Chapter Twenty-Four #2
With determination building in my gut, I pulled all the threads of my magic toward me but it was like trying to fit the sky into a box.
Pain lanced down all my nerve endings as electricity flew through me like I was a conduit.
Fuck, it felt like it was frying my insides, but I kept pulling it into my core and claiming it as my own.
I was its master, and it would answer to me.
It built to a crescendo inside me, twisting and churning until all I could feel was power. My sight blurred, merging with the aether sight, and the layers of the worlds overlapped. Blood dripped from my nose and down my chin as I tried to contain everything within me.
“That power is mine!” I heard the King shout, but it was distant and almost lost on the wind.
“It will never be yours,” I replied, my voice steady and sure.
The power surged until finally, it imploded with the force of a dying star.
I dropped to the ground, my chest heaving, the agony lingering and the world a myriad of colours I’d never seen before. For the first time in my life, I could truly see everything that I was supposed to see. I heaved in a sob, finally feeling complete.
Byron raced over to me, checking every inch of me for any kind of injury.
I batted his hands away. “I’m fine. I can’t say the same for you, though. Jesus.”
He was covered in blood and dirt. His jacket was torn and there were several claw marks down his leg. “I’ll live.”
“How sweet,” the King spat as he stalked towards us. “Now there is only one way to get what I’m owed.”
I watched in horror as the King launched a blade towards me. It all happened in slow motion. Byron pushed me out of the way as the knife spun through the air. I hurled my magic towards the King, clasping onto his life force, but it was too late.
Byron dropped to a heap on the ground, struck down by the demon’s blade.
I sensed the King’s life force snap beneath my grasp, but it didn’t break completely. He fell to his knees, clutching his chest but I wasn’t looking at him. My entire focus was on the man who lay in the dirt, unmoving.
“Byron,” I screamed. The pain and horror rising in me the longer he didn’t move. I scrambled to my feet, running towards him, but something launched into my side, knocking me back down.
I fought back. Scraping and scratching, clawing at the ground to reach Byron. Maybe I could save him, maybe there was something I could do.
But I knew it was useless. I felt the tether between us fraying and the smell of the sea faded into nothing but a distant memory.
“Byron,” I sobbed. “Please.”
Nails scraped across my skull and twisted painfully in my hair. I was yanked up to my knees, but I didn’t look away from Byron. I couldn’t.
Please, Byron. Please. Just give me a sign… something… anything…
But the last thread of the tether finally frayed and then he was gone.
“How very touching,” the King snarled in my ear.
I wasn’t really listening. I had nothing left now. Nothing worth fighting for.
Tears poured silently down my cheeks, each one of them taking a piece of my heart with them as they fell into the dirt.
“I’ve waited a decade for this,” the King said as he wrapped his hand around my throat, and now I’m going to take it all.”
He squeezed my neck tightly, cutting off my airway. I didn’t even fight it, I just surrendered to the shadows as if they were claiming one of their own.
I came to with a jolt.
“Byron!” I yelled, hoping it had all been a horrid dream.
I wasn’t that lucky.
Bright sunlight shone down, and I had to shield my eyes from it to see where I was.
White sands stretched as far as I could see and the ocean, as blue as Byron’s eyes, lapped gently at the shore.
“Where the hell am I?” I muttered aloud as I drank in the scenery. It was beautiful here, but it felt… odd. The waves moved, but there were no birds in the sky, no other noises. This place was empty.
“It’s not hell,” a rich, deep voice muttered from behind me.
“Jesus, fuck,” I yelped as I jumped to my feet, prepared to defend myself. Which was stupid because I had no fucking magic. So what was I going to do, hurl a rock at the guy?
Fuck. Was I dead?
“You’re not dead,” the mystery guy said.
He was tall, with pale skin and auburn hair.
He was dressed for the beach in beige slacks and a white linen shirt that was only held together by two closed buttons.
The breeze tugged at the open corners of his shirt and I saw black runes painted down his skin.
“If I’m not dead, then where am I? Who are you? And how do you know what I’m thinking?”
