Resurrection Road

by Hannah Marae

  Eden hesitated, hovering before the threshold. Once they passed through, they would be at the mercy of Laurent. She didn’t like it, and she felt terrible putting Zeke in that position. Part of her considered telling him to wait outside, but she didn’t think he’d actually do it.

  “Last chance to back out,” Eden murmured to Zeke. “I promise I won’t hold it against you.”

  He scoffed. “I’m with you ’til the end. Besides, Lazarus would kill me if I let you go in here alone. You know that, right?”

  Eden rolled her eyes. “Somehow, I highly doubt that.”

  The pair followed the strange butler into a wide corridor with mahogany-paneled walls and brass sconces. The house was quiet but for the click of Zeke’s boots and the painful squeaking of Eden’s high-tops against the burnished wood floor. The butler guided them past closed doors and open archways that led into smaller passages. Through these archways, she caught peeks of dark figures moving in the same stiff manner, all of them with carefully blank expressions.

  “They’re acolytes, I think,” Eden whispered. “This whole place feels like a cult.”

  “Well, that’s disconcerting.”

  At the end of the corridor, a wide staircase led to the second floor. The butler came to a stop at the base, gesturing to an open doorway on their right. He stood with his arm held out as Eden and Zeke entered the room.

  The parlor was spacious, done up in an archaic style Eden assumed was meant to be fancy. A pair of gray high-backed sofas sat arranged around a polished coffee table holding a vase of lush wildflowers. Heavy curtains were drawn over the windows, the only light coming from the wrought-iron chandelier hanging overhead.

  Eden expected to be ushered into the parlor to wait. She knew this was a power play, and it was one she was prepared for. What she did not expect was to find Laurent herself sitting at the center of one of the wide sofas, a small teacup grasped in her long, pale fingers. She looked up as they entered, giving a predatory smile that sent a shiver crawling up Eden’s spine.

  Wordlessly, Laurent motioned for them to sit on the opposite sofa. She leaned forward, setting her cup on the coffee table with a gentle click. Eden settled onto the sofa beside Zeke, eyes roaming the room. The windows all had warding symbols etched into the walls above them, and the butler still stood outside the open doorway. That wasn’t to mention the mage herself smiling slyly from the other sofa, almost daring them to try making an escape. Eden had a bad feeling from the start; being here with the mage felt a lot like being a sheep cornered by a wolf.

  “So you want to talk about Mab.” Laurent’s voice was low and thick, practically oozing power. She had them in the palm of her hand, and she wanted them to know it.

  “Yes,” Eden replied simply. She didn’t elaborate or launch into questioning. This was going to be delicate, she could already tell, and she did not want Laurent nor Zeke to realize she knew where Mab was. Where her soul was. The Good Night.

  “I’m afraid she’s indisposed.”

  Eden leaned forward. “But she is alive.” Peeling back her shirt’s collar, she offered a quick glimpse of the tattoo glowing pink. If she could get Laurent to admit to what she did to Mab, then maybe Eden could also get her to let her out.

  Studying the sigil, Josephine raised a blonde brow. “So that’s how you found her,” she mused. Blue eyes flashed up at them. “Sigil magic is just full of fun, little tricks, isn’t it?” She paused, looking Eden up and down in assessment. “You’re not a very experienced mage, are you?”

  Eden felt Zeke bristle beside her, but she only shrugged. “I’m new.”

  “You haven’t reached your potential.” Laurent nodded. “Neither had Mab. It’s common in sigil mages, it seems.” The mage retrieved her teacup, taking a shallow sip. Then, slowly, as if drawing out the moment, she replaced it on the table. “She came to me, I’ll have you know, wanting to make a deal. She wanted to find her sister. I’m sure you know all about that.”

  “Florence,” Eden said. Florence had been off the grid for months before Mab got that final text: a set of coordinates off the beaten path in Nebraska. She’d driven up there in a panic, expecting to find her sister hurt or lost. Instead, she found Eden, and Florence hadn’t been heard from since. “Did she find her?”

  Laurent idly inspected her sharpened nails. “She learned she’s alive. I’m afraid there wasn’t much time for anything else.”

  “Because of the price?”

