Immortal Bound (Apsara Chronicles Book 1)

by T. G. Ayer

  She showered and changed into the sari-suit, ironed and laid out for her at the foot of her bed, her thoughts drifting to a memory that teased her.

  Nivaan, sitting on the bed beside her, telling her that everything will be okay. Telling her she was one bad-ass MF, and that she should never forget who she was. Telling her too that they had time to figure things out, that he wanted to see what the future held for them.

  Vee blinked away the memory, her emotions somewhere between confused and angry. As she reached for the long coat, her phone pinged. She tapped the message and the screen filled with the face of a chubby, completely adorable drooling baby.

  Here is some drool and a pair of chubby cheeks courtesy of my niece Sona. I’ll pop by later to visit, but I’m babysitting at the moment. Sisters are a PITA especially when they think they deserve date DAY (as if date night isn’t enough!) ::eyeroll:: TTYL

  Niece?

  Sister?

  Vee slapped her hand over her forehead. Talk about misunderstanding. Had it been his niece and sister she’d heard over the phone? Vee’s cheeks flamed as she thought about how she’d brushed the poor guy off.

  Ugh. What an idiot.

  She could almost heard Radhima’s voice in her head telling her she had to make it up to him, and to stop behaving like an immature child.

  Ma was so right.

  Vee smiled. That text message was hilarious too. He sounded like a damned teenager.

  The low rumble of conversation from downstairs rose another level and Vee took a deep breath and focused on getting ready.

  The sari coat was long, reaching to her knees, hand-embroidered with a gold-and-red paisley border. Beneath it was a skirt made with such lengths of fabric that it stood out almost like a crinoline.

  She slipped on low black heels, which would never be seen beneath the bulk of the skirt, and put on a pair of hooped earring. Ma had bought her those last year, a gift from her last trip to India. Vee blinked back tears as she ran her fingers over the stones, as multitude of colors that eerily matched those she’d seen in the iridescent wings she suddenly possessed.

  Thankfully, she didn’t see them at the moment, or she’d never have been able to apply her makeup—however minimal—without getting herself crosseyed. She took a deep breath and headed downstairs.

  Ma’s favorite tunes played on the music system, a few Gayathri Mantras, a couple of Bhangra hits, some Norah Jones, an eclectic blend of music reminiscent of a woman’s many years of tastes and experience.

  Vee tried hard not to cry as she wove her way through the people who’d come to attend the service and see her grandmother off.

  She hid in the kitchen until Syama and Devi—both clad in saris—walked in, her mother’s face lined with tension and grief, and something else Vee couldn’t identify.

  And then she remembered.

  “Where’s Dad?” Vee asked softly.

  “Asleep. In our . . . his room. Nivaan has him on a drip for fluids. He’ll be awhile before he’s back to normal.” Devi hesitated and Vee had a feeling the coming weeks of transition was going to be chock full of strange.

  After her mother had left the family home, Mac had moved out of their bedroom and taken the room across the hall from Vee’s. He’d said it was because he wanted to be closer to her in case she needed him, but now she understood that he may well have known more about his wife’s feelings than he’d let on.

  The coming days would reveal a lot, with the old husband having to figure out where he fit into the non-relationship between his wife and her new husband. Things were going to get strange.

  Vee nodded, reluctant to continue the conversation as it was so clearly painful for her mother. Mac and Akil came to stand in the doorway, his white garb so appropriate now, and the two women shifted to let them in. The sirin gave her a sad smile and stood beside the sink, clearly unsure what to say.

  Mac came straight to Vee and gathered her into a hug. “So sorry, kiddo.”

  Vee curled her arms around his neck. “Sorry too,” she whispered knowing how much he’d loved Ma.

  Vee moved away and wiped the corners of her eyes with the tips of her fingers. “We don’t need raccoon eyes, okay. You know how much Ma hated raccoon eyes.” That elicited chuckles from everyone and then they all fell silent as they stared at her, “You guys are making me feel weird.”

