Page 10 of Bitter Spirits

“Don’t fuck with me,” Locke bit out as he got up in Isa’s face. She jerked back as Leo’s spirit tried to retreat. “Where did you get it?”

Isa’s throat bobbed as she swallowed. Terror seeped around the pools of black and spilled from her sputtering response. “I can’t… I don’t know…”

Isa’s features shifted, her voice mercilessly cold. “Lie.”

Her face contorted into an agonized mask as Leo struggled against the Reaper’s hold. Her aborted head shake and small jerky motions looked painful, as if Leo was fighting her. “I can’t tell you. He’ll kill me. I can’t…”

“You’re already dead,” Isa said, eerily calm.

“No… no! That’s not right.” Isa stumbled back a step, her hands coming halfway up before freezing in place. “That wasn’t supposed to happen! He promised!”

Isa’s eyes widened, and the masculine pitch of her voice escalated in panic. “What are you doing? Don’t! No! I can’t… stop!” Her body gave a massive jerk, her eyes screwed closed, and her grimace deepened as her mouth opened to release an unearthly wail. An invisible wind whipped through the room as something unsettling darkened the air.

Unnerved by a sense of being hunted, Locke braced, retrieved his blade—the hilt a familiar weight against his palm—and pivoted. He dropped into a defensive crouch, keeping the blade hidden as his magic searched the swirling shadows for the unseen threat. Behind him, the power surrounding Isa beat against his back like an incoming storm as the agonized pleas became a jumble of sound.

A heartbeat passed, then another, before the agonized wail cut off, leaving behind a fading echo. The shadows pulled back, and he watched their path as they returned to coil around the woman behind him. He was startled to see Isa holding a grisly staff. Taller than her, it appeared to be made of graying bone or stone and had a curved black blade at the top.

But that wasn’t the only change. The shadowy tendrils had solidified into an actual cloak. The change was so real he swore he could feel the brush of heavy material against his legs. Tendrils of shadow poured out of Isa, reforming into the amorphous shape from before. But it was less solid now and more tattered. She raised her staff and brought it down in a slashing motion almost too quick to follow. A shocking flash of white left Locke blinking his vision clear. When the living room came back into view, Isa stood stiff and straight, her attention aimed at Leo’s body at her feet, the writhing shadows nowhere in sight. The air was once again warm, but it did nothing to expel the stubborn chill gripping his bones.

“I warned you.”

It took him a moment to understand she was talking to him. “What?”

She lifted her head, her expression closed, her eyes back to hazel, but there was no hint of warmth in them. “What good was any of that, Locke?”

Her question caused a sting of guilt that he didn’t have the luxury of addressing. Clearly, whatever cost she’d paid to indulge him had caused her pain, but this situation had ramifications that outweighed his remorse. “You tell me.”

Without breaking eye contact, she slowly shook her head. “Uh-uh. You were the one looking for answers.”

He caught a glimpse of something else behind that blank mask, just a flash but enough to cut through the weirdness in his brain. Instinct or magic, or both, shuffled her reactions and came up with a curious picture. He took a wild guess. “You saw something.”

She continued to study him with that strange intensity.

He dug in. “You did, didn’t you?”

Silence stretched between them like a rubber band forced to its limits. Just before it snapped, she nodded.

“And…?” he asked.

“And much like Leo’s reactions, the images were… chaotic.” She carefully stepped around Leo’s body and inched back toward the front door, but she never stopped watching him.

He straightened and followed her retreat, not sure he believed her. Since calling her a liar would ignite an argument, he tried another angle. “You knew he was lying about the pill.”

She stilled. “I did.”

He held her gaze, pinning her in place, as he waited for her to elaborate. When she didn’t, he pushed. “Who gave it to him?”

“I don’t know!” she shot back, voice sharp, a little bit of her normal obstinacy reappearing.

He didn’t hide his skepticism, letting it free with raised eyebrows.

She let out a frustrated noise, dragged a hand through her hair, and spun away to pace in front of the door. “I don’t, Locke, but whoever they were, Leo was petrified of them. There was no name, no face that flashed through his mind when you asked, just this drowning depth of fear with enough pressure to break him.”

Something in her voice warned him not to push, so he let that go. For the moment. “Who’s Kelly?”

She flashed him a disgruntled look. “My server.” Her answer was short and final.

Okay, moving on. “And Isaiah? What did he know about him?”