Soul Fire

by D. N. Erikson

  “And why would I do such a thing for you?” The word dripped with enough contempt to fill a bathtub.

  Looked like Lucille was playing hardball.

  But she didn’t want her little kingdom to burn. If she went all scorched earth tomorrow, the gods might not depose her, but they certainly wouldn’t be pinning any medals to her chest. And she’d be a queen without a country.

  I played my last remaining ace-in-the-hole and said, “I found Drake’s treasure map.”

  “Pilfering the map from me on that beach does not qualify as finding it, Reaper.”

  “Tell it to a judge.” I watched Kai pick up a bullet casing with a pen. “Facts are this: I have it and you don’t.”

  “I should kill you for this insolence.”

  “But you won’t,” I said. “Because I’ll give you the map.”

  “If?”

  “If you beg your fellow deities to speed up the guardian selection process.” On your hands and knees, preferably.

  But I didn’t say that.

  After all, I would hate to be insolent.

  “You request impossible things.”

  “Do you know what Drake’s treasure is?” I asked.

  “Of course.” From the tenor of her voice, she had no fucking clue.

  Bad liars. Had to love them.

  “Tell me, then.”

  “It is you who do not know.”

  “You’ve heard of the Sword of Damocles, yes?” I wasn’t playing this game. Not with her. “I’ve heard it’s rather dangerous to immortal beings.”

  There was an audible gasp on the other end of the line. Then, a protracted silence. Finally, Lucille said, “Such a weapon is of little concern to me.”

  “Here’s what happens if you don’t come through.” I let the threat simmer over the line for a couple seconds. “I’m going to take that map. I’m going to give it to Aldric. And then I’m going to have him drive that sword straight through your fucking heart.”

  She said, too smug for her own good, “We have a soul-binding agreement. You brokered it yourself, Reaper.”

  “You know what they say, Lucille. Contracts are made to be broken.”

  From my tone, she must’ve gotten that I was serious, because her response was shaky. “B-be that as it may, I fear no vampire.”

  I outright snorted. Aldric might not have had a god’s blood flowing through his veins, but he’d stood toe-to-toe with the rain goddess on that beach and acquitted himself well. Even ripped a chunk off of her little lapdog, Fenrir.

  “I’m too busy for your bullshit,” I said. “Call me when it’s done.”

  I hung up before she could say anything.

  Having leverage over immortal beings was immensely satisfying.

  A quick glance at Kai indicated he wasn’t finished with bureaucratic matters, so I had one of the EMTs bandage my wounded wrist as I waited.

  Ten minutes later—finally finished—the broad-shouldered agent approached the ambulance. “You look exhausted.”

  “Is that a nice way of saying I look like shit?”

  “You never look bad, Eden.” Kai looked away, into the distance. “I just think you could use some rest.”

  “And let you snatch all the glory?” I asked. The EMT finished dressing the wound and told me I could go. I slid off the back of the ambulance and started walking away. “Ready?”

  “I can’t understand why Rayna would be released.” Kai’s eyes searched me for an explanation, but I had a good poker face. “That would’ve been a real win for Aldric’s attorneys.”

  “Maybe the cops didn’t like her, either.” I caught him smiling—briefly. “That it for questions?”

  “I received a package containing security footage.”

  “You know what they say,” I said as we reached his SUV. “When it rains, it pours.”

  “Your lead?”

  Yes, before snore-inducing matters like forensic analysis and bureaucracy had so rudely interrupted, I was going to tell him about a lead. “Tamara told me Xavier Deadwood was up hanging around a carnival. Before he died.”

  Kai paused a beat, then nodded. “The woman in the leather.”

  “You like what you saw?”

  He coughed and skirted the question. “And she is an associate of his, or—”

  “Dude was holding her hostage, waiting for me to show up. Figured I’d bring her Anya’s soul to crack the case. Ended up having Tamara eat his soul instead.”

  Kai blinked twice as he processed this information. Then he nodded, like what I’d said was standard investigatory procedure. He had a mysterious magical background that I hadn’t dug into, so the whole Soul Eater revelation could be taken in stride.

