Hell Bent

Chapter 14

You know those soft, lazy kinds of mornings where you wake up, realize you are in a comfortable bed, buried beneath your favorite blanket, warm, relaxed, and don’t have a worry in the world?

This was not like that.

A spear of ice slid into my chest, shocking me awake faster than a lightning bolt. I opened my eyes.

It was dark. Eleanor was sitting on my hips. Her eyes wide, panicked. Her hands had disappeared up to her wrists in my chest.

Jesus. I mean, I’d always assumed she’d try to kill me someday, but two things: it wasn’t working, and it hurt.

“What?” I yelped. She was really agitated, and therefore, much more solid. I could feel the weight of her across my hips, like a vise of winter.

She shook her head and hurriedly twisted. I grunted as she pulled one, then the other hand out of my rib cage. She pointed over her shoulder. Toward the door.

No, not toward the door. Toward the man who stood there.

About six foot, built a little on the slim side, wearing dark slacks and a button-down shirt that was undone at the cuffs and away from his neck. His dusty brown hair stuck up, like he hadn’t brushed it in a day or two, and his round wire-rimmed glasses caught the faint moonlight seeping in through the window.

It’d been a while since I’d seen him. About three years. Back before magic had been healed. Back before we knew if we were going to survive the apocalypse. He’d looked like a slightly crazy mad scientist magic user back then.

Hadn’t changed much.

“Eli Collins,” I said as I sat and put both my feet on the floor. “Really nice of you to stop by, my friend. I’ve been looking for you.”

He hesitated there in the shadow for a moment, like a fly on the edge of a spider’s web.

I waited, listening to his heartbeat. Elevated, but not fear. More like anticipation.

“Shamus.” He took a step into the room. Moonlight slipped across him like an airport scanner. “You’re alone?”

What did he expect, that I’d have Terric stashed in my closet? “Sure,” I said. “I’m alone.”

“Good,” he said. “Very good.”

He lifted his hand and in it was a gun.

Eleanor flew at him, flew through him. I raised my hand, the rings across my fist crackling with red light.

But I was too slow.

Bullets are faster than magic.

So are tranq guns.

The gun in his hand popped. The dart hit me right in the chest.

The sun exploded there and wrapped me in fire. I clenched my teeth and moaned against the pain.

Holy fuck, that hurt.

The drug and magic crawled through my veins, knotted my muscles, and locked me down hard.

I couldn’t even blink.

Even the monster inside me was still. Knocked out cold.

This wasn’t good. This wasn’t good at all.

Collins tipped his wrist, checked his watch, then looked back at me and pressed a button that beeped. Counting down the minutes?

“I don’t have any time to waste,” he said as he walked over to me. “No time for you to argue, or try to kill me. They’ll pull me back into my cell in two minutes. Two minutes of freedom.” He spread his arms and smiled.

He glanced around, found a chair, set it close enough I could see his eyes and the wildness within them, even in the dark. Then leaned forward, his arms across his knees.

“Did you get my message, Shame? Did you see it? On Joshua? My handiwork? Did Davy see it? I hope that he did. I couldn’t have made it more obvious.”

I moved my tongue, opened my mouth. “Fuck. You.” Huh. Well, at least I could talk, though magic, and any other movement, was out of the question.

“So you saw him? What I did to him? How I killed him? Good.” He checked his watch again. He was amped up, distracted. Not exactly what I liked to see in a psychopath.

“I am not on your side, on the side of the Authority,” he clarified. “I do not care what the tattered remains of that powerless organization does. Nor am I on the side of the forces that are rising against the Authority. I am a prisoner.” Here he paused, and swallowed as if just saying that word would bring the bars of his cage slamming shut around him.

“Prisoner,” he repeated. “They have me locked down, except when they let me go for two minutes. Such a short time to do my work. To make my mark. To kill the way I like killing. You see the problem before you: you know they are looking for Breakers. Soul Complements,” he said a little softer, as if those words meant something to him now.

Then, “They want the weapon, Shame. They want you. They want the magic only you can tap. No matter that there are ways, other ways to tap magic. Things you haven’t seen. Things I have shown them are possible.”

He waved his hand as if he’d argued this before.

“Costly. But effective. Ways I have shown them they can tap in to the power of magic.” He seemed to catch himself. “Not that I will tell you. Even that—magic—is not the real problem. Do you know what the real problem is?” he asked.

“Just say it, freak,” I managed. Talking hurt. My head was pounding spikes of pain through my brain with each hard heartbeat.

“The problem is a woman. You have met her. Dessa Leeds. She knows. Knows where I am. Knows what my chains are made of. They have her, Shame.”

“Dessa?” He used to make sense. But now . . . maybe the madness had finally taken its toll.

“No, not Dessa. My soul. They have my soul.” He pulled his glasses off and rubbed his eyes. Sniffed hard, then wiped under each eye before replacing his glasses. “You have to save her. You’re the only thing they can’t fight, Shame. Death. And you crave it, don’t you? You like killing just as much as I do. Find me and my prison. Save my soul. I’ve tried. Tried everything. You.” Here he shook his head. “You’re all I have left. If you stop them, all this will be over.”

“And if I don’t?” I asked.

“Then people will die. People you care about. Oh, don’t look so surprised. It isn’t personal. I am doing what I must to survive, though I will enjoy it.”

He smiled. “I have orders to kill the people standing in their way. You’re standing in their way, Shame. You and . . . others I would love to see dead. And if you don’t find her, I will do more than just kill your friends. I will destroy everything you’ve ever touched. Everyone you’ve ever touched. It won’t matter that you carry Death magic. I’m the one with my finger on the trigger of the gun. And I will make your every breath a study in pain and misery.”

He glanced at his watch again. “You don’t have much time. Maybe a day. Maybe less. And you’ll have to be sharp, Shame. You will have to be much, much better than this . . . pitiful wreck you’ve become if you are going to save her. To stop me.”

His watch beeped once and he jumped just slightly. “Out of time. And so are you.” He tugged a needle out of his shirt pocket, bit the plastic cover off it, then leaned forward and stabbed me in the neck.

Oh, I was so going to kill the slimy little fucker for this.

“This is just the start of what they have to control magic users. To control people changed by magic. Enjoy the ride.”

Maybe I’d convince Terric to bring him back to life so I could kill him twice.

The room swirled like water down a toilet bowl. I watched Eli. Watched something that looked like a hole in space—a gate—open up behind him with a hard snap of electricity. Watched as he stood and was yanked backward by men in lab coats and face masks I could not see through.

Then the gate was gone. Eli was gone. And so was my mind.