Delilah Devlin: Lost Souls

A pang of regret went through her, and she slid it to one side of her mind. Focus on what you can do. Sam and the cop who’d had the misfortune to pull duty on the third floor were the only ones she might be able to help.

The gold housing warmed in her hand, seeming to pulse. Pulling down the neck of her shirt, she placed the glass face against her chest, right above her heart.

Cait cleared her mind, concentrating on taking slow, even breaths. She thought about what she hoped to achieve, running through the sequence, then forming images of Sam in his crisp dress shirt, his eyes alert and questioning, his body standing straight and tall. Fully alive.

Then she rewound, in her mind, the moments before his death, and played them forward, dreaming of catching him when he came through the vortex to the other side. Her arms surrounding him, cushioning him as they fell together to the hotel room floor. “I need only a minute, maybe two,” she whispered. “Grant me this wish, and I will embrace everything I am. I’ll practice… I’ll pray.”

The watch warmed and then seemed to vibrate. The ticking grew louder and slowed, matching the rhythm of her heartbeats. For another moment, she simply stood, letting the sound fill her chest. Letting peace seep into her body to quiet her thoughts.

She placed the watch on the floor beside the basket and took out the brass bowl, poured small chunks of charcoal into the bottom, and doused them with lighter fluid. With the strike of a match she lit the coals, fanning them with a hand. Smoke billowed up, emitting a sharp smell, but then died away. The coals glowed. She unstoppered the first vial and sprinkled the ingredients she’d ground together at Morin’s, listening to them crackle and pop atop the hot coals as a sweet-scented smoke arose. She hoped like hell the smoke filling the elevator car didn’t trigger a fire alarm but pushed aside that worry to concentrate again.

A moment of doubt made her hesitate. The words don’t matter, she reminded herself. Then she straightened, surrounded by herbal smoke, and addressed The Powers.

“Elementals, hear me, your servant,

Humbled by loss,

Strengthened by purpose.

Render this door a portal to unseal,

Time unraveled,

The past revealed.”

Cait bent and picked up the pocket watch and clicked the button at the side of the face to pop up the glass. She touched a delicate hand and moved it counterclockwise until the time reflected the moment of Sam’s death, then she moved it again to two minutes before.

She clipped the glass shut, shoved it into her pocket, and reached into the basket again, this time for the bottled water. With several shakes, she doused the coals. Again, she lifted the basket.

Cait straightened in front of the doors and closed her eyes, saying a quick prayer for all to go well. “Please, please let this work,” she whispered, then flicked the stop switch. The doors whooshed open.

Her heart stopped, then thudded hard against her chest at the sight of wine-and-gold paisley wallpaper, dark red carpet, and shiny brass plates on the room doors opposite the elevator.

Relief rushed through her. She stepped out.

“I wondered if you’d figure out a way. What a clever girl.”

Alarmed, Cait’s gaze whipped toward Eddie Bradley, who leaned a shoulder on a nearby wall.

The doors began to slide closed. He reached to clap his hand against the doors to hold them open. “Are you sure you want these doors to close? You might not make it back.”

“Your master killed Sam.”

His eyelids flickered. His stare grew solemn. “I’m sorry for that.”

“I won’t kill you if you help me. There’s no time for discussion.”

His mouth twitched. “What do you want me to do?”

“Exactly what you’re doing now. Keep those doors open until I get back. Shouldn’t take me long.”

“You’d trust me to do this for you?”

She rounded on him and glared. “You don’t know what I’m capable of. Have no clue how far I’d go to hunt you down. I’ll spare nothing if you betray me. I’ll show not one single ounce of remorse.”

Eddie’s lips twisted in a snarl. “He found me trolling for a new meal in his bar downstairs. He said he had the power to make sure I’d never leave the hotel alive. That I had to surrender my soul into his keeping. ’Til death do us part. All he had to do was flash a little lightning, and I caved.” He flashed her a strained smile. “There’s no divorce between demons. If you kill him, you’ll free me, and I’ll be in your debt. Forever.”

“I don’t want a demon owing me anything. But I’ll let you slip away. So long as you behave. Agree to take only what you need to survive from the women you prey on, and I’ll let you keep breathing.”

He nodded, and then jerked his head toward the hallway. “He’s in the room. Something’s up. He never goes there unless he’s pulling someone through to make a meal of.”

She gave him a hard smile. “Thanks. You wait for me.”

Without another word, she tucked her basket against her belly and sped down the hall.

Something was happening, all right. Lights flickered. The dreaded humming vibrated in the air. The hairs on her arms prickled and lifted.

She stopped at the door and plucked the mirror from the basket. Holding it in front of her face, she hoped like hell Morin wasn’t wrong. Sucking in a deep breath, she turned the handle and entered.

Avery Lewis stood in front of the wall, a younger version of himself, brown hair touching his collar, geeky glasses perched on his nose. His arms moved in a circular motion, and the walls were only beginning to liquefy.

At the click of the door closing, he turned his head.

She held her breath, glancing around the mirror to watch as his head canted and his eyes narrowed. Not daring to breathe, she waited as he stared at the mirror for a second, then blinked and returned his attention to the vortex that was beginning to swirl in front of him.

Cait edged quietly to the bed and set down her basket on the floor beside it, unfolding the cover with one hand while continuing to hold up the mirror.

A cackle sounded. A dry sound that grated on her nerves. His arms continued circling, widening, then pulling back. The wall disappeared, the space in front of him darkening, filling with a milky, swirling cloud of gray and white that flickered with touches of light.

The demon shaped the cloud with his hands, forming an ever-widening cone. Lightning flashed through the opening, a deadly arc tapping his hands and then wrapping around them. He pulled it like a rope, grabbing the jagged bolt to tug it hand over hand into the room, where it flicked up to the ceiling, tapping its way around, searching for ground.

Wind whipped inside the room, charged with static electricity that raised gooseflesh and hair. Cait ducked down beside the bed, her gaze going from the jagged flicking bolt back to the swirling vortex.

Two large shapes glowed in the center, attached to the end of the lightning rope. Sam and the uniformed cop dropped to the floor in front of Avery, their clothing sparkling with little embers of fire, steam rising on their hair and skin. Their bodies were held rigid, their eyes wide open. They were breathing, aware.

Sam had lied. He suffered. He knew what was happening but was helpless, held in rigor as the demon hovered over him.

With her fingers wrapped in a death grip around the mirror’s handle, Cait stood poised, waiting for the right moment to spring forward.

But another shape glowed in the opening and stepped through. The older Mr. Lewis, his face animated, edges sharp and cruel, stepped out of the wall and bent toward his captives. “Quickly! We haven’t time to savor our kill.” He glanced over his shoulder to the room visible at the end of the swirling funnel. “They’ll be upon me soon.”