The Beckoning of Bravelicious Things (The Beckoning Series Book 3) Page 23

  River must be boiling their blood, as anguished screams fill the air, accompanied by this weird, coppery smell that reminds me of touring a sausage factory when I was a child. He lets out an unearthly roar as he does this.

  I spin around to see steaming bodies, some blown apart by their boiled insides, hot, coagulated blood spattered far and wide. Others lay with their heads askew in unnatural positions. Nothing could have prepared me for this scene. It’s an unholy, freakish landscape. A stench spews from males with their bellies split open, the festering odor of undigested food mixing with the tang of blood, bile, and vomit.

  Maimers, Decayers, Shredders, Maligners, and other demons scramble free from their underworld environ, hell bent on consuming the dead. They crunch bones, tear flesh, growl, snarl, and add to the grotesque bloodbath before me.

  I’ve got no time for taking in the view, however.

  The guy known as Morton must be the more powerful of the bunch. He splays his fingers and sends fiber-like filaments in Daniel’s direction.

  “Think I don’t know what those are?” Daniel says in a vicious, mocking tone. “I use them to muzzle my pets.” He pulls back on the reins of the Annihilator who opens his maw of a mouth and snaps through the filaments like wisps of cotton candy. The beast snaps at Morton with razor sharp fangs.

  Morton lets loose with another barrage of magic as two precisely aimed, larger filaments coil around the Annihilator’s back legs, making him buckle and fall. The creature crashes to the ground, taking Daniel with him.

  “Daniel,” I scream, racing to help.

  The Annihilator struggles to his feet, angry, unleashing an unearthly roar of pain, falling again, crushing Daniel’s legs in the process. The demon manages to get up and lunges for Morton, teeth bared.

  Morton falls and rolls away, his pants catching on a long fang while I run to my soul bound lover.

  “Daniel,” I say, when I’ve reached his side. “How badly are you hurt?”

  Morton tears his pants free of the beast’s toothy grip and attempts a spell cast against the creature.

  The fiery sparks bounce from the Annihilator’s leathery, armored skin. It lunges once more, mouth stretched wide.

  “I can deal,” he says through clenched teeth. “Help me up.”

  “No, you’ve got to…”

  “Don’t argue. I said, help me up,” he snarls.

  Morton hurls a firebomb at us. He’s still dodging the demon so his aim is poor. He misses us by a mile.

  My mouth clamps shut and I reach for Daniel, placing an arm around his waist to steady him as he rises to standing. “You’re pale.”

  “I’m fine,” he says through gritted teeth. He staggers toward Morton, dragging me with him.

  Morton’s still got his attention on the demon, which clearly sees him as a tasty snack. The sorcerer’s flinging spells at the beast haphazardly, now, trying everything in his arsenal.

  The Annihilator charges toward him, unfazed.

  “Let’s end this,” Daniel says, his voice laced with pain. “And get on with the journey.”

  “What do you need from me?”

  “You’re doing fine,” he says, using me as support. Leaning on me, he raises his hand, slicing the air and making the ground open wide underneath the Annihilator and Morton.

  Beast and human fall into the bowels of the Earth, their cries silenced as Daniel seals it shut with a snap. “That will keep the demon happy for a while. He got a bellyful in Somalia. This is dessert.”

  “Somalia?”

  “Long story. Let’s deal with my father and get out of here.” He pivots, spies his dad being wheeled away from us by his burly companion, and prepares to do the same Earth-splitting thing he did to Morton.

  “No!”

  “What do you mean, no?” Daniel asks.

  “I have to do this,” I say, tugging his arm down.

  “Suit yourself. What do you have in mind?”

  Inwardly, I cringe. “I’ll explain later.”

  Daniel’s face bunches in puzzlement. “Okay,” he says guardedly. “Do your thing. I’ll gather the demons and send them back to Hell.”

  I whistle for Sober, who looks up, finds me, and flutter gallops in my direction.

  He flings himself at Daniel, plastering face licks all over my soul bound lover’s face. “Yeah, I missed you, too,” Daniel says, giving in to canine love for a moment, then pushes him away. “Go! Help Marissa.” He turns to me and says, “Make this count. This could be your last chance to end him once and for all.”

