by K. F. Breene
Aaron looked across the large hall to Kieran, the first time he’d met his eyes since the promenade. It felt like he was speaking directly to him when he said, “All will be beyond our reach, soon.”
Prickles of uncertainty covered Kieran’s skin. That had sounded like a threat.
“Yes, fine,” Lily said dryly. “Very helpful, as always.”
Kieran lost her next words as his mind spun.
Events connected quickly—Aaron making meaningless interruptions and suddenly losing interest in them, Kieran’s team in turmoil, and now that not-so-subtle threat. Aaron had orchestrated something that affected Kieran, and it didn’t take a genius to know what. Bria had been worried about Aaron’s people summoning the last Spirit Walker. Lexi had been called away from the tea party.
Aaron was making his move.
Kieran let out his breath slowly and clasped his hands, trying to stay calm. Lexi had this covered. Summoning a spirit reduced its power level. Harding was more experienced, but Lexi would be more powerful. Harding also had a soft spot for Lexi. They’d become close over the past several months. If the experience of being summoned and controlled upset him, as Bria suspected it would, it would still only be a matter of time before Lexi talked him around. She had a gift for talking people down off ledges. Aaron was grasping at straws.
Except…why was Kieran’s team spinning in fear?
“Do you feel like something is going on?” Helga whispered, her head bent a little.
He nodded, his mind still racing.
If Harding was in a temper and on the loose, he’d kill more than a few people before Lexi could talk him down. The people in this room would be feeling the loss. They’d be feeling fear from their people as Thane ran through the halls. A big demonstration on technology was supposed to be going on, one Amber and Henry had planned to sit in on. If Harding or Thane got anywhere near that…
The door to the meeting hall burst open amid shouting. Lily paused in her talk as everyone in the room turned toward the door, some anxious, some annoyed.
Lightning flared and the staff standing in front of the newly opened door cowered, sinking in on themselves. The guards must’ve been using magic to keep Kieran’s people out. Dylan strode past them, Henry behind him, fear and anger curling within them. A manic roar followed the clap of thunder, Thane’s unmistakable sound of fury, some ways off but no less potent.
Kieran stood, as did many others.
“What is the meaning of—”
Dylan sent a peal of thunder rolling through the room, silencing Lily and the others. Zander and Flora both waved the sound away, and Zander stood, his power building, and pulled at the weather to bring a storm into the building.
Kieran shoved it away, helped by Demigod Daniela, he had no doubt. She was of Poseidon’s line, as old as the hills, and really crotchety about other people working the weather.
“Demigod Kieran, you must come now.” Henry stepped up beside Dylan. He lifted his hands, and a shot of red veered off toward the ceiling. He’d assumed someone else’s magic in order to deflect the halfhearted attack. He was good in a crowd like this, Demigod or no. “Demigod Aaron set loose a Spirit Walker, and he is killing people within the halls. He set Thane off, and—”
A chorus of complaints interrupted them. “What?” “Preposterous!” ”Get out of here!” “This is a closed meeting!” “Leave them to sort it out!”
Zander, though, turned toward Aaron. His voice boomed, amplified by his magic. “Is this true? Your people called the last Soul Stealer?”
Aaron’s smug smile said it all.
“How did you get the items to summon him?” Zander demanded, but from his tone, he already knew.
Aaron shrugged. “Finders, keepers.”
“Get these fools out of here,” Lydia said. “Get them out and let’s proceed. The battles of the servants are nothing to us.”
But Kieran sensed the fear riding her words. It seemed like she was desperate to stay in the meeting.
He didn’t have time to wonder why, as Henry worked farther into the room. A zip of magic splattered where he’d just stood, his luck almost more potent than his magic.
“Besides, those items never belonged to you, they belonged to my son,” Aaron told Zander. He puffed up as he stood. “He is mighty. Better trained than that girl. My Necromancers will help him steal the show.”
“Oh, he stole the show all right,” Dylan said. “He killed your Necromancers, set off our Berserker, killed anyone he came across, and caused a riot in the tech convention.” Dylan turned to Kieran. “He looks like he has a grudge against our crew. He followed them and is moving to intercept. Lexi is en route, but she asked for you. She might need backup. And someone needs to handle Thane. He’s ripping this place apart with no sign of slowing. Hurry!”
Raw fear and desperation rode that last word. It radiated through the soul link. It was clear that Dylan thought he was about to lose his new family—a thought he could not bear. The sentiment was clear on his face, in his pleading tone and the urgency in his eyes. In his willingness to silence other Demigods to deliver his message.
The decision was made before Kieran could think it through. He’d lose an incredible amount of status if he walked out these doors, he knew. Demigods typically left the battles alone. His team would seem weak if he intervened. Normally, he’d let them handle it.
This was not a regular battle. Perhaps the other Demigods were content to let their groups die, but he wouldn’t leave his people to handle Aaron’s screw-ups. Nor would he leave Lexi out to dry.
He’d always known he was a family man first and a leader second. It didn’t even feel like a choice.
“I’m coming.” Kieran tucked his laptop under his arm and strode from the room. He’d pass it off when he got outside, along with his jacket. There was a time for politics, and there was a time for fighting.
