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Calisto

There’d been more conversation with Gezgomar, most of it to do with the practicalities of how to achieve both aims. That same gleam had appeared in his eye whenever he spoke of devouring O’Reilly’s soul, even the handsome veneer doing nothing to hide his true nature.

I should have been fine with the idea. It was, after all, the deal I’d approached Gezgomar to make. But Janessa not being out of reach, changed everything.

Didn’t it?

I was Calisto Dominguez. I was the man who constantly fielded accusations of letting people walk all over him. I was the man who’d sat in that first meeting—the one where without knowledge of Asher’s powers of precognition I’d had no idea why I needed to be there—and stated that if O’Reilly wanted her daughter back, then why didn’t we just give her that. And now… I had the means to do that.

When I reached the area where I’d left Baxter, he wasn’t there. Was it the same area? Or had I gotten turned around? It was possible. Things seemed to change constantly in this place, and I didn’t have Baxter’s knack for knowing where I was. Unfortunately, with the clock ticking down once more after leaving Gezgomar’s realm, it wasn’t something I could worry about.

Leaving my body on the ground again, I slipped halfway back into the real world. Once there, I took in as much information as I could. The gun was still under Asher’s chin, like no time had passed at all. Had it? There was no Baxter.

One thing was different. Every person in the room—except for the dead girl—had a glow to them. I instinctively recognized it as their soul. Bright. Pulsating. Like a mist, but with more substance to it. I knew I could reach into their bodies, wind it around my wrist, and yank it free.

For a moment, I marveled at the range of colors. Asher’s was a pale blue, almost a perfect match for his eyes, Ben’s more of a turquoise color. Gray and sickly hues tinged the souls of O’Reilly’s men. O’Reilly’s was almost black, more like thick smoke than mist.

Gezgomar must have done something to facilitate this newfound clarity. With Edmund Wainwright, it had been like groping around in the dark and hoping for the best when I grabbed for a soul. Hence, the mistake I’d made. I assumed this would be a onetime deal, that once I’d made my choice, the ability to see souls would disappear.

Back in the place between worlds, more souls dotted the landscape in a kaleidoscope of colors. Janessa’s was easy to locate as I walked toward the body of the dead girl on the stretcher. It wasn’t black like her mother’s, but it wasn’t a pure color either, veins of darkness running through it like marbling in tiles. Not so innocent, then. All I had to do was reach for the soul, drag it across the divide, and introduce it into the dead girl. Janessa O’Reilly would live again. Albeit with an unfamiliar face and body.

And then what?

Asher had seen O’Reilly standing over me in his vision. Would that still happen? Was I crazy to think she’d keep her side of the bargain? The blackness of her soul would say I was. That was the soul of someone who lied and cheated, who murdered without a second’s thought. It wasn’t the soul of someone you trusted to keep their word. And if she didn’t, it wasn’t just my life that hinged on it. It was Ben’s. It was Asher’s.

I was dimly aware of conversation happening in the room, but my moral quandary was too great to tune in and see what was being said. The gun had been removed from under Asher’s chin, though. Threat over , the metaphorical angel on my shoulder informed me cheerily. You don’t need to do it.

Over? the devil on the other side mocked. More like temporarily postponed. You know you have to do it. That if you don’t, this won’t end well. Do you want Asher’s vision to come true? Are you tired of living?

You’re not a murderer, the angel said. Don’t listen to him. Stay true to yourself and do the right thing. You had an agreement. O’Reilly might not keep deals, but you do. You told her you’d bring her daughter back, so do that. And if you die, you’ll die with a clear conscience.

Or , the devil said, how about you don’t die? How about you suck it up and do what needs to be done, so you and Asher can live a long life together? You’ve just found him. Are you really pathetic enough to give that up without a fight?

You have to live with what you’ve done , the angel argued.

The key word there is live. Better to live with it than die wearing a fucking halo.

Guilt’s a terrible emotion to live with. You already know that.

Great! So let’s not bother having any. The woman is a scumbag. You’ll be doing the world a huge favor. Why would you feel guilty about that?

You’re a good man, Calisto. A credit to your mother. Stay that way. You know what Gezgomar wants you to do. He wants to corrupt you. Look at your soul. Tell me you don’t want to keep it that way.

I dropped my gaze. My soul was blue, with just the slightest tinge of green. Pure. Unsullied. Devoid of any corruption.

I reached back into the in-between, zero resistance meeting my fingers as I wound Janessa’s soul around my wrist and prepared to pull it.

“Are you sure about this?” Gezgomar asked in my head, his voice silky smooth. “Once you decide, there’s no going back.”

“I’m sure. I’m not a murderer.”