Shaded Vision
Page 18

“You’ve done this so many times…does it get easier?” I glanced over at Wylie, who didn’t seem to have a clue that within a few minutes, he’d be dead and his soul cast into oblivion to be cleansed and returned to the primal pool. Part of me wanted to warn him, to give him a chance to right whatever wrongs he’d done, but that wasn’t an option.
“No. But each time, I understand my place in the world a little bit more. And so, in time, will you. Do you remember the rites I taught you?” She waited patiently, not pushing me.
I nodded, slowly. I remembered them, but it hadn’t fully registered that I’d actually have to use them. Now, there was no avoiding the reality: I was a Death Maiden and while I was still training, my days of standing by as an observer were over. I couldn’t very well wear the title without earning it.
“Yeah, I do. You said I have to take his soul through mine?” I’d done this accidentally a couple of times, but never deliberately.
She nodded. “Grandmother Coyote decreed that you need to do this.”
When the Hags of Fate made a suggestion, it was an order. Even if you were a god. Or a Death Maiden. I steadied myself, running through the steps, until I was sure I remembered their order. As I stared at Wylie, I tried to see him as something other than a friendly acquaintance. If he truly did have secrets and had upset the balance, maybe there was something I didn’t know that would make it easier. But the only way I’d find out would be to go through with the rite.
I looked over at Greta, who was watching me carefully. “This is a test, isn’t it?”
She shook her head. “No. If I were to test you, I’d make it a friend—someone dear to your heart. To see if you could go through with it.”
“Have you ever had to…collect the soul of a friend?” Our eyes met and I held her fast. Wanted to see her reaction.
She gazed steadily at me, and then slowly blinked. “Yes.” Her voice was a whisper on the wind, the rattle of dried corn husks. “My own mother.”
I lowered my head. I couldn’t imagine doing that. “I’m sorry. I…that would be hard to bear.”
“It was difficult. I learned too much about her. Things I didn’t want to know. But she went on to the afterlife, and I was able to let go after a while. It helped that she was beloved by many, and that her secrets weren’t the kind to make me sorry she’d birthed me.”
Greta put her hand on my arm. “You will not be sorry you do this. And truly, you have no choice. You are the Master’s servant. He has appointed this task to you—and Grandmother Coyote asked for you to do it.”
I straightened my shoulders. It was time to man up.
Motioning to Greta, I said, “I’m ready. When…?”
I had to wait until he was on the verge of death before I sucked out his soul. I could do so several ways. With the courageous and those who deserved a hero’s death, it would be with a kiss. With Wylie, it would be different.
She closed her eyes briefly. “You have…when his clock strikes three twelve, his heart will fail, and you will collect his soul.” She motioned to the mantel, where a chiming clock sat. It read three ten.
I prepared myself, standing beside him, waiting. He had no clue I was here, waiting. He had no knowledge, no sense that he was about to die. As I stared down at him, trying to corral my emotions, I felt a spark flare from deep within. There it was—the trigger that Greta had taught me to look for.
It started as a small flicker, but I fanned it to life, nurtured it, coaxed it out and quickly, the flames ignited to a bonfire. When I looked at my target again, Wylie no longer resembled the man I knew, but instead a beacon, ready to explode. The urge to gather him up, to pull him to me was so strong that I had to hold back as I hovered on the edge of time, waiting for the clock to count down his last seconds.
And then, he suddenly clutched at his left arm, and—with a frightened look—stared directly at me.
“Delilah—” His whispered plea was his last, as he began to leave his body. Before he could run, I reached out and touched him, sucked his memories deep into my own. We vanished into a field of mist and shadow, where the moon watched from high over head, a sliver of first light.
And then…
Flash. Wylie sat in a room, meeting with other coyote shifters, only I sensed they weren’t from the local community. They sat around a table that looked oddly familiar. I’d seen it somewhere before. I racked my brain but couldn’t place it, though I’d seen the carved patterns on the edge before.
