Dark Strike, page 12
Shane pressed his lips together. “And neither was the soul. His soul lived for three days. That, I am certain. And then it just… died. Quickly.”
I leaned back a bit from the body, hoping to catch a bit of fresh air. “How can they do that? The necromancers? How could they trap a soul? It doesn’t make sense.”
Tyrius cleared his throat. “Don’t forget they removed the souls and kept the bodies alive.”
“Right. That.”
The angel shrugged. “My guess is with Death magic. But I’ll have to do a bit more examining to be sure. Necromancers use the dead as weapons. I’ve never heard of them using souls. And in this way.”
“Now you have,” said Tyrius.
I looked at the angel. “Where do you think they were holding the souls? Could they have been holding them in their temples?” How do you even hold a soul? In a jar? A room? I was having a really hard time trying to imagine it.
“Again, I’m not sure,” said the angel. “Souls are basically energy. To be able to capture a soul and keep it alive and hidden somewhere takes great power. It’s possible the necromancers figured out a way to do this at their temple… and it’s also possible the souls were kept… elsewhere.”
“Elsewhere?” I asked, not missing the hardness in his voice. “You mean the Netherworld?”
The angel’s dark eyes met mine. “It’s also a possibility. But again, this is all just speculation.”
Son of a bitch. This was bad.
My tension rose, stiffening my shoulders. “You think they made a deal with a demon?”
The angel looked down at the body. “I would have said no before seeing this with my own eyes. Demons trade in mortal souls. And they do have the power to keep souls for a few days, even weeks. But it’s usually for something greater like power over their world and, of course, more souls. But a demon making a deal with a necromancer? What could the necromancers offer the demons in exchange? If not the souls in question, then what? Necromancers are mortal. They mean nothing to demons. And from what I can see, the soul wasn’t tampered by demons. There are no demonic traces. None.”
I rubbed my eyes. Now I was even more confused. “It might just be a theory, but it’s something.”
“The best something we’ve got so far,” said Tyrius, and I was surprised he was agreeing with the angel.
If the necromancers had indeed made a deal with demons, I might be able to break that deal if I knew the demon in question. It would help to know what the necromancers offered the demons as well. One thing was for sure. This necromancer ordeal kept getting worse.
Tyrius twitched his tail behind him. “Well, at least we know no more people got their souls hijacked.”
“That we know of.” I looked at the angel. “The Legion keeps track of souls, right?”
“Yes.”
“It’s part of the job description as a guardian angel.”
“It is.”
“So,” I said. “Then you were aware that some souls were missing?”
The angel shook his head and stood up. “It’s not how it works.”
I got up, not wanting to look up at him. “Really? Okay. Explain it to me.” If the Legion knew about the missing souls, why didn’t they do anything about it?
“We know when souls die,” answered the angel, and I saw Gareth cross his arms over his chest, watching the angel with a curious expression. “We keep track of every living soul. When a single soul dies, even among the billions, we know about it. But a missing soul… is not a dead soul. We had no way of knowing the necromancers were doing this. Not until the angel-borns approached us.”
It was not what I wanted to hear. “So, the Legion won’t be able to warn us if the necromancers start stealing souls again.”
Shane shook his head. “I’m afraid not.”
Tyrius cursed under his breath. “This is not good, Rowyn. How are we going to find these sick bastards if we don’t know where or when they’ll strike again?”
A beep sounded from my phone, and I pulled it out of my pocket. My heart thrashed as I read the text. “I just got a 911 from the Council.” I looked up and met Gareth’s intense gaze. “The necromancers have been spotted in Times Square, New York.”
“Stop your grinnin’ and drop your linen.” Tyrius leaped into the air, his tail high and slashing behind him. “Let’s roll!”
Smiling, I rushed to the hallway, wrapped my weapons belt around my waist, and slipped my jacket over it. Only when I had my boots on did I remember the angel and the dead body.
Oops.
