Menolly pressed her hand to her lips, her eyes glistening with red tears. “You have to be back by the equinox—that’s when Nerissa and I are holding our promise ceremony.”
“I will be. Don’t you worry—I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Iris turned to Camille. “And you…will you be okay?”
Camille nodded. “We will be fine…all of us. Hanna knows what to do, and we are safe here. But please, take care. Bruce, guard her and watch over her. Iris is our sister. Let nothing happen to her.”
He straightened his shoulders. “I will, my lady. Trust me—Iris is my joy and my life. And she carries my child. I will guard them both with my life. But now, we must go. My family waits outside.”
As they headed toward the door, Camille started to follow, then stopped. We had gone as far as we could. The next two weeks were Iris’s to live, without us there, in joy with her new family. Even though I knew she’d be coming back, I began to cry, softly. Life was changing. I only prayed that the future wouldn’t tear us apart. Because while I now knew I could weather change…I couldn’t weather being alone.
Chapter 10
A mist was rising off the street, as I looked around, confused for a moment. Then I realized it was night, and raining, and the raindrops pounded against the city pavement with a staccato drumbeat, hard and fast. The puddles glimmered beneath the streetlights, rippling with each new drop that shattered the surface.
As I looked around, getting my bearings, I realized that this wasn’t exactly a dream—I was out on the astral, in spirit, and I knew who had summoned me.
“Greta? Are you here?” I called out the name of my trainer—the leader of the Death Maidens.
After a moment, the petite redhead slipped from out of the shadows and glided over to me, in a robe the color of twilight. Her forehead bore the same tattoo as my own crescent, burning brightly with a flame in the center, and her arms were tattooed like mine, only more intricate and vibrant. Mine would someday be just as vivid.
“Good, you begin to recognize my energy signature. But let us travel. I have a job for you tonight, and it will not be easy.” She turned to me, eyeing me up and down. “You need to wear a robe for this. Living or not, when you formally take part in ceremonies, you’ll have to wear the uniform.”
“I don’t have one.” I had no clue how to change clothes on the astral, but she held out her hand and a long garment appeared, draped over her forearm. She handed it to me.
“I’ll teach you how to change your clothes on the astral. It’s a simple matter of focusing your thoughts. You’re naked in your bed right now, aren’t you?” She smiled. “But here you are dressed in jeans and T-shirt.”
I glanced down. She had a good point. Somehow, I had managed to dress myself when pulled out by her call, so I should be able to change clothes. I accepted the robe and held it up. I could just put it on, but I wanted to learn her trick.
“What do I do if I want to mentally shift the clothing?”
“Focus on your body and ‘see’ it in a different outfit. Close your eyes and feel the image shifting.” She smiled. “It helps to think of it not as magic—especially since you don’t work magic—but as a mental shift. A perceptual transformation. Think of it like when you shift into animal form.”
I closed my eyes and lowered my head, feeling the heavy robe in my hands. Picturing myself standing there, I mentally shifted the robe out of my hands to cover my jeans and tee. Nothing happened. I tried again, this time imagining the robe hovering around me and sliding onto my body. Again—nothing. Finally, irritated, I silently ordered the robe to get the hell on my back. And this time, the material shifted, vanished, and I suddenly felt the weight of it hanging from my shoulders.
Opening my eyes, I looked down. I was wearing the robe. Greta handed me a tasseled belt and I stared at the fringe for a moment, but controlled my urge to play with it. Somehow, I didn’t think she’d be as lenient as my sisters were about the G-string.
I wrapped it around my waist and cinched it tight. “Okay, I think I have that down. What’s on the agenda tonight?”
For the past few months, I’d been training under the new moon with Greta, but we’d just passed the new moon a week or so back, and I had the feeling this was a special situation. I’d learned a lot in the training sessions we’d had so far, but something shifted in my stomach and I could sense a big lesson on the horizon.
