Dark Strike, page 14
“She?” said one of the priests, the only one with his hair pulled back into a low ponytail. “The necromancer was a she?”
“Yes. She.” I looked at their shocked expressions. “Looks like the necromancers don’t discriminate with the sexes.” I let that sink in a moment. “Then she raised her arms and produced some kind of black mist that spread out over a crowd of people.” I took a breath and added, “Then I saw their souls.”
“You saw their souls? How?” asked Father Peter.
“I saw their souls leave their bodies. I saw them… hovering in the air.”
Father Peter’s gaze cut into mine. “And where did the souls go?”
I knew this was coming. “I don’t know. She snapped her fingers… and they were just gone.”
“Just gone?” questioned Father Peter incredulously. “Souls can’t be just gone. They either reach Horizon, or they are killed and don’t go anywhere.”
“Well, these ones were just gone,” I said, starting to get pissed off at his attitude. “Look. I’m not making this up. I saw it with my own eyes. So did my friends. The souls disappeared. Where? I have no freaking idea. But the necromancers do.”
If awards were given for the “scowl of the year,” Father Peter would have been a true winner.
“You are a very insolent young woman,” said the priest.
I curtsied. “Thanks, hon.”
Father Thomas cleared his throat. “Where do you think they are, Rowyn?”
“Well, Shane—the angel who came to look at the body in my living room—seems to think maybe the souls were taken to the Netherworld.”
Wait for it…
The congregated priests let out another round of exasperated cries of outrage. Father Thomas stood up and glared at the other priests. They stopped their hissy fits but kept glowering.
“The angel,” said Father Thomas as he clasped his hands together before him, “believes the necromancers are working with the demons?”
I shrugged. “It’s a theory. He told me he’d get back to me later with more intel. But for now, it’s the only thing that would make sense. I mean, the souls aren’t here, in this world. If they’re not here, they’ve got to be somewhere else. That somewhere else is pointing to the Netherworld.” Because we didn’t know where else they could be.
Father Thomas’s dark eyes searched my face. “What about how the necromancers can keep the bodies alive without a soul? Or how they can pilot them?”
I shook my head. “He doesn’t know. He told me he’d have answers for me once he had more time working on the body.” Yup. Really lame, but it was the truth and it was all I had at the moment. “You can glare at me all you want,” I told the other priests, my gaze flicking between them. “It won’t change the fact that right now we’ve got a whole lot of nothing, and thousands of people are going to die if we don’t stop the necromancers.”
“These people are already dead.” Father Peter watched me. “Once the soul leaves the body, it cannot return.”
I turned to Father Thomas, my eyes narrowing. “What’s he talking about?” I didn’t like the expression on the priest’s face. “Is that true?”
Father Thomas sighed through his nose. “I’m afraid so, Rowyn. Once the soul leaves the body, it has already started its new path. A soul will only leave when the body is truly dead. Souls enter the body when a new life is born. And they leave when the body dies.”
Bullshit. “But these people are not dead.” I curled my fingers into fists and felt pain sear my flesh as my fingernails cut into my palms. “They’re walking and breathing. They have heartbeats. That’s not dead. That’s alive.” You white-collar douches.
Father Peter gave me a disdainful glance and then snapped, “People don’t come back from the dead.”
“I did,” I blabbed before I could stop myself. The archangel Raphael had never specified my resurrection as a secret. My face was hot with a surge of bubbling fury. “I died. And here I am. In the flesh. So, how do you explain that?”
Father Peter smiled. “You’re a liar.”
It took all my strength to remain still and not vault across the room to land a sidekick into the priest’s throat.
My blood pounded in my ears, and I matched his smile instead. “I’m not lying.” But the priests all looked away from me, dismissing me like I was crazy. Okay, I did crazy things sometimes, but that didn’t make me crazy.
Father Peter’s mouth hardened into a firm line. “Necromancers animate the dead. It’s what they do. As a Hunter, I would have assumed you knew this. It appears they’ve mastered this skill as they have reanimated thousands of the dead.”
