A Lost Light (The Bestiary #4)

1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Andy

I got up to re-shelve the book I had been skimming, and to stretch my back and neck. I had spent far too long hunched over the dusty old book looking for insight and answers. Elijah and Bis worked nearby, the incorporeal ghost and the talking rodent a surprisingly efficient partnership. Bis had been learning to write with a small pencil nub, and he took notes and flipped pages with his dexterous little hands, while Elijah deciphered text and put it all together to guide their research.

Elijah was an angel, but when he was alive, he wasn’t particularly high ranking among his choir. He had bought into their bullshit most of his life. He had barely begun to question certain things about his people before he was killed and enslaved by evil Lovells. So even though we had an angel on our side… there was still a lot of research to be done. If we were going to storm the Angelic realm and obtain their magical relic, then we needed to know all the ins and outs of their pompous society—and any loopholes in their fictional rhetoric that might save our lives.

I had somehow managed to talk them into loaning me the nullifier on behalf of the SA before. But I was pretty certain I wouldn't be that lucky again. And stealing from angels was bound to be… problematic, to say the least.

Ridiculous blowhards though they might be, they were powerful—both magically and physically. And they would have the advantage of being in their own realm, while we'd be working with a disadvantage when it came to drawing on our magic. Although… this pocket world was attached to the angelic realm, so I had to wonder if maybe we were slowly becoming more attuned to angelic magic. I supposed we'd find out, one way or another.

“Momma? Here's the notes.”

I looked down to find Bis standing on his hind legs on the desk, holding out a piece of notebook paper that was filled with tiny, cramped writing. Hearing his little voice was still a wonder to me. And I was still adjusting to him calling me his mother . The weirdo. But I had always known Bis was more than just a pet. He had always seemed more intelligent than any rodent should be, and we had long communicated, in our lopsided way, as if he was a person. Because he absolutely was.

I took the paper, then scooped him up to nuzzle my nose against his furry cheek. “You're amazing,” I mumbled into his fur.

He squirmed and let out a weird noise that passed for rodent laughter as his little paws pushed at my face. “ Momma. You're rumpling my fur!”

I puffed air into the fur on his side, careful to avoid the hedgehog spikes, then finally relented and placed him on my shoulder. Elijah drifted over, a soft ghostly chuckle escaping him. “You two are adorable.” He held out his see-through hand as if he was going to pat Bis on the head. “And you've been very helpful, Bis. Thank you.”

Bis shivered when the ghost's fingers grazed over his head, and Elijah withdrew before his hand could pass through our little friend. The others had told me that they didn't find Elijah's touch pleasant, the way I did. To them it was just cold and a bit creepy.

Apparently, I just responded differently to dead and creepy. That seemed on-brand for me.

“I'm happy to help you, Elijah,” Bis assured the ghost. “I know what it's like to not be able to do all the things that other people can do.” Like talk. Or run fast enough to keep up with our long-legged strides. Poor Bis. Human intelligence, caught in a diminutive form that most would have overlooked and kept caged.

And poor Elijah, too.

The ghost who drifted at my side looked more person-like than he used to, thanks to the extra bit of necromancer mojo Dyre had put into his anchoring charm, when we destroyed the bestiary and made Elijah a new home. And he could occasionally muster up enough energy to go poltergeist and rattle solid objects. But he was still a ghost. He couldn't touch. Couldn't feel. Couldn’t turn the pages of the books he wanted to read, or touch the face of the person he loved.

It had to be so… lonely didn't seem to really encapsulate it all. Empty? Cold?

Ambrose popped in briefly to tell me that lunch was ready and the others were gathering downstairs to eat, before pressing a kiss to my cheek and disappearing again. I scooped up the book I was currently reading and headed out of the library and down the hall toward the kitchen.

“There has to be a way,” I muttered, lost in thought as I crossed the threshold into the big, warm kitchen with my rodent son on my shoulder and an angelic ghost trailing behind me.

“A way to do what?” Niamh asked with an arched brow. “Or were you just talking to yourself again, like always?”

