Lost Soul (DarkWorld: SkinWalker Book 2) (15 page)

"I got the portal key by the way." I dropped the bomb nonchalantly.

Grams' gaze shot up from her sandwich, which she was already having trouble eating. "You saw Kira?"

I nodded. "What's the deal with that woman? She
's one cold-hearted b—"

"Kai," Grams admonished.

"Grams," I whined. "I'm old enough to swear. I'm eighteen, soon to be nineteen, for Ailuros' sake."

"I don't care. Don't let me catch you swearing in front of me, young lady."

I just shook my head. She was impossible. "So you get any more information for me on the prophecy?"

"Still working on it."

"Well, I have the portal key, and as soon as I get my weapons sorted—which should be confirmed today—I'll be leaving. Could be as soon as tomorrow if we're lucky."

Grams glared at her sandwich, still half eaten. "Things are moving along quite fast." What she meant was things were moving too fast for her.

"The faster the better, don't you think? You wouldn't want Greer to be lounging around in that death trap for too long. Nerina mentioned a darkness taking her over so I think we do need to get a move on and get her out of there."

"I understand, Kai. I'm just worried you won't be ready for what you see there."

"Can anyone really be ready for the Greylands? From what I hear it's not exactly Miami Beach in the summertime."

"You are right of course. I'm just—" She stopped speaking.

"Worried. I know. And I can't stop you from worrying. I'm worried too, but we just have to deal with one thing at a time." Then I remembered. "And I have to ask you something about Mom's power."

"Go for it." She tackled the sandwich with renewed vigor.

"Did Mom ever mention the gold glow she got when fighting a demon?"

Grams nodded. "Yes. It's the mark of the Hunter. The ability to kill a demon with one's bare hands."

"Does that mean any demon?" This could help me for sure.

"Yes. Any demon," Grams answered around her mouthful.

"Good. Okay. So what about the glow? Did Mom have a way of practicing with it? Dad said she didn't, but I wanted to see if you knew something he didn't since you've been in contact with her all these years."

Grams glanced at me, but there was no judgment or accusation in either my words or my tone and she relaxed her tense shoulders. She shook her head. "No. Your dad was right. Celeste could never practice that ability. I do know that she would deliberately not use her weapons sometimes so she could practice the power in a fight. She only ever did that when she knew her weapons were handy or if she knew she had backup."

I stared off into space for a moment, thinking again about the Wraith pimp. "I guess I'll have to do the same the next time I come face-to-face with a demon."

"Would it make a difference if I suggested you stay away from demons for a while?" she asked hopefully.

"Nope." Then I remembered I'd told Logan about the Wraith. "I think you need to know something. I killed a Wraith the night before last." She looked shocked and about to reproach me but I rattled on. "They seem more planned, more business-oriented. Their focus seems to have changed."

That got her attention. "That's unusual."

"You could say that again." I glanced at her face. "And there is one more thing. The one I killed, he was interested in sex. Isn't that something that never happens?"

"Where did you find this one?"

"Downtown red-light district. He took a pimp's body. And he was running the show."

"Maybe he got a taste for it from the girls working for him?"

"Maybe. I just don't like it at all." I paused. "And he seemed stronger than the others. Maybe Niko really did help them to use their human suits better while still retaining their strength from their true form."

"I bloody well hope not."

I cringed. It was so easy to forget that Uncle Niko was Gram's son. Too easy. "I'm sorry, Grams."

"Nothing to be sorry about, dear. Niko was . . ." She sighed, sadness coming off her in waves as she stared off into nothing. "I miss my boy, no doubt about it. But I've been missing him for a long, long time. He chose his path. Yes, he had a problem. Nobody wants to be Pariah, but he made so many wrong choices. I only hope that now he has achieved a state of peace for himself… So let me know when you're ready to leave for the Greylands." Grams looked away. Neither of us wanted to mention the more likely possibility of Niko enjoying the hospitality of a hell he more than truly deserved.

***

I headed to see Tara as soon as Grams left. She was worried but there wasn't anything I could do about that. Everyone was worried about me. I didn't need the pressure of their concern.

I turned onto Tara's street to see a couple exiting a pawn shop. They didn't look like they belonged in this part of town. I almost passed them, but then the woman hissed. I glanced at the pair. He held tightly onto her wrist. Too tightly.

Maybe I would have left them be. Domestic quarrels were not my business. Not unless it involved a demon. And the coral trails around the woman's wrist, along her arm, and around her neck were enough for me.

I watched him tug her toward a waiting Bentley and fling the door open. The driver stared ahead, his eyes flitting back and forth across the street. He wasn't immune to the woman's abuse, but he was powerless.

The man waited until the woman slid inside, then got in and shut the door. The driver took off and I didn't spend a moment thinking about it. I followed, watching the streets, watching the car, speeding through the city until the concrete landscape faded into upper-class domestic bliss.

Double stories, large gardens, great big oaks and winding driveways. I hung back beneath the widespread branches of a tree as the car turned into one of the properties with large, oak front doors, entryways covered in peach tendrils.

The couple entered while the driver parked and went around the house. Servants' entrance? I followed him, hanging back among the bushes. I let my panther hearing and smell loose, allowing my senses to travel through the house in search of the couple.

Words filtered back to me. Heated words.

"Do not think you can leave me." The husband growled. "Not now. Not ever."

The woman said nothing.

"Did you really think you could run without me knowing, without me catching you?"

"You don't want me anymore." She hiccupped. "What's happened to you, James? You just want the money." The woman's tone changed, pleading. "If that's what you want, take it. I don't need the money. Just let me go."