“Tonight will not be easy for you. Come…you are going to be asked to put into action all that you’ve learned.” She looked at me, her face impassive. Greta was petite, far shorter than I, and yet she carried herself with a power and grace that I could only imagine possessing.
As I met her gaze, I realized what she meant. Tonight, I would take my first soul—I would be the conduit to guide someone out of the physical. “You want me to kill someone…”
“No…you must stop calling it that. Their destiny is set, but you will help with the transition. This is a great responsibility. You have learned to control yourself when you are in panther form. You no longer fear taking down opponents with your Death Maiden powers without permission. Now, you must actually willingly use them.”
She took my hand and we began to travel. We sped through the streets, faster than I could ever hope to move when not on the astral, as the steady rain poured around us. At our speed, the drops turned into bullets, sleeting against the ground as they pummeled the pavement. We raced through the night, dark shadows, harbingers of death.
The world fell away and we passed out of the city proper, toward the Sound. It was so dark, I wasn’t sure just where we were, but the neighborhood looked familiar, even in the dark. We passed a huge park and my stomach began to flutter. I knew several Weres who lived in this area, and I really didn’t want to think about what I might be heading into. Katrina, and Siobhan, they both lived up in this direction.
Please, I whispered to myself as we ran, please, don’t let us be targeting one of them. I couldn’t bear it if I had to take part in transitioning one of my good friends across the veil. I didn’t want my face to be the last they saw.
But we turned before we reached the street leading to Katrina’s, and we were still well out of distance of Siobhan’s house. I sucked in a deep breath—even though out here on the astral I didn’t need to breathe—and watched as Greta sped ahead toward a little house on a corner lot. The lot was surrounded by a chain-link fence. A chaise lounge and small side table sat out in front, both soaked through. Greta stopped by the gate and turned to me.
“Do you recognize this place?” She waited for me to take a long look at it. I frowned, taking it in. I didn’t remember ever coming here. After a moment I shook my head.
“I don’t think so, and yet, there is something familiar about it.”
“That’s because you know the owner and you can feel his energy even out here. And here, on the astral, this house—this yard, all have his signature embedded into what you see.” She motioned for me and I followed her as we slid right through the gate and headed toward the house. The next moment, we were standing inside at a man who was watching a late-night science fiction movie. And then I knew.
“Wylie.” I swallowed, hard. Wylie’s mother had a sense of humor when she named him. She was a coyote shifter. And so was Wylie. He had become a regular at the Supe Community Meetings. Strong, lean, and a little rough around the edges, he’d still thrown himself into helping out with planning committees and everything else we might need. He was a loner. As far as I knew he didn’t have a girlfriend, but he never had a harsh word for anybody, at least that I had seen.
“Is it really his time?” I didn’t want to believe it. Wylie was still young, as far as Weres went.
Greta turned to me. “There is much more,” she said softly, her eyes dark as the ocean. “You need to take his soul through yours. This one, you cannot just consign to the afterlife. He’s not headed for an easy end, Delilah.”
I started. “What? You want me to…” Pausing, I strove to
remember what she had taught me. Some souls we collected for the gods when they couldn’t, for one reason or another. Others, we helped transition to the afterlife because they deserved it. And still others, we condemned and sent to oblivion. All of this, we did when the Autumn Lord sent down orders.
“Wylie Smith has upset the balance, bringing too much chaos into a situation. The Hags of Fate have decreed that his soul be sent to the cleansing fires.” She stood back, crossing her arms. “You must collect his soul, Delilah. There are things you need to know. Grandmother Coyote spoke with the Autumn Lord, and he has ordered it be done.”
Grandmother Coyote and Hi’ran? This must be big. I stared at her, nervously tugging at my robe. I didn’t want to do this. “How is he going to die?”
“He has a weak heart. As he watches his movie, the rhythm will begin to falter, then seize. He is due for cardiac arrest and will not have time to get to the phone. You will be waiting to collect his soul as he dies. You will examine the images, then consign his soul to the abyss.” Her words came out, a neutral flow of information. This was old hat to her.