I stuck my tongue out at her. “I don't talk to myself.”

Zhong paused on his way to the table to ruffle my hair and give me a fond look. “Only a little bit, master. But it's cute.”

I rolled my eyes as he set a basket of bread in the center of the big antique dining table. “I was just thinking out loud,” I muttered.

I slid into a chair next to Hasumi, and the water weaver turned to regard me with their mesmerizing turquoise gaze. “It was more than just a passing fancy,” they said evenly. “There is sadness and determination suffusing your aura. Tell us what troubles you, Oleander.”

I shrugged, well used to being called out for my feelings by now. “I was just thinking that there has to be a way to get Elijah a body.”

The noises and bits of chatter from around the room died out as I got everyone's undivided attention. I took a roll out of the basket and plopped it on my plate. “What? He's one of us. He's the entire reason you are all free. If it wasn't for Elijah guiding me to that box of old junk, then popping out and demanding that I right my family's wrongs, you would all still be trapped in that damned bestiary. And yet he can't even read a freaking book without someone to turn the pages.”

I set the book I had carried with me down on the table with a little more force than I intended, and the thump sounded loud in the silence that had fallen around me.

“Andy,” Elijah said, his hollow voice full of emotion, even though it sounded so inhuman. “I'm touched. But as I told you when you created this new anchor charm for me,” he said, reaching out a ghostly finger to indicate the charm that hung at my throat, “my body was destroyed. It is long since gone. Even if you were able to create some miracle and restore life to one who had passed on… I have no vessel to return to.”

“It still sucks,” I groused, adding a serving of hearty stew to my bowl, prompting everyone else to silently get on with eating. “It seems like if I can accidentally make a whole-assed pocket world in the middle of nothing, I could find a way to at least make you solid , or something.”

His cool touch trailed over and through my shoulder—the one not occupied by Bis. “You've given me more of life than I ever dreamed could be possible again. Please don't feel sad on my behalf.”

So he said. But I knew that was bullshit. I could hear the yearning in his voice. I had felt the way he craved a physical body, in the moments when I shared my aura with him in our weird sort of half-possession. It just wasn't right that he was still trapped in his own personal hell, when the rest of the people around me had been freed.

Gradually, bits of conversation resumed as everyone dug into the meal Zhong had somehow managed to put together for us out of the odds and ends we had on hand. But it didn't last long.

“I could do it,” Dyre said, his deep voice once again halting all conversation and movement. His violet eyes were locked on mine, and he hadn't touched the food in front of him. “We could do it, the two of us. I'm almost certain.”

I stared at the necromancer. “Why the held didn't you say so before?” I demanded.

He arched one blood red brow, and the expression on his pale face said he was surprised I had to ask. “Because I assumed everyone involved would have objections to harvesting a fresh body.” His other brow rose to match its mate. “A very fresh body.”

“You can't mean—” Elijah began, but I spoke at the same time.

“How fresh?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at the necromancer on the other side of the table.

“Ensnared at the moment of death, as the soul leaves the body,” he said, unflinching, his gaze boring into mine. “In order to rehouse your angel's spirit, in theory, we'd need to kill someone and be prepared to perform the transference spell the moment the soul left the body.”

Silence.

“Does it have to be a specific body?” I asked, leaning forward. Elijah could be alive again! “Would just anyone work?”

“Andy!” Elijah's distraught voice brought me back to my senses, and I had to work really hard to reel in the part of me that had fallen into Lovell mode—all curiosity and wonder at the possibility of performing some strange new magic that others could never dream of…without really weighing any of the moral implications.

“You're not going to kill someone just to steal their body,” Niamh said flatly. “You're not that cruel.”

I avoided meeting her eyes as I stared down at my bowl of stew and tried to tell myself she was right. Of course I'd never kill an innocent person. I wasn't like the rest of my evil family, willing to do anything, justify any means for my own ends.

Was I?

