Soul Reckoning

by Nancy E. Polin

  The smell of mildew and the faint acrid aroma of smoke burned her nostrils. Just beneath, permeating the room and everything within, was the dusty aroma of decay.

  “I have a few preparations to make, but I promise it won’t be long. I’ll make sure you’re comfortable while you wait though.” Ady kept his hand at the small of her back. In Rowan’s mind’s eye, she could picture snapping every digit resting against her. “You’ll need to be subdued naturally. I apologize for that, but I’m sure if you put yourself in my place, you’d understand.”

  Rowan swallowed her fear and poked at her temper to build it into a flare. There wasn’t any more time. Her body was almost her own and the element of surprise was always a powerful attack. Ruth had thought him weak, and the thin, skeletal figure beside her seemed to prove the assumption. She only hoped it would be enough.

  Wheeling around, she put all her weight into a roundhouse punch, keeping her thumb on the outside to reduce the chances of hurting herself. His head jerked back and blood erupted from his nose. In a frenzy, Rowan lashed out again and caught him across the ear. Shock glazed his face, but when she went for his nose again, he blocked the assault. She managed to catch him with her other hand, raking her nails down his cheek. A growl rumbled from her throat, purified rage circling around and pressing in. Homicidal thoughts erupted from her primal brain. She wanted to hurt him badly, wanted to even kill him if the possibility arose. She kicked him in the shin hard enough to make her toes ache inside her sneaker and immediately swung out with another punch. Snarling, he bared his teeth and made a grab for her arms, but Rowan took advantage of the sudden proximity and kneed him in the groin. The man’s already pale face lost any hint of color and he crumpled.

  Giddiness with a hysterical edge soared through her. The fight part was over. It was time for flight. She wasn’t sure where, but her instincts blared that it was time to go. She whirled to run, but he lurched forward and whipped out a hand to grab her ankle. His fingers bit in like teeth and he yanked her off her feet. Pitching forward, she reached out to break the fall, the brunt of her right hand taking her weight. Pain shot up from wrist to her shoulder, hot and bright as small bones snapped. She cried out, kicking at him as he flipped her onto her back, climbing up over her like a huge gangly spider. Blood dripped from his nose and filled the scratches under his eye, but he bared his teeth in a humorless grin.

  When he reared back, she expected a blow. Rowan tried to scramble away, faltering with a whimper when her broken wrist refused to support her. Instead of hitting her, he billowed his cheeks and blew a fine white powder into her face.

  She pulled in a quick breath in panic, coughing as the dust burned her sinuses and the inside of her throat. Jerking her head to the side, she gasped for fresh air, but a warm haze began to spread over her brain, numbing her from the inside out. Her tense muscles liquefied and she blinked up at him, anger ebbing into a fine mist.

  “That, little one, is enough of that.” Climbing to his feet, he shook his head and perched his hands at his hips. He stared down at her, something perversely like disappointment smearing his bloodied features. Ady looked at her as if she were a child sneaking a cookie before dinner, not a woman fighting for her life. With a deep sigh, he reached down to grab her under the arms.

  Rowan rolled her bleary gaze around the little house, dull, but curious, as he dragged her down the short hall, past one doorway, but into another at the end. She was aware of the pain in her wrist, but it seemed disconnected and far away.

  He gently laid her out in the center of a small room, arms and legs splayed out like a discarded doll’s, heavy and useless. There was only one window centered on the north wall, hidden from the outside by blackout drapes. A large bookcase filled with all manner of jars and books stood opposite the door. Rowan tilted her head back to view it upside down, trying to focus on reading the spines, giving up when everything kept blurring.

  Sleep would be good. She’d feel so much better after a nap. Her lids sagged, but a moment later, flipped them back open. The spark of fear and anger buried deep kept trying to scratch to the surface, and she wanted to concentrate on it.

  But she was so tired.

  Rowan wondered what Luke was doing and tried to clear away the murky lines from his image. Did he even realize how handsome he was? She could stare at him all day if she could get away with it. He had the cutest dimples when he smiled.

  Memory cut a jagged hole through her and she couldn’t stifle the sob.

