Date: 2017-09-28 07:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Vampires; Horror; Urban Fantasy
Description: The gripping conclusion of the Unturned series is here! On the heels of a brutal loss, Detroit sorcerer Sebastian Light has one, all consuming goal—the complete obliteration of the black witch coven, the Maidens of Shadow. He does not care how much dark power they yield. He does not care what horrors he may face. And he does not care that his reckless use of his own magic might destroy him. But the Maidens aren’t the only evil in the Motor City. The Detroit Ministry has suffered a coup, and its new leader threatens to dismantle the political system that maintains balance between the city’s nat
Publisher: Draft2Digital

CONSUMED

Unturned: Book Five

Rob Cornell

Table of Contents

Title Page

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Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Books by Rob Cornell

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Copyright

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For the Flumignans, both here and gone.

Chapter One

I called on the wind and blew the glass out of the restaurant's front door, leaving nothing but its metal frame.

It was midnight in March. The temp during the day had topped out at sixty-five. Now, it was about mid-fifties, the cool air a little damp from a lingering fog. I had on a short-sleeve t-shirt, but had thrown on a leather duster—a new style I was trying out, popular with some wizards, I guess. It felt a little too heavy for my tastes. I'd probably trade it in for one without so much tail.

The restaurant was supposed to be a Polish joint, but it had a gold-colored awning that looked kind of like a pagoda. I crossed under the awning and stepped through the door frame. My boots crunched on the shattered glass on the floor inside. A small vestibule with a coat rack blocked the rest of the restaurant from view, but I could hear panicked chatter around the corner. When I stepped out from the vestibule, I found a trio of men standing by a round table toward the back, their chairs scooted away haphazardly as if they had popped to their feet in a hurry.

The room smelled of pierogies and mashed potatoes. While the restaurant had closed at ten, some of the pots in the long buffet along the right side still steamed.

I grinned and nodded at the bottle of vodka on the table. “Hey, guys. You save some for me?”

Two of the guys wore ties and didn't have much weight to them. If I had to go hand-to-hand with them, I doubted I'd have a problem. Not that sorcerers like myself had to go hand-to-hand with anybody. Not the good ones anyway.

The third guy had a wide chest and a matching pair of shoulders. He wore a blue blazer with a red shirt stretched tightly against his barrel of a belly. He had wide nostrils, and if he put a ring through his nose, I could have mistaken him for a bull.

Toro.

The Bull drew a chrome-plated handgun from under his jacket and sighted it on me. “Who the fuck are you?”

I stared him down, not a worry in the world. “You weren't expecting me?”

The skinny guys exchanged a glance. One of them whispered, “It's the vampire guy.”

I scrunched up my face. “I'm not the vampire guy. Jesus, you civilians don't understand a thing about our world, do you? I'm the Unturned.” I tried to make it sound ominous. Otherwise, no way would I have referred to myself by that dumb name. So I had vampire blood in my system, and it hadn't made me go vamp because of a magical brand on my shoulder. So what?

But the moniker, and a boat load of bullshit rumors about what it meant, had spread through Detroit. I figured I had a right to use it if I needed to.

Sure enough, even the Bull's eyes took on an unfocused glaze, as if the mere mention of the Unturned had paralyzed his mind.

I could only imagine what they had heard about me.

“Good. So you know who I am. Which means you probably know why I'm here.”

The skinny guys threw each other another look, then they drew their own guns.

“We're loaded with silver,” the skinny guy on the right said.

It took every effort not to roll my eyes. I was going for badass at the moment, not annoyed teenager. Though that shtick had its place.

“You really want to put those guns away,” I said. “We can talk like civilized adults. I'd really hate to have to kill you.”

The Bull snorted. How appropriate. “You might be vampire,” he said with a thick Polish accent, “but you're not invincible.”

I gave him a flat stare. “I am not a vampire.”

He curled his finger around the trigger.

“You shoot,” I said, “you die.”

The dumb bastard shot.

I called on the wind, this time hardening it to form a shield in front of me. His shot pinged off the invisible barrier with a spark. I, of course, stood tall, looking disgusted, as if he'd tried to spit on me instead of kill me.

“You're going to have to do better than that.”

Alas, these were the kinds of guys who thought guns could solve everything from home invaders to world hunger. All three started to unload on me. I just had to push a little more of my will into the shield to keep any of the bullets from penetrating. But the quick and concentrated fire tested the limits of my wind magic. Each round weakened it a bit, forcing me to continue spending magical energy to harden it.

But they ran out of ammo long before my shield ran out of juice.

A haze of gun smoke swirled through the room, and the air smell like firecrackers. The trio stared at me with wide, worried eyes. I noticed the Bull's gun barrel twitching as his hand trembled.

The skinny guys, as if synchronized, stepped back and lowered their guns.

I let my shield dissipate and stretched my right hand out at my side, palm up. I called on the power of fire, drawing both on the little bit of heat in the air and the simmering burn inside of me that had started two months ago—when my mother had been killed—and hadn't cooled since.

Blue fire burst up from my palm. I could feel its heat, but it didn't hurt me. This was my fire, and it only burned when I told it to.

The flame's color came from that rage inside me. I had learned not that long ago that I could feed my magic not only with the natural power I was born with, but my deepest emotions as well. Used to be, I only whipped out the blue stuff when I needed a shit ton of extra heat. These days, I couldn't seem to conjure any other kind.

“Are you ready to answer some questions now?” I asked.

The skinny guys didn't move, a couple of cowardly statues with empty guns.

The Bull curled his lip. “You'll get nothing.”

I looked from him to my flaming hand, then back. “Are you sure?”

His own gaze flicked to the fire. His curled lip twitched as his eyes widened, but he recovered his hard stare and aimed it down the barrel of his gun at me. “Nothing.”

I pointed at his weapon with my free hand. “You know that's empty, right?”

As if spurred on by this factoid, he released the magazine. It slid out of the grip and clattered on the terracotta-colored floor tiles. Without moving his gaze from me, he dug into a pocket, pulled out a fresh mag, and slammed it in place.

My patience had turned to gossamer, ready to rip open in a stiff breeze.

“You rack that slide, I'm going to kill you.”

“You don't look like killer,” he said as he reached out with his free hand and cupped it over the top of his pistol.

“That's the kind of dumb thing villains in movies say. And while they're usually right, because the good guys are lame, I'll clear one thing up right now. I am not a good guy.”

He racked the slide, putting a round in the chamber.

I threw a blue fireball at him. It sailed across the restaurant like a like a wild, loose comet, and struck him in the face. A horrid shriek shot from his throat as his skin peeled away, exposing the muscle and sinew attached to his skull. He flailed back, managed to squeeze off shots that went into the floor, breaking some tiles, then he hit the table and keeled backward.

His weight flipped the table toward him and onto its edge, tossing the bottle of vodka and glasses away to shatter on the floor. The table provided a backdrop for him to lean against as he plopped onto his ass in a sitting position. His flailing turned to twitching. His gun tumbled out of his grip. The heels of his shiny loafers knocked against the floor. And when the fire burned through his skull and liquefied his brain, he stopped screaming.

The table cloth had caught fire. I sent out a bit of my will to kill the flames both on the tablecloth and on the Bull's head. (Didn't want to burn the whole place down.) What remained of his head looked like the scorched end of a spent match.

He fell still, propped against the table like a gross art installation from a sickened mind.

And, yeah, that sickened mind belonged to me.

The skinny guys had actually used the time their comrade burned to reload. Their hands shook, and their aim sucked, but they did take me by surprise. They started shooting before I could throw up a shield. Their trembling caused most of the rounds to go wide, but one of them zipped along my left bicep. It cut through my coat and shirt, and dug a fair-sized trench along the width of my arm.

I back pedaled and came up against the buffet.

Another bullet tagged me in my right thigh. I hadn't had a chance to feel the pain from the wound on my arm, adrenaline keeping it at bay. But this shot to my leg sent waves of agony up into my crotch and down past my kneecap. I cried out and stumbled. I tried to grab the buffet to keep my feet, but I only managed to knock my elbow against the counter top. I landed on my left side, nothing to break my fall except the arm I'd just been shot in.

Pain and more pain cut through me.

I tried to use it to bolster my magic, but pure pain, outside of emotion's reach, only frazzled my concentration too much to conjure anything.

Thankfully, the guys' guns clicked dry before I took any more hits.

One of them fumbled into his pocket and pulled out another fucking magazine. The other ran for the doorway into the kitchen.

I clamped my teeth together and focused my rage enough to puncture through the pain and draw on my magic. I used the energy to deaden the pain in my arm and leg. I hated doing it, because it meant splitting my power if I wanted to throw some more fire. And I definitely wanted to throw more fire.

But me going against one little guy who had yet to reload his pistol wouldn't take much effort. I totally had this.

I drew up more blue fire, engulfing my right fist. I didn't bother standing up.

The skinny guy slapped home his fresh magazine. Unlike the Bull, I didn't give him a chance to chamber a round. I whipped my flame at him, the blast a little bigger than I had intended.

He saw it coming in time to throw up his arms. A lot of good that did. The fire struck his forearms, but the excessive force I had used threw him backward on impact, bouncing him off the wall. His gun went flying. He dropped to the floor and flapped his burning arms, which only fueled the flames, causing them to spread up to his shoulders. The fabric of his shirt and tie disintegrated in a few seconds, and his skin started bubbling and puckering quickly afterward.

“God damn it,” I shouted. “Stop whipping your arms around. You're making it worse.”

He didn't hear me. Just kept flapping like a duck having a seizure.

I was about to reach out and kill the flames with my power, but that's when the skinny guy who had run into the kitchen came out with a fucking Uzi in his hands.

Chapter Two

The guy with the Uzi howled as he held down the trigger and started spitting a barrage of nine-millimeter rounds at me.

The gun had a kick he must not have been used to. His first burst went high.

I conjured a shield, but it wouldn't last long against the rapid, fully automatic gunfire—eventually one round would make it through.

I scrabbled across the floor and rounded the buffet. A second after I made it to the other side, pieces of the paneling on the buffet cracked into splinters against another burst of gunfire.

My magic had numbed my wounded leg a little too much. I had to yank it toward me so I could sit back against the buffet. I hoped the gunner would spend the rest of his ammo with wild shooting that’s so easy to do with a fully automatic weapon. But once I was out of his line of sight, he stopped.

My breath rattled in my chest. My heart knocked at a thousand beats per second. While I'd struggled my way to the opposite side of the buffet, my stupid duster had wrapped and caught around my ankles. I was so getting rid of that thing if I made it out of there alive.

“You're pinned down and wounded,” the skinny guy shouted. “Come out from behind there and I'll let you walk away.”

Bullshit.

I looked down at my leg. Blood seeped from the bullet hole in my thigh. Even if I kept the pain at bay with my magic, blood loss was still blood loss. And the more that leaked out of me, the weaker I'd get. Pretty soon, the gunman could stroll around the buffet and finish me off without too much trouble.

So I had to make a move before any of that happened.

I scooted along the length of the buffet to the opposite end. I tried to move as quietly as possible so he wouldn't know what I was doing.

“You really think you can take down a sorcerer with a gun?” I shouted to cover up the sound of my ass sliding against the tiles.

“Looks like guns have done a pretty good job so far.”

Touché.

When I reached the end of the buffet, I peeked around the corner just enough to get my relative position to him. Then I pulled on my magic and began to weave the air. The plan: Blow the goon against the wall, knock the gun out of his hand, then knock him around a little more until he was ready to talk.

I visualized it in my mind, choreographing it. Then practice time was over.

I pushed myself up to a crouch and duck walked around the buffet's corner. I felt the blood pump harder out of my gunshot wound, saturating my pants, and tried to ignore it.

I saw, too late, that the skinny guy had figured out my game. He had his Uzi pointed straight at me as I abandoned my cover.

The air I had planned to use to knock him on his ass, I instead pulled together into a shield.

His gun chattered. A steady stream of bullets hammered my shield, and I could feel it weaken almost immediately. The rounds came too fast for me to continuously compensate. Between that and having my magic split to stave off my pain, I didn't have a whole lot of magical finesse at my disposal.

I dug right into my raw power and called on more fire. I hurled a bolt of blue flames nearly the same size as the skinny guy himself. It plowed into him so hard and hot, it ripped him apart. One flaming arm went one way, the Uzi still gripped in its hand. A leg tore free and went spinning like a baton in another direction. His torso nearly disintegrated entirely, exposing his rib cage and the fiery goop that used to be his heart and lungs. What remained intact of him flew backward, the force snapping his neck and ripping his head partially away from his shoulders.

He slammed into the wall and crushed the plaster. Since so much of him had turned to fleshy slag, he stuck against the wall for a moment like a giant bug against a windshield. Then he sloughed off to the floor.

I released all the magic I'd been holding, including what I was spending to fight off the pain, and dropped to my knees. The pain roared back and filled me with nausea. A cold sweat coated my face.

I heard groaning.

For a sick moment, I thought it came from the guy I had just obliterated. Then my rational mind picked up the ball, and I realized it came from behind the tipped over table.

One of them was still alive.

I tried to get to my feet. The pain shot through my leg as if it had taken a fresh bullet. I dropped to one knee. Grinding my teeth, I dipped into my magic once more, using just enough to quell the agony and leave me with a minor sting. I had more energy to work with, but I wanted to keep it available in case another asshole came running out of the kitchen with an AK-47 or something crazy.

I limped my way over to and around the table.

The one who had kept flailing his arms and feeding his flames lay at my feet. His face was a wicked mess of burns. His arms had disintegrated to the bones. I could see one side of his jaw through a hole in his cheek. The burns had forced his eyes into a permanent squint, but they were open wide enough for him to look up at me.

What remained of his mouth moved, and he wheezed. He was trying to talk.

Good.

“You've had dealings with the Maidens of Shadow,” I said. “Tell me where I can find them.”

His mouth moved again, but he only wheezed some more.

“Tell me where to find them or I'll take one of those salt shakers off a table and empty it into your burns.”

“Kill…me.”

“You're worried about them killing you if you talk? Are you an idiot? You're pretty much dead already.”

“Kill me,” he repeated in a tortured rasp.

Then I realized what he meant. He wanted me to put him out of his misery.

Not a fucking chance. Not until he told me what I needed to know.

“I will,” I said. “And I'll make it quick. But you need to tell me how I can find the witches.”

He made an incoherent string of noises, none of which sounded like an actual word.

I pointed down at him. “You want me to let you lay here and suffer? I can do that. Like I told your big friend over there. I am not one of the good guys.”

But he only gave me more wheezes and gurgles.

I raked my hands through my hair and paced away from him. “Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck.”

I had to suffer the truth. He was too badly burned. He wouldn't talk. He couldn't talk.

I turned around and glared down at this pathetic excuse for a human being.

“This is what happens when you ignorant assholes mess with what you don't understand,” I said. “When you make deals with witches. This is on you. All of this.” I waved my hand in a wide circle to indicate the surrounding carnage. “This is on you.”

I threw my fist out at my side and called once more on fire. What I conjured up was a more brilliant blue than anything I had before. Even though I had willed it to life, its heat felt like it might actually burn me this time.

I didn't hold it long enough to find out.

I turned that bastard into a scorch mark on the floor.

Chapter Three

I got into the car smelling like smoke and ashes. My leg was throbbing despite the magic keeping it from totally incapacitating me. I had found some dish towels in the kitchen and had tied one around my leg to keep the blood flow staunched as much as possible, though it had already soaked through and I was going to have an ugly stain on the driver's seat of my Jetta.

I also had another towel with my consolation prize wrapped in it.

I slammed the door shut and started the engine.

“What the hell happened in there?”

Odi, my apprentice and teenage vampire, sat in the passenger seat gaping at me. He wore a pair of ripped jeans and a Metallica t-shirt under an unbuttoned plaid flannel with the sleeves rolled up. His nest of red hair glistened with whatever kind of product he put in it.

“Hold this,” I said and tossed him the folded towel. Some blood stained the fabric, not all of it mine.

“What is it?” He opened up the towel and jerked when he was what was inside. “Dude, it's a freakin' ear.”

I put the car in drive and pulled away from the curb. We were out in Northville, one of the suburbs of Detroit. I hoped I could make it into the city before I passed out from blood loss.

“Yes,” I said. “It's an ear.”

Odi scrunched up his face as he folded the bloody ear back up in the towel. “Why?”

“I didn't get the information I needed. I hope to use that for a vision spell. Hopefully, I'll be able to see far enough into his past to find a clue about where the Maidens are holed up.”

“So you ripped off a guy's ear?”

“Relax. He was already dead.” I gritted my teeth as I made a right at the next intersection. “They're all dead.”

He made a disgusted grunt. “I told you to take me in with you.”

“You didn't need to see all that.”

“Like I haven't seen a bunch of burned up guys before. You do know who my mentor is, right?”

“It's not the aftermath I was worried about. I knew I would have to get…firm.”

Odi crossed his arms and looked at me like a disappointed grade school teacher. “You mean torture them.”

I hitched a shoulder and just kept driving.

“You know, I'm with you on this. All the way. I don't care what we have to do to find them. If you need me to, I'll chew some throats out. Those witches deserve to pay for what they did to Judith.”

I didn't say anything. We'd had this conversation several times before in the last two months. He was right. I was trying to shield him from the worst of our pursuit. But not so much for his sake. Despite what I told the goons at the restaurant, that I wasn't a good guy, I wanted to be a good guy. But vengeance was dirty business. I didn't want Odi to see how bad I really was. I had a hard enough time accepting it myself.

When he figured out I had shut down the conversation, Odi sighed and relaxed back into his seat.

Fresh pain pulsed in my leg, rising above the level of magic I was using. I pushed a little more energy into it, and the pain receded. “Call Elaine,” I said. “Tell her we're coming in hot.”

“She's not going to appreciate us waking her up in the middle of the night.”

“I can survive an angry Elaine better than I can all this blood loss.”

Odi dug his phone out of his pocket and started dialing. “You sure about that?”

Chapter Four

Elaine is a large woman with an even larger personality. And while I had to listen to a litany of obscenities in her off-kilter accent, she was a damn good healer. She used some kind of goo to close the hole then patched me up quick and sent me and Odi on our way, slamming the door behind us after I'd barely cleared the threshold.

Odi and I were supposed to work on his training that night, but I was still feeling weak. I decided to let him play hooky so I could get some sleep.

“Put the ear in the fridge,” I told him before going upstairs to bed.

“Gross, dude.”

I woke up way too early, the sun cutting through my blinds and shining in my face. I rolled onto my side, blinked away the fog across my vision, and checked the clock on the nightstand. Having a vampire for an apprentice meant keeping shit hours. It was only noon, which was like midnight for me on my nocturnal schedule.

I rolled over, away from the intruding sunlight, and squeezed my eyes shut. I hoped to escape into more sleep, but it wasn't happening. My brain had kicked into high gear. The sight of my mother's still body and all that blood on her kept coming up in the darkness behind my eyelids.

With a mighty groan, I sat up, scrubbed at my face with my hands, then gouged my knuckles into my eyes to clear out the sleep.

After a shower and a cup of coffee, I almost felt like the living instead of the walking dead. Although, speaking of the walking dead, Odi never seemed the least bit groggy when he came out of his coffin after dusk. Said coffin sat in my basement. If the sun wouldn't have turned him to dust, I would have gone down there and pounded on the coffin's lid until he woke up to join me. The sleep-deprived loved company.

Instead, I had an extra cup of coffee, reluctantly put on my duster, and headed out.

First stop, the mall to get a sensible coat.

I picked out a light cotton zip-up jacket with a hood. It hung nicely, and didn't go farther than a couple inches below my waist. Nothing to get tangled up in. I left the duster hanging on the rack in the new coat's place. Let someone else deal with that monstrosity.

From the mall, I drove to the private cemetery on the edge of Detroit that catered to those of us in the paranormal community. I could wind my way through the place with my eyes closed, I'd made the drive to Mom's grave so many times in the last couple months.

I parked at the edge of the asphalt path nearest her grave, then threaded my way on foot to where she lay. The sod they'd laid over her resting place had already started to blend with the grass around it. A few pre-spring rains had helped it along.

I knelt at her side. Today the grass was cool and brittle. The first day of spring had technically passed, but Michigan weather was never much bothered by what a calendar said. A steady wind carried the remains of winter on it and made me wish I'd gone with a thicker coat. But for all I knew, tomorrow would end up in the seventies, and I wouldn't need the coat at all.

I brushed away a thin dust of earth the breeze had blown across my mother's grave stone, which was embedded into the ground and lay flat. I had tried to come up with something good for the engraving. I was no poet, but I thought I'd gotten it right.

It read, “Beloved wife, devoted mother, and a Light in an otherwise dark world.”

Tears welled in my eyes as I leaned over to read the engraving for the hundredth time, as if I'd forgotten what it said. One tear dripped loose and patted the stone like a single rain drop.

I wiped my eyes clear with the back of my wrist.

“I'm sorry, Mom. I'm still trying. But I really messed it up last night.”

I inhaled the earthy smell around me then slowly sighed. My breath shook as it came out of me. I clamped my jaw. My stomach churned. If those assholes had just stopped, realized they couldn't fight me and win, if they had just answered my damn questions, they'd still be alive, and I would have had a trail to follow.

But I had fucked up, too. I had underestimated their desire to stay quiet about the Maidens. And I hadn't expected that damn Uzi. They were small-time thugs who had used some magic cooked up by the black witches to help them rob a gods damned bank. The witches must have come across a lot scarier than I had, even with my flaming hand. Who knew what wicked things they'd promised if the men betrayed them?

“I'm sorry,” I repeated and pressed my palm flat against the stone.

“Do you believe in an afterlife?”

I started at the woman's voice behind me. My heart kicked hard as I sprang to my feet and twisted around to face her.

She wore a powder blue sari wrapped loosely around her body. Her eyes were black, yet shone even with the sun behind the clouds. She had a red bindi on her forehead just above her eyebrows. She kept her hands clasped at her waist like someone in a choir ready to sing a solo. And while she looked perfectly relaxed, the waves of magical energy pouring off her suggested she could throw a spell, and a doozy of one, at a moment's notice.

One hell of a sorceress stood before me.

“Who are you?” I asked.

She smiled a kindly smile, the shine in her eyes intensifying. “My name is Urvasi Sabio.” She nodded toward Mom's grave. “I'm a friend of your mother’s.”

A chill washed through me. I took an involuntary step back. The last time someone had claimed to be a friend of Mom's, he ended up being the ring leader of a conspiracy bent on turning the poorer neighborhoods of Detroit into a vampire feeding ground. And the last time I saw him, I had fed him to a hellhound.

I had a feeling I wouldn't have such an easy time up against this woman. I could tell just by the feel of her magic that she trumped Markus Hope's power tenfold. She was even more powerful than Mom. I could easily believe she was three centuries old, though she didn't look a day older than sixty.

“That's nice,” I said. “I'll leave you to pay your respects.”

She bowed her head. “Most appreciated. But I've come to speak with you.”

“Whatever you're selling, I'm not interested.”

She smiled again. She had a nice smile, comforting. Which rankled me, because I didn't want comfort. I didn't want anything from this lady.

“I understand your reticence,” she said.

She stood between me and the direct line to my car. I began skirting around her. She followed me with her gaze, but didn't move. Besides, if she wanted to stop me, considering the power she had ready, I wouldn't be going anywhere.

“I assure you I come at your mother's behest.”

I tilted my head toward the ground. “In case you didn't notice, she's dead. And, to answer your question, I'm not sure if there's an afterlife. But even if there is, I doubt she's talking to you from the beyond.”

She laughed. “No. Certainly not. Her request came not long after she recovered from her terrible accident.”

Less than a year ago, Mom had lived in a nursing home, in a near vegetative state. Barely responsive to even the biggest stimulus. With the help of my alchemist friend, Sly Petrie, I had given her a potion that had finally woken her from her condition. Soon after, I'd learned what happened wasn't exactly an accident.

But I didn't remember Mom telling me about contacting any old friends once awake. And she hadn't said anything to me about a mysterious Indian woman who might show up out of nowhere.

“Well, now, that's convenient,” I said. “Considering she isn't here to contradict you.”

This Urvasi woman said, “After what happened to her, she wanted to make sure things were set in place should anything else go wrong.”

“What things?”

“An arrangement for you to continue your training.”

I stood there with my mouth hanging open for a second. “What?”

She flashed her motherly smile again and inclined her head. “You are a very young sorcerer, Sebastian. You must realize your apprenticeship is unfinished.”

“I…”

With all that had happened three years ago, with Dad's death and Mom mentally checking out, the last thing I had worried about was sorcerer school. Unlike Odi, whose parents had abandoned him at birth, most sorcerers learned from their parents as a natural part of being raised. But Urvasi was right. Even after moving out, even at thirty-two years old, a sorcerer continued studying under their elders. In average mortal terms, I was merely a teenager in my extended life cycle, at least in terms of my magical skills.

While I thought this all through, Urvasi politely waited. She studied me intently. I didn't know what she was looking for. She could have been gazing into me with a second sight of some kind. The idea made me all squidgy, as if a bunch of spiders had crawled under my collar and down my back.

I took a few more steps around her, keeping a good eight or nine feet between us.

“I don't want any part of this.”

For the first time, she frowned. “Please. You must trust me.”

“No. I really must not. For all I know, the Maidens of Shadow sent you.”

Urvasi raised an eyebrow. “Is it common for black witches to send assassins from outside their coven?”

She knew the answer.

So did I.

But that didn't automatically mean I should trust her, or believe anything she had to say.

“Whoever you are,” I said, “I don't want anything to do with you. So unless you're going to blow me up or something with all that magic you're holding, I'd like to leave now.”

She glanced down at Mom's tombstone. “The engraving is beautiful. Did you come up with that?”

“Not really feeling the need for small talk, either.” I tipped an imaginary hat. “I'll be on my way now.”

I gave her a wide berth as I headed back to my car. I was hesitant to turn my back to her, but I couldn't very well walk backwards the whole way. How slick would that look, me tripping over someone's tombstone like a bad imitation of a Jerry Lewis pratfall?

When I did turn away, I could feel her gaze on me. Not metaphorically. As I suspected, she was using some alternate vision as she watched me. I could tell by the tingling running up between my shoulder blades. More spiders.

She didn't follow me, though. By the time I got to my car, the sensation had faded. I looked back and saw her kneeling beside Mom. She had her hands folded as if praying. And I thought I could see her lips moving.

Weird lady. Even for a sorceress.

I got in my car and drove away. But I couldn't let go of this feeling that I had left something behind, or I had forgotten to do something.

I didn't know what, though. So I pushed the feeling aside and continued on my way.

Chapter Five

Sly's Smoke Shop was on John R. Road in Hazel Park. I found a parking spot at the curb out front. When I got out of the car, my gaze involuntarily drifted across the street to what was little more than an empty corner lot now, though it used to be a gas station. During a vampire riot late last year, a few vamps had blown the place up, but not before brutally killing a couple people first. I had never seen such random violence from vampires. If they meant to kill, they typically drew their prey into the shadows to feed on them. They didn't play with their food.

I shook off the memory and went inside.

I felt a little dizzy when I first entered. Sly's shop had taken some serious damage during the riot as well, and while I had helped with the remodeling at the start, I hadn't been over to see it since. I barely recognized the place. The glass counters that had once lined the outside of the space were gone, and new ones formed a square in the center, creating a sort of barrier around whoever manned the register, which faced the door.

Along the back wall, Sly had set up some bookshelves and a new magazine rack. The shelves had various books facing out with marijuana leaves on their covers. Some were coffee table books apparently devoted to the art of growing weed. Who knew there was such a thing?

The magazine rack had the usual periodicals Sly had carried before the shop was wrecked. So now he had a veritable library, all focused on pot.

The other walls deviated from the theme significantly. Paintings, photographs, and a few wall sculptures hung as if in a gallery. I saw little white tags fixed to the wall underneath each. Was he selling art now, too?

Sly sat behind the register on a high stool. He wore his typical stonewashed jeans and a blousy pink shirt. He had trimmed his gray pony tail down to its usual stubbiness. His gaze was locked on a book he held in his lap.

Despite the tone the door made when I entered, he didn't look up.

I stood there a moment, not sure if I should say something, clear my throat, or just wait until he finished his chapter, or what? He would have never treated one of his customers like this, so I had to assume he'd seen me coming through the stretch of plate glass that ran the entire length of his shop.

I started to feel flushed across my cheeks. This was so awkward.

Finally, I decided to break the standoff. So I cleared my throat and said, “Hey, Sly.”

He held up a finger and continued to read for another minute. Then he slapped the book shut and tossed it onto the glass counter. It must have come from his new library. It had the silhouette of a pot leaf on its cover.

“What can I do for you?”

“Um…” I blew out a long breath, puffing out my cheeks. “Just came to see you.”

“Oh.” He looked around him. “What do you think of the new place?”

“It's great. The art on the walls is…different.”

“I'm showcasing local artists. I've sold a number of pieces already. I only keep a small cut. I let the artists have the rest. I just want to get them seen. The world could use more art in its life.”

“Yeah, sure. That's awesome.”

Then came another awkward silence. He stared right at me. I felt scrutinized. Judged. I had never gotten that vibe from Sly before. He was one of the most accepting people I knew.

“Hey,” I said, seizing on the first topic I could think of to kill the quiet. “Do you know a woman name Urvasi Sabio?”

He wrinkled his brow, thought for a moment, then shook his head. “Doesn't ring a bell.”

“I was over at Mom's grave. This lady popped up out of nowhere and claimed she was a friend of Mom's.”

He looked at me with an unspoken, And? What's your point?

“Aren't you a little curious?”

“Should I be?”

I sighed. “Come on, Sly. Work with me here. I'm trying my best.”

He frowned, looked down at his book as if all he wanted to do was get lost in its pages again. He obviously didn't want me there. “I'm still not there, brother.”

I almost squealed in delight. He hadn't referred to me as brother since the clusterfuck with the Maidens. Progress? Maybe. He used to call me that all the time. I would take whatever I could get.

“I'm not expecting you to jump for joy at the sight of me,” I said. “But do you have to be so…disturbed?”

He let his gaze rise up to meet mine. “It's funny you should use that word.”

My stomach twisted a bit. I'd thrown out disturbed because I couldn't think of a better word in the moment. I probably should have said bothered. But from the look on Sly's face, I had used the right word after all.

“I disturb you?”

He scratched at his gray, stubbly goatee, seemingly contemplating his next words with care. “I was dead. Now I'm alive. That alone is unsettling, to say the least. It isn't like I don't appreciate what you did for me. It's that it came at too high a price. Your mom should be the one still alive. Not me.”

This was the knot in our relationship. One I couldn't figure out how to untie. But I desperately needed to. Sly was the closest thing I had left to family. The only friend I had now was a seventeen-year-old kid who had been turned into a vampire barely two years ago, and hadn't known he was a sorcerer until not even one year ago. A lot of baggage there. I liked the kid. I'd warmed to him thanks to his goofy personality and the fact that he still seemed more human than monster. But that wouldn't last long. Eventually, he would begin to embrace his true nature. I could only pretend things were any other way for so long.

But Sly was a different story. I'd known him since I was a kid. He was the last tether I had to my childhood. I couldn't stand to lose him. Hell, that was why I had gone through such hell to bring him back. Why I had gone as far as trading a piece of my soul for his. Which had turned out to be a colossal mistake. Still, I didn't regret it entirely. I just wished it had all gone down a lot differently.

“What can I do, Sly?”

He shook his head. “Not sure there's anything to be done, brother. Maybe, after enough time, I won't…” He trailed off and pressed his lips tightly together.

“Won't what?”

He closed his eyes for a moment, centering himself. When he opened them, the sadness I saw within made my heart twinge.

“I won't see a face I resent.”

I tried to swallow, but the chunk of something in my throat wouldn't go down. I wanted to argue with him, tell him it wasn't fair to put that on me. But it was fair. And I would just have to deal with it.

“Okay. I gotcha. I'll let you get back to your book. The place looks great. I'm glad it's working out.”

He nodded and picked up his book. He didn't open it, but it was a clear dismissal.

I threw him a quick wave and left.

The wind somehow felt more bitter, even though the afternoon sun had burned through the clouds and should have warmed things up. Maybe it was just me.

Chapter Six

Later that evening I sat at my dining room table with an interesting collection of items. First, the ceramic bowl I had pulled down from one of the cupboards. Something Mom had bought ages ago, and that had ended up collecting dust on the top shelf. The next item was a paring knife. If I stopped there, you might have thought I had sat down for some kind of snack. But I didn't eat ears, and the ear I had ripped off of little guy at the restaurant was yet another item before me. Then there was the rubbing alcohol and the vodka.

