Page 30 of Her Soul for a Crown
“And the others?”
“It will be faster with four.”
Suspicious eyes narrowed. “All this for atonement? No other scheme, Blood Yakka?”
“It was my fault, as you say my Lord. Is it not, then, my burden?”
Wessamony nodded. “Indeed. You have your bargain. With conditions.”
Reeri held in the relief. “Of course, my Lord.”
“Bring me the Bone Blade by the Maha Equinox in four weeks.” Wessamony smiled.
Or all will join the others in unending torment, Reeri thought, as their Lord had threatened thousands of times before.
“Else you shall be the Yakkas’ tormentor.” Wessamony’s horns flared bright. “For eternity.”
Reeri’s shadows coiled. The faces of his brethren, enthralled in suffering, his hand on a whip, his nails sinking into—
The fault lies with you, Reeri. Never forget that.
“Have we a bargain?” Wessamony asked.
Reeri shook loose the nightmare.
It would not come to pass. He would find the blade. He would kill their Lord.
“Yes.” Reeri brought the glowing shadow offering close and whispered, “Daughter of Earth, your prayer has been heard.”
12
The candles snuffed out in a breeze.
All except one. The door slammed shut, and wind swirled around Anula’s feet, tinkling the bells on the edge of her sari, whipping her hair across her face. Pulse quickening, Anula took a step back. Perhaps she shouldn’t have come. Perhaps this wasn’t the way.
Smoke swirled, thickening and thrumming into a form. A face more shadow than cloud floated before her. Dark, insubstantial features sharpened into a chin, cheekbones. If it had been a statue or a human, she would’ve called it handsome.
Saffron eyes flashed open.
Anula stepped back, breath caught between lungs and throat.
“Daughter of Earth.” The shadow spoke, deep and wispy, there and yet far away. “Your prayer has been heard. What request do you seek?”
Its features pulsed, shifting slightly. A chill prickled her skin. The shadow was no statue, no man, those eyes not truly eyes at all. It could never be handsome.
Because it was a Yakka.
The knowing settled deep. But this was wrong. Yakkas were not shadows. They weren’t ever seen, not since they’d walked the Earth centuries ago. Amma would have told her if she’d seen them, Auntie Nirma, too, if only to prove they’d been right.
Which begged the question: “Why are you here?”
The shadow cocked its head. “I am the Blood Yakka, Reeri, answering the offering of a soul. Unless you are not the offerer.”
The faint sound of singing sneaked under the door. It skittered up Anula’s arms. The usurper was celebrating. “Yes, I made the offering. But…”
“You distrust me,” the shadow finished her sentence solemnly.
“Devils aren’t known for being trustworthy. How do I know you’re who you say you are?”
