Page 56 of Veil of Death and Shadow

“You,” I chuckled, “imbibing?” We both knew that he hoarded his power like a dragon hoarded gold. “And I did—hung with the kid for a few minutes, brought him to the club,” the mortal spot—Incendiary—tapped into the same power we fed on, which meant that it gave us a bit of an extra boost. Useful, for a night like that one, especially with the veil between this world and theirs thinner than usual. “Then I went on my own way. Said I’d take him there; didn’t say I was signing up for babysitting duty.”

“Just,” Thorne’s nostrils flared as he studied me, about as close as he got to keeping that rage of his in check, “get your shit together. And do it quickly.”

“Yeah, y—” I hissed as a shot of pain sliced through my arm, coalescing in my veins, the sensation sharp and burning. One of the few things we could fully feel in our world—pain. Fucking figured.

Like I said, this place made masochists of us all.

I dropped the remaining inch of the cigarette to the ground, then stubbed it out with my boot.

The tattoos along my arm flared, cutting down my hand to the silver rings.

“A charge?” Thorne asked. “Figures the fates would take pity on you.”

Pity? Perhaps. Right now, my throbbing head was an afterthought, overshadowed entirely by the pain of the call. That was one form of pity, I supposed.

I shot him a sarcastic salute and then left him to his general dickishness, chasing the twisting pull towards wherever I was being called.

The Between was a strange land—everywhere and nowhere at once—and, generally, when our power was drained, we could only make our way back to the realm of the living when we were tethered to a life there.

In the state I was in, I didn’t anticipate getting another charge any time soon—and, without one, it might have otherwise been months before I could find my way back there, even in my transient form. Right now, the only way for me to leave was through a door located in the middle of a lake on the outskirts of the Order’s grounds. It was a dangerous path to carve, with so many of the dead around, but I was generally pretty decent at staying under the radar when I wanted to. When you were around for as long as I’d been, you got used to finding the small pockets of protection.

Besides, the danger was always worse upon return when the job was done, than it was when leaving.

Tethers were controlled by the fates. They weren’t transferable by theft. Not until you were paid out could the power be taken.

Still, I put my hood on—better if I wasn’t recognized by anyone while in this state.

I waded through the water, until I was waist deep, the door’s entryway in front of me. My arm throbbed as I stared at the familiar, unremarkable wood. It sensed where we were going, brought us to our charge.

My veins pulsed with the need to unite with whichever sorry shite I’d have to guide.

The door was a strange bit of magic, one very few of us understood. Then again, the Order never saw fit to allow us to understand. We were only given the barest scraps of information to survive on.

Without any pomp or preamble, I opened it, stepping into the technicolor vibrancy on the other side.

The transition was disorienting, but I gathered my whereabouts more quickly than I usually would.

Mostly because I recognized this place. A small, familiar building stood down the block, my fingers tingling with awareness that the other end of the tether was near.

It was unusual, getting sent to the same area in such quick succession—but who was I to question the fates or their games?

Maybe Thorne was right. Maybe I had earned their pity. Maybe I’d even get a glimpse ofheragain while seeking out my charge.

I moved through the world with ease, passing unnoticed by the handful of people walking about.

The world was so different like this than it had been when I’d actually been a part of it, gotten to interact with it—to pretend, for a moment, that it still belonged to me.

Now, I was nothing but a trespasser here, one that existed on the margins, invisible to them all.

I stopped outside the door, looking in through the window.

The place was busier than it had been last week—the small, dilapidated building that passed for a hospital in these times was overrun and deeply understocked.

I scanned the faces, waiting for the sense of rightness I would get once I spotted my charge.

And when it happened, when I locked in, I nearly choked on the shock of it.

There, amidst the chaos, was a woman.

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