Page 27 of Soothsayer

“I’m not,” I said numbly. God, I wasn’t. “Can I speak to Sören?”

“It distressed him to emerge from his sleep,” the landvættir demurred, as if it wasn’t thethingthat was fucking distressing Sören so much. “Perhaps later, if you earn it. If you fulfill your promises before Egilsson does. Now, do we have a bargain?”

“Yes.” Yeah, we had a bargain. I’d been in tighter places—not lately, but I had. I could get through this. I’d find the loopholes. I’d figure this out. In the meantime, I just had to survive a terminally curious, body-snatching Icelandic spirit who wanted to fuckingroad-tripwith me. “You’ve got a deal.”

“As do you.” The thing in Sören’s body leaned forward and kissed me, his lips cold but somehow refreshing, reminding me that I was parched. “Sealed.”

“Great.” I tugged uselessly at my bonds. “Do you think you could let me go, then?”

“Certainly.” Sören—it was using his body, I had to get used to calling it that or I’d slip up along the road—reached around my back and with one firm yank, pulled the jumper cables in two. He unwound the loops securing my wrists, and I almost collapsed with the sudden pain.

“And a boon,” he murmured. “To show good faith.” He set his hands on my shoulders and ran them slowly down my arms, making my flesh crawl with cold. After he brushed over my fingertips and released them, though, the pain was gone.Allthepain was gone, even the pain from my bullet wound. I pulled my sleeve back and stared dumbly at the unbroken skin.

“That’s…quite a boon.”

“Yes,” Sören agreed. “A gift for my love’s beloved.”

I stared at him. “Youlovehim?”

“He is mine. Of course I love him.”

“But he was screaming.”

Sören shrugged. “I never said it was easy to be mine.”

Holy shit. I’d made a deal with a psychopathic spirit from the black fucking lagoon. “We need to go,” I managed at last.

“Of course. One moment.” He reached behind himself and handed over my—my phone? And it was on?

“What did you do?” I asked as I looked at the screen. The connection was live. “Who is this?”

“Ólafur Egilsson.”

“He’s beenlistening inthis whole time?” I exclaimed.

“Of course. It wouldn’t be fair, otherwise. He must know the terms of the competition.” Sören grinned at me. “I’ll wait in the car.”

I barely restrained the urge to throw the phone at him as he walked away. I should just hang up; I should turn it off and take the battery out and get rid of it, but…

I turned up the sound and lifted it to my ear. “Hello?”

“Cillian Kelly.” Oh, I knew that voice. He always sounded so reasonable, just before he ripped your heart out. “You stole my son.”

“If he didn’t want to be stolen, he wouldn’t have let me take him,” I said, forcing myself to speak. “You should have taken better care of him.”

“So I see. I’ll have to remedy that. I suggest you run, boy. Don’t mess with powers you don’t understand. If you leave now, I might not hunt you down.”

It was too late for more bargains. “Nah, I think I’ll give beating you a shot first.”

“If that’s the way you want it.” Egilsson sounded more amused than anything. “In that case, enjoy the rest of your very short life.” He hung up. I stared at the phone for a long moment.

Beeeepbeepbeep!The blare of the horn jolted me to life. Sören was bored. Great.

I’d be lucky to survive the rest of the night.

Chapter Fifteen

It should have taken about eighteen hours to drive from Illinois to the tiny town of Santa Rosa, New Mexico, home of the Blue Hole and, occasionally, Bobby Garcia. Bobby was the man I needed to see about nature magic, so New Mexico was where we had to go. I’d trawl the whole fucking desert if I had to in order to find him. One really long day, maybe two if we were wasting time sleeping and eating, and then we’d be there.

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