I hurried back to the living room. “Are you two coming with us?” I asked, glancing at Lance and Shane.
“I’m coming,” said the white dog. “You’re going to need my help.”
“Like we need a flea bath,” muttered Tyrius.
Shane gave me a tight smile. “Go. I need to take the body back with me to Horizon. We need to perform some tests and see if we can figure out how the necromancers were able to keep the body alive without the soul.”
Made sense. “Thank you for your help.”
The angel smiled. “My pleasure.”
Before I could ask the angel how he was planning on taking the corpse with him, he said, “Go. I’ll take care of him. I presume you have a bathtub, right?”
“Yes,” I answered, knowing the angels needed water to transition back to Horizon. It still didn’t explain how he was going to transport the body, but it wasn’t my call. I was needed elsewhere. “All right, then.”
When I looked back, Gareth, Tyrius, and Lance were waiting for me by the front door.
I smiled, imagining the surprise on the necromancer’s face when my fist connected with his jaw. Got you, you son of a bitch.
Feeling slightly better about this outcome, I rushed out the front door.
CHAPTER 17
We ran through the rush of humans along West 42nd Street in Manhattan. Enormous stone and glass buildings rose around us on either side. Massive billboards and television screens the size of cars blinked down at us. The busy street overwhelmed my ears with loud honks and running motors. The smell of grease and beer from the pubs reached me, and so did the roasted peanuts, asphalt, and the stink of exhaust.
Thousands of locals and tourists scrambled along the streets, laughing and enjoying the city life. The street was packed with the usual business types: women and men in expensive suits, carrying café lattes in one hand while chatting on their cell phones with the other.
“Do you know where on 42nd street?” came Tyrius’s voice in my ear. The cat’s body was wrapped around my neck like a scarf.
“Near 9th Avenue,” I panted back, aware of a human woman eyeing me strangely. Then her eyes widened as she spotted a large white dog jogging next to me when I rushed past her.
Okay, so we looked a little weird. It wasn’t every day you saw a man in a fedora hat and a long black trench coat, a woman with a cat wrapped around her neck and a white wolf running alongside without a leash or collar. We were a true motley crew, and that’s how I liked it.
The green sign with 9th Avenue written in white letters came into view. “There. We’re here,” I said as I halted at the corner of the street, my lungs about to burst out of my chest.
Tyrius shifted around my shoulders. “I’m not seeing any necromancers. Mutt? You getting any necro vibes down there?”
Lance looked over at the wave of humanity. “Would it surprise your whiskers that I do?” I wasn’t alarmed that the dog had spoken right in the middle of a cluster of humans. To them, it sounded just like an ordinary dog barking and not the voice of a person.
“Don’t you bring my whiskers into this,” mewed the cat.
Gareth brushed up against me. “Where are they?” His long coat swung around him like a cape, a super-elf.
The white dog cocked his head to the side. “Right here.”
A human man walked by and patted Lance’s head. “Cute dog.” He flashed me his teeth and walked away.
It was really hard not to laugh at the expression on Lance’s face, part horror, and part anger. What did he expect? He’d chosen to wear the guise of a dog, and a big white one at that. He was bound to get some attention.
“Here?” Tyrius moved to my left shoulder. “We’re here. And I don’t see them. Looks like you’re not as smart as you think you are, Benji.”
The dog’s ears flattened on his head. “I’m telling you. The necromancers are here. I can sense their energies.”
“Their energies,” I repeated, wishing I had those powerful angel senses again. I kinda missed that. And my superspeed. I knew angels had heightened abilities to sense the supernatural, but in a crowd of thousands of mortals with their own energies, that was seriously impressive. “How many are there?”
“Three,” answered the dog. “I’m sensing three distinctly different energies.”
Three. My heart slammed in my chest as I spun on the spot with my hand on my weapons belt. I wasn’t about to take out my blade in broad daylight, not yet, and not unless I had no other choice. I caught sight of one of the angel-born teams across the street from us, all in black gear with identical frowns on their faces. They hadn’t spotted the necromancers either.