  A deep chuckle slid from Josephine’s throat. She leaned back in her seat, crossing one of her long legs over the other. Long fingernails drummed a desultory beat against her velvet-clad knee. “You know quite a bit more than I expected. I assumed I would turn you away, confused, and eager to continue your search elsewhere.” She sighed. “Shall I just show you then?”

  The mage stood, crossing the room in a few fluid strides. Eden was quick to follow with Zeke just behind. They passed the butler and returned to the main hall. Halfway down, Laurent stopped at a plain white archway. She beckoned for them to follow, eyes gleaming as she stepped into the darkness. Eden and Zeke peered through the arch, watching Laurent disappear down a staircase leading into the gloom.

  “Are we really going down there?” Zeke groaned. “This feels like a trap, right?”

  “I’m going.” Eden took a breath and wished her pounding heart would slow. She didn’t know precisely what they would find down there, but she had some idea. And she knew Zeke wasn’t going to like it. At this point, her path was set. This was where she needed to be, and if Lazarus and Zeke chose to travel a separate road, so be it.

  “Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet, darlings,” Laurent called from somewhere below.

  “All right.” Zeke rolled his neck and huffed out a breath. “Let’s do this.”

  The bottom of the stairs opened into a cold, well-lit room that reminded her of a vault. Her sneakers scuffed against the cement floor, sending echoes bouncing across the bare space. The room was mostly empty, white plaster walls with plain fixtures. A series of wide plinths held glass cases, sitting neatly in two rows along the back.

  “Oh my god.” Eden crossed the room. Within one of the cases, Mab lay on her back, eyes closed and hands folded over her unbreathing chest. She looked just like she did in the visions: a beat-up leather jacket, jeans with ripped knees, her skin pale, and her hair resting in vibrant red waves.

  “What the hell did you do to her?” Zeke demanded. Eden looked back in time to see him turn on Laurent, the spelled dagger appearing in his hand.

  The mage laughed. In a blur of motion, she produced a red vial and flicked off the stopper. Zeke lunged, the blade glinting in the sterile white light. Quickly, Eden sent power into her sigils: protection, strength, speed. She raced toward Zeke, arm stretched out to make a grab for the blade.

  A waterfall of red swept into the air. Eden collided with Zeke, and they hit the floor, the knife clattering across the room. Above them, a ruby veil rippled and pulsed. Josephine Laurent grinned, and the cloud coalesced, the heavy liquid forming a pair of undulating spears.

  “She’s a blood mage.” Eden gasped. She extinguished her sigils, already feeling her power reserves draining. Watching the spears with a careful eye, Eden climbed to her feet.

  “Shit,” Zeke muttered as he scrambled to his feet. “That would’ve been good to know.” He eyed the blood spear that was trained on him. “Mind putting that away?”

  Laurent smirked and waved a hand. The spears responded, flowing back into the vial. “One can never be too careful with hunters. They’re quite . . . predictable.” She turned to Eden. “Let that be a lesson to you.”

  “Mab,” Eden ground out. “I want you to bring her back.”

  “I can’t, darling. It’s too late.” The mage held up her hands. “We all know the rules of Purgatory.”

  Eden flinched at the word. The Morgans had already told her as much. They knew the rules better than anyone. Lazarus’s own mother had sacrificed her life to free hi
m from that place.

  “The Good Night?” Zeke turned to Eden, his ordinarily bright smile pulled into a tight frown. He searched her eyes. “Why do I get the feeling you already knew?”

  “I didn’t know,” she stammered. “Not until the last time. I should have said something but . . . I didn’t know how.”

  Zeke ran a hand through his hair, pressing his eyes closed as he turned away. “She’s right”—he gestured at Laurent—“there’s nothing we can do. Goddamn it, Eden. We never would’ve come in here if we’d known!”

  “Why do you think I didn’t say anything?” Eden shot back. She turned to the mage. “If you put her in there, then there has to be a way you can bring her back.”

  Laurent laughed. “There’s only one way, darling, and I’d be more than happy to accommodate.”

  “A trade,” Eden realized. Could she do that? Give up her own soul for Mab’s? It would be fair, wouldn’t it? After years of Mab looking after Eden, it was past time to return the favor. And if Florence was still alive . . .

