Soul Trade (27 page)

Margaret just blinked, looking at her hands. “I feel weird,” she said, sticking
herself to Jack like a burr. “I just want to go back to Manchester.”

Morwenna dropped to her knees in the mud. Pete watched tears streak down her crimson face as sobs racked her body. “I’ve given my whole life,” she said. “I’ve given everything. Everything I had and more. Don’t I deserve something? Anything?”

Pete managed to pull herself into a sitting position, which hurt but wasn’t impossible.
She tried standing and found that wasn’t bad, either.

“Donovan,” Morwenna pleaded, grabbing at Donovan’s hand. “You stood with me when everyone thought I was insane to try to become the new Merlin. You know it can’t be this … this …
brat
!”

Donovan looked at Morwenna, then at Margaret, and gave a shrug. “Sorry, luv,” he said. “Tough break.”

Morwenna leaped at his back faster than seemed possible
for a sobbing woman in a tight skirt, and Pete shouted. “Donovan, look out!”

Morwenna grabbed for the gun in Donovan’s waistband, but he knocked her back into the mud. Morwenna raised her hand and started to speak a word of power, but Donovan whistled, sharp and high, before she could get it out.

Pete saw the shapes advance through the fog, cutting it like sharks in water, and she ran to Jack,
pulling both him and Margaret into a crouch and covering the girl’s eyes.

Only she had the vantage to see what happened.

The wraiths flew at Morwenna, drawn by the energy Pete could feel crackling across her skin and pulsing through her blood. Donovan’s talent was in full force, and the wraiths found easy prey as Morwenna struggled to get up from the mud. She barely made a sound, could only
moan and quiver a bit as the wraiths drank her dry.

Victor and the other mages watched dispassionately, not blinking, Victor’s expression a flat slate of nothing.

“We can go,” Pete said, releasing her hold on Jack and Margaret. It was hard to let go of Jack, but she made herself do it. “The well’s closed. It shouldn’t be affecting our senses any longer.”

“No,” Jack said, harsh as the sound
Morwenna had made. “We’re making sure she’s dead.”

They watched as the wraiths drank, then drifted away, sated, at Donovan’s bidding. Pete tugged on Jack. “We really need to go.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Donovan intoned. “The Merlin comes with us.” He stuck out his arm to Margaret. “Come, child.”

Margaret stepped back, shaking her head wildly. “Get away from me. I don’t know you.”

“Either
we take the Merlin, or I leave your bodies for the ravens,” Donovan snarled. “Those are your options.”

He fixed Jack with a look of utter contempt. “I had hoped you’d take up your seat, boy, but now I’m almost glad I’ll be disposing of you. You’re nothing but a disappointment, Jack, in every way possible.”

Jack started to reply, but Pete all at once knew she’d had enough of Donovan Winter. Enough
to last her a lifetime, and then some.

She set herself and hit him, in the soft spot just under his cheek. Donovan’s head snapped around as the sound of the punch echoed back from the hillside.

Donovan dropped, mud splashing all over him, bruise already in full bloom. “You’ve seen what I can do,” Pete told him, keeping her eyes on the rest of the Prometheans. “You lot so much as send a stray
thought my way again and you know what’ll happen. I can light every last one of you ablaze with a finger snap, so I suggest you use those few brain cells you have, Donovan, and stay out of our lives from now on.”

She glared around at the rest of the staring faces. “Anybody else got a problem with leaving the Weir to her business?”

Nobody did.

She took Margaret’s hand and started to walk away,
but Jack stopped.

“Oh, and Dad,” he said, as Donovan struggled to get to his feet. “You can slag me off all you want, but as far as disappointing you goes…” He grinned at Donovan, and it was the Jack grin Pete knew, not the pale imitation his father used. “I can’t remember when I’ve been more fucking proud of meself. You ever come near me family again, I’ll fucking kill you.”

He turned his back
and said to Pete, “Let’s go, luv. I’ve had me fill of the country.”

“That makes two of us,” Pete grumbled. “I’ve got so much mud on me, I may never leave greater London again.”

As they descended the hill and found one of the Prometheans’ parked cars to take, Pete realized she could see again. The fog had lifted from Overton. The black cairn marking the soul well was knocked over, and the tree
had withered down to a twisted stump.

The sky was clear.

