Not Just Voodoo

by Rebecca Hamilton

  “I can win this,” I grated through clenched jaw.

  “No, you can’t. He can harvest your souls in a matter of seconds. The only reason you’re still here is because he knows you’re a bargaining chip against me. It’s not you he wants, it’s me.”

  I let out a long sigh and relayed Harley’s message to Henry.

  “I could just kill you now and then make him give me what I want anyway.”

  Harley answered without my prompting. “I’d die first.”

  “Well, what do you want then? Only in exchange for what I need.”

  “Let her go. You can see she is injured. She’s not a threat.”

  I took offence at that, but didn’t comment. If we got out of it, this one was racking up a list.

  “I’ll let her go. But you have to prove to me you’re capable of giving me what I want.”

  They were talking through me and over me like I didn’t exist.

  Harley answered again but this time I remained silent. “I’m not a puppet.”

  Henry sidled toward me and I backed away, to my shame. Carefully placing one boot behind the other, I attempted to stay out of his illuminated reach.

  “How can you see me? I could have sworn you couldn’t see anything.”

  “Don’t tell him. Lie,” Harley prompted.

  “It’s not about seeing. It’s about feeling,” I supplied. Hoping he would buy it. Harley better have created a plan. I didn’t know how long I could keep this dance up.

  “He is a born reaper,” Harley continued, “but he doesn’t know how to harvest a soul properly. He keeps messing it up and he needs a trained reaper to show him how to do it right. He will use you to make me do that. I’m going to convince him to let you go. When I do, you must leave. Get out of here and head the opposite direction of the water until you reach the church. Find Bishop. He can handle things from there.”

  I almost told him I didn’t want to leave him, but I held it in, not sure if voicing it would screw up his plan.

  “He says he wants you to let me go and then he will help you.”

  Harley cut in. “You need to play pitiful better. Help me out here.”

  I resisted the urge to roll my eyes and continued. “Just let me go. I’m no threat to you. I don’t even know where we are.”

  “I don’t care about any of that.”

  I’d run out of road. He pinned me against a rough brick wall. “I want you here as entertainment, when he and I are through with our business.”

  “I promise, I won’t be much entertainment.” I threw in a quiver of my lip.

  “You don’t fool me, baby. You may look vulnerable, but your little maneuver back there means I don’t believe a syllable that falls from those pretty pink lips.”

  My gut churned.

  “Tell him I won’t help him if he doesn’t let you go. He can torture us both, but I’ll never tell him what he wants.”

  I relayed the message and Henry stepped back, headed toward Harley, I assumed. I squinted, willing my mind to focus through the darkness in an attempt to see anything at all that could get us out of there.

  Harley’s voice caused me to jump. “The door is 120 degrees from your position to your right.”

  I swallowed, unsure if he was suggesting I make a run for it. A mental image of me hitting a brick wall at a run wasn’t very convincing.

  Harley pushed into the image with another message for Henry. “He says to touch him. He will show you what you want, but only once I’m out the door.”

  I could see Henry’s shimmering outline in the dark as he spoke from across the room. “Go. Get out before I change my mind.”

  He didn’t need to tell me twice. I pushed away from the brick and tried to gauge the door angle. I made it almost in a straight shot, tripping against a box near the frame. Something metallic and clunky hit the floor. I knelt to feel and held the object in my hands. Harley’s memory rushed back to me. A gun. The gun.

  A groan of pain that didn’t sound like the one Henry had emitted earlier struck me. I had to act now. I could see the outline of Henry—his arms were extended, his hands must be wrapped around Harley’s head. I couldn’t let Henry destroy my partner. I cupped the weapon in my palm to feel the mechanics. My finger fit into the groove over a curved protrusion and I pointed the end toward Henry. The image in my mind came clear and quick. I squeezed the metal with my finger and the resounding noise popped my eardrum, causing a faint hum. I heard a thud and then nothing save the ringing in my ears.

