by Jaime Rush
Nothing like I feel, you bastard.
Lachlan lunged at him, but Russell stood, holding Jessie’s body in front of him.
“You don’t want to hurt her, because there might be a chance she’s still in here.”
Was there a chance?
Fury burned through Lachlan. “You’re going to hide behind her, you coward?”
Russell’s gaze slid beyond him to where Pope stood. He Became, dumping Jessie on the floor between the rows of seats. The dark wolf blended in with the black walls behind him. An occasional flicker of light reached them, flashing on the churning interior of the wolf. Several dogs emerged like a visible belch from the wolf’s mouth, and two turned toward Pope.
Lachlan removed the dirk at his waist and called, “Pope!” He tossed it to him, handle first. Pope caught it a second before the dogs hit him. Then he disappeared, reappearing behind Russell.
Russell spun, baring his teeth and snarling at Lachlan, who brought the sword down, scraping the wolf’s chest. No magic. No arcs of electricity. The wolf yelped in pain but didn’t back up. Lachlan could see the realization in its eyes: it knew he didn’t have the power.
But he had skills. He took a second to check on Pope, who was leading the dogs on a chase, disappearing and then reappearing. He pushed out his hand, and the dogs fell back as though hit with an invisible force, only to leap at him again.
Lachlan saw movement and swung around, sword slicing through the air. The wolf stumbled back. They fought in the small space behind the last row and the wall. Damn small spaces again. He thrust, the wolf advanced, then retreated.
Back and forth, until Lachlan’s back slammed into a wall. Hell. He was cornered. The wolf smiled and prepared for a final strike. Lachlan jumped to the top edge of the seats, then to the next row, running along the top of that one, and pounced on it.
He landed on the wolf’s broad back, bringing the sword round and cutting its throat. Russell should have died right then. Far from dead or severely wounded, it howled and twisted, sending Lachlan to the floor. He couldn’t win, he realized, not without magic.
Olaf! Now is not the time to hold a grudge.
No response. Bastard was ignoring him.
Russell tore back toward Jessie. Knowing he had to keep himself between them, Lachlan leaped to the top of the seats again, keeping her in his sights. The wolf had been solid enough when he landed on it. He knew he could hurt it. There was a slash in its throat, but the beast had no blood to spill, no skin to split. He was weaker, though. As Lachlan watched, the split mended.
Russell’s gaze shot behind Lachlan, where Pope smacked the dogs back with some unseen force. The wolf’s mouth moved, uttering the words, “Who the hell is that?”
“You’re not the only one from Surfacia.”
Russell’s eyes widened as he turned back to Lachlan, who was charging toward him. Russell sent him flying backward, slamming into Pope and scattering the dogs like bowling pins.
Pope whispered, “Get to Jessie. I’ll get us out of here.”
Russell, much closer to Jessie than they were, bounded toward her again. Pope clamped onto Lachlan’s arm, and with a whoosh they were next to Jessie. Pope put his other hand on her leg and they left again. The last thing Lachlan saw was Russell’s shocked face.
The three of them popped into his living room. Lachlan, on the floor beside Jessie, set his sword aside and pulled her onto his lap. “Jessie. Wake up, baby. Wake up.”
It hit him then that if she woke, she might be Calista.
She looked just like she had when she went to the Void. An enormous hole opened inside, threatening to swallow him. The thought of Jessie being in that horrid place she’d described, being devoured by it . . .
Pope put his hand on his shoulder. Out of sympathy, Lachlan realized.
He turned to the man. “You left Cheveyo behind. Why?”
“I care about him and his family deeply. They have been through a lot, but now they are happy, settled, and raising a son. Cheveyo would throw himself into your fight without a second thought. It’s his nature. If he was hurt, Petra would heal him and end up dying. If he was killed, she would kill me.”
Lachlan nodded. “They’ve earned their rest, as have you.”