I had a vision spell planned. Still not an area of magic I excelled at, but I had done a couple now, and had gotten better each time. A little, anyway.

The ear was the connection I needed to the Bull so I could walk backwards in his shoes and hope to glimpse something in his past that could help me find the Maidens.

I plopped that baby in the bowl. It had gone a little gelatinous and wiggled for a second when it landed. It smelled like old cheese. I stuck to breathing through my mouth for the time being.

The next ingredient was something the magical lexicon referred to as a weakness. Something that would keep the target's soul from rebelling against the spell and causing various kinds of mayhem. That's where the vodka came in. I was guessing here. I didn't know for sure that the Bull had a drinking problem. But he had looked a little extra ruddy around the nose. Hopefully, it was enough of a vice to keep his soul at bay.

I dumped only enough vodka into the bowl to wet down the ear and have a little pool at the bottom. It was a cheap fifth I had picked up from a drug store on the way back from Sly's, but cheap or not, no sense wasting booze. You never knew when you would need a quick shot. Gods knew I had earned some.

I used the rubbing alcohol to sterilize the paring knife. If I wanted to merge my mind with the Bull's past, I had to have some skin in the game. Or, in this case, some blood. I sliced the pad of my left thumb and squeezed a few drops into the bowl. Most of it went into the cup of the ear, though I hadn't been aiming for it. The blood just needed to have some contact with the source.

I sucked my thumb, then pushed a tiny bit of magic into it and knitted the cut closed. That was about as much healing as I could consciously give myself. Healing was a particular art all on its own, and most sorcerers didn't specialize in it. We left most of that stuff to the druids and alchemists.

I rested my hands in my lap, closed my eyes, and focused my will on the bowl's contents. I took deep, steady breaths. The trick with more subtle spells like this one—as opposed to flinging around bolts of flame—was not to put too much power into it, yet use enough to give you the results you needed. I had never been that good with what I used to call small magic. I hadn't thought I needed it. When you're a demon hunter, a whole lot of fire and wind took care of most situations just fine.

I could feel my magic hum around the bowl like a miniature aura. The bowl began to rattle against the table. I opened my eyes and watched it skitter a couple inches to the right. The vodka started to bubble.

I was putting too much into it. But it felt like I was hardly touching it.

I released an even breath and scaled my magic back.

The bowl went still. The vodka behaved like room temperature vodka was supposed to.

But now I didn't have any sense that the spell was working. Had I pulled back too far?

Gods, I hated this shit. Let me go burn up another restaurant.

I clenched a fist against my thigh. I was screwing this up. I would end up tainting the spell and blow another possible lead.

No.

I clenched my teeth and pushed more power into the spell.

The bowl started its little dance again. The ceramic made a burrrrrr sound against the table's wooden surface. I stared at the bowl so hard my eyes dried out from not blinking. My knuckles grew sore from clenching my fist so tightly.

“Damn it,” I said under my breath. “Work. Just…work.”

The bowl stopped again.

A sudden phosphorescent blue mist wisped away from the contents. The last two times I had done a spell like this, I hadn't seen a blue mist, but I was pretty sure it meant I had sparked the spell. Now for the gross part.

(Why did there always have to be a gross part?)

I dipped my fingers into the liquid, squished the ear a little to make sure I touched all three ingredients—blood, vodka, and ear. Then I closed my eyes, lifted my fingers out of the bowl, and smeared the mixture over my eyelids.

Old cheese and vodka made a terrible scent combo. My throat closed as I nearly gagged.

I made sure to breathe through my mouth again and settled back in my chair. I relaxed my body and focused on the darkness behind my eyelids. The light hanging from the ceiling in the dining room was on, so some light still seeped through. But after an instant, the blackness turned absolute.

When I scooped the gunk out of my eyes and opened them, I no longer sat at the table.

I stood in the parking lot of a seedy motel. Well, it was the Bull who stood there, but I rode along inside as if we were one and the same. I stood near the front office, though with my back to it. I had my hands tucked in the pockets of a pair of imitation Armani slacks. The air tasted like exhaust and had a chilly bite.

Above me, the motel's neon sign buzzed. The sign told me there were still vacancies, that each room had cable TV, and that the name of the dump was Kingston Estates. I internally laughed at the name. The Bull, on the other hand, wasn't laughing. In fact, where his emotions should have sat, I felt nothing but a cold void. I didn't know if I had tripped up the spell somehow, but I should have had access to how he was feeling just as clearly as I could interpret his other senses.

Not that I needed it. I just needed this memory to lead somewhere.

He turned around and looked through the window into the motel's small reception area. A guy in his late twenties still battling acne flares on his cheeks sat behind the desk, glassy gaze locked on his phone as he swiped at the screen with his thumb.

I realized I couldn't get a read on the Bull's thoughts either.

I really had jacked up the spell. I could deal with not knowing his emotions. Thoughts, though, were key, damn it. For all I knew, he could have been thinking about where he'd been, where he was going, maybe even something specific about the Maidens. This left me at a serious disadvantage.

I stuck with it, though. I would just have to rely on his perceptions alone and hope for a tip.

After checking out the kid behind the desk, the Bull strode across the parking lot, straight for room six. I poked around his other senses. Couldn't feel a key in any of his pockets. Maybe one of his other buddies had it already inside the room. But I was hoping for something better.

When he reached the door, he knocked immediately. He took a deep breath. Nerves? Damn it, I really wished I had full access. His stomach did a tumble. Yeah, definitely nerves. I hoped I knew what had him worked up, but I didn't want to set myself up for disappointment.

He had to wait a good twenty seconds before the door finally opened.

Out in the real world, where I sat at my dining room table, I gasped. I recognized the girl at once. A red-headed, freckled girl with knobby elbows and a seemingly permanent scowl. I also knew she had a twin.

It was either Tara or Fia. Didn't matter which. She was one of the Maidens of Shadow.

Could I have really gotten this lucky? The first memory I had hopped into, and the Bull led me right to them?

The girl gave the Bull a once over, nodded, and swung open the door.

His stomach did another tumble as he took in the sight.

Every one of the remaining witches in the coven were in the motel room. A few sitting on either of a pair of full-sized beds. A couple more milling about. Four of them were young, about college age. The other three were older, mid-forties at least. One of them had straight red hair and her own dusting of freckles. Obviously the mother of the twins. The other had her back to the Bull. She gazed out the room's back window that only had a view of a gray cinder block wall.

The twins' mother glided toward the door with a thin, lopsided smile. “Mr. Groski,” she said. “Do come in.”

The Bull hesitated a second, then crossed the threshold.

A searing white light blasted across my vision. Pain cracked through my skull as if someone had clocked me on the head with a sock full of ball bearings. The sensation of falling made my stomach lurch. Then came the impact.

Next thing I knew, I was back in my dining room and staring at the ceiling. It took a second for me to get my bearings. I had tipped backward in my chair. I was still sitting on it like an astronaut in a rocket ready to launch. My head throbbed like a motherfucker. I didn't know what had happened, but one thing was for sure—the spell was done.

I rolled off the chair and got to my feet.

On the table, the ear in the bowl had turned to a wet, black lump. Inky smoke rose from it. The stink made the old cheese smell seem like roses in comparison. It smelled like someone had lit three-day-old road kill on fire.

I stared at it absently, my mind a little cloudy. Then I blinked away the daze and hurried into the kitchen. My laptop sat open on the counter. I tapped at the track pad to wake the computer up. Then I got online and looked up the Kingston Estates motel. Once I had an address, I plugged it into my phone's GPS.

I grabbed my coat and was almost out the door when I froze.

What if the witches were still there? I couldn't rush in there half-cocked.

I looked outside. Even at seven o' clock, the sun still had plenty of light left. Fucking daylight savings time. I needed the dark, because I needed Odi. I wouldn't make the same mistake I had at the restaurant.

See? I could learn my lesson.

Waiting for dusk was excruciating. As each minute passed, I grew more and more convinced I was letting the Maidens get away. It did give me time to contemplate how to tackle the situation if they were, in fact, still in that motel room. I wouldn't rush in. That would be suicide. I would have Odi shadow walk his way close enough to determine if they were inside. If so, the next part was easy.

I'd burn down the whole fucking building.

Chapter Seven

The motel was on the outskirts of the city. It sat between a pawn shop and a closed down Mexican restaurant. Odi and I sat in my car, parked across the street. The place looked exactly as it had during my vision. Only a couple cars were in the lot, neither one parked in front of room six. I couldn't see any light coming from the window either, but the heavy curtains were drawn shut, so I couldn't be sure no one was in there. It wasn't even ten o' clock, but maybe witches went to bed early.

Or maybe this was another dead end.

While I would have loved to march up to the door, blast it off its hinges, and start flinging fire at anything that moved inside, that probably wouldn't end well whether the Maidens were in there or not. Thankfully, I had a vampire with me.

“You want to do some shadow walking?” I asked. “See if you can peek in around that curtain?”

Odi sucked his teeth and thought it over for a few seconds. He pointed toward the motel. “Too many lights. Especially from that tall one. There aren't enough shadows to get me around it.”

He was right. A pair of antenna-shaped lights loomed over the lot on either side. Not even the overhang above the doors to the rooms cast much of a shadow in the yellow glow. The one on the left lit the area Odi would need to sneak through. One damn light stood in the way.

I climbed out of the car. Odi followed suit. He looked at me over the roof of the car.

“What are you gonna do?”

I nodded toward our light enemy. “Watch and learn.”

I held out my hand and focused on the glowing bulb. I felt the heat it generated. I drew on that heat, made it stronger. Hotter. Brighter. I could feel the flame ignite within, then the bulb exploded, shards of glass and sparks spraying and falling to the asphalt below.

Darkness enveloped half of the motel's front lot. Now the overhang above room six cast thick shadows. So thick I couldn't make out the door until my eyes adjusted.

“That dark enough for you?”

He smirked. “Easy peasy.”

He strolled across the street, and when he reached the lot, he faded from sight.

The kid was a master at shadow walking. I had seen him meld with the tiniest sliver of darkness. Which always made me smile. His first attempts at the vampire trick had sucked horribly.

I waited patiently, trying not to pay too much attention to the burnt rubber smell hanging in the still air. The night kept some of the day's warmth. The temp probably floated somewhere in the high fifties. The inconsistent Michigan weather at it again.

It only took Odi a couple of minutes, and then he stepped out of the shadows and crossed the street back to the car. He shrugged. “Didn't see or hear anything. Looks dark inside. I don't think anyone is in there.”

I gritted my teeth and hissed a breath out through my nose.

“What now boss?”

I rapped my fingers on the roof of the car in a steady rhythm as I thought things through. “They could have left some clues behind,” I said. “We should check it out.”

“You want to break in?”

“That a problem?”

“Only if we get caught, I guess.”

“We won't get caught.”

Together, we crossed the street. I wasn't worried too much about anyone seeing me. The darkness was probably enough to keep me out of sight of the front office. And whoever manned the desk that night hadn't bothered to come out to see what had happened to the light. My guess was, that guy with the acne who I'd seen in the vision, obsessed with the game on his phone, was probably on duty.

It must have been second nature for Odi to slip into the shadows. He disappeared from my side, and I had no sense of his relative position to me, but I knew he was still there.

“Show off,” I muttered under my breath.

I heard a suppressed chuckle from the darkness.

He came out of the shadows when we reached the door to room six.

“You gonna blow the door open?” he asked.

I gave him an Are you serious? look. Then I gripped the doorknob and called on my fire.

It took thirty seconds to melt the knob and leave behind a smoking hole, the bottom edge covered in cooling metal slag.

I poked the door with my index finger and it creaked inward.

A little bit of stray light allowed me a view of various dark shapes within. I made out the pair of beds, the squat dresser, a glinting reflection in the attached mirror.

I stepped inside, waited for Odi to do the same, then swung the door shut and flicked on the lights.

I squinted against the sudden brightness for a second and let my eyes recover. Then I looked around and saw nothing but your standard motel room.

The flowered bedspreads looked a little over-starched, and I thought I saw a few mysterious stains, but didn't stare long enough to know for sure.

The carpeting was so thin it was barely there. The smell of fake pine from an overabundance of disinfectant spray made the back of my throat itch every time I took a breath.

“Do you think they rent by the hour?” Odi asked.

“Let's look around.”

“What are we looking for, exactly?”

I hitched a shoulder. “I'm hoping we'll know it when we see it.”

I didn't have high hopes, though. The Maidens of Shadow hadn't risen to the level of power they possessed by being careless. They would have cleaned up any trace of their presence. And whatever they had missed, if anything, had probably ended up thrown out or destroyed by whatever passed as maid service in this dump.

Odi maneuvered his way between the beds and ducked down to look under them.

I started in on the dresser, checking each drawer from front to back, the whole while feeling like an idiot. Why was I wasting my time?

Because you destroyed the best lead you had, so you've got nothing better to do.

Thank you, Mr. Negative Self-Talk.

Odi shrieked.

My heart mule-kicked against my chest. I spun around.

He staggered away from the nightstand. The drawer hung open.

My mind raced, trying to guess what he'd found.

I rushed to his side, gripped his arm. “What is it?” I asked, a little leery about looking in to see for myself.

I noticed the red glow in his eyes. His skin had gone a light shade of gray. His mouth hung opened enough for me to see his fangs.

I shook him. “Odi, snap out of it.”

He blinked a couple times. The glow in his eyes faded. Some of his color came back. His fangs retracted.

He jerked as if suddenly cold. Then he turned to me, grunted in disgust, and rolled his eyes.

“Sorry, dude. It's nothing.”

I wrinkled my brow. “That hardly seemed like nothing.”

“Just instinct,” he said. “There's a Bible in there with a big cross printed on the cover.”

I felt the smile crack across my face. A laugh popped out of me.

Odi pouted. “Don't laugh. I'm embarrassed enough.”

I tried to stifle my chortling by pressing a fist against my mouth. I walked over to the nightstand, peered into the open drawer. Sure enough, there lay the Bible, courtesy of the Gideons.

I slid the drawer closed.

“Maybe you should head back to the car,” I said. “I'd hate for you to run into some religious tracts left behind by a Jehovah's Witness.”

He scowled. “First of all, I don't think Jehovah's Witnesses visit seedy motels. Second…fuck you.”

I laughed again and shook my head. “Why don't you check the bathroom. I'll check the closet.”

He grumbled something under his breath on the way.

I turned to the closet. It had an accordion door. A yellow grime coated the wood, especially thick around the small metal knob from countless hands pulling the door open. My skin crawled at the thought of touching it, so I used the toe of my boot to fold the door to one side.

The woman standing inside with her eyes closed sent a jolt through my chest. My heart seemed to stop for a second, while my blood still rushed, the sound loud in my ears.

Before I could make sense of what I was seeing, the woman opened her eyes. They glistened, solid black as a rodent's. She pulled back her lips, exposing crooked yellow pointed teeth. The snarl she made sounded like nothing human. Which made sense. She might have been a woman at one time, but she was all demon now.

Chapter Eight

The demon woman was dressed like a middle-class mom in a coral blouse and tan slacks. Her feet were bare and lined with black veins, but a pair of flats lay on the closet floor. Her hair was trimmed in a neat bob. In fact, if it weren't for all the visible, pulsing veins in her face and the pure black eyes, she looked like a sweet lady. I hoped she didn't have any family, because they would never see her again.

She leaped out of the closet at me.

I was too startled at the sight of her to dodge. She slammed the palms of her hands against my chest and sent me flying backward. I flailed helplessly until I hit the far wall. I knocked a generic print of a ship sailing toward a pink sunset off the wall on my way to the floor. The corner of its frame jabbed me in the ear.

I landed on my hands and knees. Electric sparks of pain shot through my back. I'd need a chiropractor for sure.

The demon snarled again and trudged toward me. She held her hands up, fingernails replaced by black-tipped claws four inches long. I'd need a lot more than a chiropractor if she got at me with those babies.

I tried to get to my feet, but she moved too fast. I had only made it up to an awkward crouch when she took a swipe at me with one of her claws. I felt them cut the air right in front of my face. When I glanced over her shoulder, I saw why she'd missed.

Odi had his arms wrapped around her waist and was hauling her backward while she continued to whip her claws back and forth uselessly.

After a half-dozen swipes, the demon realized what was holding her back. She twisted at the waist an impossible distance for a normal human. I heard the vertebrae pop as she turned until her upper body almost faced Odi straight on.

Odi's vampire reflexes had him out of her reach right before she stabbed at him. She would have ripped open his throat if he hadn't retreated.

But the motel room was no luxury suite. He didn't have far to go in the cramped space. He came up against the dresser and stopped short. The demon kept after him, technically walking backward since her lower body still faced me. This slowed her down, which gave me time enough to draw on my magic and call the air to assist me. I conjured a hard gust that curved around and hit the demon from the side.

She went down as if tackled by a linebacker.

I moved the wind again, lifted her off the floor, and slammed her against the ceiling. I maintained steady pressure to keep her pinned up there. The torrent of air whipped her neat bob into a ruffled mess. Her blouse rippled and pulled tightly against her torso. The toes of her backwards legs knocked against the ceiling, kicking up plaster dust that swirled away in the wind.

I gritted my teeth and pushed more power into the wind.

The ceiling began to crack around the demon as the pressure crushed her against it.

Her black eyes flashed at me. “You may destroy my host,” she said, her voice a ragged squeal, “but I am eternal.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I raised my hands as if commanding a congregation to its feet. “Tell the folks in hell I said howdy.” My vertical wind tunnel pressed against her even harder. A satisfying series of snaps rang out as her ribs caved inward. This was not the easiest way to kill a demon, but I didn't want to throw fire in such a small room. While the carpet and mattresses probably could use a good burn, I didn't want to risk setting the whole place alight. I was courteous that way.

“Dude,” Odi said. He stared up at her with his jaw hanging wide. “Dude.”

He'd seen me control the air all sorts of times, but he'd never seen a display like this. Hell, I'd never done anything like this.

More bones popped and cracked inside of her.

I clenched a fist and directed a more precise and especially violent blast of wind at her face. The front of her skull crackled like wrapping paper as it caved in.

The demon managed one last scream before her jawbone crumpled inward.

When her black eyes had turned to pools of blood and she stopped struggling, I cut my power. The wind died instantly.

The demon's ragged, twisted corpse dropped to the floor.

For a moment, she lay still. Odi and I stared down at her. Spending the massive amount of power I'd needed to create that torrent of wind had left me light-headed.

A thin wisp of black smoke rose off her body. It smelled like swamp water. It roiled upward, but faded before it reached the cracked ceiling. A few seconds later, the smoke dissipated entirely, as softly as a whisper.

Odi sniffed and made a gagging noise. “What the hell, dude?”

I shuffled over to the nearest bed and eased down onto the edge. “Demon possession.”

“Okay, yeah. But what the hell was she doing in the closet?”

I took a second to catch my breath. My homemade wind tunnel had taken more out of me than I'd realized. “This whole thing,” I said, “was a trap. The witches must have cast something on those guys from the restaurant, I'm guessing. Something that would lead here if anyone tried to magically track them like I did.”

“Then they left a present in the closet for whoever showed up looking.” Odi huffed. “Pretty smart.”

I dragged my hands down my face. “Yeah. Clever as hell. But now we're right back where we started.”

Chapter Nine

I'd promised to make up for skipping Odi's training the night before, and while I didn't feel much like playing Jedi master to his padawan, I didn't want to be a slacker either. Besides, I didn't know what else I'd do except obsess over another lost lead.

We went to our usual training ground—an abandoned school in the city. It wasn't a random pick. It was the same school where I had faced off with Detroit's former elder vampire, Logan Goulet. In fact, Odi and I used the gymnasium where that first meet had gone down. The place had echoes of memories that left my stomach feeling more hollow than usual. But it really was a perfect location to do what we needed to without causing a scene.

Though it smelled like rotting weeds and some long-dead critter.

That night I had a half-dozen mannequins set up in staggered rows stretching from one side of the gym to the other. They were all females, and when I'd set them up a couple days before, I had tried to inject some light into otherwise dark days, and purchased a pointed witch hat for each one.

I had also fashioned them with fleece shirts—something to burn.

Odi smirked as we entered the gym. The light from the torches I'd attached to the walls of the gym flickered across his face. “Har, har.”

“Meet the Maidens of Shadow,” I said. “Six of them at least. Pretty sure there's seven real ones.”

“And here I thought you'd lost your sense of humor.”

“Don't get used to it.”

I led the way to a line of masking tape I'd put on the floor. I pointed down at it. “Toes on the line.”

He took up position. “It's like a free-throw line.”

“Except you're throwing fire instead of basketballs.” I paced behind him, arms clasped behind my back. Not sure why. Guess it made me feel more mentor-y. “The objective is simple. Set the ladies on fire without knocking them over.”

Odi wrinkled his nose. “Um, what?”

The mannequins were each attached to a metal pole which was bolted to a crossed pair of two-by-fours each only a foot and a half long. Just enough to keep them upright as long as you didn't knock into one.

“This is an exercise in control. I know you can blow things up. But blowing things up should not be your regular go-to. You need to have some finesse. For example, if I'd decided to use flame against that demon, I would have had to show extreme control in order to keep from burning down the whole room.”

“That's why you used the wind instead?”

I nodded. “But we haven't gotten to wind with you yet. So you need to work on using the proper amount of power for any particular situation.”

He stared down the line of mannequins and pursed his lips. “I never did like tests,” he said. “One perk of turning into a vampire before I graduated. No SATs necessary.”

He tried to sound glib, but I heard the sadness below the surface. As such a fresh vampire, he still longed for his former life. And who could blame him? The vampire who had turned him (before abandoning him) had stolen Odi's mortal youth. It pained me to think about. I could only imagine how he felt.

“Try not to think of this as a test,” I said. “More like…a challenge.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, that makes me feel better.”

I patted him on the shoulder. “Just do your best.”

He nodded, rolled his shoulders, then held out his right hand.

A flame about the size of a pop can ignited in his palm. He took a deep breath, adjusted his stance, then tossed his fire at the closest faux witch.

I had spaced the witches in increasing distance from the line. The first two only stood about ten feet away. Easy targets, but still a challenge as Odi had to light 'em up without knocking them down, and too much oomph could end the challenge right there.

He struck the mannequin square in the chest. The fleece caught fire instantly. The mannequin wobbled on its stand, but remained upright.

“Nice,” I said.

Odi gave his head a cocky waggle. “Float like a butterfly…”

“Easy, Mr. Ali. You still have five more witches to go.”

He sniffed, pulled up another flame, and hit the second target set only a couple feet to the side and back from the first. Another direct hit. Another burn without knocking her down.

Odi pumped his fist. “Yes.”

The smell of burning fleece wafted over to us, blown by a breeze slipping under one of the doors that led from the gym to the back parking lot. I remembered Goulet and Fiona coming through that door. And Mom, in shackles that oppressed her magic.

“You aren't even close to done,” I said.

He glanced over his shoulder at me, brow furled. “Thanks for the encouragement, teach.”

I waved a hand at the remaining four targets. “Show me.”

He turned back, drew another bit of fire, not any larger than the first two. This time he had twenty-five feet to cross. I could already tell he was going to come up short.

He tossed his flame underhand as if bowling. The small comet of fire arced toward the target, but when it sailed downward, it landed four feet short and flashed against the dusty floor, then quickly petered out.

“What the hell was that?”

“Hey.” He looked over his shoulder at me. “I'm doing my best.”

“If that's your best…” I stopped short. Glanced at the door again. Saw Mom coming in with those golden cuffs around her wrists and the chain between them. I took a deep breath. “Try again.”

Odi chewed on his lip for a moment, then put his attention back on the targets.

My gaze kept floating back to the door. I remembered myself walking out through it against my will, commanded by Goulet's thrall. I remembered him leading me into the back of his limo. I remembered the feel of my rage and how it had fueled my magic, broke me from his control. And the buzz in my hand as I unloaded a pistol with silver rounds into his chest.

I clenched my fist. I was back in that moment.

Heat simmered around my hand. When I looked down, I saw the blue fire surrounding it.

Get ahold of yourself, for the gods' sake.

A flash of orange and an echoing clatter drew my attention away from my own fire. Odi had hit the target this time, but it lay on the floor, fully engulfed in flames.

“Shit,” he spat, then spun on his heel to face me. His gaze went down to my flaming hand. His eyes widened.

I swung my free hand out toward the flaming mannequin. “Are you ever going to learn control?”

Odi jerked back as if struck. Then his eyebrows drew together, and gestured toward my hand. “Are you?”

I lifted my flaming fist as if I meant to take a swing at him. In fact, I felt like taking that swing. Vampires didn't respond well to fire. He'd regret talking back to me like that.

“Sebastian,” he said slowly. “Don't take your frustration out on me. It isn't fair.”

I ground my teeth and took a deep breath. My blood felt like fire through my body, rushing to every end. I wanted to attack something. But not Odi. I already had enough trouble keeping my friends.

I shook my hand as if flinging off water. The flame went out. I turned my gaze to the melting mannequin on the floor. Its chest had turned to flesh-toned goo. Its witch hat had crumpled into ashes. I imagined she was a real Maiden. I reveled in the image.

“If you want to help me bring the Maidens to justice,” I said, “you need to do better.”

“I'm trying, damn it.”

I looked him hard in the eyes. “Try harder.”

He sneered. “Whatever, dude. I'm out.”

I watched him walk away. On his way to the outside door, he punched one of the mannequins hard enough to send it flying a good two dozen feet across the gym with a fist-sized hole in its belly.

I should have said something. Apologized. But I let him go.

He slammed the door behind him, and it rang like a broken bell, the sound echoing in the corners of the gymnasium.

Chapter Ten

I gave Odi a few minutes to clear out before I left the building myself. The breeze outside was warm. A jungle-like smell came off the overgrown fields surrounding the school. Crickets chirruped in the tall grass.

It was only three in the morning, which, on my vampire schedule, was the middle of the afternoon for me. But I felt wiped. Between fighting the demon at the motel and the constant tension tugging my nerves straight, I had every right to take a nap. I didn't have anything else better to do.

I glanced around the dark lot on my way to my car, hoping maybe Odi had hung back, and I could put things right between us. No sign of him, though. While I had driven us both to the school, Odi didn't necessarily need a ride home. Vampires were fast runners.

I climbed into my Jetta, slid the key into the ignition, then leaned back and sighed. In the corner of my vision I saw something move in the rear-view mirror. My fatigue blew apart as adrenaline ripped through my system. I gathered my magic on instinct. The feel of its energy buzzed in my bones.

“Sebastian,” a familiar woman's voice said from the back seat.

I adjusted the rear view to see her directly.

Fiona.

First thing I noticed was that she had cut her hair. The blond locks used to hang to the middle of her back. Now it barely brushed her shoulders. It looked nice, and I hated that I thought it looked nice.

I kept my magic at the ready. “What the hell are you doing in my car?”

“I wanted to make sure you'd have to talk to me.”

“You think I can't just blow you out the back window?”

I watched her reflection as she pressed her lips together and thought for a moment. “I'm hoping you won't.”

“My memory is fuzzy. Didn't I say I'd kill you if you came near me ever again?”

“Sebastian, please.” She leaned forward, out of view of the mirror, but I sensed her close to my ear. I could smell her coconut shampoo. “This is important. It's bigger than our…relationship.”

I clenched my teeth. “We don't have a relationship.”

“You know what I meant.”

“I want you to leave now.”

“I can't. You have to hear me out.”

Fiona was a shifter. And, like sorcerers, shifters could sense magical energy when it built. I pumped some more power into mine so that it radiated through the entire car.

Fiona drew back. Her reflection returned to the rear-view mirror. I saw the worry in her eyes and liked it more than I liked her new hair style.

“You wouldn't really hurt me,” she said.

“I've been hurting a lot of people lately. I killed three guys just last night, in fact.”

Her eyes narrowed. The wheels in her mind turned, trying to decide if I was serious or not. “Maybe that's a good thing.”

I snorted. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“It means we need someone like you. Someone strong. Someone with similar goals.”

I held up my hands. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. You already tried to recruit me for your damn mission against the Ministry conspirators. And we both know how that turned out. Your Ministry pals are all dead.”

“Not all.”

“The bastards won, Fiona. The coup worked. The Detroit Ministry has a new regime, and from what I can tell, the Global Ministry Faction doesn't give a flying flip.”

“You're right,” she said. “They've written Detroit off. We're a lost cause. And if the new regime has their way, we are all truly lost.”

“I'd like nothing more than to see those bastards get what's coming to them, but I have my own cause. We don't have similar goals.”

“You don't think taking out the Maidens of Shadow is part of our plan?”

I twisted in my seat to look at her directly. “Whose plan?”

She spoke low, as if she thought someone might be listening in. “The resistance.”

I groaned and pressed my palm against my forehead. “Are you fucking kidding me? The resistance? What is this? Star Wars?”

“Call it whatever you want. It is what it is.”

“Well, thank you for the invite, but I'm not much of a joiner. Don't worry. I'll take care of the Maidens. You and your new friends just need to stay the fuck out of my way.”

“Do you even know where they are?”

“Do you?”

She eased back in the seat and sighed. “No. But we have some good people working to find out.”

“If they find them before I do, let me know. I'll be happy to take care of those bitches. Besides, they have something of mine I want back.”

The sad look she gave me made me feel judged. I didn't see sympathy. I saw pity. “Your soul.”

“Yeah. That. So like I said, let me know if you find them, then back the fuck off.”

She leaned forward again and put her hand on my shoulder. “You can't take them on alone.”

I shrugged her hand away, threw open the car door, and sprung out. I marched to the back door on the driver's side, yanked that one open, and glared in at Fiona.

“Get out.”

“Be reasonable.”

“Get. Out.”

In the car's dome light, I could see her cheeks flushing. She stared arrows at me. “I'm not leaving until—”

I had a whole bunch of magic ready, so it took only a second for me to grasp control of the air. I drew a gust from behind her and blew her out the open door.

She rolled along the cracked asphalt a couple times, then quickly sprung to her feet. Tiger fur rolled up from her neck to her jaw line, instincts telling her to shift. But she pulled herself together and the fur rippled away.

“You've got a lot of nerve.” I could almost hear the tiger in her voice.

“You're the one who invaded my car. How did you really expect this to go?”

“I thought you'd listen to reason.”

“You're the voice of reason? The woman who betrayed me to a group of vampires? Who betrayed my mother? Who made me fall in love with her just to spy on me?”

Her face pinched, all the anger drained from her expression. “I can't take any of that back. I know. But they had my mother. And they killed her when I turned against them to help you.”

The breeze sighed through the tall grass. The night carried the sound of distant traffic. A clammy sweat had risen on my skin, making the air feel cooler than it was. Some of the fight drained out of me. I didn't want to talk to Fiona anymore. I didn't want to see her anymore. Rehashing our fucked-up history made me tired and sick to my stomach.

“Tell your resistance I'm not interested. End of discussion.”

She opened her mouth as if to argue, but closed it again and hung her head.

I waited a few seconds longer, but no more. I slammed the car's back door closed, got in behind the wheel, and started the engine.

I drove off without looking back, only readjusting the rear-view mirror when I had rounded the school and knew I wouldn't catch a glimpse of her reflection.

Chapter Eleven

By the time I reached home, I had gone from exhausted to wired. My little encounter with Fiona had given my nerves an unwelcome jolt. There was no sign of Odi at the house, so I couldn't offer him an apology for my boneheaded tantrum. I gave the TV a glance, but finding something I actually wanted to watch seemed like too much work.

I decided to go for a walk.

At four AM, Corktown was mostly still asleep. There were a few lights on among the houses lining my street. In this part of Detroit, I wasn't the only one on a vampire's schedule. The Ministry had worked to turn Corktown into a neighborhood for those of us in the paranormal community, a place to relax a little and not have to worry about what your neighbor might see, since your neighbors had their own magical secrets.

I wondered if the project would get scrapped under the Ministry's new leadership. The more I heard, the less concerned they sounded about keeping order between the natural and supernatural—their primary purpose in the first place. That train of thought brought me back to Fiona. She kept putting herself in the middle of this conflict. To what end? Redemption? Apparently, no one besides me gave a damn that she was a traitor. Hell, for all anyone knew, she planned to sell out this “resistance” to the new regime. They were idiots to trust her.

Not my problem, though.

