Kelley Armstrong - The Reckoning

Tori would die and I wouldn’t be far behind. And what about Simon? And Derek? I wiped away the tears and sat up. I had two choices: escape or accept my fate. I wasn’t accepting it. Not now, not ever.

I took stock of my surroundings and what I could use. As for the room, nothing had changed. As for me, all I had were the clothes I wore-the new shirt and my jeans, still stained with Andrew’s blood. I tried not to think about that.

I patted my pockets, hoping for my ever-present switchblade. Gone.

One pocket crackled, though. Paper. I tugged it out and unfolded it. When I remembered it was the picture Simon had made for Derek, I started to refold it, but I’d already seen what he’d drawn-a sketch of me, crouching beside a black wolf, my arm around its neck, and I remembered Simon saying “Give him that. And tell him it’s okay.”

My eyes stung. I shakily refolded the message, and tucked it back into my pocket. Then I straightened and gave my head a sharp shake. I still had one very big trick up my sleeve. I pulled my legs up onto the bed, closed my eyes, and called the demi-demon.

I’d barely finished summoning her when warm air tickled the top of my head.

“Well,” whispered her tinkling voice, “this looks very familiar.”

“I need your help.”

“Now that’s new. And quite welcome, I might add. The first thing you need to do is free me. Then we’ll rain down hell on all who have wronged us.”

“I’ll free you after you help me. And we’ll skip the raining-down-hell part.”

“Oh, but it’s so much fun. All that fire and brimstone and rivers of lava. Demons beating their ragged wings and fanning the flames.” A pause, then a deep sigh. “Sarcasm is lost on the young and gullible, isn’t it? I meant it figuratively. Wreak havoc, if you will. Smite our mutual enemies.”

“No smiting.”

“You’re going to ruin all my fun, aren’t you? Fine. Free me and-”

“After you help me.”

“Details, details. I suppose you want to escape again. I’m not quite sure why, given that you seem rather fond of this place. You keep returning.”

I glared in her direction. “Yes, I want your help escaping, but we’re also going to free Simon and Tori and, if Derek’s here, he comes, too.”

“Presuming you mean the werewolf boy, he hasn’t passed through those doors since he left years ago. But if they do bring him in, I will include him in the plan. I am nothing if not fair in my dealings with mortals.”

I’d seen enough demonic-pact-gone-wrong horror movies to know I needed an iron-clad agreement. The problem was that I didn’t know exactly what I needed her to do. Get me out, sure. But how?

Not surprisingly, she had an idea. Also not surprisingly, I didn’t like it.

“Isn’t there another way?”

“There’s always another way. Personally, I would prefer that witch Diane Enright. I’m quite fond of witches, as I believe I’ve mentioned. True, she’s still alive, but that’s an obstacle easily overcome. Tell the guard you wish to speak to her and I’ll guide you through the rest. Breaking her neck is the simplest method, but you are rather small for that, so-”

“No.”

“Then it’s back to my original suggestion, isn’t it?”

A minute later, I was kneeling on the carpet, doing something I’d sworn I’d never even consider. Return a human ghost to his corpse. Right now, though, it was the only way I could see to keep from becoming a corpse myself.

I focused on the memory of his face, commanding him back.

“A little more,” the demi-demon murmured. “Yes, that’s it. Now call him to you.”

I did. And I braced myself for screams.

“They’re all in the meeting room,” the demi-demon said, as if reading my mind. “Just bring him quickly.”

A minute later, the card lock clicked. The door swung open. And there stood the guard Mrs. Enright had killed.

Earlier, he’d just been “the guard.” I didn’t know his name. Didn’t want to. I’d had to struggle to recall his face for the summoning. He’d just been an anonymous minion of the Edison Group. And now, when I desperately wanted to depersonalize him again, instead I saw a man. Young. Short brown hair. Freckles. Traces of acne on his cheeks. Was he much older than me? I swallowed, and made the mistake of lifting my eyes to his. Brown eyes, dark with rage and hate. I dropped my gaze.

He still had the card key in his hand, raised, and I fixed on that. Another mistake. A wedding band sparkled on his finger.

Oh God, he had a wife. Kids? A baby maybe? One who’d never see-

I squeezed my eyes shut.

You had nothing to do with his death.

But I’d done something that felt just as bad. I’d brought him back to life. And when I glanced at his face, I saw how terrible that was-the hate, the fury, the disgust.

“Close the door,” the demi-demon whispered.

I did.

The guard watched me, eyes narrowed, card still raised, like he’d love to shove it down my throat. Watch me choke on it.

When he spoke, his words were garbled. “Whatever you want me to do, I won’t.”

The demi-demon chuckled. “Then you don’t know much about necromancers, particularly this one,” she said, though he couldn’t hear her.

“I don’t want anything,” I said. “I’m sorry-”

“Sorry?” He spat the word and stepped toward me. His coat swung open, showing a charred hole in his chest. The stink of burned meat wafted out. I gagged, and my mouth filled with bile. He stepped toward me again.

“Stop,” I said, voice quavering.

He did, and stood there, skewering me with those burning eyes.

“I might suggest you take his gun,” the demi-demon said. “To be safe.”

I looked down. His fingers rested on the butt of his pistol.

“Don’t move,” I said.

I tugged out the gun.

“You’re going to use me to escape, aren’t you? You won’t. You belong in here. They were right. You’re monsters. I hope they kill you all.” He sneered down at me. “No, actually, I hope they don’t kill you. I hope they lock you up and experiment on you. Poke and prod and test until you wish you were dead.”

A week ago, I’d have shivered at those words. Today, I wasn’t going to cower under his threats and name-calling, and I wasn’t going to shy away from what I had to do.

I told him to sit. He did. He had no choice. Then I freed his soul, envisioning not a release but an exchange. Eyes shut, I sat cross-legged, necklace on the floor, inches from my hand. I willed this to work. Please work. Just-

“Well, that’s better,” the guard said, his mumble replaced by a weirdly musical lilt. He cleared his throat. “No, that’s better,” he said, in his normal voice.

I snatched the necklace back. The guard gave a girlish laugh. His eyes glowed orange. He blinked and rolled his shoulders, then cleared his throat again and the laugh deepened. His eyes went black, then brown.

“Will I pass?” the demi-demon asked from inside the guard’s body.

I picked up the gun from the floor.

The demi-demon laughed. “Do you really think I’d shoot you and doom myself to eternity in a rotting mortal shell? I am as much your slave as the mortal, and I promise, I shall obey with far less unseemly whining.”

I rose, the gun still in my hand.

“I would suggest you keep that,” she said. “But you’ll need to find a place to hide it.”

I tucked it into the back of my waistband. Whenever I’d seen that on the big screen, I’d rolled my eyes, thinking “one wrong move and you’re going to shoot yourself in the butt.” But, right now, it was the only place I could think of.

As I adjusted my shirt over it, my fingers trembled. I took a deep breath.