Forever and Beyond

by Jayde Scott

  Blake took a step forward, then stopped in his tracks, his gaze shifting from me to Aidan, then back to me. “I’m glad you could come,” he said to no one in particular.

  I elbowed Aidan in the ribs. He didn’t budge, so I shot Kieran an imploring look and noticed his set jaw and the burning fire in his eyes. The McAllister brothers might bicker over every minuscule decision in their lives, but they sure knew how to stick together when it mattered.

  I heaved an exaggerated sigh and nodded. “We’re happy to see you.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Aidan muttered under his breath.

  “Why, where are my manners?” I continued unfazed, hopeful the McAllister brothers would get the hint. They didn’t. “I just realized I have yet to thank you for your hospitality.”

  “I gather the accommodation is to your liking?” Blake said.

  “Very much so. Thank you.” I smiled and raised my brows at Aidan. He just frowned back. That was about all the small talk I could make. If he didn’t take it from here soon, we’d end up with that uncomfortable silence that makes everyone start counting the seconds until it might be polite enough to get up and leave. I didn’t get guys. Why couldn’t they just put their primitive, alpha male battle on hold for a while and get on with whatever business they had with each other? Surely stopping the war was more important than mending their bruised egos?

  Biting my lip, I tapped my fingers against my thigh and begged my mind to come up with something to say as my gaze shifted from one face to another. That’s when I smelled blood again. I peered at the podium, only now realizing it wasn’t a podium at all, but much larger—just like an altar, only with chairs set up around it. A few people had inched closer but didn’t sit down. They stood as still as statues, watching us like you’d watch a theatrical performance, their faces mirroring their curiosity. I wondered how much they knew about us, about the war and the prophecy.

  A sudden sense of vertigo made my head spin. My vision blurred and for a moment I thought I might just pass out on the marble floor. I forced myself to take shallow breaths, but the unmistakable scent of iron and copper coming from the altar hit my nostrils nonetheless, and a sense of dread washed over me. My brain screamed that I needed to get away from this place, and yet my feet remained firmly planted onto the ground. Running wasn’t my style. Besides, my boyfriend needed my support. Okay, he didn’t exactly say those words, but he told me in the past how much he needed me. I believed him and would grant him my undying loyalty and support until the very end of time because, deep down, I knew he’d do the same for me.

  People wanted me dead, which made me conclude my necromancer abilities posed a great danger to Aidan’s enemies. As of yet, I had no idea why because, surely, mediums and psychics could also talk with the dead. But as soon as I found out what those abilities entailed and why they were so special, I’d end up being of great help to Aidan and his brethren, or so my reasoning said.

  Clearing my throat, I focused my attention back to the hall and Morganefaire’s residents, realizing someone had yet to break the silence. As much as I hated being the center of attention, someone had to do it. Besides, with the scent of blood lingering in the air, I had to focus my attention on something more irrelevant.

  “I like your style,” I said, pointing at Blake’s black waistcoat that made him look like an aristocratic undertaker from the Middle Ages with its medieval cut and the shiny material. I squinted, hoping it looked like genuine interest rather than a feeble attempt to avoid being blinded by the thing. “Is that satin?”

  “Silk,” Blake corrected.

  “Easy mistake,” I said. “They both originated in China, right?”

  Blake hesitated, considering his words. “Yes, but silk is natural and satin is artificial. Silk is made from cocoons of silk worms and woven into clothes. A single strand of thread requires thousands of silk worms, which makes it more expensive and durable than satin.”

  I nodded again. “Maybe your designer can make me a dress.” Not in a million years. “It would go well with—” I waved my hand, searching for words that seemed to have deserted me completely.

  “You’re a horrible liar,” Kieran whispered behind me. In spite of the tense situation, his voice oozed with humor. I could’ve slapped the moron for having a laugh at my expense when I was doing all the hard work.

  “So, who’s your designer? I’m dying to know,” I asked Blake, ignoring Kieran.

