Rain Dance (Sunshine & Scythes Book 1)

by D. N. Erikson

  “Don’t do that.” Kai stepped forward to help, but was blasted backward by a sharp, rumbling burst of wind. He disappeared into the foliage at the end of the beach, and the gun-toting werewolf went to retrieve him.

  Lucille’s braid swished back and forth as she stared down at me. Shouts came from up the beach. So much for a surprise confrontation. Now, everyone knew about everyone else, and I was officially screwed.

  Through stinging tears, I said, “Aldric has your soul.”

  She released me, and I crumpled to the ground. Maybe I shouldn’t have been thankful her magic didn’t work on me. The physical beatings hurt, and she’d barely even made an effort. In the distance, over the rollicking waves, a huge lightning bolt sizzled in the sky, lingering longer than any natural weather formation.

  Yup. She could kick my ass and still bend the elements to her whim. This is why you didn’t betray gods. On the other hand, I wouldn’t be here at all had I allowed that wolf to kill me. So, in a way, I was playing with house money all along.

  Funny. They always say that, been when you lose your stack, it still hurts like a son of a bitch.

  I rubbed my bruised arm and got slowly to my feet. Off in the grass, the werewolf dragged Kai out. The searchlights winked out up the beach.

  “I can call him,” I said, reaching for my cell phone. “He’ll probably be amenable to a deal.”

  “It will be my pleasure to kill him.” Lucille cracked her knuckles like she’d been waiting for a good excuse. Not sure why she couldn’t do it before—neither she nor the DSA struck me as concerned about due process. Maybe Aldric was like one of those parasitic critters in an ecosystem that fucked everything up, but was nonetheless a necessity. Like Wall Street traders who claimed they were making the market more efficient.

  “I can really call—”

  Lucille slapped the device from my hands, sending it skittering across the perfect sand. “I will handle this.” She placed two fingers in her mouth and whistled. The werewolf immediately dropped Kai and began a rapid—and painful looking—transformation. When it was done, it trotted over to Lucille’s side and sat down like a loyal dog. It was pure black and had a row of spikes studding its back from neck to tail like sinewy shark fins.

  “Good boy, Fenrir.” Lucille gave her wolf a pat, and it growled with loyal satisfaction.

  I would’ve made a comment, but as I’d said, the whole thing was cosmic. If I’d stood a nonexistent chance against Lucille, how had the odds shifted now that she had the mythical wolf from the Norse legends at her beck and call? It was hard to imagine subzero probabilities of success, but I think I might have been staring them right in the face.

  Lucille pointed to the jungle, and the beast disappeared. She turned to me with a bright smile.

  “Don’t go anywhere, little Reaper. This will only take a moment.”

  There was a shriek in the jungle, followed by gunfire. Snarls erupted, punctuated by brief muzzle flashes. Then there was a loud whine, and one of the spikes hurtled through the air and landed right at Lucille’s feet.

  “You were saying?” I asked, watching the blood seep into the moonlit sand. Aldric might have been an underdog, but he was still not to be underestimated. Fenrir had learned that the hard way. Lucille, for her part, seemed in a state of shock. She stared at the piece of bloodied cartilage, struggling to process how her mythical wolf had failed to dismantle Aldric limb-from-limb. I wanted to say Roman empire, bitch, but now was not the time for such matters.

  Instead, I needed to kickstart things. I backed up so that I was side-by-side with her.

  With a gentle, caring hand, I patted her on the back. “I think your friend needs a little help.”

  There was a yip, followed by a pitiful whine that sounded like a helpless puppy. It almost got my heartstrings going, too, until I remember who the sound belonged to: a four-hundred pound engine of annihilation and, most likely, rabies.

  Lucille stared at the spike, tears in her eyes. “I’ve had him since…since…”

  I would’ve been surprised, but you know what they say. Even a certain infamous dictator loved his dogs. And this crazy bitch was no different, even if her treasured companion was more of a monster. I gave her a firm nudge with my hand, slipping my other into her back pocket. It touched the wrinkled parchment of the glyph-cipher, which I snared with a clean lift.