I shoved thoughts of Fiona aside and tried to focus on my own mission. I needed to find another lead on the Maidens. Not long ago, I would have visited the Switch, a paranormal bar that had existed on its own plane of reality. The owner, Barry, had known all the goings on in our community, and had given me countless tips during my demon hunting days. But then the vampire riots happened, and a group of the bloodsuckers had trashed the bar and murdered Barry.

No such watering hole had replaced the Switch since then as far as I knew. Not that anything could really replace it. Barry's had been a one of a kind bar. He had even served vamps with a variety of fresh animal blood—pigs, cows, rats.

I was so lost in my thoughts, I didn't notice the shadows closing in until they surrounded me. Shadows darker than the night could conjure. Shadows that would occasionally blink yellow eyes and titter as they curled and rode the air. They formed a U around me, blocking me off from the direction I'd come. They were so thick, I couldn't see anything beyond them, as if the world simply stopped where they stood.

The chill emanating from them made me shiver. My stomach clenched.

They continued to close in while keeping the way forward open as if they wanted to corral me like a wild horse.

I raised my right hand and called fire around my fist.

The shadows quivered and giggled.

I threw the fire into their dark wall. It seemed to fly into infinity, growing ever smaller until a pin prick of blue light disappeared.

“Aw, shit.” I scuffled backward.

A half-dozen yellow eyes opened and winked at me from the blackness. Then closed and disappeared.

I turned toward the opening they left, knowing that was exactly what they wanted me to do. But I didn't want to get any closer to this mass of nothingness. If it touched me, I thought I might fall for an eternity within, like my fire ball had seemed to.

I took off in a steady jog, the skin on the back of my neck prickling. I could feel the shadows following behind me, a cold wave preceding them. The shadows at my sides also kept pace. When I reached the next intersection, the shadows shifted around me with a sound like wind tugging at a flag. They forced me to make a right.

I kept to the middle of the street. I had little choice. The shadows to either side of me rode along the curbs.

Then, up ahead, a pair of headlights turned in my direction. I waved my hands above my head, though they could hardly miss me. The car came to a halt, a little Ford Escort from another age. The man behind the wheel rolled down his window.

“What's your problem?”

I realized the chill that had pressed in against me from the surrounding shadows had faded. I glanced around. No sign of them. The residential street looked perfectly normal, and fully in view. The car's headlights cut easily through normal darkness in the direction I'd come.

I turned back to the guy. “Can you give me a lift?”

He scrunched up his face. “Are you kidding? Get the fuck outta my way.” He revved his engine and jolted the car a couple feet in my direction, his bumper coming close to my knees.

I didn't move. “Listen, buddy. There's…” I stole a look over my shoulder as if the living shadows might have returned. “There's someone after me.”

The guy laid on his horn. “Move it, or I'll run you down. I ain't kidding.”

I thought about giving him a little fire show, but I had no way of knowing if he was one of us. So far, on the street level, Ministry Law still ruled. I didn't need a visit from any guardians looking to put me on trial for breaking those laws.

That will be the least of your worries if those shadows come back and consume you.

I figured I'd try the nice way one more time. “I'm serious,” I said. “There is someone after me. I'm afraid for my life.”

“And I'm afraid for mine, psycho.” He backed up, squeaking his tires, then sped around me and down the street.

I snapped my gaze from shadow to shadow, waiting for one of them to move unnaturally. A handful of seconds passed without any signs of the dark misbehaving.

I let out a long sigh and started for the sidewalk.

The shadows against the facade of the nearest house peeled away and flowed toward me like liquid night. I scrambled backward into the street again. I spun around. More shadows closed in from the other side. And here came more, joining together to cut me off from heading home again.

Yellow eyes flickered in a random pattern like a string of Christmas lights from hell.

The skin on the back of my neck rippled with gooseflesh. My gut squeezed into a tight ball.

“What the hell do you want with me?”

Giggling, like children on a playground, echoed back at me. A single yellow eye the size of a baseball opened in the dark and stared at me. It rolled up and down, the black pupil in the middle scanning the length of me.

I staggered backward, turned, and started jogging again. What choice did I have?

The shadows escorted me through a couple more intersections until they forced me into the front lot of a church. The street lights never once chased them away. And once I was in the lot, they formed a complete circle around me and slowly closed in.

I didn't normally suffer from claustrophobia, but eternal darkness blotting out everything except the patch of concrete I stood on let me know exactly how it felt. My breathing rushed in and out so quickly my lungs ached, and I felt lightheaded.

I kept waiting for them to swallow me completely, but they kept just enough distance to avoid touching me.

“What do you want?” I shouted. The collected darkness muffled my voice as if I stood in a soundproofed room. But a couple seconds after my question, the shadows ripped open and fled in a whirl like a flock of crows, disappearing into the night sky.

I watched them go. When I lowered my gaze, a familiar young woman stared at me from her stance on the church's front steps.

“Hello, Sebastian.”

A prickling heat rose up my back and melted away any chill that the living shadows had left behind.

“Kimber.”

She wore a pair of skinny jeans and a Wayne State University sweatshirt. Her mousey brown hair was tied back in a ponytail. Dark circles hung under her eyes. The mix of street- and moonlight gave her skin a waxy pallor. I could tell she hadn't been sleeping well. Which made my day.

“That was quite a show of power,” I said and pointed toward the sky.

She smirked. “There's a reason people call us the most powerful coven in the Midwest. It isn't because of parlor tricks like your fire.”

“I seem to recall my fire wasting two of you witches.”

Her smirk dropped away. Score one point for me.

She hesitated a second, then said, “This needs to stop.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“Your quest to come after us. It must end.”

I held my hands out. “Then end it.”

She curled her hands into fists. About twenty feet stood between us. I wondered if she could hex me from that distance before one of my fireballs reached her. What was the deal with this high noon bullshit? Had the Maidens really sent only one of their crew to take me down in a fucking duel?

Hadn't they learned not to underestimate me?

“I didn't come here to kill you,” she said. “I came to warn you.”

“Oh, yeah? Do tell.”

“We're giving you one last chance. Break off your pursuit, or we will retaliate.”

I tilted my head to one side. “That's it?”

“What more is there? We are not responsible for your mother's death. You are the one who dragged her into danger. You were the one who traded your shard of soul for Sly's. Our dealings had nothing to do with you, until you made it so.”

I lanced a finger in her direction. “You're the ones who killed Sly in the first place.”

She shook her head. “You know better than that. Sly gave us his soul willingly. Our ritual had nothing to do with his illness. You know that.”

“He would have been fine if he'd had his whole soul.”

She lowered her gaze. The sigh of the city's traffic had grown more persistent. A hint of dawn lit the distance.

“He gave us his soul willingly,” she repeated so softly I almost didn't hear her. Then she lifted her gaze and straightened her posture. “We understand why this is difficult for you. That is the only reason you're still alive. We wish to let bygones be bygones.”

“You have got to be kidding me.” I raked my hands through my hair. My eyeballs throbbed in time to my pulse. “You murdered my mother!”

“We defended ourselves.”

The edges of my vision turned red. A pressure in my chest made it hard to breathe. The air I could suck down tasted bitter.

“This is a peace offering?”

“Like I said. It's a warning. Walk away and we'll live and let live.”

I worked my lips together while I tried to put together the right words in my head. “That's a tempting offer.”

She narrowed her eyes. I guess I hadn't sounded too convincing. “It's one you should take.”

“Can I think about it?”

Her shoulders drooped. “You don't need to think about it. You're either going to do the smart thing right now and say, 'Yes, Kimber. I'll leave you alone.' Or you're going to sign up for suicide. What is there to think about?”

I nodded and started walking toward her. “You're right. I can't take you all on.”

“So that's a yes?”

I continued to close the distance. “There's nothing to say I won't promise to stop bugging you, then turn around later and wipe you ladies out.”

She chuffed. “You could try, anyway.”

When I reached the foot of the stone steps, I held up my hand toward her. “I could make a blood oath. Then I wouldn't be able to turn on you, no matter how I felt about it.”

Kimber raised an eyebrow. “You'd be willing to do that?”

“Yes,” I said. “I'm tired. Tired of being so angry all the time. Tired of pushing away the people I care about because of this…obsession. If the Maidens of Shadow truly mean to put this all behind us, I'm willing to do the same.”

She sighed, then smiled. “I'm honestly surprised to hear that. Relieved. But surprised.”

I laughed quietly. “Me, too.” I raised my hand a little further. “You're a black witch, you should have something on you to make me bleed, right?”

“Blood is an important ingredient for our magic.” She smiled, reached into her back pocket, and withdrew a red Swiss Army knife. She unfolded its largest blade, took my wrist in her free hand, then looked in my eyes. “You ready?”

“I've been ready for a long time.”

I lit the hand she held with blue flame. The fire burned so hot it turned her own hand into a blackened stump in seconds.

She screamed and drew back. The knife tumbled and clattered on the church's stone porch. Kimber's eyes flashed as she locked her gaze on me. She opened her mouth, probably to spit some kind of curse, but I'd never know for sure, because the next blue comet of fire I hurled burned through her throat before she could speak.

Her head lilted to one side, her brain stem and spinal column the only thing keeping it from rolling away completely.

Her body shook and jerked, her nervous system in denial of her death.

I took a step back as she flopped over and rolled down the steps. I had now killed two Maidens of Shadow on stairs.

I took a moment to watch her burn, then used my magic to tame the fire and snuff it out. There was nothing left of her ears, but her blackened skull still remained, so I pried loose one of her molars and tucked it into my pocket.

I turned on my heel and stalked away.

“Offer not accepted,” I said to the night.

Chapter Twelve

I woke up the following afternoon at three o'clock. An hour later, I approached my mother's grave with Kimber's tooth in my pocket. I had a theory I wanted to test. When I stood beside Mom's grave, I reached out with my senses, searching for any sign of magical energy. Sure enough, I touched a low hum that surrounded the grave site. The energy sent a faint vibration through my spine.

The sky was overcast. The chilly air penetrated my coat. I wished like hell the real spring weather would come soon. I was tired of shivering.

I only stood there about a minute before the spell surrounding the grave pulsed. My ears popped. A brief pressure pushed against my chest, staggering me. Then I sensed a new magical presence behind me, one a hundred times stronger than what circled Mom's grave. I knew before I turned who I'd find.

Urvasi smiled as our eyes met. Today she wore a pink sari. Her dark hair hung in a braid draped over one shoulder a lot like how Mom used to wear her hair. Not that it meant anything. Lots of people braided their hair that way. But I couldn't shake the feeling it was more significant than a coincidence.

“Hello, Sebastian.”

“Hi.”

She inclined her head toward the ground at my feet. “I see you figured out how to summon me.”

“I gathered you had set some kind of trigger here. But I still don't know how you show up so quickly.”

“I've learned how to walk between worlds.” Her smile turned a bit mischievous. “Something you could learn, too, if you let me teach you.”

“Thanks for the offer, but that's not why I came here.”

Her gaze roved up and down me as if searching for something. Her smile dropped away. “What darkness are you carrying in your pocket?”

I dug the tooth out and extended my hand toward Urvasi with the molar in my palm. “It's what I wanted to see you about.”

She wrinkled her nose and curled her lip. “What a horrible thing to possess.”

“You know what it is?”

“I know it belongs to someone with a black heart. It reeks of wicked magic.”

“Good call. It belongs to a black witch. More specifically, it came from the mouth of one of the Maidens of Shadow.”

Now Urvasi's eyes grew wide. She stared so hard at the tooth I half-expected it to burst into flames. I did feel a tingling across my palm, but I thought that was Urvasi reaching with her senses to examine the tooth more closely in a magical sense.

“You killed this witch?” she asked.

“Yes.”

Her wide gaze lifted to meet my eyes. “And you're proud of this act?”

The judgment in her voice made me hot around the collar. “How much do you know about my mother's murder?”

“Only a little. I do know that the Maidens of Shadow played a part. Or, at least, that was the rumor.”

“It's no rumor. Those bitches killed her, and I have every intention of returning the favor.”

“A dangerous path.”

I curled my fingers closed around the tooth and lowered my hand to my side. “If you're planning to lecture me, don't bother. I have every right to vengeance.”

She pursed her lips, and the hardness in her eyes softened. “Perhaps. But revenge seldom ends well.”

“I don't expect it to end well. I don't want it to. Not for the Maidens, anyway.”

Her short laugh startled me.

“This coven you are so eager to face has ten generations of black magic in their blood. You are a young sorcerer with little control over his power.”

I clenched my teeth. “I have enough. I've already killed three of them.”

“I doubt they'll allow any more one-on-one confrontations. As a group, you don't stand a chance against them.”

The overcast sky had darkened. I could smell rain in the air. The breeze ruffled my hair and chilled my scalp. I tucked my hands in my coat pockets. A sharp edge of Kimber's tooth poked against my right palm.

“Look, I appreciate all your doom and gloom predictions, but I need your help.”

Her eyebrows went up. She cocked her head to one side. “Oh, really?”

“The last time I tried to track down the Maidens with magic, I ended up tussling with a demon. It was a fake out. I doubt I'll have different results with this tooth. But a sorcerer with your level of power—”

She held up her hand. “Stop.”

The command in her voice shut me right up.

“I wish to help you,” she said. “But not on a fool's quest. I can feel the anger inside of you. It has served you so far, perhaps. But it will master you before long.”

My thoughts tripped back to the restaurant, to the moment when I had put a little too much power behind my fire, to the aftermath with no one left to question.

“If it hasn't already,” Urvasi added as if seeing into my thoughts.

“I just need to know where they are. You don't have to worry about what happens after that.”

“But I do. I promised your mother I would care for you.” A sad smile touched her face. “I imagine this was the very kind of thing she worried about.”

I took an involuntary step forward. “Don't speak for my Mom. I don't care if you were friends or not. You don't know her like I do.”

“I never said I did. But ask yourself, do you believe she would approve of this crusade of yours?”

The answer was obvious, but I batted the thought away. She deserved to have her killers brought to justice, whether she would have approved of it or not.

“I see,” Urvasi said, again as if peering into my mind. “You've made up your mind.”

“That's right.” I pulled my hand out of my pocket and held the tooth out to her again. “Mom wanted you to watch out for me? Prove it. Help me.”

Urvasi laughed and shook her head. “I come as your teacher, not your slave. I will not help you with…” Her expression soured. “That.”

“Then I have no use for you.” I turned away.

“Sebastian,” she called.

I stopped but didn't turn.

“Should you change your mind, you need only return here.”

“I'd rather you left me alone to mourn my mother in peace.”

“Of course,” she said. “I'll only come if you call.”

I huffed. “Don't count on hearing from me.”

When she didn't answer, I looked over my shoulder.

She was gone.

Chapter Thirteen

Around five o'clock, with a couple hours to kill until I could wake Odi up, I grabbed some jambalaya at Slows BAR-B-QUE on Michigan Avenue, right in Corktown. It was one of many hip cafés and eateries in that part of the city. I thought about ordering one of the fifty some-odd craft beers they had on tap, but I didn't want to feel sluggish for the rest of the night. I had plans.

I decided I would take the tooth to my neighbor, Gladys. She was a white witch Mom had become fast friends with when we'd moved into the Corktown house. Gladys had a massive collection of magical texts, and Mom had loved spending time with someone who shared her passion for paranormal history.

I wasn't sure she had the skills to get around whatever magic the Maidens were using to throw off any spell that could lead to them. I also had my doubts that Gladys would help. White witches didn't tend to go looking for the black kind. The two sects were more oil and water than yin and yang.

Still, it was worth a shot.

I had parked around the corner. As I strolled down the sidewalk outside Slows, my thoughts were everywhere except on my surroundings. I didn't notice the forest green SUV parked at the curb, or register its back door opening, until the two guys that came out of the vehicle had flanked me from behind.

They each gripped one of my arms and yanked me to a stop.

I instinctively tried to break free, but they held strong. I was lean, but I wasn't a weakling. These guys, though? Bruisers, through and through. Each probably had more muscle in one arm than I did in most of my body.

I glanced back and forth between them. One of them had a long, pointed beard that sort of curled up at the end. He wore a pair of reflective sunglasses. His lips were barely visible under his mustache.

The other guy had a shaved head with a lightning bolt tattooed down the center of his scalp. He had a ring through one nostril. His breath smelled like bubblegum, which must have been what he was chomping on.

The guy with the lightning bolt said, “Take 'er easy, mate. He just wants a visit.”

“Who wants a visit?”

He chewed his gum for a moment before he hitched a shoulder. “You'll see.”

I tried tugging loose again, mostly to show I had no intention of cooperating, since I knew I couldn't actually get free. “I'd rather not.”

The bearded guy chuckled. When he smiled, I noted that all four of his front teeth were made of gold. His smile might have shined, but it was still damn ugly.

“You gonna wanna see our man,” Lightning Bolt said. “He's right important.”

“I don't care if he's the fucking president,” I said. “You need to let me go.”

“Or what?”

I looked around. No one on the sidewalk. Thin traffic on the street at the moment. Across the street, a couple strolled down the walk with their arms hooked together. I could cry for help, I figured. Maybe the couple would dial 911 for me. Or they'd give me a strange look and walk faster.

“Or,” I said, “I'll have to hurt you.”

They both laughed, a pair of gibbering idiots.

I sighed. “Hard way, it is.”

I drew upon my power, glanced across the street. The couple was far enough down, they had their backs to us. A couple of cars cruised down the street toward us. I decided not to make too much of a scene. Wind would work well for that.

I conjured twin gusts that pushed out from me and plowed against my chuckling escorts. Their strong grips nearly ripped my arms from my sockets as they both flew in opposite directions. Their holds slipped before they could do too much damage, though.

Lightning Bolt, on my left, slammed into the facade of Astro Coffee and bounced off the front window, thankfully not breaking the glass. The few patrons inside the cafe all turned their heads to look with shocked expressions.

Lightning Bolt flailed his arms, but failed to keep his balance and he hit the pavement at my feet.

The Bearded One sailed away to my right and hit a compact car parked at the curb, shaking the vehicle hard enough to set off its alarm. He landed on his ass, legs spread in front of him, and shook his head as if trying to clear the stars floating around him like a cartoon character.

Wasting no time, I leapt over Lightning Bolt and made a run for it. I reached the corner, and my boots scraped against the concrete as I twisted to round the corner. My car was parked across the street, in front of the Irish American Club. I'd never been so glad to see my Jetta.

I had no sooner stepped off the curb, when something hot and hard struck me in the center of the back. My arms pinwheeled while I flew off my feet. I landed flat on my face in the middle of the street. My chin knocked the cement and suffered a stinging case of road burn as my body skidded to a halt.

I rolled onto my back.

A looming form blocked the already cloud-screened sun. When he bent down, his bearded face came into focus. He waved a flaming hand in front of my face. The heat dried my skin and made my cheeks feel tight like stretched leather.

“You're not the only elementalist in D-Town, little buddy.”

The prickling hot pain on my back made sudden sense. He'd hit me with a fireball.

That's my trick, damn it!

At least my rolling onto my back seemed to have suffocated any lingering flame. And while it did hurt, it didn't hurt as much as it would have had I thrown the fire. Which meant he'd gone easy on me.

“You ready to simmer down?” he asked.

I turned my head back in the direction I'd run. Lightning Bolt staggered my way. I didn't see anyone else. We had this short patch of street to ourselves.

I ignited both hands with flame and reached for his beard. I planned on giving it a good yank with one flaming hand and slap my other hand against his face.

He dodged back.

My hands grasped at empty air.

He rolled his wrists as if stretching out before sitting at a piano and knocking out a concerto. A prickle of magic filled the air. Then wind whipped around me, lifted me off the ground a good ten feet, then reversed direction and slammed me to the ground.

The back of my head knocked hard against the pavement. A gray film drew across my vision and threatened to turn black. Spots floated through my sight.

That would leave a mark, I thought as I floundered on the edge of consciousness.

The Bearded One bent over me. My flames had gone out, but I scrabbled at his face with my fingers.

He grinned. “Rest easy,” he said and jabbed me with a hard-knuckled fist.

My ears rang as I fell into darkness. Then…

Nothing.

Chapter Fourteen

I woke up shivering, naked, and curled up on a cold, smooth floor. My head ached, and my vision was blurry, but after I blinked a few times, my sight cleared up. And my head didn't hurt nearly as badly as it should have.

I prodded the back of my skull where I'd hit it against the concrete. I expected at least a split scalp, if not a soft spot. My fingers traced a thin, rough line of scabbing, as if the wound had already been healing for a while. I suspected magic. But whose?

I pushed myself up to my hands and knees. Vertigo rushed through my head, making the floor tilt. Nausea tickled the back of my throat. I stared at the floor between my hands to give myself a moment to recover. Parquet floor, waxed and shiny. Like a dance floor. Curiosity rushed me to look up before I was totally ready. Pain lanced through my temples. My stomach lurched. I swallowed back the urge to puke and gritted my teeth against the agony ping-ponging in my skull.

“What the hell?”

I was in the middle of a dance floor in a freaking ballroom. On either side of the parquet floor dozens of round tables draped with thick, white tablecloths filled the room. A well-stocked bar took up one corner. The air smelled like fake lemon, probably from whatever they cleaned the floors with. A crystal chandelier hung above my head with a diameter at least half the length of my Jetta. At the moment, it was the only source of light. The sconces along the walls were dark. The light from above drew a bright circle in the center of gray shadows.

Slowly, I rose to my feet. I suffered another touch of dizziness, but I stayed standing. The ballroom was cool enough to raise gooseflesh across most parts of my naked body. I rubbed my arms to work some heat into them.

Where the fuck were my clothes?

I took a quick glance around. I found them neatly folded on one of the chairs pulled away from a nearby table.

I did another scan of the ballroom. Looked like I was the only person there.

“Whatever,” I muttered and headed for my clothes.

I made it three steps before I thumped my nose into an invisible wall. The impact sent the drummer in my head into an encore. I took a step back and looked down with a hunch I'd know what I'd find.

Sure enough, a circle of black ash about ten paces in diameter surrounded me. My grogginess had kept me from both seeing it and sensing the magical energy crackling along the line. I held out my hand and tapped my power to create a flame. My palm tingled a little, but that was it. Whoever had grabbed me had cast a circle around me that nullified my own magic.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

I turned slowly in my transparent cage. “Hello?” I shouted. “I'm up. Tell me what the fuck you want from me.”

I got silence in response.

I growled under my breath and paced once around the circle. Then I tried to shove my toe against the ash, but the barrier sat just within the circle. Only someone on the outside would be able to brush the ash aside. Interesting choice, ash. Part of me wondered what kind of ash. Another part of me thought I already knew. You couldn't find too many magical substances more potent than vampire dust.

Another couple minutes went by while I paced some more, feeling some serious empathy for zoo animals, then one of a set of four doors on one side of the ballroom opened.

Two familiar faces strode in—Lightning Bolt and the Bearded One. They walked side-by-side. A man in a black robe came in after them. He had his hood up, so I couldn't make out his face as he came toward me. Just a hint of his chin and his light-brown skin tone.

I watched them approach. I would have preferred some clothes for this meeting, but I didn't cower or try to cover myself. If these guys insisted on keeping me naked, they would just have to deal with my junk hanging out for all to see.

Unlike when they had assaulted me outside Slows, Lightning Bolt and the Bearded One wore stone-cold serious expressions. I thought I even sensed a bit of reverence in their posture and movement. The guy behind them must have carried some importance to them. The boss man, I assumed.

I held out my hands. “Is the nudity a must here? I'm not much of an exhibitionist.”

All three ignored me. In fact, they didn't so much as twitch at my words, as if they hadn't heard me. I would have thought the magic circle kept in sound as well as my body, but the echo of my voice in the far corners of the ballroom said differently.

The assholes would get to me when they were damn ready.

Just another tactic to show me who was in control.

When the trio reached the dance floor, my old buddies split apart and stopped. The guy in the robes continued his approach between them. He stopped a couple of feet from the circle and drew back his hood.

I'd never seen the guy before. He had dark hair and a young face. A thin, wispy attempt at a mustache dirtied his upper lip. He had thick, dark eyebrows that formed a stern line above his dark and intense eyes. His gaze made my skin crawl. All at once, I felt self-conscious about my nakedness. Especially when his gaze roved downed, and a small smile touched his lips.

“Nice to see you, Mr. Light.” His eyes lifted to meet mine. “I see my reputation has yet to precede me. That will change.”

“If you say so.” I cupped my hands over my bits. “In the meantime, why don't you tell me who the fuck you are?”

His presence was so imposing his escorts might as well have left the room. In that moment, they didn't exist.

“I am Detroit's new prefect,” the man said. “Ignazio Orosco.”

I stared at him, mouth hanging open. “Are you serious?”

His smile broadened. “Quite.”

That kind of knocked me off my stride. Not at all what I had expected. Left me speechless while my thoughts raced to make sense of this weird situation.

“I can tell you have many questions.”

“A few.”

“Let me cover the most obvious,” he said. He turned toward Lightning Bolt, whose tattooed pate shined in the chandelier's glow. “I'd like to sit, Elton.”

Elton—though I preferred Lightning Bolt—nodded quickly, hurried to grab a metal framed chair at a nearby table, and scurried back with it. He set the chair directly behind Orosco, then speed-walked back to his spot ten feet off to one side.

Orosco eased into the chair. Under the cover of his robe, he crossed one leg over another. He rested his folded hands in his lap. His gaze roved over my naked body again.

“You have a nice physique,” he said. “Lean but hard. It's impossible to tell because of my robe, but I have a similar build. It's the kind of body that’s easily underestimated.”

My face flushed under his scrutiny. “If you're done admiring me, maybe you could get back to those answers you owe me.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Owe you? No, Mr. Light. The only thing I owe you is a slow death. You have pissed me off more than once with your meddling. I almost didn't make it to my new position.”

“Well, I'm sorry about that.”

He hummed. “I'm sure you are. Anyway.” He smoothed his hands down his robe. “First question. Why have I brought you here?”

He made it sound like he wanted me to provide the answer. “I haven't a clue.”

“I want you, Sebastian. May I call you Sebastian?”

I was too hung up on his words I want you to care what the hell he called me.

He took my silence as permission. “Okay, then. Sebastian it is.” He pointed at me and smiled. “I'm like Uncle Sam. I want you.”

With the way he was checking me out, I didn't know how I should interpret that phrase. But I assumed it didn't mean he wanted to jump my bones.

“Want me for what?”

“For your amazing talents. And for your…” He rolled a hand in the air. “…your special condition.”

Oh, gods, here we went again. At the mere mention of my vamp blood infected state, the brand on my shoulder that kept me from turning tingled. I almost reached to scratch at it, but it would have meant exposing myself.

“What good is that to you?”

“I have a theory,” he said and uncrossed his legs. He placed his hands flat on his thighs and leaned forward as if he meant to tell me a secret. “I've heard rumors that your blood offers something extra for any vampire who gets a taste. Many, many vampires believe it.”

It wasn't a rumor. It was true. After Odi's old mentor, Toft Kitchens, turned to dust, I had taken it upon myself to care for Odi. Part of that meant keeping him fed. And I did that by offering him my own blood. It didn't take nearly as much of mine to keep him sustained as a regular mortal's would. Plus, I had noticed Odi's magical abilities were a little sharper directly after a meal.

I didn't know the details of how my mixed blood worked for average vamps, but something obviously made it special.

Of course, I didn't need to tell Orosco that.

“It's bullshit,” I said. “Like you said. Just a rumor.”

He pursed his lips and slowly shook his head. “I don't think so.”

“You think I give a fuck what you think? Better yet, did you really think I would volunteer for your cause? Because I'm not a joiner. I have no dog in this fight.”

“But you do. Quite a big, shaggy dog, in fact.”

“What are you talking about?”

“My sweet friends, the Maidens of Shadow.” He frowned, though it kind of looked like a pout, too. “What's left of them, at least.”

I laughed. Couldn't help it. “Their numbers do seem to be dwindling.”

Orosco popped to his feet and closed the distance, putting the toes of his black leather shoes only a couple of inches from the circle of ash. Even through the barrier, I could feel his power thrumming. An angry power. Hot. And familiar.

He glared at me, his intense eyes sending a cold ripple up my back.

“I'm sorry,” I said. “Did I hurt your feelings?”

“You are the proverbial thorn. But I want to give you a chance to find your rose, because a thorn is nothing without its rose.”

“Very poetic.”

He drew in a deep breath then let it ease out his nose. The scalding energy emanating from him cooled. “I don't like being mocked.”

“Surprising, since it's so easy. You should be used to it, I'd think.”

He pressed his lips together. I could practically hear him counting down from ten in his head. “I could keep you in this cage until you starve.”

“Might make for an awkward wedding reception with a naked guy in the middle of the dance floor.”

“I own this place. I could close it down without care. I could let it crumble until it buried your dried-out corpse for eternity.”

“Seems like a waste for such a nice venue.”

His lips parted. He meant to say something, but held back, course corrected, and smiled. “We can get along, Sebastian. In fact, I think we will once I explain your role in the future of the New Ministry.”

“That's what you're calling it?”

“The city's vampires are still upset by Markus Hope's failure to hold up our end of the bargain we had with them. They expected a paradise of mortal servitude. A limitless source of sustenance out in the open.”

“Still don't know how you all thought that would work.”

“It would have,” he said then pointed at me. “If not for you.”

I smiled but said nothing.

“As I said, many of our undead friends have come to the conclusion that the Unturned is their salvation. You've taken on an iconic status among them.”

First I had heard about that. Most of the vamps I'd run into seemed to think I was some kind of affront to their kind. “Not the impression I've gotten.”

“The tide has turned. Without a true elder, the vampires are lost. The next eldest vampire in this city is barely two-hundred years old.”

I hung my head and laughed softly. “You expect me to rise up as their leader and keep them in line for you?”

“Is it really so strange? You have a unique opportunity. You could tame the vampire population in Detroit. Make it a safer city from the worst kind of predators.”

Out of the blue, I thought of Odi. I knew not all vampires were wicked monsters. But I couldn't fool myself into thinking most of them weren't. Did this douche really think becoming the vampire version of the Pied Piper was a tempting enough proposition for me to join them, the very group who had made a deal with the Maidens of Shadow to kill numerous high ranking members of Detroit's Ministry? A group that had a relationship with the witches responsible for killing my mother?

“You're out of your fucking mind,” I said.

“Don't let your personal feelings get in the way of this opportunity. You could be instrumental in the New Ministry's mission to make Detroit a better place for its innocent mortals.”

“That what you thought when you planned on feeding those innocent mortals to the vamps?”

“Not all of us played a role in that. Most of us were in it for the long game. With the vampires appeased, we could control them, perhaps even eliminate them. Please believe me. All we have done is for the city's greater good.”

Orosco's dark gaze no longer chilled me. It turned my stomach. His soft voice rankled in my ears. If I could have reached beyond the circle, I would have strangled him.

“Everything you've said is the same kind of bullshit Markus Hope tried to shovel. I'm not in. And nothing you offer will change my mind.”

He tapped his finger against his lips and hummed. “I'm not so sure of that. I have one last item that could win you over.”

I didn't ask. I didn't care.

Of course, he decided to tell me anyway. He leaned so close, it looked like he wanted to kiss me. In fact, the circle was probably tuned specifically to me, so he could have passed through the barrier if he wanted to. That would also give me a chance to grab him and press my thumbs through his eyeballs. Didn't need magic for that.

He stayed on his side, though.

“The Maidens of Shadow,” he whispered. “Join us, and when we're done with the witches, I will have them executed.”

Chapter Fifteen

“I'd rather execute them myself,” I said.

Orosco raised his eyebrows. One corner of his mouth turned up. “That could be arranged.”

The thought of having the Ministry round up the Maidens for me, basically putting them in the barrel and letting me do the shooting, had appeal. I couldn't deny it. But there were a million reasons why it was a bad idea.

I didn't know anything about this guy. I doubted I could trust him to hold up his side of such a deal. Having black witches as powerful as the Maidens on personal retainer would be a hard perk to throw away for my sake. Besides, it would mean joining these assholes. I didn't want to get between the so-called “New Ministry” and the “Resistance.” I had my own street-level issues to deal with. Fighting a civil war did not fit into my plans.

“Think,” Orosco said, “before you answer.”

“I've thought,” I said. “And I think I'll gather my clothes and be on my way.” I pointed toward the circle on the floor. “If you don't mind?”

Orosco sighed. He looked toward Elton then turned to look at the Bearded One. His minions remained still and expressionless, but I had a feeling their exchanged looks was all the communication they needed, and it didn't bode well for me.