The ravens had gone.

28.

It was a simple enough matter to convince the care workers in Manchester to let Pete take custody of Margaret, at least temporarily. The Smythes didn’t have any relatives, and Pete was a responsible sort who actually
wanted
to take control of a belligerent thirteen-year-old. The care worker practically threw the paperwork at her with a bow on it.

When they were on the train back to London,
Margaret dozing, Pete put her head on Jack’s shoulder and finally let her eyes close. “How are you?” she asked softly.

He sucked in a breath, and then she felt his arm slide around her, fingers squeezing hard enough to leave a mark. “How d’you think I am?”

“Feeling like shite, probably,” Pete murmured. “Same as me.”

“Too right,” Jack sighed. “This was a Hell of a week, Petunia, I won’t lie.
’M as bloody and battered as I ever have been.”

“I’m sorry I lied to you,” Pete said, so softly she didn’t know if Jack heard her over the roar of the train.

He was quiet for a moment, and then she felt his chest expand with a sigh. “If you’d told me you were planning to channel the soul well, I’d’ve done something boneheaded to stop you.”

“You had to know I wouldn’t just lie down for someone
like Morwenna,” Pete said.

“Yeah,” Jack agreed. “But you did right not telling me, and I can admit that.”

“I hated it,” Pete confessed, feeling a hot prickle in her eyes and willing them to stay dry. “The thought of never seeing you or Lily again. But I hated the thought of us living in a place like that more.”

“I think about it sometimes,” Jack said. “One or the other of us not making it.
I’m not like you, Pete. I can’t even consider it.”

Pete found his hand and squeezed it. Jack wasn’t one to rush in on a white horse. She’d made peace with that long ago, and it was fine. She could be the hero, and he could be the rock. It’d be a nice change for once. “You would. If it was me or Lily. You have. You’re the bravest man I know, Jack Winter, and that’ll never change.”

“You think
that’s it?” Jack said. “That the Prometheans’ll listen and stay away?”

“I don’t know,” Pete said, not wanting to voice what she did know. She’d merely hit pause on what was coming, not ended it. The Morrigan was more intent than ever on having Jack for her own. The Black was irreparably broken, and the appearance of the soul well was only the first major crack in the walls between worlds.

“I
don’t even bloody care at this point.” Jack put his arm around her, holding her to him. “I’m sorry,” he said. “About Donovan and all of that. You think you don’t give a fuck about those people, and then they show up and they slice you right to the fucking core, like you were six years old again. To think for a few seconds there I actually considered forgiving that cunt…”

Pete stopped him, shaking
her head. “Jack, your parents were horrid, awful, selfish people, and Donovan made the choice to mess with black magic and try to grab a little more power rather than do right by his son,” she said. “Don’t fucking apologize for him.”

He laughed, rough and regretful. “We’ll do better. Especially now that it seems we’ve got two.”

“We will,” Pete agreed. “I mean, how hard could it possibly be to
do better than my crazy mum and your homicidal dad?”

Jack kissed the top of her head. “You always know exactly what to say to a bloke.”

“It’s my superpower,” Pete said. She nestled into Jack’s chest again. “It all worked out,” she said. “I mean, as well as it ever does for us.”

Jack stared out the train window, and Pete followed his gaze. The sky was gray and peaceful, as if the world held
its breath, above the spires and down into the deepest core of the earth, where the dead lay silent.

A deception, but one she could let Jack live with, at least until the end of the train line.

He drifted off after a time, leaving Pete alone with the memories of what she’d seen on the hill, under the black cairn.

I’ll have him in the end,
the Morrigan whispered in her ear, and Pete knew, deep
down in the place where she knew things beyond thought or reason, and discerned the veracity in the old gods’ words with her talent, that the Hag spoke the truth.

And that she was going to have to figure out how to prove the Morrigan wrong.

Epilogue

That is not dead which can eternal lie,

And with strange aeons even death may die

—
H. P. Lovecraft

29.

Victoria Station was the most welcome sight Pete had ever set eyes on. Full of people and movement, just normal people going about their day, the place was unbelieveably soothing. She had missed the crowds of her city, and the ebb and flow of the Black that, while not comfortable, was at least familiar.

Jack was phoning Lawrence to meet them with Lily when Pete became aware of another
presence, like a shadow falling across her face.