Then, the door opened and Van and Jaycee entered, with another man—large, bald, and dangerous looking. A Vin Diesel look-alike but with a surly sneer instead of a sexy smile. He was wearing a pendant with a stunning sapphire in the center. One of the spirit seals. He fingered it and I could feel the clash of energy waging as he summoned a dark spirit through it…
Flash. An ancient man, holding his hands up as an explosion of fire came racing out of his fingers to destroy an entire village. As the smoke roiled off the burning buildings, the screams of women and children echoed through the ash-filled sky. Flames leaped from rooftop to rooftop, catching on the thatch as the village burned to the ground. The sorcerer began to laugh as people ran into the streets, burning like torches. A little girl looked up at him and held out her hands before he engulfed her in another wave of flame.
Flash. Wylie, handing a thick bundle of cash over to Van and Jaycee along with a piece of paper. I leaned closer and saw the schedule for the Supe Community Council printed on it. A sick grin sidled across his face as he said, “Stupid idiots will find out why the Koyanni are nothing to mess with.”
Flash. Wylie, meeting with a man who looked as old as time, and as maddened. He looked crafty, and the smell of death and decay hung heavy around his shoulders.
Flash. Wylie, with a woman, beating her senseless as she cowered, trying to fend off his blows. As she crawled toward the door, he gave her a swift kick. “Get out of here, you bitch. And take your fucking rugrat with you.” And then I saw the little boy standing in the corner, thumb in his mouth, crying as he watched, eyes wide.
Flash. Wylie, with Van and Jaycee again, talking to someone who was so pale he looked sick. And then the man laughed, and a flash of fangs told me he was a vampire. He pushed a picture of Trixie over to Wylie, who nodded.
Sickened, I slammed the door to his memories. I’d seen enough. Wylie turned to me as I laid hold of his collar and lifted him off his feet.
“What are you doing to me? What’s going on?” Fear flashed in his eyes, but I didn’t care.
“Fires of the void, come forth to my bidding. Cleanse this soul and pass it through your center.” As he struggled, a roar from the skies echoed through the swirling mist, and a wave, riding the night wind, came rushing down to clamor against us. I held him fast against the raging gale.
Wylie screamed, his cries echoing in the night, but a sudden thirst for justice rolled through me and I let out a laugh that reverberated through the night.
“Scream as loud as you want. No one can help you. Wylie Smith, the Hags of Fate have sealed your destiny. Prepare for oblivion.”
The wave of fire rushed over him, a purple flame burning through his essence, clearing the energy and rendering it harmless. As understanding washed through his eyes, he let out one last scream and then, with a final roar, the flames reduced his soul to ashes and swept them up, carrying them away.
“I am the instrument of judgment,” I whispered, reaching toward the sky as Wylie Smith vanished forever from the eternal cycle—his consciousness gone forever. His soul was harmless energy floating forever in the great pool from which all life sprang.
As I lowered my hands, I blinked and was standing back next to Greta. I turned to her and she smiled softly.
“Well done, my dear.”
There were so many questions I wanted to ask, and yet I couldn’t phrase them. I didn’t even know if I really understood what they were.
“Why didn’t we end up in the training garden—where you took Ronald Wyndham Niece to deliver his soul to Valhalla?” I looked around. We were still standing in Wylie’s house, albeit on the astral level. The first time Greta had come for me we’d been in a wild, forested grove with a training circle made of bronze, covered in magical symbols.
“Because that place is reserved for those who deserve a beautiful transition. Who deserve a hero’s farewell. There is a darker place where we can take the worst of the worst, but since this was your first official solo, I decided to make it easier on you. The next training session, I will take you through all the places we collect our souls and teach you how to get there.”
She stood back. “Do you understand why you were assigned to him?”
I closed my eyes, the kaleidoscope of images from Wylie’s mind running through my head. I’d thought him a nice, gentle person, and totally misjudged him. He’d been a traitor, a spy…and he’d helped kill Exo and the others. He may not have planted the explosive, but he’d been as responsible for their deaths as if he’d tossed the canya himself.
Don’t forget the spirit seal… a little voice whispered inside me, and I focused on the image of the man wearing the sapphire. The seventh spirit seal. I tried to zoom in on his face, to remember every nuance so I could tell the others. The spirit seal was out there and in the possession of someone dangerous. And he knew how to use it.
