Chapter 14

CHAPTER14

With Ediye, Cole, and Cyrus all gone on their missions from Ashen, I have a whole whopping day and a half to find the first Council representatives outside of my core group of trusted friends. Not that I’ve actually asked them to be on the Council yet, which I add to my growing mental ‘to do’ list. So far, the list includes everything from figuring out what to do with the hybrids that are still chilling at Valentina’s estate to finding out where the hell to get that elusive wax.

The first few interviews go well enough. They’re Reapers that Ashen says befriended Ediye while I was M.I.A., all from House Ushzu. From the three candidates, I pick a woman named Hotaru, who seems both shrewd and measured. She hasn’t given much thought to the souls that are here, but she’s interested in a fairer justice system for the immortals in the Living Realm. Plus, she killed the next candidate who was about to walk in as they passed one another at the door, which was pretty badass. Apparently, he was a real dick to her last week at Bit Akalum. Yep, Hotaru will definitely fit in.

My interview process was a little clumsy with the first few interviewees after Ashen’s recommendations, but I’ve got my system fine-tuned now. I ask a bunch of questions, then slap a hand to the candidate’s forehead to see if they’re lying and find any other good tidbits. And there has been some gossip, let me tell you. Lots of feuds that go back for decades, more than a few protection scams in the Living Realm, and even several secret babies, mostly with humans. A dude named Maru from House Urbigu is in some kind of polyamorous situation with the sweet singer Tessa, two vampire brothers and a warlock. I like Tessa ten times more now. Maru is definitely in. Not because of the whole Tessa thing, but because he’s honest and he’s one of the few Reapers I’ve met who cares about what happens next to the wayward souls. And, you know, why choose. Double win.

But the Reapers of House Mushussu?

Fuck. It’s rough going.

House Mushussu specializes in reaping vampires, I’ve come to learn. And most of them are not so fond of being led by one.

Demon after demon, they fail the interview, some tanking in spectacular fashion. Truthfully, I get it. Not only are they pissed about Hakan, but the rumors about Joash and his severed arm have already swept through the House like a building fire. They’re pissed. Most of them can’t even hide it long enough to get through the questions. More than a few fall on Ashen’s blade.

I’ve been at it for six solid hours, and the latest condescending, crusty bitch I’m currently interviewing has really set my fangs on edge. I manage to make it through her questions, then slap a hand to her forehead, sending her mind into a dark room without even bothering to find out if she was answering them honestly.

“Zida,” I say to the snake curled behind my throne. She lifts her head and looks from me to the demon sitting in the chair.

The woman can still hear me. Her arms dart out, trying to feel her way in a darkness that only lives in her imagination. “What? Wait, no—”

“Have a snack,” I say wearily before turning back to my throne. The giant snake slides toward the scrambling Reaper, hissing as she rises on her muscular body. The woman begs with a series of no-no-nos until Zida strikes her in the shoulder with her fangs and draws the demon into the grip of her shifting white coils. I close my eyes and rub my temples to the sounds of muffled screams and popping bones. “I did not like her snotty attitude. At all.”

“I can see that,” Ashen replies. “Perhaps a bit of a strong reaction for condescension.”

“Maybe she’ll learn to be a little more polite when she gets back from the Resurrection Chamber.”

Ashen huffs a laugh as he pushes a blood bag into my hand. “Well…that’s not going to happen. Not when Zida eats them, vampire.”

“Oh…” I say, glancing over at the snake. I swear she gulps the demon down faster than necessary, just in case I change my mind. I just give a half-hearted shrug instead. “My bad.”

I make another mental note, the Fourth Rule of the Shadow Realm: be more careful who you feed to the snake.

Ashen and I stare at one another for a long moment before he sweeps his fingers down my forearm in a gentle caress. I catch his hand and bring it to my face, leaning against it like a pillow. “Though your dedication to the interviews for the new Council is admirable, you should probably break for a while,” he says.

“Says the man who’s been standing for six hours.”

“I’m fine, vampire. Besides, Imani is bringing food.”

I purse my lips and let out a stream of a sigh, too tired to even think about everything on my list or what the fuck I’ve done with my life. I’m the one who chose mercy over matches, after all. Like a dumbass. “I don’t know about dedication. I just know I have a shitload of work to do to even learn about this place so it doesn’t fall apart at the leaderless seams. I need a trustworthy Council to help me transition into this role and I need them yesterday.”

“Yes, but if you exhaust yourself, you will only hinder your progress.”

We’re staring at one another as though on the cusp of arguing when Imani drifts into the room, flanked by one server carrying a covered platter and another with a bottle of wine. Imani is the picture of power and opulence, from her sleek patent heels to the effortless gesture of her hand as she ushers her servers toward the table. Her dark skin glows beneath a mass of black curls. A sparkling crimson dress shimmers across her curves, necklaces cascading down her neck like a waterfall, disappearing between her cleavage.