“Last chance,” Orosco said.

“No.”

His nostrils flared. His dark eyes turned even darker. I could feel his gaze like a finger pressed between my eyes. “I shouldn't be surprised. Not based on what I've heard about you.”

I put on a cocky smirk. “I'm that popular, huh?”

“The Unturned,” he declared like a carnival barker advertising his freak show. He held his robed arms out. “I'm going to have to change your mind.”

“Good luck with that.”

He exchanged looks with his companions again. Then he bowed his head, turned, and walked away, black robes flowing.

Elton and the Bearded One closed in, their eyes vacant of any discernible emotion. They had turned from a couple of yuk-it-up thugs to icy professionals. It wasn't until the door clinked shut behind Orosco that they cracked their smiles. No need to put on a show for the boss anymore.

“Is this where you torture me until I agree to join your club?”

The Bearded One nodded. “Yep.”

“Careful you don't break the circle,” I said. The two of them stood only a foot from the curved line of ash.

They both carefully stepped over the line and into my tiny invisible cage. Apparently, they weren't worried about getting out. As I had suspected, the circle was keyed for me. At least when it came to escape. But muting magic was a tricky thing. Hard to be precise unless you used some kind of trinket—like the gold shackles Logan Goulet had put on my mother to keep her from casting anything more than a shadow.

I twirled my finger in the air. “I believe this is a magic free zone, boys.”

Elton snickered and slicked his hand back across his scalp. “We don't need magic.”

They crowded me. Not too hard considering the size of the circle and my inability to exit it. I backed off as far as I could before coming against the invisible barrier. Totally not fair.

The Bearded One came at me. I tried to dodge, but I didn't have the room, and his muscles were bigger. He grabbed my arm, twisted me around, then locked me up in a full nelson, my arms spread and caught in the crook of his elbows, his fingers firmly laced against the back of my neck. With his size and strength, I didn't stand a chance of getting loose. Not without any magic.

While the Bearded One held me, Elton drew a curved knife out from behind him. The blade was only six inches long, but it came to a hell of a point, and it shined like silver. It might have actually been silver. Not an uncommon element to make weapons from when you lived in our secret world. Saved you the trouble of having to get something special for the vamps and werewolves.

Elton closed in.

I took a wild kick at him.

He dodged easily, so I tried again, lifting both legs and pumping them at him like I was riding an invisible bike. The pressure of my full body weight hanging from the Bearded One's iron hold hurt my neck. It felt like it might snap loose. I ignored the pain. Getting cut with Elton's blade would hurt a lot worse. And I wasn't in the mood to do any more bleeding this week.

Alas, you don't always get what you want.

Elton grabbed my right ankle and pinned it under his arm and against his side. I kicked at him with my free foot while I tried yanking away the one he held. I growled like a trapped animal in the process.

Elton bared his teeth and took a swipe with the knife at the leg he held. He caught me on the inside of my thigh. A bright red line split open and blood quickly oozed from the wound.

At first, I didn't feel anything. His blade had cut so clean, it had felt like little more than a small paintbrush across my skin. A couple seconds later, the burning agony shot up from my thigh into my crotch. I thrashed harder against both of the bastards' hold on me.

Elton let go of my leg and backed away, out of range of my kicking.

The Bearded One bared down on his full nelson, pressing my chin down against my breast bone. More pain lanced up my spine as he stretched the upper vertebrae to their limit.

It didn't take long for my blood to paint a wide swath down past my knee. I had to stop kicking. I was only making the bleeding worse. I felt woozy. Either from blood loss, the Bearded One's punishing lock on me that made it hard to breathe, or a combination of the two. Were they going to kill me without bothering to change my mind about joining their club?

I tried to say something, but only managed a strangled cough.

Elton smirked. “What's that? Flipped already?”

I chuffed through my nostrils like an angry bull. I wanted to say something glib or witty. I couldn't speak at all. Besides, I didn't have any good comebacks in mind.

Elton nodded at the Bearded One. “Ease up, Paul.”

Paul, huh? He didn't look like a Paul.

Whatever I wanted to call him, he mercifully relaxed his hold. Not nearly enough for me to slip, though. At least I could breathe without feeling like my throat was a bent straw.

Elton leaned down into my line of sight. “Well?”

Just tell him you'll join. Just fucking lie.

I don't often listen to that little voice in my head, even when it makes perfect sense.

“Piss off.”

Elton slapped the top of my head. “Are you dense?” He pointed his blade between my legs. “You want me to work on that next?”

While struggling, I'd forgotten I was naked. Now, I had never felt more naked in my life.

I grinded my teeth and tensed my abs as if waiting to take a punch to the gut. I wriggled and strained against Paul's hold. A pointless waste of energy. I wasn't getting out of this until he decided to let me go, and not a breath sooner.

Elton scratched at his lightning bolt with his non-knife hand as if trying to work out a puzzle that had him stumped. “You don't think I'll cut your dick? I'll split it down the middle. Boss might be a bit sad. He seemed to like the merchandise.”

“Get your fucking hands off of me.”

Elton looked down at his knife in his hand. Maybe it had an answer to his conundrum etched on the blade. He squinted at it. “You called my bluff, friend. That kind of damage might be too much at the moment. Well done.”

I worked up some saliva and spit it at his face. The spray peppered his cheek with droplets of foam.

His eyes seethed. His lip twitched as if he had a nervous tic. He took a deep breath, let it ease out his nose, and visibly relaxed. Then he slashed the knife and cut me across the chest at a diagonal.

The slice went from the ribs on one side up to my clavicle on the other side. I cried out against the fresh pain. The blood felt hot as it dribbled down my chest. I bucked and kicked on instinct with no effect other than tiring me out. A haze rose up across my vision. The light from the chandelier seemed to dim. The parquet dance floor tilted under my feet. The smell of my own sweat and blood teased my gag reflex.

Elton pressed his blade against my throat. “I got permission to kill you, you know.”

“You do what you have to.”

“You're a real dumb son of a bitch.”

Paul chuckled. A puff of his breath warmed the back of my neck. But it smelled like salami, which made the urge to puke that much stronger.

Nobody said anything for a moment. Elton quivered with obvious rage. His trembling knife hand shook the blade against my neck. I could feel it nibbling at the top layer of my skin.

“Would you please,” Elton said. “Please come to your damn senses?”

Then I saw it. Despite the tough moves and the badass lightning bolt tattooed on his scalp, Elton here was not a killer. Not yet, at least.

“Just let me go,” I said. “Tell your boss I got away.”

“Why the hell would I do that?”

“Because you don't want to kill me. It's written all over your face. You don't have the stomach for it.”

He shuffled in close so that he nearly pressed against my body. “You think you know me?”

The pain in my leg and chest continued to sear, but it faded to the background while my mind evaluated my situation. Things had changed. It had turned into a conversation rather than a torture session. And even though Elton had a knife to my throat, he had forgotten to stay sharp. He was too pissed to realize he had put himself within my easy reach.

Granted, my arms were locked up and too numb to use anyway.

I didn't need them, though.

I glanced down at the circle of ash.

All it would take is one good shove.

“Elton,” I said. “I know your type.”

“What type is that?”

“You're a dumb shit.”

I drew up my knee—the one on my good leg—and nailed him in the nuts. He backed off and doubled over, his blade safely away from my jugular. I lifted my good leg and shoved the sole of my foot against his bare scalp. It wasn't a strike meant to hurt him, just knock him off balance.

He staggered a couple steps, then dropped to the floor with an oof.

And he landed right where I wanted him to.

On the circle.

The ash smeared across the floor under him. I felt the magic cage pop like a massive bubble, the sudden opening came like a magical breath of fresh air. Once again, I could feel my power flowing through me.

I called on fire to light up the length of my arms.

Paul shrieked and let go of me. I turned and watched him stumbled backward and thump onto his ass.

I worked my shoulders, trying to encourage the circulation back where it belonged.

A sudden blaze of pain racked across my back.

I spun around.

Elton had gotten to his feet. He was hunched slightly, favoring his poor bruised balls. But he had his knife at the ready for another swipe.

Realizing I had put my back to Paul now, I turned sideways and backed up so I had them both in my sight. Paul was slapping at the flames on his shirt and had most of them patted out.

Elton faked a lunge while he whipped his knife back and forth in front of him.

I jerked back, well beyond his reach.

“Drop the blade, Elton. I don't want to kill you.”

He narrowed his eyes.

“That's right,” I said. “I've done plenty of killing.” I held my right hand out and set it alight with blue fire. “I won't hesitate.”

He mashed his lips together. His face flushed. Even his scalp pinked up. Steam practically spewed from his ears. He wanted another shot at me. If he wasn't a killer before, he was now. But, unlike his partner, Elton didn't seem to have any magical tricks to toss at me, and he knew he was outmatched.

He dropped the knife and ran for the doors.

By now, Paul had the flames out. All but the ones in his eyes.

I had learned the hard way that he could throw flame and conjure wind just like me. I felt his magical energy coalesce around him as he prepared to take a shot at me.

Unlucky for him, I already had my fire ready.

I hurled blue fire at him. The flaming ball struck him dead center. This time, he wouldn't get the chance to beat down the flames that spread over him. His gathering power dispersed as he kicked, screamed, and burned.

With the threat neutralized, my adrenaline leaked away, leaving me with all the pain I had managed to ignore thus far. My head spun. I dropped to my knees. Squeezing my eyes shut, I pulled together my power and moved it into my wounds. The cuts were too deep for me to try to stitch them shut. I'd bleed out before my paltry of healing skills even came close. I did block the pain some, though.

Well, most of it.

The cut on my back still throbbed and stung. It felt infected. But that was impossible. It was too fresh.

Then I noticed the exact location of the cut.

A chill ran through me and stole my breath. I reached across so I could touch my shoulder, touch my brand. My fingertips brushed against the bloody split that ran straight through the brand's center. The skin was hot to the touch. Way hotter than blood should be.

I wasn't sure what it meant. I'd never considered what might happen if the brand was damaged in some way. Could a scratch, or even a deep cut, undo its magic?

No. You're suffering blood-loss and shock. This is all in your head.

The mage who had given me the brand never mentioned anything about situations like this. I had to trust that a cut couldn't undo the brand's effects.

I shuffled over to the chair with my clothes on it. Putting them on would ruin them with all the blood pouring out of me. But I couldn't damn well leave naked. Besides, I needed my phone. Needed to call for help before I passed out.

I dug through both pockets of my pants where my phone should have been. When I didn't find it there, I ruffled through the rest of my clothes.

Nothing.

They had taken my fucking phone.

A new wave of dizziness twirled through my head. It took every effort to stay conscious while I pulled on my clothes. I dressed with the clumsy care of an old man. The fabric instantly absorbed my blood, making my shirt stick to my skin and dampening my pants as if I'd wet myself.

If I wasn't careful, I might pass out and do just that.

I limped my way out through the doors Orosco had come through and found myself in an expansive lobby probably as big as my house. Blood leaked out my pant leg and dribbled across the ornate carpeting. A large stretch of windows looked out at a parking lot and a garden still mostly dormant from the winter, only a few of the flowers in bloom. The front door led out to a portico.

The cold night air felt good in my lungs, but chilled my blood-soaked body until I couldn't stop shivering.

A fence separated the grounds from the back yards of a row of houses on the far side of the lot. A hundred yards to the fence. A painful and slow climb over the fence into one of the yards. A grueling crawl to the back door. Then I could pound and cry for help. Hopefully, someone would be home. Hopefully, they would get to me before I died.

But I only made it a few shambling steps before I dropped to the asphalt and lost consciousness.

Chapter Sixteen

I sat at a table in a restaurant with Odi at my side. Not just any restaurant. The one where I had killed the guys I had meant to interrogate. Their burnt bodies lay around us. But it didn't seem to bother me. They might has well have been part of the decor. After I noticed the bodies, I looked up and saw Toft Kitchens sitting across from me.

The four-century-old vampire in a twelve-year-old’s body smiled at me as he adjusted his red bow tie. He wore a tailored tuxedo. His dirty blond hair was slicked back. He had his glamour dropped, going full on vampire. Odi, too.

“I'm glad you could finally join us,” Toft said. “I was worried you never would.”

I knew Toft was supposed to be dead. But much like the dead guys on the floor, his presence seemed perfectly normal. I felt apprehensive, though. Something was about to happen. Something I knew I wouldn't like.

“You've done a terrible job, by the way.” Toft pointed at Odi. “He's a vampire. You need to treat him like one.”

“I do,” I said, sounding defensive.

Toft shook his head with a sad smile. His glowing red eyes dimmed.

“No,” he said. “You haven't been teaching him.”

“We train every night.”

“Sorcery isn't what I meant. He needs to learn how to be a vampire.”

I glanced at Odi, then back to Toft. “I can't do that.”

“So disappointing. I wish I were still alive.”

“If you were still alive, half of Detroit would be dead.”

He shrugged and studied his fingernails. I noticed they were long, yellow, and cracked on the ends. “I knew I couldn't trust you to take care of him.”

I pounded my fist on the table. “That's bullshit. I feed him my blood, for the gods' sake. My own blood. I'm doing the best I can.”

“No,” Toft said, his little boy voice going unnaturally deep. “You can do better. You can be better.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

Toft's gaze roved to Odi. Odi hunched in his seat, his own gaze pointed down at the bright white, starchy tablecloth. He looked like he wanted to curl into a ball and disappear.

Toft templed his fingers and pursed his blood-red lips. “Do you really not know?”

“I really…” I stopped as I realized what this was all about.

Toft smiled. “There we go. Don't you think it's time to stop fighting it?”

“No. You're out of your mind.”

“It's your destiny, Sebastian. Did you think the brand could last forever? You're a sorcerer. You have a long life ahead of you, assuming you don't get yourself killed with all the antics you've enjoyed of late. Plenty of time for the brand to finally fail.”

I clenched my teeth. Heat rose on my cheeks. “Why did you help me stop the turn if you want it to happen so badly?”

“This isn't about what I want. It's about what Odi needs. He needs a mentor who understands him.” He sighed and pressed his hands flat on the table. “It's time, Sebastian. Time you stopped being the Unturned.”

He raised a hand and signaled a waiter in a white tux standing by the door to the kitchen. I hadn't noticed him there before. It was like he'd come out of nowhere.

“Please,” Toft said. “Serve the main course.”

The waiter nodded primly then strode into the kitchen. A few moments later he came out wheeling a long stainless-steel cart with a sheet draped over it. The shape under the sheet was unmistakable.

The waiter sidled the cart up beside our table then whipped the sheet off with a magician's flourish.

I didn't recognize the person on the table. He looked like an average guy you'd pass on the street without noticing. Brown hair and matching eyes. He was naked except for a pair of white briefs. And, although he'd been draped like a corpse in the morgue, this guy was very much alive.

Leather straps with rusty buckles pinned him to the cart. He struggled but could barely move. He wasn't going anywhere.

Not alive, anyway.

I glance from the man to Toft. “Are you out of your mind?”

He smirked. “I think you already asked me that.”

I held my palm out toward the cart and turned my face away. “No. No way.”

“Relax. The brand is already wearing off. You can feel it, can't you? Embrace the change.”

A static prickle rose on my skin, like getting wiped down with a dryer sheet. My mouth watered. My saliva tasted like blood. I pressed a fist against my mouth to hold down my gorge. Bile seared the back of my throat. That tasted like blood too.

I stood up, knocking my chair over with a clatter.

The man on the cart rolled his eyes toward me. The pleading in them turned me cold. Not because I feared for him. Or felt sorry for his fate. It chilled me because I didn't care.

I brushed my tongue against my teeth and felt the sharp points of each of my fangs. I balled my hands into fists and tried to will the fangs away, but I had no control over them.

The sickness in my gut turned, like a black snake inside of me. It turned into hunger.

Toft stood, gestured toward the man, and nodded at me. “You are the guest of honor. You have first dibs.”

I looked at Odi, but he was oblivious. His lips were wet, and the red glow in his eyes flared as he stared, fixated, on the man.

“Dude,” he said. “I'm seriously hungry.”

“Now, now.” Toft clapped his hands a couple times softly. “Manners.”

Odi ducked his head. “Sorry.”

I stared at the man, still struggling against his bonds. “Who is he?”

“It doesn't matter.”

He was right. Better not to know. I rounded the table toward the cart and stepped up beside the helpless man—dinner—and my stomach rumbled. I stared at his throat. I thought I could see his jugular throbbing in time to his heartbeat. My teeth itched. I couldn't hold off any longer.

I cried out against my cravings, but the end result was the same.

I sank my fangs into the man's neck and began to drink.

Chapter Seventeen

I woke up with a mouthful of spit that tasted like pennies. I gagged when I swallowed, but the taste cleared away, just a ghost from that fucked-up dream.

I lay in a dark room with only a hint of light cutting around the edges of a shade drawn down over the window. The pillowcase my head rested on smelled like lavender and had the crisp feel of fresh laundry. My body was slick with sweat, the single sheet over me sticking against my bare chest.

The memories from before I passed out came in waves, like a steady tide.

The ballroom. The circle of ash. Orosco's ridiculous offer. Elton's blade slicing me open. The cut across my brand.

A cold jolt of panic quickened my heart rate. I rolled onto my side and reached back to touch my brand. The cut was nothing more than a ridge of scar tissue now. I felt my chest. Same thing with the slice there. Someone with mad healing skills had tended to me.

Had the healing fixed the brand, too?

I took stock of myself while I lay in the dark. I hadn't even bothered trying to work out where I was yet. Before I did, I concentrated on my body, my senses, my…urges.

I noticed I had an unconscious bit of magical energy drawn up. The feeling was all too familiar. It was just like after the vamps had tried to turn me the first time, a portion of my magic held aside to fight the infection from taking over.

Maybe it was the dream that had caused the reflex. Or something left over from when the brand was first cut.

I slowly released the energy. Just a little.

Didn't feel any different. Hell, now I wondered if my fear of the brand failing had only come from the dream. The moments before I fell unconscious were a little blurred, seemed to blend with the dream.

Before I had a chance to test my condition any further, the room's door slowly opened, letting in a shaft of light from the hallway outside. I had to squint while my eyes adjusted. I couldn't immediately make out any details of the silhouette that stepped into the room. A general sense of their size and shape. A female, I thought.

Then the shock of the sudden light faded, and I could plainly see who stood in the wide stripe of light.

Fiona.

I pushed up onto my elbow and the world tilted. I flopped onto my back while my head spun. And the spinning turned my stomach. I'd been healed but apparently still needed time to recover from the blood loss. I had no idea what time it was or how long I'd been out. No idea how I'd gotten to this bed. And no fucking clue what Fiona had to do with it.

I thumped a fist against the mattress and grunted. I didn't have time for this.

“Are you okay?” Fiona asked as she came closer.

I waved her away. “Don't.”

She stopped short, wrung her hands together. The light from behind made her blond hair glow. Stray flyaways glimmered like gold thread. “You're probably wondering—”

“Where the hell am I?”

She laughed nervously. “Yeah. That.”

I took another shot at propping myself up a bit so I could see around me. My head did a few pirouettes, but I stayed up this time.

The contents of the room surprised me. A dresser with an attached mirror hosted a dozen Barbie dolls on plastic stands lined up like a choir of clones, each with a different outfit. Mostly dresses, but one of them looked like a mail carrier's uniform.

A dollhouse squatted on the floor against one wall. More Barbies occupied various rooms, while a single Ken doll lounged on a couch in the living room. The indirect lighting left some sinister-looking shadows around Ken, making the plastic guy looked like a predator, waiting for one of the Barbies to come in and dare to sit down with him in front of the TV.

So I was in a dark mood. What would you expect from someone who had just woken up from a dream about sucking blood?

The walls had a border along the ceiling featuring smiling cartoon narwhals, the unicorns of the sea.

“Whose room is this?” I asked.

“Jonah's daughter,” Fiona said as if I was supposed to know who Jonah was. “Well, it used to be.”

My foggy brain couldn't parse that, so I let it go. “What are you doing here? How did you find me? What is going on?”

One corner of her mouth curled up. “Slow down, or you're going to pass out again.”

I wanted to snap at her for daring to mother me. But she was right. My ears rang as another wave of dizziness tried to carry me away. I took a second to ride it through. Once the worst of it passed, I chanced trying to sit up. I pulled the sheet off. I was wearing a pair of sweatpants a little too big for me. Not mine.

Fiona moved to help as I slowly swung my legs off the bed.

“Don't touch me,” I growled.

She raised her hands and stepped back.

I got myself up to a sitting position on the edge of the bed, teeth clenched as I fought vertigo and nausea. A minute or two passed, and I could feel Fiona watching me the whole time, which made me self-conscious. I had to look like a pile of shit run through a microwave. That's how I felt anyway.

But what did I care what Fiona thought of me? Screw her. She meant nothing to me.

“You good?” she asked.

“I'll tell you when I'm good.” I counted down from ten to finish steadying myself. Then I looked up at her. “What is going on?”

“We found you bleeding out. We picked you up. Brought you here. Then had one of our healers fix you up.”

All that sounded simple enough, except that it still didn't make a lick of sense to me.

“By we, you mean…”

“Some resistance members.”

Oh, goody. Somehow she had sucked me in again to her latest crew of rabble rousers. “You were following me? Again?”

“Not exactly.”

I waited, but she didn't say more. “Could you elaborate?”

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other and looked at the floor. “We have a hacker. She set it up so we could track you by your phone's GPS.”

“You have got to be kidding me.” My first instinct was to launch off the bed and storm out of there. I didn't try, though. The way I felt, I wouldn't have made it halfway across the room.

“Try to relax.”

“I've told you already, damn it. I want no part of this.”

“I know. I know. But Jonah wants to talk to you. I really think you should listen.”

“Who the fuck is Jonah?”

“I guess you could say he's our leader. He started the resistance. Or, at least, organized it. Brought people together. People who truly understand how dangerous the usurpers really are.”

I snorted. “You mean there are people who doubt a bunch of mass murderers are anything but?”

She clenched a fist. “Some don't believe what happened. It's easier to think this was a simple change of management.”

“That's insane. They didn't notice all the suddenly dead Ministry officials?”

“They've buried their heads in the sand. Which makes our work so much more important.”

My brand tingled. The tingle quickly grew into hot pain, as if I were getting it all over again. I must have winced.

Fiona moved toward me, but stopped herself. “What's wrong?”

I waved a hand down the length of the scar across my chest. “Knife fight, remember?”

I saw the suspicion in her eyes. She opened her mouth to say something, seemed to switch gears, and gestured toward the open door. “Will you talk to Jonah?”

“He's the dude stalking me with my phone?”

“We never would have found you in time to save you if we weren't tracking you. Your captors had ditched your phone in a trash bin two blocks over from the banquet hall. If Donny hadn't spotted you on the ground outside, you'd probably be dead.”

The brand burned hotter. That gathered magic within me intensified as if it had taken on a mind of its own, protecting me on instinct. As it did, the pain in my brand eased.

“How did you think to come after me in the first place?”

“The GPS signal went out. A team scrambled to its last known location. They found your phone, smashed, in the trash bin behind a strip mall.”

I guessed I should have thanked this Jonah guy, but the whole deal with him and his buddies tracking me kind of sullied my appreciation for the rescue. I also didn't want to waste time. Whatever was going on with my brand had to take priority over everything.

“Where are my clothes?”

“They're ruined.” She let loose a frustrated sigh. “Just talk to him, Sebastian.”

“Do I have to walk out of here half naked?”

She set her jaw. “You stubborn son of a bitch.”

“I think I have a right to be. Wherever you go, trouble follows. Fiona, I appreciate what you and your friends want to accomplish. I'm not sure it isn't already too late for them to do any good.”

“That's why we have to strike now, while the new regime is still young and vulnerable.”

“Either way, I don't want to find myself in the middle of another magical massacre.”

“Because that's what's going to happen since I'm involved, you’re saying”

I didn't say anything.

“That's bullshit.”

I still said nothing.

A dimple formed in one of her cheeks as her lips formed a straight line. She clenched and unclenched her fist, looked like she wanted to hit me. “You're going to talk to him. Or, yeah, you're walking out of here naked. You'll have to give the sweat pants back.”

“I don't even know where I am.”

She pointed at her straight face. “Do I look like I care?”

I threw up a hand. “Fine. I'll talk to him. But my answer won't change. I don't want anything to do with your resistance.”

Chapter Eighteen

After she got me a plain white t-shirt, Fiona led me out of the little girl's bedroom, down a flight of carpeted stairs, and into a cramped living room. Besides myself and Fiona, three men and two women occupied the room. Two of the men sat on a pair of chairs flanking a tan leather couch. The two women and remaining man sat in a line on the couch.

A haze of smoke filled the room. An ashtray sat on the coffee table with a pack of Camels beside it. I could tell from the wrinkling around her lips that the woman on the right side of the couch was the smoker.

The man seated between the two women on the couch stood as Fiona and I entered. He brushed his hands off on his faded skinny jeans, and adjusted his horn-rimmed glasses. He looked to be in his early fifties. His peppered hair was a few centimeters too long to count as stubble, but too short to do much more than stick out. It curved around a well-advanced receding hairline. The denim button-up shirt he wore hung loose on his skinny frame.

He cleared his throat and held his hand out across the coffee table. “Mr. Light, I'm Jonah Jackey. It is so good to meet you.”

I crossed the room and shook his hand. I felt penned in by the gazes of the others sitting around me. I was already having self-image issues with my baggy sweat pants and too-tight t-shirt. I guessed the shirt belonged to Jonah, but the pants were way too big for a bean pole like him.

Still, it beat standing there naked.

“Yeah, sure,” I said, my brand tingling again. “Can we move this along, though?”

Jonah took my rudeness in stride, smiling. “Of course.” He twisted and held a hand out toward the empty spot on the couch. “Would you like to have a seat?”

“Not really.”

He nodded firmly. “Okay, I won't waste any of your time. I'm sure Fiona explained who we are.”

“She did.”

“Then you understand what's at stake?”

I glanced at Fiona. She had moved to one side of the wide archway between the living room and kitchen and leaned against the wall. She smiled with half her mouth as if afraid to give me a full one. Good. I had agreed to talk to her fearless leader, but I did not want her to think that made things all right between us.

Things would never be all right between us.

“I understand what you're trying to do,” I said. “I just don't see why you need me.”

He narrowed his eyes and seemed to consider his words carefully. He tugged at the beginnings of a beard on his chin. The beard was about the same length as his hair, so there wasn't much to pull on. “You are a symbol, Mr. Light. The Unturned, of course. But more than that. You represent the impossible. A mortal who cheated undeath. A young sorcerer who single-handedly destroyed the plans of a years-long conspiracy that would have meant disaster for Detroit.”

Wow. He sure did make me sound good. But my ego wasn't that hungry. And, honestly, it sounded like bullshit.

“I don't even know what to say to that.”

“You don't believe it?”

I panned my gaze along the other faces all staring at me. The smoker woman pursed her wrinkled lips and stared at me as if I were the biggest disappointment of her life.

“I'm just a guy. A demon hunter. Sorcerer. But not even a very good sorcerer.” I reached out with my senses and touched an aura of magic surrounding him. “Based on what I'm sensing, you're a hell of a lot more powerful.”

“It isn't just about power. It's about inspiration. Leadership.”

That last word made my skin crawl. “You're the leader here. Not me.”

“A lot of people in the Ministry look up to you.”

I laughed. “I've had nothing but trouble with the Ministry.”

“You can't think the corruption represents the whole, can you? After all, you used to work with the Ministry.”

“On a freelance basis. No more.”

He tilted his head slightly to one side. The light from a lamp on the nearest end table cast a yellowish gleam across the lenses of his glasses. “Your mother and father were two of the most respected members of the Ministry. Their work was invaluable.”

“And look where that work got them.”

He winced. “I'm sorry. I didn't know either of them directly. Only by reputation. The Light name has quite the pedigree.”

“And I'm the last of them.” I hadn't thought of it that way until just then. But it was true. I was the last of a once great line of sorcerers. What a fucking disappointment I would have seemed to my ancestors. The smoking lady had it right after all.

“Look, I'm glad you think I'm super cool or whatever, but I really have somewhere I need to be.”

“Is it anything we can help you with?”

“Nah. Kind of a personal matter.”

Fiona pushed away from the wall. “Sebastian, you need—”

I spun on her. “I need you to leave me the fuck alone.”

I turned back to Jonah. “I honestly wish you luck. I've had a run in with the new prefect. He's one-hundred percent a dick. So I hope you can topple the fucker.”

“You've met Orosco?” Jonah asked.

“Yes.”

The smoking lady reached for her pack of cigarettes while she narrowed her eyes at me. “That who cut you up?”

“Who are you?” I asked.

She drew a cigarette and lit it up with a pink lighter tucked into the cellophane around the pack. She exhaled a stream of smoke and leaned back. “I'm the gal who doesn't think you're as slick as everyone else seems to.”

I held my hand out to her. “There you go. I rest my case. Can I go now?”

“Tell him, Jonah,” Fiona said.

Jonah's frown drew deep lines in his face. He looked washed out, like he hadn't eaten in a while, or slept. “I don't think it's necessary.”

“Tell me what?” I asked.

Fiona ignored me. “He doesn't think it affects him. He doesn't understand the stakes.”

“I was there when the Maidens took out Rachel Strand and all of her friends. I know damn well what they've done. I also know I have my own fight, and I can do it better alone.”

“Tell him,” Fiona repeated.

Jonah closed his eyes and took a deep breath. I couldn't imagine that would help much with the cigarette smog hanging in the room. When he opened his eyes, his gaze focused so intently on me I could practically feel it.

“The bedroom you woke in,” he started. “That belonged to my daughter. She was eight.”

I picked up on his use of the past tense and knew I didn't want to hear any more of this.

“When the Maidens of Shadow struck, my wife was one of the targets. She had been in the process of teaching my daughter a spell. A simple charm that would make her pet rabbit speak. So silly. So…innocent.”

I'd never heard of such a spell. Why hadn't my parents taught me that one?

“But the energy of spells, as you know, is a complex thing. When my wife suddenly dropped dead, the magic she had started to draw misfired and took my daughter, too.”

A sourness filled my mouth that vaguely tasted like the jambalaya from Slows. “I'm sorry.”

“The stakes are real, Mr. Light. Painfully so.”

“I never said they weren't. My mother was a casualty of the conflict as well. That's why I have my mission. What were your wife and daughter's names?”

“Belinda and Maya.”

“When I catch up to the Maidens, I'll keep their memory in mind and get justice for them, too.”

His lips pulled back from his teeth. He growled and kicked the coffee table over. The ashtray tumbled off and dumped ash and butts onto the carpet. He shouted, “This isn't about justice, it's about freedom. Do you have any idea what these people plan to do with their power?”

I thought back to what Annabelle, one of the mothers of the coven, had said before I had killed her, about some of the things she expected the new regime to accomplish. Things like legalizing human sacrifices and all manner of blood magic.

Before I could answer him, my brand started to burn. I clenched my teeth as I poured still more power against the infection's advances. How long could this go on? Had the infection somehow grown stronger?

I didn't want to find out the hard way. I needed to get this taken care of.

“I'm sorry,” I said. “I have to go.”

He hung his head.

The smoker blew another couple rings. “Told you.”

I noticed no one was staring at me anymore. I'd let them all down.

“Can anyone give me a ride back to my car?” I asked.

Fiona made a disgusted noise under her breath. “We brought your car back here. It's parked outside. Keys are in it. Enjoy your private, unwinnable war against the Maidens.”

“It's not unwinnable,” I said. “They're going down. And with them out of the way, your crew will have an easier time ousting Orosco and his crew.”

She shook her head and sneered. “You're an idiot.”

“And you're a traitor.” I hooked a thumb over my shoulder. “Do they know that?”

She opened her mouth as if to answer, but I walked out before she could say anything. It wasn't me she had to answer to anyway.

Chapter Nineteen

I would have liked to call Odi and fill him in on where I'd been. It was around eleven, so he'd been up for a while. Unfortunately, I didn't have my phone, and I didn't want to take the time to swing by the house and pick him up. I had only one destination in mind.

The man who had performed the ritual with the brand was a mage who used to freelance for Toft. If anyone could fix this thing, it was him. Or, if not fix it, give me a new brand.

Navroz Danesh answered his door in nothing but a pair of white boxer shorts. His dark-skinned, wrinkly body looked like leather stretched over bones. His eyes sparkled at the sight of me. His wide smile unnerved me for some reason. I didn't like that he seemed so happy to see me.

“What a pleasant surprise,” he said.