  It was folded and inside my own pocket before she even reacted. “You’re right, Eden.”

  There was a tremendous clap of thunder, then she sprinted into the forest with nimble grace, headed straight for Fenrir’s pained cries. I didn’t wait for the end result. I had a good idea what that would be, anyway, and had every expectation that the fight would be short and decisive. I picked up the injured wolf’s spike, which felt like a giant gummy bear made of sinew, and then went to check on my ally.

  Kai was on his side, knocked unconscious by the wind blast. After pocketing the spike—which some subconscious voice told me could be useful—I shook the agent’s body, which felt like touching a warm statue. He didn’t stir. The service pistol lay nearby, along with the shreds of Fenrir’s clothes from his sudden transformation. I didn’t try to pick it up; instead, I kicked it closer to the FBI agent, since he was the only one here who could use it. I rose from the grass and tried tugging him by the boot. Instead of him moving, I ended up ass-down on the ground, holding his shoe.

  A tree cracked in the jungle as leaves swirled in the sky from some sort of miniature cyclone.

  Guess Aldric was doing better than I’d thought. That luck couldn’t last, though.

  I yanked the glyph-cipher out of my back pocket and started digging at the edge of the jungle. You know what you do when you’re a squirrel in a land of lions? You bury a lot of acorns for a fucking rainy day. I shoved the map into the damp soil, hoping that the magical enchantments would preserve it from worms and enterprising jungle critters. Then I tossed the dirt back on top and covered it in leaves.

  After checking on Kai, who was still out cold, I began sprinting up the beach, toward the soul-shard’s location. To my left, the forest bent and crackled, intermittent thunder claps and whines scoring what must’ve been a pitched battle. I heard neither Aldric nor Lucille cry out, so I couldn’t tell who was winning.

  My lungs searing, I hit the dig site a few minutes later. The funny thing about a long stretch of beach is that it’s the opposite of your car mirrors—all objects are much farther than they appear. Despite the passing time, however, the battle showed no signs of abating. A small fire had apparently broken out from Lucille’s lightning strikes, judging from the smoke trailing up from the forest.

  The searchlights were set up in a wide ring. Holes dotted the beach—some of them near trees, others on the beach itself. I could see why there had been haphazard confusion—the banyan tree under which they’d dug hadn’t been the correct one. I spotted mine in the darkness, about two hundred yards up the beach, its massive canopy looming.

  I hurried to the large tree and dropped to my knees before the knotty bark. Maybe it did have mystical powers, all things considered. I plunged my fingers into the soil, finding the soul-shard without too much trouble. Its dark energy buzzed up my arm like an unpleasant and particularly infectious virus. I briefly tasted the faint burn of whiskey on my tongue before I slipped it into my pocket.

  A plan formed in my mind. It wasn’t much of one, but it left me with the only chance of not ending the night in a pinewood box. That was enough at this point, so I willed my tired legs back to the dig site and got to work. The battle continued in the forest, although it was less feverish than before. The thunder claps came less often, and the leaves didn’t gust above the treetops with as much intensity. Even immortal goddesses and ancient vampires succumbed to fatigue, apparently.

  I didn’t have that luxury. My arms felt like jelly as I dragged the high powered lamps across the sand, toward the edge of the tide. There were eight of them, which I arranged to focus on a very specific area of the
beach. Then I jammed the soul-shard into the sand and flipped the switch on the generator. A blinding glow cut through the dimness, causing me to shield my eyes.

  That would do.

  Then I walked to the edge of the water and pulled out Fenrir’s severed spike, staring out at the sea as I awaited the final verdict. It dawned on me, standing there, that Moreland was the brains of the upstart soul-reaping organization—not the brawn. Sure, he could have done the wetwork, but that had been his job for Aldric going on a thousand years. He must’ve been sick of getting his hands dirty. He wanted his executive suite, instead of his shitty cabin at the base of Mount Danube.

  So while he’d no doubt ordered the hit, someone else had been the triggerman. My first thought was James. He clearly worked for Moreland—well-pressed suit, snappy dresser. The warlock expected nothing less from his employees, and it was safe to assume that his sartorial affectations carried over to his own entrepreneurial adventure.

