Page 9 of Bitter Spirits

Power, thick and heavy, filled the space and pressed against him. Whispers teased his ears, but no matter how much he strained, he couldn’t make out the words, if there were any to understand. He shook his head to dislodge distracting noise and narrowed his attention to what was happening around Isa, but the strange murmuring persisted. He couldn’t be sure, thanks to the constantly shifting shadows, but he swore her lips were moving.

Time passed as a motionless Isa stood in the center of a whirling dance of darkness, facing the misty shape of Leo while the rush of haunting voices continued. He was unable to tell if it minutes or hours had passed when he realized silence had fallen—not a lack of noise but the kind of quiet that came from the absence of, well, everything. An unnatural stillness, as if the very air held its breath. Locke couldn’t help an instinctive jerk when Isa moved, lifting her arms and opening them wide. The hovering form of Leo drifted closer and closer, its shape stretching toward her as if drawn by a magnet until whatever was left of the man had merged with the writhing shadows around Isa. A visible shudder ran through her, and only then did her arms fall back to her sides. For a long moment, she simply stood there, a statue of darkness deeper than night and more intimidating than a nightmare.

Worried, Locke forced his stiff body to move, taking a couple of steps toward her. “Isa?”

She turned her head and pinned him with an unsettling stare.

He barely caught his flinch. “What in the⁠—”

One of her brows rose into an arrogant arch.

He swallowed down his reaction and quickly changed course. “Everything good?”

Her normal hazel was nothing more than a thin line of color around swirling black pools interrupted by starbursts of white. “It’s fine.” Her voice was flat, empty.

Disconcerted because Isa was normally all fire and flash, not this ice queen from hell, he asked, “You sure?”

She canted her head, her lashes coming down as she turned back to Leo. “Ask your questions quick. Leo’s not doing so good.”

The hint of sardonic amusement in her voice set his teeth on edge, but he ignored it and moved to the other side of Leo’s body so he could face her. It was disturbing how the woman watching him wore both Isa’s face and the casually cruel one with equal ease.

“How does this work?” he asked.

Her lips curved as something vicious slid through her inhuman gaze. “Ask your question. Leo answers.”

He couldn’t shake the sense there was more to this. “Can he lie?”

Her smile deepened. “Anyone can lie, Locke.”

“Can you tell when he’s lying?”

She inclined her head. “Yes.”

Instinct kept him from asking what would happen to Leo if he lied. He was damn sure he didn’t want to know because this being was not Isa. This was something older, colder, and far more callous than the firebrand who fascinated him. His magic agreed, prowling forward as it watched the unknown threat in front of him.

He folded his arms and got down to business. “Does he know where Isaiah Holmes is?”

The swirling in her eyes picked up speed as more tiny white pinpricks exploded across her black irises. A trickle of white noise, like a breeze rushing in, returned, and that weird whispering was back, teasing the edge of comprehension. Isa’s features shifted subtly, as if someone else was setting up shop under her skin. Her posture changed, shoulders rounding, hands opening and closing, her attention dropping to the body at her feet. Then a whimper escaped her. Isa’s voice, when it came, was all wrong—masculine, rough, with a touch of panic and confusion.

“Oh gods, that’s me! What’s going on? I can’t—” Isa made a lurch toward the body only to be jerked back by invisible bonds. “Oh gods⁠—”

“Leo!” Locke barked, trying to stop the spiraling hysteria of whatever remained of Leo. He waited until those wide eyes flew to his. “Where is Isaiah Holmes?”

Isa’s head jerked back up, and that weird dual layer of expressions was difficult to watch. Eventually, Leo’s confusion rose to the fore. “Isaiah? Was he with me tonight? What happened? Why can’t I remember? Did he do this? Is this why⁠—”

“Leo, I need you to focus. When did you last see Isaiah?”

“I… I don’t—” Isa’s head shook as she spun in place as if looking for something or someone. “Kelly was here. Where did—” She let out a pained hiss as her hands went to her temples and pressed in. “Someone’s screaming. Who’s screaming? Why won’t they stop?”

Locke skirted the body on the floor until he was within arm’s length of Isa. He reached out but stopped short of actually touching her—him—whoever the hell it was using Isa. Instead, he snapped his fingers inches from her face. “Hey, hey, man. Focus for me.”

Isa stumbled back, her head twisting this way and that as if searching for an escape route. Locke braced because he could tell she was about to bolt, but just as she started to move, she froze, the writhing shadows picking up speed, and somehow, the darkness gained depth.

Her head came up, and it was apparent the Reaper was back in control. “Go to the next question. He’s fragmenting too fast to hold on to.”

Locke gave her a grim nod. “Leo, the pill you gave Jigz. Where did you get it?”

Comprehension flashed through the inky orbs. “Pill?” This time, the question wasn’t confused—it was cagey as fuck. “What pill?”