“Thousands of alive,” I shot back. I couldn’t help it. “These people are alive.”
The priest’s face took on another darker shade. “Why are you here, Hunter, if you are not willing to help?”
“I am trying to help.”
“It looks to me like you’re just wasting our time. We’re here to discuss how to save the lives of those who matter.”
I raised my voice. “Those who matter?”
Father Peter looked at Father Thomas. “The people who live and are in danger of the necromancers’ Death magic. The other thousands who are at risk if we don’t put a stop to this.”
“So, let me get this straight. You’re going to do nothing?” I glared at them all. “You’re just going to let all those people die?”
“It’s extremely taxing to have oneself keep repeating the same thing over and over again. I’ll tell you one last time. Those people are dead. Forget about them. Think of those who are alive.”
I’d had enough. “You’re wrong. And I’m going to prove it.” I stormed out of the office.
“Rowyn! Where are you going?” shouted Father Thomas.
“I have a sudden need to take a shower,” I shouted back as I cleared the doorframe and headed down the hall. To wash this filth off of me.
The priests’ voices rose in anger behind me. Father Thomas and a few others I couldn’t recognize were in a shouting match. I was so mad I could barely see straight, and I practically kicked the side door open and marched out. The cooler air was welcome on my hot cheeks as I made my way to my Subaru in the parking lot. I had no idea if my theory was right, if somehow the souls were returned to their bodies, life would breathe into them again. Yet, I had a feeling it would. I couldn’t explain it. I just couldn’t accept what the priests were telling me. I had died and was brought back again. If it had worked for me, wouldn’t it work for all those people? Granted, I’d been killed for a purpose, to become a Dark angel no less, but the principle was the same. Wasn’t it?
If anyone was an expert in souls, the angels were. Shane would know and the next time I saw him, I was going to ask him.
By the time the hooded figure stepped into my line of sight, it was already too late.
CHAPTER 20
“Okay. I’ll admit it. You got me,” I said to the necromancer because, let’s face it, he really did. But it didn’t mean I still couldn’t kick his ass.
And yes, it was a he this time. Though he looked like a crackhead, I recognized him as the same necromancer who’d sicked his zombies on us in the temple. This was going to be fun!
Though his hood kept most of his face in shadow, his white skin seemed to glow in the sunlight. It had that pasty, waxy corpse quality to it. Something that could have been black eyeshadow covered most of his eye area and framed his pale eyes, giving him a raccoon look. Though I’d seen him before, the no eyebrows and eyelashes still creeped me out. The stench of rot was the worst. He smelled like he slept with the dead. Hell, maybe he did.
Instincts kicking in, I cast my gaze around the parking lot and the neighboring buildings. I couldn’t see any zombies or soulless anywhere. Though it didn’t mean they weren’t there hiding, waiting for the perfect moment to ambush me. I seriously doubted he’d show up alone. From what I’d witnessed with the necromancers, they never fought alone. They always had an army at their disposal. A dead one. Or worse, a soulless army.
I yanked out my soul blade. “Where are all your dead pals? Thought you guys never left home without them.” I smiled. “Did you guys have a fight?”
The necromancer’s gray lips spread widely. “I thought we could do this, just the two of us.” He arched a hairless brow. “You know… one on one.”
The way he looked at me, like he wanted me—not to have sex with me, but to eat my soul—was a million times more eerie and disturbing. Not to mention gross.
“I gotta thank you.” I laughed. “You’ve just made my job a hell of a lot easier.”
His face, wrinkled and haggard like it had been in the water for months, cracked a smile. “Really? And what job is that, Rowyn?”
“To kick your ass, silly.” I flashed him my teeth. “Are you going to tell me your name, or do you want me to make one up again. I’ve got loads of really good ones. Please say yes.”
The necromancer chuckled. “You can call me Lord Rath.”
I chuckled back. “I’m not about to call you lord. No, Rath it is. Kinda sounds like rat. Doesn’t it? Yeah. That name suits you. Good choice.” I gave him a thumbs up.
