Dark Strike, page 19
I flashed them one of my best smiles. “You wouldn’t happen to know where the souls are? Would you? Maybe just point me in the right direction?”
The wraiths cocked their heads to the side.
“Right. Didn’t think so.”
“You are Rowyn Sinclair,” said one of the wraiths, its voice low with a cruel tone.
I stiffened. “How did you know that?” You specter freaks. I didn’t like that they knew my name.
“You passed through the realm of Death,” answered the wraith. “Your soul is now connected to Death. To us. We know everything about you.”
I pursed my lips. “That’s nice. And you are… let me guess… the guardians of this place?”
The same wraith took a step forward. “We are the soul collectors.”
“More like the soul jailors.” I gritted my teeth at the way their heads kept lolling to the sides. “You’re not getting mine, wraiths.”
“We already have,” said another of the soul collectors in a voice I was sure was smiling.
My Hunter instincts came through, and I brushed my hand against my hip, expecting to pull out my soul blade. Instead, I stared at the black necromancer blade in my grasp.
The ferro ex mortuis.
My face scrunched in surprise. Weird. My soul blade didn’t follow me to the realm of Death, only the necromancer blade did. It was sharp and had a pointy end. That’d work.
Feeling a little brasher, I waved the ferro ex mortuis. “No. You don’t. Na na na na naaa!”
The five wraiths hissed, their heads following the movement of the ferro ex mortuis, like a dog would when teased with a treat. But I had the feeling they didn’t exactly like this blade. In fact, it seemed as though they hated it. Good. I’d use that too.
I gestured to each in turn with the necromancer blade. “Eeny, meeny, miney, moe, catch a tiger by the toe. If he hollers, let him go. Eeny, meeny, miney, moe.” I pursed my lips. “Nah. I can’t choose.” I cocked my hip and flashed them my pearly whites. “Okay then. Who’s first?”
Three of the five wraiths rushed forward.
“Hey, not fair!” I shouted as I angled myself, calculating my attack and defense strategy.
In a flash of black, slimy, corrupted fingers stretched forward, and I sliced through them with a great upward arc. Black mist poured out of the stump end of its fingers, making me pause. That was weird. Was that from the ferro ex mortuis or was it the wraith’s blood mist? Though curious, I didn’t have time to dwell on it. Not if I didn’t want these wraith douchebags to take my soul.
The wraith hissed, halting for a second, which helped. Until the other two vaulted forward.
Crap.
Spinning, I demonstrated the stop-thrust jab I had been practicing with Gareth the past weekends. My blade arm straightened like one limb to its full extent. The dark knifepoint ripped through the nearest wraith’s neck, and into twelve inches of air beyond.
The wraith screeched, its rotten fingers gripping the blade as it tried to pull itself free. Where its fingers touched the blade, white-hot sparks plumed between its knuckles.
And then the wraith exploded into a cloud of black mist.
And I mean mist—the wet, sulfur-stink mist that clings to everything and continues to smell even if you wipe it off. Nasty stuff. When demons exploded, it was usually ashes, but you did get the occasional slop of entrails now and then. This stuff was wet. Ewww.
“Gross,” I cried. Spitting or trying to spit what I knew I’d gotten into my mouth, but all I did was hack air. You try to spit when you don’t have any saliva.
A blur of limbs flashed in my line of sight.
I ducked. Too late.
I cried out as searing pain erupted from my arm. One of the wraith’s hands was wrapped around my left arm, its touch like burning acid. Whatever body I had in this realm was like butter to these guys. I’d melt at nothing.
I felt like its touch was going to burn a hole right through my arm. I liked my arm. It had been a very good arm to me all these years. I still needed it.
With a swing of my right arm, I plunged the necromancer blade into the eye, or brain, or whatever was beneath that hood. I knew I’d hit something when the wraith let go of me and the pain stopped.
I pulled my arm up. Yup. A nasty black handprint wrapped around the skin of my arm. Apparently, this body could burn too.