“Queen Leucosia,” she says with a smile in her smooth voice. It’s as rich as salted caramel. I want to melt right into it. Plus, she’s currently slaying it with Rule Two of the Shadow Realm: pay more attention to who carries what. Imani carries a thermos and I can already smell the contents. It’s spiced hot chocolate with blood. And brandy, even better.

“It’s good to see you again,” I say, sitting a little straighter. I want to thank her for what she did that first day in the Kur by shifting the atmosphere in the room to my favor. I wish I could tell her to just call me Lu, but I know the power of a name. I know what happens if you give it away too quickly to people you don’t know.

“I am so pleased to see that you have recovered from your recent ordeals,” Imani replies as she pours the thick chocolate into a glass mug. “How is the search for the new Council going?”

“We have a few good people lined up. I’m hitting a bit of a wall now though.” I take the mug from Imani and motion for her to sit. Ashen takes a seat at the table where the servers set a place for him with what looks like a slab of rare venison, vegetables, and a basket of rolls with way too much butter. He glares over his shoulder as though he can read my thoughts and I grin before turning my attention back to our guest. “Which House are you in, Imani?”

“None. Not anymore,” she replies, smiling at the contented sigh I give when I take my first sip. The rich, boozy dark chocolate is spiced with a touch of chili and the tingling sweetness of Ashen’s blood. “I was once aligned with House Ushzu, long ago, before I took over Bit Akalum.”

“Do you have any recommendations for Reapers I should talk to from House Mushussu?”

Imani looks up toward the ceiling as she considers this for a brief moment. “Likely your best option is Bridget.”

My gaze flicks to Zida, who is currently digesting Bridget. I gulp down the rest of my hot chocolate even though it’s still way too hot. “I’m afraid that will be a nonstarter.”

“I see,” Imani replies with a knowing smile as she leans forward and tops up my mug. “You can hear the souls, can you not? Or communicate with them somehow?”

Word gets around fast in the Shadow Realm restaurant industry. “Yes, I can.”

“If you had a Resurrectionist, you could choose a soul to be assigned there. One you feel you could work with. Not a vampire soul, but perhaps a witch or even an apothecary if you can find one, though there are so few that have slipped through the protection of their Guild and wound up here. Someone either neutral or who would fit well with the others already in that House. Even a werewolf, if you can find one you feel you could also work with.”

“That’s a good idea,” I say as I consider the steps. The Resurrectionist issue should be sorted out soon. It would take a while to find the right soul, but it would be safer than what I’ve got to pick from now. “Thank you for that suggestion.”

“You are welcome, my Queen,” Imani replies with a shallow bow of her head. We assess one another for a moment before she starts to rise from her chair. “I should go, and let you have your time in peace.”

“Wait, please.” My eyes rest on hers as I listen to her pulse and the steady stream of air that fills and leaves her lungs. I draw in a deep breath and take in her scent. Jasmine. Orange. Oil on a hot cast iron pan. Pepper from the kitchen. “Would you be on the Council?”

Imani sits back in her chair. She looks at me as though trying to discern if I’m worthy of her commitment. “Representing which House?”

“All. I’d like you to speak for the best interests of the Reapers who are already here as we start to resurrect souls. The newcomers will need places to live. You know best where they would fit, and where they wouldn’t.”

Imani tilts her head, her rich brown eyes raking over every inch of my face. “This could put pressure on my establishment if disagreements occur.”

“Something makes me think you can handle it.”

I take in every detail that comes from this formidable Reaper’s body, though nothing changes. Her pulse doesn’t hammer with anticipation of coming close to something she wants. The smell of adrenaline doesn’t enliven her scent. She just watches me back, probably weighing the pros and cons and the most diplomatic way to let me down, if that’s what she decides.

“I am honored. I accept,” she finally says with a demure bow of her head. I rise, lifting my hand to touch her forehead so I can see her thoughts, but she holds up a palm to stop me. “I can’t allow you. Too many have entrusted me with their secrets, not just here but in the other realms. It would endanger them.”

I let my hand drop back to my side. “And it would risk the favors you’re owed.”

Imani’s smile comes to life. “Correct.”

“Lu can spellcast,” Ashen says, washing down a mouthful of venison as his eyes burn into Imani. “She can create a blood bond between you. That way you keep both your secrets and your promises to your Queen.”

“Ashen,” Imani purrs, tacking on a chastising tsk. Her smile brightens with a sly curve at one edge. “You and I both know that I have the connections to not only leave this realm despite your travel ban, but to break any spell she could cast. Our Queen is going to have to trust me if we are to work together.”

Ashen’s expression darkens as his gaze slides to mine. His anxiety tingles through my skin, my own following it like an echo. I look to Imani once more as her smile fades to something gentler.