  She knew they were recalling the sight of those amazing wings.

  Mac cleared his throat, about to say something when his movements slowed and he froze in place. A glanced at her mother, Syama and Akil confirmed that they too were frozen. This smacked of a certain informant of Vee’s.

  She turned on her heel and she headed down the hall to the front door. A peek into the living room and then the dining room, confirmed that every single person within were frozen in time.

  Globs of juice and cold drinks were taking flight, and a few light pastries and cakes had begun to float off their owner’s plates.

  Vee shook her head and peering through the glass confirmed her visitor.

  Karan.

  She opened the door to see Karan standing on the porch, dressed in a dark suit, patiently waiting for her.

  “Oh, hello,” she said, feeling all the more strange as she opened the door and he walking inside. The man was an informant and he was now inside her home.

  “Namaste,” he said, palms together as he bowed before her then straightened with a smile, “My deepest sympathies for your pain.”

  She noticed he didn’t mention anything about loss.

  “Thank you,” she said, hesitating to ask him what he was doing here.

  He cleared his throat and for the shortest instant he seemed to glow with a golden light. “I’m here to provide an update. The cult you uncovered was part of a countrywide network, the main purpose of which was to ‘resurrect’ Narasimha. The problem with that course of action was of course that the Lord himself is in voluntary seclusion due to penance.”

  Vee sighed and leaned against the balustrade post behind her. As fatigued as she was, and though the temptation to sit on the bottom stair was great, Vee didn’t give in, didn’t want to appear weak in front of this man who she was yet to figure out.

  She met his gaze. “Did they think their sacrifices would give Lord Narasimha some kind of power that would help bring him back?”

  “Something like that,” he nodded, “but the members of the cult were human. They were there because they wanted to become mahabidala.”

  “I didn’t know that was possible.”

  “It isn’t.”

  “Ah, I see.” Menon had been using those poor people.

  “Menon and his partner duped these humans in order to obtain their hearts and to extort the money to fund their efforts. They were hunting for mahabidala to follow their cause but the species is so whittled down that those remaining are very careful of falling on the wrong side of the gods.”

  Vee nodded, “We couldn’t trace the phone,” she said the words almost to herself.

  Karan answered anyway, “The phone belonged to a history major student who’d been sacrificed a few months earlier. No trace of his disappearance was recorded because he’d dropped out, and had officially removed himself from the university—or at least that is how it was made to look. Menon’s assistant had been using the phone and the watch, a stupid thing to do as he found out later when you tracked the phone to the professor’s home. I have sent the details to your email so you may let your people know. Menon had IT people on his payroll as well, innocent people who had no idea how they factored into his scheme. Your investigation will find that the tech people were ignorant of the details and were not involved in the cult itself. Menon was smart that way.”

  Vee watched Karan’s face, “How is it that you know so much? The underground grapevine is that informative?” She wasn’t sure if she’d ever be able to figure the man out. There was just something . . . odd . . . about him.

  He shrugged as he studied the living room filled wi
th motionless people. “I have my methods,” he shifted his head and met her eyes, “Let’s just say that you have people out there who have your best interests at heart. People who know your purpose and who want to support you in achieving it.” Vee was about to ask him a question when his face darkened and she closed her mouth. “Unfortunately, there are also those who wish to see you fail, those who will do anything to ensure you do not achieve the grace that is intended for you. There are those who have already put things in motion in order to harm you.”

  The silence in the hall was so loud Vee’s head felt like it was going to implode. “The assassin?” she asked softly.

  He nodded.

  She didn’t bother to ask how he knew about it.

  “We have the suspect and we are busy with interrogations. We will update as soon as we know more, but in the meantime it would be best for you to remain on your guard and take extra care.”

  “Who is ‘we’?” Vee asked, her suspicion escalating.

  He gave a short bow, ignoring her question. “You know how to reach me if you need something.” He tugged his lapels and turned to the door. “Oh, and I have a new case that you may be interested in. I will have more information for you tomorrow. In the meantime I wish you a good rest, and strength through this difficult time.”