  But James had told me a story about getting a phone call. It had rung true for a reason: it contained a healthy kernel of truth. All the best lies did. Except it hadn’t been Dante who had called him. I just didn’t know who. If Kai ever woke up, maybe I could get a record of the calls and see who had called for the frame job.

  “I am trying to think of reasons to refrain from terminating your employment contract,” a tired, but still authoritative voice said behind me, “but I am admittedly finding them difficult to conjure.”

  I didn’t turn. Hell, my body barely reacted. It was funny how, once you resign yourself to the inevitable and just accept the roll of the dice—instead of fighting, fighting, fighting—how one felt liberated. The wind rustled through my hair and I held out my arms, almost believing that I could take flight.

  I heard Aldric try to switch off the generator. He cursed, flicking the switch back and forth. “Eden.”

  It took him a little longer than his top speed, but he was at my throat in a few quick steps. His cold, slender fingers wrapped around my throat. I still didn’t turn around or say anything, even as they tightened.

  “What have you done, Eden?”

  “If you don’t choke me, maybe I’ll tell you.”

  His fingers relaxed, but stayed put. “You lied to me.”

  “You didn’t know where to dig, you arrogant fuck.” A small bolt of lightning crashed over a wave breaking far out to sea. “That’s on you.”

  “Do not test me, Eden.” His fingers twitched, eager to be rid of me. Luckily, he was a businessman, so revenge and annoyance were tempered by financial prudence. Reapers—even problematic ones—didn’t grow on trees. And, if we were being frank, any fracture in our working relationship was his fault. His recruiting and motivational tactics weren’t exactly winning any awards.

  “Aren’t you curious what it is? Just a little?” Secrets intrigued everyone, including ancient vampires. That was just unavoidable.

  “My patience is razor thin.” His fangs clicked out—the first I’d ever heard that happened—and his head suddenly loomed over my shoulder, so I could see his hawkish green eyes in my peripheral vision.

  As scare tactics went, I’m sure it had made many people throughout history shit their pants and give in. But I was all out of fucks to give, so I simply raised my eyebrow and said, “It’s a goddess’s soul shard.”

  Aldric retreated from my personal space. I thanked myself for having a juicy enough carrot to dangle, then watched in horror as my brief victory disappeared. The generator soared overhead, landing in the sea with a sputtering crash.

  Turning around, I found Aldric wearing a maniacal grin. “There is an easy solution to all problems, Eden.”

  Shit.

  “That is my soul shard!” Lucille’s voice roared around us, like the sea itself was having a word. I glanced up at the trees just in time to see the bedraggled goddess dive from the top of a tree and land atop Aldric, who was clutching the soul shard. I could see that her forearms were covered in pink, scorching welts, not unlike what had happened when I had thrown Drake’s treasure at her face.

  The two tumbled in the sand. Lucille threw Aldric back, ripping the soul shard from his grasp. She looked briefly satisfied until he popped to his feet and hurled a handful of metallic-looking dust at her face. Up the beach about a hundred yards, I watched Fenrir limp from the foliage and collapse in a bloody heap. The moonlit glinted off a raw crimson patch on his back where the spike had simply been ripped off clean.

  This wasn’t quite what I expected, but maybe having no clear winner was better than what I expected.

  “Enough.” My calm voice made them both cock their heads in confusion at me. Neither looked inclined to listen, so I made my pitch in a hurry. “I have things you both desire.”

  “I have my soul back,” Lucille said.

  “But you don’t have this.” I held the sinewy spike up and then gestured to the ocean. “It’ll be gone forever.”

  “You wouldn’t.” Good. We were skipping the whole I don’t care about that bullshit that I had been hoping to avoid. Her gaze looked plaintive. “Please, don’t.”

  “She has nothing I desire,” Aldric said, brushing off his ruined suit like it would make some sort of difference. “She’s a defective toy.”

  “Gee, you know all the right things to say to a girl,” I replied. “But you’re wrong. I have something you desire very much. A stash of hundreds of souls. And I have what she desires. And I have something you both desire.”

