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Calisto

“How?”

It was to Baxter’s credit that he didn’t question the uncharacteristic nature of my declaration, but simply got straight to the practicalities of such a thing. “I don’t know yet, but it’s the only way we win.”

Neither of us voiced it, but I knew we were both thinking about the multitude of armed men O’Reilly surrounded herself with, who, even if I could somehow pull off her death, weren’t just going to disappear. I couldn’t kill them all. I didn’t even know if I could kill her. One thing at a time, though.

I could have maintained that state where I straddled both worlds, but there was no answer to be found in the tower block, only distraction, and a kindling of the boiling fury that O’Reilly’s actions had ignited in me. The answer was here. I just didn’t know what it was yet. There was an obvious place to start, though.

“Can you hear me?” I said into the ether.

The whispers started up immediately, far clearer than when I spoke to them from the other side to request they return a soul. “Necromancer,” one said. “You are living. You do not belong here.”

“Yeah, well… tough. I am here.” Realizing taking an aggressive stance wouldn’t get them onside, I sought to soften my approach. “Trust me, I wouldn’t be here if I could help it, and I have no intention of becoming a frequent visitor. I need your help.”

The background whispers quieted in a reaction I interpreted as surprise.

“What do you need, necromancer?” the same voice eventually asked.

“He wants to kill the woman,” someone said, his or her blunt summary of my wishes sparking a debate.

“We loan souls. We don’t aid in murder.”

“But she has murdered many herself.”

“Not her. The men who work for her.”

“It’s the same thing,” a more strident voice said. “She gives the orders. You are right when you say we don’t aid in murder, but to do nothing is to do that very thing.”

“This is a pointless debate when there is nothing we can do.” This voice sounded weary, one of the older spirits, maybe.

“Nothing?” I asked.

“We loan souls,” the first voice that had spoken said. “Nothing more. Even if we wanted to help you, and it wasn’t against everything we stand for, there is nothing we can do.”

“Could you find her daughter’s soul?”

“Gone.”

“Long gone,” another voice echoed. “She accepted her fate and moved on, the same as most people do.”

I had a feeling that was aimed at Baxter. “There must be something you can do?”

“Nothing,” a cacophony of voices all said at the same time.

“The demons,” a lone voice whispered, several others quickly shushing them.

“What about the demons?” Silence, my question going unanswered. “What about the demons?” I repeated.

A sigh, and then, “They might be able to help you, necromancer.”

Another debate started up, several voices talking over each other.

“Why did you have to mention the demons?”

“We don’t talk about the demons.”

“We never talk about the demons.”

“They are here, but we pretend they’re not. They leave us alone and we leave them alone. That is the way it has always been. And now you’re sending people to them.”

“Not people. A necromancer. One who needs help we can’t give.”

“Why? Why him?”

“He’s trying to save people. The policeman, and the man who can see the future. He cares about them. The least we can do is point him in the right direction.”

“And you think that means we won’t have blood on our hands? It does not.”

“Enough,” I said, the arguing inside my head making my temples throb. “Thank you for your help.”

“I would advise against approaching the demons, necromancer,” the original voice said. “They are not to be trusted. Let things happen as they will.”

“You mean let everyone die, including myself?” They apparently had no answer to that, no response coming. I heaved out a breath and turned to face Baxter, him only being able to hear my side of the conversation not having hampered his understanding, if the slight shake of his head was anything to go by. “Where do we find the demons?”

The headshake became more pronounced. “It’s not a good idea.”

“Probably not,” I admitted. “But I’m out of options.”

“Take a minute to think about it,” Baxter implored. “That’s all I ask.”

“She had a gun under Asher’s chin,” I said, my voice cracking. “So please , just this once, don’t argue and do what I ask.”

Slow seconds crawled by before Baxter gave a jerky nod. “Okay.”

He set off, and I followed, fog creeping in that, no matter how hard I tried to believe it wasn’t there, refused to shift. “It’s not you this time,” Baxter said. “They hide their realm.”

“But not from you?”

“I’ve been here a long time.” His words brought a glimpse of the melancholic Baxter I’d discovered sitting on top of a car, before he hid it behind a bright smile. How many times had his devil-may-care nature been a cover for how he really felt? How many times had he used humor or talking about sex to disguise his sadness? I had a feeling it was a lot, and I just hadn’t cared to notice. “There isn’t an inch of this place I haven’t explored.”