  She’d killed him.

  No, she couldn’t have. One part of her mind clung to that small sliver of hope, while the other embraced the certainty of his death.

  Rowan wanted to scream, but little to no strength allowed only a weak cry. Hot tears slid from the corners of her eyes and ran down to dribble onto the hard floor.

  “You’ve left me no choice but to begin a little early. But that’s okay. I can take care of a few things afterward.” There was no rancor in his voice, just acceptance.

  Ady slid in and out of her vision, his movements accompanied by the clinking of glass and the pop of broken seals. She had no idea what he was doing and no longer had the presence of mind to endeavor to figure it out.

  The dark room came alive with the flicker of candles. Shadows and flames came together to form frenetic pictures over the walls and ceiling. Smoke stung her eyes and the pungent aroma from some kind of incense or herb burned from around her.

  His fingers touched her face, drawing and swirling shapes with a warm liquid. A metallic smell bit into the smoke around her and she wanted to ask him what he was doing. Couldn’t do much but roll her head away from him.

  Grabbing her face with one big hand, he completed the last stroke. Pausing, he stared down at her and his eyes widened. A startled and grateful smile twisted his thin lips. He pulled up her sweatshirt, drawing on her lower belly. “I’m sorry.”

  “Get off…” She tried to raise her voice to demand that he get the hell away from her, but the words stuck, gummy and thick in her throat. Rowan willed her fists to clench and lash out, but the best she could do was twitch her fingers. Something in his smile had her terror racketing up even higher, but there was no fight left now. She let her lids drop, wondering what death would bring. He’d said she wouldn’t feel anything. Her thoughts and body felt detached from one another and she slowly realized he hadn’t lied. She wouldn’t feel pain when she died. She suspected the pain and suffering might come afterward in this man’s warped world.

  Words rumbled above her in an unfamiliar tongue. They blended together into a low hiss as they came faster, chanting.

  Trying again, she struggled to part eyelids that must have weighed fifty pounds each. His face was wild with contortions as if small snakes struggled to burst free from his flesh. Those intense green eyes had rolled back in his skull, but the words continued, white noise unrecognizable to her.

  It was like looking through a funhouse mirror, all distortion, all unreality. Smoke hung in the air above her, twisting and pulsing in a rhythm synonymous with the man’s chanting. Her mind slid away, but she pulled it back with tenuous will, knowing in her gut that she wouldn’t be able to fight much longer.

  Acceptance began to weave its way inside. She’d lost. It was almost over.

  When the man stumbled back with a cry, she frowned and calmly observed through tunneled vision. Bewilderment and curiosity settled over her, but it felt distant, as if she were watching everything from the nosebleed section of a large amphitheater.

  Smoke thickened in the room, sliding and shifting around the man. He danced in bone jerks and flapping arms. His mouth moved, gaping and snarling. High-pitched screams loosed from his throat. She’d never heard such a sound from a male before.

  No, not dancing. Fighting. There was someone else, another figure hiding in the smoke. They grappled in a peculiar ballet, Marcus Ady seeking escape, the other pursuing. She couldn’t tell who her savior was. There was no face, just the impression of body and motio
n.

  Rowan pulled a deep breath in, coughing out the polluted air, only to suck it in again. Dark splashes blocked her narrowed vision when her lungs grew too heavy. Exhaustion succeeded in falling over her, a thick, wet blanket at once stifling and oddly comforting. It pressed down, compressing her chest, her mind, her body.

  At the sound of smashing glass, she let go.

  Chapter Thirty

  It wafted in the air, just the barest scent of smoke caught within the breeze.

  “You need to hurry.” Luke leaned forward from the backseat, eyes fixed through the front window as dawn broke around them. The tension in his body locked his muscles, while his head and neck throbbed in pain. He ignored the discomfort even as his heart rammed into his ribs in horror and agitation.

  “If we bottom out, we won’t be going anywhere.” David snapped.

  Ruth sat straight in the passenger’s seat, saying nothing other than offered directions. Whichever spirit shared the woman’s body was either subdued or biding its time. Luke would have bet on the latter.

  “Turn here.”