“Now, look what you did. Bad wraith. Very bad wraith,” I said and looked up.
The wraith I’d stabbed combusted into—wait for it—a cloud of black mist.
This time I was prepared.
I ducked and turned. When I came up again, the remaining three wraiths were not three wraiths anymore—but a wall of wraiths, a dozen strong.
“Figures.” I raised my brows and shrugged. “Why is it that the bad guys never want to play fair? I know. Because fair would be me kicking your specter asses. And you know it.”
The wraiths hissed and swayed from side to side in a sinister dance of death, a continuous stream of guttural moans emanating from them.
Well, I wasn’t just going to stand there. I might be a tad crazy, but I wasn’t an idiot.
I turned on my heel and ran.
I ran as fast as I could, which wasn’t exactly an easy feat in the sand, but I’d figured I had maybe a few seconds’ lead.
Something hit me in the back of the head.
Guess not.
I pitched forward, mouth open in surprise, and yes, shoveled up buckets of sand with my jaw as I went. Coughing, I rolled and kicked up with my legs, knowing a wraith would be there. My boots make contact with something solid and I had enough time to see the wraith fall back just as another replaced it.
Damn. This was not going as well as I had hoped.
Scooping as much of the blue sand as I could from my mouth with my fingers, I stood and swiped the necromancer blade like I would a long sword, hoping to slice a few wraiths before they had a chance to burn me again.
Dread was a sudden finality. There was no way I could fight all of these soul collectors, especially when it seemed they could just appear out of thin air in this place. I had a nasty feeling there were a hell of a lot more of them too if their job was to guard the souls, and there were thousands of stolen souls in here… well, you get the picture.
I was good. But I wasn’t that good.
The wraiths seemed to relax a little. Either that, or they knew a victory when they saw one.
My shoulders slumped. I had failed. And I never even had a chance to find the souls, let alone free them.
I tried again to pull back into my mind, to connect into that place, that state of consciousness that allowed me to take this crazy-ass trip, wanting my ticket out of here. I floundered my mind again and again, but it was empty. There was nothing.
Shit.
“There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home,” I muttered and clicked my heels. Nope. Nothing.
Damn. I was stuck in a realm without the means to get home. Worse. I was stuck in a realm without the means to get home and with a horde of ugly wraiths who wanted to take my soul.
If I had a heart, it would be thrashing madly in my chest. Yes, I was afraid, but a part of me went berserk with anger.
“Come on, you bastards.”
I braced myself as the mass of wraiths came at me, rotten, skeletal fingers grabbing—
A blur of brilliant white light flashed before me.
Then another. Then another.
I stumbled back, staring in shock as thousands of small globes of white light attacked the wraiths like a swarm of giant wasps the size of tennis balls.
The white globes zipped and darted at the wraiths, moving like steel blades through the soul collectors and shearing through their bodies like cardboard. From all directions, in a whirling cloud of deadly fireflies, they struck hundreds of times in only a few seconds, black mist splashing into the air as the wraiths lost limbs and parts of their bodies.
I saw the sudden fear in the wraiths, their movements panicked and frenzied as they tried to beat the flying globes with their arms. But the globes were too fast, too strong, too many.
There was a collective shriek, and then all the wraiths exploded in a cloud of black mist. They were gone.
The brilliant globes hung in the air like giant-sized fireflies standing out against the dark green sky. I knew what they were. They were souls.
And they just saved my life.
A cloud of haze appeared in front of me. Within a heartbeat, the mist deepened. It shifted and then solidified, taking on the shape of a man.
“Gareth?” I choked.
CHAPTER 29
Gareth. My Gareth was standing before me.
I threw myself into his arms—passing right through him—stumbled and fell face-first on the ground.
I spat out some sand. “Not exactly the reunion I had imagined.” I rolled over and stared up at the handsome elf, only noticing then that his body still had a kind of haze effect over it. And if I stared long enough, I could see the shadows of shapes through him, like a ghost. “I can’t touch you. Can I?” I asked, though I already knew the answer as I got to my feet. I wanted so much to touch him, to kiss him, to wrap my arms around his large chest, and just lie there. But I knew I couldn’t. Major downer.