Lord Rath folded his hands in front of him. “I’m going to make this easy for you.”
“Do tell, Rath. Rath. Rath. Rath.” I was liking saying that name for some reason. “The suspense is killing me.” But I’m going to kill you first. Stinker.
The necromancer flashed me his yellow, rotten teeth. “Give me back the ferro ex mortuis now, and I will let your soul live. Refuse, and I will torment your soul until the end of time with the rest of them.”
I cocked my hip. “The what ferro? Sorry, I don’t speak douchebag.”
“The blade at your hip,” answered Lord Rath, his voice short. “Give it back.”
Ah ha. So, this blade was important to him. Why? One thing was for certain. If it was important enough to seek me out, no way in hell I was going to give it to him.
“Rath, Rath, Rat—oops, I mean Rath. You need to respect the rules, buddy. We all do.”
The necromancer’s face was blank. “The rules?”
I waved my blade as I spoke. “Finders keepers, losers weepers. Come on, you know it.”
Lord Rath’s gray lips twisted into a snarl. “The ferro ex mortuis doesn’t belong to the nonbelievers. You’ve already soiled it, having it next to you like that. You should have never touched it with your filthy hands.”
I stared at my fingernails. “Okay. So I might need a manicure, but I wouldn’t exactly call them filthy.” A thought occurred to me. “Is that why you came to my house?” I’d thought it was because we’d freed the soulless from the barn, but now I wasn’t so sure. “You came for your blade? For this?” I made a show of my weapons belt with the necromancer blade snug in its new sheath.
Lord Rath said nothing, but I took that as a giant yes.
I tapped the ferro ex mortuis with my finger. “Why is it so important? It’s just a piece of stone. It is stone, right? Granted, it’s very pretty. Make another one. I’m keeping this one right here.”
The necromancer dipped his head. “You’ll never understand, but the blade is useless to you. Only in Death can the ferro ex mortuis shine.”
“Right,” I answered. “And you were going to use it to sacrifice that poor woman, Cynthia.”
Lord Rath’s smile was a wintry thing. “Cynthia chose willingly to sacrifice herself to Death. No one forced her. She was happy to do it.”
I sucked in a breath through my teeth. “Happy to do it? The woman was brainwashed since she was probably just a kid in your creepy cult. She had no idea what she was agreeing to. You were using her. Her life meant nothing to you.”
“On the contrary,” said the necromancer. “Her life meant a great deal. Unlike yours, hers has a true purpose.”
Now, why did he have to go and say that? “My life does have meaning, you skinny bastard. It’s meant to kick your ass.”
Lord Rath laughed. “The only thing you have that’s worth anything in this world… is your soul. Souls are powerful tools.”
I wanted to vomit at how sick he sounded. “Since we’re on the subject of souls,” I began, “which demon did you bargain with?” If I knew the demon, maybe I could strike a better deal somehow. It probably wouldn’t work, but I was desperate. I’d do anything to get the souls back.
The necromancer lost some of his smile. “Demon?”
“Yeah. The one who’s keeping all those souls you stole in the Netherworld for you.”
At that, the sinister man laughed, and the sound sent a wave of pricks over my skin. “Necromancers don’t make deals with demons.” He laughed again, and this time I wanted to punch him in the face. “And we’d never give them any of our souls. Why would we give them the source of our power?” He stared at me for several seconds. “You really don’t know anything about us. Do you?”
Okay, now I was really confused. If the necromancers didn’t make a deal with the demons, and the souls weren’t kept in the Netherworld, where were the souls?
I flashed him my teeth. “How about you tell me, and then we can argue about that too.” I doubted he was going to spill the beans, but it was worth a shot.
Lord Rath remained calm. “You don’t have the knowledge you need to understand, Hunter. It would be a waste of my time.”
“Yada yada yada. I’m getting bored.” Partly true. “Are we going to fight or what?”
Lord Rath gestured with his right hand. “Give me the blade,” he threatened. “I won’t ask you again.”