“Have you spoken to them, the demons?”

Baxter gave me a sideways look. “No. I’m not suicidal.”

“You’re already dead.”

“There are worse things than death.”

“Yeah, I suppose there are.”

He came to a sudden stop. “This is as far as I go.”

“You’re not coming with me?”

He shook his head. “Be careful, Calisto. Don’t agree to anything with too high a price.” I wished I could tell him I wouldn’t, but with Asher’s life on the line, I wasn’t entirely sure it wouldn’t be a lie.

Despite my determination to see this through, nerves were a constant companion as I pressed on, my heartbeat irregular. I kept thinking of that picture Griffin had shown me—the artist’s rendering of the eight-foot demon with many spiky extrusions and teeth that looked like they could rip through skin as easily as if it was tissue paper. Could demons speak? If so, what language? How would we communicate? Despite my concerns and Baxter’s warning still ringing in my ears, I hatched a plan while I walked.

“Hello there!” The cheery greeting had me swinging around and searching for its source. The fog cleared at an unnatural speed to reveal a man. He had dark, wavy hair and was extremely handsome, his eyes blue like Asher’s, but where Asher’s were pale, his were more vivid. Almost too vivid, if such a thing was possible. He lounged on a cream chaise lounge, the sight completely incongruous in our current setting. As I changed direction and headed toward him, he swung his legs off the seat and sat up. “You seem like you’re looking for someone. Perhaps I can help.”

“I’m looking for…” How was I supposed to end that sentence? A demon seemed far too provincial an answer. What had Griffin called the demon, the one who was in control of the dead? I had a moment of panic that my memory would fail me before it came to me. “I’m looking for Gezgomar.”

“Gezgomar!” the man said with a slight eyebrow lift. “What on earth is a nice boy like you, who’s not even dead, doing in a place like this, searching for someone like him?”

“I have a gift for him.”

“A gift!” The eyebrow inched higher. “And what do you think you might have that he could possibly desire?”

“A soul,” I said. “A truly evil one.”

He made a considering noise. “And what makes this soul so evil?”

“The murder of many, and the intent to murder more. All without remorse.”

The man steepled his fingers together and gave a slow nod. “Perhaps you should tell me your name, stranger. I fear we skipped the introductions and jumped straight to the business end of the conversation.”

“Calisto,” I said, “Calisto Dominguez. I’m a…”

“A necromancer,” the man finished before I could say it. “But not a normal necromancer. One who can cross worlds. Hence”—he waved an airy hand—“you standing in front of me in a place you shouldn’t be.”

“And you are?” I enquired.

The slight quirk of his lips said he was about to say something amusing. “My name is Gezgomar. So I think we can agree your search has proved fruitful.”

I swallowed, my throat seizing up and making the action difficult. “You’re… You don’t…”

“Look like a demon?” He spread his arms out to the side. “This is my domain. Therefore, I can take on any form I wish.” He stood, the movement sinuous enough to make him look like the non-human he’d just informed me he was. “If you prefer, I can take on my true form?”

The shake of my head was probably a little too enthusiastic. “No. This is fine.”

He cocked his head to one side and studied me. “Come a little closer and we’ll talk about this gift you’re so keen to give me.”

Despite everything in me screaming to step back and put more distance between us, I walked forward a few steps. Gezgomar’s perfectly shaped lips curled into a smile and he patted the chaise lounge next to him. I gingerly lowered myself onto the seat, our thighs far closer than I would have liked. I was keenly aware of time passing, but without the ammunition to do anything about it.

My one bargaining chip of pretending I was doing him a favor and offering a prime soul on a silver platter, cobbled together within a few seconds, suddenly seemed woefully inadequate. And what if this was all for nothing? What if O’Reilly had already given the order to pull the trigger?

“Time doesn’t run here,” Gezgomar said conversationally. “Unless I want it to.”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said. In this part of the realm, in my domain, there is no time. Or if you want me to put it in more simple terms, time has stopped while we have this conversation.” Well, at least that was good news. I tried to squeeze enough of myself back into the other realm to take a peek, but met a solid wall. “I’m afraid you can’t do that here. But if you want to know what’s going on, all you need to do is ask.”

It seemed there was nothing I could do, nothing I could think, that Gezgomar wasn’t aware of. “Is anyone dead or injured?” I asked, not bothering to sugarcoat my words.