  I paste a fake smile on my face and nod, turning swiftly so he doesn’t see the lie in my eyes.

  I dash toward Armando and his assistant. Sober easily catches up to me. His jowls and chest are covered with blood, making him look demonic. “Sheesh, mutt, you need a bath,” I say, through labored breaths.

  “Hurry,” Armando says, waving his one good arm. “Get me out of here.”

  “Easy for you to say, you piece of shit,” the hefty woman shouts. “I’m demanding time and a half.”

  “Didn’t you hear me say I’m broke?” Armando says, letting out a wicked laugh.

  The woman stops, giving the wheelchair a shove. “I thought you were joking. You were telling the truth?”

  The chair wobbles along the uneven terrain and comes to a stop. “Get over here and start pushing, you bitch.”

  “Push yourself. I quit.” She stomps away from him, clearly infuriated.

  “Don’t forget, you don’t know how to get out of here,” Armando calls.

  “It’s better than pushing your hairy ass,” she hisses. “I’ll take my chances.”

  Teeth bared, Sober prepares to launch into attack, taking Armando down.

  “To heel!” I command. “To heel!”

  “Want to do this yourself? Fitting. You’ve got me fair and square. I’m helpless.” Armando shrugs one shoulder. His other arm lays limp in his lap.

  I glare at him. I can’t believe I’m going to do this, I think, clenching my jaw.

  Sober sits by my side, panting, watching me for a command.

  “You’re such a pretty thing. I wish it hadn’t turned out this way,” he says, pathetic remorse coloring his features.

  “And what way could it have turned out differently?” I spit out the words. “A happy ever after with me, Daniel, and you as my loving father-in-law?”

  “Not exactly.” He lets out a cold laugh. “More like you join forces with me against my son.”

  “And why would I do that?”

  “You were wronged. He bound your soul against your wishes,” he says slyly.

  “You did that to your wife and look what happened.” I gesture to his paralyzed body. “You’re a cripple and you have no wife. Besides, your son and I have moved beyond that. We’ve worked things out. I no longer hold a grudge. I’ve realized it was a mutual binding.”

  “I see.” Armando flinches, pales, quickly recovers. He takes a deep breath. “Get this over with and stop taunting me, Light Rebel.”

  I wish I could. I want nothing more than to renege on my promise to Mason and kill the bastard before me. What’s one more dead body when my karmic count is well over one hundred souls? “Goddamn it, anyway,” I snarl. I march over to Armando, take his head in my hands, and let power flow through my veins.

  “Make it quick, dear one.”

  “I’m not your dear anything,” I growl.

  “Well, be merciful.”

  “You don’t deserve mercy.” I close my eyes, grind my teeth together, and picture Armando as he used to be, fully healed, body solid and lithe.

  He gives a cry of alarm, and then looks at me, eyes wide, bewildered, as he realizes what’s happening. “You merciful, merciful angel,” he says. He flexes his arm. “I can…it can…I’m no longer crippled!” He extends both legs. “They work!” He stands, reaching for me, prepared to do God knows what. Kiss me? Give me a big old hug?

  “Get away from me.” I slap his hands away, suddenly exha
usted.

  “Let me see if I have my power back,” Armando says, looking like a delighted child. He holds up his hands and wills trees to fall on distant hills. “It’s back! Sweet devils, it’s back!”

  I tune into the sound of my dog, panting, swallowing and panting more. I notice that it’s grown incredibly quiet. A groan here, a moan there, but for the most part, the slaughter is over. I lift my head and my eyes meet Daniel’s, looking perhaps more betrayed than I’ve ever seen him. Rafe and River stare at me, too. I feel shunned from my tribe. If anyone’s betrayed, it’s me against myself.

  I turn to the man responsible for all of this. “You’re coming with me, jackass.”

  “What? Where?” His face turns vicious. “No! I won’t go anywhere with you. This is a trap.”

  “Just paying off your debts,” I say. Fatigue filling every vein, every muscle, every cell in my body, I bring up the dregs of simmering power in my system, visualize restraints, and swiftly bind Armando’s hands and feet.

  He topples to the ground, cursing and swearing.