“All right. I won’t look into your mind. But I do have one question,” I say, continuing to test her body’s reactions with every breath I take. “Why did you help Ashen when he made arrangements to free me from the dungeons?”

Imani takes no time to think about her answer. “Because I see myself in you.”

“I don’t hear that often, and when I do, the person is usually batshit crazy,” I reply, a little disheartened.

Imani lets out a vibrant laugh that reminds me of windchimes warmed by the summer sun. Ashen smirks over the edge of his wine glass. “That is not what I meant,” she says, leaning forward a little as the amusement dims in her eyes. What’s left behind looks like appreciation, maybe even a bit of affection. “I have had to fight for myself here too. I had to prove my worth when I elected to take on Bit Akalum. I backed down from no one. I showed the Shadow Realm my power, and that night you came to Bit Akalum, I watched you at the table doing exactly what I would have done. I saw how you refused to capitulate to Ember. You fought your corner without using your voice. And then you went out onto the dancefloor and showed the room how much power you held. Even not knowing who you truly were at the time, I saw a woman like me. One who would refuse to acquiesce. You did not deserve to be stolen away into that dungeon.” Imani settles back a little in her seat and lifts a shoulder. “Plus, it was obvious your Reaper was madly in love with you, and I am fond of him.”

Ashen coughs his wine into his napkin as Imani gives me a wink. I swallow down a laugh that begs to crawl from my throat. “Good enough for me. Thank you, Imani. I look forward to working together.”

Imani rises from her chair, taking the empty thermos with her. “Good night, Queen Leucosia. Ashen.” Imani nods to us both and turns toward the door. I take a deep breath when she passes the threshold with her servers in her wake, feeling a bit lighter with that decision made, even though I know it will continue to challenge my trust.

“Nervous?” Ashen asks as he sits back in his chair, his eyes drifting down to where my mark peeks out from the neckline of my shirt. “You can always change your mind if you want.”

“No, it’s not that. I mean, it’s that too,” I hedge, chewing my lip as I watch Zida drift away to rest in a far corner of the room. “It’s actually Cole.”

Ashen’s eyes snap to mine and darken. “What about him? Did you find something in the interviews?”

“No, not at all. Nothing like that,” I say, a crease of confusion appearing between Ashen’s brows. “I don’t want him to be the Resurrectionist.”

Ashen’s confusion deepens as his gaze sweeps across my face. “Okay…”

“I want him as my lead advisor. He’s the kind of person who can distill all this stuff and teach me about this place and the Realm of Light. Plus, he knows the Living Realm well enough. He’s the only other person like me who spans all three.”

“What about Ediye?”

“I want her with me too, for sure. But she’s in the same boat as me. Lots to learn. There’s so much we both don’t know.”

Ashen runs his thumb across the base of his wine glass as he thinks about this. “Makes sense. He would be good in the role. But if that is the case, who do you want as the Resurrectionist?”

We eye one another and I can almost see the suspicion folding into his eyes, dimming the brightness of the gold flakes. I take a deep breath in, trapping it behind my ribs. “Davina.”

Ashen goes completely still. On the outside, it’s as though he’s hardened into stone. But I hear his heart stutter. I feel the tempo of his lungs change. “Lu—”

“Hear me out, Ashen. She was a reaped soul for a long, long time. She knows what they’re going through, and she knows how hard it is to adjust to a new life after resurrection. I know what Davina did to you caused you immeasurable grief. She knows it too. I’m not asking you to forgive her. I’m just asking you to make space for her.”

Ashen says nothing as I rise and walk toward him, but I see the tension bleed from his shoulders as I draw near. He shifts his leg and I sit on his lap, taking his face in my hands. The swirl of his emotion warms the gold in my chest. It’s grief and admiration, anger and understanding. I give him a faint smile as I stroke my thumb across his cheek.

“You want me to heal this place,” I whisper. “Maybe this is how we do it. By making space for one another.”

Ashen sighs. There’s so much sorrow in him still, and a history that’s full of the dark power that rage and regret can exert over a life, if you let them. He’ll never be rid of his shadows, but I know he doesn’t want to be bound by them either. If he did, he wouldn’t try to calm the flare of light that rings his eyes, or the smoke that flows down from his shoulders. But the light does dim, and the smoke does fade away.

Ashen looks at me as though he can see every sparking nerve and shifting cell behind my eyes. “I hope the next time you look in the mirror, you see what I do.”

“And what do you see, exactly?”

“The true Queen of the Reapers. The leader that this realm always deserved.”

I smile and pull Ashen toward me, kissing him deeply. It’s not just wine I taste on his lips, but pride, and truth, and love. And I realize that maybe destiny isn’t some grand, sweeping event that cracks you apart and molds you into something new. Maybe it’s making the best choices you can, and ending up somewhere you didn’t expect, and still embracing the future you want to see.

Destiny isn’t given. It’s earned. And if this is mine, I intend to deserve it.