Page 50 of Jagged Souls

“She’s been dead for decades. Not even a necromancer could bring her back.”

“No, she never died, just nearly did, and now she’s here, working for Antonio.” He takes a step forward, grinning like the Cheshire cat. “Who do you think broke the ward at your house and killed all of Leno’s plants?”

My blood chills. Shit. When she and Cara Jervis went to war over a hundred years ago, they almost took the entire world with them. Both disease witches, their magic went haywire, and over a third of the population died. The SCU went after them hard. Soldiers were rounded up left and right. Capos were killed on sight. Even their associates were not safe, and many of them ended up in prison off world.

The only reason Cara is still here is because she changed her face, forced her Underboss to take hers, made a disease that made them utterly convinced they were her, and then practically served them up to the SCU. Now that person is serving life in Damaculus, the worst prison on the Seven Planes – a place only reserved for the most dangerous of criminals. Varius, Antonio, Aleric – none of them would warrant a spot in there.

So if Terra really is alive…

“Your man is as good as dead. Then we’ll kill the rest of the Shadow family one by one.”

My pulse crashes against my skull, beating hard in my ears as I struggle to keep focused. Their plan is just that. A plan. It can be foiled. They don’t even know we have Cara Jervis; they think she’s in Damaculus like the rest of the populace. So focus on that and keep him talking. “Why is Antonio doing this?”

He shrugs with a demeaning scoff. “For love. He wants to bring Siome back from the Underworld.”

My mouth drops. Venturing into the realm of the gods is insane. “He’s never going to succeed.” I try to put the pieces together, my mind racing. It doesn’t matter what I say. He’s arrogant enough to correct me if I get it wrong or gloat if I get it right. As long as I keep talking, so will he. “That’s why you’re making hybrids. You’re juicing him up to survive the Underworld. You’re a fucking idiot. That’s never going to work.”

His dark-brown eyes flash with anger. “I’m the only one smart enough to pull this off. No one thought you could turn someone into a hybrid, but I’ve done it. I just need to tweak a few things, and –”

“Tweak? The men look like twisted piles of shit.”

“Those are the failures,” he grinds out. “What I’ve done is pure genius.”

“What’s so genius about men with deformities? I could make someone just as ugly with a hammer.”

His jaw tics. “My masterpieces are not deformities. They are faster, stronger, bigger, better in every way. Their shifted forms are a combination of other creatures –”

“So you’ve made chimeras, not hybrids.”

“They’re hybrids.”

“Uh huh. How many have you made then?”

“Fi–” He stops, having finally caught on that I have been interrogating him. His eyes narrow. Antonio is going to be pissed he’s shared this much with me.

I grin savagely at him. I hope he fucking kills you for it.

No.

I hope Antonio just beats him senseless for it. Then I can still kill him myself.

“It doesn’t matter that you know all this,” he says with a sniff, trying to blow it off. “You’re going to die in here.”

I don’t say anything, and he puts the needle and blood bag down on the counter. Then he rolls me out of the room, the wheels of the bed squeaking across the floor. He pulls from the footboard, still too nervous to come anywhere near my head.

I smile at that.

He takes me down a hall. We’re definitely in a school, though this part of the building has been renovated. The walls are a cool teal. The door frames are painted black, and the doors themselves are a crisp white. Bronze knockers rest on them in the shape of a howling wolf sitting on a crescent moon that’s been turned sideways. Classrooms have clearly been combined to create bigger homes, with no doors sitting across from each other.

All the old school lockers have also been removed, and now long wooden troughs full of flowers and herbs sit along the walls. Paintings of mountains and rivers dot the place. They’ve been painted in layers to give a 3D feel to the scree slopes and pebbled banks. I like the décor, but it isn’t going to stop me from burning this place down if I get the chance.

A door opens in front of us, and a little boy no older than two darts out. He’s squealing with laughter. He doesn’t have any bottoms on. A well-built man, dripping wet and without any clothes on at all, runs after him. He grabs his son in a few strides and lifts him under his arm like a football. The boy squeals and giggles. “How the funny bunny did you get out of your pen?” he mutters as he disappears back inside. Their door is shut well before we reach them.

I swallow hard and pin my gaze to the ceiling. My empty womb sends a flare of pain all the way up to my heart. I lost my little girl, lost all those moments, and I didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye.

But Varius will.

He’ll get to hold her.