by Ching, G. P.
Malini’s face hardened. “What do you want, Lucifer?”
“I want you to know that it is just a matter of time before I find you. I can sense your soul and track your location.” He laughed wickedly. “When it pleases me, I will come for you, and I promise my vengeance will not be quick.”
The Healer attempted to hide her terror, but Lucifer could see the fear ripple across her skin. He could smell the musk of it in the air.
He waggled his fingers in a patronizing wave. “See you soon, Healer.” With a snap, she dissolved again, sucked out of the room as quickly as she’d come.
“When do we attack?” Damien mused. “Before or after the sixth curse?”
“Neither. My message to the Healer was meant to intimidate and keep her out of our way. She’ll be too busy trying to protect her fellow Soulkeepers to interfere with our gathering.”
“What if you’re wrong? Soulkeepers are notorious for acting on the greater good,” Damien said.
“Do not question me. Without their angel, the Soulkeepers are vulnerable. If they are stupid enough to come for us, we will be ready. I will crush them, and then nothing will stand between me and the world.”
Auriel cheered. “Yes! What will the sixth temptation be? How will you win human hearts back to our side?”
“To ensure our success in the future, we must look to the past, to the strategy of our enemy. In the time of Moses, the Great Oppressor sent the angel of death into Egypt to kill the firstborn son of any who did not have His mark. The Angel of Death passed over the Israelites who painted their doors with lamb’s blood. The Great Oppressor won the freedom of his people through selective death.
“We will win this challenge in the same way. The winner is judged based on the number of living human hearts aligned with me at the time the last gift is given. To win, all we have to do is make less human hearts. Either they align with us, or they die.”
“We kill the humans aligned with good,” Levi repeated.
“And then, all who are left will be ours,” Auriel said.
“Exactly.” Lucifer folded his hands behind his back and stared out the window to the chaos below. “My final curse will be death, and my vessel, every Watcher on Earth. They will spread my deadly curse across the world, and only those who still bear my seal will survive. Now, go. Prepare. We can leave nothing to chance.”
* * * * *
There was one good thing about the chaos going on outside the doors of the skyscraper on North Wabash Avenue: the lobby was empty. No one opened the door for her, and there was no one behind the front desk. With a powerful kick that would have been impossible for a mere human, she busted the door to the security office open, finding a large bald man cowering in a corner.
“What are you doing in here?” Bonnie asked.
“Hiding from the demons,” the man said breathily as if the answer was all too obvious.
Bonnie noticed the scar on the back of his right hand. He’d had the seal but burned it off. Good for him; she’d let him live. She moved to the wall cabinet and selected the same key to the penthouse Ghost had obtained for them when they’d rescued Abigail. Palming it, she turned on her heel.
“Wait. Where are you going?” the man asked.
“To kill the demons,” Bonnie said by way of explanation.
“You’re one of them, aren’t you? From the poster. Harrington’s most wanted.”
Bonnie gave a little half smile. “I’m a Soulkeeper. If you value anything good in this life, you won’t tell anyone you saw me.”
He shook his head vigorously. “I won’t, but that key will only get you upstairs, it won’t get you inside.”
“What?”
“That key is for the elevator to the penthouse, but this—” He snagged an unlabeled gold key from a hook. “This will get you in the front door. We always keep one for every unit, in case of emergency.”
“Excellent.” Bonnie looked at the man’s name tag. “Thank you, Ian.”
He nodded. “You’re welcome.”
“I apologize in advance, but I need to borrow something else from you, Ian.”
“Anything.”
Folding in on herself, Bonnie transformed into the man, security uniform and all. “Anything,” she repeated, then said it again an octave lower. “Anything.”
The man crossed himself.
“Later.” Bonnie rushed for the open elevator, slipping the key into the slot. The doors closed. The elevator ascended. Music piped into the mirrored compartment, a wordless version of Sting’s Desert Rose. The song was almost over when the doors slid open to the penthouse foyer she remembered from before. The same plastic potted plant greeted her. There was a door to her right and her left.
