Heather shifted around as if trying to get more comfortable on the unforgiving ground. “I’m guessing a dude who is the ruler of this place and has been hanging out with nothing to do, for like ever, already knows we’re here.”
Jewel inclined her head in the sprite queen’s direction and then continued explaining what she’d learned. “The difference in the ones that come here—it’s not their souls. It’s their physical form. And this is like a holding place. The ruler of this realm laid claim to them while they were in either their realm or the human realm. At the moment of their death, he seized them before their souls could leave their bodies. The demons that are here, well, it wasn’t really clear how they arrived.”
“Naturally.” Heather sighed. “Something supernatural being vague about the one thing that could actually be of importance to our mortality.”
“If he’s trapped down here, how can he still take them?”
“He’s a god, Fane.” Jewel shrugged. “I mean, different than the Great Luna, but still a god. He is powerful. The book didn’t go into a ton of detail about what he was capable of, nor did it give much description about his personality or how he felt toward the supernaturals that he takes.
“I imagine, more than anything, he’s ticked off about being trapped. The book talked about a time when he could roam the earth unseen, even by supernaturals.” Jewel frowned as she considered the words in the book. “Perhaps he hasn’t taken any supernaturals since he’s been trapped. The book seemed to insinuate that those he took were in a sort of undecided state. They weren’t completely enveloped in darkness, but they hadn’t embraced the light either.”
“So what are they being held for? Are they being tortured, just, well…” Heather paused and lifted her shoulders as her head tilted to the side. “Less tortured? Oh.” She snapped her fingers. “Maybe that’s what the demons are for. Thelesstorturing. Maybe they just carry around pitchforks poking the undecided in the ass. One poke for each dumb, selfish decision made.” Then she groaned and laid her head back against the wall.
“Dare I ask what that sound was about?” Andora questioned.
“I’m just thinking about all the ass-poking pitchforks coming my way since we’re down here in what apparently is a halfway house for dumbasses who kept dipping their toes into the well of depravity. Albeit we also whipped our feet right out when we realized that what we were doing was wrong, and we didn’t really want to be evil buttwipes.”
“Hmm.” Andora nodded. “That is something to think about. And I’ll admit that I’m now quite curious about your life before joining the supernatural community.”
“Guess we won’t know about any of it, pitchfork-carrying demons included, until we come across some,” Jewel answered.
“If they have physical bodies, wouldn’t that mean they have to eat and drink?”
Jewel noticed Fane’s hands kept clenching and unclenching, and he was no longer sitting cross-legged on the ground. At some point he’d gotten into a crouched position and swayed slightly back and forth. He looked edgy and agitated.
“It makes sense,” Jewel agreed. She dropped her eyes, careful to keep her position submissive.
“Why are the hairs on my arms standing on end?” Heather rolled onto her knees, resting her butt on her calves. “I can feel power rubbing against me. It’s sort of like Kale’s but much, much stronger. Is no-name-ruler-dude headed our way? Or pitchfork demons?”
Andora stood, her movements as smooth as liquid. Her robes dropped down and swayed around her as she stepped closer to the blind healer. She reached down and took Heather’s arm and pulled her up. “Fane’s wolf is leaking power like a faucet,” Andora explained.
“Are you okay, Fane?” Jewel, too, had gotten to her feet. She dusted off her pants and glanced briefly at her mother’s apparition.
“I keep trying to reach out for Jacquelyn,” he said through clenched teeth. “Every now and then I get a brief feeling. Like her hand is just out of reach.”
Jewel hadn’t tried to contact Dalton, and now hearing that Fane had been trying to seek out the connection between he and his mate, she felt guilty. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to feel him. Jewel was just terrified of what she’d feel if their bond did connect. She didn’t know if she could bear his scorn or anger. Though he had every right to those emotions and much more. Like the coward she was, she ignored the bond inside of her.
“Let’s get moving.” Fane began walking.
Andora kept Heather’s hand on her arm as they followed the alpha. Jewel brought up the rear, as the ghost, or whatever she was of her mother, brushed up against her periodically. Jewel wondered if the soul, or what part of it might be her mother, or something else would be able to stay in the Realm of the Dead. If this wasn’t where she belonged, wouldn’t she be forced away?
Jewel ignored those thoughts and decided to see if there was anything else she could remember from the book she’d read. Anything that could help them. Perhaps she could redeem herself and not end up in this place once she died.
Chapter 10
“You’re born, you live, you make mistakes, you do some good things, and maybe you do some crappy things—like unintentionally become a witch, kill some people, align yourself with a sadistic sprite, and plunge all of your friends and family into mortal peril. And then you die. If you’re lucky. If you’re not lucky, you wander around a place that isn’t quite hell wondering if you will ever actuallygetto die.” ~ Jewel
The group's footsteps echoed faintly in the eerie silence of the Realm of the Dead, the sound swallowed almost immediately by the oppressive stillness. Jewel trailed behind, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, trying to ignore the icy tendrils of dread that seemed to seep into her bones with every step. Her mother’s ghostly form hovered at her side, its presence both familiar and alien, and every so often, that phantom chill brushed against her skin and made her shiver. It wasn’t just the cold. It was the weight of everything—the guilt, the memories, the unspoken pain.
Jewel wasn’t sure what was worse: the oppressive quiet of this cursed place or the fact that her mother’s specter didn’t speak or show any sort of emotion. The apparition simply stared, its hollow eyes boring into her. Jewel didn’t know whether it was a comfort or a torment. Maybe both. Maybe neither.
Ahead of her, Fane’s shoulders were rigid, his movements sharp and purposeful. He’d said they needed to move, but Jewel could feel the frustration radiating off him. He was a wolf separated from his mate, and Jewel knew what that kind of separation could do. She’d felt it herself every time she’d been torn away from Dalton, even when it wasn’t against her will, but an active choice she’d made when she’d shut down the bond. And now, even though the bond still hummed faintly in her chest, she couldn’t bring herself to reach for it. She was too afraid of what she’d find—or worse— what she wouldn’t.
Fane’s agitation was palpable, his wolf leaking power into the air like a storm brewing on the horizon. It prickled against her skin and mingled with Andora’s steady presence and Heather’s restless energy. The sprite queen walked with her usual grace, her movements fluid and composed, but Jewel caught the faintest furrow of her brow every time they passed another stretch of barren, featureless landscape. Even Andora was unnerved.
Heather, on the other hand, was doing what she always did: talking. Filling the silence with her sharp, sarcastic humor, even as the tension weighed heavier with every step they took.
“So,” Heather said, breaking the quiet, “any bets on how long it takes before something jumps out of the shadows and tries to kill us? I’m giving it … ten minutes. Tops. We’ve already been here way too long without a single soul, pun intended, making itself known.”
