by Jasmine Walt
“No. No, you can’t have him. I’m not . . . I’m not ready.”
“Malina, baby . . .” Dad squeezed my hand. “Remember, you are worthy. You are good enough. I love you so much, so very much.”
I refused to look at him, refused to say goodbye. My focus remained on the yamduth, the creature who’d come for my father. “Go away. Just . . . can you please come back later? Please, just one more day . . .”
The yamduth inclined his head. For a moment, I thought he was agreeing to my terms, but then a long sigh filled the air, drawing my attention back to the bed.
I stared down at my dad, and he looked at me with unseeing eyes.
30
“Dad?”
I reached for him with trembling fingers, wanting to close his eyes. To say he was simply sleeping. I never made contact. Pain ripped through me. My skin lit up as if flames were devouring it, eating away at my organs and tearing a breathless scream from my body.
Drake and Ajitah’s voices filtered through the pounding of blood in my ears.
“What . . .” Another wave of agony crushed the breath from my lungs.
“The seal’s power . . .” Drake said. “Malina, you need to relax and let it in.”
The power’s heat was winding around me, tightening and pressing into my skin, slicing and devouring. I couldn’t see, couldn’t think.
“It’s okay. Just breathe. Malina, breathe,” Drake instructed.
I was dying. This was my end. My body wasn’t strong enough. I wasn’t strong enough. No oxygen, there was no . . . Sweet, clean air rushed into my lungs. The sharp electric scent of a storm enveloped me, and I was raised up, wrapped in strong, sure arms.
The power was a living, breathing thing in my veins. Hissing as it made contact with the tainted marks on my skin. How many marks did I have left now . . . twenty-three? Was my soul worthy? Dad’s words came back to me—Remember, you are worthy. You are good enough. The power pushed deeper, sweeping into the hidden part of me that made me who I was. I held my breath, awaiting judgment, and then, like a sigh, the power settled into my pores, sinking into my cells, becoming . . . me.
I hid in my dark room, locked away from the world. But I wasn’t alone. Ajitah made sure of it.
“I didn’t get to tell him that I loved him. I didn’t get to tell him that I saw Mother. I didn’t get to say goodbye. I just . . .” The tears were endless. The pain was forever—for everything that could have been and should have been, and for the blindness of my heart when I should have been making memories.
Ajitah rocked me on his lap, his huge body a safe cocoon in which my grief could rise and ebb.
“What can I do, Malina? Tell me what I can do to make it better.”
He was a god. A married god, and it was wrong for me to ask him for anything. But he was also my friend, and right now I needed that. I needed a shoulder. The comfort of arms. “Hold me. Just . . . Please, stay with me.”
31
As far as wakes went, this one was a cracker. The number of people who’d shown up at the funeral was astounding. Not that anyone had been invited. It was as if they’d somehow been summoned by mystical energies. Every life he’d touched, every soul he’d saved. They were here, with families in tow. I hadn’t planned a wake, wanting to simply go home and curl up in a ball afterward, but the sheer amount of people who’d appeared had put me on the spot. Thank goodness for Loki. He opened the club early for the wake, organizing food, drink, and appropriate background music. The place looked odd not filled with boppers and grinders. The buffet tables seemed out of place.
I sat in my usual corner, just wanting to get away from all the kindness. Ajitah meandered through the crowd, mingling, listening, and patting shoulders. He was a natural at this sort of thing, but I imagined being the god of death helped.
We’d grown closer the past few days. Not sexually, because there was no way I was going there—not now that I knew he was taken, not now that I knew where my heart truly lay—but emotionally. He was a great guy, and he’d been there for me, would be there for me, for as long as I needed. It wasn’t fair to him—to ask for emotional support when I could never give him the kind of relationship he wanted. Was I taking advantage of him by permitting this deeper emotional connection? The kind of closeness that told him we were more to each other than we could ever be. Had I made his potential pain even worse?
He glanced over, as if sensing that I was thinking about him, and raised his brows. I smiled to let him know I was okay. He was an amazing guy, but I’d have to break up with him. End things, but somehow still keep him with me. He was my responsibility now that Eamon was gone. Oh, man. How would I convince him to stay?
Loki slid into the seat beside me. “It gets easier, you know.”
“Yeah, that’s what they keep telling me, but I feel like a fucking fraud. I mean, I barely knew the guy. What right do I have to be upset? So what if I remembered my childhood? I remembered too late and ended up wasting the time I did have with him. I messed around doing other shit when I could have been spending quality time with my dad.”
“You did what you had to in order to ensure you were ready for this responsibility. You think your father would have wanted it any different? You think he would have preferred you remain cooped up in the mansion, sipping hot cocoa and playing board games while innocents suffered?”
“Well, when you put it that way . . .”
