Dark Destiny (50 page)

Turning his back, the Reaper walked away from Morose. The biker zombie and the other Souls wasted no time descending upon the Seal. Morose let out a moan of fear and Sebastian couldn’t help but turn to watch. They were ruthless, tearing into him with hands and teeth, like a pack of starving vultures. The Reaper tried to ignore Morose’s shrieks and the guttural snarling of the zombies seeking their revenge. Black blood spattered onto the nearby tombstones and grave markers. Sebastian knew he shouldn’t feel sorry for Morose, but he couldn’t help himself. For a brief moment he considered intervening, but then he remembered what he’d done to Makayla. He was thankful when the shrieking finally stopped.

Sebastian rubbed his face with his hands in exhaustion. He needed to get out of here. He was about to
blink
away when a scuffling noise from nearby caused him to whirl around. Cleo tried to push herself off the dirt. He shook his head in frustration. He’d had enough of this fight.

Just as he braced himself for whatever onslaught she was about to unleash upon him, the fabric of reality tore open and Vlad burst out of the haunt Sebastian had locked him in.

“Seriously?” the Reaper exclaimed. “I thought that only myself and the Souls were able to go in and out of haunts.”

Vlad leapt toward the haunt that Sebastian had placed around the Seal portal, the haunt blocking any Seals from entering or leaving the cemetery in which they stood. Then the great knight reared back and sliced. Lightning cracked from his attack and the entrance to the haunt faded. The Seal portal stood open once again, a ring of fire and crackling lightning hovering above the earth.

It seems Vlad has another ability. He can neutralize other powers.

“Of course he can,” the Reaper muttered, his eyes darting back and forth between Cleo, Vlad, and the sizzling portal.

“Vlad?” Cleo’s icy voice penetrated the air. “Kill the Horseman.”

The Reaper sighed. Apparently this wasn’t over yet. Even though he was at full power, he was not in the mood to have another battle. Before he had decided what course of action to take, the sky opened. Clouds swirled, forming a tornado that settled itself a few feet from where the Reaper stood. Sebastian stepped back, not knowing what to expect—more Seals perhaps, or something worse? Cleo and Vlad stepped back as well, their faces set in angry determination.

The tornado glowed a brilliant white light, too blinding to gaze upon. Then a familiar, feminine voice rang out from the swirling clouds.

“If you kill the Horseman, the war will start right now.”

The clouds thinned somewhat and Sebastian squinted at the still bright vortex. He made out four beings within the tornado: three were tall with broad shoulders, but one was quite small and had a woman’s form. She stepped away from the swirling clouds. Her long blonde hair flowed with a life of its own. She had a soft, pretty face, and she was young, not much older than Sebastian. She wore the same style of clothing as the Angels, only in white instead of black. Sebastian glanced at the swirling clouds and realized the three figures were Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael. They stood straight, like soldiers, immobile but alert. The woman stopped between the Reaper and the Seals. Sebastian knew who this was, though he’d never seen her human form.

“Ariel?” the Reaper asked.

She glanced at him and smiled. He almost blurted out, “You’re
hot
,’” but he contained himself.

Ariel faced the Seals. Vlad braced his blade in front of him defensively and the three Angels stepped forward in unison. The swirling clouds behind them dissipated as they stood shoulder to shoulder just behind Ariel. A poisonous smile slithered onto Cleo’s face.

“Oh, look,” Cleo hissed. “Men.”

She stretched her hand out in front of her toward the Angels.

“If you even think about it, I will strike you where you stand,” Ariel warned, her tone icy.

“And Vlad will do the same to you,” Cleo replied.

They stood staring at one another, the air tense. On one side, Ariel and the three brothers; on the other, Cleo and Vlad. Sebastian braced himself for battle, centering his weight and tightening his grip on the scythe. This was about to get ugly. It was true he had some hard feelings toward some of the Angels, but if a massive fight broke out, he would have their back in a heartbeat.

“Cleo,” a deep bass voice rang out from the fiery portal. “The Seal has been made active.”

Her gaze darted to her armband. She smiled at seeing a sixth rune glowing. “Yes. It has.”