Pope knelt down, waving a hand over Jessie. “She’s not in there. Something like this happened to Petra. She had healed too many mortal wounds, and Cheveyo warned her not to heal again for some time. Unfortunately, as you know, when you love someone, logic does not prevail. Nor self-preservation. When Cheveyo was shot, and she healed him, her soul left her body. He used their soul connection to go after her.”
Lachlan looked at Pope. “He obviously succeeded because she’s here.”
“Yes, but he almost got lost himself.”
“I can bring her back.”
Pope shook his head. “I do not sense the kind of psychic connection that bonds Petra and Cheveyo.”
Lachlan’s heart opened. “I love her. Isn’t that enough?” He did love her, he realized. He hadn’t just fallen for her, but loved her with everything that was in him.
“You must have a way to get to where she is,” Pope said. “Their bond allowed that connection.”
Lachlan lifted his head. “I have a way. I just have to convince him.” Something occurred to him. “The girl! There’s a girl at the concert who got some of Jessie’s bone marrow. Russell lured her into trusting him, figuring if she had Jessie’s DNA, it might be enough to use her body to bring Calista back. Russell might go after Hayley again. She doesn’t know she’s in danger, and we want to keep it that way if we can.”
He set Jessie on the couch and ran to the kitchen to find the initial article about the carnival. His gaze went to Jessie’s picture even as he pointed out Hayley. “This is her. She’s down in the pit.”
Pope vanished. The man wasted no time, that was for sure.
Lachlan rushed back to the couch, pulling Jessie into his arms. “Olaf!” Desperation and fear saturated his voice. “Please.”
He felt the Highlander’s energy. “Och, now you ask nice. What happened to the lass?”
“Russell sent her soul to the Void to bring back her mother’s soul.” He tore his gaze from her, looking at his reflection in the glass. He and Olaf both looked opaque, ghostly. “I need you to take me to the Void, like you did with her. I have to go in and bring her back.”
“Nae, I’m no’ going back there. Ye took me to task before, and now ye beg for my help. I’m done helping ye.”
“Yes, I’m begging.”
Olaf made a grunting sound. “Ye dinna even know if ye can go there. She holds the same as that place, the Darkness. Ye dinna have that. And the Light, it gets closer e’ery time I go. As angry as ye make me, I’m no’ ready to go yet.”
Lachlan looked at that grizzled face, weathered and old even at a young age. “This isn’t about you or me. It’s about her. She’s done nothing to make you angry. Can you let her be trapped in that place? Swallowed?”
The ghostly image looked down at Jessie. “It’s a terrible thing, aye. But so is the Light.”
“I thought the Light was supposed to be warm, welcoming, full of joy with loved ones coming for you.”
“No’ when ye’ve done the things I done.”
Lachlan remembered something he’d said earlier. “You let your men down.”
“Och, rub it in, why don’t ye?”
“I’m not rubbing it in. You said you let your men down, that it haunts you. You have a chance to make up every wrong you’ve ever committed. Redemption. You ache with the need for it, the hopelessness of ever getting it. I know that ache well, and I know that sometimes we’re given a rare chance to hold it in our hands again. This is your chance. Help me save her.”
“You’re killin’ me, cousin. Aye, it sounds honorable and brave, but it’s a lost cause. Ye willna get in, or ye’ll get trapped yourself.”
“Scots always embrace a lost cause. That’s what the Jacobite rebellion was. When you ra
n across the heather, sword in hand, you knew that, didn’t you? But you ran anyway, with your battle cry and your rage, knowing you were fighting for the right side. You lost that time.”
“Och, there ye go, rubbin’ it in again.”
“You get a do over.”
“A what?”
“You get to do it again, only this time you’re going to get it right. We’re going to win.”
Silence for a few seconds. Good. Lachlan put his hand over her heart, feeling the beat of it. “We can save her. Remember her laugh, the soft smile on her face, and her adventurous spirit.” He remembered, and it hurt and soothed at the same time. “She wasn’t afraid of anything.” Not even of him. “We can save her, Olaf. You can save her.”
“And what if I go to hell?”
