Chapter 25
Isa
In the muffled quiet, Isa peered around the garden wall and caught a blur of movement near the oversized window.
It was Locke. He was reaching for the edge of the window when something came flying through it.
Shattering glass and pained grunts broke through the strange thick silence, and suddenly, the air was filled with noise and magic.
A body rolled over the pavers, chased by a wave of magic as it crashed into the fireplace, tossing aside wicker chairs like bowling pins.
It took her precious seconds to recognize who the body belonged to.
Carter. His face was twisted with rage. He rose to his feet. With his entire focus on the house, he moved a few steps forward, wiping his arm over his mouth.
Isa froze in a runner’s stance, one hand on the ground, one foot behind her, ready to sprint. To where, she had no clue, but if Carter looked to his right, he would see her.
“Let’s try something different, asshole,” he growled as magic twisted the world into a warped version of itself.
His power swept through the air and washed over Isa, and a flash of painful cold beat at the base of her throat.
Lost in the gray, with the warm stone under her hand the only solid reality, she clutched at the scythe charm against her chest and closed her eyes.
Somewhere out there, Locke would be stuck in Carter’s illusion, leaving him vulnerable to Angel.
If she moved and tried to interfere, the chance of her getting swept up in the illusion would be high.
Too high. She couldn’t leave Locke alone. She needed a distraction.
Starlit darkness spun behind her closed lids as the Reaper’s cloak settled on her shoulders. Whispers and needs wrapped around her, plucking at her attention, demanding to be acknowledged, but there was only one she was interested in.
“You promised me,” the hungry echo of Cora’s voice whispered.
Image after image swam past Isa’s consciousness, each one a tale of violent retribution, with Angel in a starring role. Cora’s vengeance spiraled higher. Buffered by the Reaper’s analytical take, Isa spared a moment to appreciate a couple of the more inventive ideas Cora spun.
“He’s here,” Isa said, her voice coolly detached.
“I know.” Piece by piece, the remnants of Cora’s spirit reformed into a wraith and drifted close. She reached out, her fingers coming within millimeters of Isa’s face. “Let me in.”
“No.” Isa didn’t flinch at that ghostly touch—she couldn’t afford to—as she wrapped the Reaper’s mantle tight, holding off the unwanted connection. “Not yet.”
“You promised,” Cora hissed, her face twisted into a ghoulish mask.
There was a faint twinge near Isa’s heart, but she held that unnatural stare. “I did, but you can’t take him on your own.”
An angry wail ripped through the air. Cora’s image wavered as if caught in a wind funnel, one minute bone and shadows, the next an angry woman.
Her attention rose beyond Isa, her face mostly monstrous as she hissed, “He’s so close.
” When she looked back at Isa, she was once again wearing Cora’s face, complete with an expression of rabid determination. “I can.”
Even as pity stirred, Isa held strong. “You can’t, but if you let me lead, I can give you a shot at getting your own back.”
Cora cocked her head. “How?”
“Help me disable the illusion mage, and I’ll play bait with Angel.”
Cora’s lips curved in a vicious smile. “Bait?” she said as if savoring the word. “Yes, that would work.”
The arguing reached them as behind Cora, the starlit scene broke into frayed gray shadows, glimpses of a furious Carter filtering through. His features twisted with fury, his mouth moving as he wielded the rippling magic, warping the space close to him.
Cora whipped around, spotted the mage in the rift, and darted forward.
“Cora, stop!” Isa yanked on the tethers tying the spirit to her. “You can’t cross without me.”
The spirit froze inches away from where the two worlds met, her hands clawing at the air as if trying to tear her way through. Her head twisted around, revealing twin black holes lit by an earthly glow in a skeletal face. “Release me!”
“Not until you agree to help stop the illusion mage first then Angel.”
In this space outside of time, maddened wails grew to enraged screams as invisible winds whipped around the Reaper and the spirit.
Cora’s storm of jagged fury and devious calculation swept over the unbending Reaper, the flood barely rippling the Reaper’s cloak.
Cora glided back through shadows and stopped in front of her, a shadow of cunning slipping underneath the ever-changing features.
“Illusion mage first,” the spirit agreed then rushed the Reaper.
Magic flared into a bright explosion, and ice invaded every molecule of Isa’s body in a breath-stealing rush that left her nerves screaming.
As the chill spread, the screaming faded into an eerie nothingness.
Isa felt a curious wrenching sensation as the magical vow allowed Cora control of her body.
Then she was moving forward at a speed that blurred Isa’s perception.
One minute, she was in the starlit darkness.
The next, she stood just behind Carter, tapping him on the shoulder.
The illusion mage spun around, his magic turning with him. His eyes widened as they landed on her, confused, angry, and a little unhinged. He stumbled back. “Isa? Wha—”
“I need your help.” Cora shoved Isa’s hands brutally hard into Carter’s broad chest, a combination of magic and unnatural strength sending him flying backward. He careened into a cluster of large, plant-filled terra cotta pots. They toppled over, shattering against the pavers.
Carter caught himself on the squat chimney of the cast-iron outdoor fireplace. “What the hell are you doing?” His attention went beyond her, and with a muttered oath, he dove to the side.
Cora-Isa turned just as a whip of black-flecked olive green magic snapped past, its target Carter.
Startled, Cora lost hold of Isa’s body, and the off-balance Isa tried to dart out of the line of fire only to trip over her damn feet.
She hit the ground hard, the impact rattling up her arms to jar her teeth.
