Sin & Surrender (Demigods of San Francisco Book 6) Read online

  I pointed at Bria. “She’s in charge. I’m not allowed to help.”

  “He better not be complaining, that bastard.” Bria grabbed up a button—Mia’s.

  “I hadn’t properly appreciated how quickly Lexi can get bodies animated,” Dylan mumbled, sinking down to a crouch.

  “Trust me, I have,” Bria said. “It’s more fun to stop messing with all this stuff and just stab people.”

  In another fifteen minutes, the duo down the hall started lodging spirits into bodies. Bria waved her hand at her collection of spirits, all of whom were standing around, waiting for direction. This was the difference between working with spirits and controlling them.

  “Climb into the body of your choice,” she told them, pulling a lighter from her pocket. “I will secure you as best I can, but it won’t feel as snug as when Lexi does it. You might need to make some adjustments.”

  “What if I just fastened one prong on each?” I said, biting my lip. “That’s not really helping.”

  “Don’t need it,” Chad said, choosing one of the less-mangled bodies. “They won’t tear me from this body if I don’t want to go.” I told Bria what he’d said as the rest chose bodies and climbed in.

  “He’s great. He was a good find.” She flinched then sucked her thumb, which she’d probably burned on the lighter.

  Candles and incense lit, she shooed us away a little farther and took up residence between the lines of stones and rocks. Out came the bells, and she kneeled in place.

  “If you’re in and ready, rise up.” Bria’s face turned red, and I knew she was helping them.

  The bodies flailed, like turtles on their backs. I shoved my hands in my pockets, really wanting to help.

  “When did you get so dramatic?” said the non-Gray Beard guy, a man in his forties and with dyed black hair and a matching mustache. He muttered something, and three of his bodies rose, shaky and jerking, very well controlled, especially because they were probably trying to fight him. “And so wild? It looks like you barely have a handle on them.”

  “I am their battle commander. That’s the beauty of working alongside a Spirit Walker: she makes friends, and those friends are an extension of the team. You won’t be battling the will of one person, boys—you’ll be battling a half-dozen minds, all doing whatever they want.”

  “That’s absurd,” Gray Beard said. “Commanding cadavers? Allowing spirits to think for themselves? What New Age bullcrap is this?”

  “Bullshit, Jim,” Dyed Hair said. “You sound stupid when you say crap.”

  Both teams were up and ready now, the cadavers staring at each other.

  Jack turned back to look at Bria, his upper body randomly leaning left. “What are we waiting for?” he asked. I relayed the question.

  “Them to make the first move.” Bria set up a second station, and I recognized the tools in this one. These would help her pull spirits from the bodies controlled by the other Necromancers. In a whisper that wouldn’t carry to the opponent, she said, “It gives me more time to start working on their cadavers. I won’t have to do two things at once, but they have twice as many as we do. I have to work fast.”

  Their collection of bodies started forward in a loose formation, three at the top and the rest spreading out wide behind them.

  “What’s the goal here?” Chad asked, keeping the others from walking to meet the challenge. “Take down the controllers, or take down the bodies?”

  “If you can get through the cadavers to get to the controllers, take them down. Just don’t kill.” Bria raised her voice. “Mia, did you hear me? Do not kill. You came awfully close that last time. I know you hate magical people, but it’ll reflect poorly on us if you kill someone.”

  “Child’s play,” I heard from Chad. He stepped to the front of his line, taking over, barking commands. Time to fight.

  “Don’t you need them to defend you, though?” Dylan said, rising. I wasn’t the only one who wanted to help.

  “No. Hopefully not, anyway. Why do you think I spent so much time on this old-school demon worshiper line?” Bria got to work, ringing a bell, muttering some words.

  Thane leaned forward, trying to see. “Demon what? What did she say?”

  Chad and John barreled into the first zombies they reached. They ripped and tore even as they ducked out of the way, slipping free of the next rank of cadavers. Mia disappeared, then reappeared next to Gray Beard. She grabbed his head and spun. If she’d been stronger in that body, she would’ve broken his neck. As it was, she must’ve sprained it, because he cried out, dropping the bell in his hand.