  Dave glanced over at his mother, nodding.

  The glow before them was unmistakable. Luke felt like an anvil had been dropped in his gut. Grabbing for the door handle, he tumbled out before the car had come to a complete stop. Somewhere on the other side of his panic, he heard David’s demand to wait, but ignored it.

  A man burst through the second-floor window in a spray of glass, landing several feet from the chicken coop in a tangle of smoke tendrils and frenzied movement. Two indistinct shadows twisted around him as inhuman screaming pulsed through the night air, quelling natural sounds from the swamp.

  Without sparing the writhing figure in the yard more than a glance, Luke bounded up the stairs, pushing through the front door in a low crouch. Falling back a few steps, he pulled his borrowed jacket up to press against his nose and stumbled into the dense smoke. Narrowing his eyes, he swept the front rooms. Finding no one, he headed down the hallway, choking from lack of oxygen.

  The first room held nothing but a cot and small bureau.

  He moved on to the second, flinching at the fire engulfing the heavy drapes in the room. A mild breeze from the broken window fanned the inferno, whipping it into a frenzy and propelling it upward through the ceiling. A small, prone figure lay in the middle of some kind of intricately drawn symbol on the floor. One outstretched arm rested less than a foot from a tipped candle and the trail of flames.

  His lungs burning and kicking, he coughed violently even as he leaned down to swoop her up. Blinking back the dots in his line of sight, Luke tossed Rowan over his shoulder and bulled his way out.

  Sweet air chased out the soot and smoke as he made his way back down the stairs, carrying her far enough to keep safe from the spreading fire. A violent tremor bubbled from within and Luke coughed until his eyes watered.

  Lying the woman down in the yard, a second spasm of coughing bent him forward a second time, hacking out ash and rancid air. When he could see again, he checked her pulse and leaned down to detect her breath.

  “Jesus, Jesus, Jesus…” He was barely aware of the mantra slipping between his lips. Gently, he pushed tangled hair back from the damp skin of her face. He noted the bruising and swelling of her wrist absently and discarded it as superficial. But her face. No, no. Please. Dead white under soot and painted blood, except for a mouth tinged with blue. Her eyes were thin slits, unseeing. Cold sweat beaded on his upper lip, profound terror stealing in, blackened and ancient.

  “No, no, no, baby. Don’t do this to me!” He covered her mouth with his to push oxygen into her lungs, before beginning CPR. His mind went blank, concentrating on the task, not allowing himself to think beyond. The rhythm was second nature to him and he slipped into his zone.

  He became conscious of someone resting a gentle hand on his shoulder, but he shook it off, determined to complete his task. He had to save her. He couldn’t fail. No, not again.

  “Come on, Rowan. Open those eyes. Come back and look at me.” The words leaked from between clenched teeth, sweat dripping from his chin. “Fucking open them. I’m not kidding.”

  Thirty compression, two breaths, repeat, repeat…

  “Luke.” David’s low voice reached down to him, ripping into his heart with its sympathy.

  “Don’t touch me.” He didn’t recognize his own growl or the despair within. Get into the zone. Compressions, breathe for her, keep it going… “He didn’t kill her. We made it in time.”

  Somewhere in the distance, he thought he heard the wail of a sirens. He was certain of it a second later.

  “Hang in there, baby. Just a little bit longer. You know something, Rowan O’Herley? I’m in love with you, so don’t you dare fucking die on me.”

  The bokor’s screams abruptly cut away somewhere beyond them, but Luke was barely conscious of it and he continued CPR. Everything constricted around him and sweat ran in his eyes. He impatiently wiped them against his shoulder and continued his rhythm.

  “Come on back. You’re tough. I know you can do it.”

  Her sudden scalding breath, followed by another and a long fit of agonized coughing, had a hysterical laugh breaking through his own raw throat. He stroked her hair, leaned in to brush a kiss to her lips. “There you go, there you go…”

  “Luke,” Rowan whispered, staring up at him, eyes glazed and unfocused.

  “Hey gorgeous.” Overwhelmed and shaking, he traced his fingers down her filthy face.

