“I won’t let it have you.” Though how the hell was I going to stop it? Inside a body it was beyond my reach.
Usually, at least. But I had a direct link to Death. He carried my life.
I dropped to my knees beside Death, my hand still in his, giving me an extra link to him as I opened my mind, sensing the connection between us.
“No,” he said in a strained whisper. “Run. I can’t fight it.”
I didn’t care. The rider was not going to use and discard Death.
I felt the darkness filling his body, but it was my life force it attached itself to. I tried to reach for that darkness.
I wasn’t fast enough.
Death’s head shot up, his hazel eyes turning oily black. The thing inside him smiled, the expression a defilement to Death’s features.
“Hello, Craft. Look at us holding hands. Was this body important to you?” it asked as I jerked away.
A wave of dread and sickness washed over me, my blood turning thick with it. This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t. “Why are you doing this?”
“Why? You’re a grave witch, so you’ve seen my world. That desolate place where thirst is never quenched, where everything is dry dust. Dead. Decayed. So unlike your living world. This realm of decadence is marvelous.” He spread Death’s arms, as if embracing the world.
My disgust with the creature redoubled. It had killed how many people, had created how many ghouls, because it wanted to indulge in the living world? Well, Death wouldn’t be the next victim to its hedonism. I wouldn’t let it have him.
I was still trying to figure out how to reach the rider, to draw it out of Death. Which meant I had to keep it talking. “That’s a crappy reason to kill people.”
The thing snapped Death’s gaze toward me, eyes dark. “Mortals die, but if you are so distressed, let me free you from your pain.”
Death’s hand shot out, crashing into my chest. Literally. His hand broke flesh and snapped bones. It wasn’t fear that tightened around my heart, but Death’s fingers.
The rider in Death’s body jerked his hand, and my heart, free of my chest. Pain radiated through me, too much for my body and brain to process. I collapsed.
“Good-bye, Craft.” The rider made Death’s harmonic voice sound rough, hard. He dropped my heart in the grass beside me.
I stared at him. Not breathing. Not blinking. Waiting to die. Except I didn’t. My body didn’t even have the decency to lose consciousness.
Not that the rider noticed.
“This body,” he said, stepping over me and holding up his hands, letting my blood drip down his arm. “How very different. I shall enjoy it.”
The rider in Death’s body walked away. I watched, unable to stop him. As I lost sight of Death in the growing crowd, my anger warred with crippling despair.
Anger won. The fury consuming me left no room for physical pain. I had to do something. Death was vulnerable only because he’d become mortal to save me. I couldn’t let the rider have him.
With effort, I pushed away from the grass. People stared. Too many people. Too many witnesses. Not that I could do anything about them. But I had to get out of the area before the first responders arrived.
Moving was slow at first. Even with a nearly impervious body, it took time to figure out how to function without a heart. Precious time because every second Death’s body traveled farther away. I couldn’t see him, but I felt the growing distance from my life force.
I had no idea how long I’d lain near the dead man. It felt like hours but couldn’t have been more than minutes. I did know one thing: the rider was gone, taking Death’s body with him, and I had to find them. I had to eject the rider from Death. I even had an idea how—return Death’s essence. No body left nothing for the rider to inhabit.
But first I needed to see a man about a heart and a soul.
Chapter 39
I felt like the tin man, off to see the wizard. Except I already had a heart. It was in my purse. The saddest thing about the whole situation? I had my heart in a Ziploc bag and that wasn’t the worst part of my day.
I’ll find him. But despite the fact I didn’t currently have a heart, I ached as if I did.
It was early afternoon, so I wasn’t sure the club where Death and I had found the raver would be open yet, but I lucked out. I had to pay the cover this time to get inside—no convenient teleporting for me—but it was open. The club was quieter this early in the day, so it wasn’t hard to find the raver in the thin crowd. Or for her to spot me.
“Oh, I’m clearly going to have to find a new place to party,” she said, shaking her head and making her dreads quiver.
“I’m pretty sure this is the only techno club in the city.”
“So how about we say it’s off limits to you,” she said, her long fingernails making dull thud sounds as she tapped her bright PVC pants. Then she looked at me, really looked at me. “You don’t look so hot, chick. What did you get into now?” She paused. “And why are you alone?”