“Save the day again, did you?” Belial said. “You’re getting to be a proper little superhero, Petunia.”

Jack started as he saw the demon standing between them all at once, his slim form slotting neatly into the space. “Fuck,” he said. “I hate it when you do that.”

“Leave,” Pete said. “I told you we were done talking.”

“Oh, what we talked about
holds truer than ever,” said Belial. “But lovely as you are, Petunia, I never did get to the point of my little visit in Overton. That bit concerns your knight in shining hair bleach.”

“You two talked? In Overton?” Jack’s eyes narrowed, and Pete couldn’t tell if he was angrier with Belial or her.

“I was going to tell you,” she said. “But it did kick off just a bit right after I saw him.” She
just thanked her lucky stars that Margaret was getting food at one of the cafes that lined the main concourse, and she didn’t have to see Belial in the flesh. No child needed that in their nightmares.

Jack shot Belial the bird. “Fuck off,” he said, with only a hint of annoyance. Belial was terrifying, but he was also oddly irritating when he was right there, in your face, talking his usual line
of shit. Pete empathized with Jack’s urge to swat the demon off him like a chatty house fly.

“Aren’t you even interested to hear what would bring me up from the comforts of Hell to speak with you? Because let’s face it, Jack, you’re not a font of witty conversation on your best day.”

“No,” Jack grumbled, shutting his eyes again. “Or, fuck off.”

Belial tsked and turned his gaze on Pete. “How
about you, luv? You’re interested, aren’t you? You know that I know what I’m talking about.”

“If we listen, will you leave us alone?” Pete sighed. Belial cracked his knuckles and grinned at them.

“So it turns out being a Prince of Hell isn’t all torturing underlings with pliers and massages from nubile succubi,” said Belial. “Turns out, there’s a bit of a scuffle down in the Pit at the moment.”

“What a shock,” Jack grumbled. “Treacherous cunts turning on one another. Amazing turn of events.”

“Why should we care if somebody is marching with placards against you?” Pete asked Belial.

“Because this particular treacherous cunt doesn’t just have his eye on Hell,” Belial said. “Ambitious little fucker wants the whole pie.”

“Like any one demon could rule the Black,” Jack muttered. “Most of
you can’t even manage to get off your arses and leave Hell.”

“Not the Black,” Belial said, and for the first time his voice was a cold blade against Pete’s neck that sent an involuntary shudder through her. “The whole world. Daylight, dead side, probably even the in-between. All of it.” He stood and straightened his tie. “I’m not about to let him upset my apple cart. And having the crow-mage
on my side would ensure that.”

Jack snorted a laugh. “Yeah, me work with you voluntarily? What’d be in it for me?”

Pete saw the irritation flick across Belial’s face, a weirdly human expression that made her slightly sick to her stomach. “You may not care beyond your next pint and wank,” said Belial. “But you’re going to have to live in the aftermath.”

“Same question,” Jack said. “I don’t owe
you shite, mate. Quite the other way around, after I did you that favor with Abbadon.”

“You know what’s coming,” said Belial, and Pete felt the Black vibrate all around them, saw shadows quake at the corner of her vision as the demon’s power washed over her. “You both know. The end, Jack. The full stop, the period at the end of the sentence. The Morrigan will march across the burnt face of the
world, and you’ll be the dead man riding at the head of her army. It’s inevitable, and you’ve always known it.”

“Fuck off,” Jack said, but his voice was barely a whisper. Pete wrapped her arms around herself as Belial’s shadow lengthened and the temperature dropped.

“I can offer you a way out,” Belial said. “You help me, I’ll help you get out from under the Hag’s claws.”

“You think we’re stupid?”
Pete blurted. “If you really knew how to help Jack out with the Morrigan why didn’t you dangle it before?”

Belial shrugged. “I never needed you before, Petunia. Was you lot who needed me.” He worried his ruby cufflinks with his black claws. “It’s a good bargain, crow-mage. It’s one of the best bargains I’ve ever made, and I’ve been making them a very long time.”

“So,” Jack said slowly. He’d
sat up, and his crystal eyes were fixed on the demon’s obsidian ones. “Let me get this straight. I go to Hell, I help you put a boot up this demon’s arse, and you help me get the Morrigan off my back once and for all?”