She didn’t have to say anything. Lore swept her into his arms and held her as she collapsed into sobs.

Twenty-three

Idess didn’t waste much time crying. She’d destroyed her brother, and somehow she’d have to deal with that, but both she and Lore were bleeding badly, and they had to tell two parents that their son was dead.

“We have to go,” she croaked, and Lore nodded.

She flashed them to the hospital parking lot. Together they entered UG, and inside, found Eidolon cleaning up one of the multiple messes scattered around the emergency department; smashed equipment, overturned chairs, pills scattered on the floor. The spirits had been active.

Eidolon jogged toward Lore and Idess, slowing before he reached them, his devastated expression telling Idess that he’d read theirs.

“I’m sorry,” Lore rasped.

For a long moment, she thought Eidolon was going to break down. He swallowed repeatedly, his eyes bloodshot and liquid. But when Lore’s blood began to drip to the floor, he shifted into doctor mode.

“Come with me.” He left them no choice but to follow him into an exam room, where he gestured to Idess to sit on the bed, and for Lore to take a seat. “I assume the bastard is dead,” he said, as he gloved up.

“Very.” Lore tucked his injured arm protectively against his body. “Take care of Idess first.”

Before she could protest, Eidolon took her wrist. “Keep pressure on your wound,” he said to Lore. Idess clenched her teeth as he began the painful process of healing her cut, and when he was done, he gently wiped away the blood and covered the mostly healed gash with a gauze pad and tape.

Eidolon sank into a chair across from his brother. “Did you get… the remains?”

Idess closed her eyes and offered a prayer for the small boy her brother had killed.

“I’m going to get them the second I’m done here.” Lore said grimly.

Very gently, Eidolon rested Lore’s arm on his thigh. “You did a number on this,” he muttered. “Sword?”

“Wow,” Lore said, as Idess moved to him and took his good hand in hers. “You’re good.”

“I see a lot of this,” Eidolon said wryly. “Usually on Wraith. You ready?”

“Yeah.” Gazing up at her, Lore squeezed her hand. “Yeah, I am.”

Something in her chest lurched. Lore usually suffered alone and didn’t rely on anyone, and he probably preferred it that way. But he was taking strength and comfort from her.

Eidolon’s dermoire lit up, and when Eidolon was done, he wiped away the blood.

Idess sank down next to Lore just as the doctor’s pager went off. He checked it, cursed soundly.

“What is it?” Lore asked.

“Wargs,” he said. “There are two incoming via ambulance, and three coming through the Harrowgate.” Eidolon closed his eyes and blew out a long breath. “This makes eight in a matter of days. We have an epidemic on our hands.” He opened his eyes and gave Lore a look that chilled Idess to the bone. “Does Sin have any healing abilities at all? Any reversal powers?”

“No, why?” But Idess had a feeling she knew, and she saw in Lore’s face that he did, too. “Oh, God. Sin. She started it, didn’t she?”

“Yeah.”

Lore cursed. “We can’t catch a break around here, can we?”

Eidolon adjusted his stethoscope around his neck. “I’d like to say that this is unusual, but the last couple of years have been nothing but chaos. And it’s only going to get worse if we can’t get rid of Roag and his merry band of ghosts.”

Stupid bastard! You can’t get rid of me. You made me!

Idess wrenched her head around to the doorway, where Roag was lurking, hood shoved back to reveal a hideous, deformed face. His skin was a mass of dark scar tissue stretched tight over bone that was, in places, visible. Insanity gleamed in his dead eyes.

“Actually,” Idess said quietly, “I think I can do something about that.”

You can help me? Please. This curse… it is agony you can’t comprehend. I did nothing to deserve it.

“You hired your brother to kill his own brothers,” she said to him. “Your brothers.”

“Ah… Idess?” Lore’s voice came from behind her, but she held up her hand to stop both him and Eidolon.

“Did you hear me, Roag? You wanted your own brothers dead.”

Because they burned me alive! He tore off his cloak, and she nearly gasped at the shriveled, twisted wreck that was his body. And now I hurt. I starve. I thirst. Nothing relieves me. Please, help me. His lips peeled back in the most evil grin she’d ever seen. Slaughter my brothers and their families so their blood runs like a river through the streets. Gut them. Rend their limbs from their bodies and their eyes from their sockets!