I waved my soul blade at him. “Come and get it, Rat.” I wasn’t going to make this easy for him. After what they’d pulled on all those humans, he deserved a good ol’ ass-whooping.
Lord Rath’s lips moved in a silent spell. A wind rose and so did the smell of carrion and sulfur. The necromancer blinked and his eyes had gone completely white.
Crap. Not this again.
A sudden noise pulled my attention toward the back of the church, to the graveyard beyond. People moved around the gravestones, their tread stiff and slow. Not people. Zombies—about fifty of them.
Damn.
I arched a brow and glanced at the necromancer. “A herd of zombies in broad daylight. You’re ballsy. I’ll give you that.”
“Thank you,” said the creep.
“You never intended this to be a fair fight.” I knew the odds of surviving a herd of fifty zombies were slim, even for me. I had a better chance at fighting just this necromancer death junkie. “Can’t do it. Can you? You’re too pathetic, too weak to know how to make a fist and use it?”
His eyes widened, frustration evident on his face. “I don’t need to use my fists. Does a king need to fight when he has an army at his disposal?”
King? That was a giant ego right there. I shrugged. “I’ve done the zombie thing before. It’s getting a little too cliché for me. How about you give me something new. How about you show me your giant necromancer balls and fight.” Yeah, that didn’t come outright, but you get the picture.
Lord Rath lowered his hood. His bald head gleamed, and parts of his scalp had black marks on it like he’d taken a piece of coal and smeared it on his head and along the sides of his neck. “Have it your way then,” said the necromancer. “I didn’t want to have to do this just yet, but you’ve changed my mind.” There was silence for a moment. “It amazes me that an idiot such as you were a Hunter once.”
“I’m still a Hunter, asshat,” I said, and I couldn’t keep the anger or frustration out of my voice.
“Not for long.” He mumbled a word under his breath, and the mass of twitching, shuffling zombies halted just beyond the border of the church’s parking lot.
I breathed a mental sigh of relief. It wasn’t a huge win, but I took it.
I didn’t like the smug smile on the bastard’s face. “Why are you smiling? The fighting hasn’t even started yet.”
Lord Rath regarded me with an expression somewhere between irritation and satisfaction. “You took something from me, and now I’ve taken something from you.”
I felt something of a chill at his words. He was arrogant, looking at me as though he’d already won the fight. He wasn’t a fighter, not in the one-on-one sense of the word. He was a thinker. Thinkers were the worst kind of enemies. A smart enemy didn’t have to be stronger or faster than you. He just had to outsmart you.
And that’s exactly what he was thinking.
I swallowed hard and lowered into a fighting stance. “You’ve got nothing on me.”
Lord Rath tilted his head and began circling me as I moved accordingly. “I took it,” he said, making a fist of his hand. “It’s mine now. It will always be mine.”
Gotcha. He meant my soul. “I still have my soul, dumbass.”
He eyed me, a faint glimmer of humor somewhere in the look. “I wasn’t talking about yours. I’m talking about the soul of a loved one. Someone precious to you.”
Another chill spiraled up from my lower back to my neck and stayed there. “What did you say?”
“You gave me no choice, Rowyn. You should have given me back the ferro ex mortuis when I asked you.”
Oh, my god. Gran.
My knees buckled and I nearly fell. “Did you…” No, I couldn’t even say the words. It couldn’t be true. “You’re lying.” I should have stayed with her. I should never have come.
Lord Rath cocked his head. “You know I’m not. And it was so easy. Almost a joke, at how easy it was to take the soul. I barely lifted a finger.”
Rage thumped into my blood. “I don’t believe you! You’re a liar. Liar!” I snarled, pointing my blade with barely controlled fury. “If you did anything to her… I’m going to kill you and all your freakish brothers and sisters.” I tried to focus through the fog of my rage, but the image of my dead grandmother squished all the reason from my brain.
“It’s over,” said Rath, and then he sucked on his fingers like he was licking the icing from a cake. “The soul is mine. It will always be mine. Forever.”
The steady rage inside me flared into a full-blown madness and will to kill.