  I willed my mind to focus and could see Henry on the ground now. “Is he dead?” I called out to Harley.

  “Not dead. Aim and shoot again.”

  His voice sounded strained, as if coming from far away. I focused on the illumination of Henry once more, steadied myself with a wider stance this time, and fired. The illumination I could see jerked, and then the room went completely dark.

  “He’s dead now. Let’s go.”

  Harley didn’t answer. I stared toward the spot where Henry was before. “Harley. Come on, not a good time to play games.”

  I dropped the gun to the floor and rushed toward where the light had been. I slipped before I could make it and went crashing down in a pool of warm liquid. No, not liquid. Blood. I pushed up and scrambled across the floor until I reached a body. Leather, it was Harleys’ coat. I felt around until I found the wound, slicing thick across the side of his neck.

  Panic set in. “No, no, no.”

  I held my hands there, wrapping them to stem the blood flow.

  Harley’s voice came back, faint, barely audible in my mind. “Don’t worry about it. Get my phone from my pocket. Call Bishop. He’s likely already on the hunt.”

  I sorted through the fabric searching for the pocket opening. Once I found the phone I pressed the button and spoke. “Call Bishop.”

  It rang once and a gruff voice cut through the line. “Where are you?”

  “I’m not sure, Sir. We’re a few blocks up from the water. In a warehouse, second floor.”

  “That isn’t much to go on.”

  “Tell him Fourth.”

  “Harley says Fourth Street.”

  There was a click and then nothing. A man of few words, apparently.

  I tossed the phone away and clutched Harley’s wound in both hands. “Don’t die on me. I refuse to be the detective who dies, gets blinded, and murders her partner all on the same day.”

  Nothing but silence answered me this time.

  “Oh, no.”

  “S’ok. Come here,” he said. I switched my hands around so I could lean into what I assumed was his face. The soft rasp of his breath fanned across my lips and I sighed against them. At least he was still breathing.

  “Closer,” he whispered.

  I leaned in as far as I dare go. He pressed up and brushed his lips across mine in barely a touch. Shock rocketed through me, only to be replaced almost immediately by the heavy pounding of boots on stairs . It was either help, or I was about to join Harley. A farewell kiss seemed oddly appropriate.

  Hands grabbed my arms away, pulling me back from Harley. This time I fought. “Calm down, child,” Bishop’s voice, unmistakable and utterly commanding, broke through the fury building in my chest.

  I relaxed into the person holding me until the soft caress of feathers brushed my hand.

  “What the hell was that?”

  I turned to find a figure before me, shining, bright, so much brighter than Henry’s weak illumination. It was as if this man were drawn on the canvas of the universe in the color of lightning. His wings stretched tall and wide behind him. “Be calm,” he said.

  Calm wasn’t something I could do at the moment. “Are you an angel?”

  “Yes. You can call me Cardinal.”

  I’d heard the name before. The leader of a special church unit. The only member of the church to share rank with Bishop. Cardinal had become the light to Bishop’s darkness.

  “Come help me, brother,” Bishop said.

&nb
sp; Cardinal skirted around me, the air swirling between us from both the size of him and his wings together.

  “Please don’t tell me he’s dead,” I whispered, hugging myself.

  “He won’t die, child. Reapers aren’t so easy to kill.”

  I recalled something like that from the manual. “Wait, if he’s not...”

  A gasp cut through the room and I froze. If Harley wasn’t dead, then that meant Henry couldn’t be, either.

  “Don’t worry about him, child,” Bishop said.

  I swallowed the retort I might have made if he were of a lower rank and much less scary. Being unable to see him helped somewhat. But his voice, and the very shadows cloaked around him, didn’t diminish, even though I couldn’t see him.

  I stood immobile. Waiting. I was useless in saving myself, and apparently useless at saving others too. Nothing I could do but wait and be returned to the church. I’d probably be mopping floors and organizing Bibles for the rest of my life.