Loki snorted. “Eamon was an amazing man. And you have the potential to be equally, if not more, amazing.”
“Amazinger?”
“That isn’t a word.”
“Yeah, well, it should be.”
Loki patted my hand. “You’ll do great. And remember, you have an arsenal at your disposal. When you’re ready, come see me. We can figure out our next move against the entity.” He slipped out of the booth and melted into the crowd.
Yes, evil didn’t press pause just because death came to visit. Evil had brought the death. The Daughter of Chaos had to be stopped, and I needed to find a way to save my mother. Maybe Drake could help find the Hinn? A spell or something? The Mayfair Coven owed me, big time. There was stuff that needed doing, things to make my dad proud. I had to prove my worth.
I stood up and walked toward the bar. I needed a drink—something strong and dangerous. The scent of summer touched my skin.
Garuda? I scanned the crowd and sighed as it parted to reveal his powerful frame. He strolled toward me slowly, cautiously—a lion approaching a deer he wished to befriend.
I leaned against the bar to face him. “I appreciate you coming.”
He stopped a foot away. “Always.”
With us, it was our eyes that did the real talking. He touched me deeply with his gaze. Probing, searching, soothing. Then he risked another stride and reached up to tentatively tuck a stray strand of my hair off my face. His fingers lingered against the delicate shell of my ear. “Call me when you’re ready. If you need . . . me.”
God, I needed him. I pushed away from the bar and leaned into him. “Thank you.”
His body tensed for a fraction of a second, and then he relaxed and wrapped his arms around me, stroking my back in a soothing motion.
Ajitah’s scent cut through the fog of content, and I gently extricated myself from Garuda’s embrace.
“Hey, thanks for coming,” Ajitah said.
Garuda’s face became impassive. “Of course I’d come. I’ve known Eamon a very long time.”
Ajitah slid his arm around my waist, and I resisted the impulse to tense. Now wasn’t the time to push him away.
Garuda glanced at Ajitah’s arm, and a small, self-deprecating smile painted his lips. “Well, I’ll see you around.”
And as he walked away, it hit me . . . I hadn’t felt a single twinge of anxiety.
Malina’s adventure continues in Claimed by Sin, the final book of the Gatekeeper Chronicles! Head over to Amazon to find it!
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About the Authors
JASMINE WALT is obsessed with books, chocolate, and sharp objects. Somehow, those three things melded together in her head and transformed into a desire to write, usually fantastical stuff with a healthy dose of action and romance. Her characters are a little (okay, a lot) on the snarky side, and they swear, but they mean well. Even the villains sometimes. When Jasmine isn’t chained to her keyboard, you can find her practicing her triangle choke on the jujitsu mat, spending time with her family, or binge-watching superhero shows on Netflix. You can connect with her on Instagram at @jasmine.walt, on Facebook, or at www.jasminewalt.com.
DEBBIE CASSIDY lives in England, Bedfordshire, with her three kids and very supportive husband. Coffee and chocolate biscuits are her writing fuels of choice, and she is still working on getting that perfect tower of solitude built in her back garden. Obsessed with building new worlds and reading about them, she spends her spare time daydreaming and conversing with the characters in her head – in a totally non psychotic way of course. She writes High Fantasy, Urban Fantasy and Science Fiction. Debbie also writes dark, diverse Urban Fantasy fiction, under the pen name Amos Cassidy, with her best friend Richard Amos. Connect with Debbie via her website at debbiecassidyauthor.com or twitter @authordcassidy.
Also by Debbie Cassidy
The Gatekeeper Chronicles
Marked by Sin
Hunted by Sin
Claimed by Sin—Coming Soon!
The Sleeping Gods Series
Forest of Demons
Desert of Destiny
Novellas
Blood Blade
Books Written as Amos Cassidy
The Crimson Series
Crimson Midnight
Crimson Darkness
Crimson Dawn
Crimson Chaos
Raven’s Call - A Crimson Series Prequel Novella
The Shadowlands Series
Shadow Reaper
Shadow Eater
Shadow Destiny
Tales from Beyond the Veil – Novella series
Scarlett’s Path
A kiss of Silver
Ash Rising
Tainted Snow
Standalones
Hawthorn
Aurora
Also by Jasmine Walt
The Gatekeeper Chronicles
Marked by Sin
Hunted by Sin
Claimed by Sin—Coming Soon!
The Baine Chronicles Series:
Burned by Magic
Bound by Magic
Hunted by Magic
Marked by Magic
Betrayed by Magic
Deceived by Magic
Scorched by Magic
Tested by Magic (Novella)
Forsaken by Magic (Novella)—Coming Soon!
The Shadows of Salem Series:
Shadow Born
Shadow Marked
Shadow Hunted
The Nia Rivers Adventures:
Dragon Bones
Demeter’s Tablet
