by T. G. Ayer
After materialising, I projected again, just outside the door. The hall was empty, allowing us to leave the closet without being seen.
My head spun and the sticky warmth of blood trickle down my lip. I turned my head away from Drake, grabbed a towel from a nearby cart and swiped viciously at the blood. I was getting so tired of this.
I tossed the bloody towel into a trashcan as we reached the emergency desk and stayed right behind Drake as her carried Gina to the nurses. The bleak fluorescent light highlighted Gina’s bloodless skin and gaunt frame. She looked dead, which drew attention from all the staff within a few meters.
They descended on him in a wave of white uniforms and concerned expressions. A gurney sped towards them, doctors and nurses huddled, and alarms went off. A nurse whispered questions to Drake, then paid him no further attention. He wasn’t family. Another nurse yelled at the desk clerk to call the police.
We left them to the mayhem, preferring not to be caught up with questions we’d rather not answer.
I tugged at Drake’s jacket. “We need to tell Santiani.”
Drake’s expression said he’d be happier going home right now, but he knew how important it was to brief the family as soon as possible. We rode the elevator up to Santiani’s floor, and I entered the darkened room leaving Drake outside.
Santiani looked smaller, more gaunt and far too much like Gina did when we’d handed her over to the doctors. He was wasting away in front of our eyes. He turned listlessly toward me as I shut the door, watching me, eyes wary. My stomach tightened as I sat beside him on the bed. I didn’t touch him though, not sure if I could handle giving him such bad news and still give him comfort.
“What happened? Did you save her?” he whispered, his voice ragged in his throat.
I nodded, hiding the sadness welling up inside of me. “Yes. We saved her but the process of removing the mind control took its toll on her body.”
He nodded. “I’m just glad you were able to get rid of it.” He swallowed then took a wheezing breath. “Is she going to be okay?”
“She’s weak. She’ll need time to recover before she can talk about what happened, but I suspect she won’t recall much. If anything at all.”
Tears welled up in his eyes and he ignored them as he grabbed my wrist. “And Gia? Did you find Gia?”
“We did.” I shook my head. “I’m so sorry.”
“Was it Gina?” More tears flooded his eyes and rolled down the side of his face as he thought about one of his daughters killing the other.
I shrugged. “I can’t be sure. It may have been. Or there may have been someone else involved who hasn't been around to be apprehended.” I was giving him an out, allowing him to be more comfortable with Gina. It mattered only because he had so little time with her left.
I couldn't bring myself to reveal anything about the condition in which Gia had been found. Nor could I tell him how I believed he’d contracted Prions Disease. I took the coward’s way out and left that revelation to Captain Murdoch and the doctors.
Who knew? They’d probably do the same as I had and allow the man to live his last days out without the burden of such knowledge.
Santiani had enough to deal with now, especially with Gina’s rehabilitation.
Not to mention his own.
Chapter 38
I sat on the lakeshore, staring at the dark water, trying to absorb as much energy and power as I could to replace what I’d lost during the drama of the last week. So much had happened, that I couldn’t believe I was still standing.
I’d barely had contact with Saleem although I longed to see him. He’d sent a few vague but meaningful messages, glossing over the real impact for Omega after the whole experimenting-on-Celeste-in-an-Omega-owned-facility thing. From what Kai had told me, both Logan and Saleem were being fully debriefed - translate interrogated - as to their involvement.
I had to wonder how the djinn queen was doing too. Was she waiting to hear our plan had worked? Did she really believe Saleem would listen to me? I certainly hoped she was right.
Kai had more or less healed, the poison passing through her system faster because of her panther genetics. She’d sounded like she’d gotten over Illyria’s betrayal, saying she deserved it for trusting a wraith in the first place. Kai was too stubborn for one conversation to get through to her so I planned to have another go.
Besides, she had her newly discovered, previously-dead serial-killer scientist uncle to deal with. Last I heard he was admitted into a Sentinel facility for full check, under a round the clock guard. His mother Ivy had insisted on staying with him, probably more because she was finding it hard to believe he was still alive, and trying to process the reality of having a murderer for a son.
Tara, my fae friend had officially disappeared, leaving her shop cold and empty. I’d have to find somewhere else to procure our weapons. If we ever needed it. But worse, I was going to miss my friend.
My worst fears had been realised too, with Captain Murdoch under investigation. Detective Fulbright had been keeping an eye on the captain's sign outs and comparing them with cases I’d covered. Discovering a distinct pattern, he’d called the FBI in to investigate. Fulbright had then rung me to gloat that, because of me, a prominent well-respected police officer was about to lose his job.
Not sure what he’d hoped to get out of that, but what he hadn't known was that Chloe and the Captain had dropped by for a visit and given us the lowdown on what was going to happen even before it played out. Thankfully, the Captain had friends in higher places than Fulbright could ever dream of, so I was fairly comfortable for what the future may hold for my surrogate family.
Natasha was calmer now that she’d re-warded her land, gloating over the fact that both her magical taser and her potion had done its job. She was also pretty happy to have a certain gargoyle helping to clean out the destruction in the area surrounding the pond. I was wondering how she’d explain the weather abnormalities to her neighbors, but she didn’t say.
The gargoyle was worse now, far more sombre than ever. I’d told him to suck it up and go home. He had to sort things out soon, both for his sake and mine because I needed his head in the game. He’d agreed.
I didn't quiz him on anything gargoyle-witch-romance related. That would have been asking for trouble.
Carlo Santiani was worse than ever. His health had failed significantly over the last day or so and I’d found it heartbreaking that he hadn’t been strong enough yet to see Gina. The doctor’s prognosis for him was no more than a few more weeks. I’d grown fond of him over the course of the case. According to Drake I’d liked the man more because he’d reimbursed everything and paid me triple for job. Drake was joking, of course. He knew I wasn’t mercenary. We just needed a new roof, and new plumbing.