  Cardinal wrapped one big arm around my shoulders and led me away. “Is he really going to be alright?”

  “Yes, and you will also be alright.” I needed confirmation.

  “How do you know that? Can angels see the future?”

  “Not often, I expect, but I know an excellent healer who can help you. All is not lost.”

  I was thankful he didn’t add the word child to the end of that sentence.

  4

  The doctor held my arm cradled in his when I woke. Once Cardinal took me to the clinic and the doctors got ahold of me, they knocked me out within minutes.

  I blinked my eyes, waiting for the stifling darkness, but it didn’t come. Light, everything was a little too bright, a little too sharp. I blinked against it some more, trying to make my eyes focus. They wouldn’t.

  “Well, Father, I don’t know if this is better.”

  “What do you see?” His voice was patient and kind.

  “Everything is washed in bright light. Like staring into the sun.”

  He bent his head and whispered a few words. I tried to catch them, but my Aramaic still wasn’t up to snuff.

  “Close your eyes and reach out your other hand.”

  I did as I he bade, and fingers interlaced with mine. Large hands, callused across the top of the palm.

  “Now open them,” Harley said in my mind. This time I could see everything in a medium twilight. And I mean everything. The souls around the Father holding my arm lit up like an old painting of a saint.

  “Ok, what’s going on?” I asked.

  Harley released my hand and the world washed to bright again. I understood as he grasped my fingers once more. “How am I seeing through your eyes?”

  “We have a connection. You held my life force in your hands as I lay in a pool of my own blood. We’re connected. You will be able to see when I’m with you.”

  I groaned and lay my head back on the scratchy pillow. “I guess that means I’m losing my single room in the rectory.”

  The End

  About Monica

  Monica Corwin is an outspoken writer attempting to make romance accessible to everyone, no matter their preferences. As a Northern Ohioan, Monica enjoys snow drifts, three seasons of weather, and a dislike of Michigan football. When not writing, Monica spends time with her daughter and her ever growing collection of Arthurian Legend tomes.

  www.monicacorwin.com

  Another Freebie from Monica

  Legend states when the King Arthur is needed most he will return. What if the legends are wrong?

  Maggie Sanders gave six years and two feet of her now scarred and twisted body to the United States Army. She received a thank you note and a discharge in return. Effectively booted to the curb Maggie tries to pick up the pieces of her life until her revival is interrupted by one smoking hot immortal.

  Arthur Pendragon, legendary King and military leader, has been trapped on the mythical island of Avalon for 1500 years. When he is thrust from captivity to the modern world he has to fight to stay there. Too bad for him, she has more fight than he anticipates. With the help of Maggie and a teenage Merlin, Arthur sets out to end his torture and free the rest of his comrades from imprisonment.

  Get it for Free!

  More from Monica

  In the late 21st century, scientists created a serum that gave every person nine lives, also known as souls. Flush with expendable life, Earth collapsed into war and anarchy, leaving the Catholic Church to step in and take control. In a world where the stealing of souls is big business, it takes people like Constance Grace, detective in the Soul Theft Division, to hunt the criminals down and strip them of their remaining souls.

  When social-climbing con man, Noah Hannock, plunks himself on the church’s radar, he becomes Constance’s problem. With a brand new partner, Mikon Cross and seven of her nine given souls remaining, Connie has to enter high society under a too-familiar alias to tempt Noah into her web.

  While the chemistry between Connie and Mikon is scorching hot, the reality is they don’t trust each other. Each with their own secrets to protect, the hunt for Noah Hannock threatens them both. The only way they can survive is if they learn to lay themselves—heart and souls—on the line for each other.

  Grab Your Copy Today!

  Tested by Magic

  Jasmine Walt

  1

  The crack of wood against wood broke the stillness of the cold winter morning. Grunting, I gripped my staff harder and tried to push Roanas back. My arms trembled from the effort, and my mentor grinned at me, his fangs stark white against his black skin. Those tawny lion-shifter eyes glowed with an unholy glee right before he twisted with lightning speed, trying to get past my guard so he could knock me off my feet with a sweep to my calves.