  “Find anything else out?”

  “Tasted like shit, apparently, but some solid intel from his last day. Visual and audio, no thoughts. But still better than a surveillance camera.”

  With that, Kai shrugged and moved on. “Why the carnival?”

  “He was looking for Samantha Williams and Thomas Johns.” I watched as Kai went to the trunk and pulled out a bulletproof vest, strapping it on over his Oxford shirt.

  He extended one to me and I blew him off.

  After a second, he sighed, and tossed it back into the vehicle, knowing I wouldn’t be convinced.

  What the hell would a vest do against crows, anyway?

  “Deadwood find them?”

  “Got in a gun battle just outside the parking lot,” I said. “Well, Deadwood was shooting. Samantha was sending those fucking crows.”

  Kai’s grimaced. Getting attacked by a sea of birds was not a fond memory for either of us. “Heard about a few shots fired on the scanner. Didn’t figure it for Deadwood.”

  “Well, I guess he didn’t like birds, because he ran here.” I jerked my head toward the Players Pad. “Then he took Tamara hostage in this fine place. Was hoping I’d show up with the soul. Guess he had good instincts.”

  Not good enough to keep his head, though.

  “Those shots were only a couple hours ago,” Kai said. “They could still be hanging around the carnival.”

  I met his stoic gaze. “Worth a shot.”

  “Then let’s finish this thing.” Kai winked as he echoed my earlier words.

  After four years alone, it was nice for someone to have my back.

  42

  The carnival had set up shop in the no man’s land between the city and the suburbs. The jungle had been cleared away for roads—some of which had been constructed—and urban development—most of which hadn’t. When the money had stopped flowing, the once-green grass had baked and crumbled in the bright sun. Even in late fall, the grass remained sunburned, more dirt and hay than an actual field.

  “Doesn’t seem like a place for a shootout.” Kai leaned over the wheel, staring at the bright neon lights flickering in the afternoon sun.

  “Appearances can be deceiving.” We rolled into the parking lot, and I pointed to a couple Crown Vics. “Local cops are still here.”

  Kai nodded and got out. I stayed by the car as he handled jurisdictional matters. After a couple minutes spent talking to Atheas PD, he returned.

  “They say a silver-haired perp started firing shots at one of the performers.”

  “Performer?”

  “The woman who runs an attraction called The Tent of Authentic Illusion.” Kai looked up at the Ferris wheel. “Carnies told the cops she hadn’t come to work for a couple days. Were surprised to see her today.”

  “Samantha Williams?”

  “Went by Sammi Johns, apparently,” Kai said. “But description matches. Shots fired, then a flock of black birds descended on the guy from the sky, and he ran. Had to be her.”

  “Any idea where she went?” I asked.

  “Disappeared after the parking lot altercation. No one’s seen her since.”

  I pursed my lips together, thinking. “Why come back if your cover was blown?”

  “Coming back for a stash, maybe.” Kai scratched th
e dormant sigil on his right arm. “Or she was meeting someone.”

  “Johns,” I said.

  “Could be.”

  “No,” I said, pointing at the entrance. “He’s here.”

  Same guy from the mugshot and the rundown house. Balding and thin, kind of squirrelly looking. Waiting in a small line of families stretching outside a chain-link gate.

  Kai rested his hand on his Glock and started heading across the lot.

  Johns, who was paranoid as hell and had his head on a swivel, spotted the agent before Kai had made it ten steps. The man broke off running, elbowing his way through the line. His hand was clasped to a small child’s—a girl’s.

  “FBI,” Kai shouted, not drawing his service weapon, “stop.”

  Johns didn’t comply. He knocked over the ticket-taker and plunged into the carnival. The musical chime of children laughing turned into screams.

  Kai flashed his badge to part the sea of people. He still didn’t have his weapon out—probably because of all the kids around. This wasn’t the time or place for a shootout.

  Johns and the girl disappeared behind an air rifle target-shooting booth about fifty yards ahead.

