Better off Dead Book Two

by Odette C. Bell

  I’d told myself that it was safer to just leave, but suddenly compulsion took hold of me – and fortunately it was not one that was being driven by the priests.

  “There’s no harm in checking it out,” I said in a stilted breath. “No one even knows you escaped Purgatory. They’ll have no way of figuring it out, anyway.” As I told myself that, my fear finally started to abate. Reluctantly, my heart pounding hard, I pushed back into the hospital.

  Again the hair on the back of my neck stood on end. This dense, flighty prickle race down my stomach, spreading as if I’d swallowed acid.

  I knew I had a unique opportunity. I didn’t know how long it would take until Hilliker and his men figured out that I wasn’t still in Purgatory. Perhaps they had some kind of enduring connection to me that would alert them. It was possible. But it would take a while. Which meant time was the only thing I had on my side.

  I desperately wanted to know what had happened to Sonos. His name – and enduring presence – kept repeating in my mind. I knew I couldn’t dare call on that snow globe, though. And if I tried to contact him by some other means, it wasn’t impossible that Hilliker’s priests would find out.

  So I was on my own.

  My hands continued to sweat as I walked through the halls. I didn’t bother to wipe them on my pants. I didn’t begrudge it, either. I hadn’t been able to sweat – or bleed – in Purgatory. I would take anything that proved I was no longer there.

  At first, I had no clue where I was going. Then, as I clutched my cross, I let my gut tell me what to do. I found myself heading down a broken corridor. As soon as I took the first step, my stomach clenched. This dense wave of nausea broke across me.

  Pressing the back of my hand against my mouth, I tried not to gag.

  I came across a room right at the end of the corridor. It was large. It had a domed glass ceiling that had broken down. It instantly reminded me of the place where Hilliker had taken me in Purgatory.

  Terror gripped me. I stared over at a metal hospital bed right underneath the broken glass window. Shards of it covered everything. So did murky puddles of rain – but fortunately they weren’t writhing with the Banished.

  It took me a long time to gather the gumption to push forward. As my boots crushed glass and old chunks of plaster under my feet, I made it over to the medical bed. With a shaking hand, I finally placed my fingers down on it. More flashes blasted through me. They were so strong and chaotic, it felt like I was back in Purgatory. Perhaps this was a dream, and I’d wake up to have ghost hands all around my throat.

  But the memory did not take me back there. I saw... as impossible as it sounded, I swore I saw the day I was being born. My mother, her brow slicked with sweat, her hair trailing in a messy knot down her back, screamed, the high-pitched wail so loud, it cracked the glass ceiling above.

  Doctors in medical gowns with black masks covering their mouths moved around her, even as magical light bled through the room.

  That light... it was exactly the same as my resurrection curse.

  As if that wasn’t enough, as she tilted her head back and screamed again, I saw my resurrection mark burn above her. It hovered in the air as if it was waiting for a place to land.

  I jolted back as my mind suddenly sprang back into the real world.

  Tears were already covering my cheeks. As I locked a hand on my mouth, I screamed in terror – my pitching cry tearing through the room.

  I immediately clamped my hand further over my mouth as I realized that I couldn’t afford to make a commotion. It wasn’t impossible that this broken-down hospital had other magical fiends in it. Considering its energy was as dark as it came, it would be a great place for budding magical dark arts practitioners to hang out.

  I really tried to control myself, but I couldn’t, and I started sobbing. Though I didn’t want to see that traumatic memory, at the same time I had to learn as much as I could. Reluctantly, I flattened my hand on the gurney once more. I closed my eyes.

  The memory expanded. I thought I saw a man standing by the open operating theater door. It wasn’t my father though.

  ... It was Hilliker. My dad was behind him, his shoulders hunched, his brow beaten and bloodied.

  I jolted again as I came back into the real world. This time it was so violent that I fell down to my knees.

  As I crammed my fingers harder over my lips, I shook. “What... what the hell was that?” I begged, but there was no one to answer my question.

  I didn’t wait anymore – I threw myself forward and flattened both my hands on that metal bed. I didn’t care that it was covered in broken glass. It could cut me – it wouldn’t matter. It could shred me to pieces, and it still wouldn’t matter. As long as even a little of me functioned, I would force myself to find out what this broken memory contained. But even as I closed my eyes, concentrated, and offered myself up to it, no more flashes of long-forgotten recollections resurfaced.

  “Come on,” I hissed as I flattened my hand against the dented metal.

  But no matter how hard I tried, the memories had dried up.

  I soon fell down to my knees, sobbing as I realized I wouldn’t be able to find out more.

  That thought had a chance to settle – then I forced myself to open my eyes. With one hand still flattened on the metal bed, I used it as purchase to rise. “No – there are other ways to find out what happened back then.”

  I thought of the box at my house. I also thought of the rest of this hospital. Presumably it would have records.

  My cheeks paled. “As would the orphanage.”

  A memory slammed into me. Quickly, I jerked a hand back and shoved it through into my subspace pocket. Though it was tempting to pull out the snow globe, I pushed it to the side as I grabbed the ledger I’d stolen from the mob vault room instead.