  “Like hell I’m going to fall for that again!” I jumped up, out of the way, then brought my staff swinging down with me. But Roanas had already moved, and I had to pivot and bring my staff up again to keep him from braining me from behind. The birds watching from their perch on the backyard fence squawked in irritation as our staffs clashed again, and several of them took flight as my mentor and I exchanged a flurry of blows, pushing each other back and forth across the yard. I had no idea why the birds insisted on hanging out here if they disliked the noise so much. We did this every morning, after all.

  “Sweating already?” Roanas commented as he parried yet another one of my blows. “It’s far too cold for that, Sunaya.”

  “We’ve been at this for an hour,” I growled, resisting the temptation to swipe at a bead of sweat stinging my eye. As usual, Roanas was barely winded, and the loose Garaian-style shirt and pants he always wore during training were as dry as they had been when we’d started. In contrast, my tank top clung to my sweaty back and ribs, my cheeks were flushed, and my curls were sticking to my temples. “It’s not my fault you’re a freak of nature.”

  Roanas laughed, then sidestepped my next blow and went for my ribs. I parried, twisting to meet him, but my foot slipped on a wet patch of grass and I went crashing to the hard-packed ground. My heart leapt into my throat as Roanas’s staff came swinging down, but I rolled out of the way just before it struck me, then swept my own staff straight beneath his knees.

  “Oof!” Roanas cried as he landed hard on his ass. Grinning, I knocked the staff out of his hands, then pressed the butt of my own weapon against his throat. The two of us froze—Roanas lying in the grass, and me on my knees above him, staff gripped tightly.

  “Very good,” he said, curling his fingers around my weapon. “Now why don’t you help an old man up so we can have some breakfast?”

  I snorted at that, but did as he asked. “Old man, my ass,” I said as I followed him inside the house. “You’re not even a hundred years old yet.”

  Roanas eyed me over his shoulder, a droll expression in his eyes. “Perhaps, but you’re barely eighteen, child. Compared to you, I’m ancient.”

  I laughed, then went into the kitchen to whip up pancake batter while Roana
s used the shower first. This was our morning ritual—we trained in the backyard for an hour, I got breakfast started while he showered, then he finished off the cooking while I got cleaned up and ready for school.

  Except today, I wouldn’t be going to school. I would be going to work. And I could hardly wait.

  As soon as Roanas came into the kitchen, freshly washed and clothed, I bounded up the stairs and into the shower. I was usually in and out fast, but, for once, I took my time washing and dressing, because this was a special day.

  I grinned like a loon as I fastened my brand-new enforcer bracelet on my wrist. I’d worn it day and night ever since the day I’d passed the tests last week, taking it off only for my training sessions with Roanas. Today was the day I’d finally get to activate it, to join the ranks of the bounty hunters who chased down criminals and kept the fair city of Solantha safe. I’d show them all what I was capable of—that an outcast from the panther-shifter clan could make something of herself. I’d wow them with my strength and skill and dedication, and Captain Galling would be so impressed he’d have no choice but to give me a crew of my own.

  “Sunaya!” Roanas called. “Are you going to daydream up there forever, or are you going to come down and eat?”

  “Coming!” I replied, my cheeks coloring a little. Roanas knew me too well. But before I hurried down the stairs, I took one last glance in the mirror. My thick black hair gleamed in the morning light, not a curl out of place, and I’d gone an extra step by putting on eyeliner that made my bottle-green eyes pop. The leather pants and jacket I’d picked up at a thrift shop made me look like a badass, and the crescent knives and chakrams strapped to my body would leave no doubt in anyone’s mind as to my profession. The utility belt cinched around my waist was stuffed with protection charms, a set of handcuffs, and some beef jerky for the road.