“I have to get back.” I turned to Greta. “Am I done here?”
She nodded. “Walk softly, Delilah. You are coming to a crossroads. As much as I enjoy your company, I’d rather see you still on the living side of the veil than on my side. Get ready, because the train is rolling down the tracks.”
I sucked in a deep breath, feeling a heavy weight descend on my shoulders. “I know. I can feel it headed my way.” I paused. “Is Arial around?” Even though I wanted to get back to my body so I could wake up and tell the others about the spirit seal, I missed my twin. It had been a while since I’d seen her, at least in a form in which we could talk.
“Arial is off prowling in her leopard form. She likes to go out and run on the spirit realm, around the grounds of Haseofon.” Greta paused, then touched my shoulder lightly. “Your sister is as overjoyed as you are to be able to meet and speak. At some point, she would like to talk to Camille and Menolly. But it would not work for your sister Menolly. To come to Haseofon, either one must come in spirit—and vampires cannot travel out of their bodies in spirit without being yanked out, and then they are only given a time to walk free—or one must journey in the body, and we cannot have a vampire in the halls. It is forbidden.”
I frowned. “That doesn’t seem…”
“Fair? Not all of life is just, or fair, nor understandable. The Master forbids it; therefore we obey. There is no discussion on the issue.”
“And Arial cannot take human form out of Haseofon?” I already knew the answer but asked anyway.
Greta shook her head. “I’m sorry, but no. Now, go back to your body, my dear, and attend to your duties.”
She vanished and I found myself racing back through the streets, back to where I’d started from. As the city skyline began to lighten, I saw a veiled shadow ahead and instinctively dove for it. As I entered the smoke, I fell into my body and sat up with a start, looking around.
Shade was asleep beside me, but he stirred. As I propped myself up against the pillows and headboard, I thought about what I’d just done. Wylie was dead. Verdict: heart attack. But his soul was gone, forever. I’d sent him to the final death, and there would be no return.
A fierce sense of pride sprang up. I’d done my duty without flinching. And Greta had been proud of me. She’d also given me valuable information. Now I knew for sure Van and Jaycee were behind this. The bald man wasn’t Telazhar, that I could tell from watching the sorcerer destroy the village. But he was in possession of a spirit seal, which made him terribly dangerous.
As I climbed out of bed and slipped into a pair of sweatpants and a tank, Shade woke. He blinked, sitting up.
“Is everything okay?”
“No. We need to wake the others. I have information and we need to act on it as soon as possible.” I motioned to the door. “I’m heading downstairs. Get dressed and follow. If you could wake Camille and her men, I’ll see if Menolly’s still up. And someone needs to head out to the studio. This is an all-hands-on-deck meeting.”
Shade slid out from beneath the covers and quietly began to dress as I left the room. I scrambled down the stairs, glancing out the window. Dawn would break in a while, but Menolly would still be up for a couple hours. She wasn’t in the living room or parlor—which meant Nerissa had gone back to her condo for the night instead of staying over—so I opened the bookcase in the kitchen and raced down the stairs to Menolly’s lair.
“Menolly? Are you down here?”
“What’s up, Kitten? Is everything okay?” Menolly was sitting on her bed, in a silk bathrobe, reading a book. I glanced at the title. A History of Vampire Mythology. She closed it, dog-earing one of the corners as I peeked around the partition that separated her sleeping area from the sitting area.
“Yes. No. Just come upstairs, would you? I’ve got some important information on the bombing.”
She set the book on her nightstand and crossed the room to my side, looping her arm through my elbow. “Did they strike again?”
“No, not yet. But with what I know, my guess is they’ll continue on until we catch them. They’re out for vengeance.”
We headed up the stairs and back into the kitchen. Shade was standing there. We’d given up hiding the entrance to Menolly’s lair from family members—everybody had guessed it by now. But we’d insisted on secrecy and had installed a heavy-duty lock on the door, which Smoky had replaced with a reinforced steel one. Now, when Menolly slept, only Camille, I, and Iris could unlock the gate to her world.