Shadows and Stars

by Becca Fanning

  My chest tightened, heart racing at the thought of Jackson falling into Big A’s clutches because of me. It was my choice to defy Apollyon, not Jackson’s. He shouldn’t have to take the fall. I knew what fate awaited him. He didn’t deserve that. No one did. I wasn’t worth it, regardless of what Jackson might think.

  “I have a proposition.” The words flew from my mouth before I had a chance to think it over.

  Big A did his best to hide his disappointment, but I saw the look in his eyes, watched his shoulders drop just a notch. I knew his tells as well as he knew mine. Disappointed or not, I had him.

  “I can’t wait to hear this.” His eye roll and body language said otherwise.

  “You let us see this through. We will bring you the necromancer.” I put a heavy emphasis on the word will. My confidence was restored with the epiphany of where I’d gone wrong tracking the necro.

  “Yes, yes. I already know what you want. Catch the necro, prove yourself, etc., etc. We can skip over that part and cut right to the terms.” Big A waved a hand, encouraging me to continue, but only with the parts that were of interest to him.

  “When I bring in the necromancer, I get to keep my job as a Reaper—”

  “I didn’t realize that was in question.” After finding himself on the receiving end of a withering look I’d learned from him, Apollyon raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Apologies. Please continue.”

  Ignoring the look of amusement on his face, I picked up where I left off. “I get to stay in my apartment. Scratch that, too specific.” I started pacing, counting off my demands on my fingers. “I stay topside. Since my apartment is currently unlivable, and I haven’t had time to find a new place, staying topside should cover the part about my living arrangements. And, I get to keep Jackson.” I sort of blurted out the last part. Having lost all impulse control in the height of the moment, I counted him among my demands without even knowing how he felt.

  Or how I really felt, for that matter. I just knew I didn’t want to lose the chance to find out, even if it was only to be rejected.

  “What?” Jackson and Apollyon chorused their surprise, but it was the slight twinkle in Apollyon’s eyes that made me realize my mistake.

  “I mean, not keep him like a pet.” I offered Jackson an apologetic smile and held his gaze while I said the rest, nerves threatening to empty the contents of my stomach all over the floor. “I mean as a partner. Maybe more, if he wants.”

  “Oh, he wants…”

  “Don’t finish that sentence. This is awkward enough.” I pointed at Jackson, reminding him it was not the time for joking around, then turned back to Big A. “If, for some unknown reason, I fail…”

  “You will return with me and live at court.” Apollyon raised the stakes. There was nothing I wanted less than to live anywhere within the nine levels of Hell, especially at court, and he knew it.

  I repeated the terms, making sure we’d covered everything.

  “Well?” Apollyon settled back against the couch, crossing one leg over the other, confident he’d turned the tables and left me with no other choice but to say no. “Do we have a deal, darling?”

  “We have a deal.” I held out my hand, ready to shake on it and finalize our agreement.

  Big A wanted something more official. Pulling a pin from the inner pocket of his suit jacket, he grabbed my hand and jabbed the tip of my finger. A small bead of blood welled up on my fingertip where he’d pricked me.

  “Make your mark. Here.” Having slipped the needle back into his pocket, he produced a small scroll, seemingly out of thin air. He shrugged. “This is what I do, my dear. I’ve never hidden that from you. It requires more than a mere handshake to bind a deal with the Devil. Regardless if you are my daughter; perhaps even more so.”

  “If I could just…” Jackson didn’t get to finish his thought.

  “This doesn’t concern you, Sin Eater.” If looks could kill, the look Apollyon gave Jackson would have dropped him on the spot.

  “Given I’m part of the bargain, I think it does.” Jackson moved closer, reaching for the scroll as if he could actually stop what had been put into motion.

  “I could just kill you now and take you out of the equation altogether.” Apollyon was convincing, sounding like there was nothing else in the world he’d rather do.

  Squeezing the tip of my finger to force more blood to the service, I rushed to make my mark on the parchment before things escalated beyond words between Apollyon and Jackson.

  “We have a deal.” Big A’s attention lingered on the perfectly formed red fingerprint next to my name. “All your life I have indulged you, and you still asked this of me.” His eyes met mine as he rolled up the scroll and tucked it away. “The risk must equal the reward.”

  “I know.” And it did. Having disobeyed Big A, he could have demanded my return to court at any time and I would have had to oblige. He tolerated the life I’d built for myself topside but was in no way required to allow me to live it. My bargain wasn’t just for Jackson, it was for me too.

  “There’s something you should know about the necromancer.” Big A offered a weak smile as he dropped a knowledge bomb in my lap. “He’s working with a ninth level demon.”

  “A ninth level demon? But that means, that means it’s someone at court.” The realization that there had been more to him taking me off the case than just punishing my failure to capture the necro hit me like a ton of bricks. “When did you discover this? You never said anything.”

  “My darling daughter, you never asked. You have a week to bring me the necromancer.” Apollyon stood, brushing the creases away from his pants with a wave of his hand, before buttoning his suit jacket and disappearing from Jackson’s apartment.