  Vee didn’t respond. Instead she just stared at him, her mind filled with questions that she had little energy to ask.

  He smiled, his face again glimmering with the strange glow.

  Then he lifted his hand, clicked his fingers and disappeared. Vee blinked and was back in the kitchen, with Mac saying, “Do you want to say a few words at the service?”

  Vee flinched, startled by his closeness, and let out a soft laugh. “Er . . . no way. I am not a public speaker. You do it. Or ask Mom.”

  She looked over her shoulder and met her mother’s eyes. Tears glinted in them but Devi blinked them away, straightened her shoulders and walked out of the kitchen. “I’ll speak if Vee does.”

  Vee rolled her eyes and followed her mother. For a moment she felt like she had little choice in the matter, but the truth was she had all the choice, all the power to make the right decisions for herself.

  The future was ahead and she planned to take it one step at a time.

  Wings and all.

  THE END

  The APSARA CHRONICLES will continue with GODS ASCENDENT

  Part I

  Skin Deep - A SkinWalker Novel #1

  Skin Deep Ch1

  There was a razor-fine line between protector and vigilante, and right now I knew I was skating it blind.

  Funny thing was, I didn’t much care.

  Tangled nerves sparked liquid fire within my veins. Muscles tightened, knees locked in a solid crouch. The fevered rush was a familiar beast. Moisture filmed my palms, heat simmered in the whorls of my ears. On occasion, even my heart missed a beat or two. Slick palms and a dubious pulse were understandable. Hot ears? Not so much. Grandma Ivy had a theory—hot ears meant somewhere, someone spoke your name.

  Not in a good way either.

  If Gran was right—something I did not doubt—and my ears were some sort of psychic thought-detector; then I'd bet my twisted Panther DNA it meant some mean-assed Wraith was groaning for my head on a bloody spike. A fair number of those Shades lost in the Ether would have me to thank for their current address. But, as yet, none have dropped by to voice their dissatisfaction.

  The rooftop view of Chicago's night sky was glorious. Faint strains of a string quartet wafted from the restaurant below. My mark had not yet arrived. I supported the steel crossbow with strong, steady hands. While its weight was solid, it was also a comfort. So strange when its purpose was to end a life. I crouched on the edge of the rooftop, a mere shadow, invisible in my dark turtleneck and black leather pants. The high-necked sweater was camouflage, hiding the stark truth beneath.

  From hairline to lower spine, the skin of my back was imprinted with the tapered, irregular pattern of a Panther's pelt. Very few Walkers have such a Mark. A blessing and a curse, it meant I was special. It also meant growing up in the Colony pretending I didn't hear the snide whispers and envious comments.

  Muscles bunched, tensed. I steadied the weapon, balancing it on my knee. A sudden wind gusted around me, tugging at my hair, pulling slim strands free from the thick braid, which hung to my waist. Loosened strands whipped around and stung my cheeks with tiny slaps. The one thing I got from my mother that I could have with me all the time—thick, midnight hair that sometimes caught my father's eye and cast a grayness over his face. Times when the distance between us felt like miles.

  The glittering night was subdued. Silent condemnation? Even the chatter of traffic was a whisper on the air. A powerful engine throbbed below. An old Bentley pulled up to the curb pouring its passengers onto the sidewalk. Two young women, rail thin to the point of skeletal, were draped over their distinguished host, doe-eyed and adoring. I restrained the bitter urge to vomit.

  Silver hair, arrogant lines. My target had arrived.

  Game on.

  The girls tittered and the night air drew the sound to me, crisp and clear. If I'd cocked my ear, I'd have heard the words he uttered to them. But I wasn't interested in anything he had to say.

  Enjoy it while you can, you piece of scum. Tonight I will send your sorry hide back to the Darkness where you belong.

