by Jen Printy
When I wake, I’m alone in our bed.
Wrapped in a blanket, Leah stands on the other side of the room, gazing out the bay window into the moonlit night. Admiring her shape in the makeshift toga, I rise and cross the short expanse. I step in behind her and wrap my arms around her, pressing my lips to the top of her head. We stand locked together, swaying slightly.
Out the window, the crystals of newly fallen snow sparkle in the full moon’s mellow glow. Across a dark body of water, lights glitter in starry clusters from the shore. It feels like we’re in a different world, one free of death and monsters.
“What are you thinking about?” I ask, my voice only a whisper.
“My mom,” she says, not hiding the echo of sadness. She leans her head back against my chest. “I’m not sure I can stay here if it will put her in danger. I have to find a way to keep you all safe.” Her hand falls to her stomach.
I draw in a tense breath and weigh my words carefully. “Love—”
“Let me finish. I dreamt of my mom. It was a glimpse into the future. I’m sure it was. From what I could decipher, she’s safe, at least for now, and in time she’ll be happy again. I know Sally said visions don’t always come true, but my heart tells me this one will. Tomorrow, I’ll talk to Sally about writing my mom. I understand it’s not safe to visit her, but maybe a letter would be okay. I don’t have any idea what I’m going to say yet, but I can’t have her worrying about me. Not with Grady—” She stops, pulling in a shuddering breath, and I tighten my embrace. “It helps to know I’ll see her again someday and that she’ll meet her grandchildren.”
I move a hand to Leah’s stomach, placing my palm over her hand. Somewhere deep down, I wonder what changes these two tiny miracles will bring with them. What if they’re mortals? That would mean more goodbyes. Unease sparks in my chest, but I push it away, not willing to think about that possibility now. Granting myself a moment of happiness doesn’t seem like too much to allow after everything Leah and I have been through.
A warm hand rests over my fingers with a feathery lightness. Leah turns in my arms, her eyes holding mine. “Like I’ve said a thousand times, it’s all going to be all right. I just know it.” She speaks with assurance.
I smile down at her and kiss her between her brows. Hope surges, warming my heart like the sun. I know what is past is gone. Ahead of us lies the great unknown, and a future full of promise.
EPILOGUE
ARTAGAN
“Where is Jack?” Death’s tone is serene, almost relaxing. Almost.
I heave myself up onto my elbows from the damp, grimy floor but find myself startlingly weak, my arms buckling under my weight. I try again, this time succeeding. My hair is in my eyes, pasted to my face with sweat and blood. I shake my head, managing to free it. I glare up at him, his real appearance concealed once more in a human form.
“Piss off!” I say.
Death casts a condemnatory glance over my battered and naked body before crouching in front of me. In the deepest chamber of the church, with the light of a dwindling fire at his back, his face is shadowed so only the shine of his eyes shows in the dim light. He lets out a sigh, and when he speaks again, his voice is hushed. “I wish it hadn’t come to this, you know. I have shown you nothing but patience, but today that stops. A father can only give his son so much leeway. You will tell me what I need to know, one way or another.”
With a curt bob of his head, he stands and begins pacing. The whole time, he watches me, his eyes vigilant for any signs of a change of heart. Then his mouth curls into a self-satisfied grin. I realize where the smug smile comes from when the urge to renounce autonomy and relinquish control crashes over me.
Muscles contract and rebel. The fibers of my willpower stretch and begin to unravel. Without warning, an explosion of blue luminescence ignites behind my lids, followed by images of what life could be like if I were an obedient son. A woman with similar features to Olluna beckons me. Each scene is a skewed perspective of happiness and love. An age-old pang stabs my gut as Death plays with my feelings of resentment, inadequacy, and loneliness, making them harder to ignore.
As the pounding pressure dwindles, the illusion shifts. Olluna’s double disappears, and Kemisi’s image replaces hers. This new hallucination comes from my imagination since I doubt her father would conjure such a memory. I breathe deep and push the thought from my mind. Some desires must remain out of reach no matter how much I might wish otherwise.
I groan, letting myself drop to the floor again, and roll away from his gaze. “Quit the parlor tricks and get on with it.”
“You thought, rather foolishly, that you were a step ahead of me, that you had discovered things about that girl I didn’t already identify.” I hear the anger building in Death’s words. “I’ve known Leah was special for some time. Since the moment Thanatos told me about the canvases she painted of Jack. Why else would I have chosen her to be on my council? Because I believed your lies about Serevo?” He laughs.
