My Soul Immortal (34 page)

Vita is still calling the name when the Shadow lifts her high. It tosses her repeatedly. Each time, Vita whirls through the air, and each time, the creature catches her as if she’s no more than a rag doll. She retches and fights, but with each throw, the beast tears bits of her physical form away from her wicked soul. Bursts of bloody mist swirl within the creature’s black vaporous form. Pieces of flesh and bone turn to ash before hitting the floor. Soon, all that’s left of Vita are long wisps of connecting fibers—a withered spiderweb. The small mesh writhes in the dark being’s grip, trying to break free. Then those red eyes return to me.
This is it. This is the end.
Good-bye, my love.
I close my eyes and think of Leah, then a final convulsion drags me into nothingness.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Consciousness ushers me out of the numbness. My head throbs, and every one of my joints is on fire. Heaven shouldn’t feel this way. Pain isn’t supposed to be part of paradise. I blink, and my vision is blurry. Clarity fights against the jumbled thoughts swirling in my head. I concentrate on the first object that catches my attention—an unfocused orange splotch.
Flames
, I decide. Hell.

“Slowly, Jack, move slowly,” says a familiar voice. Somewhere in the befuddled haze, dots connect. Artagan. My fate is worse than hell, a thousand times worse. I’m alive, and I’ve failed again. Leah isn’t safe. She’s going to die, if she hasn’t already. Lydia… now Leah… I couldn’t save either of them.

Unable to drag a full breath into my lungs, I attempt to sit up, but my muscles revolt and lock me down. Pain shoots throughout my entire body. The room spins like a top.

“Slow, I said,” Artagan warns, his voice echoing and muffled.

“Leah.” I choke. My throat is raw, as if I’ve swallowed a vat of acid. With as much effort as I can muster, I thrust myself to my elbows, but hands restrain me. I’m too weak to fight and fall to the cold unforgiving stone.

Artagan surveys the panic in my eyes and purses his lips before answering. “She’s safe. No one can hurt her anymore. Now stay down!”

I shake my head feverishly. “The bargain,” I rasp, my voice thin, lacking substance.

“Listen to me—Leah’s alive. No bargain needed. The debt’s paid—life for a life. Besides, the council’s embarrassed.” He smiles. “They won’t push the matter. Vita broke one of their precious rules. Now stop moving. Let your body purge the poison from your system.”

“Poison?” I ask.

“I can’t believe Vita did this. Well, maybe I can,” Kemisi says from across the room.

My vision is clearing, and I shift my gaze toward the velvet tone. Kemisi sits cross-legged in one of the chairs.

Artagan looks at her from under his black brows, one hand still holding me down. “I knew she would. I counted on it. To send one of my descendants to Shadow Death was more than she could resist.”

Kemisi huffs.

“What’s done is done,” Artagan says with a shrug, and a wide grin spreads across his face.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

“Revenge,” Kemisi says with a loud expulsion of air.

“I’ve tried numerous times to kill her. For the last seventy-five years, I’ve played nice, hoping an opportunity would present itself,” Artagan says, his eyes trained on me.

“Vita didn’t give you hemlock tea,” says Kemisi.

“Would someone like to explain to me why I’m still here?” I ask.

Artagan gives a quick chuckle. “Because despite being a martyr to your regrets, you’re not guilty of any crimes, Jack, at least none in the immortal world.”

“How did you know the punishment would reverse?” Kemisi asks.

“The knowledge came in so-called myth. If you haven’t noticed, most myths and fairy tales are based on real-life events. In the cautionary tale, an immortal named Myron tried using a mixture of poisonous plants and his own blood to kill his friend Solon because Myron had a hard-on for Solon’s wife.”

Kemisi doesn’t seem bothered by Artagan’s choice of words. Maybe she’s accustomed to his vulgarity.

The grin plastered across Artagan’s face grows. “As expected, the tale didn’t end well for Myron, but the theory sounded plausible.”

“So, how did you know the poison would kill Vita instead of me? You tested your theory out on me. On Leah!” I grind my teeth, and my hands clench, then unclench, too weak to hold the tension very long.

Artagan rolls his eyes. “You were no one’s guinea pig. I sought out Solon and his wife, Pelagia. The search took close to a century, but I found them—still together, by the way. They confirmed the story wasn’t a fable and told me the plant Myron used.”

“And Leah?” I ask.

