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Motioning to Greta, I said, “I’m ready. When…?”
I had to wait until he was on the verge of death before I sucked out his soul. I could do so several ways. With the courageous and those who deserved a hero’s death, it would be with a kiss. With Wylie, it would be different.
She closed her eyes briefly. “You have…when his clock strikes three twelve, his heart will fail, and you will collect his soul.” She motioned to the mantel, where a chiming clock sat. It read three ten.
I prepared myself, standing beside him, waiting. He had no clue I was here, waiting. He had no knowledge, no sense that he was about to die. As I stared down at him, trying to corral my emotions, I felt a spark flare from deep within. There it was—the trigger that Greta had taught me to look for.
It started as a small flicker, but I fanned it to life, nurtured it, coaxed it out and quickly, the flames ignited to a bonfire. When I looked at my target again, Wylie no longer resembled the man I knew, but instead a beacon, ready to explode. The urge to gather him up, to pull him to me was so strong that I had to hold back as I hovered on the edge of time, waiting for the clock to count down his last seconds.
And then, he suddenly clutched at his left arm, and—with a frightened look—stared directly at me.
“Delilah—” His whispered plea was his last, as he began to leave his body. Before he could run, I reached out and touched him, sucked his memories deep into my own. We vanished into a field of mist and shadow, where the moon watched from high over head, a sliver of first light.
And then…
Flash. Wylie sat in a room, meeting with other coyote shifters, only I sensed they weren’t from the local community. They sat around a table that looked oddly familiar. I’d seen it somewhere before. I racked my brain but couldn’t place it, though I’d seen the carved patterns on the edge before.
Then, the door opened and Van and Jaycee entered, with another man—large, bald, and dangerous looking. A Vin Diesel look-alike but with a surly sneer instead of a sexy smile. He was wearing a pendant with a stunning sapphire in the center. One of the spirit seals. He fingered it and I could feel the clash of energy waging as he summoned a dark spirit through it…
Flash. An ancient man, holding his hands up as an explosion of fire came racing out of his fingers to destroy an entire village. As the smoke roiled off the burning buildings, the screams of women and children echoed through the ash-filled sky. Flames leaped from rooftop to rooftop, catching on the thatch as the village burned to the ground. The sorcerer began to laugh as people ran into the streets, burning like torches. A little girl looked up at him and held out her hands before he engulfed her in another wave of flame.
Flash. Wylie, handing a thick bundle of cash over to Van and Jaycee along with a piece of paper. I leaned closer and saw the schedule for the Supe Community Council printed on it. A sick grin sidled across his face as he said, “Stupid idiots will find out why the Koyanni are nothing to mess with.”
Flash. Wylie, meeting with a man who looked as old as time, and as maddened. He looked crafty, and the smell of death and decay hung heavy around his shoulders.
Flash. Wylie, with a woman, beating her senseless as she cowered, trying to fend off his blows. As she crawled toward the door, he gave her a swift kick. “Get out of here, you bitch. And take your fucking rugrat with you.” And then I saw the little boy standing in the corner, thumb in his mouth, crying as he watched, eyes wide.
Flash. Wylie, with Van and Jaycee again, talking to someone who was so pale he looked sick. And then the man laughed, and a flash of fangs told me he was a vampire. He pushed a picture of Trixie over to Wylie, who nodded.
Sickened, I slammed the door to his memories. I’d seen enough. Wylie turned to me as I laid hold of his collar and lifted him off his feet.
“What are you doing to me? What’s going on?” Fear flashed in his eyes, but I didn’t care.
“Fires of the void, come forth to my bidding. Cleanse this soul and pass it through your center.” As he struggled, a roar from the skies echoed through the swirling mist, and a wave, riding the night wind, came rushing down to clamor against us. I held him fast against the raging gale.
Wylie screamed, his cries echoing in the night, but a sudden thirst for justice rolled through me and I let out a laugh that reverberated through the night.
“Scream as loud as you want. No one can help you. Wylie Smith, the Hags of Fate have sealed your destiny. Prepare for oblivion.”
The wave of fire rushed over him, a purple flame burning through his essence, clearing the energy and rendering it harmless. As understanding washed through his eyes, he let out one last scream and then, with a final roar, the flames reduced his soul to ashes and swept them up, carrying them away.
“I am the instrument of judgment,” I whispered, reaching toward the sky as Wylie Smith vanished forever from the eternal cycle—his consciousness gone forever. His soul was harmless energy floating forever in the great pool from which all life sprang.
As I lowered my hands, I blinked and was standing back next to Greta. I turned to her and she smiled softly.
“Well done, my dear.”
There were so many questions I wanted to ask, and yet I couldn’t phrase them. I didn’t even know if I really understood what they were.
“Why didn’t we end up in the training garden—where you took Ronald Wyndham Niece to deliver his soul to Valhalla?” I looked around. We were still standing in Wylie’s house, albeit on the astral level. The first time Greta had come for me we’d been in a wild, forested grove with a training circle made of bronze, covered in magical symbols.
“Because that place is reserved for those who deserve a beautiful transition. Who deserve a hero’s farewell. There is a darker place where we can take the worst of the worst, but since this was your first official solo, I decided to make it easier on you. The next training session, I will take you through all the places we collect our souls and teach you how to get there.”
She stood back. “Do you understand why you were assigned to him?”
I closed my eyes, the kaleidoscope of images from Wylie’s mind running through my head. I’d thought him a nice, gentle person, and totally misjudged him. He’d been a traitor, a spy…and he’d helped kill Exo and the others. He may not have planted the explosive, but he’d been as responsible for their deaths as if he’d tossed the canya himself.
Don’t forget the spirit seal… a little voice whispered inside me, and I focused on the image of the man wearing the sapphire. The seventh spirit seal. I tried to zoom in on his face, to remember every nuance so I could tell the others. The spirit seal was out there and in the possession of someone dangerous. And he knew how to use it.
