Eerie (40 page)

Fin pivoted and lunged at the Envoy.

“You listen—”

Asher grabbed his neck and squeezed. “Cobon obscures my vision, Pádraig. He may already have her, where is she?” Asher repeated, his eyes a volcanic fury. He eased his grip enough for Fin to speak.

“I just saw her leaving Eureka—five minutes ago,” he croaked, his voice partially strangled. “She had her books, library?”

Asher tossed Fin to the floor and spun around.

“I'm going to tell her the truth, Asher!” Fin shouted as soon as he caught his breath, and Asher turned back scowling hatefully.

“You will tell her nothing, slave,” he said slowly.

“Suck it, Asher. I won't miss another second of her life.” He said it with conviction, because he
wanted
it to be true. He
wanted
to stay with her forever. But Asher would never allow it. He'd destroy her, and Fin's heart would turn inside out. He'd die a thousand deaths if he ever did something to hurt her again. No, this was the end for him. He couldn't bear to face another dawn without her. He knew what he wanted. An end. And Asher was the only one that could provide it.

“You delay me with your misplaced defiance when her very life is at risk. And you will tell her nothing!”

It was working. He was angry. Maybe even furious. Fin shook his head.

“I'm going to tell her the truth,” he repeated, his voice weary, defeated.

“Wrong answer,
Fin
.” Asher grabbed him up by his neck again.

“What are you going to do, Asher? Kill me?”

He tried to hide the hope in his voice as he egged the Envoy on.

“Oh, I can do far worse than kill you . . .”

Matthew the book worm did his best to fetch Hailey some helpful references from the stacks, but honestly, he was so gorged with tea, he moved more like Jabba the Hutt than a zinging inchworm, and it took him ten minutes to return with
The Banshee's Guide to Handling a Soul
, which read like cell phone instructions.

Hailey slammed it shut. While she waited for Giselle, she returned to straightening and smoothing her crinkled notes. As she made her way through the pile, something strange caught her eye. There among the mound of windblown pages, she found a handwritten note. She recognized the print immediately . . .the phrases . . .the metaphor . . .
Oh my God!

This lonely soul by solitude stalked,

whose Sandman's sand makes said what's not

what God knows. And now it's got

your Rose, a fool, in deception locked.

Who else but me would make this hell?

Who else but you could break this spell?

Hailey clutched her stomach.
The rose . . .the lonely soul . . .the weeping cesspool . . .
She gasped.
Hopes greatest fool!
Fin wasn't insulting her—he was trying to talk to her—to tell her in a code that only she would know—a code he'd used before—it wasn't Asher who'd carried her home from Holly's grave. It was Fin! He was begging for help!

Realization hit her like a freight train.
The rose . . . The sketch of her at Holly's grave . . .
All this time he was trying to tell her, and all this time, she was too stupid to get it.

She had to find him.

She pushed back from the table, but when she stood, her legs buckled, and she fell back into her chair. The room went black. Her breath caught in her throat; her ears filled with muffled silence. And she was falling, through the chair, through the floor, flailing her arms at the nothingness in desperation, anticipating—no dreading—the impact.

Then with a whole-body quake, she woke, and she was watching Asher and Fin from the shadows of Fin's room again—just like she had in her premonition dream, only there was no haze, no mistaking the words they exchanged.

“Did it ever occur to you in all your cerebral-ness that Cobon lied to get you to do exactly what you're doing? To kill Hailey?” said Fin.

“Hailey belongs to me. I will do what I please to her.”

Hailey's heart stopped. He sounded so cold.

“We had an agreement, Asher, don't you remember? Hailey will choose who she wants to be with, and we will respect her choice,” he said firmly, but Asher was unmoved.

“I love her,” he told the Envoy. “And she loves me.”

Hailey's breath caught.

“You think you love her, but you do not. Cobon uses you, Pádraig. You will drive her into despair, and you will destroy her.”

“No,” Fin said firmly. “Nobody is controlling me, Asher, I'm free.”

Asher stepped toward him, a furious storm swirling in his eyes as they traced a path through the distance. “You will always be our slave,” he concluded. “Forever was the deal your parents made with Adalwolf, and forever you will obey.”

“I'm not a slave to the Envoys anymore, Asher,” Fin said irritably.

“Are you so sure?”

Fin took a swing at him, but Asher caught his fist and held it.

“Perhaps you'd like to live this life with one hand,” he said, and he squeezed Fin's fist until it collapsed with a sickening crunch.

Fin howled and fell to his knees.