“There’s no hell. Hell is here, on earth. It’s what we make of our lives. I’ve made my own hell. You probably made yours, too. A lot of us do. When you go to the Light, you leave this hell behind.” He didn’t know where this was coming from. Maybe out of desperation. But it felt right. “All you take are your triumphs and joys.” Olaf’s energy ebbed. “Don’t you slink off like a coward!”
“Now ye’re getting mean again.”
Ah-hah. Being called a coward poked an old wound. A deep one. “That’s what you did, isn’t it? When things started going bad, you ran. That’s how you let your men down.”
Olaf vanished, as wholly as Pope had. He’d pushed the Highlander too far.
Lachlan touched his forehead to Jessie’s. “I’m sorry, Jess. I blew it.”
This was like those moments after he’d come out of the blackout to find his mother dying on the floor, feeling so damned helpless. He wanted to throw something, break something. But he clutched Jessie to him, not wanting to let her go.
Where was she? He couldn’t abide it, thinking of her in that place she’d described with fear and disgust in her eyes. He couldn’t sit there and do nothing.
Her words echoed in his mind: You are a warrior who will go to any length to do what’s right. To protect those you care about.
How they’d filled him then, how they tore at him now. He laid her down, pulled up her shirt and stretched out beside her so that his head rested on her stomach. He traced the symbol there, then pressed his hand flat against it.
Everything he felt now, for her—all the loss, his guilt—swamped him. He’d never released any of it, not his mother’s death and his part in it, not his father’s death. Like Jessie with her tears, he’d held it in, thinking he was stronger for it. When he’d held her, and encouraged her to let loose, he’d only felt her strength. Losing Jessie ripped open the floodgate. He heaved in great breaths, pressing his face against her soft skin, feeling moisture slide down his temple.
Chapter 22
Jessie felt the Darkness seep into her, and then suck her soul through what felt like a long dark pipe. Suddenly she stood in a chamber in the Void.
No, not the Void!
She looked down at herself. Thank God not buried in the wall. The gray, pulsing folds shuddered. No, not the folds; the whole place shook in violent tremors. The chamber was so small now, there was barely room for her to spin around. She did turn, expecting her mother to be gone.
Calista was still in the wall, even less of her face visible. She didn’t say anything for several seconds. Because she was waiting to go. Then a hesitant smile. “Baby.”
Jessie narrowed her eyes. “Were you expecting to be zapped into my body?”
“Wh-What?”
“You knew, didn’t you? It wasn’t going to take a pint of my blood to bring you back. You needed all of my blood, my bones.” She spread her hands. “Everything.”
“Don’t be preposterous, darling. I would never come back at your expense.”
Jessie wanted to believe her, ached to believe her, but the heaviness in her heart and heat behind her eyes told her that she didn’t. She had her answer, but a new question as well: why hadn’t her mother disappeared?
Calista must be wondering the same thing, but her puzzlement morphed to panic when another tremor shook the place. “What’s happening?”
“Don’t you mean, what’s not happening?”
“This place is falling apart.”
Was the heartbeat louder? Faster? Yet another tremor shook, sending Jessie off balance.
Calista’s gaze shifted to someone behind her, and she spun to find Russell.
“Russellmylove,” Calista said, mashing all the words together into an endearment. “Why didn’t it work? I started coming in . . . it was supposed to work this time.”
So she knew. It hurt, God it hurt. Jessie waited for Russell’s answer.
His glare speared Jessie. “You are here. I had only just begun the soul transfer when your boyfriend popped in out of nowhere. And I do mean nowhere. And he brought a friend.”
Lachlan. But how had he found out so soon and gotten there so fast? Pope, the one who could teletransport. Had to be.
That hard look in Russell’s eyes softened as he neared Calista. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. As you can see, I’m halfway there. The boyfriend didn’t have magic this time, but the man with him is from where I’m from. He can teletransport, and in the blink of an eye he took Jessie’s body. But I will find it. If I can’t, I still have a backup plan.”
Jessie turned to her mother. “He’s talking about a teenage girl! Did you know that? Would you steal her life away, too? Or does it matter, as long as the two of you are together?”