On light feet, she padded toward the one on her left, the one she’d gone through the first time she was here. If she remembered correctly, it led to the kitchen and the family room. She pressed her ear against the wood.
“Now go. Prepare. We can leave nothing to chance,” she heard Lucifer say. She jogged backward at the sound of approaching footsteps. She needed to hide. The elevator was already gone. Only one other place to go. She slid the key from Ian into the opposite door, slipping inside and pulling it closed behind her. Four sets of footsteps filtered under the door, along with the murmur of excited voices. She held her breath until the sound of the elevator ushered the voices away. Silence.
Heart pounding, Bonnie turned into the empty corridor. She remembered searching for Abigail in these rooms. The penthouse was shaped like a doughnut with the elevator and foyer the hole in the middle. The hallway was dark now, without the benefit of sunlight from the wall of glass that made up the building’s exterior. Still, a trickle of illumination from what city lights survived across the Chicago skyline was enough for her to make her way.
She tried the first door, listening for any signs that the four sets of footsteps she’d heard leaving weren’t the only ones in the penthouse. A bedroom. She swept through and found it empty along with the adjoining bathroom. She begged Fate and then God that Cord’s prison was one she could see and not one like Abigail’s. Back in the hall, she checked the next room and the next. Her hands began to sweat. She had to find him. She had to make this right.
Her fingers gripped the next knob, willing Cord to be inside. The iron tarried willfully against her palm. Locked.
“Cord,” she whispered. She pressed her ear against the door. There was no answer but a soft hiss. Whether it was her angel or a pit of vipers she did not know, but she backed across the hall and jumped a few times to build her momentum. With a deep breath, she bound against the opposite wall, finding purchase and propelling her body across the corridor as her foot shot out toward the door. As before, she couldn’t break the lock, but she could break the wood. The frame cracked, the lock and mechanism still engaged, and the door swung open on its hinges.
Bonnie landed at the threshold. The room was not filled with pit vipers, but her brain could not digest what she saw there. The window in this room had been painted over. The walls were dark, the space a black hole. The only thing she could see was a shiny film on the floor, a silvery slick that glowed dimly against the black. A piece of the slick rippled and the hiss came again. She inhaled sharply, and the scent of citrus and ocean filled her nostrils.
An icy chill scampered like an army of ants from Bonnie’s toes to the base of her skull. Foolishly, she slipped inside the room. She patted the wall for the light switch. When she flipped it, a dome light flickered and then gave off an intense, brassy glow.
Bonnie pressed a hand over her lips to stifle a scream.
Cord. He had to be dead. Wings limp, his torso lay facedown on the floor in a pool of silver blood. One arm dangled from a cuff chained to the wall. The other was free but shredded, as though it had been torn forcibly, flesh and all, from its cuff. The bend and twist of his legs and spine was contrary to the proper alignment of bones.
Thick with grief, Bonnie ran to Cord’s side, flipped him over, a
nd wiped the hair back from his lifeless eyes. “Cord. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Her tears fell like rain on his neck and chest, carving trails through the silver blood. The light from above wavered iridescent against the silver, creating a sickly river of death.
What was this place? There was a table of torturous implements next to his head—gougers, knives, and scrapers—all covered in silver death. She closed her eyes against images of the unspeakable acts he must have suffered.
She couldn’t stand seeing him like this. No way would she leave Cord’s body to these monsters. Gently resting his head in her lap, she reached for the chain on the wall and used her dagger to pry open the restraint. What would she do with his body? She could not, would not, leave him, but even in her current form, carrying Cord would not be easy.
“What are you doing in here?” Auriel asked. She’d formed in the shadowed corner of the room, her sapphire blue eyes piercing the darkness like a predatory animal.
For a moment, Bonnie forgot she was wearing the image of the security guard, but as she gently repositioned Cord so she could stand, she noticed Ian’s thick, calloused fingers on the angel’s skin. She cleared her throat.
“Question is, what are you doing? This man is injured. He needs help,” she said in Ian’s voice, two octaves lower than her own. She was covered in silver blood, a fact that was surely masking her Soulkeeper smell.
