Page 6 of Curse the Flame

Knowing I only have one bullet left, I aim at his chest. “Okay, pal. That’s close enough.”

He ignores me. He keeps coming, and maybe it’s because I know this is the last bullet I’ve got for now—and no desire to shoot it all of a sudden—I stay my hand even as he passes me, heading for Johnny.

He kneels beside the body, touching two fingers to Johnny’s brow. As I watch, the stranger closes Johnny’s eyes, then sighs.

“Narcissus made it through the portal,” he says quietly. “I hoped that might be enough to save him from his own fate. I thought he might’ve been saved before Death came for him.” His pale eyes flicker my way, and I jolt like I’ve been zapped. Was that… was that lightning flashing in their depths?

What the hell is going on here?

“Narcissus?” I echo though I know better. I can’t help it, though. The name… why does it seem like I should know it? “That ain’t Narcissus. That’s Johnny Wallace.”

“That was his mirrorside name. Here, in this realm, he was born to be Narcissus. And, as such, he died as Narcissus died. No thanks to you, brother.”

I scowl. “I have no brother.”

I have nothing.

He looks at me for a moment, and that same voice from before utters one name: Zeus.

I ignore him. “Who the fuck are you?”

“The better question is: who are you?” He pauses. “Death,” he says again, and his slight accent becomes all the more noticeable as he rises up and offers me a name I know all too well: “Mickey Soter.”

I keep my face closed-off. “What about him?”

“He was found floating in the East River. Two shots to the chest.” He pauses again. “You killed Poseidon.”

Posiedon? I… I know that name. I did my schooling. Poseidon… he was a Greek god. Of the seas, I think.

“Soter was rigging races over in Queens. Killed four horses and two jockeys before my boss figured it was him. He had to go.”

“Poseidon was the lord of horses,” the man retorts. “In this realm or another, he never would’ve, but false words had you turning your gun on your brother.”

A chill skitters up my spine. “I told you, buddy, I don’t have⁠—”

“Paul and Harold Brighton. Father and son. They died in a fire, and with them, the souls of Daedalus and Icarus.”

It was only fair. Teddy said they were responsible for a boarding house blaze that killed sixteen people.

“What about Sally Franklin?”

I know her, too. An innocent face with a penchant for poison. She was one I struggled with, but when I thought of her victims, I knew I had to do it. “What about her? And how do you know her?”

“Because she was Circe, and I was hoping that the powerful sorceress would help balance the scales if I could convince her to join us… but she was skittish⁠—”

“Skittish?” I spit out. “She was a murderess!”

He arches his eyebrows, and I nearly recoil when I see the look on his face. Before, it was grief. Now? It’s pity.

“She was a librarian, Hades.”

This time I do recoil. “First Death, now Hades? If you don’t know who I am, good, but don’t give me names I haven’t earned. Librarians can be murderesses, too. Anyone can be a killer.”

Ask me how I know.

He nods. “Yes, but not that one. And your other victims… someone has been playing with your head, brother. Playing with your soul. I only wished I’d found you in time to stop you before you took so many of us.”

Many of us?