“Is untouchable.” A complacent tone clings to Artagan’s rich baritone voice.

“Explain,” I say, unconvinced.

“Leah is Vita’s descendant.”

Kemisi inhales.

My mind races, and I search his face for an explanation.

Artagan laughs. “Did you hear me, Jack?”

“Where’s Vita now?” I ask.

“She’s in Shadow Death—dead for all practical purposes. Her immortality was stripped from her and given to the next soul immortal in her line, a Miss Leah Winters.”

He waits while I grapple with his words. When my mind, still slowed by the toxin, begins to make sense of what Artagan is saying, my battered heart gives an enlivened lurch.

“Leah is immortal now?” I ask.

Artagan puffs out his chest. “Am I forgiven?”

Fear sweeps over me. “Oh, dear God, doesn’t that mean she’s on the council? Like you because of Brennus?”

“No, Vita had a favorite protégé: Serevo. Brennus’s choices were slim—only one, and a soul immortal to boot. Most members of the council have immortal protégés to pass their seat to, along with their particular knowledge. But from what I understand, Brennus’s protégé had passed away by means of an
accident
shortly before Brennus’s suicide. Convenient. Since then, the punishment for even looking crossed-eyed at another’s protégé is hefty—belladonna. No one wants another mishap like me, if they can help it.” He chuckles darkly. “If Domitilla lets the vendetta die with her sister, she’ll have no problem from me.”

“Serevo? That’s the name Vita said over and over again.”

“Yes, her immortal sidekick. She’s been training him for years. He’s ready for the responsibility.”

“Do you think he’ll carry on with Vita’s plan of revenge?”

“No. I’m fairly certain he won’t.”

“How do you know?”

He waves his hand, dismissing my question.

I look away, letting my gaze wander along the uneven walls of the cavern then back to Artagan. “Seems too good to be true. You’re sure this isn’t a dream?”

The back of Artagan’s hand collides with my cheek.

“Artagan!” Kemisi shouts.

The blow makes my ears ring, and I manage to raise my hand as far as my chin. “Ugh! What was that for?”

“You’re not dreaming. If you were, that would’ve definitely woken you up. Besides, I owed you one.” He smirks, pointing to his lip, then looks me square in the eye. “I understand why you doubt. You have every reason to, but I know with one hundred percent certainty that Leah is living and immortal.”

I want to believe Leah is alive and that he’s telling the truth. I wish I had that kind of faith in fate, or in people, but the possibility of happiness has been within my reach before, only to be snatched away.

Artagan must see the doubt in my eyes because he leans away, tapping his fingers against his lips, and his sigh is laced with frustration. Then a light flashes in his eyes. “Remember, she was mine to take. That craving is gone now. I can only think of two reasons why that would happen. One, she’s dead.”

I grit my teeth. “And the second?” I hiss.

“Her body is grounded to earth, like all immortals’.”

“And her soul?”

“Free to leave if her body were forced to release it. She’s no longer a soul immortal. She’s like us now. Like you.”

I observe Artagan for a long time, and I find nothing but sincerity in his eyes. No matter how much I know I should, I can’t doubt his words. An unencumbered smile breaks out across my face, and a sense of hope I’ve never known swells.

“I have to get to her,” I blurt and attempt to scramble to my feet, falling, then struggling again.

“Whoa. You can’t go anywhere, not just yet.” Artagan grabs my shoulder, pushing me down.

“You don’t understand. She’ll think I’m dead. Her brother was supposed to tell her good-bye for me. Grady knows what I was planning, and he’ll tell Leah.”

“Well, you’re not dead. She’ll have to wait a bit longer to get the happy news.”

“Wait, my phone.” I pat down my pockets. “Dammit! I left it at Grady’s.”

“Cell phones don’t work out here, and honestly, this might be the kind of news you want to tell in person.”

“How long?” I demand.

Artagan glances over at Kemisi. “What do you think?”

“Another hour, at least,” she answers with a touch of uncertainty in her voice.

“An hour! No way in hell,” I say, trying to stand again and finding my legs are still made of jelly.

Kemisi frowns. “Men are always so restless. This isn’t a choice, Jack. You physically aren’t going to be able to walk before then. I might be wrong, but I don’t think Artagan wants to give you a piggyback ride all the way to the station.”

Artagan grimaces, showing off all his pearly white teeth.