“I need your help.”

His gaze scrolled down the length of me. I was still wearing the sweat pants and tight t-shirt. I had lost my new coat somewhere between getting knocked out at Slows and passing out in the parking lot of the banquet hall. I couldn't remember if I'd put it on after escaping or not. In any case, the night had to have fallen into the low forties. I trembled from the cold even though I felt feverish from the continued amount of power I had to put into keeping the infection at bay. It had definitely evolved in some way, as if it intended to turn me once and for all.

“What an interesting outfit,” Danesh said.

“Look who's talking.”

He smiled again. “Ah, yes. Come in. I'll get dressed and you can tell me all about your problem.”

He directed me to wait in his kitchen while he strolled down the hall to put on some clothes. On his way, he said, “I have a feeling I know why you're here.”

I doubt it, buddy.

I paced over the linoleum tiles while I waited. He only took a minute. It felt like an age.

He came out dressed in a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt. I wrinkled my brow and blinked at him. He smiled knowingly. “Now we are a pair of fashionistas.”

Whatever. Just as long as he fixed the brand.

“So,” he said easing into a chair at the kitchen table. “How did it happen?”

I stayed on my feet. I doubted I could sit still. “You don't even know what I'm here for.”

“Your brand,” he said. “It has weakened.”

My mouth fell open. I took a second to reorder my thoughts. “How did you know?”

“I expected the day would come. The brand's magic is strong. The brand itself is only skin deep. And skin is soft, vulnerable.”

“You knew this could happen all along and you didn't think to tell me?”

“Would you have refused the brand, had I?”

“No. But I would have been more…careful.”

He laughed with bright amusement. Sure was glad he thought this whole thing was such a lark.

“Even if you slept in armor, skin is impermanent. Warning you would have distracted you with a paranoia that would do you no good.”

Made sense, but that didn't make me any less pissed. “Just tell me you can fix it. Or redo it.”

He folded his hands and rested them on the table. “I'm afraid I cannot.”

My gut twisted. “Why not?”

“The brand is gone. I sold it to a collector for a hefty sum.”

“Son of a bitch. Who did you sell it to?”

“It doesn't matter.”

“I'll get it back.” I felt short of breath. “Tell me who has it.”

“You don't understand. If I thought I could repeat the ritual, I would have kept it. But something like that? It's a magical fluke. I wasn't even sure it would work in the first place.”

My heart raced. Suddenly, my legs didn't want to hold me up any longer. I staggered to the nearest seat at the table and fell into it. My thoughts went blank, like a whiteboard with the marker erased, like my brain had ceased to function. All I could do was stare at an empty wooden napkin holder in the center of the table and the ceramic salt and pepper shakers.

I felt a hand on my shoulder.

At some point, Danesh had come over to stand at my side. I hadn't seen him move. I had lost track of everything, including time. He had a clock on the wall and it said ten minutes had passed while I sat there.

“I'm sorry, my friend,” he said. “Perhaps it's time to accept your fate.”

That reminded me of my dream. The details were clouded, but hadn't Toft said something very similar?

I also remembered the taste of the blood that had carried for a second across the border from dream to reality. I could not accept that fate. I would not become something I used to hunt and destroy. I didn't care that many “tame” vamps walked the streets of the Motor City without breaking Ministry Law. Vampires were still monsters.

Have you told Odi that?

I curled my fingers into a fist and pounded the table.

Danesh jerked back. “I do not understand.”

I looked up at him as if he'd spoke in tongues. “What is there to understand? You want me to roll over and let myself turn? You really think that's a good option?”

“Mr. Light,” he said softly. “I believe it is your only option.”

“No.” I stood up shaking my head. “I can fight this.”

“For a while, perhaps. But—”

I grabbed at his shirt collar and yanked him so we came nose-to-nose. “I. Will. Fight this.”

All the twinkle left his eyes, replaced with sadness. “Okay. As you say.”

I shoved him away and stormed out.

Outside, my breath puffed in the air, but the cold night couldn't penetrate the heat burning inside of me. I didn't feel the cold. I didn't feel anything. Except the heat. The rage.

And the phantom taste of blood on my tongue.

Chapter Twenty

I arrived home to find Odi waiting for me on the porch steps. He sat with his feet propped on the step below so his knees stuck up and he could rest his arms on them.

I pulled into the driveway and got out of the car.

He watched me approach without a word, his expression unreadable in the night shadows.

When I reached the steps, he narrowed his eyes. “Nice threads.” His nostrils flared as he sniffed the air. “Whoa, dude. And what is that?”

My stomach ached. I hadn't eaten anything since Slows. I needed to get some nourishment, build up my strength so I could keep fighting the infection.

“I'm sorry about last night,” I said, my voice raspy.

“Good thing, 'cause you were a grade-A tool.” He drew his eyebrows together. “What's going on with you? You look like shit, and you smell like…” He shook his head. “Still can't place it.”

“Let's go inside.”

I went straight for the kitchen and dug through the fridge. I pulled out a loaf of bread, some salami from the deli, and some mayo that didn't look like it had gone bad. Yet.

I dropped the stuff on the counter and started work on a sandwich, not bothering with a plate.

Odi watched me with his hands in his jeans pockets. He looked worried. I hated stringing him along like this, but I felt like I might pass out if I didn't eat. Explanations later.

The second I had a sandwich together, I chomped into it. I barely chewed before swallowing. But when the bite landed, my stomach revolted. I coughed and threw up onto the counter.

“Holy shit, dude.” Odi rushed over, then stood there gaping at me as if he didn't know what to do next.

I felt a second purge coming up. I rushed to the sink and puked into the drain. I had little more than bile to hack up after only the one bite of sandwich.

I clutched the kitchen counter and fought to keep from vomiting again. The peppery aftertaste of salami hung in my mouth. I wanted the taste off my tongue so badly, I would have licked sandpaper if I'd had some. I ran the sink and drank from the faucet, swished and spit. But the water alone wouldn't be enough. I needed to brush my teeth. About thirty times.

“What is going on with you?” Odi asked. “You come home dressed like my seventh-grade gym teacher, act like you haven't eaten in weeks, then blow chunks all over. And you still smell like…”

He clapped a hand over his mouth.

“Oh, fuck,” he said into his palm.

I turned off the faucet and wiped my mouth with the back of my wrist. “What?” My voice sounded like a toad's croak.

“You smell like vampire, dude.”

As if the mere mention of the word vampire triggered it, my brand sizzled. Literally. As if someone had dropped an egg on my shoulder, and my shoulder was a skillet.

Odi drew back, eyes bulging.

I ripped off my t-shirt. The brand burned. I clenched my teeth against the pain, tossed the shirt aside, and craned my neck to get a glimpse. In the corner of my eye I could see steam rising off my bubbling skin. “Gods damn it. No.” I kicked out blindly and crashed the toe of my boot through the cabinet door underneath the sink. More heat expanded around my hand. I looked down in time to see it burst into blue flame. My magic reacting to extreme emotion. If I wasn't careful, I could light up the kitchen.

I took a deep breath, but the more I concentrated on calming myself, the more I felt the infection taking hold. I'd thrown up the sandwich because it wasn't what my body wanted. I didn't hunger for food. I hungered for blood.

Just like in my dream.

I heard Odi's panicked voice, but not his actual words. My concentration was splintered between trying to center myself, put out the growing fire around my hand, and shove more magical energy into the path of the growing infection. I wouldn't last long at this rate.

“Talk to me, Sebastian. What should I do?”

Speaking wasn't even an option. I stared hard at my flaming hand, willing the fire to die. I imagined drawing that power in and redistributing it to help stave off the infection.

Slowly, the flames died. At the same time, my shoulder cooled, the sizzling stopped, but I could still feel my nerve endings sparking with pain.

Once the flame was out, I turned to Odi. His face had lost what little color remained of his undead pallor. His wide eyes shone in the kitchen light.

“Well?”

I swallowed, that damn salami aftertaste still coating my mouth. But it didn't feel as foreign. It tasted the way food should taste to a mortal.

“My brand,” I said, “got damaged.”

“How? Where the hell have you been?”

“Kidnapped.” I stuck with short answers while my stomach settled. Cold sweat made me shiver. I shuffled out of the kitchen toward the dining room.

Odi followed close behind. “Kidnapped? By who?”

I eased into a chair at the table, leaned forward, and rested my forehead on my folded arms, eyes closed. “The new regime.”

“I'm sorry, you're going to have to repeat that.”

I lifted my heavy head. “The Ministry's new regime. The new prefect, to be exact.”

“Why the hell would he kidnap you?”

“He wanted me to join their new world order, or whatever the fuck they call it.” I rolled my eyes. “Everyone wants me to join their club.”

“Okay,” Odi said with tight apprehension. He sat at the table with me. “That sorta makes sense. Can you give me more?”

“Apparently, I am a symbol of great inspiration. The new prefect thinks I can tame the angry vampires and bring them back into the fold. This resistance Fiona is a part of wants me to join them because…reasons.” I offered Odi a blank look. “Honestly, kid, it doesn't make much sense to me, either.”

We both fell silent for a moment. I went back to resting my head on my arms. The nausea had finally passed. I couldn't tell how much magic I had left in me. Enough to fight back the infection for now. But long term? I'd rather not find out.

“So,” Odi said hesitantly. “You're turning into a vampire?”

I sat up. “No. I'm fighting the infection back with my magic. Only it's taking more magic than it should. I think, while the brand kept some of my power trapped aside to stop the infection from spreading, it somehow got stronger. I don't know. Or maybe I've grown so accustomed to not having to fight it, I don't know how to anymore. Whatever the case, I keep having to put more and more power into blocking it from finally turning me.”

“What about the dude who did the brand in the first place. He should be able to help, right?”

“Already tried that. In fact, he let me know he expected the brand to wear off eventually on its own.”

“But…” He lowered his gaze to the table. “So there's nothing you can do?”

I laughed. It sounded hollow, maybe a little derisive. “Why so glum? We can be vampire buddies.”

He snapped his gaze back to me. “Dude, you do not want to be a vampire.”

His reaction shocked me. I cocked my head to one side.

“I'm serious.” He patted his chest. “This isn't cool. This sucks.”

I had no idea he felt that way about his vampire status. I mean, I knew he missed his old life. But I hadn't gotten the sense that was what he meant now.

“Do you know I don't have dreams?” he asked.

I shook my head, wordless.

“I never feel tired. Waking up in the morning used to be a chore for me, but I hated sleeping, too, because there was so much stuff I didn't want to miss out on. Skateboarding with Nick and Chris. Catching the latest flick. Trolling the mall looking for girls dumb enough to think we were cool.”

“You miss all that.”

“But that's not what I mean. I mean, now? I don't go to sleep because I'm tired. I do it because it's daytime, and I'll fry up if I get near sunlight. I just close my eyes and…a second later it's the next night.”

I must have looked confused.

He growled with frustration. “I'm not explaining it right. I can't explain it.” Then his eyes lit up, inspired. “Do you have any idea how fucked up it is not to have a heart beat?”

I didn't. I couldn't imagine it, either.

Odi sighed. Laughed. “See that? I can breathe in and out. I don't have to, but I still do it out of habit.”

“Every vampire I've known does the same thing.”

He slapped the table. “That doesn't make it normal.”

I had the urge to say something, something comforting or wise. I just didn't have the words. I couldn't relate to his situation at all.

At least, not yet.

But whether I fully grasped his experiences or not, he’d gotten his point across. “Thank you,” I said.

He screwed up his face. “For what?”

“Putting yourself out there like that. And inspiring me to keep fighting.”

He smirked. “You're welcome, I guess.”

“The question now,” I said, “is how to fight?”

“Can Sly help?”

“He would in a heartbeat if he could. Even if he is pissed at me. But if he had a potion that could cure vampirism, he'd have a house in Malibu by now.”

Odi laughed. Then we both fell silent.

I thought about Gladys next door. She had a massive library of texts on all manner of supernatural subject matter. We could research options. Maybe Gladys could conjure up something herself. She was a witch, after all. But the more I thought about it, the less the idea seemed feasible. I didn't think I had time to do the research. Especially if it didn't turn anything up. Then I'd be well and truly screwed. Also, I didn't think Gladys did that kind of work.

I needed someone with the knowledge already at hand. And someone with the power to pull it off.

I needed someone like…

Urvasi Sabio.

Chapter Twenty-One

I needed rest. As much as I feared waking up undead, if I didn't try to recharge my magical batteries, eventually I wouldn't have the energy to hold the infection back. Not at this rate.

I also needed a meal. Hopefully, this time without upchucking.

I'd be damned if I tried another salami sandwich. There was a twenty-four-hour market a few blocks away. I sent Odi out to get me a couple cans of chicken soup. Something mild, just in case my gag reflex acted up again.

Vampires can run pretty damn fast, so the kid was back in under ten minutes. He brought three cans. I went through them all. The warm broth soothed my stomach. The protein from the chicken sated my hunger. I was back to mortal tastes, thank the gods.

Upstairs in my room, I shed the over-sized sweatpants and climbed into bed.

I didn't wake up until after sunrise.

My mouth felt like I'd sucked on sand. I hadn't brushed my teeth the night before, and I still had a hint of that salami taste stuck on my tongue, even after all the chicken soup.

The sun streamed through my window. Thankfully, it didn't burn off my face. I was still human.

What a sad standard to have first thing in the morning.

I spent a long time with my toothbrush. Finally, my breath tasted clean. I made doubly sure it stayed that way for a while with mouthwash.

It felt good to wear my own clothes again. I put on a pair of relaxed fit Dockers and a black button-up shirt. I laced up my boots and looked myself over in my closet mirror. Hair styled. Threads hanging just right. Sebastian Light, back in action.

Before I left, I crept downstairs to check on Odi, not that I could tuck him in, or even see him for that matter. Still, a quick glance at his glossy black coffin set me at ease for some reason.

Then I was off to the cemetery.

At first, I just stood beside Mom's grave, staring down at her stone. The late March weather had decided to cling to the coolness from the night before. I had dug out an old jacket from the back of my coat closet with a quilted interior, and was thankful I had. The sun had some warmth to it, but the cold breeze didn't let it stick.

I wondered what Mom would think about all this shit with the Ministry. New regimes and resistances. Me caught in the middle, mostly because I had vampire blood in me. What a stupid mess.

I wiped my eyes, took a deep breath, and called out.

“Urvasi Sabio. I'd like to talk.”

“Hello, Sebastian.”

Her voice came from behind me, but I didn't start. I had expected the sudden appearance this time.

I turned. Her sari looked as if it was made from spun gold, and I suspected some kind of magic was in the weave. She had her black hair up in a bun. Her dark eyes were as bright as ever.

She frowned. “Your energy…”

“Yep,” I said. “Vampire incoming.”

“The brand has failed?”

“Some douche bag sliced it open and that pretty much was that.”

She strode toward me and pressed her hand against my cheek. Her skin felt soft and warm and smelled like sugar. “You're holding it back.”

“For now. It's getting a lot harder.”

“Your fight won't last much longer.”

“Thanks for the encouragement.”

She moved her hand to my forehead as if feeling for a fever. Everything about her seemed motherly, from her tone, her expressions, and her touch. It made me miss my mom even more, and I wanted to swat Urvasi away as if she were an impostor. But I'd come for her help. Smacking her probably wouldn't earn me brownie points.

“I can feel it inside of you, roiling like a liquid devil.”

Her super apt description stunned me. I wished I had a way with words like that.

She lowered her hand from my forehead. The cold air made me miss her warmth.

“You need to accept it.”

I rubbed at one temple with my fingertips. “Ugh. Not you, too? I don't want to be a vampire, all right? I came to you because I hoped you could help me push it back again.”

“Holding it back is no longer an option.”

“So that's it, then?” I threw up my hands. “Great. Just fucking great.”

“Sebastian, you must trust me. I know it is hard, after all you've been through, but if you want my help, you have to trust me.”

“You just said you couldn't help. That the infection was going to do its work, too bad, so sad.”

She reached out and gripped my arm. “I said you had to accept it. I didn't say you should let it turn you.”

I drew my head back. “That doesn't make any sense.”

“You're a fighter,” she said. “For a long time, now.”

I hated that she presumed to know me. Especially when I knew so little about her. How much had Mom told her about me? And if they'd been so close, how come I'd never heard of her? No, this was all sorts of wrong. She couldn't help me. It was obvious.

“Forget it,” I said and started walking away.

“You can't fight anymore,” she called after me. “You need to learn acceptance. It's the only way.”

“Acceptance?” I whispered. “Acceptance?” I shouted.

I whirled around to face her.

“I refuse to accept this infection. I refuse to accept what those witches did to my mother. I refuse to accept that they still breathe when every last one of them should rot in the ground.”

“So much anger,” she said slowly, almost song-like.

“Yeah, and I have a right to every bit of it.”

She pursued her lips and nodded. “You do. But the rage has stopped serving you and become your master.”

“I don't have time for Zen bullshit. Can you stop this infection or not?”

“I cannot,” she said. But before I stormed off, she added, “But you can.”

I rolled my eyes. “How? By 'acceptance?'” I made air quotes.

“Indeed.”

I grunted with ten gallons of disgust. “You're crazy.”

“Where else will you go?” she asked.

I opened my mouth, but she caught me. I didn't have an answer. Not one clue.

“Trust me.” She held out her hand. “What more have you to lose when facing the loss of your soul?”

When she put it like that…

“What do you need me to do?”

“Take my hand. Come with me.”

I eyed her hand warily. Her soft, warm hand that smelled like sugar.

What more have you to lose when facing the loss of your soul?

Nothing. I had nothing left to lose.

I closed the distance between us and took her hand.

And then I felt myself turn inside out.

Chapter Twenty-Two

The sensation was unlike anything I'd experienced before. Like every atom in my body exploded at once, turning me into pure light, pure energy, soaring through space and time. Then I felt that quick, stomach-clenching jolt you get when you snap awake from a falling dream.

My body had reformed just as it was before taking Urvasi's hand—if it had really blown to pieces like it had seemed—and I wasn't at the cemetery anymore.

I'd teleported before, when I'd traveled to the Global Ministry Faction's headquarters, Greenhome. But this thing that Urvasi had done was different somehow. More…personal? Intimate? Instead of being magically moved to a new place, Urvasi had guided me. I didn't understand it fully, but I knew it was true.

We still held hands and stood in the center of a near-empty room. It had blond hardwood flooring that shined in the soft track lighting mounted on the ceiling. The walls were painted an earthy red, like Utah desert land. The air smelled faintly like wood smoke. A stack of brown pillows occupied one corner. A wooden rack against one wall held four upright staffs. Three of them were made of wood, though each had its own unique color and texture. The fourth shaft looked to be made of solid jade. It had a leather ribbon tied to its top end, and was capped with a golden orb about the size of a billiard ball. Only one of the other staffs had an ornament on top, something that looked like a bronzed raccoon skull.

Finally, a sword with silver blade and jeweled hilt hung on another wall.

I turned to Urvasi. “Who the heck are you?”

She smiled. “One who has seen a great many things.”

Gently pulling me by the hand, she guided me over to the corner with the pillows. “Let me take your coat.” I pulled it off and handed it over. She folded it in half and laid it aside. “Now,” she said and tossed one of the pillows onto the floor. “Have a seat.”

I wrinkled my nose at the pillow. “Please tell me we aren't going to meditate.”

“We aren't.” She put a hand at the small of my back and pressed me forward, her touch light, like a mother would encourage her son to do something he feared, like jump into the deep end of a pool, or mount a bicycle for the first time. “Go on.”

I sighed, but sat. I'd come this far. Besides, I had no idea where I was, so if I wanted to leave…that's when I noticed the room didn't have a door. Urvasi was the only way in or out, it seemed.

I folded my legs in and rested my hands in my lap.

The moment I did, my brand began stinging. I winced and hissed through my clenched teeth.

Urvasi hummed curiously. “Take off your shirt.”

I unbuttoned my shirt and shrugged out of it.

Urvasi took it from me and laid it with my jacket. Then she knelt behind me and leaned in to get a closer look. She hummed again, clicked her tongue. “What a fascinating magical construct.”

“It does the trick. Well, it did.”

My skin started crackling and popping like a bowl of puffed rice cereal. The pain intensified. It didn't smell like burning flesh, though. It smelled like rotten flesh.

“This will do you no good anymore.”

“Duh,” I said. I couldn't help it.

But Urvasi laughed, then stood. “Are you afraid, Sebastian?”

I checked in with myself and was surprised to learn I wasn't. “Just pissed.”

“You do not fear the demon inside of you?”

“I just want it out, okay? The longer you ask silly questions, the closer it gets to overwhelming me.”

“Close your eyes.”

I grumbled, but I closed them.

“What do you see?”

“The backs of my eyelids.” I didn't like being snarky with her. She seemed real nice. But my patience had reach its limit.

“Look inside. Breathe deep and look inside yourself.”

I didn't know what look inside meant. I knew how to take deep breaths, though. So I met her halfway.

“Where is your focus?”

I almost said I didn't know, but then an image materialized in my mind's eye. Mom, her head resting in my lap, eyes closed, blood all down the front of her, and a shard of wood jammed through her heart as if she were…

Mom opened her eyes and stared up at me. A red glow grew in her eyes until it blocked out her irises. She opened her mouth and hissed from back in her throat. She had fangs three inches long.

Mom, no!

She launched her gaping maw against my neck. The pain of her fangs stabbing into my throat filled me from my heels to the ends of my hair. I didn't know pain could touch some many parts of my body at once. Worse than the pain, though, was the wet lip-smacking sound Mom made as she sucked in my blood. I could feel it flowing out of me. Not just my blood. My life force.

I cried out. Tried to shove her away. But her bite was too deep. I would have had to rip half my throat off to escape her.

Impossibly, I heard her voice even with her mouth open against my neck.

Let go. Accept. Accept.

No. Never. No!

My eyes snapped open. I was sitting in the room with Urvasi again. The walls seemed closer. The staff with the bronzed animal skull rattled in the rack as if trying to escape.

Urvasi loomed over me. “Close your eyes, Sebastian.”

“What are you doing to me?”

“Close your eyes and tell me what you see.”

I couldn't. I was too afraid I'd go back to my mother feeding on my blood.

“Trust me,” Urvasi said. “It's the only way.”

Against every protest of my will, I closed my eyes.

“What do you see?”

I gasped.

I stood face-to-face with myself. Only, my double had red glowing eyes, gray wrinkled flesh, and a set of fangs. We stood in near darkness. I could see him, but nothing else. A rhythmic thump came from all directions. It was if we stood inside a giant heart.

Do you know what it's like, my copy said, not to have a heartbeat?

I shook my head.

Like this.

He (me?) pressed his hand against my chest. My heart became a silent stone inside of me, cold and useless. The thumping around us also quit.

My vampire double smiled and tilted his head. Well?

I shoved him away, stumbled backward, tripped, and dropped onto my ass.

He stepped forward and looked down at me. You must accept this. It is a part of you. You can no more deny that than deny you have a…heart.

I didn't understand. Why were these ugly visions saying this shit to me? As if they were speaking for Urvasi?

Because they were.

“What do you see?” Urvasi asked again.

I forced myself to keep my eyes closed. “I see me. As a vampire.”

“Embrace him.”

“Like, literally?”

“Yes.”

“You mean, like, hug him?”

“Yes,” she repeated with a hint of impatience.

I stood in my vision and approached myself. He held out his arms, knowing what I intended. (Of course he did, he was me.) My skin crawled as I stepped into his embrace. He squeezed tightly, as if he hadn't see me in a long time and had missed me terribly. Which was just fucking weird to think about.

I wanted to squirm loose. Instead, I wrapped my arms around him and hugged him back.

Once I did, it felt strangely natural.

“It is time,” Urvasi said. “Time for you to learn acceptance. Not only of the poison in your veins. Everything. Let your rage go. Become something more than wind and fire. Something larger than yourself. Breathe. And let what is be what is. Only with acceptance comes control.”

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then I pulled my double more closely against me.

Another deep breath. An even tighter embrace.

After three breaths, I felt my vampire self merge with my body. And while our bodies joined, my mind split. I was both a vampire and a man.

Then our bodies were one, but I still had the two sides within me. The man. The vampire.

It had always been this way, from the moment that old vampire forced his blood into my mouth. I stood between life and undeath. But I couldn't stay that way forever. I could no longer be the Unturned.

I felt the infection pulsing through me. My instinct was to drive more power against it. But Urvasi was right. I couldn't win this fight. But if I didn't fight, what did I do?

Accept.

Fine. I would accept. What the fuck else could I do?

I felt my anger simmering.

I began to split apart again, into vampire and man.

Deep breath. Deep breath. Accept.

I grew calm. I kept myself in one body. And then I let all my magic go. The infection surged through my system, free and hungry. Panic made my stomach clench. I still couldn't feel my heartbeat, and I was afraid I never would again.

I was afraid.

No longer angry.

Afraid.

And I accepted that, too.

“Yes,” Urvasi said. I'd forgotten all about her. “It courses through you. It is you. And there is only one person who can control you.”

“Me,” I whispered.

I drew on my magic, but this time I didn't use it to push the infection away. I flowed my power into it, let the energy mingle with it, become one with it the same way I had drawn my vampire copy into my body.

I shivered from a sudden chill. My cold face felt like a wax mask.

I breathed.

Just breathed.

I imagined my magic attaching itself to the infected blood. And once my blood, the vampire blood, and my magic mixed, I whispered, “Burn.”

My veins and arteries seemed to light up like toaster wires. The pain was extraordinary. Yet it felt cleansing, like any good fire should.

Urvasi had been right. I couldn't fight the infection. I had to embrace it, let it become a part of me.

And destroy it.

I exhaled, opened my eyes.

Urvasi stood in front of me, looking down, eyes and smile bright. “You did it.”

“I…” I rubbed my hand over my mouth. My skin felt as if I had just set down a hot mug of tea. “You mean I could have done that all along?”

She laughed. “No, Sebastian. You couldn't do it until just now.”

“But that doesn't make any sense. How could it have been that easy?”

“It was really so easy, huh?”

I supposed not. Simple, perhaps. But not easy.

“I have you to thank.”

“You see,” she said with a devious twinkle. “I have plenty to teach you.”

I stood. Too fast. The room spun. Urvasi gripped my arm to keep me steady. When my head cleared, I looked at her with such wonder. I was speechless. But a question knocked around in my head, desperate to get out. I forced my mouth to work and finally put some words together.

“Is it really gone? For good?”

She pressed her hand against my forehead like before. A few seconds passed, and I started to get anxious that I wasn't going to like her answer. But when she lowered her hand, I could see from her expression I didn't have to worry.

“You are no longer the Unturned.” She shrugged. “Just plain ol' Sebastian now.”

I laughed harder than I had in a long time. My belly ached with it. My voice boomed in the door-less room. Next thing I knew, I was hugging Urvasi while I trembled with excitement.

She laughed, too, patting me on the back. “Okay, okay. You're still a little warm.”

I drew back. I smiled so hard my cheeks hurt.

“What else is gone?” Urvasi asked.

The question took me off guard. I hesitated, but then I realized what she meant. All this laughing and smiling.

“My anger.”

“And so?”

I let the memory of my dead mother swim up from the depths of my mind. I felt a pinch in my chest, an ache in my (beating) heart. But the rage didn't follow. I didn't need to go after the Maidens. I didn't want to. I just wanted my life back. To heal. To find a way to move on as the last Light on this Earth.

It would start with working more with Odi. Not just his magic. The Toft from my nightmare had been right about one thing, though he had the details all wrong. Odi needed to learn more than sorcery. He needed to learn how to live. He needed more than just me. He needed a purpose of his own. And I would do whatever I could to help him find it.

He wasn't the only one who had much to learn, though.

“Urvasi.” I took her hand. “Will you take me on as your apprentice?”

“I will.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

I had a different life ahead of me. A life of peace. A life as a pure mortal and not a demon waiting to happen. I had two people I desperately wanted to tell. Sly and Odi.

In the middle of the day, Odi was snoring away in his coffin. Well, vampires didn't snore—did they? I laughed at my crazy brain as I drove toward Hazel Park from the cemetery where Urvasi had returned me.

When I pulled up in front of Sly's shop, my hands shook with excitement. I felt like the whole world had shifted, the earth's tectonic plates rearranging every continent into something new and near unrecognizable.

I swung his front door open with a little too much force, but its hydraulics kept it from slamming against the wall.

I came to a halt when I noticed all the people. A half-dozen of them eyeing the artwork on the walls, only one of them flipping through the pot tomes at the back. The art-goers oohed and ahhed as they studied each work in turn.

Sly stood in his box in the center of the shop, leaning his butt against one of the display cases, arms folded, a light smile touching his face as he watched his patrons. The ping of the doorbell hadn't drawn his attention.

I stood slack jawed as the door swung shut behind me.

I hadn't seen Sly smile for a long time. The sight inflated the already light feeling in my chest. I hurried to the counter. “Sly.”

His smile faltered at the sound of my voice. He turned his gaze toward me, slowly, as if it hurt him to do it. By the time his eyes met mine, his smile was a memory.

“You look chipper,” he said. His normally sharp eyes looked glazed. I couldn't smell it, but I wondered if he'd smoked weed recently. Or if an unfocused gaze was really the only way he could stand to look at me.

I glanced around. No one in the shop was paying attention to us, but I didn't want to have to whisper my news. “Can I talk to you in back?”

“I've got customers.”

“I know. And that's awesome. The new artwork thing looks like it's really panning out.”

“Why don't you come back later?”

I leaned over the counter and spoke in a low voice. “It's important.”

He sighed. “What kind of trouble are you in now?”

“That's just it,” I barely whispered. “This is good news.”

He shrugged. “Then I'm happy for you.”

“Gods damn it, Sly. Would you please just talk to me in back?”

He stared at me for a handful of seconds, his gaze still slightly skewed. Then he grunted and walked through the gap in the square of cases. “Ladies and gentlemen, if you need anything, I'll be in the back room for only a few minutes. Thank you for your patience.”

Nobody seemed to notice. They kept doing what they were doing.

I followed Sly into the back.

I gasped upon entering.

Sly had always done most of his alchemy work in the back room of his shop, a sort of magical lab where he concocted potions, salves, and whatever else he needed to affect the world with its own materials. It had also served as warehouse to hundreds of different ingredients, formerly? contained in stacks of cardboard boxes that went clear up to the ceiling, each labeled with black marker, but otherwise not in any discernible order. It had always been a mystery to me how he could get something from one of the bottom boxes with all the others stacked on top, but he always seemed to have what he needed on hand.

Gone, however, were the days of the cardboard bricks. Metal shelving had replaced the boxes against every spare wall space. The shelves were chock full of vials, bottles, and jars. Books and cassette tapes and a couple rotating shelves filled with CD cases. Hell, he even had a collection of eight-track cartridges. This last should not have surprised me, knowing Sly's retro tastes. I probably wouldn't have even known what they were had Sly not been a large part of my growing up.

The only thing that looked the same was the lab table in the center of the room. It was the same table he'd been using for as long as I've known him. And it was covered with bottles and vials similar to the ones on the shelves. Along with a centrifuge he used to mix his potions.

I must have looked like a stunned deer.

“I thought it was a good time to get organized back here, too.”

“Wow.”

“Look, brother,” he said, leaning against his work table like he had the display case, arms crossed, eyes slightly unfocused as he looked at me. “I need to get back, so make it quick.”

Now that I had him alone, I didn't know how to tell him. I wanted my next words to melt every inch of ice that had formed between us. I wanted to see him smile, open his arms, offer me a hug and a hearty slap on the back. But reality put my brakes on. He'd be happy for me, ecstatic even. I knew that beyond doubt. As far as fixing our relationship? No matter how good the news, this wasn't what would bring him back around.

“Well?” he asked.

Forget fancy. Just tell him like it was. “I'm not the Unturned anymore.”

He furrowed his brow. “Not following, brother. You don't look like a vamp to me. Especially since it's the middle of the day.”

I waved a hand. “No, that's not what I mean.” I thought a second, snapped my fingers. “You remember that woman I told you about.”

“The one who claimed she knew Judith?”

“Turns out she's the real deal. A damn powerful sorceress, and a damn good teacher, too.”

“Still not following.”

I took a few steps toward him, my body full of electricity. The smile on my face felt dorky, but I didn't give a damn.

Sly stiffened at my approach.

Through all the electric joy running through me, I felt a pain in my chest. I took a step back to give him the space he obviously wanted to keep between us.