  It was heavy, and I’d hardly had a relaxing day. I pulled it out nonetheless and settled it down on the medical bed. I flicked toward the entry I’d seen earlier.

  I hadn’t had a chance to question Sonos about that mob yet. It would come. For now I needed to find out where they’d taken my adoption records.

  My whole life, I’d been waiting for someone to tell me what I was. Basically, I’d been waiting to find Sonos, wrap my hands around his throat, and force him to tell me everything. But I hadn’t been proactive. I could’ve gone back to the orphanage – I could’ve looked for my own adoption records. Instead, I’d sat there, convinced I was doing something when all I was really doing was giving in to my fear. The fact was, I’d never truly wanted to understand myself, had I? Because I’d always been afraid of what I would find out.

  All that ended right here, right now. I kept my finger on the entry in the ledger. Fortunately this was a thorough affair. Perhaps the mob had ultimately been run by a team of fastidious accountants, because there was everything I needed – from the team that had perpetrated the break-in, to where my adoption records were now being kept. As I let my fingernail slide across the page, I tapped it under the correct entry.

  “The German Vault Tunnels,” I whispered under my breath.

  They were an interconnected tunnel of vaults – just as the name described. They were not used by banks – though banks could rent the space if they thought it was necessary. They were ancient magical tunnels that had been built up over hundreds of years. They housed some of the most valuable things in all the world. And they were one of the most secure places in all the world, too, as a consequence.

  No one – no matter how powerful they were – just wandered in and stole something. They had so many security precautions – including an actual minotaur – that such a plan would get even Sonos killed.

  I shivered, a cold sweat slicking across my brow at that unpleasant thought.

  Perhaps it was smarter for me to head home. I still needed to access that box – but something told me that this was a better lead. I also wondered if Hilliker would be keeping an eye on my mansion. Though I would hope that he wouldn’t know where it
was, considering the number of Santini charms he’d bought and the sheer magic he was pumping into finding me, that was unlikely to be true. Heck, Sato, Barney, and that drunk pigeon knew where I lived – so it wouldn’t have taken Hilliker much to follow them.

  My mind was made up, anyway. I kept my finger underneath that entry, tapping the nail several times as if I was hammering fasteners into a coffin.

  And maybe I was. Because this plan was far more likely to get me killed than to answer my every question.

  I would not change my mind, though. I snapped the ledger shut, placed it back in my subspace pocket, shoved my hands into my jacket, and turned. I reached the door. I stopped. I stared at the position where I’d seen Hilliker in my memory. Though it was churlish and useless, I snapped a hand out and fastened it where his throat had been. There was nothing now but air, but that didn’t stop me from squeezing my fingers. “You’ve been haunting me my whole life, haven’t you? You waited for me. You’ve been planning this. So let me tell you what I’m planning,” I continued to speak to my imaginary Hilliker. “I will do everything in my power to take you down. I will banish you, just like your false god. And Hilliker?” I smiled. “I won’t hold back.”

  Chapter 11

  I was as careful as I possibly could be as I found a node and headed to Germany.

  I knew that people would be on the lookout for me. I changed my identity – or as much as I could. You could technically alter your appearance with magic. But if someone had an active track on you, it would be irrelevant. You could make yourself twice as tall, a different sex, and change your features completely, but you could not change your magic.

  That was a fact I reminded myself of as I shoved my hands deep into the pockets of my jacket. It was a long trench coat – because I was now tall – a good foot taller than I’d been previously. I was still a woman. I had bright blonde hair that trailed down my back. I wore expensive jewelry – and not all of it was fake. Weirdly, I carried around a few real rings, bracelets, and necklaces in my subspace pocket. They were to be used whenever I had to jazz my appearance up. Though most of the time I looked bedraggled – hence the fact that no one had wanted to let me into the light bar – when I had to, I could give myself a spit polish.

  I fingered my diamond ring, rolling it around my wedding finger. Because yeah, I was still wearing it. Though I hadn’t appreciated it, I’d been wearing it back in Purgatory, too. It, like the cross, had stayed with me, through thick and thin. To make the diamond ring stand out less, though, I distracted it – with more diamonds. I was practically dripping with them.

  I neared one of the main entrances to the vault tunnels. It was one of the most expensive, fancy buildings in downtown Berlin. Its architecture was resplendent, with these carved sandstone pillars outside leading up to a massive floor-to-ceiling door. It looked more like I was entering the gates of Rome. Which was fitting, because the underground vault tunnels had been around since then in some capacity. They’d moved across the world until they’d found their current home in Germany.

  I did not pause on the steps to catch my breath. They were covered with security. I didn’t just mean the very tall bouncers who stood either side of the magnificent door. I meant the invisible laser net. The magical detection force fields. The everything.

  As I’d said before, this place was one of the most secure locations on the face of the planet.

  ... And here I was, thinking I could break into it.

  I held my head up high as I reached the doors.

  “What is the purpose of your visit?” one of the bouncers asked. He was dressed in a long, red velvet jacket. If you thought that made him look as if he was out of some smokers’ lounge from the seventies, you were wrong. It was all in the way he held himself and his appreciably muscly form. It was also in the fact that a magical sword permanently hovered to his left, just within grip lest he needed to run someone through without pause.