“Stay where you are,” Auriel demanded, positioning herself in front of the door. “I can’t let you tell anyone about this.” She snatched Bonnie’s right hand, no doubt checking for a seal. Auriel bared her teeth when she saw the unblemished skin.
With the snap of overstretched elastic, Bonnie retracted her hand and drew one of her daggers. She readied herself for a fight.
“Stupid human. Don’t you see that alignment with us is the future? We are your only chance of survival.” She laughed, glancing at Bonnie’s smooth right hand. “But, since you made your choice, and I have made myself hungry with my efforts tonight…” Her fangs flashed in the fluorescent light.
Bonnie shook Ian’s image from her body like a dog shakes water from its coat. “Bring it on, Auriel.”
“Soulkeeper,” Auriel hissed. Her skin morphed black as she shed her illusion.
With a banshee scream, Bonnie hurled herself at Auriel, wanting nothing more than to do to the Watcher exactly what she’d done to Cord.
Chapter 20
A Light in the Darkness
Malini held baby Hope against her chest, stroking her hair and rubbing circles over her tiny spine. Against her russet skin, Hope’s complexion looked almost gray, and her lips had taken on a blue tint. The infant’s breath sounded pinched and ragged. Concentrating her Healing power, Malini placed her left hand on the back of Hope’s neck and flooded her with her gift, feeling the burn until the baby’s cheeks pinked.
She’d done this over and over again. The problem was, as soon as she pulled her hand away, Hope’s condition would gradually worsen again. In a few hours, she’d be back to the brink of death. The healing was temporary and draining, a condition that couldn’t come at a worse time for the Healer. Unfortunately, Malini needed to be fresh and energized, now more than ever.
Lucifer had called her soul and made it clear that he could find her and the other Soulkeepers at any time. To think, Cord was their protection all along. His presence had kept them safe, and in return, they’d made him feel guilty enough to risk his life for information on the sixth curse.
She was alone tonight. The Soulkeepers were all out trying their best to protect the humans in the chaos that ensued after Lucifer’s exposure. Even now Malini could hear screams from the street as the Watchers fed indiscriminately. There was no illusion of safety anymore. Lucifer’s seal offered no protection now that it didn’t serve his purposes.
For Hope’s protection, Malini had taken cover near the holy water font. If the Watchers came for her, she planned to climb into the water and wait for the sun to rise or the other Soulkeepers to return. But Hope’s worsening condition meant she could not delay council. With Hope in her arms, she leaned against the side of the font and cleared her head, her soul falling backward into the In Between.
“Finally,” Fatima said, her immortal eyes wet with tears. “We’ve been waiting for you.” Fate grabbed Malini’s elbow and pulled her toward the front of her villa. “She’s sick.”
Noting her empty arms, Malini didn’t need to ask who Fatima was talking about. As expected, Hope’s guide, the missing piece of her soul, lay on a hospital bed. Mara and Henry stood vigil on either side of her. The girl’s form had faded to a dark transparency, ghostlike and unconscious.
“She’s fading,” Mara said. “I cannot see her future.”
Henry frowned. “Her physical body is dying. I’ve tried to hold this piece of her soul here, but I cannot. It’s as if she is being washed from existence.”
Fatima held up the tapestry she was weaving. “Her thread dulls in my creation. It was purple to begin with. Now it is barely blue.”
Malini shook her head, weeping openly. “I came here for answers. Are you telling me you have none?”
The three immortals stared back at her, despondent and pleading.
“Only God has the answer,” Mara said. Her black eyes fixated on Malini. “You’ve come to the wrong place. Don’t you understand that her existence was a gift from the creator, the third gift? Only He knows her purpose.”
“Then why isn’t he telling us what to do?” Malini asked. “How do we save her?”
Hope’s eyes flipped open. She blinked up at the ceiling and swallowed in a way that seemed painful. “The question is valid,” she said.
Malini reached for her hand while the immortals pressed in around her, waiting for her to speak.
