The Banshee grabs his arm and tugs him towards the gate. “Don’t worry, you’ll forget soon enough.”
He nods, walking away, leaving our bodies in the fog, in the dark, soulless.
I suck in a sharp breath as my body trembles. “We have to get out of here.” I push to my knees. “Now.”
Aislin chases after me. “Gemma, calm down. You have to think rationally.” She seizes my elbow, but I jerk it away. “Gemma, you’re acting insane.”
“I know.” I pause at the boulders, shoulders slumping as the pressure builds. “Aislin, there’s something I need to tell you—something bad.”
She stops beside me, swallowing hard. “Okay.”
“It’s about Alex,” I say softly, staring at my feet. “H-he made a deal with Draven—the Lord of the Afterlife.” I take a deep breath and turn to look at her. “He made it back when we were trying to stop the portal. He said that he’d be in debt to him in exchange for some information.”
She starts shaking her head, over and over again. “That idiot. For how long?”
“A year,” I say quietly.
“A year!” She starts cursing as she turns in a circle. “That jackass. How could he do this to me… leave me here all alone?”
I frown. “You’re not alone… you have Laylen… and you have me.” And I guess if I look at it that way I’m not really alone, either. “Besides, we’ll save him.”
She keeps shaking her head, like she doesn’t believe it. I know exactly how she feels because, deep down in the bottom of my soul, I can feel something breaking off, like his soul is trying to disconnect from me.
Chapter 28
Alex
I blink my eyes at the ceiling above my head. It seems like I have been here forever and it has only been a couple of days. I stretch my arms above my head and throw the blanket off me. Swinging my feet over the side of the bed, I step onto the rug. I open the closet door and view the clothing inside. Draven has made sure that there is plenty for me to wear, all black, though, “fitting for a Lord” as he put it. I throw on a pair of black jeans and a black shirt.
After I lace my boots, I make my way to the dining area at the end of the tunnel. I was hesitant to eat anything after my first experience dining with Draven, but there hasn’t been a maggot incident since. I decided that I’d cooperate with him, at least for the time being, because I don’t really have an alternative and it seems like the longer I stay down here, the less I want an alternative. It’s freaking strange, but I’m starting to see why I should be here. Besides, I might be able to gain some insight on what Helena and the Lost Souls are up to since Draven hates her about as much as I do.
The table is fully stocked, like usual, and I sit down, picking up a piece of toast and spreading some butter on it. For a second, my minds drifts back to the real world—back to Gemma—but everything seems so hazy and disconnected.
I take a bite of the toast and my thoughts are interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching. The Banshee enters, wearing a long, velvet, maroon dress, her hair done up, and loop earrings dangle from her ears.
“What do you want?” I ask, reaching for the sausage.
“Now, Alex, is that any way to greet me?” She walks to the side of the table, grabs the back of a chair, and leans over. “You better be nice to me or I won’t be nice to you.”
“Now there’s a bonus.”
“That’s what you think until we get so deep into this that I’m all you have.” She pulls her hands back from the chair, and her heels click as she circles to the other side of the table where she stops beside me. She places one hand on the table and uses her other to trace a line down my cheek. “Your innocence is so alluring…” Her finger hitches under my chin. “I just want to keep you for myself.”
Frowning, I look at her. “Innocent? Seriously?”
Her lips twist to a grin. “Innocent compared to me, but if you let me, I can change that for you.”
For a split second, I actually consider saying yes, which makes no sense. Snapping back to my senses, I shove her hand away from me and swiftly stand up from the table. “Don’t ever touch me again,” I growl, shoving her.
Her lips curl upward as she hisses, leaning in. “Eventually, you’ll be begging me to touch you.”
I laugh. “Yeah, that’ll be the day.”
She leans back, smoothing her hands down her arms. “Just wait. After you start taking souls,” she starts to circle me, “and your mind goes to the darkest place.” She walks around, sweeping her finger on the back of my neck. “When you do things you can never erase and you can never go back, you’ll be begging me to comfort you.”
Smiling, she turns away from me and walks out of the room, her high heels clicking against the floor. “Oh, and Alex, Draven wants you in his quarters.” She lets out a spiteful laugh. “I think you might be in trouble.” She ducks her head as she steps out the doorway.