His laughter pierced her like a lance carved of ice. “You want help? Really?” She grabbed Roag by the arm. Though he wasn’t solid to her, his energy clung to her like static electricity. “I can put you out of your misery. Absolutely. I don’t have the power to destroy souls, but I know someone who does.”

She dragged him out of the hospital and into the parking lot. Dimly, she heard Lore and Eidolon calling her name, but she kept going. Her brother had torn this family apart, and she couldn’t do anything about that, but she certainly could do something about this.
* * *

Inhaling deeply, Idess flashed to the realm where her father resided, where only his children and his griminions were allowed. She appeared on the steps of an ancient Greek temple, a great ebony building flanked by black pillars and set amongst other black structures. Once, she’d run her hand over a wall, only to have it come away covered with a sootlike substance. Where her hand had been, dirty white marble peeked through the oily grit.

The massive buildings and pillars and statues had once been pristine white. Now they groaned under the weight of taint and corruption. The entire realm was a giant replica of Athens, but in the dark. Athens, in her nightmares.

Still maintaining a grip on Roag, whose struggles were mere whispers against her skin, she climbed the steps and entered through the double doors big enough to allow King Kong passage. Inside, polished ebony floors stretched endlessly. Grim, dark statues of demons and humans in pain lined the walls, and in the center of the great room, a fountain ran red into a dark pool at the base.

She dragged Roag down a mazelike corridor, making dozens of lefts and rights, and finally, two of her brothers, one of whom she vaguely recognized, opened the huge iron door at the end.

Idess was nearly blinded by the bright lights blasting through the opening. The entire realm was set in a back-drop of gloom, but Azagoth liked his color, and, she noted with a wince, he apparently liked his Beatles music.

He turned to her from where he was standing before an archway, where griminions paraded by, leading the souls of dead demons. The moment he turned, the griminions halted in their tracks, unwilling to move forward to their final destination, Sheoul-gra, until their boss had seen and approved every soul brought before him.

Azagoth was the epitome of male beauty. Appearing to be in his early thirties, he was tall, with black hair, chiseled cheekbones, and a strong, square jaw. He wore a button-down emerald shirt that matched his eyes, and black, slim-fitting pants that emphasized long legs. In his hand, he had a cup of Starbucks coffee.

“Daughter,” he said, his smile one that would make any human woman swoon but that only looked cold to Idess. “It’s been centuries.” He cast a glance at Roag, who, once inside the room, had become solid. “And you brought a guest.”

“Where am I?” Roag shouted. “What have you done, you stupid cunt?”

Idess released Roag and wondered how many showers she’d have to take before her skin stopped crawling from the feel of his touch. He careened around the room, but when it became clear that there was no way out, he rushed her. He swiped at her, but his clawlike hand passed harmlessly through her body.

“As you can see, you have no power here.” Azagoth casually crossed his arms over his chest. “Or anywhere.”

Roag’s eyes bulged as he stared at his hand. “Am I… dead?”

“Unfortunately not,” Idess said. “Why am I here?” The demon rounded on Azagoth. “Who are you?”

Oh, this promised to be good.

Her father had a flair for the dramatic, and he allowed a few moments of tense silence to tick by before saying, “I’m the being you know as the Grim Reaper.”

Roag made a strangled noise. “Wh-what do you want with me?”

“I don’t know. Daughter?” Azagoth moved to his desk, a modern oak monstrosity next to a fireplace that was lit, but didn’t give off heat. His chamber was freezing. He took a seat, kicked his feet up on his desk, and waited for her to say something.

“Father,” she said, prepping herself for the formal speech he preferred, “I humbly request that you put an end to this vile creature. I would have done so myself on the earthly realm, but he is cursed to formlessness, and has no body to kill.”

Azagoth put down his coffee. “Truly? Interesting curse.”

“Interesting?” Roag screeched. “It is suffering of the cruelest kind!”

“Please,” Idess scoffed. “Hearing you whine about cruelty, given what you’ve done in your life, makes me sick.”

Roag sneered at her. “So you brought me here to kill me. Do you think that scares me? Do you think I’m pissing my pants? Death is welcome.”

No doubt death was much preferable to the fate he was suffering. After death, he’d be taken to Sheoul-gra, where he’d hang out with other demons until he was reborn.

“Father, I don’t want him dead.” She stepped forward, shoving Roag aside. “I want him destroyed.”

Roag’s gasp echoed through the room, and in the tunnel, even the griminions shuddered. “You can’t do that,” he rasped. “You have no right!”