Chapter 60
JUDE
My first thought was a petty, overwhelming certainty that I did not want to give him the satisfaction. My second thought was that Angel, shivering with exhaustion, and solid beside me, was already moving to put himself between me and the throne.
Which was exactly how we’d get permanently unmade.
“Okay,” I said to the air, stepping around Angel.
He couldn’t hear me, but I hoped he’d read the body language of a ghost who’d decided not to die twice today.
“We’re sitting. See? Sitting.” I drifted toward the obsidian velvet sofa, my form barely whispering against the fabric as I settled.
It felt like sitting on frozen smoke. “Let’s talk.
We’re great at talking. Well, I am. He’s more of a growler.
And you… I don’t know who you are, to be honest. If I believed in god with a capital G, I’d say that.
But I suspect if there was a god with a capital G, it’d be a woman.
More likely, the god most people follow is some vengeful demi-god like Loki, pissed that no one else sees how perfect he is.
Toxic masculinity in divine form.” I was rambling.
Angel hesitantly perched beside me, his gaze darting from the man to my flickering form. “Can you hear me?”
I nodded, then narrowed my eyes at our host. “He can’t hear me. You can, though. Right?”
The edge of the man’s lips curled into the hint of an amused smile. “Yes, little chaos. My domain spans all—living, dead, undead, and especially everything in-between.”
Fantastic. He was ticking the god complex box with gusto.
“My name,” he continued, the words settling into the air like stones into deep water, “is Xuan Que Zhenjun. You may think of me as an echo of what was, or a map of what is. I am the memory of order in a universe that has forgotten the shape of structure. I am the Eidolon of Between, the Marshal of the Weave, and Overseer of the Strands. You may call me Zhenjun.” An Eidolon, a phantom ideal.
A Marshal, a commander of cosmic law. An Overseer, a watchful, weary guardian.
He wasn’t the god of a place, but of the structure itself.
Angel and I shared a worried glance before turning back to Xuan Que Zhenjun.
“You,” he said, his dark eyes fixing on me, “are a frayed thread that has begun to snarl others around it. Destined to propagate chaos with each strand you touch.” His gaze shifted to Angel.
“And you are the anchor for that knot. The fixed point around which the snarl winds. Together, you are a dissonance that reverberates, creating waves in a pattern that demands order.”
Great. We weren’t just a problem; we were a growing problem. A stellar first impression on a cosmic scale.
“And yet,” he continued, sounding weary, “as much as the Marshal in me would like to blame a single noisy pair for the damage currently unspooling the weave, the true chaos is a chorus. It began long ago, in realms beyond your reach, and has grown to a volume that overwhelms my influence.”
The admission was more terrifying than any threat. The chaos had grown too vast for even the Marshal of the Weave to control. He was being drowned out by the noise he was sworn to structure.
“You mean the Veil tears?” I asked.
He gave a barely perceptible nod. “It began with a single, blasphemous note, the one you call Erlik, and the lesser minds he ensnared. Their work is a systemic poison. It creates more noise than any one being, even I, can isolate and silence in time. I am left to cauterize wounds, rather than cut out the infection.”
“Solidifying the tears?” Angel clarified; his voice tight. “Is that why the worlds are merging faster?”
Another slow, weary nod.
“Can’t you just stitch them closed?” I pressed. Surely, in all the realms, I wasn’t the only one who could mend a tear.
“I am one being. Eternal does not mean omnipresent.”
“We slowed the last wave,” Angel said, his tone grim. “By killing the cultists who were ripping them open. We lost whole units. Was Erlik involved even then?”
“A minor entity, yes. Now, he has grown powerful by hoarding the resonant energy of living souls.”
“His larder,” I said, the realization turning my blood to ice. “That’s what he wanted with me. Not just to wear me, but to consume the resonance. To eat the pattern I was made of.”
“Your talent makes you rare and coveted,” Zhenjun said, glowering at me. “Your recklessness breeds chaos. Unweaving yourself to protect your mate…”
“And I’d do it again,” I shot back, the words sharp. “The choice was him or me. There wasn’t a third option to consult the cosmic rulebook.”
Zhenjun sighed heavily. “Erlik and his ilk have long sought out and devoured any like you. He converts unique dissonance into raw power, fueling further incursions.”
“A cosmic tapeworm,” I breathed. Erlik has told me as much himself. I’d merely dared to hope that ended when I died.
“He still has Jude’s physical remains,” Angel’s voice was raw, edged with pain and a guilt I could feel through our silent bond. “Can he still use it to finish consuming him?”
“A valid and pressing concern,” Zhenjun acknowledged. “One that requires immediate intervention.”
I reached out instinctively, my spectral fingers passing through Angel’s clenched fist. A ripple of cold spread across his skin. He tightened his grip, as if trying to hold the sensation.
“I’m going to find Erlik,” Angel stated, leaving no room for doubt. “And I’m going to destroy him.”
Since meeting the shadow demon, I’d learned one thing; nothing about him was easy. He’d drained my magic like it was nothing, and I was a weaver, a rare thread in the tapestry. What would he do to a pack of shifters or a coven of vampires? Crush them without a second thought.
“What can we actually do?” I asked, turning to Zhenjun. He hadn’t brought us here for a philosophical chat. “I’m a ghost. He can’t even hear me. And a one-man battle isn’t a war; it’s a suicide mission.”
Zhenjun looked between us, his expression one of chilling clarity. “To stay together, you must become useful. You, as my Arbiter, to judge and mend the tears. He, your Bastion, to stand against the tide. You will go where the weave frays and impose order. You will end the source.”
