Soul Fire

by D. N. Erikson

“I can’t just look the other way, Eden. It’s my job.”

  “Your job is to keep us from all ending up dead,” I said.

  “And why would that happen?”

  “Why would someone try to kill a phoenix’s guardian? Why would a wolf come back to life?” I retorted with a sharp shrug. “Some weird shit’s been going down today.”

  “It’s obstruction, Eden.” His eyes were serious. “This island needs rules.”

  His honesty made me like him, but goddamn was it annoying. “You let Rayna slide.”

  I’d told him about her involvement in the gold heist—how she had helped Cross and the rest of the crew steal thirteen million from Aldric. Kai hadn’t snitched on her. “I can’t excuse that.”

  “Here’s your excuse,” I said, putting my hand on his strong chest. “It’s for the greater good.”

  “That’s a slippery slope.”

  “Then pack good shoes,” I said.

  Kai winced, but still followed me back into the cramped office.

  Edgar’s stubby fangs clicked out when we entered, more in frustration than in self-defense. He was over by a cabinet in the corner.

  “Been busy trying to destroy more evidence?” I asked.

  “I may have made a copy of the Phoenix Protocol.” He thumbed through the contents of a warped folder and let out a colossal groan. “Or, rather, one of the pages.”

  “Hand it over,” I said, snapping my fingers.

  He obliged, giving me a yellowing, crinkled sheet. It was stamped page forty-three—the middle of the file, judging by how thick the folder had felt—so many of the details lacked context.

  One thing didn’t, however.

  I read the words twice to myself, just to make sure I wasn’t imagining things.

  “The entire territory will burn, should the situation grow unmanageable.”

  I’d gone from just trying to solve a murder to being responsible for the entire island’s survival.

  No pressure, right?

  12

  Truth be told, a hero’s burden didn’t sit comfortably on my shoulders.

  But even if I didn’t want to save everyone else, I still had my own ass to worry about.

  Because I was stuck here, thanks to the soul-binding agreement I’d signed with Aldric.

  No leaving.

  Forever.

  Which meant if Atheas burned in a hail of fire and brimstone, then I’d be burning with it.

  Kai glanced at me through the window of his SUV as I rode beside him down the jungle road. We’d milked Edgar for every last piece of intel, and we were still stuck in the dark. A search through the FBI’s database had yielded nothing on Xavier Deadwood.

  He certainly fit the build—one hundred eight pounds—that could have left the shoeprint on the steppes. Covered in red dust, too. It looked promising.

  But without a body, or a motive, it was just a theory.

  And finding a resurrected man was hard work.

  I needed some other angles to explore, yesterday. But I was fresh out of ideas on where to find them.

  Tamara was a dead end without Cross’s help—although I doubted he even had the slightest clue where to start looking.

  The phoenix had flown off with Anya’s body—taking with him any forensic evidence that might definitively link Deadwood to the crime.

  And all I had was a crinkly page from the Phoenix Protocol and the vague words of a gray-haired wolf: It’s happened—their plan was a success.

  I didn’t like the sound of that.

  The moon was just beginning to creep over the horizon as I pulled the bike in behind Kai’s SUV on the service road. Macaws and monkeys chattered over one another in the rustling treetops. I put the kickstand up and camouflaged the bike with leaves.

  Without any other options, I’d have to get answers straight from the source.

  The DSA.

  I called Sierra, but my sister didn’t answer. Probably busy doing some job for Lucille. I suspected Sierra had been ducking my messages for the past couple weeks as a form of silent protest. Working for the DSA wasn’t exactly fun.

  But this was urgent—no time for petty grievances. I’d gotten her that damn job to save her life, anyway. A little thanks was in order.

  I whipped out the folded Phoenix Protocol sheet and snapped a picture, captioning it call me now.

  My command apparently fell on deaf ears, because my phone remained silent.

  Kai stepped out of his SUV. “You all right, Eden?”