Gareth’s face was pained. “No, no you can’t,” he said, and I was glad his voice sounded the same.
I brushed some of the sand off my jeans. “This place is a trip. Isn’t it? With the upside-down trees, the flying fish, the blue sand.”
“You could say that.”
I glanced at the elf. “Are those wraiths dead?”
The elf shook his head. “No. They’ll be back.” His gaze moved over the rolling blue dunes, his expression shifting to a darker mood. “They always come back. And then there’s the other one…”
I moved my gaze over him. “You mean Derrigor.”
Gareth watched me. “You know his name?”
I looked at the hovering souls. “Courtesy of the angels,” I answered and glanced back at him. “Are you the only one who can… appear like this?”
Gareth met my stare. “No. But it takes lots of concentration and effort to maintain this body. It’s much easier just to stay as a soul. What I am now…” He frowned at what he saw on my face. “This is just a representation of my body. I’m not here in the physical sense.”
“Neither am I. But… why am I solid?” I stared at the necromancer blade I still held in my hand and slipped it back in its sheath against my waist.
“You’re not the same as us,” said the elf, and he gestured to the still-lingering souls. “You didn’t enter this realm the same way we did. Your soul wasn’t taken. You’re still alive, Rowyn. We’re not.”
“Don’t say that.” I frowned nervously. “All of you,” I said, looking up at the souls. “You’re not dead. Your bodies are very much alive.” I sighed, though no air came out. Weird. “But not for long.”
“What are you talking about?” Gareth’s face took on a hard edge, his posture stiff. “Rowyn. Why are you here?”
I knew he was mad, and I could tell by the deepening of his frown that he believed I did something very foolish. I pulled my face into a smile and said, “I’m here to save you, of course.” I spread out my arms and said, “Ta-da!”
At that, some of the souls dropped a few feet in the air. Either they were shocked, or they too thought I was the giant idiot. If they had faces, their features would look just like Gareth’s. I glared at them.
Gareth was silent. Fury seethed in him, anger and fear fueling his struggle to find the words. “That wasn’t smart,” snapped the elf. “Do you realize what you’ve done? How many times have I told you to think before you act? You’re too impulsive. You’ve always been.” He shook his head and began to pace. “Damn it, Rowyn. How could you do this?”
“And that’s the thanks I get for trying to help?” Now I was mad.
“How?” Was the only word that left out the angry elf’s mouth. Pity, it was such a pretty mouth.
“Astral projection,” I said, a little proud of myself. Then I blurted, “Stop doing that!” At that, the souls that dropped another foot. Some even fell to the ground in fake deaths. “Seriously?”
“Astral projection,” repeated Gareth. He didn’t exactly look impressed. “If your consciousness dies here—”
“Yes, yes, yes. I know.” I waved a dismissive hand. “I don’t intend to die here. That’s not part of the plan.”
Gareth raised a skeptical brow, and I hated how real he made it seem, even with his ghostly appearance. “Oh, really?”
I pressed my hands on my hips and matched his exact expression. “Yeah. Really. Look, we need to get out of here.”
“We can’t.” The elf ran a hand through his hair, the gesture causal and so genuine. “There’s no way out of here. Not for us. We’ve already searched every inch of this prison. It’s all we can do. But it’s pointless. We can never leave.”
“We can. We will.” I took a step closer to him. “And we have to go soon.”
Gareth’s lips pressed together, his jaw clenched. “Why?”
“The humans think the bodies without souls are a result of some deadly virus. They’re sending in the National Guard to eradicate the so-called infected.”
“So?”
My face went slack. “So?”
“There’s nothing you can do, Rowyn.” Gareth gave a short laugh. “It’s over. We are all just whispers of who we used to be.” His eyes turned intense. “I tried. I tried to fight him. But he surprised me. And by the time I knew what was happening… it was too late.”