Her mother’s face contorted. “Don’t throw that moral crap at me. What about my life? Does that not count? I’ve spent fifteen years in this purgatory. It’s my turn to live again!”
Maybe this hell, and her desperation, had driven Calista crazy. Jessie backed away, disgusted by both of them. “If you don’t care about taking your daughter’s body, or all those other women, or a teenage girl, then know that Hayley has muscular dystrophy. So you’ll have it, too.” She had one last chance to save Hayley.
“I don’t care. Look at me. Anything is better than this.”
Anything. Jessie turned to Russell. “Make it work. I don’t want you touching that girl.” Damn you, Lachlan. You had to go and be a hero, didn’t you? Everything would have been fine if you’d found your phone just a few minutes later.
The room shook, harder this time, and Calista let out a scream. “What’s going on? Why is the Void shaking?”
“I don’t know,” Russell said. “Maybe it’s overloaded with both you and Henry in here, almost swallowed up. There’s too much emotion, yours, his, hers.” He pointed to Jessie.
Calista’s voice pitched into a high screech. “It’s going to explode! We’ll all die here.”
Jessie slid in between the folds, escaping the chamber and the horrible people inside it.
“Can she get out?” she heard her mother ask.
“No.”
The organs breathed, pressing against her and muffling their conversation.
“. . . last time she had a rope. It’s what helped her to get out of here. But she doesn’t have it this time.”
Squeezing her eyes shut at her mother’s—her own mother’s—callousness and selfishness, she pushed on as soon as she could. What if she never found her dad? What if he was gone by the time she got there? Panicked thoughts flitted through her mind. She endured the press of flesh against her and the horrid sound of the breathing. So much scarier navigating without the rope.
Better get used to it. You’re never getting out of here.
Olaf wouldn’t come. She’d seen his fear of the place, felt it herself. She was not worth coming in for as far as he was concerned. Lachlan had messed everything up, and now both he and Hayley were in danger again. Unless the Void destroyed itself first.
She felt her father’s energy, as she had before. She pushed through, faster, and finally stepped into the chamber.
“Daddy!” She ran to him, touching the tip of his fingers. All she could see of him now was the ar
ea that included his eyes, nose, and mouth. “Oh, God.”
“Allybean, I told you not to come back.” He looked behind her. “Where’s the rope?”
She opened her mouth to tell him everything. Words stopped in her throat, and she just shook her head.
She felt an odd tingling sensation above her right hip. Blindly, she felt the ridges of the cross, blazing as though it had been touched by a low voltage wire. She pressed her hand over it. “You gave me this symbol to protect me. And it did. But it was never about the symbol, was it?”
“No. It was easier for a child to believe in a symbol than in some scary thing inside her. But it was all you. Ally, tell me what’s going on.”
The place trembled again. “Russell thinks the Void is overloaded with our emotions. My mother’s afraid it’ll explode.”
“Your . . . you saw her, didn’t you? I didn’t want you to know she was here.”
“She was trying to trade her soul for mine.” Her voice broke on those words.
“That can’t be.” He saw that she was serious. “No. I can’t believe she’d do that.”
Jessie tried to take a step closer to him. Her legs wouldn’t move. Panic clawed at her. The floor had clamped onto her feet! She pulled, hardly able to breathe.
“Oh, Allybean, I wish I could help.”
Another violent shake made her stumble and fall to the floor. The gray mass grabbed onto her knees, her hands. She fought, crying, screaming, but it had her. Exhausted, she rested her head near the tips of his toes. “It will be over soon, Daddy. Do you remember when we used to cook together?”
He didn’t answer for a second, probably confused as to why she was bringing that up now. Then he obviously got it. “Yes, I do. What was your favorite meal?”
“Fried chicken. We made such a mess, but it was so good.” She smiled. “What was yours?”
Connected to the floor, she felt every shudder even more. She kept her focus on her memories, though, and her father’s words. That would get her through until it was over.