  “Jesus,” Boman whispered. “She’d be terrifying if she were alive. No controlling that one, I bet.”

  “She’s terrifying in death,” Jerry murmured.

  Jack picked up one of the opponents’ cadavers. He lifted it up and then brought it back down, breaking its spine over his knee.

  “Yes!” Donovan fist-pumped the air. “Brutal!”

  Cadavers ambled toward Bria, all of them consumed by a single purpose. One of the bodies on the other side of the battlefield fell. The spirit popped out and looked around, confused. That must’ve been Bria’s handiwork, because the spirit Jack had accosted still hunkered in its body, trying to rise back into the air, controlled like a pawn.

  I grabbed the spirit Bria had freed, pulled up the Line, and launched it as far beyond the barrier as I could. As it went, I felt a supreme sigh of relief. Of letting go. She was leaving this world, finally at rest.

  Another popped out, and I shoved him the same way, feeling years of anger and frustration melt away in an instant. Warmth filled my middle. I was doing my job, as nature intended. I was giving people the freedom and closure they’d longed for. It felt good. It felt right.

  Zombies ran at Bria now, ready to swarm. When their feet reached the ash, their bodies jerked and swayed, slowing down. Forced on, they neared the half crescent of candles, punching through the plume of stinky incense.

  The controllers jerked on the other side of the hall, as though they’d been shot. The bodies continued to push forward, but it clearly cost the Necromancers. With each step, the controllers bent over a little more, winded. In pain, maybe. Those stones Bria had set up were doing their job.

  Another soul popped out of one of their cadavers, and then another. I sent them across the Line. John ripped the head off one zombie and threw it at another. Both bodies fell and he was through, running at the controllers.

  Mia popped out of her body, their doing. I clenched my fists, wanting to shove her back in. Instead, I murmured, “Mia is out.”

  Bria swore under her breath and switched tools, working on getting Mia back into the body. Mia was a VIP—she was worth the effort.

  John didn’t tackle Dyed Hair like I thought he might. Instead, he grabbed the lip of the small table holding their supplies and tossed it.

  “Smart,” Bria muttered, having chanced a quick look. “No one does that. Why do no Necromancers do that? Very smart.”

  Mia, back in her body, disappeared off the ground and reappeared by Gray Beard. She dragged the exposed bone of her fingers across his neck. It opened up nasty gashes, and he screamed, probably more from fear and disgust than pain. She grabbed his head again and ripped. Her energy must have been flagging, because the attack was weaker than before, but tweaking his already sprained neck was enough to bring him to his knees.

  “He healed fast—he must have a blood oath,” Jerry said.

  “Yeah. He’s the resident Necromancer. He’s got the oath,” Bria replied.

  The zombies in front of Bria stopped, stuck as though the air had turned solid. One fell and the spirit popped out. Then another. I grabbed them up and shoved them across the Line.

  Chad reached Dyed Hair, convened for a second with John, and then they both grabbed him, Dyed Hair flailing in their grasp. They flung him at the wall. He hit headfirst and fell to the floor.

  The rest of the zombies fell with him.

  “Yield,” D
yed Hair yelled, his hand up. “I yield!”

  “Yield,” Gray Beard said, his voice pained. He lay down on his back, his hands on his neck.

  “Okay, Alexis, you can help now.” Bria sighed and sat back, her forehead glistening with sweat.

  Dyed Hair, blood running down the side of his face, sat up against the wall. He touched his forehead and winced.

  I grabbed up all the remaining souls, our people included, and yanked. Without any prongs securing them, the souls popped out with next to no effort. Bodies fell into heaps and Dyed Hair’s eyes widened, as big as saucers. Jerry gagged and turned away.

  “Anyone who wants an eternal resting place, raise your hand,” I said. The Line throbbed off to the side, its ultraviolet light leaking into the living world. A presence waited just behind the veil, and when I turned to look, the shadowy being, a blotch of liquid night, gave me a little wave. No soul pulsed for me to feel, but I knew it was Harding, watching again. I’d been too preoccupied to notice his scrutiny during the zombie battle, but I felt it now. He wasn’t in spirit, but he’d found another way to keep tabs on me. I still had so much to learn.