  The smell of over-buttered popcorn fought the aroma of stale beer as we dashed through the dust-swept carnival. Pellets popped as we reached the booth. Kai instinctively reached for his pistol.

  Then he shook his head, black hair cascading over his broad shoulders.

  “Up there,” I said as we passed a row of carnival goers aiming at bullseyes. “By the tea cups.”

  An assembly of rickety tea cups spun in a circle. Johns and the girl were just beyond, headed toward the far corner of the carnival. She was on his thin shoulders, now, but it hadn’t slowed his pace. They disappeared behind a funnel cake stand.

  I vaulted a bench, pulling ahead of Kai.

  “Wait, Eden.”

  “Run faster.” I knifed between a couple taking a selfie, and the woman let out an ugh. Two security guards approached, ready to cut me off by the funnel cakes.

  I dug into my wallet and flashed my new consulting badge. “FBI.”

  They didn’t move. I could dodge them, but the path was narrow and clogged with people. “Ma’am, you need to slow—”

  “Fucking FBI.” The laminated ID card flashed in the sunlight, and the words must’ve finally processed, because they both stepped aside right before I was about to bowl into them.

  Kai pounded past the stand, trailing by a few steps.

  Still processing the FBI logo on the ID card, the guard called to me, “Oh.”

  Beyond a swinging pendulum ride—this one a pirate ship, paint stripped and weathered by one too many carnie seasons—I spotted a small canvas tent.

  Johns and the girl disappeared inside.

  That had to be the Tent of Authentic Illusion.

  “There.” I glanced over my shoulder to find Kai falling further behind. I slowed down and shot him a look. “Thought you’d be faster.”

  He said, “Someone’s been training.”

  I couldn’t attribute this one to the Gauntlet Root. That had long since worn off—as witnessed by my lack of ninja skills at the Players Pad.

  But at least all those late-night runs on the beach were paying dividends.

  A sign outside the tent declared that only two people were allowed inside at one time. The soft-glowing lanterns hanging off the canvas had a slightly sinister tint, suggesting this was a bad place.

  Shockingly, no line of people stood around to see what illusions awaited them inside.

  With a sudden burst of speed, Kai cut me off as I made a move for the entrance. “We don’t know what we’re walking into.”

  “They’re in there,” I said, trying to get around him. No use. The flap was one person wide.

  “And a cornered snake is the most dangerous.”

  “Johns has a girl with him,” I said. “Could be a hostage.”

  Or it could be his motive.

  Before Kai could answer, a pair of guys stumbled out of the tent—college kids, stoners from the look of it—exited, looking disoriented. One almost pitched into the grass before his buddy caught his baggy shirt.

  They couldn’t squeeze around Kai, so one said, “Hey, bro, get out of the way.”

  “Did you see a woman in there?” Kai asked.

  “You mean the chick who’s supposed to run this thing?” The guy’s face was ash white. “Total fuckin’ psycho, man.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Hell, I just want to get—”

  I stepped into the conversation by shoving the ID card in his face. “FBI. Start talking.”

  He looked about ready to crap himself. His friend, a bit shorter and rounder, said in a shaky voice, “She like, I don’t know man. It was some voodoo shit.”

  “Voodoo?”

  “You know, dust swirling. Wind. Thunderbolts. Told us she’d kill us if we didn’t get the hell out of there.”

  By voodoo, he apparently meant regular magic. Couldn’t blame him for the lack of accuracy. He had no idea the real thing actually existed.

  I recalled the gusting sigil on Samantha’s body.

  That had to be responsible.

  “Anything else?” I asked.

  “We don’t know—”

  “Think.”

  The taller one bit his lip and said, “I think she was digging, man.”

  “Digging for what?”

  “Goddamn, wasn’t like I stopped to ask questions after that lightning shit.” He hung his head, beleaguered. “Saw metal flash. Gold, maybe?”

  “A bracelet?” I asked.

  “Yeah, yeah,” the short one said. “Definitely a bracelet.”