“It's a moot point,” Dyre said, dispelling some of the tension in the room as he finally started loading up his plate. “It would require a willing soul. And your ghost is clearly too high and mighty to settle for a previously used home.”

Elijah made a strange moaning sound like a ghost from some cheesy human movie back in the Planus realm. “I would never condone killing someone simply so I could live!” He touched my shoulder again, making me shiver as he brushed up against my aura. “I know too well how precious and fleeting mortal life is. I would never rob another of that gift.”

I nodded in understanding. Of course. It was a horrible idea. And even if I couldn't feel the disapproval from everyone in the room right now, Elijah's opinion was all that mattered. If he didn't want to entertain such morbid thoughts, then that was his choice.

Some part of me knew, though, deep down inside, that if he wasn't so opposed, I might actually do it. I would do anything for the people in this room. And that was… beyond unsettling. That was how a person started down the road to evil. Maybe I needed to run a few checks on myself and make sure I wasn't cursed or corrupted or something.

I lifted my spoon to my mouth and my eyes landed on Aahil across the table. The jinn's expression was bland enough, but a little flare of fire magic lit up his golden eyes. His gaze met mine, and he tilted his head slightly. He glanced subtly at the others, then, when he was certain no one was paying attention to him, he slid a glance from Dyre to me… and winked.

Okay, so maybe at least one person understood my depravity. I was fairly certain Aahil wouldn't object to a random killing if it made me happy. In fact, part of him would probably enjoy it.

What was my life coming too?

As we ate, conversation gradually returned to safer topics. We discussed everything Elijah could tell us about angelic society, and the bits of limited information he and Bis had dug up in the library as we tried to plan our excursion to the angelic realm.

Usually, getting there would be a problem. The angels strictly controlled portal access to their realm. They wanted humans to believe that they were celestial beings sent by some deity or other to bring peace and order. It wouldn't do to have people randomly popping into “heaven” and discovering that it was just a realm filled with its own species of people, just like any other. It would upset the balance, and disrupt the steady stream of power and strength that the angels drew from the faith of all the enthralled races out there.

But somehow in my slap-dash panicked spellcasting I had managed to create this pocket world by latching onto the borders of the angelic realm. We were like a boil on heaven's ass. And I was pretty sure that was going to make it fairly easy to break into the angelic realm when the time came.

Then we'd just have to quote rules and regulations at them until they handed over the nullifier. Again. Piece of cake. Absolutely sound plan. No room for it all to fail spectacularly.

After we cleaned up, everyone drifted off, while I lingered at the table randomly doodling on my notepad, trying to figure out how we should proceed and which of the million possible holes in our plan would be the one to kill us all.

I didn't realize Dyre was still there until he spoke, his deep voice echoing in a way that said it wasn't just Dyre who spoke. I glanced up at him in surprise as he loomed over me. He reached out and his long, cool fingers cupped my cheek.

“An angel would be best,” they said evenly, mismatched eyes of black and violet regarding me without judgement. “You may want to consider that when you are planning our visit to the angelic realm. A host of the same species would be less… uncomfortable for the ghost to adjust to, in theory.”

I forced myself to draw a breath. “It's a horrible idea,” I said with as much conviction as I could muster. “You heard the others. You saw how they reacted. No one here would ever kill someone just to make this possible. And Elijah…” I closed my hand over the charm that was nestled between my breasts. It was empty at the moment, cool and hollow. I didn't sense Elijah in the room. He must have fled elsewhere for the moment.

The two beings who made up my necromancer boyfriend stared down at me. I wasn't sure how much of this conversation was Sunny and how much was Dyre. And that in itself was a little unsettling. I shouldn't be relieved that I wasn't the only one who seriously considered murder a viable option.

“Mortals have strange ideas about life and death. They draw strange lines that don't actually exist. It's only wise to consider all angles of any situation. To be prepared.” He shrugged. “Beings die. Every day. Every moment . Life is not permanent. But… that doesn't mean you have to be the one who takes their life.”