  I also hoped he wasn’t getting too cocky. He was great in spirit, but he didn’t have the power of a Demigod. He needed to watch himself or he’d get plucked right out of spirit and thrust into a body. The last thing I wanted to do was face off against him.

  The opposing spirits looked around in confusion, not used to being seen or heard by the living.

  John tapped one of them and then pointed at me. “She means you. We can leave at any time. She doesn’t control us.”

  Heads turned slowly. Eyes found me. Hunger and desperation sparked to life.

  “If you want an eternal resting place, please raise your hand—”

  “What are you doing?” Dyed Hair asked, struggling to stand. He swayed, like he was dizzy, and braced himself against the wall.

  “She’s doing what her magic was designed to do, ol’ boy.” Bria began gathering her supplies. “Protect spirits. Hope you brought a good collection of spirit items, because this bunch is about to run out of your stables.”

  “No, wait—”

  Spectral hands rose, slow at first and then shooting upward. The Line throbbed. I sent them sailing away, shoving them too far for someone of lesser power to retrieve. Harding’s shape seemed to nod in pride as I pushed the Line away, its strange colors leaking from the world. All our spirits stood waiting, probably to see if we needed anything else.

  Cleanup was fairly quick, mostly because I shoved all the spirits back into the bodies and they helped by walking to the trailer. They climbed in and lay down, and then I sent them home where they could lose track of time like normal.

  Bria took longer to pack up her arsenal, and I realized she was stalling. I was grateful. I was tired of fighting. The competitions in this place seemed pointless; I was used to fighting for a cause. I would’ve rather settled down with a book and waited for Kieran to finish up.

  “You go on, I’ll clean up,” Dyed Hair said to Gray Beard as the rest of their crew limped out from behind the corner and headed past us down the hall. Another team passed in front of us, not bothering with the crew who clearly had up their white flag. I hoped they’d meet someone else so there would be one less team to take on.

  “Thane, Donovan, help him.” Bria jerked her head at Dyed Hair. “He doesn’t have a blood oath. That slam to the head probably smarts.”

  “It does, yes.” The man put his palm to the wound. “Quite a lot.” He took a step away from the wall and winced. He motioned to me. “She can really load up cadavers and empty them that fast, huh? Without much effort?”

  “Yeah.” Bria zipped up her backpack and snuffed out the incense with her boot, smashing the ash into the carpet. “The stuff she can do without much effort would blow your mind. You’d need a whole army of cadavers to take her on. She’s no joke.”

  “I’ve never seen that.” I pointed where the rock and stone barrier had been. “You’ve really upped your game, and you were already one of our best.”

  “Yeah. Boredom, it does things to a person.” Bria slung her backpack over her shoulder as Thane and Donovan finished piling up the other guys’ bodies. “You going to make it?”

  Dyed Hair walked slowly to his cart, nodding his thanks at the guys. We all stopped near him, needing to pass him to continue into the fray. “Yes. I just need to make it back and then I can lie down.”

  “Well, if these were all the spirits you had at your disposal, you’ll be off for a few days.” Bria hooked a thumb at me. “She scattered them beyond your reach.”

  “Those were all the menial spirits, yes. Listen…” He looked around before leaning closer to her.

  “Nope. Nope, nope. Wait a moment.” She held up her hand to stop him and looked at Zorn, standing next to Havoc and slowly stroking her head. “The cameras,” she whispered. “Do we know if they have sound?”

  “Cameras?” Dyed Hair barely kept from looking upward, I could tell. “No mics on those. They are surveillance cameras only. Unless there is sound recording somewhere else, but I doubt it. I haven’t seen even a hint of that.”

  “Go ahead,” she said to Dyed Hair, “but don’t look sneaky.”

  “This is the first I’ve heard of cameras,” he said with a rumpled brow. “I can’t imagine the Demigods will be into that.”

  “I doubt the Demigods are being recorded. This setup is to watch their lackeys, I bet,” she replied.