  I withdrew my hands from my pockets, letting my bling sparkle. “I wish to make a deposit.”

  “What?”

  Reaching a hand back into my subspace pocket – and proving I was the kind of practitioner who could do so easily – I pulled out something I’d been keeping in there for years.

  It was an old incense burner. It had once belonged to a Japanese emperor – or at least the ghost of one. He’d been causing havoc in Southeast Asia. I’d dispatched him – and it had been one of the hardest things I’d ever done. I’d taken the opportunity to liberate this incense burner from his den.

  Though it could be dangerous to admit to the fact I owned this – as it could be traced back to me – no one would be able to tell which emperor this had belonged to specifically. It was relatively generic – in design at least. Its energy, however, was not.

  Magic coiled around it – this dense dark red.

  Several other patrons walked up behind me. They all gasped.

  The guard did not look impressed. To be fair, though this was a rare and valuable item, he would’ve seen far more amazing things in his time. He jammed a thumb toward the doors, and the other guard opened them. He didn’t even grunt even as he had to bodily shift those megalithic structures. They did not creak. The hinges didn’t even make a sound.

  I was instantly met by the insane sight of the foyer.

  It was massive. There were couches and chairs everywhere – there were even a few pop-up bars. At the end of the room, however, was a wall almost entirely made up of doors. They were stacked right next to each other with no room for hinges or the wall. At first count, there were hundreds of them, but I knew there would be thousands if not tens of thousands.

  They led to the various tunnels and the vault rooms below. Though I said below – that was an approximation of space. The vault tunnels were not literally under Berlin. They were in pocket space – one of the most sophisticated pocket space spells ever cast.

  “A concierge will attend to you shortly,” the bouncer said.

  I placed my incense burner back in my subspace pocket. Hopefully that would be the last time I’d have to bring it out. I didn’t want anyone inspecting it too closely.

  I didn’t have to wait particularly long. This was an efficient business, after all. A concierge walked up wearing that same red velvet jacket. Though this guy was nowhere near as large as the bouncer out front, he still wore it as if it was the greatest uniform in the world.

  And it was. Only truly strong practitioners could get a job here.

  He looked at me and nodded toward one of the doors. “I have been informed of your item. I can recommend several vaults. Come with me.”

  I nodded once then followed. All around me, other patrons were talking to other concierges. There were so many, I wondered if the whole city of Berlin had been emptied out.

  We stopped in front of the door. Sorry, a door. Now I was standing near the far wall, I saw that the doors stretched almost for eternity.

  “Once you have chosen the appropriate vault, I will give you a rundown of fees. You must pay upfront for 100 years. If you still remain living after that, the fees will be debited from your account – or magic supply – monthly.”

  As he said that, I was sure to keep my hands in my pockets. Like I’d said, I’d managed to change my identity. But the one thing about me I could never alter – other than my engagement ring – was the resurrection marks on my palms.

  I tried not to think of them too much lest I break out into a cold sweat. All I could see was my mother’s screaming form as the resurrection mark burned in the air above her.

  When I’d first described that scene, I’d said it had felt as if that mark had been waiting for a place to land. It had. And it had found that place in me.

  My marks became inexplicably itchy, and I rounded my hands into tighter fists as I shoved them harder into my pockets.

  The concierge withdrew a key from his pocket then pushed it into the door. A lock formed around it even though one had not been present previously.

 
There was no sound. There was barely any magic. The process was so efficient that not only was it seamless, but I couldn’t pick up any data. I needed to find out as much about the tunnels as I could if I had any hope of breaking into that mob’s vault and finding my orphanage records. But that was proven almost impossible.

  A bead of sweat almost slipped down my brow.

  This was suicide. I should’ve headed back home.

  “This way,” the concierge said politely. He strode ahead.

  A tunnel system appeared in front of us. It created itself as we took each step.

  As it constructed the walls and floor and ceiling, it barely made a sound. Tiles and plaster appeared out of little vents in the floor.

  The concierge strode ahead, never looking back once and never pausing, even as he stepped right onto the floor as it was being made underneath him.

  He obviously had utter confidence in this tunnel system and its magic.

  A sinking feeling plowed hard through my gut. This magic was utterly seamless. It was seriously powerful, too.

  Of course it is, girl, I admonished myself quickly. You were never going to have a chance of breaking in here.

  As my stomach kicked again, he stopped suddenly, pulled out the key from his pocket, and seemingly jammed it into the middle of the air, but as soon as it was locked in place, a door formed around it. He twisted the key, and the door opened. He walked inside a plush vault room.

  It was exactly the kind of vault you would see in a bank. It was large and spacious.

  He ushered me in. I followed, my heels clicking, my hands still clenched in my pockets.

  “This is a level III vault – which should be appropriate for your item. As you can see, it is spacious in case you have any further items of equal worth to add to your collection in the future.”

  I nodded at it. “What else do you have?”

  “Just this way.”

  He exited the vault, and we repeated the process. All the while, I tried as hard as I possibly could to find out as much about the magic in this tunnel system as was possible. But that was the thing – it wasn’t damn well possible.