I’d figured out why my projections had taken me to hot tubs and fireplaces. Yarrsh had fed parts of Gia to her father at various places in the house. Forensics had discovered ashes in the fireplace in the study which had tested positive for Gia’s DNA. We later discovered that some of Gia’s bones were buried beneath the hot-tub’s wooden stairs. The demon had definitely gotten creative.
Gina Santiani was recovering slowly. They’d pumped her with fluids, shaved her hair, dosed her with antibiotics, vitamins, electrolytes and more unpronounceable things. She’d looked a little bite better when I’d last checked in on her and I was glad. It would be a while yet before she came to and explained what had happened, but as I’d said to her father, I suspected she’d recall nothing of how Yarrsh had subdued her, or of anything afterwards. The mind was know to protect the person and hopefully that would be the case for Gina. Otherwise I could find a mind-melder to help her out.
Of her sister Gia, we could only guess as to how the demon had killed her. The mother’s death was also suspect. I finally realised what had been bothering me about her case file. A photograph of the mother’s white shoes, bagged for evidence, revealing bloodied soles.
Someone had placed De
borah Santiani’s shoes neatly beside the desk after she’d slit her wrists. Impossible for her to have done so without leaving a blood trail. I’d passed that information on to Captain Murdoch but there was nothing we could do about it now. The Captain had warned me against bringing my knowledge of the case to Sentinel’s attention. He wanted me to stay far away from such organisations.
Little did he know the Supreme High Council, ruling council of all paranormals, had approached me this morning.
A mysterious text invitation to their new headquarters. I was still trying to figure out if I wanted anything to do with it. But ignoring a summons by the Supreme High Council was like flipping off a queen or a president.
Just not done.
As to my silent companion, the only thing I could say had been out of the ordinary, was the vertigo I’d felt at Natasha’s. I hadn’t told her of course. I’d prefer to wait and see if it was just lack of a balanced diet, or really a result of a poltergeist possession. And I’d vowed not to tell a soul about it until I knew where I stood. Too many people in my life that had too much going on to bother them with demonic possessions of all things.
I rested my chin on my knees staring at the rippling surface of the water. The moon was high, a silver disc soaring across a blue-black sky, its reflection an oblong, misshapen blotch on the lake’s surface.
I sighed and looked up at the sky again, but this time, dizziness took hold of me. My head spun and when I opened my eyes I let out a gasp of shock. I was in the ether, staring at the vast nothingness of the astral plane.
I hadn’t intended to come here. Didn’t even have a feedback thread to follow.
Before I could wonder what was happening, a voice whispered in my ear. “Where the unicorns dance.”
Samuel’s voice in my ear, whispering words from when he’d first trained me for astral travel.
Our secret code for I’m-in-deep-shit-please-help.
We’d agreed to meet where the unicorns danced and I knew what he was telling me to do. Without a second’s hesitation, I shifted direction and projected to a spot outside of Reykjavik, to see the Northern Lights.
The Aurora Borealis.
As far as astral travel went, the Aurora Borealis was a confluence of energy so filled with power that it was easy to hide a secret within its dancing skeins of light and not have it traced back to you.
Or rather, easy for the likes of us.
Samuel had contact me once already, the attempt to ask for help failing miserably. That he’d used the unicorn code could mean one of two things; there was no other way that he could contact me now, or the information he was sending me was too sensitive.
My feet touched solid ground on a snow-capped mountain top outside of Reykjavik and I stared up at the iridescent emerald sky.
But the view wasn't what I’d come for. My purpose was to read what Samuel had written within the skeins of dancing energy.
I gasped as I read the words, my heart twisting inside my chest, shoving all the air out of my lungs.
“Ari is alive.”
TO BE CONTINUED
The DarkWorld: The SoulTracker Series
The DarkWorld: SoulTracker Series
The SoulTracker novels is a companion series set in the same world as the DarkWorld: SkinWalker books - Skin Deep & Lost Soul. Mel Morgan’s story can be read as standalone to the SkinWalker books. Both Mel & Saleem, as well as a few other characters, also appear in the SkinWalker books so if you wish to read Kailin & Logan’s story first clink the links and enjoy.
DarkWorld: SkinWalker: Skin Deep ~ Lost Soul ~ Last Chance ~ Blood Promise ~ Scorched Fury ~ Demon Hunter
DarkWorld Origins Novellas: Pyros
DarkWorld: SkinWalker: Blood Magic ~ Demon Kin
In the DarkWorld the things that go bump in the night are most likely true. And the problem is they are probably not sticking to bumping around in the night. They are everywhere. Your work colleagues, your teachers, even your friends. They’ve been living that way for a long time. And you haven’t noticed because they don’t want you to.
You’re much better off not asking any questions.
The SoulTracker Series
For more of Mel, Saleem Drake and the team read book 2 in the SoulTracker Series- Demon Kin
Want to sample a few chapters, scroll down and enjoy.
The SoulTracker Series
Blood Magic
Demon Kin - 2017
If you want to be kept in the loop about this series please subscribe to my Newsletter : Tee’s Newsletter
Also, if you want more to read along the lines of the SoulTracker Series then the SkinWalker Series is perfect.
Scroll down for Sample chapters of Skin Deep
The SkinWalker Series
Skin Deep
Lost Soul
Last Chance
Blood Promise
Scorched Fury
Demon Hunter
SkinWalker Box Set - Books 1-3
The SkinWalker Series
To Nessi
Love you to bits, darling daughter of my heart!
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 sc
um. 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.