22
Alexis
Bertha pushed the crowd away, and I strode down the aisle toward the zombie filled with not-Harding. Pressure pushed on my shoulders and black shapes darted at the edges of my vision. I was being watched again, and the next time I saw Harding, I was going to turn him inside out and shove him where he’d never see the world of the living again.
“Hey,” I said, loud and clear, before flicking the other Spirit Walker’s soul casing.
The Line pulsed in the room, and it struck me that I’d seen this soul before. He’d shown up at the mark hearing, looking out at us from spirit.
I let my touch linger on his soul casing as he turned around, keeping it gentle so as not to alarm him while I gauged the strength of his prongs. He deserved a chat, to air his grievances. He hadn’t chosen to be pulled from beyond the Line and fastened inside this body—maybe he just wanted to go back.
“There you are,” he said, though his lips didn’t move. “I’ve been looking for you. Remember me?”
“From the other day? Yeah. What were you doing spying?”
“Me spying? What were you doing spying? You came all the way to find me, tap-tap-tapped at my cage, and then walked away? Were you scared?”
I stopped just out of his range. He could slash at my middle, but he couldn’t pry out my soul. Behind him, Zorn pushed everyone farther back, putting as much distance as possible between them and the zombie.
“What…” I let my very real confusion soak into my expression as I delicately analyzed the magic keeping his soul in that body. It was truly a work of art. One I could learn. But it had been done with more power than I possessed.
Could the two Necromancers have combined their power to achieve this?
A light trance allowed me to see the violet lines connected to him, feeding him with power. Most looked small and easy to break. One was thick and strong, however, larger than any I’d seen.
“What are you talking about?” I asked.
“You sought me out. Why? Is it because you wanted to know one of your kind?” He started walking toward me. I let him do it be
cause he was distancing himself from my crew. If they had more room, hopefully they could run for it while still staying outside of his range. Hopefully they’d be able to find Kieran. “I went looking for the Soul Stealer before me when I was still alive. I didn’t have anything of his, but when I was strong enough, I searched for him anyway. Never could find him. I would’ve liked to talk about our craft. It’s lonely at the top, as they say. And then you came along. I knew exactly what you were even though your presence was meager. You’re just starting out, right? Just learning? You’re old for a beginner. Do they train Spirit Walkers differently now?”
I continued tracing the prongs, trying to learn the construction, but his side of the conversation kept derailing me. What he was saying didn’t make any sense, unless he was the Spirit Walker before Harding?
“I grew up outside of the magical world,” I said. “I didn’t have training until I summoned the last Spirit Walker…before me. The one right before me.”
“There is another?” The zombie stopped walking.
“Harding. As far as I know, he was the last.”
“Harding? Harding was…” His soul pulsed midnight black. “Ah, so that’s why you backed off after feeling my cage. You felt what they had turned me into.” He laughed. “Yes, all my goodness has dried up. The boy who was Harding was trained, tortured, and then hidden away, turned into a killer.”
“Wait…no…” I felt dizzy, like I was falling. Things weren’t making sense. I remembered the first time I’d sought out the last Spirit Walker. I’d felt a wall, and a presence pushing up against it. I remembered the seething anger from that presence. Anger that didn’t feel a whole lot like Harding, I had to admit. “But…the guy who followed me said he was Harding. His name is Harding. The feeling of souls doesn’t change—”
“I don’t know who you found, love, but it wasn’t Harding. It still isn’t Harding. That kid died as soon as I went into training. They christened me Damion in the end, the left hand of the devil. They sent me out, in spirit or in body, to kill. And I did. I had no choice. I killed under their guidance. I killed under their orders. And still I was destroyed for my crimes, locked up in a cage beyond the veil where I could never properly rest. Locked up, and then that old Hades Demigod retired. He hasn’t been to visit. No one has. Except for you.”
“Damion…” I mumbled.
He stopped for a moment, analyzing me.
“Those disgusting Demigods in the trial room were interrogating you, weren’t they?” he finally asked. “They were coming down on you for what you are, right? I saw them. Tell me, who has control of you? I can set you free and then punish them. I’m siphoning energy from a Demigod. The fool left my mother poor and alone, left me, and now he wants to make up for it when all is lost. He says he wants a son, but what he really wants is a weapon, like everyone else. His greed and his quest for power has made him desperate. What he’ll get, though, is vengeance. They’ll all get vengeance.” If I could’ve seen his face through that body, I knew he’d be smiling. “With this spirit link, I will never wilt. With my power and my magic, I can create a semblance of a soul link between us. I can release you, my pretty pet. I can show you how to leave your body and its unwanted connections, and claim another. When that one rots away, we can simply take another, and another, until the end of time.”
“Damion is the name of the reprogrammed Spirit Walker,” Bria called out. “The last Spirit Walker. He was born as Harding.”
“But…” I blinked, still utterly confused.
Jerry pushed to the outskirts of the group. He didn’t like being inactive, I could tell. None of them did. But they couldn’t help me here. If they got close, they’d get their spirits yanked out, no problem. I wouldn’t have time to put them back in before it was too late.