“She taught me how to get rid of the infection,” I said, voice quivering. “Burn it right out of my system. It's gone, Sly. It is totally gone.”

The change in his expression lifted me up like a magic breeze. His jaw hung open, but a smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “Are you sure?”

I nodded. “I'm not fighting it anymore. That shit is out of my system.”

He broke into a laugh from deep in his belly, shook his head in wonder. “That is radical, brother. Totally rad.” Then he moved toward me. He wrapped his arms around me. His shirt had the smell of pot baked into it, but it wasn't fresh. Just Sly's normal old smell.

I hugged him back, hard. If I had to be honest, I teared up a little, too. “Sly, I'm so sorry.”

His embrace eased, but he didn't let go. “I know.”

“Are we good?”

He sighed. “I love you like a son, Sebastian. Always have. Always will. I just needed…still need, maybe…time, brother. Just some time.”

He gave me a thump on my back and pulled away. “I'm sorry about what I said to you before. I don't resent you.”

“You don't have to lie to me. You have every right to feel the way you do. But I can't stand the thought that we still aren't…family.”

“Then rest easy, brother. We'll always be family.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

I couldn't wait to share the news with Odi too. I raced home, the speed limit an unbearable burden, but I didn't need a speeding ticket right now. I was so jazzed, my hands shook as I tried to stick the key into the lock of my front door.

The second I was through the door I ran right for the basement. The soles of my boots knocked loudly against the wooden steps, the sound echoing in the stairwell. I felt the big dorky smile on my face. I couldn't help it, and I didn't care. I just couldn't wait to see the expression on Odi's face and hear the inevitable whoa dude come out of his mouth. Granted it was the middle of the day, and the vampire kid was fast asleep in his coffin. The basement was dark enough, though, that it wouldn't kill him if I opened up the coffin and roused him. Hopefully, he wouldn't be too crabby.

But the second my feet hit the basement floor and I cleared the stairwell, I froze.

Odi's coffin was gone.

A cold fist squeezed my heart. My jittery excitement turned to trembling fear. I scurried over to where his coffin normally lay and bent down onto one knee. I brushed my fingertips along the cool cement in the rectangle of missing dust, a stark sign of something absent.

Gods dammit. What the hell had happened?

A stupid question. I knew what had happened. The Maidens of Shadow had happened.

I shot to my feet, clenched my hands into fists, and spun on my heel. I charged back up the stairs. Marched straight out the door and stopped on the sidewalk outside. The sun felt hot against my face, while the wind sent chills through my body. It felt like a fever.

I stood there for a moment, wondering what to do next. Rushing out of the house had been an instinct. But now that rationality had caught up with me, I needed to figure something out.

I looked both ways down the street, as if I might find the answer in either direction. A blue compact car with a little too much rust drove by spewing exhaust. A pigeon cooed from somewhere nearby. Needing to do something, I got back in my car, buckled my seatbelt, gripped the steering wheel, and waited for some kind of inspiration to strike me. I racked my brain. And then the obvious answer hit me.

I couldn't do this myself. I needed help. And I knew a hell of a powerful sorceress that could do it. I just needed to convince her to change her mind about helping me find the Maidens.

Once again, I drove to the cemetery.

Urvasi needed to give me a damn cell number or something.

Chapter Twenty-Five

As I stood by my mother's grave, the sun warmed my scalp. But when I called on Urvasi, a chill ran through my whole body. Once more, when I turned around, there she stood. She was wearing a light blue sari again. She wore a golden pin in her hair in the shape of a lily, and her eyes shone with concern, as if she knew why I'd come.

I didn't give her a chance to ask and immediately told her what had happened.

She eyed me for a moment, lines of worry in her face. Then she shook her head. “Why have you come to me?”

“I came to you for help.” I thought it was obvious.

“You expect my help with that tooth?” She sighed, and seemed to deflate where she stood. “I'm afraid I cannot do that.”

“Look, this is not about revenge anymore. I need to find Odi. I need to find my apprentice.”

I could tell by her expression that no matter what I said, she wasn't going to help me. She didn't say anything, though.

I took a step toward her. “You say you can't help. What you mean is that you won't help, right?”

She held out her hands and shrugged. “Can't or won't, the truth remains the same.”

“So you don't give a damn what happens to my apprentice? Should I expect you won't give a damn about me either? If I'm in trouble?”

“You don't understand.”

“You're damn right. And you're not helping me understand one bit.”

She looked down as if she couldn't bear to look me in the eyes. “I'm sorry.”

“Sorry? My apprentice is kidnapped, you have the power to help, but you won't. And you're sorry?”

She clutched her hands in front of her. Then she finally had the guts to look me in the eye. Her gaze was so intense, I flinched.

“Have you not wondered why I only appear to you here? At your mother's grave?”

Of course I had, but I didn't see what that had to do with anything right now. “So what?”

“I have limitations, Sebastian.” She seemed to steel herself. She straightened her back, lifted her chin, then nodded shortly. “I am bound to this place when I am on the mortal plane.”

The words she said technically formed a sentence in English, but I didn't understand it. And the more I danced with her riddles, the longer the Maidens had to work out a plan for using Odi against me. “I don't care where you're from, who you are, or what you are. I know you’re a sorceress and a damn powerful one. As far as I'm concerned, that's all I need to know.”

I took another step toward her. I could feel my anger hot in my veins, which reminded me of the infection that had so recently boiled through me. For some reason, that made me even angrier.

“Please,” I said. “Help me.”

“You are not listening.” She held her hands out to either side of her. “You have never seen me beyond this place,” she said. “Because I cannot leave here. You wondered why your mother never told you about me. It is because she was forbidden to speak of me. I'm an outcast, Sebastian. I was banished to a realm in between by the Ministry.”

I gaped at her a moment, my mouth hanging open, my brain rifling through her words to make some sense of them. Banished?

“What could you have possibly done to get banished?”

She frowned. “That is my business. Not yours.”

I would have argued the point, but if my mom trusted her, maybe I could give her a chance, too.

“Your mother and I were great friends,” she continued. “A long time ago. But my being an outcast meant that Ministry law said I do not exist.”

“Then how did my mom communicate with you, to tell you to take over as my mentor? If she wasn't allowed to.”

“The law prevented her, but that didn't stop your mother. She was able to create a conduit, a gap between worlds, mine and hers. The kind of magic the Ministry may have executed her for had they learned of it.”

Now I knew where I got my rebellious streak from. Thanks, Mom.

“When she asked me to take over for her and your father, she moved the conduit to this plot so that if she died, I would be here when you visited.”

She had thought of everything. And it pained me to think that she had to make this kind of arrangement, because she knew her life was in danger.

“So you can't leave the cemetery?”

“I can't stray very far from this plot,” she said. “Not on your plane at least. But where I took you before? The room without doors? That's my home now.”

I wrinkled my brow. “Just that one room?”

She shrugged one shoulder. “It's a little more complicated than that. But essentially, yes. That one room is my cell.”

A shudder ran through me. I couldn't imagine being exiled to a magical prison that existed in a single room. Although, for a prison, it had been a pretty nice room.

“Well, if you can't help me, the Maidens have won.”

“Not necessarily.”

I crossed my arms. “I'm listening.”

“You have it within yourself to find them,” she said. “If they have a piece of your soul, you need only find your soul.”

I laughed. “If it were that easy, I would've done it a long time ago.”

“Before now you did not know the art of acceptance.”

Oh, not the acceptance thing again. Granted, it had performed a miracle by helping me get rid of the vampire infection. But I couldn't see how it would help me now.

Urvasi seemed to know my thoughts. “You trusted me before. Trust me again now.”

“What are you suggesting?”

“Your soul is part of you. Just like your blood. And who controls you?”

I nodded. “Okay. Yeah. I control myself.”

“So if you control yourself, and you accept that control, you can find yourself.”

It sounded like a bunch of mumbo-jumbo, even for a pair of sorcerers. But I had trusted her before, and she sure as hell had delivered.

“What do I have to do?”

She held out her hand. “Come home with me.”

I smiled, and it felt genuine, even with all the hell raining down around me. “Lead the way,” I said.

I took her hand, and together we traveled to her prison.

Chapter Twenty-Six

The room was different this time. No pillows or rack of staffs, and it actually had furniture. A two-seater wicker couch with plush cushions sat in the center of the room. Various paintings adorned the walls, most of them with an Indian flair. Several of them featured the goddess Kali in various poses. The only thing the same as the other room was the silver sword hanging on the wall. I wasn't sure what someone in a prison, especially a one-room prison, would need with a sword. But who was I to judge?

Urvasi gestured toward the couch for me to sit. The cushion was kind of thin, and I could feel the wicker creak underneath me. Urvasi sat next to me and folded her hands in her lap.

“What now?” I asked.

“Now you focus. First, study your body. Search every inch of your physicality. When you have become whole with yourself, when you feel every part of yourself, you will also feel what is missing.”

She stared intently at me. “This can mean many things. All of us are missing something. Sometimes several somethings. You may discover it isn't just a piece of your soul that has left you.”

I didn't know what that really meant, but I didn't ask her to elaborate. I didn't want to waste any time. I wanted to find the Maidens before they could try to get at me.

I laid my hands flat on my lap and closed my eyes. I tried to find the same center I'd had when focusing on the infection inside of me. I did as Urvasi said, flowing my consciousness throughout my body, noticing every inch of my skin, every bone, every nerve ending. You think you know how your body feels, until you pay attention to it in minute detail. I found aches and itches I hadn't even known I'd had. I noticed emptiness in my stomach and realized I hadn't eaten in too long. I also sensed the heat that coursed through me, and had been coursing through me seemingly forever. I had gained some calm when Urvasi taught me acceptance. But it hadn't obliterated my rage like I'd thought. A part of me still wanted to murder every Maiden of Shadow on Earth.

I didn't fight that rage. Urvasi wanted me to notice every part of myself, and I felt that that included my rage, that it included every bit of my emotions. This wasn't just about my body, this was about my entire existence.

I took a deep long breath and held it for a couple of seconds. My body hummed like an electrical transformer powering a city block. I had reached a point where I knew what every part of me was feeling in that moment, all the way to every hair on every inch of my skin. I could actually feel my organs the same way I could feel with my hands, touching the bones and juices within my body. My breath tasted like sand. My eyes throbbed in their sockets. I could even smell my sweat.

But now came the next step, the step I was uncertain about, the step that would determine if this worked.

I tried to feel my soul, starting with the part still within me. Since I had no idea what a soul felt like, I didn't know what I was looking for. I didn't know if I would recognize it if I found it. But as I drifted deeper into my trance, I touched something that buzzed like pure energy, and I knew right away that I had reached my soul.

I felt every twitch of my muscles around my mouth as I smiled.

Gotcha.

For a moment, I reveled in the energy of my soul, but then something turned inside me, something my soul brought to my attention. A gap. Full of nothing but sorrow and the image of my dead mother. I felt my tear ducts fill, then leak, felt the tickle of each tear as it ran down my cheek.

It was obvious that I would find this emptiness. Urvasi had warned me that it probably wasn't just my soul missing.

Then I felt that emptiness expanding. I thought of my father. I even thought of Toft Kitchens, and that moment when he told me he would need to sacrifice himself, and that I would have to be the one to kill him, all for the fate of a bunch of mortals an old vampire like him shouldn't have even cared about. Then I found another emptiness inside me. It was an emptiness that represented all I thought I knew, and how I hardly knew anything. I was part of Detroit's paranormal community, but that didn't make me anything close to an expert.

The last bit of emptiness I felt made me shiver. It was that feeling I used to have whenever I'd been with Fiona, before she had betrayed me. I had locked myself up in all the troubles of my present so that I hadn't even realized how much I missed this part of my past.

My instinct was to fight this memory. But I knew better. I couldn't fight it. It wouldn't do any good. Instead, I had to accept it, much as I hated to.

As I let myself float within all this emptiness, I reached out beyond myself.

Like an out of body experience, I felt something tug at my consciousness and draw me out of Urvasi's prison and back into my own world. Instead of showing up at the cemetery, I found my astral body standing in front of what looked like an abandoned hospital. On the building's brick face a series of metal letters read, “Warren Psychiatric Center.”

Was this the Maidens' new hideout? What an apt choice.

I floated through the front door, through narrow hallways with cracked tile floors, past rooms with broken down beds and old, thin dirty mattresses. I could smell the dust in the air and the damp stickiness of rotten things. Candles on either side of the hall, like runway lights, provided the only illumination.

I felt a force tugging at me, drawing me deeper into the hospital. I knew it was my soul. I floated down a hallway and then around a corner. Down a bit, on the right-hand side, was a nurses' station enclosed in thick glass, clearly meant to keep the patients out. Across from the station was a pair of double doors. One of the doors was hanging loose, while the other was closed tight. I heard screaming inside.

And I recognized the voice.

I hurried down the hall and into the room. It was a common room that looked a lot like the recreation room Mom had spent so much time in at the nursing home. At the far end of the room I saw Odi, wrists shackled with chains that hung from the metal rafters above the drop ceiling. He was naked from the waist up. The light from the circle of candles surrounding him made the shadows squirm over his skin, and reminded me of the shadows that had chased me through the streets of Corktown.

The shackles were clearly made of silver. Where they touched his skin around his wrists, the skin burned and hissed, steam coming off of them. He was also drenched, his red hair dripping, his body glistening with moisture. His wet skin steamed and sizzled, too. Didn't take a genius to realize he was covered in holy water.

Standing next to him was a woman with mousy brown hair who looked to be in her mid-50s. Her attention was on Odi, but I could see enough of her face, and she looked terribly familiar. It only took me a couple of seconds, then I realized that she looked like an older version of Wendy, one of the Maidens who had helped me defeat Goulet, and had died in the process.

This had to be her mother.

As his skin burned, Odi threw his head back and the pained cries that came from his mouth turned the skin on my physical body to gooseflesh.

The woman had a small smirk on her face. She held a mason jar full of clear liquid. Another empty jar stood on the floor at her feet. Droplets of water littered the dirty tiles.

Odi's screams slowly tapered as the holy water's effects eased. He looked at the witch with red eyes, but not the glowing red typical of vampires—he still maintained his human glamour—but the red-lined eyes of a torture victim.

“Why are you doing this to me?”

“Because I enjoy hurting what Sebastian Light cares for,” she said. “And because your screams fill me with power.”

I had no idea what she was talking about. I'd never heard of screams powering a witch. Maybe in some kind of ritual, in the middle of the casting. But I figured she was speaking metaphorically. Still not exactly comforting.

The witch splashed some more water at Odi's face. He jerked against the chains as he screamed again. Pieces of his flesh burned away, revealing some bone underneath.

Now his fangs came out. His eyes began to glow. He went from looking like a scared teenager to a vicious demon. Flames engulfed his hands, but with his arms hanging over his head and shackled, he couldn't throw anything at the witch.

The witch sneered and tossed more water on him.

The flames died instantly as the pain of his burning skin cut Odi off from his power.

That was probably the real reason for the torture. As long as they kept him in constant pain, he wouldn't have a chance to use his magic against them. Smart. They didn't underestimate him, even though he was so new to practicing sorcery.

I wanted to rush at the witch and claw her face off. But I was currently little more than a ghost in this place. I had to get back to my body. Yet there was one more thing left to do.

I had to find my soul.

I didn't have to look far. In fact, my soul had drawn me to this room because it was within this room. I just hadn't noticed because I'd been so focused on Odi and the witch.

An alter was put together on one of the few circular tables left behind from when the hospital was still occupied. Burning candles around a small human skull sat in the center. And there, directly behind the skull, a crystal jar filled with a green glow.

My soul.

I clenched my astral fists and felt my real fists clenching, too, fingernails biting into my palms. Trying to set aside Odi's screams for the moment—which was nearly impossible—I approached the altar. I reached out to the container and tried to touch it. My hand passed through the crystal, and I could feel it, my soul. It vibrated within me like a struck tuning fork. The vibration rang in my ears. For a brief moment I felt whole again, as if my soul had reentered my body to join the rest of it, where it belonged.

The sensation didn't last, though. It disappeared the moment I pulled my hand away.

The only way to truly get my soul back was to find this hospital and take it.

Thinking that I might be able to track down the rest of the witches and see what they were up to, I drifted out of the common room and tried to continue down the hall, and came to an abrupt halt. The force of my soul tugged me back toward it as if it held a leash tight around my neck. It seemed my astral body was bound by my soul's location. Fine. Time to do this for real.

I took a deep breath and opened my eyes. I was back in Urvasi's door-less prison, sitting in the very same place I had been. Yet I still had a sense that I had traveled far, and that I'd been away for a long time.

Urvasi studied me. “Did you find what you needed?”

I nodded. “I touched my soul. And I'd like to do it again.”

Like, right now.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

The hospital was isolated enough that no one saw me pull around back. The witches must have braced the doors from the inside somehow, because when I pulled on the handle something rattled and the door held fast.

Fine. I had my own way of opening doors.

I gathered my power and used it to control the air. I threw a hammering gust at the front door and it cracked inward, splitting down the middle. A two-by-four threaded through the handles on the inside snapped as well. With another quick gust, I blew the broken door the rest of the way in.

I walked over the debris as if it wasn't even there. In fact, nothing else was there—I was alone, the world around me nothing but a faint blur, my entire focus on one place.

Just like in my vision, two lines of burning candles along the floor illuminated the hallway with flickering light.

I followed the same candlelit path I had floated through in my astral body, around the corner, down toward the enclosed nurses' station, and to the pair of double doors that led to the recreation room. I yanked open the door that was loose on its hinges with enough force to pull it free. It slammed to the floor with an echoing crash. Inside, I saw Odi hanging there just like I had in my vision, in the center of a circle of large candles. The holy water had dried, but had left behind hideous scars that would probably take a while to heal, even for a vampire. Damage from holy water tended to slow down their normally quick healing.

There was no sign of Wendy's mom. No sign of any of the witches.

I stepped through the doorway, looked to my left, and saw the altar with the candles arranged around the small skull and the crystal jar with my glowing green soul inside. A strange feeling filled my chest, light and airy, as if seeing an old friend for the first time in a long, long while. I smirked. Maybe this would go easier than I had thought. Grab Odi. Grab my soul. Get the fuck out.

Odi hung limp from his chains, his head bowed. I couldn't tell if he was conscious from where I stood. I crossed the room, stepping around strewn debris—a couple table legs, a broken chair, a collapsed table. The sickly-sweet smell of the burning candles filled the room, while a damp muddy flavor hung in the air. The sound of dripping water came from somewhere beyond the room, echoing in the white painted cinder block hallways.

“Odi,” I said softly. “Wake up.”

He groaned, slowly raised his head. His face was a mess of scars, and while I couldn't see through to his bone like I had before, like the scars on his chest, these would take time to heal.

“I'd ask if you're okay,” I said. “But you look like shit.”

He managed to smile. “Too soon, dude.”

“Let's get you the hell out of here.”

I reached up and gripped both chains, one in either hand, and drew upon the heat within me and what little there was in the room. I focused that heat into the chains. My hands began to glow hot orange like the end of an iron fresh from the fire. After a moment, I felt the chains in my grip soften, then finally give way as the links melted.

Odi fell to his knees. He instinctively drew his arms in against himself, and the silver shackles still around his wrists burned against his naked chest. He cried out, voice reverberating in the corners.

I winced, worried the sound would draw the witches.

“We don't have a lot of time, buddy.” I grabbed his arm and helped him to his feet.

He swooned, but I wrapped my arm around the back of his shoulders and held him steady.

Odi rolled his gaze over toward the altar. “Your soul…”

“That's our next stop.”

Together we shuffled over toward the altar. The closer I got, the more I could feel it pull at me like a spectral magnet. But before we made it, I heard the soft whisper of several barefoot steps.

All of the remaining Maidens of Shadow filed into the room, shoeless and dressed in robes.

I felt the fire of my rage ignite within me, and all the hate that I thought I had let go—that I had accepted—came rushing back, filling every inch of me.

Wendy's mom was up front, and she sneered. “I knew I had sensed something earlier. Somehow you tracked us, despite our best efforts. Please, tell me how?”

“Easy,” I said. “Part of me was already here.”

She laughed. “Brilliant. That just makes it easier for us.”

I looked at the motley crew before me and curled up one corner of my mouth. “I count only six of you left. Shame about Kimber.”

Wendy's mother bared her teeth and hissed at me like a wild animal. “And I should skin you for that,” she said. “Kimber was like a daughter to me. I took her in, gave her the love and care that she needed, and you murdered her, too.”

“You shouldn't have sent her after me.”

“I'll kill you,” she shrieked. She jerked toward me.

The mother with the freckles like her twin daughters reached out and grabbed her by the arm. “You can't. His soul is no good to us if he's dead.”

“Ah, what a good point,” I said.

Wendy's mother curled her lip. “That doesn't mean I can't hurt him very, very badly.”

I glanced toward the altar, to the crystal jar with my soul inside, and made a move for it.

Wendy's mom hissed again and thrust out a clawed hand toward me. There were a dozen feet between us, but that didn't matter. She wasn't trying to reach me with her hand.

When I saw the green glow of my soul flare in the jar, I knew I was in trouble.

I flew off my feet, sailing backwards, until I hit the far wall. A lance of pain cut up my spine as I bounced off. I landed on the cold tiles, the smell of ancient dust pluming into my nose. I pushed myself up to my knees and drew on my fire. Blue flame engulfed my right hand, making the air around it ripple with heat, and adding more wavering light like the candles.

The twins stepped forward, both of them holding up their hands, palms toward me. “No,” they said in unison.

My soul on the altar flared again. Then a gut-twisting force wrenched its way through my body, filling me with nausea, and temporarily cutting me off from my power.

My flame died.

Before I had a chance to recover, Wendy's mother swung her hand through the air as if to backhand me, and I felt the impact crash into my face ten times harder than she probably could have with her actual hand.

I twisted around and fell onto my side.

Wendy's mom didn't stop there. She threw her hands up, and I flew up at the same time, crashing through the tiles of the drop ceiling and slamming into the metal rafters. Then gravity took over and dropped me to the floor again. Knots of pain twisted in all parts of my body. I tried to push myself up, but every part of me that hurt cried out against the effort.

Then I heard the crackling fire.

I looked up, and there was Odi standing with both arms out, his hands on fire, his face a determined mask. His eyes glowed red, and he peeled his lips back to show his fangs. “Come get some, bitches,” he growled. He threw a pair of fireballs at the gathered witches. Their orange light flashed through the shadowed room.

Wendy's mom held up a hand, palm out like a traffic cop. Once again my soul flared in its glass prison. I saw a clear ripple in front of the witch like a wall of water. Odi's fire hit the barrier and winked out with a steamy hiss.

She lowered her hand, shook her head, and tsked. “The little vampire wants to play.”

The pair of orange-haired twins giggled. They held hands, bared their teeth, and stared hard at Odi.

My soul throbbed in the jar.

The flesh on his bare chest peeled away as if there were a zipper down the middle, exposing his muscle and sinew. He screamed and staggered backward, his skin flapping on either side of his torso like an open jacket. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he collapsed to the floor.

Their power was immense. Somehow they had worked out a way to draw upon my soul—no ritual necessary.

It was six of them against a beat-to-hell me and an unconscious Odi. We didn't stand a chance.

Wendy's mom walked toward me and stopped with her bare toes only a few inches away from my face. She crouched down and looked me in the eye. “This ends now.”

I clenched my teeth and snarled. “You killed my mother, you cunt. You'll have to kill me, too, if you want to stop me.”

She shook her head. Then she sighed. Without bothering to reply, she stood straight and strolled back over to her coven.

I pushed magic through my body to dull my pain. Then I pushed myself up to my hands and knees. I glared at the witches. “I will kill every last one of you.”

Like an audience watching a stand-up routine, all six of them laughed at me.

I struggled to my feet, held out my hands, and drew again on my fire.

Wendy's mother shook her head and sighed. “Haven't you learned by now?”

“Yeah,” said one of the twins.

“You belong to us now,” said the other.

“Never.” I threw my fire.

Wendy waved a hand, and that rippling water-like barrier formed in front of her. Both of my bolts of blue fire struck it, sending glistening ripples through the air. And as if it were real water, my flames instantly winked out.

Wendy forked her fingers and pointed them at me.

All of a sudden my throat closed. It felt like a vice squeezing my windpipe. I choked and clawed at my throat as if getting force-choked by Darth Vader.

Darkness crept in around the edges of my vision, my ears filled with a ringing, and my head spun.

The last thing I saw before I passed out was the bright glow of my soul in the crystal jar.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

I woke up with a headache, a sore throat, and my hands handcuffed to a rusty old bed frame. The mattress I was on might as well been a single sheet of cardboard, and it reeked as if twenty years of sweat had soaked into it.

The maidens had moved me. Now we were in a smaller room. Judging from the couple of beds, probably what used to be a room for patients. All but one of the Maidens—the twins' mother— were in the room with me, and every single one of them was naked.

Figures the one time I find myself chained up in a room full of naked women, they only wanted to use me for my soul.

Like the rec room, the Maidens had this one lit up with dozens of candles. They had drawn a pentagram inside a circle on the floor in the middle of the room, painted in red. But I knew it wasn't paint. For a second, I wondered whose blood it was, then pushed the thought away. I didn't want to know.

I tested the cuffs, clanking them against the bed frame, but they held fast.

Wendy's mother turned around, the noise drawing her attention. When she saw I was awake, she smiled, but there was no humor in it, and it didn't reach anywhere near her eyes.

“The guest of honor awakens.”

I grunted. “Go fuck yourself.”

“That's the best comeback you have?”

“It's the only comeback you deserve,” I said with a sneer.

I looked past her at the other four witches. Three of them had started placing more candles around the edge of their circle. The fourth padded out of the room.

I nodded in her direction. “Where's she going?”

“You'll see,” she said. “Rest easy. We'll get started soon enough.”

Yeah right. They could go ahead and get started without me. Did she really think these handcuffs could hold me? I drew on my magic and pushed heat into my hands. If I could melt a couple chains to free Odi, I could burn through handcuffs no problem.

As if she was reading my mind, or could sense my building magic, Wendy's mom folded her arms across her naked breasts and lifted one eyebrow. “Do you want us to shove a wooden stake through your apprentice's heart? I need only give the command.”

I clenched my hot hands into fists. They shook enough to rattle the cuffs against the bed frame. All I wanted to do was break free, conjure up a nice big blue ball of flame, and throw it right in her face. But if she could have Odi killed with a word, I had to think of another plan.

I let the heat leak out of my hands.

“Tell me something,” I said. “I know you're Wendy's mom, but I don't know your name.”

“Flora,” she said. “Flora Schippers.”

“Good. I like to know the names of the people I kill.”

She narrowed her eyes. “So much anger.”

“Yeah, and you'll get a taste of it real soon.”

“I don't think so,” she said before she turned away from me and strode out of the room.

Forced to just lay there and watch the witches work, I tried to think of a way to get out of this. Nothing good was coming. If I used my magic, they would kill Odi. The cuffs were tight, and I was no Houdini. There was no cavalry coming, no miracles I was owed, just a whole bunch of bad luck.

The older witch who had left when I woke up came back into the room, carrying the crystal jar that held my soul. She carried it in both hands and walked carefully, as if she were afraid to drop it. I guess I was a little glad for that. The last thing I wanted was for them to drop my soul on this dirty floor.

I watched helplessly as she carried it over to the pentagram and set it directly in the center. It continued to glow with the soft green light, and I couldn't help but be reminded of Mom's magic, of the pure green energy that she could conjure. The only thing that bested the strength of her magical energy was her internal strength. And right now, boy did I miss that strength. I could only hope I had inherited some of it to get me through whatever the Maidens had planned.

Once my soul was set down in its jar, the witch that had brought it in backed away, tilted her head, and gave it an admiring look, eyes transfixed.

I looked into the jar myself and felt a powerful tug. Even if I had never seen it before, I would've known it was mine. It seemed there was a part of me still attached to it. It didn't matter that it was no longer inside of me.

Shortly after, Flora came into the room again. She carried something rolled up in a towel against her chest. The rolled towel was about three feet long. She carried it over to me with a hint of a smile on her face and a flashing in her eyes.

I didn't like that look one bit.

When she reached my bedside, she crouched down so that our eyes were even. She held up the towel. “Try to guess what's in here.”

“I'm not in the mood for games.”

“You'd never guess anyway,” she said. Then she proceeded to unwrap the item, and when it rolled out of the towel into her hand, I gasped. A cold chill turned my skin to gooseflesh.

She gripped the shaft of the Brand of Gelding—the brand that had saved me from turning.

The sight of it turned a worm in my gut.

Flora's eyes flashed again. Her smile grew wide, until she was showing bright, clean teeth.

I remembered the feel of the brand burning against my shoulder, how it cut me off from part of my power, and how helpless I had felt when I didn't have access to that power when I'd seriously needed it.

“So you're the one who bought that from Danesh.” I jerked at my chains futilely. “What the hell are you planning to do with that?”

“We're going to use it the way it was meant to be used,” she said, voice filled with venom. “And we’ll make sure to pluck your teeth out, so we don't have to worry about our pet biting us.”

I yanked again at my cuffs, but it didn't do any good; it only made me look weak. I could see in Flora's eyes that she thought so.

I would definitely have to prove her wrong.

“I am not your pet,” I said.

She pointed the business end of the brand at my face and waved it back and forth. “You will be.”

Before I could say anything else, she stood straight and sauntered over to her friends. The five of them huddled together in a ring, shoulder to shoulder. They looked like a gossip circle, and whispered among themselves like one, too. On the floor, encircled by their bare feet, my soul continued to glow a light green.

Flora held the brand casually at her side as she spoke with her coven.

I wondered where the sixth witch was, and figured she was with Odi, waiting for the command to stake him if I didn't play along.

Damn it! I couldn't let them cut me off from my magic. Not only would that leave me powerless, but the Maidens would still retain access to my magic through my soul. With that kind of power at their disposal, and no way for me to stop them, who knew what they would be capable of? And if they were still on the Ministry's dime, who knew what they would use that power for?

I realized I had a choice. I could let them do this to me and give myself over as their helpless weapon. Or I could break free now and sacrifice Odi's life to end their plan, whatever it was. I couldn't see myself selling out Odi like that, but I had to wonder if it was also my responsibility to do so.

I'd seen the Ministry flex their muscles using the Maidens’ power before, and they'd wiped out, in a single blow, the Detroit Ministry's leadership. This time, they could do something even worse—like finish their first mission and turn the poor neighborhoods into a feeding ground for the vampires. Or why bother using the vampires this time? Just cast a spell to kill thousands with a single ritual.

I didn't like that train of thought one bit. To think that I could be used as a tool in mass murder.

Then I realized I had more than just two choices. There was a third. Instead of sacrificing Odi, I could sacrifice myself.

“Hey,” I shouted.

The witches all turned their attention toward me. Flora had an impatient look on her face. I guess she was tired of her pet talking back.

“I have an idea,” I said. “How about, when you're done with your ritual, I just kill myself? My soul wouldn't be very useful then, would it?”

Flora narrowed her eyes. The other witches muttered among themselves with a slight bit of panic. Which kind of made my day. In my current situation, it didn't take much.

Slowly, Flora came over to me. For some reason, I noticed again that she was naked, as if I hadn't already known that. It struck me how menacing she looked, even without her clothes. In fact, she probably looked even more menacing skyclad than she would dressed in leather and chains.

She still held the brand at her side, swinging it absently. She didn't come all the way over. Almost as if she was afraid I might actually try something despite her threats against Odi.

She studied me for a moment, trying to figure me out, trying to tell if I was bluffing. I decided to give her a little help.

“I am dead serious.”

“I think you just might be.” She raised the brand and studied the length of it as if she found it unbearably interesting. “Of course, there are people in this world you care about. People you wouldn't want me to torture for weeks on end. Someone like, say… Sylvester Petrie.”

I pulled so hard against my cuffs I felt them scrape off some skin. “Don't you dare.”

“It's sad, really. The young ones seem to admire your alchemist friend. A waste of affection if you ask me. But here we are, you putting me in the unenviable position of having to murder someone the girls see as, maybe not a friend, but someone they respect.”

“Nobody's forcing you to do anything.”

“Let's just settle this issue now,” she said. “I promise you, if you bring yourself to any harm, I will make sure that Sylvester suffers for a very, very long time.”

I clenched my teeth so hard I felt like I could break my jaw. All that calm and acceptance shit Urvasi had taught me went right out the fucking window. I was one hundred percent fueled by rage, and if not for Odi in another room strung up to be killed…

Wait. Maybe I could use that rage. Maybe I could turn myself into an explosion. Take them all out in this room in one fell swoop. Shut them up before they could give the word to kill Odi.