  Deep down I’d always known that whatever tiny sliver of the angel Apollyon had been before the fall had been reserved for me. I just never knew why and I probably never would. And yet, it couldn’t stop me from making a deal with the Devil, something I swore I’d never do and condemned my mother for doing since I was old enough to know what she’d done.

  The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

  THIRTEEN

  “A NINTH LEVEL DEMON. Does that mean what I think it means?” Jackson raked his fingers through his hair, his frustration over what had transpired in his apartment obvious. “What did you do? What did you just get us in to?”

  “Nothing we weren’t already involved in. And yes, to answer your question, it means exactly what you think it means. Someone’s maneuvering for a promotion in Hell.” While I would have liked knowing that particular tidbit of information before I signed on the dotted line, it wouldn’t have changed the outcome. “I’m not going back, Jackson. He would have been within his rights to take me with him. He could have taken me whenever he wanted.” Pressing my palms against my eyes, I forced back the tears threatening to fall.

  “He’s good to me. I don’t know why.” I broke off Jackson’s assumptions of me living a battered, tortured life. “Maybe having a daughter, even if it’s just the illusion of one, means something to him, because he wasn’t lying when he said he indulged me. But if he takes me back now I’ll be paraded around court before being set upon a shelf like a porcelain doll until he’s negotiated an acceptable match. And that, for me, is Hell. So, I’m taking this fucking necro down and I’m not going back.”

  “No, you’re not.” Jackson nodded in agreement before closing the distance between us in two long strides. His hands cupped my face, lips pressed against mine in a kiss that set my soul on fire. “You’re not going anywhere.” His words were mumbled between kisses as his mouth became acquainted with the sensitive spots on my neck.

  Somewhere around the time my knees turned to jelly, I pulled back. Both of us breathless, he rested his head on my shoulder, clearly struggling for restraint. As much as I wanted to take things to the next level with Jackson and explore the attraction growing between us, we’d never have a future if we didn’t stop the necromancer.

&
nbsp; The contract I’d negotiated with Apollyon ensured it, and I had seven days before he came to collect.

  “Jackson, I…” I felt the Sin Eater’s attempt at a nod, his head still resting on my shoulder.

  “No, you’re right. We need to focus on the necro.” He stepped back, putting some much-needed distance between us. “Before your…” Jackson stopped himself before he called Apollyon my father. “Before he showed up, you said you had an idea.”

  “I did?” That kiss must have fried my brain. If the smile on his face was any indication, I’d said that last bit out loud. “What was I talking about?”

  “Something about tracking the necro the wrong way?” Right on cue, Jackson picked up where I’d left off before Apollyon came calling.

  “The wrong way…the wrong way… Got it!” Everything seemed to click into place as I walked back to the kitchen for another cup of coffee to fuel my lust-addled brain. “It’s the spirit walker. She’s the key.” I topped off Jackson’s mug as well. If he didn’t drink it, I would. “I was trying to connect the souls he converted, but it’s the children they’re feeding off of that have a connection. Otherwise, why would the spirit walker come looking for me?”

  “Maybe she’s clairvoyant?” Jackson doctored up the mug I’d topped off with more sugar and cream, then started another pot of coffee. “What if she saw how all of this ends and is just trying to tell you to stop?”

  “She wouldn’t be the first. Hester warned me off this one too, and I didn’t listen to her.” I just shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. It’s too late to turn back now.” Draining the rest of my coffee, I set the empty mug on the counter and waited for the pot to finish brewing. I had a thing about taking the coffee before the pot fully brewed. “I don’t know. It just feels like she’s connected, like they’re all connected.”

  “Okay, it’s not like we have anything else to go on at this point.” Jackson went to the pantry and pulled out a box of chocolate chip cookies, popping one in his mouth before setting them down on the counter between us. “Sin Eaters require a lot of sugar. They explained it when I first came to the order, something to do with biology. It was all very scientific. I may have stopped listening in class at some point.”

  “You don’t have to worry about your delicate figure?” My hands had roamed enough of his body for me to know his figure was anything but delicate. All hard planes and chiseled muscle, it would take more than a box of cookies to ruin his physique.

  “Nope. Adding sins to the food pyramid changes your metabolism.” He popped another bite-sized cookie in his mouth.

  “Must be nice.” Being immortal by association with Apollyon only went so far with me. I was counting on genetics to keep my carb addiction from catching up with me. The notion that a treadmill was very likely in my future if I wanted to keep eating at the diner did not stop me from shoving a chocolate chip cookie in my mouth. “You were going to get your laptop, remember?”

  “Right.” With a snap of his fingers, Jackson dashed off to his bedroom to procure his computer, returning a few moments later with something covered in bumper stickers that slightly resembled a laptop. “Where do you want to start?”

  “Run a search on each of the dead children in separate tabs. Start with the obits.” The proverbial lightbulb went off in my head and I could have kicked myself for missing it before. “That’s what Smithie said. Start with the obits. Damn it, I’m an idiot.” Out of patience with myself and, well, everything else, I stepped around to Jackson’s side of the kitchen counter and nudged him out of the way so I could take over the internet search.