“That's more like it,” said Asher coolly, and Fin's mutilated hand turned to dust in his grip. Asher brushed his hands together, and Fin gnashed his teeth.

“I won't do it!” Fin cried out.

“Perhaps I'll take your arm, then. You won't heal from this, you know.” Asher's voice was menacing, hateful, even.

He snatched him up by his arm and cremated that as well.

“Go to hell!” Fin yelled, as he pushed himself to his feet. Squaring up with Asher, he spit in the Envoy's face.

Asher's eyes exploded. Grabbing Fin by the neck with one hand, he seized him by his manhood with the other.

“Shall I take something more valuable?” he threatened, and Fin squeezed his eyes shut.

“Tear me limb from limb, Asher. I love her, and I won't hurt her.”

Asher released him and tilted his head as Fin surveyed his shoulder stump.

“I've gone mad,” said Asher suddenly.

“I know,” Fin panted.

“If I cannot have her, I will destroy her,” Asher said with pain in his voice. “I cannot control my rage.” His admission sounded more like a plea. His eyes darkened, and quite suddenly, he grabbed Fin up by his neck again.

“I once saved you from an eternity in Hell, Pádraig O'Shea. It's time for you to repay your debt to me.”

Asher raised Fin higher and plunged his hand through his chest.

Fin struggled to breathe.

“Is this the fate you want for her? You would drive me to rip her apart, to shred her soul, to slash and tear until there is nothing left of the woman we both love?”

“She'd—destroy—you,” Fin grunted.

Asher squeezed Fin's neck until it cracked and tossed him to the floor.

“No, Pádraig,” Asher said while he waited for Fin to heal. “We both know what destroyed Adalwolf. It was a confluence of impossibilities, a cosmic accident when he exploded. And you can't make it happen again, or I'd already be dead, Righteous Man.”

Fin's neck cracked back together, and he rolled onto his side.

“We can do this all night,” Asher said grinding his teeth, and he grabbed Fin up by his neck again. “I would do worse to her!”

“Alright I'll do it!” Fin shouted. “I'll do it,” he moaned, resigned.

Asher released him and stepped away.

“She'll know you did this,” Fin panted nodding to his missing limb, and Asher surveyed his one-armed slave.

“On your knees, Pádraig,” said Asher gently, and Fin obliged, his face etched with shame.

Asher placed his hand on Fin's back and watched as an arm grew perfectly out of his shoulder.

“Make it public, Fin, and make it hurt,” Asher said, turning to leave. “I'll be watching.”

“Wait,” Fin said.

Asher stopped and looked back.

“If you cared about her, you wouldn't force me to hurt her.”

His eyes searched Asher's for a flicker of compassion.

“I will comfort her. I will protect her from Cobon,” the Envoy reasoned.

“Can you protect her from yourself?”

“And what would you do?” he spat. “How would you save her light, human?”

“With my dying breath, Asher. I would die or spend an eternity in agony before I hurt her.”

“Then you're a better man than I, Pádraig the Defiant.”

Chapter Forty-One

To Die, but Only Temporarily

“It requires more courage to suffer than to die.”

- Napoleon

Hailey blinked hard as Giselle's voice faded in to her ears.

“ . . .but you're not going to find anything helpful in a library, and I already read these magazines the last time you dragged me in here, so how much longer do you want to stay in this pulverized-tree crypt?”

Hailey finally focused on Giselle. She was holding
The Banshee's Guide to Handling a Soul
in one hand and pointing to the magazine rack with the other.

“What's the matter with you? Did you just have a vision?”

“I did!” She shot out of her chair. “Oh my God, Giselle, I have to find Fin!”

Hailey swayed shakily, leaned against the table to steady herself, and straightened to leave, but an explosion in the reference section threw her back into her chair.

Matthew, who had been snoring peacefully next to Hailey's desk, was thrown toward Mysteries, and Hailey scrambled to her feet only to find herself face-to-face with Cobon's rotten sneer.

Staggering back, she bumped into Giselle, who grabbed her arm and shoved her aside, wedging herself protectively between her and Cobon.

“What's this?” Cobon laughed. “Do you mean to protect the human? You? A demon abomination?” Cobon tossed his head back and cackled. Then without warning, he backhanded Giselle across the face, sending her careening across the room until her body slammed limp against the stone wall and crumpled to the floor.

“No!” Hailey screamed, and she lunged toward her roommate.