“Soul immortals with a Timeless lineage are so rare,” Death goes on. “Choosing Leah for the council left me in a bind. With my pledge to the council, I couldn’t attempt to slaughter her without just cause, now could I? I knew Leah’s family was the key. She loved them, so I believed she would never agree to take one of them. Her selflessness surprised me. When Domitilla came to me, claiming Leah refused to gather her brother, it seemed fate had forged a new avenue to my goal. It was clear to me the girl was being mind-controlled. She didn’t want to refuse. You could see that in her eyes. But as I’m sure you’re aware, many of my children secretly disagreed with my choice to place Leah on the council over Serevo. So I allowed a vote, knowing enough of them would overlook their concerns about Leah turning into another Morrighan and that they would choose to punish her. After that, it was out of my hands and up to fate. But my plan worked.” He smiles. “I now have a Timeless on my council. Yes, there was a sacrifice, but it was well worth it.”
“Says you.” With a grunt, I push myself back up onto my elbow. “I suppose having a member on the council who can keep the Soulless in line would be useful.” I’m a little surprised how calm and reasonable my voice sounds, not betraying the dread brewing within me. I know where our little game of Truth or Consequences is heading.
His expression remains composed, but a small muscle flexes along the side of his neck.
“Or is there more?” I ask. “Their demise, perhaps? The Timeless can kill a Soulless, or am I wrong? By making Leah Timeless, you’ve placed a target on Leah’s back. The Soulless’ main goal now will be to kill her. She’s safer where she is.”
“You don’t think I thought of that? Leah’s last brush with death wasn’t with belladonna. Belladonna can’t kill an Endless—it only marks them for punishment. The Shadow Creature is under my control. Nothing will touch her without my say-so. And any risk to her is far outweighed by the rewards. With a Timeless under my control, we can finally rid this world of the Soulless. My plan is finally attainable.”
“But you didn’t plan for everything, did you? You need my help since you didn’t expect the Timeless would spring Leah from the lion’s den. And even if they did, you knew Leah wouldn’t leave with them as long as her beloved’s fate was in the balance. You never thought they’d take Jack, too, did you?”
The thin line of his lips tightens, making the grooves around his mouth grow deeper. “But you did. Why?”
I grin.
“Be advised, today my patience is extremely low,” he says with a note of warning in his tone. “Enough talking. Tell me where your descendant is, because we both know wherever Jack may be, Leah’s not far away.”
Snorting, I look past him to the fire.
“No, then?”
I swallow hard, forcing down the bitter taste that has risen at the back of my throat, and wait for my death. I’m a little surprised when, in my peripheral view, I see Death r
aise his hand. Palm up, he curls his fingers twice, beckoning to a shadow cast by an overhanging wall.
An audience. Fantastic.
Domitilla, probably. I assumed, when Leah refused, Death gave Dom permission to take Grady and fooled her into believing his plan was for Leah to spend an eternity in Shadow Death as retribution for Vita. Once Leah survived, he’d have to make amends. Maybe I’m the consolation prize.
It takes a moment or two, but following a flutter of black feathers, a shadowed figure creeps from the darkened corner. Too small for Domitilla, the newcomer’s pale skin shimmers in the faint firelight, standing out in stark contrast to her jet-black hair, which hangs long and stringy over her shoulders. Every movement is graceful and calculating. As she arches into a crouch, her steely eyes flit about the room, as a wild animal’s might when gauging its surroundings.
Something about this diminutive girl is unnerving, and the first thrill of true fear flows through me. Before now, I thought Death merely meant to kill me when he didn’t get the answers he required. But with this stranger’s arrival, I fear he might have more in store.
My adrenaline spikes, and I reach for my gold-and-onyx poison ring, only then remembering I gave it to Jack hours before. Like Icarus, it seems overconfidence will be my final undoing.
Still crouched at the far end of the room, the girl hums, dragging a single finger in circular patterns in the dirt. Once in a while, her gaze finds me, causing my unease to grow, but it isn’t until Death speaks again that I understand the reason.
“Morrighan, my good girl,” he coos. “Look what I have for you. A new plaything.”