  “An even trade, what do you say?”

  “Like hell,” Zeke said, stepping between Eden and Laurent.

  “Zeke. . . .”

  He shook his head. “No trade.”

  “Then, I suppose we’re done here, aren’t we?” With the snap of her fingers, several blank-faced attendants appeared. As the attendants ushered them past, Laurent stopped to lay a hand on Eden’s shoulder. “We’ll call this an open arrangement, darling. If you ever change your mind, you know where to find me.”

  The moment Zeke pulled out of the lot and disappeared down the street, Lazarus began to pace. It would have been smart to go inside, conduct more research on Laurent, or get some sleep. Between the jobs and long hours on the road, the past few days had left him haggard and more than ready to find the nearest Nowhere and hole up for a while. But relaxation was impossible while Zeke and Eden were out there. Lazarus didn’t bother trying.

  With Hades at his heels, he walked the corridors outside the room, looping down toward the vending machines and back. Eventually, the motel’s other patrons began to filter in from a long day at the festival. They slipped past him with sidelong glances, obviously concerned about the giant man with his giant dog wandering around the motel.

  Lazarus took to pacing his room instead.

  With Hades sprawled on the bed, he moved from the window to the bathroom mirror and back, pausing to flick on the news and then turn the television off, tossing the remote aside. He loathed the idea of Zeke and Eden going into the manor on Cadence Lane alone. Absolutely hated it. Even now, his mind sought and held onto reasons why he should be there with her instead of Zeke.

  For one, Lazarus was a better hunter. That was just a fact. He’d been raised in it, after all, practically breathed the hunt for more than twenty-five years. Zeke, even after five years on the road, was still new.

  And Zeke would’ve taken it better, anyway. If he were here, he’d be kicked back in a bubble bath or eating pizza in bed while watching the latest hit show. He wouldn’t be pacing from one side of this box to the other like a damned fool.

  After a few hundred turns about the room, Lazarus saw a flash of light flicker through the window. Rushing over, he peeled back the curtains and peered into the darkness. Relief flooded him as he spotted a familiar pair of headlights pull into the parking lot below. He moved to the door and reached for the knob but thought the better of it. All evening, he’d been convinced that something was about to go terribly wrong. Yet here they were, presumably safe and sound. The last thing Lazarus needed was to give Zeke a reason to gloat.

  As the truck doors slammed shut—he hated when Zeke did that—Lazarus rushed to the bed and hopped on. He arranged himself into a position he thought was casual, leaning against the headboard with his long legs stretched out. Grabbing the remote off the nightstand, he flicked on the TV and beckoned Hades over. The dog had just curled up beside him when the door opened.

  He looked up as Eden entered. Or—he pretended to. A moment ago, Lazarus’s eyes had been glued to the door.

  “Hey.” His voice sounded forced. “How’d it go?”

  She seemed to float into the room, arms wrapped around her, her eyes red and glassy.

  Something was wrong. Lazarus sat up, opening his mouth to speak as Zeke closed and bolted the door.

  “Interesting choice in entertainment,” Zeke said, an approving look on his face. Lazarus looked to the television in time to see a weird ceremony involving a group of women and a pile of roses. “I mean, I get it,” he continued. “Thrill of the chase, who’ll get the final rose, and all that, but I gotta say, I never thought you were the type.”

  “What?” Lazarus grabbed the remote and hit the off button. “None of that made sense.”

  “Sure, it didn’t.” Zeke grinned. “Sure.”

  Frowning, Eden climbed onto the bed, sitting cross-legged beside him. Lazarus ignored Zeke, who took up residence at the end of the bed. He was starting to get the feeling things hadn’t gone well at all.

  “Well?” Lazarus asked, an attempt to get things moving along. He hated being the only person who didn’t know anything.

  “It’s a big house,” Zeke said. He couldn’t tell if he was purposefully unhelpful or if it just came naturally. “There was a lot of . . . what’d you call them, Eden?”

  “Acolytes,” she said, making no move to elaborate.

  Zeke snapped his fingers. “Yeah, acolytes. Definitely a weird cult vibe there. Oh, and Laurent’s a blood mage, by the way.”