If Lance said they were here, they were here. I believed him and I trusted his angel instincts. The necromancers were here. I just had to find them.
“Maybe we should split up,” said Gareth. “We might be able to spot them better if we separate. It’s impossible to see anything with all these people.” He frowned at a group of young men who’d purposely hit him in the shoulder as they moved past us.
“The elf does have a point,” said Tyrius. “This place is crawling with humans. We’ll never pick them out of a crowd like this.”
“We will.” I threw my gaze over the heads that crowded our side of the sidewalk. “I’m pretty sure I can spot them.” I don’t think I could ever forget the gaunt faces the necromancers shared. “They don’t have glamour magic.” Or did they? I hoped not.
“No.” Tyrius’s hot breath brushed my cheek. “They have Death magic. It’s worse.”
“I’m not seeing any zombies at the moment.” The dread I’d been feeling since I jumped out of Gareth’s truck intensified. Why were the necromancers here in the first place? What about 42nd street attracted them?
“Well,” said Tyrius, and I felt him lie down on my shoulder and shift until he was comfortable. “I’m going to take a nap. Wake me up with the action hits.”
“Just like a cat,” mumbled Lance.
“Exactly.” Tyrius nudged his cold nose against my neck. Though I couldn’t see his eyes, I was certain the little kitty had them closed.
I let out a long sigh and looked around, seeing wall-to-wall human bodies but no necromancers. Were the necromancers hiding? Had they spotted us and run away?
“How gentle do you want me to be if I happen to catch one of them?” asked Gareth, a hint of mischief in his voice.
I flashed the elf a smile. “Just as gentle as I would be, honey.”
The elf beamed, transforming his handsome face into a sexy visage. “That’s my girl.”
“Will you to shut it,” moaned the cat. “I’m trying to get some shut-eye. Not nightmares, thank you very much. I think I just threw up in my mouth.”
I laughed, which was totally inappropriate at the moment, but it did ease some of the tension I was feeling.
I didn’t know how long I stood there watching the wave of humanity roll up around us. We kept getting looks from passersby. Lance was drawing a lot of attention. The animal lovers went right up to him and scratched his head while the pooch gave me a deathly glare. But most of the humans gave us and Lance a wide berth.
When I felt myself relax a little, I saw her.
In the middle of a wave of people, not a hundred feet across from me stood a necromancer.
She was tall, freakishly tall for a woman. Maybe six-four, give or take a few inches. Even from where I stood, I could see her face clearly. Her features stretched, her cheekbones sticking out above pale, sunken eyes that rested below a hairless brow. Her face was gaunt and pale, like she’d been starving herself on purpose for years. But this wasn’t anorexia. This was, I guessed, what happened to your body when you played around with Death magic. You ended up looking like a corpse. Like death.
Her bony shoulders were draped with a black robe, her face partially hidden with her cowl. She reminded me of the Sith characters from Star Wars. If she thought wearing that would make her blend in, she was even more stupid than the notion that shaving her eyebrows was a good thing. Trust me. Shaved eyebrows didn’t look good. Period.
And she just stood there, facing me while people milled around her. She held herself straight with brisk purpose, confidence, and calculating eyes. She wanted me to find her. Okay, so that might be part of her plan.
But I was still going to kick her bony ass.
Her pale eyes focused on me and her face stretched into an all-too-tight smile, like her skin was about to crack open and bleed.
“There!” I shouted, pointing to the necromancer who hadn’t moved. When I saw both Gareth and Lance had seen her too, I took off at a run.
No point in waiting.
Tag, I’m it.
Hands out, I knocked humans out of the way as I rushed toward the necromancer. She was mine. All mine.
“A little warning would have been nice!” cried Tyrius as he hung around my shoulders, his nails piercing into my flesh as he hung on for dear life.