The deep voice continued. “It makes no difference about the newborn. We have succeeded without him. Come.”

“Yes, Nero,” Cleo said. She took Vlad’s arm and the two stepped toward the portal. At the entrance, she turned back to Sebastian. “We shall meet again. And next time, you will not be so lucky as to have these Angels come to your rescue.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” the Reaper said.

Cleo licked her lips, smiled menacingly, and stepped through the portal, Vlad following behind. The fiery ring sizzled and then disappeared.

Sebastian sighed as he turned to the Angels. No one spoke, but Raphael met his eyes and acknowledged him with a nod, as though they shared an understanding. Gabriel’s nostrils flared and he narrowed one eye. Then, without warning, Michael
blinked
away. Gabriel followed immediately, and then Raphael.

He stood face to face with Ariel, expecting her to follow the other Angels. She gazed on in earnest, but he couldn’t identify her expression. It was as though she wanted to say something, yet couldn’t. She bit her bottom lip and gazed at him with eyes so intense that Sebastian thought he understood.

The silence lingered longer than Sebastian would have preferred.

“Yes?” he prompted.

Her expression changed, became indifferent.

“It’s not important.” And without another word she
blinked
away.

Sebastian sighed. He was alone in the cemetery. Morose’s body had been completely devoured and all the zombies were gone. The tombstones lay in ruins, and many dead trees lay broken and splintered on the ground. In the sky, the crimson moon sat, fat and glowering. He sighed in exhaustion, yawned, and then
blinked
away.

Wednesday, 8:30 am

He came out of his
blink
on the sidewalk just outside Sara’s destroyed house. Was his
blink
off? He’d intended to go to his room. The looming, empty house stood in front of him, a small section of the roof cratered in, the rest of it missing entirely. Dislodged bricks and chunks of insulation and concrete littered the front yard. The house slumped before him looking ominous, as if it were possessed by some malevolent intelligence, daring him to enter and be devoured.

“Did the Angels relocate me again?” asked Sebastian, his tone annoyed. His robes were gone, leaving him back in his normal clothing. The sky was dark gray and overcast, and a light sprinkle of rain began to fall. He exhaled, mist forming from his hot breath.

No, I did this time.

“Why?”

I just detected a presence in this house I felt you needed to know about.

“A presence?” Sebastian repeated. “Who would be here? The only person who would consider coming here would be
—
”

His eyes widened. A beat passed.

“Sara,” he whispered.

Yes.

“Are you sure it’s her? You were fooled before, right?”

Indeed, I was. Makayla’s Soul was an almost exact match, but Makayla is now in the Light. I cannot feel her there. The same signature has returned. I must assume that this is Sara.

Sebastian’s hands shook and he put them in his pockets in an attempt to steady them. His heart rate picked up. A shy nervousness crept into his body. If this was indeed the real Sara, what would he say? Things just didn’t add up. What happened the night she “supposedly” died? If she wasn’t really dead, why hadn’t she come to him? Did she know about Makayla? Was she responsible for what happened?

No. Not his Sara. There is no way she would intentionally be a part of the crazy plan the Seals had put him though. There must be another explanation. Too many things just didn’t add up.

He rubbed the back of his head, trying to think. His memory flashed back to when he saw Ethan in the canoe. Ethan said something about Sara, but what? What had he been trying to tell Makayla? Sara was a . . .

I can clear that up for you. Here.

The memory played out once again, deep in his mind. He was once again a spectator viewing Makayla’s memory. Only this time, the storm had ceased. Ethan’s voice was crystal clear.

“Sara is a Seal Witch.”

Sebastian blinked. “No,” he whispered.

He shook his head, anger boiling in his gut. Could it be true? Impossible. But the facts were hard to deny. He narrowed his eyes. “It’s about time she and I had that talk.”