Placing my hands on the chair, I heave out a frustrated sigh. Goddamn Banshee thinks she knows me—thinks I’ll go over into the darkness—but she’s wrong. I’m stronger than that. I have too much to lose, like my love for Gemma. However, as I walk out of the room, I have to wonder why my heart feels so empty.
***
Draven’s quarters are in the opposite direction of my room. I’m supposed to go there daily, after I eat. He tells me it’s because he wants to get to know me on a personal level. Yeah, right. He just wants to keep close tabs on me and remind me of who’s in charge.
His door is closed, which is interesting. Usually it’s open. Before I knock on it, I inch closer, listening. I hear the sound of muffled voices and I wonder who else is there because, as far as I can tell, the only people here are Draven, the Banshee, and me, and the Banshee took off in the other direction.
I let my hand fall against the door, knocking with hesitancy. The voices quiet and Draven says, “Come in.”
When I open the door, I’m confused because Draven is sitting at his desk and there’s no one else in the room. There’s a thick book opened in front of him and he barely raises his head when I enter and shut the door behind me. I glance around at the bookshelves, the fireplace and the two empty chairs in the corner. Who was he talking to?
Knowing the drill, I grab one of the chairs and drag it over in front of the desk. I take a seat and wait for him to acknowledge me, picking a pen up from the desk and tapping it on my knee to channel my nervous energy.
Draven elevates his head to me and glares at the pen. “Is that really necessary?”
I shrug and toss the pen on the desk. “Maybe.” I eye the page of the book, catching the words “soul,” which appears numerous times, along with the word “evanescence”. Draven slams the book shut and shoves it to the side. Overlapping his hands, he places them on his desk and leans forward in his chair.
“Well, I’m glad to see you are showing an interest in what I am doing,” he says with an arrogant smirk. He wears that smirk a lot, just like he always wears black, and always has cigars nearby.
“Just trying to understand why you brought me here,” I say, crossing my arms.
“Enough time’s been wasted since you’ve come here,” he says simply. “You’ve been moping around, doing nothing, and it’s time for you to fulfill your debt to me, or at least, start it.”
Before I have time to say anything he snaps his fingers. One of the shelves on the wall shifts to the side and reveals a hidden doorway. The Banshee emerges and she’s not alone. Out of the thousands of people that could have walked out of a hidden door, it had to be this one.
“Stasha?” I gape at her with my jaw hanging open.
Her blonde hair is a tangled mess, her hands are covered with gloves, her dress is ripped at the bottom, and a strip of duct tape covers her mouth.
“I’m guessing there’s no need for introductions,” the Banshee says as she shoves Stasha towards the wall. Stasha trips over her feet and her shoulder slams into one of the shelves, causing books to fall to the floor.
“Why is she here?” I ask. “You know I don’t care about her, right?”
Stasha starts to cry and I feel like kind of a douche, but then I remember how she tried to kill Gemma and I really stop caring.
“I’ve been doing some research.” Draven nods at the book on his desk. “With some trial and error I’ve found a way to… How shall I put this?” he taps his chin thoughtfully. “Create my own Lost Souls.”
“Create?” I c*ck an eyebrow. “Huh?”
“A Lost Soul is created when someone has a death before their time,” he explained with an amused expression “They become lost and are easily manipulated.”
I consider what he’s saying and cringe. “So you’re telling me that you’re killing people in order to create Lost Souls?”
“Yes, well, it’s a bit more complicated and complex than that,” he says, leaning back in his chair and swiveling it from side-to-side. “If I were to just kill them they’d cross over to Helena—not me. And that’s not what we want.”
“We?” I question. “You mean, you?”
He shakes his head. “Nope, it’s you and I now. You’re going to want this eventually, just wait and see. You’ll get there.”
“You can’t just go around killing random people,” I say, knowing he can. “Just so you can add more Lost Souls to the world.”
He gets to his feet and walks over to Stasha, sketching his finger along her glove-covered hand, looking at her with his hungry, needy, soulless eyes and it’s creepy because, for a second, I feel the hungry, soulless, creepiness. “Don’t worry, Alex.” His eyes glint as he smells Stasha’s hair and grins when she trembles. “The people I choose are very special. They have extraordinary gifts, like your friend Stasha.”