  For good measure, I add a gag. I don’t need to listen to his whining on the journey ahead. I grab the end of the restraint, toss it over my shoulder, and drag Armando behind me, like any good bounty hunter would do. Only thing is, my bounty merely consisted of a few good meals. I’m such an idiot. The force of my electricity sputters and extinguishes, along with my heart. I drag my feet as I make my way back into the forest, heading for Mason’s domain.

  “Marissa!” Rafe calls. “You’re going the wrong way!”

  I lift a hand dismissively, making my lonely way back to fulfill my obligations. “I know where I’m going,” I call back. I also know I’ll never get Daniel to understand.

  Chapter 29

  I’d hoped the three men would run after me, pledging their undying love—that was on the first mile of the trek. During the second mile, I thought maybe they’d gotten lost since they didn’t know where I was headed. Right—those powerful, magical alpha males couldn’t scent me, track me, know my every move? Not hardly. They know exactly where I am.

  When I get to the place where I have to let go of sound and color, moving into rattlesnake beige, I pause, dropping the restraint, and plop my butt on a big rock. “I’m doing all this for some food,” I say, looking scornfully at Armando. I kick him with the toe of my leather boot. “Which is nearly gone. All so I could drag your sorry ass through the woods.”

  He mumbles something through the gag.

  “What’s that? I missed what you said. Speak clearly. Or better yet, stop talking.” I reach into the backpack, rummage around, and retrieve a few condensed, magic infused pieces of buffalo jerky. The magic gives them a kicker boost of energy. The buffalo is pure protein. I tear a mouthful off and chew, savoring the spices and smoky flavor. Mason’s chef really knows his stuff.

  Sober wanders up to me and sits, looking at me expectantly, his tongue lolling out of his mouth. We both washed in a creek a mile back so he looks like my dog again, not some horrifying, wild-eyed, blood soaked Demon Slayer. I grab another piece and break it into bite-sized strips. “You did a good job today,” I tell him, tossing him some jerky. “I couldn’t have done it without you. You’re the best dog, ever.”

  He snaps the pieces of jerky, one by one, gobbling them down.

  I rummage around in my bag for the portable dog bowl Mason gave me, retrieve a leather bota bag of water, unscrew the lid, and pour some into the bowl. “Here you go.”

  Sober laps it up.

  I feel like a bona fide badass. A lonely badass, but a badass nonetheless. When I was in full power mode, I felt unstoppable, invincible…I was the Woman, a Light Rebel extraordinaire. Funny how heartbreak and betrayal quash those feelings in a jiffy, making me feel like a wretch. I can’t help but wonder if emotional catastrophes like this led to the man lying in the dirt at my feet. I lean back, open wide, and squirt water from the large tear-shaped wineskin into my mouth.

  Armando mumbles and writhes on the ground.

  “What, you thirsty? Hungry? So I have to heal you and give you my food and water?” I shake my head, purse my lips, and look away. You’re going to feed him, Engles, aren’t you? I chide myself. Sometimes I wish I weren’t so compassionate.

  I visualize the gag away.

  He stretches his jaw, opening and closing his mouth. “Thank you,” he croaks. “You really are a good woman.”

  “Save the praise. I don’t want to hear it from you. You may have won but I still despise you.”

  “How’s that?” His voice emerges ragged and hoarse.

  “That I despise you?”

  “That I may have won.”

  “You may have cost me my relationship with your son. He’s pissed at me.”

  Glimmers of emotion flicker on his face.

  I study him. Is he happy? Hopeful? Pleased? I shake my head and turn away from him. I can’t stand to look at him. I pick up one of the smaller pieces of jerky and toss it into his mouth.

  “He’ll get over it.” He chews and swallows, almost as quickly as my dog. “More, please.”

  “I doubt that. He seemed pretty pissed.” I glare at him, pick up another tiny piece, and flick it his way. It misses his mouth and he has to retrieve it out of the dirt with his tongue.

  “You’re despicable, you know that?” I ask.

  “I may well be. But, as hard as it is to admit, I now owe you,” he croaks. “Water, please.”

  I brighten at hearing his words. “You owe me?” I hold the flask over his mouth, give it a short squeeze, then stop. “I rather like that.” I give myself another good swallow before screwing the lid back on.