  “I can take care of myself.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “I’m fine,” I said, my tone sharp.

  “What if Deadwood returns?”

  An icy chill rode up my back, recalling his words: See you soon. Like he’d recognized me in his post-revival delirium. I brushed it off with an easy smile. “He could’ve killed me down by the cold lockers.”

  Kai nodded, allowing a pleasant silence to settle in. His long, black hair fluttered gently in the breeze. “If you’re sure…”

  “Get some sleep,” I said. “Big day tomorrow, eh?”

  “Right. The psych evaluation.” He nodded and headed toward his vehicle.

  My blood chilled. I’d forgotten about that; I’d meant the case. I usually lied my way through everything, but therapists in bad pantsuits had a knack for getting me to open up. As much as the FBI already knew about me—and that was basically everything, according to their top secret file I wasn’t relishing the opportunity to tell them more.

  I waved at Kai as the SUV backed up. A little voice whispered that maybe—just maybe—I should have invited him back to the villa. But I’d lived out here for four years without many houseguests.

  I could survive one more night.

  My phone buzzed as I approached the villa, and I answered without checking the caller ID. “Sierra?”

  “No,” Kai said. “Sorry to disappoint.”

  “Miss me already?”

  “It’s about tomorrow.” His deep, calm voice took the barb in stride. “Eight AM. Don’t be late.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it.” I stared at the villa’s moss-dappled red tiles and orchid-covered stucco. The winding marble staircase glinted softly, its steps dusted with dark sand.

  “I’m serious, Eden. Be careful.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t know what they’re digging for. And neither do you.”

  That didn’t exactly calm my nerves.

  I wearily trotted up the marble stairs. My heart rattled in my chest when I got to the top.

  The front door’s three locks were all open. I had an idea who was inside—my sister, entering with a flourish. Good. I could hash out this Phoenix Protocol business with her and get some damn answers.

  I considered flicking out the Reaper’s Switch just in case, but I was too tired to bother. I tugged on the heavy oak door and slipped inside.

  “Hey, so, what’s with you not returning—”

  I turned toward my bare living room, finding a sharp, familiar face staring intently at me.

  “Shit,” I said, my heart dropping through the bamboo floor.

  “Hello, Eden,” Aldric said. “Why don’t you take a seat?”

  13

  House calls from your boss are never a good thing—especially when your boss is a twenty-five-hundred-year-old warlord. One who had helped sack Rome, no less. Suffice to say, visits from Aldric weren’t something I looked forward to.

  The ancient vampire stroked his well-maintained beard as I trotted sullenly into the living room. His soul enveloped the tall space, crowding out everything else. It was powerful enough that even a non-Reaper could sense it, although others would probably mischaracterize it as talismanic charisma or supreme confidence.

  I knew better.

  I knew he’d had me murdered and then reborn as a Reaper.

  His Reaper.

  And I also knew that, right now, I couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

  My clothes
were strewn over the leather couch—the room’s only piece of furniture other than a lamp. Khan was perched atop a jumble of vintage t-shirts, flicking his striped tail. The black cat arched his back as I sat down, but remained shockingly quiet.

  “To what do I owe this wonderful surprise?” I met Aldric’s hawkish green eyes.

  “Friday has almost arrived, and yet my delivery has not.” He adjusted the cuffs of his imported suit without blinking.

  I glared at him. “It’s Thursday night, asshole.”

  “Our agreement is simple.” His gaze drilled into mine. “Unless you are short.”

  I resisted giving him the finger. “I’m never short.”

  And I never would be. Because I didn’t want to die again.

  “Noon is but fourteen hours away, Eden.” He adjusted his suit’s cuffs. “Down to the wire, as the people of this land would say.”

  “Not really.” I glared into his emerald eyes, trying to get a read on him. But I might as well have been looking into an abyss, for he revealed nothing. Having been turned as a relatively young man after falling in battle against Philip of Macedon, Aldric looked no older than thirty. His close-cropped hair was businesslike, making him easy to mistake as a handsome, harmless entrepreneur if you were unfortunate enough to cross his path in a singles bar. But no well-tailored suit could disguise his murderous nature from me.