“You’ve done this so many times…does it get easier?” I glanced over at Wylie, who didn’t seem to have a clue that within a few minutes, he’d be dead and his soul cast into oblivion to be cleansed and returned to the primal pool. Part of me wanted to warn him, to give him a chance to right whatever wrongs he’d done, but that wasn’t an option.
“No. But each time, I understand my place in the world a little bit more. And so, in time, will you. Do you remember the rites I taught you?” She waited patiently, not pushing me.
I nodded, slowly. I remembered them, but it hadn’t fully registered that I’d actually have to use them. Now, there was no avoiding the reality: I was a Death Maiden and while I was still training, my days of standing by as an observer were over. I couldn’t very well wear the title without earning it.
“Yeah, I do. You said I have to take his soul through mine?” I’d done this accidentally a couple of times, but never deliberately.
She nodded. “Grandmother Coyote decreed that you need to do this.”
When the Hags of Fate made a suggestion, it was an order. Even if you were a god. Or a Death Maiden. I steadied myself, running through the steps, until I was sure I remembered their order. As I stared at Wylie, I tried to see him as something other than a friendly acquaintance. If he truly did have secrets and had upset the balance, maybe there was something I didn’t know that would make it easier. But the only way I’d find out would be to go through with the rite.
I looked over at Greta, who was watching me carefully. “This is a test, isn’t it?”
She shook her head. “No. If I were to test you, I’d make it a friend—someone dear to your heart. To see if you could go through with it.”
“Have you ever had to…collect the soul of a friend?” Our eyes met and I held her fast. Wanted to see her reaction.
She gazed steadily at me, and then slowly blinked. “Yes.” Her voice was a whisper on the wind, the rattle of dried corn husks. “My own mother.”
I lowered my head. I couldn’t imagine doing that. “I’m sorry. I…that would be hard to bear.”
“It was difficult. I learned too much about her. Things I didn’t want to know. But she went on to the afterlife, and I was able to let go after a while. It helped that she was beloved by many, and that her secrets weren’t the kind to make me sorry she’d birthed me.”
Greta put her hand on my arm. “You will not be sorry you do this. And truly, you have no choice. You are the Master’s servant. He has appointed this task to you—and Grandmother Coyote asked for you to do it.”
I straightened my shoulders. It was time to man up.
Motioning to Greta, I said, “I’m ready. When…?”
I had to wait until he was on the verge of death before I sucked out his soul. I could do so several ways. With the courageous and those who deserved a hero’s death, it would be with a kiss. With Wylie, it would be different.
She closed her eyes briefly. “You have…when his clock strikes three twelve, his heart will fail, and you will collect his soul.” She motioned to the mantel, where a chiming clock sat. It read three ten.
I prepared myself, standing beside him, waiting. He had no clue I was here, waiting. He had no knowledge, no sense that he was about to die. As I stared down at him, trying to corral my emotions, I felt a spark flare from deep within. There it was—the trigger that Greta had taught me to look for.
It started as a small flicker, but I fanned it to life, nurtured it, coaxed it out and quickly, the flames ignited to a bonfire. When I looked at my target again, Wylie no longer resembled the man I knew, but instead a beacon, ready to explode. The urge to gather him up, to pull him to me was so strong that I had to hold back as I hovered on the edge of time, waiting for the clock to count down his last seconds.
And then, he suddenly clutched at his left arm, and—with a frightened look—stared directly at me.
“Delilah—” His whispered plea was his last, as he began to leave his body. Before he could run, I reached out and touched him, sucked his memories deep into my own. We vanished into a field of mist and shadow, where the moon watched from high over head, a sliver of first light.
And then…
Flash. Wylie sat in a room, meeting with other coyote shifters, only I sensed they weren’t from the local community. They sat around a table that looked oddly familiar. I’d seen it somewhere before. I racked my brain but couldn’t place it, though I’d seen the carved patterns on the edge before.