  “Which is?” Aldric asked with great suspicion.

  “The name of your competitor.”

  “The one peddling alchemical drinks is dead,” Lucille said. “You speak lies, little Reaper.”

  “I meant the guy actually making them.” I shrugged and dangled the piece of Fenrir’s flesh over the ocean. “But if you guys would rather kill me—”

  “Only if you bring me the rival Reaper and the thieves,” Aldric said.

  “And a new trial for your repeated violations,” Lucille said.

  Tired as I was, I almost accepted their shitty terms. But I was done being pushed around. I held all the cards, and they needed what I had to offer. I’d bet my life on that. So I took a step closer to the ocean and said, “I don’t think you two understand how this works.”

  “I’ll kill your sister and the agent and the treasure hunter,” Lucille said.

  “No, you won’t.” I reared back like I was preparing to throw, and she visibly trembled. “Feel that, bitch? That’s true love.”

  She glowered, but didn’t respond. Aldric also looked furious, but had nothing to say. Confident that I now had the floor, all I needed to do was stick the land. I could’ve asked for the moon and pushed my luck. But instead, I just wanted to reset the game board.

  I turned to Lucille and said, “You will stop hunting Dante.” I held up my hand before she could protest. “In return, you will not harm my sister, and we will resume the terms of our old agreement. No weapons, no killing.”

  She looked about ready to shake her head, so I threw in the kicker. “And you get your own Reaper. The DSA could use one, I presume.”

  “You knew?” A vein bulged in Aldric’s lean neck. Anger cut across his sharp features.

  “And you,” I said, addressing him like a misbehaving child, which I enjoyed. “You will not harm my sister nor the people who stole thirteen million in gold bullion from your vault.”

  “Why would I harm your sister? She’s already dead.”

  “Because Sierra’s the rival Reaper making my performance look bad.” I relished his reaction to that. It was sweet to see his own plan—four years in the making—bite him in the ass. Maybe if Moreland hadn’t been a murderous asshole, this storm could’ve been avoided. Oh well. No going back.

  “These terms are not agreeable,” Aldric said, and took a step forward. Lucille took a step toward him.

  The goddess said, “I do not know where you acquired objects imbued with deicide-arcana, but a continued battle is in neither of our
interests.”

  “Nor is agreeing to these terms.”

  “I didn’t tell you the best part, jackass,” I said, striding up the dark beach until I was nose-to-nose with him. “I’ll keep delivering seven souls a week to you. Forever.”

  His emerald eyes lit up with surprise. “You would do that for me to spare these other humans?”

  “It’s a yes or no question.”

  Aldric extended a hand. “It is a deal.”

  I looked at his hand, then the goddess. She looked hesitant. I saw one of her hands in her back pocket, searching for the map as she eyed me with suspicion.

  I matched her gaze with a cool poker face.

  “You have taken the glyph-cipher, little Reaper.”

  “Look behind you.” She followed my finger to the smoking jungle, where a quarter of the nearby trees had been almost stripped of leaves. “Think you could’ve lost it, I don’t know, somewhere else?”

  She mulled my explanation, then sighed. It was hard to deny that the sizable skirmish could have knocked something loose. She extended her hand.

  “I do, however, believe you have something of mine that was taken by force.” I tapped my sneaker against the perfect sand to show that I was impatient. Her lips curled up in a sour expression, and she reached into her pocket to get the Reaper’s Switch.

  The duct-taped handle felt good in my hand. I flicked it out, just to make sure everything was intact.

  Lucille kept her hand out, clearly expecting me to grasp it. I looked at the goddess’s and warlord’s dirt-covered hands, but didn’t extend my own.

  “Forgive me if your promises aren’t exactly gold.” I grinned—the smug expression of someone who had won against the odds—and added, “But I think we have a solution that will keep everyone on their best behavior.”

  Thirty minutes later, Agnes Willsprout was stepping across the storm-torn beach in her expensive heels with a contract in tow.

  One hour—and one bloody thumb later—and I was walking along the empty road, looking at a copy of the magically-binding contract I’d just signed.