I could do it.

Odi had done something similar, purely by accident, when we had infiltrated that vampire nest a little while back. I was a powerful sorcerer. I could make it happen. Hell, the way I was feeling, I could probably blow up the whole fucking hospital.

And what would be the point of that?

I took a deep breath, trying real hard to bring myself back to Urvasi's teachings. I just didn't have it in me.

“Have we cleared this up?” Flora asked.

I didn't say anything. But I didn't do anything either.

Blowing up the witches wasn't worth blowing Odi up, too. At this point I didn't care about myself. Taking out the Maidens of Shadow would have been the best last move of my life. I could die knowing I had done right. And then, if there was an afterlife, I could tell mom all about it.

Flora's mouth formed a straight line. She began patting the brand in one hand like a billy club at a brawl. “I don't like the way you look.”

“The feeling's mutual, bitch.”

“Do not try anything,” she said. “Even if you could kill us all in here, Cora will have turned your little apprentice to dust long before you reach him.”

She was right. I was letting my anger twist my thoughts into all kinds of crazy shapes. They had me by the balls, and in a minute, the Maidens of Shadow were going to squeeze.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

After my exchange with Flora, the five witches in the room went about their business, ignoring me completely.

One of their preparations involved dragging in a black cauldron. Yes, you heard me, a black fucking cauldron. Hard to believe the most powerful witch coven in the Midwest could deal in such clichés.

While they made their preparations, I continued to dig through the messy toy box I called a brain to find some way to get out of this. Unfortunately, I wasn't finding shit. So I kept yanking on my cuffs, figuring I could either rip my hands through them, or pull the bed frame apart. It was an old, simple, rusty bed frame. And with each pull I did feel a little give.

Despite all that racket, the Maidens continued to ignore me completely. And why not? They were holding Odi's life over my head, so even if I did break free, they still had me by the balls. And if I couldn't kill all of them in the room without worrying about that elusive sixth bitch somewhere in this place ready to kill Odi, what could I do?

I stopped jerking at my cuffs.

I had to try something else.

And the only thing I could think of was Urvasi's training. It was the only new trick I knew, and I didn't know it very well. Obviously, there was power in it. It had burned the vampire blood inside myself clean out, all because I had accepted that it was in there. I'd accepted that it was a part of me.

And that I could…control it.

I closed my eyes.

The Maidens had started chanting in some unrecognizable but surely ancient language. I didn't have to look to know that my soul had started glowing brighter in its jar. For now, I had to ignore that. I had to ignore everything the witches were doing.

I needed to accept that they had my soul, as hard as it might be.

I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

You aren't gonna to be able to calm down. And this acceptance shit ain't gonna work, Sebastian old boy.

I tried to shove away the negative voice ringing in my head. But it was persistent.

Damn right I'm persistent, it said. To hell with Odi. Since when did you give a shit about vampires? Just burn these witches before they take away the most important thing of your life.

I gritted my teeth. I needed to get this voice out of my head. How could I calm myself? How could I focus? How could I accept? With this damn voice nagging me.

You can't, Sebastian. I'm here to stay. I am a part of you.

Of course the voice was a part of me. It was my voice after all.

I laughed softly. When I did, I noticed one of the voices of the chanting witches falter. I could picture Flora glancing over her shoulder, wondering what I thought was so funny. And I couldn't wait to show her.

That's right, the voice said. Show her. Show her what you've got.

I took another deep breath. I could feel the tiny smile on my face. Sure. I'll show them they can't get to me. I'll show them that even the negative voice in my head did not master me. And with another breath, I let that voice yammer.

You can't ignore me.

This is stupid.

You're going to fucking die.

Wake the fuck up.

On and on it went as I continued to take deep breaths. I didn't try to fight it. I didn't need to. I needed to accept it, I needed to accept everything inside me, because only then could I fully become master over myself.

This stupid, my critical voice said.

So what, I thought back. We can be stupid.

The voice continued to natter on, but I had become pretty good at not letting it derail my focus.

While I continued to center myself, I could smell the greasy sweat in the mattress underneath me, could feel the tiny little insects that crawled within it. I could feel the cold air in the dank room. I could taste some odd sweetness in my mouth, though had no idea where it came from.

That was okay.

Like when Urvasi first showed me how to connect to myself with acceptance, I began to feel my blood flow, I could hear my heartbeat, I could feel my soul.

First, I felt the part of my soul that still pulsed within me. And then I could feel the part of my soul that was flaring within the pentagram on the floor. I could feel the Maidens' psychic hands all over my soul. It was a dark, greasy feeling that made me shudder.

I accepted their touch, and with that acceptance, I ignored it.

More than ever, I could feel the tether between both parts of my soul. I could feel that tether stretching tight like a flexed muscle. And just like a muscle in my own body, I continued to flex it. I tightened the line between my soul inside and my soul outside until the pull was unbearable. But this time, instead of letting my soul pull me to it, I pulled my soul toward me.

A few of the Maidens stumbled over their words. They could sense something was going on. I wasn't sure if they knew what, but they would find out soon enough.

As I continued to try drawing the missing piece of my soul back to me, an agonizing pain spiked in my head. I let myself hurt. I owned my hurt. Just like I owned all the parts of me, all of my soul, not just half of it.

And then it happened—the Maidens' hold on my soul slipped.

I opened my eyes in time to see the crystal jar explode into a million pieces of glittering dust. I saw my soul wisp up like green smoke with lightning inside.

I called to my soul.

It whisked toward me, and then the green smoke poured into my chest. The sensation was near indescribable. It felt like I'd swallowed sunlight, and that it burned in my belly.

I also felt a glorious fullness. I felt the magic inside of me double, maybe triple. I had not realized how empty losing part of my soul had left me.

But I was no longer empty. I was full. I was whole.

Some of the Maidens gasped. I heard Flora shriek. She whirled around to face me, eyes holding a mad light.

“You.”

“Me.”

“I am going to kill your little apprentice. And then I will flay the skin from your body, piece by little piece.”

I tried not to let her threat invade my calm. Strangely, I found it easy. I almost felt sorry for Flora. All she'd worked for would end right here.

The cauldron was smoking, omitting bright orange light. And the brand was inside of it, leaning against the cauldron's lip, useless to them now. These witches had become dependent on using my soul to power their magic. And judging from the worried looks of the other Maidens, I had a feeling they didn't have a backup.

I smirked. “I don't think you'll be flaying anything anytime soon.”

She moved for the door.

I conjured a wind and slammed the door closed before she reached it. “Nope. You can stay right here.”

“You don't think my sister will kill your vampire pet?”

“I don't think she'll know she's supposed to.” I drew heat into my hands again, and it took me no time at all to melt through the cuffs. I launched up off the bed to my feet. “Unless you’ve got a walkie-talkie hidden somewhere…” I shrugged. “Doesn't look like you have any pockets.”

Her hesitation, and the fear in her eyes, told me I was exactly right about their source of power. She could have easily communicated with her coven mate if she had any magic at her disposal.

I smiled like a dumbstruck fool. Only there was nothing dumb about me right now. “You don't have any magic to tap, do you?”

Her lips peeled back from her teeth. She turned to the door again. But there was no way she was going to make it.

I held out my hand and instantly felt the warm comfort of my magical flame. I was a little surprised to see it wasn't the blue stuff, just a normal, great big, pleasing ball of orange fire. I had to admit, I had kind of missed the traditional flame.

Flora's eyes widened. She knew what was coming next.

I threw the fire straight at her, amazed that I didn't feel any anger anymore. I was just doing what needed to be done to protect Odi, to protect my city, and to protect myself, obviously.

The flame struck Flora on the side, the force of it flinging her off her feet and to the floor. She had no clothes to burn, so the fire immediately began chewing through her flesh. She arched her back and screamed.

“Murderer,” she howled. “You murderer.”

So much had changed between myself and the Maidens of Shadow since we'd first met. They had been allies at the beginning, however tenuously. I'd never intended to kill any of them. And when we had lost Wendy, it had hurt me, filled me with guilt because she had died helping me and my mom.

I had never wanted any of this.

“I'm sorry,” I whispered.

Then I threw a second fireball, a bigger one, and finished her off.

Flora's shrieking suddenly silenced, the quiet in the room felt oppressive. It was a standoff. Me and four shocked, naked witches. They stood there frozen, their gazes moving from Flora's crispy body to me, their eyes wide, one of them chewing on her lower lip, another one shivering as if her nakedness had suddenly made her cold. I held out my hand, called another ball of flame that broiled and crackled on my palm. The red-haired twins with all their freckles joined hands, but they didn't try to cast anything; they were holding hands because they had the look in their eyes of women about to meet their death.

“It doesn't have to be this way,” I said. “I don't want to kill any of you anymore.”

One of the twins lifted her chin, her expression hardened. “You expect us to believe that?”

“If I wanted you dead, I would have thrown a fireball for each of you by now.”

“What do you expect?” the same twin asked.

“Now that I have my soul back, we could call a truce.”

All four of them stared at me like I was nuts. They had not seen that coming. Frankly, neither had I.

There it was. The offer. The proverbial olive branch. It was up to them if they wanted to take it. Because I truly was tired of killing. It seemed I'd done an awful lot of it lately, and it had worn on me. I had just been too, too angry to notice.

The four witches moved slowly and formed up a straight line. Their bare feet stepped through the shattered crystal, some of them smearing bloody footprints on the floor, but hardly noticing.

“Well?” I asked. “Truce?”

The other twin spoke this time. “What makes you think we won't destroy you the first chance we get?”

“Because things have changed,” I said. “I'm not the Unturned. I have my whole soul. Access to all my power. And I've learned a couple new tricks. If you decide to come after me, I can guarantee I'll kill you all then.”

The four witches exchanged looks. They seemed uncertain.

“You only have two mothers left,” I said. I nodded at the older witch among the three of them. “Want to make it one?”

The three younger girls all flinched in their own way. The mother pressed her lips together and seemed to brace herself for impact.

“Truce?” I asked one last time.

The mother looked to the girls. I had basically put them in charge of the situation. Thankfully, unlike sorcerers, witches had no inherent power. Since I had cut them off (like they had wanted to do to me, come to think of it), it didn't matter that one of them was older and stronger in the dark arts. Right now, they stood together as impotent equals.

The twins nodded and said, in creepy unison, “Truce.”

Chapter Thirty

I stormed into the room and found the twins' mother kneeling beside Odi, who lay on a bed just like the one I had been cuffed to. The witch's eyes went wide. She gripped a wooden stake in her hand and raised it over Odi's heart. Odi just lay there, unconscious. Not sure what they did to him to knock him out, but it had probably hurt.

I held out my hand and conjured a gust of wind that knocked the stake out of her hand and bowled her over. Unlike the other witches, she was still wearing a robe, and she got tangled up in it as she rolled along the tiles.

“We've called a truce,” I said. “Do you want to sign on with that?”

She untangled from her robes and struggled to her feet. She brushed the dust off herself with hard, quick slaps. She glared at me, and if she had had access to my power in that moment, she probably would've stripped off my skin like what they'd done to Odi.

She held out a forked hand, and muttered what sounded like something in Latin. It didn't sound very nice either.

I honestly wasn't sure if she had her own source of magical energy stored up. But when nothing happened, she gasped. Then she slowly backed away.

Guess not.

I heard someone come up behind me through the door.

The twins' mother looked past me, pleading in her eyes. I stepped aside.

The twins stood side-by-side, holding hands, still naked and not at all seemingly bothered by it. “We're done,” they said. “Let's go.”

“What are you talking about?” The mother looked down at her hand, her fingers still forked. “Where's the power?”

I thumped my chest. “Right here, baby. Right where it belongs.”

Her whole body seemed to turn to taffy. She fell to her knees, and tears glistened in her eyes. “No,” she whispered.

“It's time for this to end,” said one of the twins.

“How? How did this happen?”

I said, “It's my soul, and I decide where it goes.”

“You made a bargain. You can't take it back.”

“This was no bargain,” I said. “This was a fucking scam, and it ends right here.”

The tears leaked from the corners of her eyes and streamed down her red, freckled face. She shook her head, and her lips parted, but she didn't say anything. It looked like she was all out of things to say.

“Get out of here,” I said. “Now.”

The twins went over to their mother and helped her to her feet, and they guided her toward the door. She shuffled along like a dazed old woman.

Once they were out the door, I hurried over to Odi. I crouched down beside his bed.

“Odi,” I said.

Thankfully, the flaps of flesh the witches had split open on his chest had knitted partly together, but looked like a puckered canyon down the length of his torso. He still had other scars from the holy water, but he'd healed faster than I thought he could. I wondered if that had something to do with his innate magic as much as it did his vampirism. Seriously, when this kid came into his own, he would be a force to be reckoned with.

I gave him a gentle shake.

He stirred, groaned, and then his eyes fluttered open.

They must have had him in some sort of magical sleep. And when I'd taken away their power source, it had worn off quickly.

“Dude, WTF?”

“Our little disagreement with the Maidens has been worked out,” I said.

He wrinkled his brow. “Really?”

I nodded.

“Did you kill them?”

“Only one more. We decided on a truce.”

He snorted. “Bullshit.”

“I shit you not, my padawan. Me and the Maidens of Shadow are done with our feud. And it's about damn time.”

Odi tried to sit up, faltered. I grabbed his arm and helped him the rest of the way. He blinked a few times, scanned the room around us, refocused his gaze on me. He squinted. “I'm sorry.”

“For what?”

“Letting them get me, letting them use me against you.”

I laughed. “They picked you up while you were in your coffin. I don't think you really had a choice.”

“I just feel like… Like a liability. I'm failing you. I still can't control my magic. I'm not a very good vampire either. And…”

His mouth slowly opened, while his eyes bulged as if I delivered the most amazing news in the world. And I guess, in a way, I had. Because Odi had always smelled the vampire on me. And I knew that he had just realized he didn't smell it anymore.

“Dude, what…the…fuck?”

I smiled. “I went home to tell you all about it. That's when I found your coffin missing. I was a little disappointed, because I wasn't sure how you'd react if I woke you up in the middle of the day. I was really looking forward to seeing that.”

“You mean you're not…”

“I am not, nor will I ever again be, promise to the gods, the Unturned.

Odi cracked a smile. “Dude, that's freaking awesome.”

“That is the understatement of a lifetime.”

We both laughed, forgetting that we were in an abandoned mental hospital, forgetting that he was all scarred up and had a flesh zipper down the front of his chest.

In that moment, we were both just happy to be breathing—even though Odi didn't really need to.

Chapter Thirty-One

On the way home, I picked up a six pack of Bell's Stout. I needed a nice, thick, chewy beer, and I thought I deserved it. At midnight, Odi and I sat in my living room, just chilling in the silence. Every sip of my stout relaxed me a little more. My mind was still racing though. It felt like it would race for another three days at least. If that were the case, I was gonna need a lot more beer.

Odi put on a fresh T-shirt, covering what remained of his scars. Before he'd put it on, I'd noticed that by the time we got home, the scars were nearly gone.

After we enjoyed the silence for a while, me sitting on the couch, Odi sitting in a nearby chair, both of us just staring into our own thoughts, I finally decided to ask him about the scars.

“You're healing pretty fast,” I said.

He shrugged. “I guess so.”

“Using magic to help?”

He scrunched up his face and thought about it for a moment. “I think I am.”

“You mean you don't know?”

“It's not anything I'm doing consciously, but now that you mentioned it, I can feel it. It's weird. But yeah, I can feel it.”

I sipped my stout straight out of the bottle and thought about that, rolled that around in my mind like I rolled the beer over my tongue. Healing on a subconscious level. The only time I could do that was when I was sleeping. Otherwise, I really needed to focus my energy to close even the smallest cuts. Healing was a pretty big deal. That's why there were certain people that focused almost entirely on the art.

“How much healing is the vampire in you?” I asked.

He shrugged one shoulder. “I can't tell. Is there something wrong?”

“Not wrong,” I said. “Just…different.”

“I always prided myself on being different.”

I laughed and took another swig. The beer tasted damn good. It had been a while since I'd had a stout. And Bell's was one of the best craft beer makers in the state of Michigan.

“So what about you?” Odi asked.

“What about me?”

“How does it feel not to have any vampire blood in you?”

“It feels…different,” I said and smiled.

“Look at us, a couple of different guys.” He pursed his lips and stared at the floor for a moment. “What about me?”

I raised an eyebrow. “You're going to have to be more specific.”

He looked me in the eyes. “You don't have special blood anymore. You're not the Unturned.” He hesitated to say anymore, and dropped his gaze again.

It dawned on me what he was talking about. “You're talking about food.”

He cringed. “You make it sound gross, dude.”

“Sorry. Would sustenance work better?” I winked, but he missed it.

“How am I going to…?”

“We'll figure something out. Trust me.”

Odi scratched the back of his neck, his face tight. “Okay.”

We sat in silence for a while again. Nothing awkward about it, just a couple of guys relaxing, coming down after being kidnapped and chained up by a coven of black witches, stealing souls back, stopping deadly rituals, curing myself of a vampire infection. You know, like any other Friday night.

As I drank my beer, I kept coming back to Odi's subconscious healing. It was a sign that he was a powerful sorcerer. Plain and simple. Which meant I'd have to step up his training, work with him hard to help him get control of that power. I sometimes forgot the level of strength he carried magically. Maybe, if I kept studying with Urvasi, I could start passing down some of her tricks to him. Hell, maybe I could convince her to mentor us both. With all that power inside of him, I worried that I might not be able to do him justice, that he was more sorcerer than I could handle.

“What are you thinking about?” Odi asked.

I shrugged and set my empty beer bottle down on the coffee table. “The future.”

“Okay, dude. I'll hit the fridge and get the last of your tasty blood, and we can drink a toast to the future.”

“Sounds—”

A thump at my door cut me off. Not a knock. Sounded like someone kicking it.

I gave Odi a cautious glance then stood. I'd had two stouts, and with as tired as I was, I had a decent buzz going. After all that shit with the witches, I was entitled to some wooziness.

Odi stood, too. He made a move for the door, but I held out my hand to stop him. I pressed a finger to my lips to signal him to stay quiet. I slowly crept towards the door. On my way, whoever was out there kicked the door again, three times in quick succession. Unfortunately, I didn't have a peephole. So I moved to the front window and parted the curtains, trying to get a view of my front porch. My visitor was out of sight from my angle.

Another kick. “Come on, Light.” The door muffled his voice. I didn't recognize it.

I crept toward the door while drawing on my magic. I held out my hand and ignited it with bright orange flame. My energy felt thin, though, and I worried I didn’t have the juice to put up a good fight. A lot depended on who the hell was at my door and what they wanted. But it seemed like there was only one way to find out, so I readied myself and yanked the door open.

Jonah Jackey stood on my porch, his face pinched as if something hurt.

And in his arms, he carried the limp body of Fiona Templeman.

Chapter Thirty-Two

I opened my mouth to ask him what the hell, but he just shoved past me into the house and took Fiona to the couch, where he laid her down.

She was awfully limp. Looked like dead weight. I felt a twist in my gut, and my breath caught for a minute.

Once Jackey had her down, he turned around to face me. “Close the fucking door.”

Taken off guard, I didn't know what to do besides what he told me to. I shut the door, and for some reason locked it. Just seemed, instinctively, the right thing to do.

Odi stood there looking as stunned as I felt. He stared down at Fiona's still body.

“What's going on?” I said, my voice soft and a little shaky.

Jackey shook his head and walked away from the couch without a word. His eyes were watery behind his horn-rimmed glasses, his skin ashen. He also carried an electric smell with him, which made me suspect he'd been in a magical fight very recently.

I crossed the room to the couch and looked down at Fiona. Her skin was washed of any color, her blond hair messy and snarled. She was too still. She wasn't breathing. I knew she was dead, but I still felt for her pulse. Her skin was cold. I tried to swallow the knot in my throat, but it stuck. I shook my head as if I could deny what was going on and make it all go away. I couldn't deal with this. I didn't know how to feel. I dragged a hand over my face, and my palm came away wet. I turned to Jackey.

“What happened?”

He pressed a fist to his mouth and shook his head as if he couldn't stand to say the words.

“Come on,” I growled. “Tell me.”

Jackey let his hand drop to his side, swallowed, and squared his shoulders. “We were staking out Orosco,” he said.

He scrunched up his face as if he'd been punched in the gut.

I had an idea of what came next, but I wanted him to say it, I wanted the details. “Then what?”

“We were tailing him through Pontiac. Fiona and I. Somehow they made us.”

“And?”

“They must've called for reinforcements,” he said. “We got ambushed. And Fiona…”

I waited.

Jackey closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. “One of them threw a spell at me. Fiona stepped in the way, and the spell struck her dead instantly.”

I ran a trembling hand through my hair. “How did you get out of there?”

“I didn't,” he said. “Not exactly.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

He pressed his lips together, and his eyebrows came together. “They let me live,” he said. “They wanted me to take Fiona with me to the other members of the resistance. As some kind of warning.”

I studied him, trying to see any sign of a lie. He seemed to be telling the truth, but the story sounded thin. I suspected there was more to it.

“That's it?” I asked. “They just let you go?”

He looked down, refusing to meet my gaze. “No. They made me beg for my life.”

I looked back at Fiona. A whole lot of memories threatened to drown me. The feel of her skin against mine, the smell of her hair, the curve of her waist as I held her against me. And then, the other memories. Like the moment she took her place at Logan Goulet's side. Her betrayal. And the hole she left in my life, and that I hadn't yet learned to fill. The hole was small though, compared to the one left behind by the loss of my mother. It had been easy to ignore while I'd let my obsession for revenge distract me.

I knelt down in front of the couch and stroked her hair away from her forehead. I traced her lips with my fingertips. Then I leaned forward and kissed her cold cheek.

“Why did you bring her here?”

“Because you needed to see it more than any of my people,” he growled. “Now will you join us?”

I looked over my shoulder at him. He had taken off his glasses and was absently cleaning them with his shirt, but his gaze seemed as sharp as ever.

“I don't think I'll be any good to you,” I said.

“After this, we need you even more. Fiona put a lot of herself into our cause. I think she was more dedicated than even me. When the others…” He slipped his glasses on, shook his head. “My people need to feel like there's a chance. You could give them that.”

“I know you think I'm some kind of symbol,” I said. “But things are different now.”

He furled his brow. “How so?”

I thought for a second, unsure how much I wanted to share. I had hated having the reputation as the Unturned, but I had to admit it had its advantages. Still, I didn't see any reason to deceive Jackey.

“I'm not unturned anymore,” I said. “The infection is gone. I'm cured.”

His lips parted slightly. “How?”

“Magic,” I said with a wry smile.

“I don't know what to say.” He let out a short, derisive laugh. “I suppose, congratulations.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” I said.

He laughed again, a little less derisively this time. “Maybe you're right. I'm pinning too much on you. But I want you to know it isn't just the Unturned business that makes me want you at my side. In fact, that's a small part. You're a Light, Sebastian. I'm not sure you understand how much weight that name carries in the supernatural community.”

I did, but when you're fighting vampires, stealing from a dragon, putting an end to evil conspiracies threatening your city, trading souls, battling witches, and losing your parents… I'd spent a lot of time focusing on survival in the moment. I hadn't had a chance to remember the past.

“My parents were good people,” I said. “Grandparents, too.”

“And every generation before that. Damn right.”

I turned back to Fiona. For a long time, I had wanted closure with her. I had thought that closure might involve doing something I would regret, but someone else had done it for me. But I never really would've hurt her. It had all been bluster.

After betraying me, she had tried to do the right thing, tried hard, in fact. And while I hadn't been able to look past the rift she had torn between us, others had—first the global ministry, next this resistance unit. And she had given her life to their cause.

Was it time for me to accept the pain she had brought? Time for me to let go and do what was right? To continue what she had sacrificed herself for?

I stood slowly and turned around.

Jackey looked tense and uncomfortable. But he looked me in the eye.

“I could still help,” I said.

His eyes widened. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, dude,” Odi said, his voice bright with surprise. “You sure?”

“Put me to work. I'll do what I can.”

Jackey narrowed his eyes and stroked his chin. Then a smile dawned across his face. “Didn't you say Orosco had personally tried to recruit you?”

I smiled myself, seeing where he was headed. “That's right. He thought the Unturned could help bring the vampires back into the fold.”

“That would definitely make them stronger.”

Odi looked back and forth between us. “Are you talking like going undercover?”

Excitement lit Jackey's eyes. “The Ministry offices in the RenCen are locked down too tight for anyone to get in. And after getting caught tailing him, we won't get another chance to catch him on the outside.”

Odi gaped at me. “You're just going to walk in there? By yourself?”

“It's the only way,” I said.

“It's insane.”

Jackey nodded. “It's a huge risk.”

I glanced at Fiona's still body. “There's no point in fighting for a cause if you're not willing to take risks.”

“All right then,” Jackey said. I could hear the excitement in his voice. “I'll contact my people and set things up.”

“What about me?” Odi asked.

“You don't have to be in on this,” I said.

“Pfft. I'm your padawan, remember? I go where you go.”

“We can find a place for him,” Jackey said. “We'll need an extraction team, and his shadow walking could come in handy there.”

An extraction team. If I went into the belly of the beast to assassinate Orosco, there would be no getting out. But I didn't say anything. I didn't want Odi to worry.

But I would have to make sure he was taken care of once I was gone.

I happened to know someone who was good at that kind of thing.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Immediately after sundown Odi and I met with Jackey and his crew in the parking lot of a Meijer grocery store. They had a white cargo van and two compact cars with them. In the back of the cargo van they had a chest with a whole lot of firepower—shotguns, assault rifles, handguns. All the good stuff.

We went over our plans. Mine didn't take much describing—turn myself in, get close to Orosco, and melt his face.

Jackey went through his elaborate extraction plan. I only half-listened because I didn't really think we would need the plan. I wasn't even sure how powerful Orosco was. For all I knew, he would melt my face before I melted his. Either way, my odds of getting out of there, successful or not, were pretty damn slim. Even if I took down Orosco, I would still be surrounded by his people. They weren't just gonna let me walk away. Not like the Wicked Witch of the West's soldiers who turned sides the moment Dorothy melted her with a bucket of water. But the idea was, if we took out Orosco, the lack of leadership would make taking out his disciples a lot easier.

I sure as hell hoped it worked. I'd hate to give my life to a lost cause.

Once we got our stuff straight, I said goodbye to Odi and took off for the cemetery.

I summoned Urvasi, and we had a quick conversation that I could tell made her feel uncomfortable. But it was necessary.

After that, I drove downtown straight to the Renaissance Center where the Ministry had its main office among the three floors they occupied in the famous central tower. I'd been to the Detroit Prefect's office a few times now. Although, each time it had been a different person in the office. Seemed like lately, the Ministry was going through prefects like they were tissues and the Ministry had one hell of a cold.

I knew they had wards set up throughout the building to detect anyone with magical abilities or even a small whiff of magic around them. The moment I stepped into the lobby, I had two people come up to me on either side. They were both men, wearing sharp black suits and black ties. If I hadn't known any better, I could have mistaken them for government agents. But I could feel the zing of magic on both of them. One had a hand with a ring on every finger, including his thumb. A mage. They liked their trinkets, it was where they derived all of their power. The other one didn't have any of the bling, so I figured the magic I was feeling was probably innate. It meant he could be a sorcerer like me. It could also mean that he wasn't really human. With this new leadership, who knew what kind of creatures the Ministry would recruit now?

The friendly gentlemen, who didn't say a word to me, just grabbed me by either arm and guided me toward the elevator.

I tried to give them my signature charming smile, but they might as well have been dragging a bag of laundry for all the attention they gave me.

We went straight to the Ministry's main office.

Looked like this could be easier than I thought.

Orosco's female assistant sat behind a large desk, wearing a big grin, and a large talisman around her neck, the pendant almost the size of a saucer. As my new friends and I came into the office, the assistant stood.

“Welcome Mr. Light,” she said. “Mr. Orosco will be so happy to see you.”

I grinned. It was totally fake, but she didn't seem to get that.

“And I can't wait to see him,” I said.

She gave a small nod to each of the men on either side of me. They let go and moved to stand on either side of the door leading into the prefect's office. The assistant skirted around her desk, went to the door, and opened it for me.

Inside, I saw Orosco standing in the center of his office on the ornate rug that had been woven by fairies, a very rare piece of decoration that I always found troubling when I saw it in the office. It must've cost a fortune, and I thought the Ministry's money could be better spent in other ways.

But I was no politician, and had no interest in those kinds of things.

Orosco held his hands out at either side of him. He wore a pair of khaki pants and untucked white button-up shirt. He had the shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows and the top two buttons of his shirt undone. It was business casual in the prefect's office tonight.

“Mr. Light,” he said in a deep voice that sounded a little dramatic to me. “At last, you have come to your senses.”

“I hope there's no hard feelings about what I did to your guys,” I said with a smirk.

Orosco laughed. “Not with me. Elton? Let's just keep the two of you apart for a while. And as for Paul…” He shrugged, eyes shining like someone about to deliver the punch line to a joke. “I doubt we'll hear any complaints from him.”

I made myself laugh. It was damn hard to do that while in the room with someone I intended to execute.

Orosco waved me inside. “Come. Come.”

I entered, and the assistant closed the door behind me.

Orosco clasped his hands behind his back and raised his eyebrows. “So the Unturned graces my office.”

“Not the first time I've been here,” I said.

“Of course not. You are, after all, a minor celebrity in the paranormal world.”

I tried to look flattered. I wasn't really sure how to arrange my face to make it look like that, though.

“So here I am,” I said. “Now what?”

“Let's have a chat.”

Orosco approached his desk, but instead of taking the seat behind it, he took one of the two chairs in front of it. He held his hand out to the other chair, encouraging me to sit.

I hesitated, a mistake, but the thought of sitting beside him made my insides cringe. I couldn't get the sight of Fiona's dead body on my couch out of my head. Which also led to thoughts of Mom. And the witches. And Markus Hope. And Toft. And Sly nearly dying. All the fucked-up shit I'd dealt with for the past several months.

This guy had been a key player in it all.

“Please. There's no need to be intimidated,” he said, clearly misinterpreting my reticence. “You will be a leader just like myself. The vampires will do your bidding, dedicated to the Unturned.”

“You seem awfully sure that they're going to follow me.”

“I have friends among some of the eldest vampires in the city. Obviously, not old enough to take charge. But they seem to think your taking on a leadership role as the Unturned will work. Some of them worship you, Sebastian. Many of them fear you. Some of them hate you. But there is no leader who does not have dissidents.”

The way this guy was talking made me queasy. Leadership role? He clearly had a God complex. His problem was, he thought I had one to.

It was bullshit, but it would work in my favor. Would help me to get his guard down. I was uncertain of the level of his power, so I didn't want him to see my attack coming.

I went ahead and sat down in the chair beside him.

This seemed to make Orosco very pleased. He smiled, showing teeth and all. “So what made you change your mind?”

I had expected this question. I only hoped my answer convinced him.

“I had a run-in with the Maidens of Shadow,” I said.

“I've heard about that. I hate to lose them as an asset, but I fully understand your need for revenge. I don't hold it against you.”

Well I'm sure glad he approved.

Dick.

“They had me at a disadvantage,” I said. “I didn't like that feeling. I decided I needed to be where the real power is, with allies who were strong, so strong that they could wrest control of an entity as large as the Detroit Ministry.”

Orosco laughed. “You flatter me.”

“I don't mean to flatter you. I'm just stating a fact. I see the future, and it belongs to you and your followers. So I am going to follow you, too.”

He sighed contentedly, as if he'd just finished off a warm bowl of soup and was pushing himself away from the dinner table. He smiled some more, stretching it so far I thought it might split open his face. I hoped not, because I wanted to do that myself.

“It would be quite the thing having the Unturned at my side.”

“I just hope I can actually help.”

Orosco steepled his fingers. His smile slackened. “The question is,” he said, “whether or not I can trust you.”

I shrugged, trying to look casual. “Compared to you, I'm a little peon on, right? Not something someone like you would have to worry about. Even if you can't trust me, I'm no threat to you.”

“No, I suppose not.” His smile broadened once more. “We should get down to it then.”

I nodded sagely—at least, I thought it was sagely. “What do you have in mind?”

“We'll start with the elder vampires. I can set up a meeting within the next couple of days.” He raised his eyebrows. “If that's all right with you?”