“I got my heart ripped out.”
“And he left you with his essence in you. Why—” She stopped. “Fuck, you’re being literal.”
“I’m guessing the mender will need it to fix me?” I held up the bag with the aforementioned organ.
The raver glanced at the plastic bag, her eyes rounding. “You are one weird chick. Well, come on, then.”
A reassuring thump knocked in my chest as my flesh stopped rippling. The mender dropped his hand.
“You get into even worse trouble than I’d been warned,” he said as my heart pounded out another beat and fell into a regular rhythm.
“I assure you, this was a first for me.”
“Good to know. I have collectors who’ve been with me for decades and haven’t received as much mending as you have in two days.” He made a motion as if dusting off his hands. “I expect you not to make this a habit.”
That wasn’t going to be a problem. I doubt I’ll be returning.
“Really, and why is that?”
Crap, I forgot he was telepathic. Well, now or never. “The last time I was here you gave me a message for”—I hesitated before referring to Death the way he and the raver did—“him.”
The mender nodded again, waiting for me to continue.
“Well, he’s not in a position to make a choice. I’m going to be forced to return his essence to save him.”
“That is good. I value him as a collector. He has compassion for his souls but aside from recent transgressions, still does his job efficiently. That is not always the case.”
I shook my head. “That’s not where I’m going with this. The options you gave him, I need your word they are negated since he cannot make a choice.”
“Child, he already made his decision. He could have exchanged your life essences the moment he got my message. By not doing so, he made the choice that left him vulnerable to his current predicament.”
I shook my head again, and the look the mender gave me was one an elder might give a young child: sympathetic, but unwavering in resolve.
“No, I refuse to accept that to save his life I condemn his soul. I want another option.”
“He knew the dangers when he made his choice.”
My fists clenched at my sides. The mender’s glance flickered to them, and I forced my fingers straight. “No. I can’t accept that.”
“Which is also a choice.”
He said it so calmly, so assured in his position—I’d never wanted to hit someone so bad in my life. I was pretty sure this guy could give my father a run for his money.
“I can’t make the decision to trap his soul for all eternity.”
“Then you decide to let him die, and when he does, you likely will as well.”
“Are you trying to frighten me?” Even as I asked I knew he was only stating the facts as he saw them. “Fine. You said you value him as a collector. Wouldn’t you rather have him back than dead?”
His eyes softened as his face turned to that of an elder’s again, his features full of sympathy. “Child, in all likelihood, you will not survive the trial ahead of you and he will choose to follow you before I have an opportunity to stop him. It is why they dislike you, you know. It isn’t due to our laws—or because of the secrets he’s revealed to you—that they resent you. No, don’t think to deny it. I know what he has done and said.” He took my hand and patted it gently. “They dislike you because they fear losing him when your time comes, as others who have loved mortals have done before. There used to be four in their little group, you know.”
I guessed by “they” he meant the gray man and the raver. I glanced over my shoulder at the latter, who stood by herself on the other side of the garden, scowling at me.
I shook my head. We were getting sidetracked.
“You said likelihood, which means even if you see the possibilities, you don’t know the definite outcome. I may not die. Or if I do, he may not follow.”
“You seem very calm about the possibility of your own death. That is rare in a mortal.”
What was I supposed to say to that? It wasn’t like I wanted to die. The idea scared the hell out of me. But I’d learned a long time ago that everything dies.
The mender nodded as if I’d said the thought aloud. Then we both stood there in silence for a moment, until he asked, “What is it you want from me? In the event either or both of you survive, I cannot allow you to continue to switch life essences.”
“I understand that. All I’m asking for is your oath that when he’s ready to move on, you free his soul.”
“All you want is my oath?” The way he said it made it clear I’d insulted him.
“I meant no offense.”
He laughed, catching me off guard. “You became very fae rather quickly.”
Because I didn’t apologize?
“There is that. And, yes, eventually you’ll remember I’m telepathic but it won’t help you not to think.” He smiled, any insult either forgiven or forgotten. “But you also see the world differently now, don’t you? As a fae your word is your oath, but a human’s words are as fickle as a breeze without a sworn oath. You have no idea what I am or the value of my words.”