Behind her, Carter gave an angry bellow, and an answering wave of magic swept out, the world twisting as illusionary power played with reality.
Isa used her magic to fight the trailing edges of Carter’s attack. She lifted her head and caught sight of Locke near the patio in a half crouch, Angel coming up on his left. “Locke, your left!”
She didn’t get a chance to see if he heard her as something heavy slammed into her hip, knocking her to her back. Pain radiated out from her hip, joining the bruising ache of the gun tucked at the base of her spine.
Carter loomed over her, raising his foot to kick her again, his face contorted into a malicious frenzy. “Bitch! Stay down!”
As Carter stomped down, she rolled and scrambled to her feet, reaching for the gun.
But she was too slow. Carter lunged and caught her in a bone-bruising grip.
He trapped her arms to her sides as he squeezed and lifted.
Pain exploded along her torso, and the distraction was enough for Cora to reclaim physical control.
Together, she and Isa slammed their head forward, smashing their forehead into Carter’s nose.
A cry erupted as pain whited out their vision.
They thought they heard Isa’s name, but then the constricting hold rose, and they were free.
They stumbled backward, trying to get air into their battered lungs, and tripped over broken pottery and dirt.
They fell against the cast-iron fireplace but stayed on their feet.
A good thing because Carter was shaking his head, his nose a bloodied mess, his eyes wild as he charged them again.
This time, they managed to get a grip on the gun and draw it, but Carter was too close.
He slammed his fist into their arm, and their fingers spasmed, the gun tumbling from their nerveless grip.
Before they could evade him, he followed up with a vicious kick.
They spun out of the way, but Carter’s boot clipped their thigh.
They stumbled back again. A gleam of satisfaction flared in Carter’s maddened gaze as he closed in.
Undaunted, they calculated their odds. Their gaze skittered around for another weapon and found one miraculously hanging on the back of the firepit’s round chimney—a thick piece of wrought iron with a spiked hook.
They lunged for the poker, yanked it free, and then, fueled by lethal determination and gleeful vengeance, they swung.
The hooked end sank into the side of Carter’s neck and held tight.
Carter roared, hands going to their makeshift weapon.
He jerked back as they yanked forward. The poker tore free, and Carter’s shout turned to a gurgle.
Blood spilled over his hands, which were hovering over his ravaged throat.
He stumbled forward one step, then two. On three, his knees buckled, sending him face forward into the fireplace with a sickening thud.
They stood there, breath heaving, gore-smeared poker held to the side, as they watched Carter’s limp body crumple to the pavers. Inside the Reaper’s body, two spirits watched, one filled with a terrible glee, the other numb.
An unnerving giggle filled the air, then Cora said, “Your turn.”
Feeling as if she was moving in a strange vacuum, Isa could only ask, “What?”
The spirit went from amused to threatening in less than a heartbeat. “I needed Carter to help me with Angel. Now bring him to me.”
The inky tendrils of Isa’s power were already sliding around Carter’s broken body, not because she wanted to do as Cora asked but because the vow’s binding demanded compliance. She called for Carter’s soul—part of her horrified, another resigned—as she pulled the soul pieces together.
Carter’s face was wreathed in confusion as he looked around. Cora rushed forward and threw her arms around him. “Hey, Carter! I’m so glad you’re here.”
The confusion on his face deepened even as his big arms came around her. “Cora? You’re okay?”
The spirit pulled back. “Now I am.”
Carter’s attention flicked to Isa, and horrified understanding dawned. He shoved Cora back, his gaze bouncing from Isa to Cora and back. “No. What the fuck? This isn’t happening. I can’t be—” His mouth snapped shut as if to trap the word.
“Dead?” Isa finished for him. “Afraid so.” She hitched her chin to Cora. “And you can thank her.”
“You’re welcome,” Cora said with an infuriating casualness.
He lunged for her, but she winked out, only to reappear a few feet away. When he tried again, Isa locked his spirit in place. “Carter, stop.”
His spirit stood there, trapped in the Reaper’s hold. “Send me back.”
She shook her head. “I can’t.”
Cora moved into Carter, leaving only inches between them. She cupped his face, forcing him to look at her. “I need you.”
Carter stared down at her. “What happened to you?”
“Angel killed me,” she said. Carter jerked against her, but Cora held tight. “That’s why I need you. We have to make him pay.”
She continued to croon to him, and he shook his head.
The inky tendrils of Isa’s power curled slowly around the couple, binding them together. Isa started to protest, only to have Cora’s voice invade her mind in a feral hiss. “You made a vow, Reaper.”
I asked you for a distraction, Isa told her. The words formed in her mind, her voice silenced.
“He’s distracted!” Cora snapped. “But I need his power to get Angel.” She rose and covered Carter’s mouth with hers in an obscene kiss.
Isa’s gut lurched as realization dawned.
Her vow meant she had to physically host Cora until she garnered full payment from Angel.
And that vow allowed no wiggle room, so any and every power available to her was also accessible to Cora for the duration.
Reapers could drain a soul and use that energy to boost their own.
And now Cora was draining Carter for her own use. Isa could only stand as witness.
The part of her that was Isa slid deeper away, needing to escape the wash of self-recrimination. The Reaper part of her continued to observe with a detached curiosity. It didn’t take Cora long to drain Carter to dregs that faded into nothing.
Cora, bloated with power, laughed and stepped back into the world, dragging the Reaper with her.