  “Thank God!” Ruth dropped beside them, wriggling out of her sweater and laying it over the young woman. Her face was pinched, dark eyes blazing in worry. “David called this in. All of it.”

  Rowan’s body jolted and she tried to sit up, terror widening her eyes within her soot-covered face. “Where … is he?” A harsh new coughing fit brought her back down and Luke cradled her against him. Her eyes closed and he pressed his lips to the top of her head.

  “Dead.” Ruth met Luke’s eyes, her voice shaking. “The spirit guiding me joined the other one as soon as you left the car.”

  Reading into her meaning, he took a breath and glanced behind him.

  Several yards away, the man’s body lay within tufts of thick weeds. The tall grass obscured most of the corpse, but he was fairly certain the man’s face and throat had been torn into bloody ribbons.

  “Jimmy guided us here. But that boy, Timothy … he got here first and ripped that man apart from the inside out.” She sucked in a quivering breath. “So much rage.”

  “Timothy. The quiet one. The one I didn’t know was at the tavern.”

  Ruth squeezed her eyes shut for a moment and nodded. “That boy was trapped inside one of Marcus Ady’s talismans. When Jimmy destroyed those vessels, Timothy was released and attached himself to Jimmy. I think he was forced to watch as Ady mentally broke the man.”

  “So, when he saw the same thing happening to Rowan, by the same hand…”

  “Possibly, but I think he may have reacted more to Jimmy’s distress. And his own memories of death and subsequent imprisonment.”

  “Jesus.” Luke crinkled his brow. “Not to be unappreciative or anything, but why the hell did they wait until now to kill the guy?”

  Ruth sighed, fatigue adding a few years to a face normally unlined. “I think the spell being cast tonight was as dangerous to Ady as it was to Rowan. If he’d been allowed to finish, well, you know what the result would have been. But there may have been a small window of vulnerability. That’s what Timothy, and then, Jimmy, found.”

  Beyond them, firefighters spread out to gain control of the blaze. Luke expected the twisted little house would soon be charred and skeletal. He hoped the swamp would take it into its rancid depths. Let the gators and snakes have it.

  David fell into a crouch next to them, relief evident when his gaze found Rowan listless but at least breathing. The EMTs were just behind him, lugging equipment and rolling a gurney. “Jesus, I thought she was gone. I’m glad I was wrong, ma
n.”

  Luke buried his nose in Rowan’s hair, despite the stink of smoke, and listened to her raspy but steady breathing. “So am I.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Rowan sat up in bed, curled forward and hugging her knees.

  She’d spent the last two days in the hospital and now waited, tension freezing her muscles, for formal discharge.

  Her memories of that night were a blur of movement, darkness, and flames. When she worked at pulling out something solid, it resulted in a major banger of a headache. It didn’t keep her from trying though.

  A cast to her elbow encased her wrist, she’d been treated for smoke inhalation, and her system flushed of whatever substance Ady had used on her. Because some of it was unfamiliar to the medical world, they kept her an extra day to be certain there’d be no side effects. Now, she’d been deemed ready to go home.

  But then there was still the other thing. An unexpected and troubling twist on an already unbelievable situation.

  She rocked, wincing in pain from her wrist and a thousand additional sore spots but didn’t stop. Her mind twirled, dipped, and frequently lost focus. Trying to rein it back, she gazed out the window, the view of the blue sky and puffy clouds partially blocked by another wing of the hospital.

  A volunteer armed with a wheelchair, tight, curled gray hair, and an endearing smile shoved into the room. “Looks like your discharge papers are all in order and you’re ready to go. Do you have someone picking you up?”

  Rowan nodded, numb. “He’s pulling the car around.”

  Luke had borrowed Andy’s sedan and was probably already waiting for her at the front entrance at that very moment. Facing him scared the crap out of her.

  “Okay then. Hop in.”

  Rowan settled into the wheelchair while the volunteer adjusted the foot rests. Her mind drifted again, worry deep seated and holding.

  It shouldn’t have to be like this. She’d survived her experience, Marcus Ady was dead, and she no longer had to live with his darkness hanging over her. She had a successful business, friends, a city she’d grown to enjoy, and a man she loved.