Kemisi hops to her feet. “I’ll go see if something might help to speed the process.”

“Look in my books. Anything with dandelion root should help,” Artagan says.

She nods then walks to the adjacent wall and straight through the shadow.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that,” I say, looking at Artagan. “So what the hell was that thing? The black mass?”

“They don’t call this place the Valley of the Shadow of Death for no reason. Everything has a shadow, even Death. The creature was judging you. Did you see how it tore Vita limb from limb? Exquisite! Better than sex… almost.” He laughs, rubbing his hands together. Artagan has fondness for the theatrical, to be sure. His growing excitement electrifies the air. “I can’t believe that bitch is finally dead. Serevo is the newest member of the council, and Leah is the recipient of Vita’s immortality. Everything’s as I planned.” He pauses, studying my face. “How are you feeling? You’re not pasty white anymore. A bit more color in your cheeks now.”

I push up into a sitting position but slump back to the hard earth. My head pounds, and again, the room spins. “I feel like I was hit by a Mack truck. What did Vita give me?”

“Belladonna mixed with three drops of immortal blood. The poisonous concoction summons the Immortal Judge—the Shadow of Death.” His voice turns solemn, almost reverent. “The creature judges if an immortal’s soul is culpable for a crime or not. One must be very careful. If the accused is found innocent, the judgment ricochets, returning to the accuser. When Vita brewed and presented the belladonna tea to you with full knowledge of what she was doing, she became your accuser.”

“Not something most of us knew,” Kemisi says, glaring at Artagan as she walks in with a mug of steaming liquid. “Otmar made tea for you. A blend of dandelion root, burdock, and milk thistle. Their properties should remove any toxins left in your body and help you recover faster.”

I shrink back from the mug.

Artagan takes the tea and puts the cup to his lips, taking a large gulp. He counts to ten and then props up my head. The room seems to tilt and wobble.

“Drink,” he says, putting the rim to my lips. “The tea’s safe.”

“Trust issues,” Kemisi mutters.

“Blame me?” Artagan smirks.

Kemisi shrugs then strolls to her seat and curls into the chair like a cat.

I scrutinize Artagan, who still seems in good health.

“Drink,” he says with a renewed grin. “Do you want to see Leah or not?”

I sip the hot liquid. Its sweetness makes my lips jump away from the cup. Artagan gives me another encouraging look. I drink again, taking a large gulp. The sweetness floods in, but a slightly bitter aftertaste follows, which calms my nerves. Warm needles prick my throat and trail the tea into my stomach. The sensation grows with every sip. Soon, I’m sitting without help and holding the mug on my own.

Finally, my limbs begin to move when and how they’re told, and the room anchors itself into one place. I endeavor to stand. My muscles and joints are stiff, and I teeter then pitch forward. Artagan grabs my elbow to steady me.

“Let’s go,” I demand.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

I stumble for the third time, falling hard to my knees on the soggy green earth.

“I think we should stop, give you a bit of a break,” Artagan says.

“Absolutely not. Leah’s lying in a hospital bed miles away, mourning me, and you want to take it easy?”

“Have it your way.” He yanks me up by my shirt collar.

Finally back in Achnasheen, I pace back and forth along the long platform. Artagan sits on a bench, one leg propped up on a knee, arms stretched along the backrest, watching me with an amused smile.

“Why don’t you have a seat?” he says.

“Can’t.”

He puffs on his cigarette and then removes the box from his pocket. “Have one. They’ll calm your nerves.”

I concede and spend the next minute coughing, hacking up a lung or two. “Why do you smoke these things?” I manage between coughs.

Artagan guffaws then shrugs.

The train’s headlight breaks through the mist before the train slows to a stop at the station.

The car Artagan selects is empty except for a dark-haired man sitting near the rear, reading a newspaper. Artagan lets out a loud huff when he sees the other man. Muttered curses follow. Tucking the weekly under his arm, the man stands. I study him.
Ordinary bloke.
Typical height, maybe a couple of inches shorter than I am. Unassuming build. His untidy, slicked-back hair touches the collar of his long black trench coat. Nothing about his features sticks out, until he looks my way. His eyes are the color of garnet. I shiver against the cold that grows deep inside me and expands as rivers of ice dart through my veins. The man gives me a warm, welcoming smile for half a second then shifts his piercing gaze to Artagan. Then he passes us without a word and steps from the train onto the platform.