With a wave of Hope’s hand, blossoms fell from thin air and piled on the girl’s stomach. She ran her fingers through the flower petals and then answered with trembling lips. “You will save me by releasing your power into the world.”
Malini shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
Hope smiled. “All humans are made from God. They come from God. Each is a gift, just like me. But like me, some are disconnected from the piece of themselves that is eternal. A human soul is an ancient, powerful thing. Cut a person off from their soul, and you make them a shell whose only purpose is their current unremarkable existence. My tiny body is dying. Did I have a purpose, Malini?”
Malini wiped tears from her eyes. “Of course you did. We all love you, Hope.”
Hope nodded. “Every person has a purpose. Everyone. Not just the people who understand it. A person connected to their soul will choose God, because they are made of God.”
“Made of God? I don’t understand. How will I reconnect you with your body?”
“You must destroy what you are.”
Malini froze. Jaw clenched, she hugged her stomach, the truth plowing through her like a runaway freight train.
Hope closed her eyes. “There can only be one Healer.” The girl drifted off again, her breathing falling into an even rhythm.
“Did she just say what I think she said?” Malini’s voice cracked and tears spilled over her lower lids. Her eyes darted to Mara, Henry, and Fatima. Each shook their heads.
“Do I have to die for Hope to live? Do I have to die for her to save the world?”
Henry’s brow knit. “If that is the only way, we have a problem. You can’t die, Malini. Only Hope, the new Healer, can release the soul of the old Healer. Remember how you released Panctu?”
Wiping under her eyes, Malini hunched her shoulders, defeated by the truth in Henry’s words.
“If you do need to die for Hope to save the world, only she can make that happen. And that would require her to have full access to her power on Earth. I’m sure you can appreciate the paradox.”
* * * * *
Bonnie’s dagger narrowly missed Auriel’s heart. The Watcher broke apart and re-formed a foot to the left, talons swiping
at her throat in retaliation. Bonnie avoided the strike by somersaulting backward into a handstand and using her boot to kick Auriel’s hand aside. She halted at the apex of the movement, then jackknifed, planting both feet on Auriel’s chest. The Watcher flew backward, breaking apart before she hit the far wall.
Hastily righting herself, Bonnie pivoted in fighting stance, waiting for her enemy to form again. Rip. Claws tore across her back and caught in her ponytail. She screamed as her neck snapped back and the poison leached into her skin. Twisting and turning, she attempted to yank her hair away while avoiding Auriel’s flapping leather wings and razor-sharp assault. In the end, there was only one thing she could do. Her blade sliced through her hair, leaving Auriel with a handful of ponytail. At the same time, she tossed the blade at the Watcher’s chest.
Auriel dodged right, not fast enough. The blade sliced through the black flesh above her collarbone and lodged in her wing. With a howl of pain, she broke apart. The knife clanked to the floor. Bonnie didn’t bother to pick it up. She withdrew another from the sheath on her opposite arm and readied herself for another attack. Retaliation came quickly. Auriel formed within the circle of Bonnie’s arms, fangs sinking into her jaw.
Bonnie shrieked, stabbing Auriel again and again in the side. She fell to the floor, but Auriel came with her. Teeth, claws, and daggers dug in. The two rolled until their bodies hit the wall. Bonnie was trapped, pressed into the floor by Auriel’s weight and wings, held in place by searing fangs. Blood flooded her mouth. Her body stiffened, seizing from the effects of the poison.
All at once, Auriel’s teeth retracted, an unholy scream piercing the room. She reared up, her hands reaching, grabbing behind her back. Through dusky vision, Bonnie saw her salvation. Cord stood in the corner of the room where she’d lost her first blade. That dagger now protruded from the center of Auriel’s back. The Watcher tipped forward, face slapping the floor as she writhed in torment.
“Come,” Cord said in a raspy voice. He crossed to Bonnie, placing a hand on her cheek. A faint glow later and the bleeding had stopped, although she was far from healed. “I’m too weak to do much more.”