  He nodded and sat down at the edge of the cart, palming his head. “Christ, this hurts. Your spirits are powerful. Anyway, listen.” He lowered his voice again. “You didn’t hear this from me, but we go way back. You’ve had my back plenty, so I’m returning the favor. I’ve been called in to help with a particularly strong spirit. Two level-five, experienced Necromancers, one with a blood oath, to handle just this one spirit.” He paused, not looking up.

  Bria put her hand on his shoulder and peered at his wound in a performance for the cameras. She had no knowledge of patching people up. “What’s the nature of the spirit?”

  “When they hired me, they didn’t say. I just know it’s an incredibly dangerous level five. Calling it will apparently be tough, and controlling it will be even tougher. Probably like that Apporter you have.”

  Boman stepped forward and moved Bria out of the way. He reached into one of his cargo pant pockets and came out with disinfectant wipes. He did have experience patching people up, and apparently he’d decided to help this guy because he was giving us information.

  “Two level fives, one of whom is outrageously expensive, means Aaron means business,” Bria murmured.

  Ice slid down my spine. “This is Aaron’s crew?” I asked.

  “He’s been desperate ever since Alexis came on the scene. You probably shouldn’t have taken this gig, bud,” Bria told Dyed Hair, ignoring me. “If he is saying it is dangerous, it probably means it is also very stupid, no matter how many Necromancers you have.”

  “As you said, we’re both very experienced level fives—I think we can handle anything. But…” He winced at Boman’s ministrations. “From the whisperings I’ve heard around the lodge, it sounds like Aaron had to steal the item to call this spirit. Getting it was supposedly incredibly tough, and he’s tickled with himself for pulling it off. I heard someone drop Zander’s name as I came around the corner, but then everyone zipped their lips and scurried away. Aaron wants to make a big splash. He’s going to battle with this spirit, and he doesn’t think he can lose.”

  The cold claiming my spine spread to the rest of my body. I shivered and saw my thoughts mirrored on the others’ faces.

  Aaron was going to try to wrest control of Harding away from me, and I hadn’t brought the pocket watch. Was that why Harding was hiding? Did he know?

  It was entirely possible Aaron could do it too, and once he had control of Harding, he would set his sights on me. Harding knew more than I did about this magic—plenty more. And he also
knew plenty about me.

  If Aaron managed to control him, I might end up being another “accident,” my death excused when Aaron’s people ran. There would be nothing Kieran could do about it.

  12

  Alexis

  “He won’t be able to control Harding,” Thane said as we trudged down the hall, out of steam and completely over this whole thing.

  It was five o’clock, the shadows outside were starting to lengthen, and still we kept going. We hadn’t been taken down, so leaving prematurely would make us look weak. Or maybe afraid? I didn’t know—the code didn’t make much sense to me, but everyone else agreed we had to keep going for a while longer. We’d barely even been hurt. Dylan absolutely couldn’t believe it.

  He couldn’t stop crying right now, however, so he wasn’t thinking clearly.

  He and Thane had been hit with some sort of empathic power that forced emotions on people. Dylan had gotten sadness, or something that translated into sadness. He’d burst into tears and sunk in on himself, hugging his middle. It had rendered him completely useless for the entire battle.

  Thane hadn’t gotten sad. Not at all. The guy who had been useless all day had suddenly become incredibly dangerous. Rage would do that to a Berserker.

  Maybe she’d seen those YouTube videos and knew what he was. If so, it was a hell of a risk to take. He would have been just as likely to tear through their group. Trample them. Use them as bowling balls. Tear them in half.

  Thane hadn’t broken, though. His face had turned a bright shade of crimson, his fists had balled up, and thick cords of muscle had stood out all over his body. He’d fought the urge to change, and he’d beaten it, an incredible feat for a Berserker. His control was beyond compare. Unheard of, even.

  While the others combated the rest of her group, I went after that woman with every non-life-threatening trick I knew. She was tough, too. She’d clearly battled other people with Hades magic.

  But she hadn’t battled a Spirit Walker.

  I’d scared the Empath so badly that she’d blacked out. I was no Harding, but I was good enough for the likes of this place. Most of it, anyway.