  Next to me on the couch, Khan yawned. I gave the cat the side-eye. From his nervous expression, the yawn hadn’t been on purpose.

  If Aldric had frightened Khan into semi-respectful silence, the vampire was a scary bastard indeed.

  Aldric’s Italian loafers squeaked on the unfinished hardwood as he approached. I found myself instinctively shrinking into the couch.

  “Have you been busy running errands for others?” His deliberate movements contained a coiled power, like a snake considering a sudden strike. Each step was slow and smooth, his lean form cutting the air like a skate across ice. “Need I remind you what happened the last time your employment performance suffered?

  He’d tried to have me killed. A wake-up call, he’d called it.

  I’d called it bullshit.

  But my opinion didn’t really count.

  Against my better judgement, I said, “It’s not like you to come begging for souls, Aldric.”

  The coil snapped.

  His nose was inches from mine before I could draw another breath. The icy emerald eyes bore into mine, demanding answers.

  I was immune to his vampiric charms, unlike most creatures. But I could still feel the tug of his brutal will.

  My pulse hammering like an unhinged jackhammer, I said, “Personal space wasn’t a thing back in the day, huh?”

  My words only wavered a little bit. Admirable, given the circumstances.

  With a mirthless stare, Aldric retreated and began pacing about the mostly empty room. Then the ancient vampire stopped by the large bay window with a sharp, silent finality. Like the last chord in a rock track that cuts off instead of fading to black.

  “Having two full-time jobs is very ambitious.”

  “Who told you about the FBI?” I asked.

  “Eden.” He almost sounded insulted.

  I shouldn’t have been surprised. Aldric’s intelligence network rivaled the CIA’s—at least on his little fiefdom. And I was a key cog in his black market economy. Souls were a potent underworld currency, and I kept his pipeline flowing.

  “I didn’t know you’d replaced Moreland already.” His former Chief of Intelligence had started a little side business after getting sick of playing second fiddle. That hadn’t ended well for poor Moreland. Both he and the alchemy bar he’d started were now defunct.

  Aldric narrowed his eyes, like he was contemplating removing my vocal cords.

  “Your new job certainly has not dulled your tongue. How lucky your new associates must feel.”

  I sensed sarcasm but decided not to comment. I’d pushed him to his breaking point already. “I’m just glad your little intelligence network is up and running again.”

  He adjusted his starched shirt collar. “It shall reestablish itself in time.”

  “How nice to hear.” I strained to make the words feel genuine. Couldn’t wait to feel like I was always being watched from the bushes again.

  Having had enough of our little chat, I rose from the couch.

  “And where are you going?”

  “To get your goddamn souls,” I said.

  The ancient vampire looked chagrined, and Khan purred in muted satisfaction. After heading up the stairs, I grabbed the souls from the hidden wall safe in the empty guest room. I tried to stay ahead of the curve, so I had a few in reserve, even after removing the seven for this week’s quota.

  Anya’s brambly soul sat next to Drake’s treasure map. Blood shone on its jagged, multi-colored edges. Complex indeed. Next to them, I placed the photocopied sheet from the Phoenix Protocol. Then I locked the safe and went down the glass stairs two at a time, eager to be rid of Aldric.

  I offered the plastic bags to Aldric, like this was a drug deal.

  “You are to come to me in the future, Eden.” After a brief inspection, he placed the souls in his perfectly tailored suit jacket. If I didn’t know better, I would’ve sworn I saw the slightest hint of relief wash over his icy face.

  “I always do,” I said, still wondering why he’d come early. “But our deal says noon.”

  “It is when I say.”

  “That’s not what our contract states.”

  “Lest you forget, Eden,” Aldric said, eyes burning with annoyance, “I can revise our contract at any time.”