“I did. I said ‘there.’”
“Not. Good. Enough,” the cat howled.
The necromancer spun around and slipped through the crowd. It didn’t matter. I had eyes on her. She wasn’t going anywhere.
“Move! Out of the way! Move!” I shouted as I pushed humans from my path not so gently. A big bearded man cursed me out. I didn’t blame him. I’d have cursed me out too.
“Sorry,” I cried as I kept going.
I spotted a slip of her black robe before she disappeared into a crowd of teenage girls. She was fast. How’d she manage to move that fast with all these people in the way? I rushed to where I’d last spotted her. Nothing.
Cursing, I plowed forward, vaulting around humans up the street until I saw her again. The necromancer spun around. Her eyes were completely white, and her lips moved as she raised her hands as though in a chant. A dark mist emanated from her hands, spreading out, over and around her like a glowing black sphere.
“Watch it, I feel a spell coming,” said Tyrius.
“I don’t care. I can reach her before she finishes.” Fury bubbled up in me as I was rushing towards her—
Something grabbed me from behind and I was pulled into a hard chest.
“Don’t,” hissed Gareth in my ear, his hands around my waist, pinning me to him.
“Why? I have her.” I struggled in his grip, confused as to why he’d grabbed me. A flash of white appeared in my line of sight, and Lance was there, next to us. His ears were low, and a deep growl emanated from his throat.
Gareth’s lips brushed my cheek. “You don’t. Look.”
The back haze-like sphere had spread to a circumference of about a hundred feet, enveloping at least a hundred or so humans. The scent of rot was overwhelming and snuffed out every other scent in the street.
It only lasted for a few seconds, and then the sphere fell.
If Gareth hadn’t grabbed me when he did, I would have been inside that sphere.
With her hands still held high, the necromancer smiled at me. Well, I think she was smiling at me, but without irises, it was hard to tell who she was looking at.
And then something strange happened.
All those people who’d been cloaked inside the circle froze. After a moment, the skin on all of them sparkled, as though it was painted with millions of tiny diamonds. The diamonds then detached themselves and hovered above each person, slowly coming together into a ball of light, like a tiny sun. Souls.
Oh no.
I knew what this was, and I could do nothing but watch as the souls were ripped away from the innocent people. Then as one, the souls all sprang towards the necromancer. At first I thought she was going to grab them somehow, but then she simply snapped her fingers and the souls vanished.
“Rowyn,” said Tyrius. “What the hell just happened?”
“She took their souls. That’s what happened.” I pulled out of Gareth’s grip, my eyes on the necromancer bitch. I yanked out my blade, pointed it toward her, and mouthed you’re dead.
When I looked back at the humans, they were all staring at me with yellow eyes.
Tyrius’s nails cut through the skin on my shoulder. “Uh—I think this is bad.”
Still smiling, the necromancer lowered her hands and spoke two words. “Kill them.”
And then the wave of soulless humans spun around, their yellow eyes locked on to us, and charged.
CHAPTER 18
Have you seen the movie where the mob of soulless people comes crashing down on you on 42nd Street? Yeah, me neither.
The three of us sprinted in the opposite direction right after Gareth flung out two shots of his sleeping elf dust, which, unfortunately, only landed on maybe twenty or so of the soulless. They fell, but then a mass of soulless behind them just hurtled over them and came at us again.
It gave us a few seconds’ head start, and we took it gladly.
I was also glad I had on my light boots, which were perfect for running. The image of me trying to run in those six-inch heeled boots Layla always seemed to wear would have killed me or broken an ankle. Probably both.
“I just love an afternoon jog,” I panted as I picked my way between two men in dark business suits who hadn’t yet noticed the mob approaching behind us. “Um—where are we running to?”
Gareth sprinted next to me, his long legs moving with ease. “My truck.”
“Are we going to run them over with your truck?”
“No.” A frown spread over the elf’s face. “My truck is going to get us out of here.”