It pained me to see him like this. I remembered what it felt like to have my soul almost taken from me. It wasn’t pretty. If Father Thomas hadn’t been there, I’d be just like Gareth and the lot of them.
Gareth went to grab my hand, and then realizing what he was doing, dropped his hand. “This is the end of the road for us, Rowyn.”
“No,” I started. “I know for a fact that’s not true. The angels told me as much.”
“The angels?”
“If I can get you out,” I looked to the souls again, the thousands of them. “All of you, then you—your souls—will reconnect with your bodies,” I told them, not knowing the proper terminology to use. Bond? Rewire? It didn’t matter. By the look on the elf’s face, I knew he understood.
Gareth was still frowning. “The angels told you this?”
“Yes.” Not exactly. It was more of a “maybe” than a certainty, but they didn’t have to know.
The elf turned to me, his eyes wide. “What about you? Can you project your spirit out of here?”
“Yeah,” I shifted my weight. “About that. Um… there seems to be a tiny ‘technical’ issue with the ride back home.”
“Rowyn?” Gareth’s worried expression had my knees weakening. I loved that damn pointy-eared bastard.
“Not to worry. I’m not planning on staying either.” If only I could figure out how to get out of this place, we were golden.
“What if you can’t? What if you’re going to die here like the rest of us? Or worse, he’ll just keep you here. That’s why he gave you a solid body. To inflict pain.”
“You mean Derrigor? I don’t care about him right now. I care about getting us out.” I looked to the hovering souls. “All of us.”
The elf crossed his arms over his chest. “How? There’s no door or windows. This isn’t your typical prison.”
“I get that. So, we… have to think outside the box. Yes, I know how that sounded, but I’m telling you… if there’s a way in… there’s a way out.” There had to be. “We just need to find it.”
Gareth smiled. “If I could kiss you, I would.”
“I know.” I smiled back. “I’m just so damn kissable.” One of the hovering souls made a whirl and I swear if it had eyes, it was rolling them right about now. Somehow, I knew it was a woman’s soul.
I pointed a finger at the soul. “You. Shove it. You’re going to thank me later.”
With my hands on my hips, I spun around, my mind working out a plan of escape. “Okay, you said you’ve been over this entire place. Right?”
“Right.”
“What stood out to you?” I asked my eyes fixed on the fake rock formation in the distance. “What didn’t seem normal?”
Gareth made a face. “Have you looked around?”
“I get the weird aspect. Think extra-weird.”
“Apart from it being a glass box prison?” The elf shrugged. “Not much.”
It was my turn to roll my eyes. “No. I mean. If this,” I spread my arms, “is your new normal. What doesn’t fit.” I looked to the souls. “Anyone?”
The soul I believed had rolled her eyes at me drifted forward. And the next thing I knew, she was standing in front of me, as a woman. Told ya.
“The sky is green,” began the woman, whose red curly hair was pulled back in a long ponytail. She looked to be in her early thirties. She was a few inches shorter than me, fit and wore skinny jeans with a white blouse. “And have you seen the trees? I’m not even sure you can call them trees. If that’s not extra-weird, I don’t know what is. I’m Marla, by the way.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Marla.” I looked between her and Gareth. For a human, she was taking this whole soul thing really well. Maybe she had no choice.
“Okay. What else?”
Marla gave an exaggerated shrug. “There’s those creepy hooded monsters. And then there’s the big one.”
“Derrigor,” I answered for her. “What else?”
“There’s nothing else here,” said Marla, her features twisting in anger. “It’s just us, and all that blue sand. There’s no door or portal or anything. We’ve already checked. We’re stuck here forever.” Her voice cracked. “I want to go home to my kids. But I can’t. Because no matter how many times I’ve tried, I can’t break through those glass walls.”
My jaw dropped. “That’s it.” I pumped the air with my fist, feeling like a fool that I’d actually done it for real, and the gesture didn’t stay in my head.