  I bit my lip and swallowed the rest of my words. He’d done it once before, increasing my quota from five to seven—and my term of indentured service from seven years to indefinite. Additional revisions were unlikely to be in my favor.

  Without saying goodbye, the ancient vampire raced out of the living room. The thick front doors slammed shut, rocking the villa.

  I watched through the large window as Aldric sprinted across the dark sand.

  And if I didn’t know any better, I’d have said that was one very concerned vampire.

  14

  Little footsteps pitter-pattered across the living room floor to join me by the bay window.

  “Did that strike you as a little odd?” I asked, watching as the ancient vampire disappeared into the night. Aldric rarely demonstrated his prodigious powers. The whole restrained strength thing was part of his terrifying aura. But he’d sprinted away like he was training for the goddamn Olympics.

  “The vampire was indeed acting strangely,” Khan said.

  “Did he say something to you?”

  “Some of us possess enough intelligence to read a room.”

  Then the cat cleared his throat and sat on my foot.

  I wasn’t sure why I kept Khan. He wasn’t exactly beautiful. A white stripe ran from his face to the tip of his tail, making him resemble a skunk. Given his prickly disposition, his outer appearance was rather appropriate.

  Realizing I was ignoring him, he growled and said, “I am hungry, human.”

  “Plenty of cat food on the counter,” I said, still staring at the dark beach, reflecting on the strange encounter with Aldric.

  “I have explained many times that such sustenance is cruel and unusual.” The cat mewed in annoyance. “Perhaps I should use smaller words for your benefit.” He drew in a sharp breath and spoke slowly, like I was painfully dumb. “The food you bought sucks.”

  I licked my fingers and ran through an imaginary filing cabinet. “You’ll be pleased to know I filed that under ‘zero.’”

  “Zero?” The cat cocked his head up at me, blue eyes burning with curiosity.

  “For zero fucks given.”

  His gaze narrowed into a lethal glare. “If you do not order me something more conducive to my tastes, then I will refrain from sharing what I know about your case.”

  I stared at the cat, trying to t
ell if he was lying. It was hard enough to do with humans. I had little experience calling feline bluffs. But I still said, “You’re full of crap.”

  “Pizza. Extra pepperoni.” Khan flicked his tail and bounded to the couch. “It is your call, human.”

  I sighed.

  Extorted by your own pet.

  I had the best of allies.

  But for twenty bucks, this would be the cheapest intel I’d gotten in weeks.

  I took a shower to wash the day’s worth of blood, dust, and grime from my skin. Then I headed downstairs, where the cat was shooting me an imperialistic stare.

  “I’m going,” I said, wringing out my damp hair.

  “It had better not be cold.”

  “Beggars can’t be choosers.” As I slipped out the door, I felt like the jungle was watching me. Aldric’s sudden appearance had rattled me.

  “Hello?” I called to the jungle.

  Nothing answered but the nighttime chatter of jungle critters.

  I sighed, shaking off the paranoia.

  It was time to get Khan his pizza.

  Better to be a delivery girl than a coward.

  No restaurants delivered to my remote little slice of paradise, but that was actually a godsend. The bike ride gave me the opportunity to plan my next move.

  My main suspect—indeed, only suspect—in Anya’s murder was a recently revived dead man. Sierra had seen fit to respond to my information request with a single word response: Busy. Cross hadn’t contacted me after speeding off.

  So the heavens weren’t exactly opening up to grant me newfound insight into Anya’s case.

  In the pizza joint’s parking lot, I fired off a text to Renard Martin.

  The kid was eternally grateful that I’d helped him find his mom and sister—and punished the mayor, who had kidnapped them. He’d been helping me out with intel over the past couple months, having built a large network of his own to sling the pre-made spell syringes the mayor had blackmailed him into peddling.

  Renard was resourceful as hell and a total natural. I saw a sliver of me in him—skills that could be pushed toward good, or evil.

  I was hoping to swing the scales toward the former.