Chapter 38

Several hours later, Rianna, Holly, Caleb, and I were in the Tongues for the Dead office, searching for any clue to where and in whom the rider may be. Holly had used her contacts in the DA’s office to get access to the missing persons database, but no one had been reported missing in the last twenty-four hours. I’d left at least four messages on Briar’s voice mail, but she hadn’t returned my calls, so I had no idea if she’d learned anything. Death had left to see what he could find through his own networks, which, when he eventually returned, he may or may not be able to share.

Introducing him to Holly and then Caleb had been interesting to say the least, especially when we got to the part of no, sorry, you can’t ask his name and no, you can’t ask what he does either. Awkward was an understatement. Though, watching Rianna’s reaction was rather entertaining as she’d seen Death before and knew exactly what he was. Roy was far less amused that I had a soul collector with me, but when I sent him to the OMIH office to eavesdrop and snoop, he was so happy to have what he called a real assignment that he let it slide.

“No, that’s okay. Have a nice day,” I said, and hit the END button on my phone. I scratched through the name and then stretched. “That was the last one on my list.”

Holly looked up. “You want some of mine?”

Yeah, no, not really. We’d spent the last hour and a half cold calling the OMIH employees listed on the local Web site. We were look looking for someone who hadn’t come home last night, but there were several problems with this plan, primarily that half the calls weren’t answered so had to be noted as question marks.

“Hey, girls,” Caleb called from where he worked at Ms. B’s desk. “I have good news and bad news. You might want to come here.”

Holly and I exchanged a glance, but as I stood, Roy popped into the room.

“I found him,” he said, vibrating with excitement. “His name is Martin Tanner and he’s a magical technician. He helped scan the room after Larid died, and soon after became ill.” Roy used finger quotes around the last word. “That’s got to be him, right?”

I’d bet on the chance.

I walked out into the lobby. “Roy might have found our guy. His name is—”

“Martin Tanner,” Caleb finished for me.

The ghost’s shoulders dropped. “Wow, way to steal my glory.”

I was more curious how Caleb had found out. He turned the screen of the laptop toward me and bumped the volume.

“Police say Tanner is considered armed and dangerous, so if you spot him, do not try to approach him. Instead, call the tip line at the bottom of the screen,” the news anchor said as a phone number flashed below him. The superimposed image of a middle-aged man with a cheap hair regrowth charm and thick framed glasses floated behind the anchor.

“Of all the idiotic, stupid things to do.” I pulled out my phone, and dialed the fourth number on my speed dial.

A gruff voice answered with, “If you’re calling to bitch, I was against it.” John sighed and I heard something hit the mouthpiece of the phone as if his knuckles brushed it as he rubbed his mustache. “No one in the squad room three nights ago would have okayed that press release.”

“Then who did?”

“The chief of police and that MCIB investigator thought it would chase the rider out of hiding.”

Briar Darque. Great. She sure kept me in the loop.

“Yeah, he’ll come out of hiding.” I stalked across the office. “By walking into traffic or in some other horrific way murdering his host so he can have a new body.” I knew John already realized that as well, but the anger bubbling in my blood refused to shut up. A warm arm wrapped around my waist, stopping me from stomping into my office. Death. “John, I’ve got to go,” I said, making a hasty good-bye.

“Anything?” I asked, looking at Death expectantly.

“It sounds like you know more than me.”

Damn. “It looks like our current victim, who is being smeared on the news as armed and dangerous, is a magic tech named Martin Tanner. Caleb, do they have a picture of him posted on their site?”

Caleb clicked a button and what was either a driver’s license or work ID photo—both tended to be equally bad—popped up of the mild-looking tech. Death frowned at the image but I thought I saw something akin to recognition pass through his eyes.

I dragged him into my office, shutting the door behind us. “You know him?”

“Alex, I have a lot of souls, most of whom don’t come close enough to dying that I’m called to them more than a couple of times during their life.” He leaned against the edge of my desk, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

“But you think you recognize him.”

He lifted one shoulder in a half shrug that could have meant anything. “Even if he is one of mine, it’s not like I’m omnipresent. I can’t find him out of thousands any easier than you can, not until I’m called.”

“You always find me.”

That earned me a grin, and he reached out, pulling me closer. “I keep an eye on you.” His hands ran down my waist until his thumbs rubbed over the ridges of my hip bones. “Besides, you are easy to find.” The words were low, his mouth temptingly close to mine.

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.