Page 7 of Blood

Why do I feel as if he’s saying more than what I hear?

Instinctively, I lean forward until I can cup his cheek. I honestly don’t know why. I’m not sure I’ve ever touched Alex like this before. I can’t help but revel in the rough stubble grating against my fingertips like sandpaper. When did he last shave?

“I’m sure it will be fine,” I promise him, trying to infuse my voice with optimism that I don’t truly feel. “I’m the purest chick that has ever purified this pure world.”

Alex gives me a strange look but chooses not to comment. Instead, he simply stays there, his cheek cupped in the palm of my hand, his eyes intent on my face, the trench between his eyebrows deepening.

It’s me who pulls away first, my heart rioting in my chest and my stomach somersaulting.

“You know, if Hux was here and discovered what I was up to, he’d shit a brick, beat the fuck out of you and the entire monster council, and then shit out an even bigger brick.” I try for a smile, but it wobbles slightly when the enormity of what I’m about to do crashes over me.

“Maybe I shouldn’t bring you here,” Alex admits. “But I’m not going to put you in bubble wrap, Violet. You’re a big girl who can make your own choices.”

“I’m apparently a fucking queen,” I correct, purposely making my tone sound haughty and imperious.

God, Mason would have a field day if he could see me now...

My chest constricts at the thought of him. Before I can even think about what I’m doing, I’m leaning forward once more and asking, “Why isn’t he here? Mason, I mean. Why isn’t his spirit here?” Desperation courses through me like wildfire. I would give anything just to see him again, to hear his voice, to watch him fiddle with the gray beanie he always wears. “I mean, we know Zeus is eating the souls that have been sent to Mount Olympus, so Mason wouldn’t choose to go there if he had a choice. And he’s too...amazing to ever be sent to Hell. So, where is he?”

Worry eats at my chest like locusts.

Why isn’t he here?

Has Zeus done something to his soul?

The mere thought has intense anger eating into my flesh like acid. I’ll murder him again and again and again if I discover he’s done something to Mason’s soul. It’s the last piece I have of him.

Tears hold me at gunpoint as I meet Alex’s helpless gaze.

“I told you before, Violet baby, that I don’t know. Souls are...tricky things.”

“What do you mean?” A culmination of pain, grief, and anger swirls in my chest like a whirlpool. I know I shouldn’t take out my ire on Alex, yet my voice comes out sharper than I intend it to. I work to modulate my volume and settle my rampant heartbeat.

“I mean that there are three stages to every soul that chooses not to cross into the afterlife,” he begins. “There’s stage one. This occurs shortly after a person—or monster—passes away. The soul usually doesn’t have any memory of who they were when they were alive. And if they do, the memories are indistinct at best, almost as if they’re trying to recall a dream. During this stage, the soul is invisible to everyone, including necromancers. As the soul begins to gain their memories, they also gain more powers. This is when they transition into stage two. During this time, the soul is able to appear intermittently to necromancers, but only for short periods of time. They can learn to talk, communicate, and even touch objects. And that’s when they reach the final stage—stage three. If a soul is strong enough, they’ll be able to appear to anyone at any time. They can touch objects and people and can communicate with relative ease. But a soul has to be immensely powerful to reach this particular stage...or have a strong tether to keep them planted in the real world.”

“So, you believe Mason is in stage one?” The knowledge stings with the keenness of a wasp. Is he here now? Floating aimlessly around, unable to remember who he is and where he came from? Unable to remember who I am? Pain trickles deep into the root of my soul.

Once again, Alex hesitates, and I have a feeling there’s something he’s not telling me. I swear my fucking eye begins to twitch so hard, it’s in danger of falling out.

“Alex...” I warn.

“Violet...” He purses his lips before relenting. His shoulders seem to sag downward, and he collapses farther into the seat. “I said it before, but I don’t think you understood. A soul doesn’t remember who they are when they first enter this plane of existence. And the call to enter the afterlife is so compelling...”

Darkness pervades my soul at the implication. It’s suddenly hard to breathe, as if instead of oxygen, the air is made of tiny razor blades.

“So, Mason could’ve chosen to cross over?” I whisper.

And if he chose to cross over...

Then Zeus would’ve eaten him.

My heart’s nothing but a bloody slump of meat in my chest. Fear simmers just beneath the surface. Fear and anger. So much anger, it’s in danger of bursting out of me like wildfire.

“How do we make sure that doesn’t happen?” I ask desperately, hating Zeus. Hating this world. Hating myself.

“It’s what I said before,” Alex begins softly. “If a soul has a strong tether, then it’ll make it easier for them to stay on the material plane. They might not know why they’re here, but they’ll be less hesitant to fade away or pass on to the next life. They’ll want to stay, even if they don’t remember the reasons for it.”

“Do you think Mason...?” I clear my throat, trying to hide the tears that have begun to well in my eyes. “Do you think that I...?”

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