  “It’s a Numina code of honor thing.”

  “Hmm. You don’t seem to have any honor.”

  Armando gives me a dark look. “I keep my promises.”

  I scoff. “Puh-lease. Which ones? Wait—don’t answer. I think I know—not a one.”

  “I’m a man of my word.”

  “How can you say that?”

  He doesn’t answer.

  “Okay, I’ll give. How will that serve me in the long run?”

  “You have a favor to call in,” he says.

  “Like calling in a marker? Cool. You’d better not renege.” I’m definitely filing this bit of knowledge. I almost…almost…smile. I stand, stretch, and pack my backpack, ready to get on our way. I want to get this over with. “Ready?”

  “I’d rather you’d let me walk.”

  “Well, that ain’t happening.” I quickly visualize the gag in place and pick up the end of his bindings. Sober stands, shakes, looks alert. A rustling in the underbrush catches my ear and I cock my head. Without thinking, I draw my sword. “Who’s there?”

  Armando’s hefty assistant steps out of the bushes, hands raised in the air. She looks a fright. Dirty, disheveled, scared and hungry. “Don’t hurt me,” she says.

  I put my sword down, shaking my head in disgust. “Great. What do you want?”

  “It’s…it’s weird here…scary…I met a man called…something like the Shadow Numen? Does that sound right?”

  I scoff. “Yeah, that’s his name.”

  She shudders, her skin growing pasty white.

  “He’s a scary one,” I say agreeably. “Best to keep a wide berth.”

  “He…he…he had all these shadows from…he told me…he…Oh, sweet mother, he told me he harvests souls!” The sturdy linebacker of a woman lets out a sob. “So I…I…I need protection.”

  “And you think I’m going to protect you? You brought him here.” I jab my finger toward Armando. “And I’m not for hire.”

  “I’ll help you. Whatever you’re going to do with him. I can carry him. I’m strong.”

  “I see that.” I eye her up and down. “He is growing burdensome.” I consider her request, quietly scanning her energy. “You’d better not try anything. You’ve got kids to raise. And, I don’t know what you saw, but I can be deadly.”

  She swallows, nods. �
�I’ll do whatever you want. Whatever you say.”

  I toss the end of the restraint to her. “Knock yourself out. And be prepared. We’re about to enter a freakish world.”

  “This whole place is freakish,” she says, looking around nervously. “I had no idea a place like this existed. All I want to do is get out of here and get back to normalcy.”

  “What, you think taking care of this jackass is normal?” Without waiting for an answer, I spin on my heel and begin the trek to the stone dweller’s domain. “Get in front of me—not so close you obstruct my view. I need to keep an easy eye on you,” I call over my shoulder.

  She trots in front of me, cradling Armando like a baby.

  Wow. “You have a name?” I call to her when she’s several yards in front of me.

  “It’s Margaret…Mary for short.”

  “Well, Mary, my name’s Marissa Engles.” I glance at the depressing landscape ahead. “Get ready for the strangeness.”

  In a few minutes, we’re traipsing over stone and gravel, not making a sound in this bizarre place. We have to climb over rocks, skitter across boulders, slide down short dirt and gravel covered inclines. Mary moves through the landscape stoically, without comment, strong as an ox. Her face—a not unpleasant looking face—seems grim, determined and focused. When she needs both hands to ascend, she places Armando gently on a rock, makes her climb, then retrieves him. For someone who calls him unflattering, angry names, she actually seems to care. People and their choices. I shake my head.

  A few miles into our hike, I call out, “Let’s take a short rest. I’d like to get to the top by nightfall. We have a couple days journey ahead.”

  She nods, plunks Armando on a boulder, and settles next to him.

  I make my way to a rock near her and settle in.

  “Armando probably needs to relieve himself. I can take care of it if you like.”

  “Ew. Whatever. You can’t leave my sight, though.” I cock my head, studying her. “You seem trained to care for people. You a nurse?”

  “I did a tour of duty in the Army. I met and married my husband there. He got caught by a mine. Shrapnel embedded itself in his back, hips, and shoulders. He can’t walk now. He gave me two fine babies and I feel it’s my duty to take care of him. It’s easy to take care of this piece of shit, too.” She pokes a thumb toward Armando.