  It was hard for me to know the extent of Samantha Williams’s powers, but it seemed she channeled the power through the magical items adorning her body. The sigils alone weren’t enough.

  I peered at both of them hard. “You see her leave? A guy come in with a kid, maybe?”

  They both shook their heads no. The rounder one said, “Come on, lady, we just want to get the hell outta here.”

  Kai stepped aside, and they hurried away as fast as their stoned asses could run.

  I shot a glance at Kai. “Contingency plan and a meet-up.”

  He nodded, dialed his phone, and had a quick conversation. After he hung up, he said, “Backup is at least twenty minutes out.”

  “That’s a long time.”

  “This whole place is in danger unless we stop them.” Kai finally unholstered his service weapon and checked the magazine. “Let’s go.”

  I flung the rough canvas flap open and ducked inside, pulse pounding. Instead of a massive empty space—which was kind of what I was expecting, given the effort level of the corresponding carnival—Samantha Williams had apparently put actual time into this attraction.

  A crude minotaur’s maze stretched before us, crafted from crudely spray-painted plywood. The wooden walls stretched up to the tent’s canopy, about fifteen feet in the air. The entrance to the maze sat not three feet from the flap where we’d entered, a corresponding exit to its left.

  The exit was walled off.

  I touched the wood, and it felt real.

  I asked, “What the hell is this?”

  “I was hoping you could answer that,” Kai said.

  “Welcome to the Tent of Authentic Illusion,” Samantha Williams’s voice announced, buzzing from unseen—and cheap—speakers. “Agent Taylor and Eden Hunter, it is a pleasure to meet again.”

  From her tone, it didn’t sound like she was telling the truth.

  “Give up the kid, Williams!” I shouted into the plywood maze.

  “We’ve been expecting you.” She laughed breezily. “You are today’s last visitors. As such, you will receive the most authentic of the illusions.”

  “Lucky us,” I said beneath my breath.

  “You are sarcastic now, Eden Hunter. Perhaps you will be less so after this experience.”

  Kai said, �
�Let the child go.”

  The voice turned hard. “I will never let my child go again.”

  In an instant, the case clicked together. I recalled Cross’s words: Men act for two reasons.

  Fear.

  And love.

  Before I could respond, a giant lick of blue flame burst across the canvas.

  And then Samantha Williams said, “You had better run. Unless you wish to get burned.”

  43

  My reptilian brain—you know, the one in charge of all the fight or flight and blacked-out-drunk decisions—screamed for me to move. The exit flap behind us was devoured by flame, making the maze our only chance of escape.

  Kai had already kicked it into gear, disappearing around the corner.

  Blue light danced across the dirty canvas.

  But you can’t lie to a liar.

  Well, you can—but this time you couldn’t.

  “Stop running, dumbass.”

  Kai, out of sight, replied, “It’s burning.”

  “Then let it burn.” I cocked my head at the ceiling and smirked. “You’re wouldn’t do anything to endanger your child.”

  “You assume that I am within the tent,” Samantha replied.

  “I’ll bet my life that you are.”

  Bold move, sure.

  The flames extinguished themselves. I could hear Kai panting about two plywood partitions away. After a minute, he slunk back into view, looking sheepish.

  “You passed the first trial,” the voice crackled over the speaker. “The next one—”

  “Is gonna be my foot through your fucking face.” I chipped the plywood with a sharp kick, revealing the ugly beige hiding beneath the cheap black paint. The maze rattled and rocked. “If you keep wasting our time. The entire FBI’s on its way.”

  “No.” Williams sounded panicked, like this wasn’t part of the plan. “You don’t understand.”

  “Murder? Endangering an entire island? Probably not.”

  “Losing your only child.”

  I bit my lip, not answering. Finally, I said, “You can’t trade one life for many. The ends don’t justify the means.”

  “They do to me.”

  “Let’s talk about this.”

  After a long pause, during which I heard her confer with a man—obviously Johns—over the microphone, Williams said, “Then enter the center ring.”