  “The dumpster,” Kieran muttered to Aidan, who seemed to want to stare a hole into the floor. Something went off inside me. I didn’t know what was worse: Kieran’s preschooler behavior, Aidan’s arrogance and pride, Blake’s talk about irrelevant things such as worms, or the smell of blood that just wouldn’t stop torturing me. Whatever it was, I just couldn’t bear it anymore. Didn’t want to. I turned sharply and shot Kieran and Aidan irritated looks, then grabbed their arms and forced them a step forward toward Blake, until we stood in a close circle. “Okay, I get it,” I hissed probably sounding like a lunatic. “Everyone’s mad at everyone else. Aidan at Blake because he tried to kill me. And Kieran—” I pointed at him “—because you feel the need for a rare display of brotherly loyalty. And you, Blake, I don’t know you long enough to know your motives, but I guess Aidan and you are even now that you saved my life. A life for a life. So let’s be friends again, and get this over and done with.”

  “We’re not even. He betrayed my trust,” Aidan growled.

  “I was protecting my best friend,” Blake said through gritted teeth.

  A dangerous glint appeared in Aidan’s blue gaze. “You call killing my mate protection? You know exactly what happens to those who lose their bonded mates. Just look at Clare. It’s not friendship if you wished that fate upon me.” He took a menacing step forward until he stood mere inches from Blake. They were about the same size, towering over everyone else. Their gazes were locked in an intense stare, Aidan’s filled with hate, Blake’s mirroring something I couldn’t quite pinpoint.

  “How could I have known she was your mate?” Blake said. “It’s not like you talked about your feelings for her. You told us she won the price and that we needed to free her from it.”

  Blake was definitely digging himself an early grave. Or would his insolence help? Silence ensued and for a moment I almost dared a smile, proud of myself that I got them to talk to each other…until Aidan said, “A true friend would’ve known. I should’ve let you rot when I had the chance.”

  “I proved myself to you time and time again,” Blake whispered.

  “The blood of a traitor is worth nothing to me,” Aidan hissed. As if on cue, Kieran placed his hand on my shoulder, probably to prevent me from intervening. I shot him an easygoing smile to signal I wasn’t planning to because, deep down, I believe that whenever a problem persists, people have to talk it out like adults. I was confident they shared my attitude…until Aidan’s right hand wandered to his back where the sheath of his blade was usually located. Maya had removed our weapons, so I still wasn’t worried. And then something silvery caught the light, making me realize Maya might not have found all of Aidan’s weapons after all.

  Aidan pulled out a blade, intent to use it. My stomach turned with fear and my heart began to hammer in my chest. The thought of a battle between life and death, of losing Aidan or seeing Blake harmed, froze me to the spot. The cave of my mouth became dry as pictures of blood covering the floor and walls invaded my mind. A low growl formed deep within my chest. My breathing quickened. I wanted to yell at Aidan to put the dagger away before it was too late, but the sound didn’t find its way out of my throat.

  Somewhere to my right, a door opened and closed with a loud thud. A man forced his way through the gathered crowd and inched closer. Through the blood fog before my eyes, I noticed the black, leather armor protecting his chest and the metal spikes adorning his worn boots.

  He took a deep bow before Blake, then stopped in front of Riley, ignoring us. “Iain of the Night Guard,” he said in a deep, g
uttural voice with an accent I couldn’t place. “A girl has been found. I ask for permission to stain the hallowed ground.”

  “You may,” Riley said.

  Aidan’s expression clouded. The tiniest bit of disappointment crossed his features as he slid the dagger back inside the sheath. I couldn’t believe the guy. Did he really want to harm his former best friend? Any distraction was welcome now. I let out a sigh of relief and craned my neck to follow Iain through the crowd, out of the hall and then back in. Another man dressed in the same attire including the spike boots walked close behind, his strong arms carrying the small bundle of a teenage girl. Her long, golden brown hair brushed the floor as he placed her by Blake’s feet, then stepped back and lowered his head, his hand clutching what looked like a silver sword fastened to his left hip.

