to everyone, but there was obviously some sort of magic at work, because it was simply impossible for anyone to disappear in the middle of a crowded room like that and not have anyone notice.
I rose and headed out of the restaurant. It was still raining, so I flicked the collar of my jacket up and ran for the underground parking garage. After finding the ticket machine and paying, I headed for the stairs and walked down to sublevel two, my footsteps echoing sharply in the silence.
I’d parked my bike in the slots near the elevators, which were on the opposite side of the garage from the stairs. I waited for a car to cruise past, then stepped out, but as I walked through the half shadows, the awareness that I was not alone hit. Which, given this was a multistory underground parking lot, wasn’t exactly surprising. But the sense of wrongness that came with the realization was.
I glanced around. Cars were parked in silent rows and there was no one in immediate sight, walking either toward or away from them. The air was thick with the scents of dirt, oil, and exhaust fumes—aromas that seemed to be leaching from the concrete itself. There was nothing that suggested anything or anyone was near.
Yet someone was. The sensation of wrongness was getting stronger, crawling like flies across the back of my neck.
I’d lived with clairvoyance, warnings, and portents all my life. I wasn’t about to start ignoring them now.