  “Shit.” Lazarus sat back to process this information. He couldn’t believe he sent them in there alone, without himself or even Hades as back up. His mind blurred with all the things that could have gone wrong, all the ways he was lucky Zeke and Eden had returned. Part of him wanted to pull the plug right now. A blood mage. Jesus. That was one force he couldn’t reckon with, even with Eden at his side.

  But there was more. Lazarus could tell that much from Eden’s blank expression, the sullen way Zeke picked at his fingernails.

  “And Mab?” Lazarus looked between them. “Did you find out where she is?”

  “She’s in the manor.” Zeke winced. “We saw her. Apparently, the deal she made involved giving up her most prized possession. Any guesses on what that was?” With a bitter shake of his head, he continued, “Her soul. Ain’t that fucked? Josephine fucking Laurent threw in a loophole and decided that was her most precious possession.”

  “So, she’s dead?” Lazarus asked. Through the thin layer of her T-shirt, he could see Eden’s sigil still alight, stronger than ever. Maybe there was something wrong with it, or maybe whatever happened to Mab hadn’t yet taken effect, like the worst kind of lag spike. Perhaps, all this time, they were following some sort of magical error.

  “No, you’re not getting it.” Zeke slipped out a sigh, his cheeks puffing up. He passed Eden a strange look, and she nodded. “She’s in the Good Night.”

  Lazarus felt his body go rigid, his chest painfully tight. His mind took on a fuzzy feeling, swarming with questions he had no answers to. How the hell could a mage touch a soul, much less send it to Purgatory? Why? Like a dark cloud casting him in shadow, a feeling of dread seeped into him.

  The Good Night. That place. He’d been there. He’d walked the path. More than anyone else, Lazarus knew what the Good Night meant, and that was the end.

  “That’s it, then,” he heard himself say. “There’s nothing we can do.”

  The words seemed to jar Eden back to reality. One moment she was sitting there, distraught, and the next, she had launched herself to her feet, turning to face him.

  “What the hell do you mean there’s nothing we can do?”

  Lazarus held up his hands, trying to placate her, to show her he meant no ill. He wasn’t trying to upset her, not trying to be upset, himself. It was just that . . . damn. This was Purgatory they were talking about. Everything about it was a fucking nightmare that fucked with everything.
>
  “You can’t remove a soul from the Good Night,” he explained. “It takes them in, and it does not let them go.”

  “But what about ghosts?”

  “Yeah,” he conceded, “given enough time, Mab might sneak through the veil as a spirit. But it’s not the same as coming back. She probably wouldn’t even know who she was.”

  Eden crossed her arms over her chest. “There’s got to be another way.”

  “There’s not,” Lazarus retorted, a bit more sharply than he meant to. He knew he was rattled. More than anything, he wanted this conversation to be over. Why couldn’t she just accept what he was telling her?

  “But you can’t know that for sure,” she protested, her voice rising. “There’s always a way.”

  “I know because I’ve been there,” he snapped, pushing himself to his feet. His hair swung over his eyes, and he raked his fingers through it, sweeping it aside.

  “And you got out!” Eden shot back. “Zeke told me what happened. It’s possible. If we can just figure out how to—”

  Whirling, Lazarus glowered at his cousin, who still sat on the bed wearing a sheepish expression. “And did he tell you what it cost? Unless you want to find a reaper and trade your own soul, I’d say you’re shit out of luck.”

  “Why can’t you just try?” she protested.

  He felt his lips curl into a sneer. “Why would I try to do something that’s going to get you killed?”

  She looked up at him, hazel eyes wide and wondering, and Lazarus couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t stand the idea that his shell was beginning to crack and everything, all the blood and viscera that he fought to tamp down were threatening to spill out. He took a shallow breath. “If you want to get yourself offed by a mage or stuck in fucking Purgatory, then be my guest. But you’re gonna have to do it alone.”

  For a long moment, she stared at him, cheeks pink with anger but eyes holding something more akin to sorrow. Lazarus began to realize what he’d said, realized how stupid he’d been. He opened his mouth, but the voice that had just betrayed him refused to speak out.