“Small problem,” I said, holding up a translucent hand. “Ghost. Incorporeal. How does a phantom deliver justice?” And what was the point of any victory if it meant an eternity of being unable to hold Angel? Or to help Ivan, or even sit with Grandpa, and feel Peanut Butter purr in my lap?
Zhenjun settled back, a sharper intent igniting in his dark eyes. “Then let that be your first edict. Reclaim what was stolen. Retrieve your remains.”
“But he can’t hear me,” I repeated, frustration bleeding through. “Even if we knew where my body was, how am I supposed to help? I’m Casper the library-crashing ghost.”
Zhenjun considered this. Then, with a gesture so slight it was almost imagined, he conjured a slender case of polished wood between us. It opened without a sound.
Inside, on a bed of midnight velvet, lay three artifacts: a wide bracer of braided silver and shadow-forged metal; a choker of sleek, light-devouring gunmetal; and a simple ring of dark iron, unadorned save for a single onyx stone.
“Choose a vessel to serve as an anchor,” Zhenjun instructed. “To bridge the silence between realms and lend your strength to your Bastion.”
My gaze lingered. The bracer was armor; the choker, a chain. The ring was a vow. The future we’d been racing toward, captured in cold iron. I took it. The case dissolved.
Angel reached out, palm up, but I froze. “Wait. When he shifts, what will this do to him?” The fear was sudden and sharp. Would it sever a finger or something?
“It is part of the bond,” Zhenjun said, his voice calm. “It will become part of him.”
I hesitated only a heartbeat longer before placing the ring in Angel’s waiting palm. He slid it onto his left ring finger, an unspoken gesture that felt more binding than any ceremony. We stared, braced for a flash of light, a surge of power, a cosmic fanfare.
Nothing.
“Well,” I sighed, the tension dissolving. “That was anti-climactic.”
Angel snorted, a laugh caught between relief and disbelief. And in that shared, breathless second, we both realized the truth.
“You can hear me.”
“Yes,” he breathed.
A wave of dizzying relief washed through me.
I reached out, my hand hovering over his, and let my fingers settle into the shape of his grip.
My touch passed through him like cold mist. The connection was in our minds now, a bridge across the silence, but the chasm between flesh and spirit remained, vast and unchanged.
“My only concern,” Angel began, then hesitated. I knew that look; it was the prelude to a whole list of concerns. “I’m bound to the Fae. A pact from my youth and the last war. They’ll consider this a betrayal.”
Zhenjun waved a dismissive hand, as if brushing away a cobweb. “The debt will transfer from their ledger to mine. Your obligation to them ends. Your obligation to the structure begins.”
Angel was being offered freedom from the Fae at the cost of a new, more absolute chain.
The bitter irony wasn’t lost on me. I’d led him here.
I was the one already on the cosmic chopping block, with Erlik waiting to finish me off.
But forcing Angel into the same eternal servitude?
That felt like a different kind of death.
“And if we fail?” I asked. “If we don’t recover my body?”
Zhenjun’s expression was serene. “Then your dissonance remains unresolved. And both of you will be unmade.”
Unmade. Not just dead. Erased.
“Succeed,” he continued, “and your roles become permanent. You will solidify as my Arbiter and Bastion. An extension of the structure itself.”
Succeed and work for eternity, or fail and be unmade. Fantastic.
I locked eyes with Zhenjun, all my defiance sharpening into a point. I was done with choices made for me. I’d shredded my own soul once for love; that gave me a currency even a god had to respect if they wanted me to be anything but a constant snarl in their plan.
“One condition,” I stated. “If I fail, Angel walks. You keep the Fae debt, but he’s free.” I didn’t blink, a phantom negotiating with a force of nature. “You need what I can do. That’s the price.”
For a long moment, the only sound was Angel’s breathing, finally beginning to slow, though exhaustion still wove itself through his posture. Then, an unnerving smile touched Zhenjun’s lips.
“A counteroffer, little chaos. Should you fail, and he has somehow survived, I will return him to the mortal world. The Fae debt will remain in my custodianship, dormant. He will be a neutral asset. Alive, but of no further use to me, or to them outside of further negotiation. Do you accept these terms?”
It wasn’t freedom, but it was survival. It was the best I could hope to wring from a god.
“I accept,” I said, sounding more certain than I felt.
Angel hesitated, his gaze studying me, and I sensed his conflict and worry. His for me as mine was for him. I prayed my expression conveyed hope, but suspected all it gave him was more anxiety.
“And I accept,” Angel finally added.
Zhenjun gave a single, slow nod. “The terms are sealed. Get to work.” The elegant stone chamber simply dissolved around us like a dream upon waking. One second, cold moonlight and cosmic negotiation. The next, we arrived in the crowded warmth of Xavier’s borrowed apartment, thick with chaos.
We stood in the center of the living room. Angel, solid and real. Me, a flickering afterimage at his side.
Ivan, who’d been in a chair, eyes red and swollen from crying, launched himself into Angel’s arms. Angel wrapped Ivan in his arms, his focus flipping to me as if to be certain I was still there.
Victor, Wade, Bobby, and Ezra gaped. The murder twins were frozen by the kitchen.
Xavier’s hardened stare locked onto Angel.
No one else seemed to see me.
“You still see me?” I asked, needing the confirmation.
“Yeah,” Angel agreed. He held up his hand, displaying the ring. A weary smile touched his lips. “Turns out, getting ghost married was the easy part.”
He met my eyes, and I felt the warm, steady certainty of our bond. He looked over Ivan’s head at the stunned, silent room.
“Now,” he announced, his voice shifting from exhaustion to grim purpose. “We just have to go find my husband’s body before Erlik sucks the last of his resonance out of it.”
The hunt was on. And for the first time since I’d died, we were truly in it together.
Turn the page for a sneak peek of Grave Consequences, out later this year.