Cobon grasped her by the hair and jerked her back, flinging her against a bookcase, which he then toppled over on top of her. All six hundred and eighty-seven books, which Hailey had meticulously counted, thundered down, thumping her head and neck and back. She scrambled as fast as she could against the onslaught, but when the heavy oaken shelf crashed down, it smashed her legs above the knee into the cold marble floor.

She couldn't force air to scream.

Cobon grabbed Giselle up by the neck and held her high.

“My work here could be done,” he said over his shoulder to Hailey. “But I'd much rather stay until you expire completely, my dear, you're losing blood at a fatal rate, did you know? If you can speak, please tell me why you care about this one—I'm curious—she's an abomination, which I should happily rid from this wretched planet.”

“No,” Hailey gasped. “Don't—” Pain stole her breath.

Cobon poised his hand over Giselle's chest, and then he turned, smiled, and winked.

“Ah, Hailey . . .” He shook his head, clicking his tongue in disapproval. “Quite a spirit you have. Imagine my disappointment when Asher told me you were reconsidering our little arrangement. No matter, we don't need Asher, do we? He's had second thoughts as well and is no doubt right behind me, so I'll be quick. Embrace your fate, my dear. Your death is only temporary. And I'll spare this demon. What do you say?” He plunged his hand through Giselle's chest, and she let out a guttural, agonizing screech.

Hailey's mind fogged with pain and desperation.
Six hundred and eighty-seven
. She frantically focused on her consciousness. If she passed out, she'd die—or he'd kill her—he'd kill Giselle for sure—no, she had to stay awake—keep him talking, figure something out. She knew she'd never killed an Envoy, but Cobon didn't. Maybe she could scare him. But how?

Six hundred and eighty-seven
. It kept intruding—rattling in her head—she'd shelved these books, which now buried her—all six hundred and eighty-seven of them. That number. And Tomas was wringing his hands in the polished marbled floor next to her, worrying over her.

Tomas—the ghost trap—the frequency Asher abhorred—690 Hertz—it was too annoyingly close to—

Mrs. Spitz is clairvoyant!

In all her frenzied anguish, it made her giggle.

“Six hundred and eighty-seven,” she sputtered, and Giselle nodded, her eyes determined.

The banshee opened her mouth and let out a howl that made Hailey's ears bleed. The library windows shattered. Hailey squinted against the noise.

Cobon dropped Giselle and slammed his hands against his ears. He kicked the wailing banshee against another bookcase with such force, it fell over on her, and then he bolted.

Finally the commotion stopped and Hailey scanned the area, finding the overturned shelf where Giselle had been.

“Giselle?” she cried frantically. “Are you alright? Giselle . . .”

A low moan rose from the rubble, and Hailey held her breath. “Giselle?” she breathed hesitantly.

A hand emerged in a loose fist, which stretched toward the ceiling. Very slowly, she raised her middle finger.

“You're alive,” Hailey breathed. She was never so happy to be flipped off. “I'm stuck under this shelf,” she added and laughed painfully.

“I really hate libraries,” Giselle muttered flatly as she struggled out of the pile. “How did you know Cobon's death frequency?”

“What? I didn't.” Hailey blinked back the darkness. Was she making sense?

Giselle froze. “You didn't? You told me to wail his death frequency. It made him think he was going to die. How did you know his death frequency?”

“That was . . .” she breathed. “ . . .the number of books on each of these shelves.”

Thank you, Mrs. Spitz!

Hailey wanted to laugh, but realizing the gravity of her injuries, thought better of it.

“Giselle,” she moaned urgently, pushing away the darkness that eclipsed her periphery. “Can you call an ambulance? I think I'm hurt.”

“You're under a bookcase, bozo,” Giselle noted as she scrambled across the books toward Hailey. “You're probably crushed.”

“It's on my legs,” Hailey breathed, feeling nauseous.

Giselle pulled several books off of Hailey, tossing them this way and that until she'd uncovered her enough to assess the situation. She grabbed the bookcase and heaved, but she might as well have been trying to lift the pavement off a road. The bookcase didn't budge.

“Hailey!” Giselle barked. “Wake up!”

“Still here,” Hailey responded.

“Shit,” she grunted. “It's too heavy for me.” Then she rested her hand gingerly on Hailey's back. “Do you want me to wail for you?”

“No!”
Was she kidding?

“Fine. I've got to go and get some help, then.” Giselle's voice dripped with worry.

“Okay,” Hailey bleated, trying not to think of dying alone.

“Before I go, guess what?”

“What Giselle?!”

“I still have my soul,” she smiled. “Cobon grabbed it—you know, if I leave you, you might die alone.” She was stalling. She actually was worried, and that worried Hailey.