"And how will it look to my constituents when my wife leaves me?"

Constituents? The man was a politician. And the Wraiths were upping their game. Lucrative and influential positions. That's what they were looking for now. There was a greater scheme at work here. But I didn't plan on allowing them more of a foothold than they already had.

I listened but the conversation seemed over. I had a sense of the room they were in and hurried around the house to find the window. Fortunately, I quickly found a downstairs room with an easy-to-jimmy sliding window. I slipped inside, closing it behind me.

The woman sat at a small love seat against a far wall. She held a letter opener in hand, the dull light of the room reflecting off the deceivingly blunt edge. I moved toward the door, hoping she'd pay more attention to her thoughts of suicide but she glanced up and her eyes widened when she saw me.

I put a finger to my lips and prayed she would remain silent. She stared at me, an uncaring, uninterested expression on her face. Yet she spoke automatically. "What do you want?"

"I'm here to kill him. Stay out of the way and you'll be fine."

The woman laughed. "You can't kill him. I tried." A look of fear filled her face. When she spoke again, her words were a desperate whisper. "I tried."

"You tried to kill him?" I asked, more to keep her occupied as I withdrew both my gun and daggers, slipping each into a boot. Then I drew the bow and checked the cartridges
.

"Yes. I stabbed him. But he just pulled the knife out and hit me. He didn't even bleed." Her eyes fell on my bow and widened for a second as if she could see the possibility. "Will that work?"

"This one will. Not an ordinary bow." I kept my voice low.

"What's wrong with him?" She asked the question and I glanced at her. What was wrong with her? But I was unfair. Did I really expect her to be stronger? She'd said she had tried to kill him. She had acted. But she had no idea what she was dealing with.

"Don't worry about it. I'll deal with him." She nodded. "Where is he now?"

"In the study two doors down on the left. I'm going upstairs to my room."

"Stay there until the police come."

She nodded on her way out, then turned back to look at me. "Who are you?"

"It's best you know as little about me as possible. For your own good. Just know I'll deal with him." She gave me one last hopeful, yet hopeless look and left the room. I watched her climb the curved staircase, waiting only until she disappeared down the upstairs hall.

I sensed he was alone. His breathing was low, shallow and calm. I gave the driver a moment's thought and hoped he wouldn't try to intervene. I'd be forced to shoot him with Wraith ammo. Not something I wanted to do as it meant leaving the traces of poison on his body.

Moving down the passage, I walked along the opposite wall, bow at the ready, watching the doorway as the Wraith slowly came into view. I ducked back before he could see me. I moved again to get him within my sights but he was gone.

Where had he gone? I dialed up my hearing. He was still in the room. Was walking across the carpet to look out the window. I got him in my sights. Aiming for the middle of his back, I pulled the trigger.

It hit him square in the back. The bullets were packed tight with microscopic needles filled with a lethal poison. The vial was designed to split on impact and enter the body in a fine spray.

He slumped forward with a grunt, holding on to the window pane. He left a coral handprint on the clear glass. Then he turned, still strong, as if unaffected by the bullet and the poison it contained.

He reached for a chair back and I gave silent thanks. The poison was working, but only enough to weaken him. I still had the problem of killing him. He hadn't yet noticed me in the shadows of the passage.

He hobbled to toward the door, his eyes widening as he finally saw me. I stepped into the room, crossbow held to my cheek at the ready. His eyes widened, hand going inside his jacket, the butt of a gun revealing itself slowly.

I didn't give him the satisfaction. Just pulled the trigger again. This time he fell, lying on the carpet, staring at me, disbelief written all over his face. "You have ruined it all."

"No need to thank me."

"You don't know what you've done." He struggled to sit up and managed to rise, supporting his body with one hand. "You will pay. This is not over."

"Maybe not, but it's over for you."

I grabbed the gun from him and threw the weapon away. It went skittering under the enormous mahogany desk. He lifted his hand, groping for my neck. But he was weak, the poison doing its job.

This was my opportunity. I had to try. I glanced at the door again just in case, but the coast was still clear. I placed my hand on his chest and concentrated. I tried to channel the fear I'd felt when Todd's Wraith/Father had held my neck in his grip and almost squeezed the life right out of me.

My heartbeat sped up, my breath increasing to a shuddering. My fingers warmed and a soft glow grew around each digit as I held it against his chest. He shivered, then gurgled as if he wanted to scream but couldn't get the sound out. The glow strengthened, grew brighter around my hand until heat began to spread from my palm.

I was so focused on the heat I almost didn't see the effect it had on the Wraith. I flinched. The skin of the human began to shrivel, little slashes opening in the flesh all over his body. Scraps of shadow escaped from the slits, disconnected parts of the Wraith discarding the host. The body sank inward like a slowly deflating balloon and I shuddered. No matter how many times I saw it, I still hated what the Wraiths did to the bodies they took.

The shadows sped from the body and I could hear a soft but high-pitched screaming as if the shadows were furious at having to be banished again. The pressure changed and the air shimmered. The hundreds of circling shadows began to disappear into what looked like little cracks in the thin air.

And then they were all gone. The pressure subsided and I got to my feet. The shriveled, desiccated corpse of the man remained on the floor. I hefted my bow and left the house, quick and silent.

The woman would do what she had to. Say what she had to.

I'd bet she would just be happy to be free of the Wraith.

***

I headed back to Tara's adding one more thing to the list of strange when it came to recent Wraith activity. Politics. Influential positions. That made my gut twist. Could it get any worse? What were they planning? It all seemed too strategic to be random possessions.