Wednesday, 8:31 am (Purgatorium)

Blinking
into the room, he found Sara—though it took him a moment to realize it was her—lighting candles with an old fashioned lighter. The kind with a piece of lit wick on one end, and a candle snuffer on the other. The candles lay scattered all over the floor, desk, and shelving unit. There had to be twenty or thirty of them. She was dressed completely differently from her normal fashionable style. Where before she always looked as if she’d just emerged from a model shoot at Vogue, now she looked like she’d just come from a punky dive bar in Northern England. She wore a tight black shirt with rips in it and a tight fitting black leather mini skirt. Where before her makeup was always minimal, allowing her natural beauty to shine through, now her eyes were thick with black eyeliner and she even sported several facial piercings, including a chain that went from her left ear to her nostril, three eyebrow rings, and a stud through her bottom lip. Her hair, once long, thick and shining brown, was now red, shaved half way up one side of her head and pulled into spiky braids on the other. What confused him even more than the strange hair, however, were her eyes. They had once been the deepest, darkest blue, but he could have sworn they now looked brown.

Sebastian took in her appearance from head to toe, down to her black and silver thigh-high leather boots, with his mouth half-open.

Though it had been raining outside, and though Sara’s bedroom had no roof, no rain fell in the room and the candles burned bright. Sebastian thought back as he glanced around the room, so radically different from how he remembered it. So much had happened since then. Gone was the ruined and decrepit look. Now her room held more than a passing resemblance to an apothecary. Shelves of various vials of liquid hung on the walls. Odd plants decorated different sections of the room. In the center, on the floor, lay a large worn rug with a swirling design on it in faded reds and purples. Off in the corner sat a small cauldron that gave off the aroma of chili. Sebastian couldn’t tell where its heat source came from, as he couldn’t see a fire or even an electric element beneath it.

“Is this even the same room?” Sebastian said to himself. Then it occurred to him. “This is a haunt.”

“You’ve learned a lot since we last spoke,” she complimented, still busy with her candles.

“Since we last spoke?” Sebastian thought back. “You mean, when you came to my room a few days ago? When you gave me the book?” He rolled his eyes at himself, remembering how confused he’d been that she’d been able to carry the giant thing. Why hadn’t he thought more about that?

Sara didn’t answer. She simply went about her business, lighting the remaining candles that gave everything in the room an orange glow.

He was afraid to ask, but the words trembled out. “Is this your haunt?”

A half-smile tugged at one corner of her lip. “The owner of this haunt allows us to use his apothecary and, in exchange, we allow him to go on existing.”

Uneasiness filled the air. An awkwardness. He wanted so much to find out that Sara was just a victim, cruelly manipulated by the evil Seals. But it wasn’t just her appearance that seemed altered. There was no love in her tone, no sweetness in her smile. She was cold, indifferent. Her manner rattled him.

“Are you dead?” he asked in a pained voice.

“That’s a matter of perspective.”

Sebastian blinked. “What does
that
mean?”

“It doesn’t matter,” she answered, finally turning to him. Then she arched her brow. “Are you sure you want to have this conversation? I’m afraid you might not like the answers.”

Sebastian took a deep breath and pressed forward. “You’re helping the Seals, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she answered with a shrug. He didn’t like how casual she was about it. He could have easily replaced the question with “do you like cheesecake,” and her tone would have been the same. Her appearance didn’t matter. She mattered. But still. Her aloof manner, her admission . . . it staggered him. He swallowed hard and took a step back. “Why?”

“It’s complicated, Sebastian. Just as both life and death are complicated. The Seals have done a great deal for me. I was only doing my part.”

A glimmer of hope. “So you’re trapped into helping them?”

“No. I can leave whenever I wish. But I choose not to. This is the path I freely chose, and I embrace it.”

His heart sank. He paced back and forth. “But, what about everything else?” He stopped pacing. “Sara, you faked your death
—
”

“Not technically. You can’t fake dying if you were never alive to start with.”

That jarred him. He took a step back. So, she
was
dead. Well, that term was relative. Clearly Sara had been in Purgatorium at some point. The Seals must have recruited her from there in order to do their business.

He would need to go into an in depth discussion with the Elder about Seal Witches later.

He took a deep breath. “You used me, to bring down a Soul. Why?”

Sara shrugged. “You already know the answer to that. We needed another Seal. You were the one that could get it for us.”