“Giselle!” she huffed. “Go!”

“Alright,” she said. “Just don't die, okay?”
Wow. She really cared.

“Okay,” Hailey breathed, and Giselle sprinted away.

Shortly after she left, Mrs. Spritz strolled over, paused in front of Hailey with her hands on her hips, and shook her head in disgust before she continued on her way, calling over her shoulder as she strode off, “The three of you will clean this up, Hail . . .” Her muffled voice faded, and darkness pushed Hailey's eyes shut.

“You're badly wounded, my dear. Do you want me to heal you?” Asher's voice pierced her mind.

Was he really there? Did he really have to ask? That was exactly what she wanted.

“Yes . . .heal . . .” she moaned painfully, her voice barely a whisper.

Her eyes half-open, she watched Asher touch the bookcase, which instantly turned to ash and crumbled with a puff into nothing. She didn't feel any weight lift. She didn't feel anything except the muffled darkness poised over her head, ready to drop like a guillotine.

Kneeling beside her, he placed his hands on her back.

“You're close to death,” he told her in his velvety soft voice.

With one swift tug, he pulled her out from the pile of—she couldn't remember how many books anymore—and into his lap, cradling her gently against his chest.

“It's time, Hailey.”

Time for what? Was he going to pull her soul out? Or . . .
Her breath came in labored hitches.
Oh, no . . .he's letting me die . . .no, no, no, not yet. I have to see him . . .

“Fin . . .?” That's all she could manage. His was the only face she wanted to see. Where was he?

Asher stroked Hailey's cheek and pressed his thumb against her lips.

“Shhh. Hush Hailey,” he murmured. “Don't be afraid. You know what's happening. You'll live again. I cannot stop this.” As he gazed lovingly at her, a single, iridescent tear ran down his face. He drew a breath, and his expression hardened into one of focused determination.

He's letting me die.

Comprehension hit her like a toppled bookcase. This man—no, this monster—his was the last face she'd ever see. The last voice she'd ever hear. She didn't want him touching her. He'd taken from her the one person she always wanted when she was scared—forced him away—forced him to hurt her. Asher was a monster. And she hated him—for taking Fin, for watching her die when he had the power to save her...

Darkness crumbled around her.
Count to eight
, she recalled Fin's soothing voice, and she held her breath. Then she looked up at the Envoy. Despite her anger, she was glad she wasn't alone. As monstrous as he was, he comforted her, and she let him. She convulsed once and fought the permanent night that pushed through her mind. She was so tired. So cold.

Still holding her breath, she turned her thoughts to Holly. Would she be waiting for her on the other side? Had she been this cold when she died? She fixed an image of her smiling sister into her mind's eyes and waited.

She shivered once more and stilled.

Asher rested his hand on her cheek, and kissed her gently.

“I'll see you soon,” he whispered to her ear, his words echoing into a lifeless hush. And then, the light left her, the air left her—it was the long exhale.

Asher pushed his hand through her chest, poising it expectantly over her soul. Patiently he waited to catch it as she expired in his arms.
She
—his beautiful girl, lying motionless, helpless in his lap as his love for her mixed with rage.

She'd cried out for him—that wretched, defiant human. Even so, he would still rescue her, still heal her beautiful, broken body. And now that he'd removed his defiant challenger, he would court his love without Pádraig's constant interference. And Hailey would finally be his—only his.

And Cobon . . .Cobon had
harmed
his girl, but he'd deal with him later. Right now, his focus was singular—protect Hailey. He would shield her from death, rebind her soul.

She was looking up at him with the primal fear of impending death. He knew that look. It wouldn't be long. Cobon's attack had left her at death's door. It might've been a blessing, really, sparing her the searing pain of a pulled soul. Now, he need only wait a few moments longer, and her soul would free itself—shed its Earthly body, and when it did, Asher need only grasp it and rebind it.

She shuddered once. She was holding her last breath, clinging to life, and he could see the desperate fear in her eyes fade into death's infinite stare.

Her soul loosened itself, and he clutched its gorgeous luminescence, gently pulling it away from her lovely, limp body, which lay like a rag doll in his lap. With his free hand, he pulled the stone from his pocket and watched as it glowed and pulsated an ever more intense and bright purple. He launched it a safe distance through the broken window and quickly returned her soul to its home, gathering the binding energies from the universe to fix it in place. At the same time, he rebuilt her broken body, readied it for life, which lit her eyes in an Aethereal lilac. As life returned and colored her cheeks, she drew a hitching breath, her eyes finding their focus on his.