Grave Memory: An Alex Craft Novel (47 page)

I sucked in a breath, my body becoming hyperaware so that the heat from his hands spread through me. But this wasn’t the time or the place. I had one friend waiting in Faerie, almost everyone else I cared about outside the door, and a gluttonous creature from the land of the dead out there who was likely to kill as soon as he realized he was wearing a wanted man.
Definitely not the time.
I stepped back, out of Death’s hands.

He started to follow me, a teasing glint in those hazel eyes. Then he froze. I saw the colors dance in his iris and knew he was seeing threads of possibility in someone’s life. His brow creased in something that mixed sorrow with anger.

“I found him.”

“Tell me I’m allowed to interfere. The rider is definitely not part of the normal mortal world.”

“I only see one possible end for this soul.”

Yeah, well I have to try.
I darted across the room and threw open the door. I ran passed a shocked-looking Caleb and Holly to Rianna’s office. She sat in the center of a circle drawn in the corner of her room. Desmond, in his doglike form once more, sat in front of the circle as if guarding her. Even through my shields, with the amount of magic Rianna was actively wielding, she glowed a slight purple from Aetheric energy.

“Is it ready?”

She looked up. “Almost.”

I doubted almost was soon enough. We hadn’t figured out how we were going to stop the rider yet, but if we could trap it in a body again, it would give us time to figure something out. Not much time. The rider had drained Larid in only two days. But a day or two was better than nothing. Unfortunately, Rianna and Holly both specialized in active casting, so creating a weaponized knockout potion was taking time.

Time we didn’t have.

Death stepped into the room. “Alex, you’re not going to be able to save this one. If you’re coming, it has to be now.”

Damn.

I knew he was right. I had no way to stop it from killing its current victim, but maybe I could stop it while it was between victims.
Or I could make it worse. Like I did at the restaurant.
But Death wasn’t warning me off this time, he was taking me with him. I accepted his hand, and his cold magic washed over me.

The next moment we were on a street somewhere downtown.

“Where—?” I didn’t finish the question, as Death dragged me flat against a building.

A body hit the pavement where we’d been standing the moment before.
There had never been a chance.
Maybe if we’d left when Death had first felt the call. My anger made hot tears lift to my eyes. I ignored them. It was too late for Martin. But maybe I could stop the rider from taking another victim.

The darkness rose from the body as people stopped, turning. There were screams, and I saw several cell phones appear. People drew nearer, even as they averted their eyes.

“Don’t let go of my hand,” Death said, drawing me far closer to the body than I wanted to be, but I could see the soul, knew it needed freeing.

I watched the miasma pouring out of the broken form. I’d tangled with the rider at its full strength before. I didn’t want a rematch, not a fair one at least.

Unfair, well, I wasn’t above that.

Reaching out with my ability to touch the dead, my senses brushed against the darkness and tried to shy away. I pushed, psychically reaching into the miasma. Roy had said that everything in the land of the dead was energy. Manipulating the energy from the grave was something I was very familiar with. Reaching into that forming mass, I tugged with my magic. The effect was the exact opposite of how I channeled energy into Roy. I drew energy from the
rider, pulling that thick ugliness into my body. I’d done this once before, months ago—it was no better a second time around.

The rider poured out of the body, fast, definitely faster than I could drain it. Desperation vibrated along the energy I pulled.
Good.
I wanted it off balance. I forgot that desperate creatures were twice as dangerous. To escape me, it dove for the closest mortal.

Death.

No
.

I pulled with everything I had, drawing hard with my magic. But it seeped into his body too fast, disappearing behind living skin that my magic couldn’t penetrate.

Death went ridged, the soul of Martin Tanner still in his hand. Gritting his teeth, Death flicked his hand, sending the soul on. But the rider was inside him now, spreading.

“Alex, get out of here.” Death fell to his knees, sweat breaking across his forehead as he struggled with the foreign invader. “I can feel this thing’s hate for you. It will kill you.”

“I won’t let it have you.” Though how the hell was I going to stop it? Inside a body it was beyond my reach.

Usually, at least. But I had a direct link to Death. He carried my life.

I dropped to my knees beside Death, my hand still in his, giving me an extra link to him as I opened my mind, sensing the connection between us.

“No,” he said in a strained whisper. “Run. I can’t fight it.”

I didn’t care. The rider was not going to use and discard Death.

I felt the darkness filling his body, but it was my life force it attached itself to. I tried to reach for that darkness.

I wasn’t fast enough.

Death’s head shot up, his hazel eyes turning oily black. The thing inside him smiled, the expression a defilement to Death’s features.

“Hello, Craft. Look at us holding hands. Was this body important to you?” it asked as I jerked away.

A wave of dread and sickness washed over me, my blood turning thick with it. This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t. “Why are you doing this?”

“Why? You’re a grave witch, so you’ve seen my world. That desolate place where thirst is never quenched, where everything is dry dust. Dead. Decayed. So unlike your living world. This realm of decadence is marvelous.” He spread Death’s arms, as if embracing the world.

My disgust with the creature redoubled. It had killed how many people, had created how many ghouls, because it wanted to indulge in the living world? Well, Death wouldn’t be the next victim to its hedonism. I wouldn’t let it have him.

I was still trying to figure out how to reach the rider, to draw it out of Death. Which meant I had to keep it talking. “That’s a crappy reason to kill people.”

The thing snapped Death’s gaze toward me, eyes dark. “Mortals die, but if you are so distressed, let me free you from your pain.”