Despite the danger the Spirit Walker posed, plus his extremely gross offer of living my days as a rotting corpse (Jerry would throw up every time he looked at me), one thought kept cycling through my mind: if this was the real Harding…who was the other guy?
In the end, though, it didn’t really matter. This guy needed to be stopped. I could figure out the rest later.
“Do you know how to heal a soul, Damion?” I asked, and magically launched into action, working at the prongs docking his soul into the cadaver.
The Line pumped power, throbbing around us.
He shoved my touch away forcefully. The power disparity between us was going to be a problem.
“We are Soul Stealers. Our job isn’t to heal a soul,” he spat. “Our job is to remove it.”
I worked at that weave, frustrated by how much power had gone into creating it. He must’ve done it after the Necromancers had put him into that body, because the magic was definitely that of a highly experienced Spirit Walker. My efforts were clumsy in comparison, much like my attempts to weasel my way through his prongs.
“We are not just killers, Harding.” A violet cord materialized before him, faster than Lydia had created one.
“Don’t call me that,” he said, rage lacing his words. The cord reached out toward me as a thick magical hand punched into my center.
I gasped, reeling. Primal terror welled up in me at the feeling of foreign fingers digging into my middle, scrabbling at the prongs keeping my spirit in my body, trying to destroy my life. This was how people felt when I used my magic. It wasn’t pretty.
Remembering not-Harding’s teachings, I pushed apart the spirit from Damion’s attack and redirected the power. I forced his touch away, but the violet cord latched on. Energy sucked from me in heavy gulps.
Chaos roared and sprang into action, leaping for the zombie. A red lashing of spirit snaked out from the zombie and raked through Chaos’s middle. Chaos cried out in midair, shaking. He landed on his side and twisted and turned in pain. Havoc roared next, flapping the spirit’s soul within its casing. The zombie didn’t even flinch. Havoc stalked around the Spirit Walker at a distance, probably looking for an in before engaging. She’d always been the smarter of the pair.
They weren’t going to help me.
I peeled away the violet cord, freeing myself, and managed to slip past his prongs. But when I took hold of his soul, it was impossible to rip back out. He had too much power. It felt like fighting a Demigod.
“You have such amazing potential,” he said, already attacking my soul box again. His technique was ten times better than mine. He’d had a lifetime of practice, whereas I was just starting. Lord, how it showed. “I can teach you. You can be mighty. Together we will bring Demigods to their knees.”
“All you know how to do is kill!” I thwarted his prying magical fingers as I broke one of his prongs. He tried to rebuild it, but I quickly reconstructed it myself to block his attempt. My prong wouldn’t do anything to keep his soul in place, but it would get in the way.
He grunted. “Clever lady. I wouldn’t have thought of that.”
Thank God I’d become a fast learner under not-Harding’s guidance.
“There is more to this magic than just killing.” I didn’t think there was much chance of talking him around, but I had to try. “You can save people with this magic.”
“You become a puppet with this magic.” His violet cord, never far away, attached to me again, draining me. He walked closer.
I backed up.
“You won’t be a puppet if you find someone to protect and respect you.” I ripped free of his violet cord again, tired now, and took out another of his prongs. I created a block to stop him from re-erecting it as he tore down the first block.
I nearly cried in frustration.
“Where is your protection now?” he asked. “Zander only took notice of me when I killed people he was using. When I killed his profit centers. He only took action when he, himself, was affected. But now, when it’s just you trying to protect someone else’s people, where is he? Where are any of them?”
“They are my people. We’re a crew.” I felt Kieran on the move. He was coming for me, but he was on the othe
r side of the building with crowds of panicking people in his way. It would take him too long to get to me. Damion was too strong.
The violet cord sucked in another gulp of my energy. Damion’s magical touch found purchase, seeping into my soul casing. In just a moment he’d have a choice—try to bind me in whatever spirit way he could devise, or rip out my spirit and end my life.
It was hard to breathe. Fear fogged my brain. I was outmatched and outgunned. Damion was more experienced and more powerful. My Spirit Walker magic wouldn’t save me here.
Something Magnus had said in Lydia’s house registered.
It is not easy to control someone with chaos blood.
Struggling to stay in this fight, ripping at his soul casing in desperation, I did the only thing I could think of. I sought my mother’s help.
23
Alexis
I thought of my mother with everything I had. My energy drained a little more. I could feel Damion working, trying to build a link between us, and although it terrified me, it was the only thing keeping him from yanking out my life. I had precious few moments.
The Line pulsed as if trying to communicate with me, but I dared not slip into spirit, or Damion would have me. I called to my mother, pleading, begging her to forgive this interruption and come to me. The Line pulsed again, and then I felt a tug, like a rope had landed in my hands and someone on the other end was already tugging.
I pried off another of Damion’s prongs, rebuilt it, and tore down the first, trying to work on multiple things at a time, like he was so adept at doing. I pushed away his violet cord and tried to attach my own cord to him. I could not banish him from my soul box, though. I could not stop him from touching the very essence of me, a place only Kieran had touched before.