“Dead, no. Not unless you count the girl.” The sweet rush of relief only lasted a couple of seconds. “Injured, yes.” Did that mean Asher had been shot, but hadn’t yet succumbed to his injuries? “The policeman has been badly beaten,” Gezgomar added. “There are no other injuries apart from that.”

This time, I let the relief sweep over me in a soothing wave. That meant there was still time. “The soul I want to give you,” I said, “is the soul of the woman there. Abigail O’Reilly.”

“I’m aware of her. Or more specifically, of her son. He made himself quite the nuisance trying to get my attention.”

“He killed for you,” I said, the words bitter in my throat. “Isn’t that something you’re supposed to appreciate?”

Gezgomar grimaced. “Not when it’s done in such a needy way. There was no art to it. No genuine enjoyment. He did it simply to curry favor. Despite that, I made a deal with him. Unfortunately, he didn’t keep his side of the bargain.” He shrugged. “Therefore… no deal.”

By which he meant, Flynn hadn’t killed enough people because Griffin and Ben had stopped him. “Do you want it?” I asked. “The soul, I mean?”

He contemplated my question for a few seconds, his brow furrowed in an all too human way. “Do you know what I enjoy?”

Pain? Suffering? Human turmoil? Death and destruction? I settled for a shake of my head instead.

Gezgomar’s smile was knowing. “I enjoy testing people,” he said. “I like to see when given the choice between good and evil, which they will go for.” He turned in the seat to face me. “Take you, for example. You’ve always chosen the path of the righteous, haven’t you?”

He made it sound like an insult. “I’m not an angel! But yes, I’ve always tried to do the right thing, to be the best I can. Some people think I’m too nice.”

Gezgomar laughed. “An accusation I’ve never had aimed at me.” He leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. “So what do you say to a little test?”

Sweat prickled on the back of my neck. “Do I have any choice?”

“Of course. You walk out of here and this conversation is over. I won’t stop you, if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

Which would leave me no better off. “What’s your test?”

He sat up, looking delighted at my question. “Close your eyes. I have a surprise for you.”

Close my eyes in front of a demon? I did, though, because what else could I do?

“Okay. You can open them.” When I did, a girl stood in front of me. She was tall with auburn hair one shade lighter than the dead girl’s in the tower block.

“Voila!” Gezgomar said, like a game show host.

The girl was extremely pretty, with a button nose, green eyes, and generous lips. She had a willowy figure shown to best effect by a black sheath dress. The longer I stared at her, the more I decided she wasn’t pretty, but stunning.

“I know,” Gezgomar said. “The mother is so plain. But Flynn and Janessa’s father was a model, and he enjoyed being dominated by powerful women. I suppose you can’t argue against Abigail O’Reilly being powerful.”

“You had her,” I said, still trying to wrap my head around the fact that she wasn’t dead, after all. Well, she was dead, but not so dead she was out of reach.

“Of course,” Gezgomar said. “I already told you I had a deal with Flynn O’Reilly. When he didn’t keep his side of the bargain, I didn’t really know what to do with her, but I figured I’d hang onto her.” He waved a hand in her direction. “There you go. You have your soul.”

The girl hadn’t moved so much as a muscle, standing like a mannequin. “Can’t she talk?”

“I thought it best she didn’t. I would hate for it to influence you.”

“Influence me?”

“In your decision.”

“What decision?”

“You can do what you came here to do. You can take Janessa O’Reilly’s soul and put it in the poor dead girl’s body.” He gave an exaggerated shrug. “After all, she’s not coming back, and it’s a shame to waste it. Or…” His eyes gleamed, and a smile hovered on his lips. “You can rip O’Reilly’s soul from her body and drag it here. Where I give you my word, I will devour every last speck of it.” He laughed at my expression. “Look at you. Even the thought of doing that makes you feel sick, doesn’t it? What happened to the man who so recently announced that O’Reilly dies? I liked that man. He seemed much more fun than do-gooder Calisto.”

“It’s murder,” I said, my throat tight.

Gezgomar sat forward with a smile on his face. “It is. And it tastes so good. You should try it. You might even find you like it.”

I shook my head, rejecting the malevolence now coming off him in waves. “That was when I thought there was no alternative.” I pointed at Janessa O’Reilly. “But you’ve given me one. I can do the right thing.”

“The right thing? Or the stupid thing?”

I had nothing to say to that because I didn’t know the answer.