  The crowd gasped but didn’t dare inch closer. A murmur echoed from the enclosed walls and turned into a penetrating buzz that grew in intensity. My heart pumped harder, faster, until I thought my chest might explode any minute. I covered my ears and forced myself to hold in my breath so I wouldn’t inhale the copper scent that spread through the air like a blanket as I peered at the lifeless girl, ignoring the gathering crowd around me.

  Her slightly chubby face, milky complexion and pink lips made her very pretty. Blake kneeled next to the motionless body and brushed her hair away from her face and neck, revealing unbroken skin. His hand moved to the nape of her neck, testing it, then down the contours of her body clad in a loose, green dress that reached down to her naked ankles.

  “Whatever happened to her, it must’ve happened last night while she was asleep,” I said. For the first time the witches and warlocks on the east and west side turned to regard me directly.

  “Why?” Kieran whispered.

  “Because she’s still wearing her nightgown,” Blake said grimly, echoing my thoughts.

  “What do you think happened to her?” someone whispered.

  The room began to spin. I blinked several times to get rid of the dizziness forming before my eyes, but it didn’t work.

  “It’s hard to say,” Aidan said. “There’s no bruising. No blood.”

  “So, she died of a natural cause?” Hope oozed from Iain’s voice. I peered from him to Aidan and knew instantly my boyfriend wasn’t convinced.

  “Could be,” he said. “Except that the Prophecy of Morganefaire starts with someone’s death. For all we know it could be hers.”

  “Yes, that’s what the Seer saw, but the prophecy does not begin with the death of an ordinary witch,” Blake said, his black eyes cutting into Aidan’s, imploring him to keep quiet. “The verdict is she died of a natural cause. Iain, take her to the mortuary.”

  “The Council shall meet at a more appropriate time,” Riley said. “Close the gates. No one’s allowed in or out until the investigation concludes.”

  My gaze swept over the girl’s chubby cheeks that didn’t quite fit her otherwise thin body. I frowned and dared a quick sniff. Even though there was no sign of blood on her body, the telltale scent of copper hit my nostrils again.

  “Please, something’s wrong,” a thin female voice echoed in my ear. “Something bad happened.”

  “Did you hear that?” I whispered to Kieran. I glanced around but only saw men standing nearby. He shook his head, wide-eyed. His gaze swept over the hall, unsure what to look for. I was obviously freaking him out again.

  “Can no one sense it?” the thin voice asked again, making me shiver. The people around us kept staring at the girl’s body, whispering to each other, but no one seemed to react to the voice. A ghostly presence? Maybe the spirit was calling out to me from the grave because she needed help.

  My fingers hovered inches away from the girl’s parted lips, and that’s when it dawned on me. The scent came from inside her mouth. She might not have struggled because something or someone pinned her down, but she had bitten her tongue until she drew blood. Maybe Aidan and Kieran couldn’t smell it because they didn’t need blood to survive. Blake and I had never really been close so, for all I knew, he might just not have particularly good senses.

  Kieran pulled me away and whispered in my ear, “What are you doing? We’re trying to make a good impression here, remember? You can’t touch a body with that facial expression. You look like you’re starving.”

  “I’m sorry. I couldn’t help it. I had to take a closer look.”

  “Why?”

  My gaze sliced into his. “Because I think Aidan’s right that she was murdered.”

  A moment later, Iain lifted the girl’s body in his arms and carried her away.

  “Please, I need to find out what happened,” the female voice said. I turned slowly, careful not to draw attention to myself, and scanned the empty space around me. Nothing there. It irritated the hell out of me that I couldn’t put a face to the voice. It made me feel like I suffered from a mental disorder. Schizophrenia maybe, or multiple personality. If I didn’t get out now and found an answer as to what was going on, I might as well check myself into a psychiatric ward.

  “I need fresh air,” I whispered to Aidan.

  He shot me a concerned look. “I’ll come with you.”