Then, the door opened and Van and Jaycee entered, with another man—large, bald, and dangerous looking. A Vin Diesel look-alike but with a surly sneer instead of a sexy smile. He was wearing a pendant with a stunning sapphire in the center. One of the spirit seals. He fingered it and I could feel the clash of energy waging as he summoned a dark spirit through it…
Flash. An ancient man, holding his hands up as an explosion of fire came racing out of his fingers to destroy an entire village. As the smoke roiled off the burning buildings, the screams of women and children echoed through the ash-filled sky. Flames leaped from rooftop to rooftop, catching on the thatch as the village burned to the ground. The sorcerer began to laugh as people ran into the streets, burning like torches. A little girl looked up at him and held out her hands before he engulfed her in another wave of flame.
Flash. Wylie, handing a thick bundle of cash over to Van and Jaycee along with a piece of paper. I leaned closer and saw the schedule for the Supe Community Council printed on it. A sick grin sidled across his face as he said, “Stupid idiots will find out why the Koyanni are nothing to mess with.”
Flash. Wylie, meeting with a man who looked as old as time, and as maddened. He looked crafty, and the smell of death and decay hung heavy around his shoulders.
Flash. Wylie, with a woman, beating her senseless as she cowered, trying to fend off his blows. As she crawled toward the door, he gave her a swift kick. “Get out of here, you bitch. And take your fucking rugrat with you.” And then I saw the little boy standing in the corner, thumb in his mouth, crying as he watched, eyes wide.
Flash. Wylie, with Van and Jaycee again, talking to someone who was so pale he looked sick. And then the man laughed, and a flash of fangs told me he was a vampire. He pushed a picture of Trixie over to Wylie, who nodded.
Sickened, I slammed the door to his memories. I’d seen enough. Wylie turned to me as I laid hold of his collar and lifted him off his feet.
“What are you doing to me? What’s going on?” Fear flashed in his eyes, but I didn’t care.
“Fires of the void, come forth to my bidding. Cleanse this soul and pass it through your center.” As he struggled, a roar from the skies echoed through the swirling mist, and a wave, riding the night wind, came rushing down to clamor against us. I held him fast against the raging gale.
Wylie screamed, his cries echoing in the night, but a sudden thirst for justice rolled throu
gh me and I let out a laugh that reverberated through the night.
“Scream as loud as you want. No one can help you. Wylie Smith, the Hags of Fate have sealed your destiny. Prepare for oblivion.”
The wave of fire rushed over him, a purple flame burning through his essence, clearing the energy and rendering it harmless. As understanding washed through his eyes, he let out one last scream and then, with a final roar, the flames reduced his soul to ashes and swept them up, carrying them away.
“I am the instrument of judgment,” I whispered, reaching toward the sky as Wylie Smith vanished forever from the eternal cycle—his consciousness gone forever. His soul was harmless energy floating forever in the great pool from which all life sprang.
As I lowered my hands, I blinked and was standing back next to Greta. I turned to her and she smiled softly.
“Well done, my dear.”
There were so many questions I wanted to ask, and yet I couldn’t phrase them. I didn’t even know if I really understood what they were.
“Why didn’t we end up in the training garden—where you took Ronald Wyndham Niece to deliver his soul to Valhalla?” I looked around. We were still standing in Wylie’s house, albeit on the astral level. The first time Greta had come for me we’d been in a wild, forested grove with a training circle made of bronze, covered in magical symbols.
“Because that place is reserved for those who deserve a beautiful transition. Who deserve a hero’s farewell. There is a darker place where we can take the worst of the worst, but since this was your first official solo, I decided to make it easier on you. The next training session, I will take you through all the places we collect our souls and teach you how to get there.”
She stood back. “Do you understand why you were assigned to him?”
I closed my eyes, the kaleidoscope of images from Wylie’s mind running through my head. I’d thought him a nice, gentle person, and totally misjudged him. He’d been a traitor, a spy…and he’d helped kill Exo and the others. He may not have planted the explosive, but he’d been as responsible for their deaths as if he’d tossed the canya himself.
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