  Larson Keyes: Politician, adulterer, wife-beater. King of vices. But none of it mattered - Senator Keyes was already dead. What was contained within the flesh-and-bone shell of the man was NOT a man. Inside the polished exterior, something insidious and gut-wrenchingly evil now lived, had taken slow and deliberate control. Neither the senator, nor his family, would ever know he'd been killed by a Wraith. A possessor of bodies, devourer of souls.

  I forced my jaws to unclench—my teeth hurt.

  Sliding the tiny vial into the chamber in the crossbow, I readied the weapon, taking care to keep my fingers clear of the poison-tipped arrow. The diminutive arrow was designed to sink into the creatures flesh, decreasing the possibility of it being removed. The longer the poison remained, the quicker the death.

  I aimed and fired a single silent shot.

  Below me, the Wraith clutched his chest. His breath clattered in his throat, Adam's apple bouncing in tempo. His eyes bulged, face caught in a horrible grimace, pulled taut in a gross parody of shock and agony. Screams echoed around him as the large man crumpled to the unforgiving concrete.

  The sight of Keyes' now-lifeless body spurred both horrified girls to run in terror. They did not see the dark wispy shadows, which spewed from his mouth. Did not see those shadows writhe and curl and twist away from the body, grey smoky fingers reaching for the tiny rips in the Veil, seeking to escape to the questionable safety of the Dark-World. They should be grateful to be blessed with such blindness. I certainly would have been.

  The body of the Host lay discarded. A dried husk of the man smiling and preening mere minutes before. Desiccated skin lay sunken on bones, papery thin and fluttering in the breeze.

  I rose, stretched my cramped limbs. I had time to contemplate the blood on my hands. Impossible to avoid the body count. After all, I was a killer. A Wraith-Hunter. But even though it's the Wraith I track and sever from this World, it's the body of the Host I have to terminate. The same Host who dies soon after the Wraith takes up residence, smothered by an evil blackness which sucks the life from him until what's left is a living shell without a soul. The Host was a lifeless puppet, and it didn't matter. My heart still shattered a little, ached a little each time I lined my target up within the cross hairs of my scope. Every time I watched a Host die by my hand.

  And, after the deed, I was still a killer.

  I left the rooftop, stuffing the small crossbow into my backpack, and turned my back on the sirens. As they sang in the distance, I shimmied down the fire escape super-fast. I dared not tempting Fate. It would be difficult to save anyone else from the black clutches of another Wrait
h if I were stuck in a prison cell. As I jogged away, my body zinged with pride. Then I came crashing down from my temporary high.

  I was probably the only one proud of me. Would my father care? Only enough to admonish me, and warn me not to embarrass his precious reputation. Would my mother care? Who knew? I hadn't seen or heard from her in twelve years. Nobody in my family had heard from her since the day she'd walked out on us without so much as a fare thee well.

  Heading back to the Rehab Center, I sent a prayer of gratitude to the Lady Ailuros. My job as a trainee drug counselor gave me access to a patient information network, which acted as a grapevine of the abused. One of the ways to sniff out a Wraith. Along with countless other addicts, Senator Keyes daughter Katie had sought secret refuge from his beatings in the euphoria of drugs. Her young, innocent face, so similar to mine. A different world and we could have been friends—giggled over boys and neoned our hair together. Shared stories of our first kisses.

  But reality had a way of keeping that alternate world very well cut off from me. So I had concentrated on helping her.

  Wraiths left a residue on their victims. A substance in their breath, which clings to those they came into close contact with. And those they tortured and abused. A substance only I could see. Katie had worn the pale peach tendrils around her in a misty shroud. An almost coral sign akin to a neon arrow.

  Wraith marks the spot.

  And I wasn’t about to complain. That very residue allowed me to track them, hunt them.

  And kill them.

  Skin Deep Ch2

  The door stood open and my supervisor walked back and forth, already arranging the chairs in a cozy circle. Clancy grinned as I entered. “Hello, Miss Tardy,” she teased. I stuck my tongue out at her and stashed my backpack behind the desk.