His full lips curled into an arrogant smirk. “It’s the first thing everyone thinks when they turn up here. It’s called the In-Between.”
“The In-Between? Sounds like something out of a storybook.”
He chuckled and sat down, burying his toes in the sand. “Wilder, you’re not dead but you’re on the cusp.”
I sat next to him and stared out at the deep blue sea. “You’re Death, aren’t you?”
“Yes, but I go by Ray.” He looked at me and extended his hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Wilder.”
I eyed his fingers warily. They were covered in more of the same runes on his chest and I couldn’t help but think of Terence. “I don’t suppose you’re related to a Memory Wraith are you?”
His smile was warm as he held his hand steady, waiting for me to take it. “Yes, he’s my brother. You can take my hand, Wilder. I’m not here to kill you.”
I wrapped my fingers around his and gave his hand a firm shake. There was something a little uncomfortable about shaking hands with your demise. “Then why are you here?”
His eyes, that were the colour of dying stars, caught somewhere between red and orange, held mine with an unshakable firmness. “To send you back.”
“I don’t want to go back. Not without him.” The thought of living in a world without Byron could go to hell.
“He’s taking all your power, you know,” Ray said, his voice calm.
I dropped my chin to my knees. “I know. He can have it. I’d rather had Byron than all that power.”
There was a gaping hole in the space where Byron should be. That stupid man. How could he have done something as stupid as that? Jumping in front of a knife and for what?
I brushed away the angry tear that rolled down my cheek unbidden.
“It would be very bad if Belial got hold of your power,” Ray said softly as he drew lines in the sand.
“Belial?”
“The King’s real name. He is one of the Kings of Hell and he was Satan’s most devout follower.
After Satan fell in the last Holy War, he has wanted to exact revenge ever since.
He is a man with many fingers in many pies.
You were just one of them. He cannot be allowed to siphon a power like yours, Wilder. ”
“Why?”
Ray huffed a frustrated breath. “Always with all the questions. Well, for one, your gift is rare. You can freely communicate with the dead, with me and with anyone who has crossed over. On top of that, you have power over life. You could stop someone from crossing over if you wanted to. It will cost you and it’s not something you should do often, but you could almost bring someone back from the dead.
For another, when siphoned, your magic is as powerful as a supernova. It could power a universe, Wilder.”
“Or destroy one,” I muttered, understanding where Ray was going with this.
“Exactly. Do you want to be the reason that Belial causes an apocalypse?”
I scowled at him. “Adela was right, you are an asshole.”
“I’ve never proclaimed to be anything else. You need to go back.”
A gasp of breath, raw and agonising ripped through my chest. “But what about Byron? I can’t do this without him.”
“Fucking soul bounds, honestly, you’re worse than fated mates. Look, I’ll tell you where Byron is in exchange for something.”
I eyed him warily. I was already tied to his brother in a deal, was I willing to tie myself into another one. “What?”
“I want your agreement with Terence.”
My eyebrows shot to my hairline. “Come again.”
He rolled his eyes at me and I was so tempted to punch his face. “Terence and I haven’t spoken for nearly a millennia. He didn’t even invite me to his wedding. I want to talk to him and if you hand over the deal you made with him, he’ll have to speak to me.”
Families are so fucking weird but that was a deal I would happily make. I’d get Byron back and I wouldn’t be beholden to a Memory Wraith. Win-win for me. “Deal. Now how do I get Byron back?”
Ray’s eyes gleamed with mischief. “He’s not crossed over.”
“What?” Hope sparked in my chest, fragile and desperate to burn.
He pointed to a fancy little boat—sorry, yacht—that was moored at a little dock. “He’s waiting for you.”
“What? How?”
“Wilder, what you two have is rare. He’s refusing to die because he doesn’t want to be parted from you. He’s very demanding. And aggressive.”
I laughed and cried and oh, how bright that flame of hope burnt in my chest. I threw my arms around Ray, fully aware that I was hugging Death—weird—and jumped to my feet, racing to the boat and towards my man.
Hold on, Byron. I’m coming.