Death’s hand shot out, crashing into my chest. Literally. His hand broke flesh and snapped bones. It wasn’t fear that tightened around my heart, but Death’s fingers.

The rider in Death’s body jerked his hand, and my heart, free of my chest. Pain radiated through me, too much for my body and brain to process. I collapsed.

“Good-bye, Craft.” The rider made Death’s harmonic voice sound rough, hard. He dropped my heart in the grass beside me.

I stared at him. Not breathing. Not blinking. Waiting to die. Except I didn’t. My body didn’t even have the decency to lose consciousness.

Not that the rider noticed.

“This body,” he said, stepping over me and holding up his hands, letting my blood drip down his arm. “How very different. I shall enjoy it.”

The rider in Death’s body walked away. I watched, unable to stop him. As I lost sight of Death in the growing crowd, my anger warred with crippling despair.

Anger won. The fury consuming me left no room for physical pain. I had to do something. Death was vulnerable only because he’d become mortal to save me. I couldn’t let the rider have him.

With effort, I pushed away from the grass. People stared. Too many people. Too many witnesses. Not that I could do anything about them. But I had to get out of the area before the first responders arrived.

Moving was slow at first. Even with a nearly impervious body, it took time to figure out how to function without a heart. Precious time because every second Death’s body traveled farther away. I couldn’t see him, but I felt the growing distance from my life force.

I had no idea how long I’d lain near the dead man. It felt like hours but couldn’t have been more than minutes. I did know one thing: the rider was gone, taking Death’s body with him, and I had to find them. I had to eject the rider from Death. I even had an idea how—return Death’s essence. No body left nothing for the rider to inhabit.

But first I needed to see a man about a heart and a soul.

I
felt like the tin man, off to see the wizard. Except I already had a heart. It was in my purse. The saddest thing about the whole situation? I had my heart in a Ziploc bag and that wasn’t the worst part of my day.

I’ll find him.
But despite the fact I didn’t currently have a heart, I ached as if I did.

It was early afternoon, so I wasn’t sure the club where Death and I had found the raver would be open yet, but I lucked out. I had to pay the cover this time to get inside—no convenient teleporting for me—but it was open. The club was quieter this early in the day, so it wasn’t hard to find the raver in the thin crowd. Or for her to spot me.

“Oh, I’m clearly going to have to find a new place to party,” she said, shaking her head and making her dreads quiver.

“I’m pretty sure this is the only techno club in the city.”

“So how about we say it’s off limits to you,” she said, her long fingernails making dull thud sounds as she tapped her bright PVC pants. Then she looked at me, really looked at me. “You don’t look so hot, chick. What did you get into now?” She paused. “And why are you alone?”

“I got my heart ripped out.”

“And he left you with his essence in you. Why—” She stopped. “Fuck, you’re being literal.”

“I’m guessing the mender will need it to fix me?” I held up the bag with the aforementioned organ.

The raver glanced at the plastic bag, her eyes rounding. “You are one weird chick. Well, come on, then.”

A reassuring
thump
knocked in my chest as my flesh stopped rippling. The mender dropped his hand.

“You get into even worse trouble than I’d been warned,” he said as my heart pounded out another beat and fell into a regular rhythm.

“I assure you, this was a first for me.”

“Good to know. I have collectors who’ve been with me for decades and haven’t received as much mending as you have in two days.” He made a motion as if dusting off his hands. “I expect you not to make this a habit.”

That wasn’t going to be a problem.
I doubt I’ll be returning.

“Really, and why is that?”

Crap, I forgot he was telepathic. Well, now or never. “The last time I was here you gave me a message for”—I hesitated before referring to Death the way he and the raver did—“him.”

The mender nodded again, waiting for me to continue.

“Well, he’s not in a position to make a choice. I’m going to be forced to return his essence to save him.”

“That is good. I value him as a collector. He has compassion for his souls but aside from recent transgressions, still does his job efficiently. That is not always the case.”

I shook my head. “That’s not where I’m going with this. The options you gave him, I need your word they are negated since he cannot make a choice.”

“Child, he already made his decision. He could have exchanged your life essences the moment he got my message. By not doing so, he made the choice that left him vulnerable to his current predicament.”

I shook my head again, and the look the mender gave me was one an elder might give a young child: sympathetic, but unwavering in resolve.

“No, I refuse to accept that to save his life I condemn his soul. I want another option.”

“He knew the dangers when he made his choice.”

My fists clenched at my sides. The mender’s glance flickered to them, and I forced my fingers straight. “No. I can’t accept that.”

“Which is also a choice.”

He said it so calmly, so assured in his position—I’d never wanted to hit someone so bad in my life. I was pretty sure this guy could give my father a run for his money.

“I can’t make the decision to trap his soul for all eternity.”

“Then you decide to let him die, and when he does, you likely will as well.”

“Are you trying to frighten me?” Even as I asked I knew he was only stating the facts as he saw them. “Fine. You said you value him as a collector. Wouldn’t you rather have him back than dead?”

His eyes softened as his face turned to that of an elder’s again, his features full of sympathy. “Child, in all likelihood, you will not survive the trial ahead of you and he will choose to follow you before I have an opportunity to stop him. It is why they dislike you, you know. It isn’t due to our laws—or because of the secrets he’s revealed to you—that they resent you. No, don’t think to deny it. I know what he has done and said.” He took my hand and patted it gently. “They dislike you because they fear losing him when your time comes, as others who have loved mortals have done before. There used to be four in their little group, you know.”

I guessed by “they” he meant the gray man and the raver. I glanced over my shoulder at the latter, who stood by herself on the other side of the garden, scowling at me.