I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. This was all too much. I wanted to help Elijah, yes. But I was afraid I was losing my moral compass entirely, if I was thinking more like a wraith than a witch.

“We aren't going to murder anyone, Sunny,” I said, hoping that was mostly the wraith talking. “So just calm down.”

Dyre blinked, and when he opened his eyes again, they were both violet, without a hint of wraith blackness. “I understand,” he said leaning down to press a kiss to my forehead. Then he pulled back enough to look me in the eyes again, cupping my cheeks in both hands. “But I also understand Sunny's perspective.” He brushed a kiss across my lips, a bare whisper of a touch, before staring into my eyes again. “If I was in your place, and if it was you trapped as a ghostly version of yourself yearning to live again, I would do everything in my power. I would kill to bring you back to my side. Gladly and without remorse.”

He kissed me again then, hard and fierce, as if he would drive his point home, when words couldn't manage to convey the depth of what he was saying. I kissed him back, gripping his upper arms and biting his bottom lip in retaliation when he finally pulled away. His eyes met mine once more, one black and one violet, both filled with raw determination and understanding.

“You're not a bad person. You're not a monster for thinking you might do anything to save the person you love,” they whispered. “Or, if you are a monster, then you are not alone. I've long ago stopped believing in heaven and hell, and I know things are never black and white. Do what you think is right. What Elijah wishes. But whatever you choose, know at least I will never judge you for it.”

The he straightened and strode out of the room, his back ramrod straight and his long red braid swinging with his confident stride. The unshakable confidence of an all-powerful immortal being living inside an all-powerful witch who could level a city, then raise its dead.

“Goddess,” I whispered to myself, as I rested my head in my hands and let out a heavy sigh. “I wish I had half that man's balls.”

Bis chirped a string of laughter, startling me, since I had completely overlooked the fact that he was still there, picking at a little plate of seeds and fruit Niamh had left out for him. I narrowed my eyes at him. “Glad you find my spiral into moral decay amusing .”

He just waved a paw at me and stuffed a raisin in his mouth, his cheeks bulging as he spoke. “You're afraid of turning into them. Your ancestors,” he said, swallowing his mouthful before giving me a serious skunk-rat-hedgehog look. “But you're not. You could never be like them, Andy. Even if you did do something awful like take a life, it wouldn't be for fun, or out of curiosity, or….” He waved his little paws, “because you were bored, or something.”

Sitting back, on his hind legs, he blinked up at me with his shiny black eyes. “You won't hurt anyone, if you can help it. I know you won't. But you might have to, someday. And it still won't make you like them. They never killed to protect. They never agonized over their decisions. They never did those awful things they did out of love, or because they thought they were making a sacrifice for the greater good. They simply wanted all the power they could gather, by any means necessary, so they could lord it over everyone else. I think you need to remember that.”

I huffed and ran a hand through my hair, not sure whether to laugh or cry. “Are you sure I'm the parent here? I think you disperse lectures and wisdom far more often than I do.”

He waved me away and picked up a peanut. “Kids can be wise too. Sometimes wiser than their parents.” And he followed that up with a distinctly old man sort of look. “Another thing to keep in mind when you're worrying about your family.”

I rolled my eyes. But he wasn't wrong.

I was wiser than my parents. Or at least, I was a hell of a lot more grounded in reality and morals. Dyre's confession had roused something inside me, something deep and feral. He was right. I would do any number of bad things in the name of love. But Bis was right, too. I wasn't selfish. If the time came when I had to hurt someone, it would be for better reasons than my ancestors.

I wasn't naive. I knew things were likely to get violent and dangerous with the SA and the cultists hounding us. There was a very high likelihood that people would die. Maybe by my hand. But Elijah was right. I wouldn't go out and rob someone of their life for my own selfish reasons.

I took a deep breath and tried to focus on more important matters. “What should I wear to really piss off the angels when we go knocking on their door?” I asked my furry son.

He shook his head. “Momma, you might not be a killer yourself. But I think you might have a death wish.”

I burst out laughing. He wasn't wrong.