  Jackson hovered, looking over my shoulder as I pulled the children up in regular Google searches first and then in the soul database only accessible with the right Department of Soul Acquisition credentials. Of varying ages, all of the children came from affluent families who lived lives most other children in the city could only dream of. Private schools, private transportation, Roland Park zip codes. Statistically, these children were far less likely to die before the age of twelve than in almost any other neighborhood in the city, if not the state. The D.S.A. database came up empty.

  Not that I was surprised by those results or the lack thereof. It wasn’t every day someone bartered their baby. I was starting to think I had been the last.

  In this instance, however, no results were still results. It confirmed the children were innocents and in limbo until we stopped the necromancer. Theoretically, the souls could be collected and released to the appropriate department, which in their case would be the D.S.T. —Department of Soul Transition. Often mistaken for a white light, their representatives are my counterparts from upstairs. Under no circumstances did the D.S.A. and D.S.T. work together. In other words, I didn’t have a contact and I was a little fuzzy on the details, but if it was possible, I planned on trying.

  Like the saying goes—on a wing and a prayer. Which, in this case, was oddly appropriate.

  “They were all within a year or two of one another in age and went to the same school.” Jackson started charting any and all similarities trying to uncover a pattern. “Do you think they knew each other?”

  “Maybe, but these kids didn’t ride a bus. Unless they were in the same grade or played sports together, it’s less likely they’d have daily interaction, right?” I hated poking holes in his theory, but what Jackson had so far was thin. We needed something more substantial if we were going to tie the kids to the necromancer.

  I went back to studying the obituaries. There had to be something there or Smithie wouldn’t have told me to start there.

  “What do a banker, a lawyer and a businessman all have in common?” An idea was forming somewhere in the recesses of my mind; I just needed to talk it through. Doing that with another person was an interesting change of pace. Previous brainstorming sessions involved me, myself and I.

  “Is that a joke?” The Sin Eater looked up from the scrap paper where he’d jotted down all of his notes.

  “If it is I don’t know the punchline.” There had to be something there with the parents, something other than the word prominent, which seemed to be the media’s go-to adjective when describing the parents. “Maybe the kids aren’t connected to each other, but they connect the parents.”

  “Makes sense.” Jackson took control of the laptop, running a quick search on the parents. “They’re connected, all right. Global-Com, some kind of A.I. tech company.” He scratched the stubble growing along his jaw. “Why is he leaving a trail for you to follow? It’s like he wants to get caught.”

  “Or he wants to catch me.” The necromancer was in league with a ninth level demon. A demon who was looking to stage a coup, a little corporate restructuring at the Department of Soul Acquisitions, so to speak. What better way to gain the advantage than by getting your hands on Apollyon’s most prized possession?

  There was just one flaw in the demon’s plan. Big A was the Morningstar, the most beloved and first to fall because he wanted more. He wanted it all. And, according to him, he got it. All nine levels of it. He valued that more than anything. Including me.

  “Hey, I know that guy.” I pointed to a man in the back of a photo of the funeral procession pictured in the local paper’s online story about the last victim. “I’ve seen him before. I think he’s one of my cases.” Sliding the laptop closer, I opened a new tab on the web browser and logged back in to the D.S.A. network. “There, see?” I pulled up the file. “Jonathan Parker. And wouldn’t you know it, he works for Global-Com. Want to go for a run?”

  “You know how much I love to watch you work.” Jackson winked. A devilish smile formed on his face as he powered down the laptop and collected our notes. Grabbing a messenger bag off the couch, he shoved everything inside and slung the strap across his chest. “Ready?”

  “Try not to poach this one.” I shook my head, unable to stop myself from smiling in return.

  “I’ll try to restrain myself.” Jackson headed to the door, holding it open for me. “Of course, I c
ould grease the wheels, get things going, by offering absolution?”

  “While I appreciate the offer, Sin Eater, we’re going to question him”—I wagged a finger between us— “and then I’m going to collect him.”

  “Just trying to help.” Jackson shut and locked the door behind us. “Want me to drive?”

  “I could get used to having a chauffeur.” I handed over the keys to Cooper. “I’m going to sit in the back. You know, to get the full experience.”

  FOURTEEN

  JONATHAN PARKER DIDN’T LIVE in Roland Park, but a slightly less well-off neighborhood inside the city limits. While he wasn’t living the life of a Rockefeller, he wasn’t slumming it by anyone else’s standards either. Based on the blueprints included in his file, Mr. Parker lived in a top floor condominium in the swanky new complex that had been squeezed on the last section of property available for development within a fifty-mile radius.

  Every case file came with blueprints, schematics, full background checks, complete contract details, and anything else we might need to bag and tag our soul. A few of my cohorts went full-on tactical, dropping in like a one-person SWAT team, whereas I preferred a subtler approach. I had no intention of rappelling down a building to catch my mark, when I could walk right through the front door.

  “Follow my lead.” Popping open the glove box, I shuffled through random papers, the owner’s manual for Cooper and my registration until I found what I was looking for. A shiny detective badge dangling from a heavy chain. After looping the chain over my neck, I unfastened my seatbelt and got out of the car.

  “After you, Detective Wright.” Jackson’s arms rested on the roof of the car, a smile on his face.