I inclined my head, this time going for stately. But instead of saying anything, I tried to think about my next move. I needed to get this guy's guard down.

“Is everything all right?” Orosco asked.

“I was just thinking,” I said, without thinking. “There was a rumor that the previous prefect, before the GMF replacement, had a refrigerator filled with craft beers hidden somewhere in this office.”

“You don't say?”

I put a hand over my heart. “I'm just telling you what I heard. I've always hoped that it was true, being a beer snob myself.”

He wrinkled his nose. “Hmm. I don't much care for beer.”

Yet another reason not to like the guy.

“So you haven't found anything like that in here?”

He lifted his shoulders.

I gave him a conspiratorial smile. “Can we look around for it?”

“I'm not sure now is the time for something so trivial.”

Beer? Trivial? What was wrong with this guy?

Obviously, he wasn't going to bite. I looked around the room for something else I might use to preoccupy him. A decoration to compliment him on, a picture of his family, maybe just the office's view of the International River and the lights of Canada on the other side. The Windsor skyline twinkled in the night.

He saw me looking out the window and took it from there, without any prompting from me.

“Majestic, isn't it?” He stood and rounded his desk, stood before the window, and clasped his hands behind his back. “It makes me glad you decided to come to me after dark.”

Something in his tone unnerved me, like he knew something I didn't. I didn't dwell on it though, because the bastard had just put his back to me, and I wasn't going to get a better chance than that.

I shot to my feet, held out my hand, and engulfed my fist in blazing orange fire. But before I could get any further, Orosco spun around, and held his hand out, palm facing me. He whispered a word under his breath.

An invisible force struck me full on, and I flew backward, slammed onto my back on the priceless fairy rug. The rusty taste of blood filled my mouth, and when I ran my tongue across my bottom teeth, I found one missing.

Son of a bitch.

I got to my feet. Tapped more energy to draw fire again, this time into both hands.

He looked at me with a small smile and sighed. “I was afraid of this. In fact, knowing what I do of your history, I should have expected it.”

I didn't argue with him, just threw my fire from both hands. It streaked across the office straight for him.

He raised his hands, muttered some more words, and held his ground.

My flames turned to harmless sparks and embers that quickly faded in the air.

“I thought you understood,” he said. “I might not look like much, but I've been a wizard for at least five times as long as you've been a sorcerer. Besides, you just walked into the center of the Ministry offices of Detroit. The very branch of the Ministry that I now rule. Did you really think you could come here, defeat me, and walk out alive?”

“Accomplished number one, about to accomplish number two. And number three?” I shrugged. “Two out of three ain't bad.”

He laughed. “We'll see.”

I dug deep and brought up the blue fire this time. I squeezed my fists as tightly as I could, felt the wavering heat around each of them, and bared my teeth.

He jabbered a line of Latin, swiped his hand through the air, and the front of my shirt ripped open, leaving a bloody slice across my chest as if he had cut me with a scythe.

I staggered backward. For an instant I didn't feel any pain, then it came as quick as his cut. I cried out and lost my concentration, which killed my fire spell. I didn't have a chance to collect myself before he struck again.

He clenched his fists at his side and whispered more words that I didn't understand, mostly because he was mumbling—I knew my fucking Latin. His gaze bore through me, and then I felt a terrible cold wrap around my heart as if a specter had reached in through my chest.

And then I felt my heart stop.

Chapter Thirty-Four

I felt cold all over, as if my blood were chilled. The pain in my chest shot down one arm. I could already feel myself dying. I pounded at my breastbone as if that might help start my heart again, but it didn't do any good. Orosco's spell had me gripped tight.

“I hate to be the one to end such a unique life,” Orosco said. “You really should have joined me.”

Now would have been a good time for a witty comeback, but when your heart stops beating, it's kind of hard to talk, let alone think of something clever. Instead, I dropped to my knees. I could feel my life draining out of me as every second passed. As if that weren't bad enough, the two goons that had escorted me into the office came in through the door carrying handguns.

This was it then. I'd go out with a stopped heart and a bullet in my brain.

Strangely, I was okay with that. The thing that bothered me was that I wasn't taking Orosco with me. I couldn't die until he was dead, too.

My first instinct was to tap the anger my hopeless situation had sparked. Give these bastards a taste of the blue fire. I held back. Right now I didn't need strength, I needed style. Urvasi style.

I closed my eyes. I sensed Orosco's guys step up behind me, but didn't let it distract me, even though at any second one of them could blow the back of my head off.

I reached down into the center of myself, found that place of acceptance, was surprised I found it so easily. I realized I had already started going to this place before I even walked into the building. Because I had accepted that I was going to die. That had been part of my plan. The only piece missing was Orosco's death. So what was I supposed accept now?

Failure?

What would happen if I died without taking out Orosco? Could Jackey's team follow up and catch them off guard while he was focused on killing me? Assuming Jackey and his extraction team were even on their way and hadn't gotten stopped by Ministry security first.

I couldn't count on it. And something told me that Urvasi's lessons in acceptance didn't mean giving up. And I was not going to give up.

I opened my eyes and slowly rose to my feet. My stopped heart felt like a cold stone in my chest.

I could accept that.

From behind me came the twin clicks of the goons pulling back the hammers on their guns.

Fine.

And while I accepted that, Orosco couldn't. “Stop, you idiots. You'll ruin the rug. That thing is worth more than ten of you.”

Somehow I managed to laugh, even without a beating heart. I'd always criticized the Ministry for having such an expensive, extravagant piece of decoration in the prefect's office. It was a pointless indulgence. The obscene amount of money they must have spent on it could have gone to something more useful. Who knew that one day it would provide just the moment of hesitation I needed?

I charged forward, straight at Orosco. He kept his arms at his sides, his hands clenched into fists, and his hard gaze on me. But that hardness weakened, his eyes going wide, as he saw me coming.

Running without the blood rushing through you like it's supposed to is a weird feeling. My ears rang. What felt like a cramped muscle in my chest turned into a burning agony. But I kept my head down and plowed into Orosco with my shoulder.

He let loose a small oof. His spell broke, and my heart throbbed double time as if to make up for lost beats.

I lifted him up off his feet and forced him backward toward the massive window. I drew on my power and called on the wind to blow a hole through the glass.

Shards of it flew in all directions, glittering like stars against the night sky.

“No,” Orosco shouted.

And then I shoved him through the open hole.

He screamed on his way down the dozen or so floors, the sound of it fading as he fell.

I wavered on the edge, almost going over myself, but I conjured another gust of wind that pushed me back and steadied me on my feet.

Over the howling, chilly wind that blew through the broken window, I heard a gasp behind me. I turned around. The pair of Orosco's black suited strongmen gaped at me, their guns down and forgotten for the moment.

I used their instant of disbelief to my advantage and conjured twin flames in either hand and hurled one ball of fire for each of them.

Both struck them at center mass and sent them flailing backward, guns falling from their grasps, their black suits and ties burning to tatters.

They hit the floor screaming and rolling, occasionally bumping into each other in their mad effort to put out the flames.

For good measure, I cast another duo of fireballs and burned the flesh off their bodies.

Their screams quickly died.

I didn't fool myself into thinking this was over, though. The Ministry occupied three floors of the RenCen, and had a full security detail. I imagined Orosco's assistant had probably already called them.

I stepped out of the office and found the assistant still sitting behind her desk, no phone to her ear, just a shocked expression.

I approached her, and she cringed back as if I meant to strike her.

“Did you call for backup?” I asked.

She slowly shook her head.

I raised an eyebrow. “Why not?”

“He's not my prefect. He never was. But if I wanted to live, I had to pretend.”

“That must've been hard.”

She swallowed and glanced toward Orosco's open office door. “Has it gotten any easier?”

I smirked. “It's downright simple now. He's done.”

She visibly relaxed and pressed a hand against her chest. “Thank the gods.”

I was feeling cocky, and a little juiced up on adrenaline, so I couldn't help myself, and said, “No. Thank me.”

“Heh.” She rolled her eyes. “That's cute.”

I tipped an imaginary hat. “Have a good day.”

And then I walked out of there, no extraction team necessary.

That should have been the end of it, right? But when I exited the RenCen's central lobby, Orosco stood there waiting for me.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Blood was running down Orosco's face from a slice in his scalp. His right arm was bent funny and dangled loosely at his side. One of his eyes was swollen shut, and half of his bottom lip was missing. He looked like hell.

But that motherfucker was still alive.

He curled his lip as he shambled toward me.

The sound of city traffic rushed in the air. I glanced around at the shadows, but couldn't see any sign of Jackey or his people. It was just me and Orosco.

His sudden appearance took me by surprise, so he got in the first move.

He raised his good arm above his head, fingers in a claw as if he were holding something in his hand. “Circulus ignis,” he shouted.

Next thing I knew, flame swirled around me, forming a circular wall that started closing in. I felt my skin blister from the heat, and the moisture in my eyes and mouth evaporated. Before I knew it, I was engulfed in fire.

My first instinct was to thrash about, and now I knew what it must have felt like to be a victim of my own flame. I panicked and dropped to the ground, started rolling. My clothes were burning away, patches of my skin peeling and turning to black flakes that floated away on the breeze. The pain was unspeakable.

But there was a part of me, that centered part of me that I had found when I was up in the office, still there, still aware enough to remind me that, Hey, I can control fire. I tapped my magic, this time not needing to conjure fire because I had it available.

Besides, I wasn't trying to make fire, I was trying to kill it.

My magic quickly extinguished the flames, but the damage had been done. Whole sections of my clothes had been burned away, and underneath, my skin was blistered and blackened. Shock kept me from feeling most of the pain, but it didn't dull it all. Waves of agony pulsed through me. Every breath seemed to stretch my skin and make it worse.

I lay on my side, curled up in a fetal position, facing Orosco so that I could see him approach.

He walked with a limp and clutched his side as he came over. I hoped his fall had caused some internal bleeding. I don't know what kind of magic he’d used to survive the plummet from so high—that must've taken some serious wizardry. Wizards gathered their power mostly from arcane languages out of dusty old books. He must've had a lot to say on his way down.

His feet scratched against the cement as he hobbled within a foot of my face.

I twisted my neck to look up at him, which caused all sorts of new pain.

He wiped some blood out of his eye. With a piece of his lip ripped off, and all that blood on his face, his scowl looked absolutely demonic.

“You are brash, young, and stupid,” he said, his voice a wet gurgle. “You're an insult to your family name.”

My tongue pressed against the gap where my front tooth used to be. My whole mouth tasted like blood. “Say what you want about me,” I said. “But leave my family out of this.”

“I'll be honest, I only know the Lights by reputation. And from your parents' treachery against the Ministry.”

He held out his hand toward me, as if he meant to help me up. But then he spoke a couple of ancient words and closed his fist.

For the second time in one night, my heart stopped beating. After a few seconds that felt like an eternity, the edges of my vision turned gray and fuzzy. Wouldn't be long before the gray turned black and closed in completely.

This time there was no pushing him out of a window, there was no chance for a physical attack at all. In my burned-up condition, I couldn't fight back.

Of course, I still had magic, but all the pain and my cooling blood made it hard to concentrate. The icy pressure in my chest was too much to bear.

Then I saw a shadow move behind Orosco. First, I thought it was just more darkness closing in on me, thought that any moment the whole world would go black forever. But the shadow pulled away from the others and became Odi. Once he was clear of the shadows, he became a blur.

In the next instant, he plowed into Orosco hard enough to somersault him over me, breaking the spell on me.

Odi hissed, his eyes glowing red, and his fangs out. In the lights coming from the building, his pale gray face looked all the more washed out. It did not, however, make his expression any less wicked.

He leaped over me after Orosco.

Orosco whispered something, there was a zap, and an instant later Odi flew back the way he'd come, hit the ground, and rolled.

Orosco stepped over me as if I wasn't even there, his focus entirely on Odi. I decided that would be the last time he turned his back on me—not with any anger, or thoughts of vengeance, but with a calm certainty. It was just what had to happen next.

I reached down for my magical energy without any specific spell in mind. Not fire or wind. Not water or earth.

Just pure magic pouring forth from that calm center inside of me.

Orosco waved his hand.

But he didn't get a chance to say his magic words.

I reached out my own hand, and bright green light shot from my palm in a concentrated beam. The beam struck Orosco square in the back, between the shoulder blades, and ripped straight through him, leaving a hole I could see the night sky through.

His body went stiff, he teetered on his feet, then dropped to the ground and jerked once before going still.

I stared at his unmoving body with my mouth hanging open, my breath coming out in an amazed shudder.

The green light.

Just like Mom's magic.

Odi stood, looking as shocked as I felt.

“Dude.”

In the distance, I heard voices and approaching hurried footsteps. I thought I could pick out Jackey's voice among them. There was my extraction team.

Too late, I thought, certain my burns were too severe to recover from.

And with that, I closed my eyes and accepted the painless dark.

Chapter Thirty-Six

When I woke up, I wasn't all that surprised to find myself in the little girl's bedroom at Jonah Jackey's house, but I was surprised that I had woken up at all.

My skin itched, as if I had a thousand bugs crawling all over me. I went to scratch but I found my hands bound by ropes that were tied to the bed frame.

What the fuck?

I looked around. The door was closed. Sunlight came through the window, the shade up. The window itself was cracked open a few inches, and a cool, fresh breeze leaked in. The smell of fresh cut grass came with it.

I didn't feel any of the pains that I had before I'd lost consciousness. Another surprise. I tugged at my bindings, but they held fast. I thought it rather ironic that I'd now been tied to a bed twice without any of the fun that should have entailed.

I called out, “I'm awake.”

A minute later I heard footsteps. The door opened, and there stood Jackey. He wore a pair of shorts with a Led Zeppelin t-shirt. His feet were bare.

For a second I worried that I had slept clear through to summer, but the cool breeze blowing through the open window set my mind at ease. Still, at this point I had no idea how long I had been out.

Jackey came over to my bedside. There was a chair beside the bed that looked like it had come out of his dining room. When he sat, the chair creaked a little. He clasped his hands and rested them in his lap, then he studied me through his glasses.

“So?”

I swallowed, knowing my voice was going to come out as a croak. I could feel the gunk in my chest and the dryness in my mouth. I didn't have much saliva to work with.

“Did we win?”

He smiled. “We won.”

I cleared my throat and closed my eyes for a moment. “Thank the gods.”

“No, thank you.”

I laughed. “I said something similar to Orosco's assistant. Were you listening in somehow?”

“One of my people cast an auditory spell on you so we'd know when we needed to move in.”

“You didn't think to tell me?”

“We thought it better you didn't know so you wouldn't accidentally give it away.”

“Thanks for your confidence.”

“Sorry. You turned out to be a lot more capable than I even figured.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Did you think I was going to fail?”

“I was hoping for the best, and planning for the worst.”

I couldn't really fault him for that, so I let it go. I was just happy to be alive.

“So what now?” I asked.

“Between Orosco's death, and the efforts of those of us in the resistance, the new regime is crumbling. In the last week, we've nearly rooted out all of the major players. The smaller players we can't find will fall in line or scurry away. It's over.”

“The last week?”

“Yep. You've been out a long time, my friend.”

I remembered the feel of the burns, my nerves overwhelmed by the pain, and my certainty that I was on my way to the other side, wherever that led. I lifted my head so I could look down at my body. A single sheet covered me so I couldn't see the current condition of my skin. I could still feel that damn itching though. And when I tried to scratch, my wrists came up against those bindings again.

I looked at Jackey. “What's up with the ropes?”

“We had three healers working on you,” he said. “They did everything they could. The rest of the healing is up to you and your own body. But while you were unconscious, you tried to scratch at your wounds and you kept opening them back up. So we had to tie down your hands so you wouldn't undo all the work our healers had done.”

“Can you remove them now?”

“Are you going to scratch?”

Hell yeah, I was going to scratch. At least, that's how I felt. And I wasn't sure I'd have the willpower to hold back.

“Yeah, probably,” I said. “How long am I gonna itch like this?”

He shook his head. “I can talk to the healers, they might be able to give me an idea.”

I leaned my head back into the pillow and stared up at the ceiling. My mind raced through all the events of the last several days, and it just about fried my brain. I tried to take the memories one bit at a time and pick out my questions with care. “Any sign of the Maidens?”

“Not a thing. Whatever you did, they've gone off the map.”

Imagine that, a black witch coven sticking to their word. I must have really freaked them out. Go me.

All at once, I felt sleepy, my eyelids heavy. Cheating death was tough work.

Jackey must have seen it. He rested a hand on my shoulder. “We can talk more later. We have some important decisions to make.”

I wanted to ask him what kind of decisions, but I wanted to sleep even more.

I was out before he even got up.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

I didn't wake again until after dark. The only light in the room came through the open door. Odi sat in the chair beside the bed. He had a pinched, worried expression, and he jumped as if startled when I opened my eyes and looked at him.

“Dude, you're awake.”

“How are you feeling?” I asked.

“I'm fine. I'm more worried about you.”

I took stock of myself and noticed that the itching wasn't as bad. Maybe they could finally untie me.

“You really messed that guy up,” Odi said. “Blasted a hole clean through his chest.”

“Looks like I learned a new trick.”

“It kind of reminded me of…” He trailed off. Bowed his head.

“Yeah, like Mom.”

He smiled, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. “Dude, she would've totally been so proud of you.”

It felt a little funny having my apprentice watching over me instead of the other way around. I didn't care that he was a vampire, he was a damn good kid. And I had a feeling—no—I damn well knew that he would stay that way. A hundred years from now, he'd still be a damn good kid.

After a couple minutes, Jackey entered the room.

“Are you ready to discuss the future of the Ministry?”

That sounded a little too momentous for my tastes. What possible input did they expect from me? “You'll have to untie me first.”

“Of course.”

Once free, my first instinct was to rake my nails across my skin. I threw off the sheet. I was only in a pair of boxer shorts, and even with just the light coming through the door, I could see the scars all over my chest, my legs, my arms. I had a feeling that no matter how good Jackey's healers had been, I'd be stuck with some of the scars for the rest of my life.

The shock of the sight of them made me forget all about how itchy I was.

Jackey hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “There's clothes for you on the dresser. Go ahead and get dressed and meet us out in the living room.” Then he left.

I swung my legs off the bed and sat up on the edge of the mattress. My head spun. I'd gotten up too fast. I waited for the sensation to pass, the whole time feeling Odi's worried gaze on me.

“I'm okay, kid.”

“I know. I'm just wondering what comes next.”

I laughed. “Normal life?”

He chuffed, shaking his head. “Yeah, right.”

Once I felt like I could stand without tipping over, I got dressed, and Odi and I went out to the living room. The set-up was the same as my last visit to Jackey's house, only a couple of people were missing, including the smoking lady. I didn't need to ask where they were. I could sense the sorrow among the others, and knew they had fallen in battle.

There was room on the couch, and Jackey gestured for me and Odi to take a seat. There was a weird tension in the room. A feeling of anticipation I was getting from the others. I had no idea what that was about.

After we were seated, Jackey stayed on his feet and paced back and forth. He shook his hands at his sides as if working up the courage to do something dangerous, which worried me even more.

All at once, he stopped pacing and looked directly at me. “What are your plans?”

I lifted my shoulders. “I haven't really had time to think about it.”

“Well, now that the Maidens are gone, and the bad elements in the Ministry have been removed, what do you think you could do?”

This was really weird. Too weird. “I guess I can go back to demon hunting,” I said in a light tone. “As long as the Ministry starts issuing contracts again.”

Jackey stared intently at me. “Is that really what you want?”

“Look, I don't really know what I'm going to do. But I don't really think it's important right now. I just want to go home and sleep for another week.”

“There's a vacuum in the Ministry right now,” Jackey said. “If it stays like that much longer we could end up in the same situation we were before. We need to make sure that we have leaders in the Ministry who can guide it to a better future.”

“Okay,” I said. “What does this have to do with me?” I gestured toward the others around me. “You've got people. I assumed they would be the ones to take over.”

Jackey nodded. “True enough. But not everybody wants to be leader.”

“That's fine. Totally cool. You'll figure it out.”

“What about you?”

Oh, shit. Was he really going where I thought he was going? I held up my hands. “No, no. Politics aren't my thing.”

“We could really use you,” Jackey said. “Everybody looks up to you.”

“I appreciate that. I really do. But I don't know what I can do. You're crazy if you think I want to be an arbiter or something. And I am no scholar like my parents.”

“I actually had something else in mind,” he said.

Tension knotted between my shoulder blades and up the back of my neck. I didn't know where he was headed, but my body seemed to have some idea.

Jackey removed his glasses, folded them, then used them to point at me. “You are a leader. Whether you want to believe it or not. And like we talked about, the Light name goes a long way. Especially considering your parents gave their lives in this fight, before any of us even knew there was a fight.”

I hadn't thought of it that way. Despite all that had gone down in the last six months or so, the conspiracy had existed for longer than three years. I had to admit feeling a little pride about my role in finishing what my parents had started.

But it was finished. Which meant my involvement was finished. I threw up my hands. “I don't know what more I can do, Jonah. You guys seem to have this all under control.”

“We have to rebuild Detroit's Ministry,” he said. “We must have new leadership.”

“I feel like you're beating around a bush.”

“Then I'll be straight with you.” He unfolded his glasses and put them back on. “We want you to be the new prefect.”

My jaw dropped almost to my lap. Was this guy serious? Was he out of his fucking mind? Prefect? Me?

“No way. You've got me all wrong.”

The others all stared at me, making me feel penned in. Didn't they realize? I was no leader. I was just a demon hunter who got caught up in a bunch of bullshit. Nothing more.

Next to me, Odi turned in his seat. “He's right. You'd be good at it.”

I give him an incredulous look. “Did you stand out in the sun for too long?”

“Just sayin', dude.”

Was this for real? I felt like I was in some strange dream. Any second now, my clothes would disappear and everyone in the room would point and laugh at me. At least I'd wake up, though. So why wasn't I waking up?

“I'm sorry,” I said. “I just can't.”

Jackey closed his eyes for a couple seconds. His shoulders drooped, and his arms hung loose on his skinny frame. “I understand. But will you at least think about it?”

I opened my mouth to say no. Instead, I said, “All right. I'll think about it.”

I don't know why I bothered stringing him on, though. There was no flipping way I was going to be Detroit's prefect.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

After closing time, Sly and I sat in his back room. He still had the old recliner that Mom used to sit in when receiving her treatments to try to recover her memory after she woke up from her fugue. It felt weird sitting in it. Another object with another memory, like so many things in my life. There were few places I could go where I wouldn't think about her.

It hurt, but I could accept it.

Sly sat on a tall stool behind his workbench, leaning on his elbows. His lips were screwed up to one side, his gaze distant. He was processing everything I had just told him. I didn't blame him that he was taking so long. Hell, I was still processing it all.

I let him take his time, and he finally came around. He sat up straight, brow furled, shook his head. One corner of his mouth curled up.

“Brother, that is some fucked-up shit.”

I leaned back in the recliner and laughed hard. It felt good to laugh up from the belly. I could do that now, even with one of the most momentous decisions of my life hanging over me. It was a hell of a lot better than struggling to stay alive.

“Fucked-up, indeed.”

“So what are you going to do?”

I looked around the room, at all his neatly organized shelves, then back to him. I shrugged. “I don't know. That's why I came to see you.”

He unfolded his arms and sat straight. He stroked his chin, running his fingers down the line of his freshly cut goatee. “Not sure how much help I could be,” he said.

“That's what I said to Jackey. Why the hell does he think I would make a good prefect?”

“That's not what I meant,” he said. “He's right about the Light name. I don't think you realize how strong your pedigree is.”

“Sure, my parents were awesome scholars. But they weren't politicians. My grandfather was a demon hunter for the gods' sake.”

“You need to study your family tree better,” Sly said. “About four generations ago, Elisa Light was the prefect of Milwaukee. Two generations before that, Graham Light served as an arbiter with the Global Ministry Faction. And your great-great-grandfather? He presided as Detroit's prefect.”

I gaped at him with my mouth hanging open. “How come I never heard any of this?”

He smiled, and it looked a little devious. “Your parents worried you might take advantage of your family's history. You were pretty difficult as a kid, if you don't remember.”

Oh, I remembered. And ever since Dad was killed, and Mom was stunned into a three-year silence, I thought about those days a lot. I thought about how I'd never be able to apologize for being such a punk as a teenager.

“So they kept all that from me, all this time.”

“I guess they figured you would look into it when you were ready. But you were always so busy trying to make your own way, I don't think you ever got the chance.”

“Thanks for making me feel even more guilty.”

“I didn't mean to do that, brother. I just want you to understand why these people seem so anxious to make you their leader. I think you're ready to recognize the full power of your family name. And I think you're ready to live up to that name.”

“Are you saying what I think you're saying?”

He brushed at the surface of his work table, but it looked perfectly clean to me. “I told you, brother, I wouldn't be much help with your decision. Not because I don't want to help you. But because you need to make this decision on your own. I've told you what I know, and how I feel. But I'm not pushing you either way.”

Suddenly sitting seemed unbearable. I popped up to my feet, paced a couple times, then stopped short.

I slowly turned toward Sly.

“Aren't I awfully young to be a prefect?”

“You would be the youngest in history. But that clearly doesn't matter. At least not to the people who want you to take the position.”

I covered my face with my hands and grunted. “I keep waiting for the punch line. This has to be some kind of a joke.”

“If it is, I'm not in on it.”

I looked at the recliner. I could see mom sitting in it. I could see her smile. The long gray braid in her hair. I could hear her voice. Could smell her famous lasagna. Could taste its peppery mix of sausage and ground beef. I remembered myself as a teenager, and the disappointed look in my mother's eyes when she had to ground me for a week because I'd set a bully's pants on fire at school.

Each memory tumbled into the next, creating a domino effect that carried me all the way back to my first memory. I was probably about three. Mom had folded up an origami crane. And then she'd used magic to make it fly.

That was the exact moment I knew that my family was something special. That I was something special.

We were sorcerers. We were the Lights.

I turned my gaze back to Sly.

I couldn't believe what I was about to say.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

My city needed me.

In the end, that's what I decided. I could do a lot more from the top of the Ministry than I could on the streets picking off one demon after another. Besides, there was a lot to reconstruct. With the volatile relationship between the vampires and the Ministry—made even worse now that the conspirators had been purged—and the uncertainty of those members within the Ministry caught in the crossfire during the forced takeover, Detroit's paranormal world sat on the edge of chaos.

It wasn't that I felt I was the only one who could fill the position. There were plenty of people, including Jonah Jackey, who could've filled the role and probably done a lot better job. But for whatever reason, there were a lot of people who wanted a Light to lead them.

If it really made that much of a difference to them, I had to accept that this was the best place for me. Well, not for me.

For them.

But becoming Prefect meant leaving a whole lot behind. Not just my house—since the prefect was expected to live in the RenCen penthouse specifically set aside for the city's Ministry leader. But being the prefect was a big job, which wouldn't leave me a whole lot of time for other things.

Especially one thing in particular.

Just after dark, Odi and I stood by my mother's grave. The drive over had been completely silent. This was the end of something that seemed hardly begun, but no less special, and no less difficult to let go.

Urvasi quickly showed up when I called her. I'd visited earlier, so she knew why we were there. A moment later we were standing in her trans-dimensional living room. She had changed it again. I wondered if she did that just because she was bored. Being trapped by yourself in a prison between worlds must've gotten especially mundane after a hundred years. But as far as I knew, she deserved it. She’d never said otherwise. In fact, she’d never said anything about her apparent crimes at all. Not that I gave a damn. She’d more than proven herself an ally.

She had a brown leather couch in the middle, a couple of matching chairs facing opposite the couch, and more paintings of Kali, but different ones this time, with the many-armed goddess in various new positions and locations.

Urvasi took a seat in one of the chairs. Odi and I took the couch.

“You boys look positively miserable,” she said.

I shrugged. “This isn't exactly where I thought we'd be. My whole world is turned upside down. But it is what it is.”

Urvasi smiled. “Is that acceptance?”

“Yes.”

Beside me, Odi sighed. “This just sucks.”

Urvasi folded her hands in her lap and nodded sagely. “Change is hard. But change is life.”

“I guess.”

I clapped Odi on the shoulder. “Why don't we do introductions?”

He shrugged and continued to sulk.

“Urvasi,” I said. “This is my apprentice, Odi.”

Odi threw up a hand, disgusted. “She already knows that, dude. And I know she's some super sorceress who you're going to pawn me off to.”

My chest felt hollow. I didn't want to do this anymore than he did, but we didn't have a choice.

“This is for the best, Odi,” I said.

He stared down at his lap and said nothing.

“You know we have to do this.”

“Yeah, but I don't have to like it.”

I laughed softly. “Neither do I.”

Urvasi leaned forward. “I will take good care of you.”

“Besides,” I said. “She's still my mentor, too. We'll still run into each other.”

He didn't look the least bit comforted. “What about…”

I didn't need to ask him to finish his sentence. I knew it was on his mind, because it'd been on my mind, too. And we hadn't taken the time to discuss it, probably because it was a very uncomfortable thing to face.

Urvasi seem to know what he was talking about, too. “There is no shame in what you are. No matter the traditions, myths, or bigotry you may face. Vampires are part of the natural order, just like everything else.”

“So I'm supposed to stalk mortals in the shadows and feed on them? That's the natural order?”

“I can tell you're no predator. But Sebastian's blood can no longer sustain you like it once did. You will have to learn to be what you are.”

I had to admit, I wasn't really sure what she was getting at either. Was she really encouraging Odi to go out into the world and feed on innocents?

“What exactly are you saying?” I asked.

“There are vampires who do not feed on the unwilling,” Urvasi said. “This is something Odi will have to work out on his own.”

I didn't like the sound of that. From the tension I felt in Odi beside me, I gathered he didn't either. At the same time, I trusted Urvasi. If I hadn't, I wouldn't have brought Odi to her. I patted the kid on his shoulder again. “She knows what she's doing. Trust her.”

“I trust you.”

That had to be good enough for now.

I stood and gave Urvasi a hard look. “He means a lot to me. Please do right by him.”

She inclined her head. “I swear that I will.”

And that would have to be good enough, too. “Then I'll leave you to it.”

Odi stood and turned to me. His eyes were glassy, and his nest of red hair looked more mussed than usual. “Dude, can I…” He ran a hand through his hair and wouldn't meet my eyes. “It's stupid. And I know I'm going to see you again. It's not like I'm moving away to boarding school or some shit. But still…”

“Odi, you can tell me anything.”

“I don't want to tell you anything, man. I want to… Fuck it.” He wrapped his arms around me and squeezed tight. “Thank you. You took me in when you didn't have to. You taught me. Became my friend.”

I hugged him back. “Toft kinda made me,” I said lightly. “At first anyway. I'm glad he did.”

I said my goodbyes, and Urvasi transported me out.

I stood before my mother's grave, a lump in my throat. I knelt in the grass and traced my fingers over the engraving of her name in her headstone. “Am I doing the right thing, Mom?”

For a second, I swear I felt a tingle run up from the stone, through my fingers, up my arm, and then straight into my heart. Magic. Her magic.

Maybe there was somewhere on the other side. I decided I'd let myself believe it.

Someday, I would see her and Dad again.

~~~~

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While this is the final installment of the Unturned series, keep an eye out for Orphan Blood, featuring everyone’s favorite vampire sorcerer, Odi Crossman.

Books by Rob Cornell

The Lockman Chronicles

Darker Things (The Lockman Chronicles #1)

Dark Legion (The Lockman Chronicles #2)

Darkest Hour (The Lockman Chronicles #3)

Darkness Returns (The Lockman Chronicles #4)

Darkening Dawn (The Lockman Chronicles #5)

Unturned

Branded (Unturned #1)

Crossed (Unturned #2)

Deceived (Unturned #3)

Enraged (Unturned #4)

Consumed (Unturned #5)

Visit Rob Cornell’s website at robcornellbooks.com

About the Author

Rob Cornell is the author of The Lockman Chronicles, a five-book urban fantasy series featuring ex-government agent and monster hunter, Craig Lockman. He is also the author of Branded, the first book in a new series about Detroit sorcerer, Sebastian Light. Raised on a steady diet of Star Wars, He-Man, G.I. Joe, and Transformers, Rob has always spent much of his time wandering the halls of his imagination, conjuring stories. Nowadays, he writes them down like a responsible adult. He lives in rural Southeast Michigan with his family.

Published by Paradox Publications

Copyright © 2017 by Rob Cornell

All rights reserved.

Cover Design by Beth Flumignan

Consumed is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.