With a final glance around, Morrighan stands and slinks toward me. Squatting in front of me, she reaches out a small hand, her lips curling into an angelic smile. I cringe as she lays her fingertips on my head. I’m surprised to find her touch is as light as a feather and soothing. But suddenly, her gray eyes turn white, all color disappearing, and the innocent grin transforms into one full of malice.
My body stiffens, legs springing straight, and my hands clench into fists pinned to my sides as a surge of energy like thousands of tiny electric shocks floods through me. Against my will, I let out an unearthly moan. When the round of torture—severe and exquisite—comes to its end, bile overtakes my mouth, and I’m able to roll to my side before being ill.
“Just tell me what I need to know, Artagan, and this all will be over. You can go home,” Death says. “All forgiven.”
Eyes shut tight, I stay silent, lips bound by both stubbornness and loyalty to family. The next surge comes, even stronger and more ruthless than the first, when Morrighan touches me again.
“Artagan,” a sweet voice says through the pain. “Look at me.”
My mind is groggy, and I fight to open my eyes. Kemisi’s face is inches from mine. I reach up hesitantly, fearing she’s only in my imagination, and stroke a soft curl of her hair between my fingers.
“You shouldn’t be here,” I manage to push out.
“If you tell Death what he needs to know, we can be together,” she says. “Please tell him where Jack is, and all this will stop.”
The pain dwindles, allowing me to pull in a full breath. Deep down I wonder how Kemisi can ask this of me. I thought she knew me better. I know I must refuse her, but not yet. I want one more moment with her, just one more touch. Running my thumb along the curve of her cheek, I set the silky feeling to memory. The honey color of her skin has always reminded me of rowan wood, but in the dim light, it appears richer, darker. I fix my attention on her almond-shaped eyes, and the fantasy shatters. Their color isn’t the lively caramel brown I know so well, but a deadpan gray.
“You’re not her! Get away from me, you bitch!” I use my last ounce of strength to push the imposter away.
The angelic smile returns to her lips, and Kemisi’s face transforms back into Morrighan’s pallid one. She lets out a snarl as her upper lip curls, showing off a set of pointed teeth. Her hands jut out like claws and clamp around my throat. I cannot breathe, and my body thrashes with the demand for air. I grab at her hands, trying to pry them loose, but to no avail. As her grip tightens, my breathing grows shallow, and I go willingly into the dark.
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This novel could not have come into being without the help of some wonderful people:
To my husband, Craig, and my daughters, Elizabeth and Nicole. Your love and support means the world to me. Thank you for being my sounding boards. And to my dearest friend, Audrey, for her continuous encouragement throughout this journey.
To the Red Adept Publishing team for all your hard work and dedication. Special thanks to my editors, Sarah and Jen, whose input and guidance made this novel shine.
To Susan for helping me whip my manuscript into shape. And to my beta readers—Lea, Beth, and Sarah—for their advice and countless read throughs.
To Doshu Allan Viernes and Shihan Jennifer Viernes of the Greater Portland School of Jukado for all their help with self-defense. Your input was invaluable.
To Heather and Lorria for answering my strange and I’m sure sometimes disturbing medical questions. I’m so grateful for all your help.
And finally, to God, who makes all things possible.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Since childhood, Jen Printy has been writing. Whether stories about a fantasy world or everyday life in Maine, Jen loved losing herself in the worlds she created on paper. The arts in all forms have always been an important part of Jen’s life, a love instilled in her by her father. When Jen isn’t writing, she’s sculpting as a freelance doll artist.
Jen lives with her husband, two daughters, and diva dog Cookie in southern Maine, where she loves spending time with friends and family, finding treasures along the seashore, or enjoying a Guinness at her favorite local pub.
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Did you love Council of Souls? Then you should read Splintered Souls by Erica Lucke Dean!
When Ava Flynn walks away from a scholarship to Georgetown and moves into her grandmother's abandoned summer home in coastal Maine, she steps into the center of a centuries-old curse. On her first night, she notices a mysterious leather-clad stranger looking up at her third-story window. For weeks, everywhere she goes, Ava catches more glimpses of him, but she can never get close enough to find out who he is.Over three hundred years ago, Lady Catherine Fairchild risked everything to protect her unborn child, sending a ripple through time that would change Ava's future. As the mystery unravels, the horrifying consequences of Lady Catherine's choices drag Ava deeper into a world she never knew existed, trapping her in a conflict that's been raging since before she was born. A winner-take-all battle for her soul.
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