  I shook my head. “No, you stay here and finish up. I’ll meet you in the hall outside, near the entrance.” Faking a faint smile, I squeezed his hand and hurried out before he insisted on accompanying me. Ignoring the curious stares, I dashed through the crowds of people, following the scent of iron and copper down a flight of stairs to an underground vault and a closed, mahogany door. With a fleeting look over my shoulder, I pushed it open and entered the morgue.

  Chapter 7

  A voice had spoken to me—I hadn’t been imagining things—and apparently I needed to find out what happened. I needed more clues and if sneaking into the morgue was what I had to do, then so be it. My body shook…and it wasn’t because lifeless limbs scared me. Part of me feared visiting a place where resident souls still lingered near their bodies, screaming for help to come back to life or to have their requests fulfilled. With a gift like talking to the dead, every spirit would be attracted to me like a moth to a flame, but I’d still take the chance because living with a voice inside my head was out of the question. So I vowed to enter the morgue, inspect the body, and then get the heck out of there. And if I stumbled across a gathering of souls, I swore to myself I’d act as though I couldn’t see them and make a beehive for the nearest exit. Sounded simple enough. Unfortunately, the simplest things aren’t always as easy as they seem.

  The windowless room was about as big as a small chapel, and cold as ice. A couple of torches and candles burned bright, casting golden shadows across the cracked, white walls. The girl was spread out on a marble altar, a decorated slab with images of the sun and moon set up in the middle of the room. An inscription in fancy cursive was carved out in gold. The golden brown girl’s hair was arranged around her like a halo; her long flowing dress brushed the stone floor. She looked so serene, as though she was barely asleep and would wake up very soon. It was hard to believe someone this young and pretty was gone forever.

  Hesitating, I inched closer until my hand almost touched her cold skin. My fingers brushed over her mouth, then pressed lightly to part her lips and inspect the inside of her cheeks. Her jaw remained clenched tight. Rigor mortis, the rigidity that commences shortly after death, had already kicked in, meaning her limbs could no longer be bent without using force for at least a few more hours after which they would soften again. But I couldn’t wait that long. To prove my theory that she had been awake during her attack and bit her tongue in fear, I had to peek inside her mouth and break a few bones in the process. The prospect of hurting someone—even someone already dead—horrified me. It just seemed wrong. Besides, for all I knew, the girl’s ghost might still be hovering around this place. I had been to the Otherworld and knew ghost experienced their last moments and the brief period afterwards over and over again. The violation of her mortal carcass wasn’t a memory I wanted to give
her for all eternity.

  I circled the altar once, then again, pondering my options, when the air above the girl’s chest sparkled for a brief second. It could’ve been a trick of the candlelight or the figment of my imagination, and yet it made me stop on the spot. My gaze narrowed as I peered from her chest to the ceiling, then back down to her unmoving body.

  The thin, golden thread was there, faint and barely noticeable, but there nonetheless. Frowning, I edged closer and bent forward until my face hovered inches away from the sparkling air. I had seen it before, when one of my friends, the devil’s daughter Cass, almost lost her bonded mate and became a reaper. She had told me about the golden thread—the life cord, as she called it—that binds a human’s soul to a mortal body and that it needed to be cut within hours upon one’s death. The girl had been dead for at least a few hours, and yet no reaper had arrived to cut the life cord. I wondered why.

  I watched the golden thread in silence. Maybe the reaper was late. Maybe her death had gone unnoticed in the Otherworld. Maybe something had happened to the designated reaper, which was unlikely but not entirely impossible. I don’t know how long I just stood there, lost in thought, unaware of the entity watching me. A freezing sensation washed over me, but I attributed it to an uneasiness stemming from being in a room with a corpse. Eventually, I peered at one of the flickering candles, and that’s when I saw the girl’s ghost standing near the wall, her frightened gaze fixed on the altar. My mouth turned dry, my pulse spiked. The usual sense of fear and dread grabbed hold of me, but after my recent encounters with ghosts, both of the good and the bad kind, I knew running wouldn’t get me far.