Grave Dance (Alex Craft, #2)(97)

Like I don’t know that. I slouched lower in the seat. Of course, at this rate, there was a good chance I wouldn’t show either.

“What makes you sure the accomplice is in Faerie?” I asked. After al , it was possible that a fae living in the mortal realm was working with a witch who found an old grimoire, maybe a book passed down through a family.

Then an even better question hit me. “And how are they communicating with the reaper?” The only mortals who could see col ectors at any time other than the moment of their death were grave witches. There might have been some varieties of fae with the ability, but I wasn’t sure of that.

Al three col ectors went stil .

They glanced at one another, not saying a thing. The car hit a bump, jostling me. They stil hadn’t spoken by the time I resituated myself. From my lifelong acquaintance with Death, I knew that a col ector couldn’t be pressured into speaking, so I glanced out the window, trying to figure out where Bel ’s goons were taking me. We appeared to stil be headed south, out of the city. The gray man shook his head, one quick twist of his neck, but the raver shrugged.

Final y Death turned to me.

Final y Death turned to me.

“We . . . lost one of our own. He was hunting for the accomplice and was on Faerie’s doorstep when it happened.”

L o s t? What could hurt, let alone destroy, a soul collector? I chewed at my bottom lip. “How is that possible?

You guys aren’t physical.” Wel , to most people, me not included.

And maybe to the two planeweavers belonging to the high court. Or possibly an awoken legend. I thought about the tear and the fact that al the grass inside the circle had been withered, as if brushed by the land of the dead.

Counting the facts that the magic used originated in three realms: mortal, faerie, and spirit; and that a col ector had been physical enough to be kil ed, it al added up to someone touching multiple planes.

In a voice quiet enough that I hoped the goons in the front seat wouldn’t hear, I laid out those thoughts to the col ectors. They looked surprised by my conclusion, as if they hadn’t considered it.

“I cannot discount that possibility, but there is another explanation that is more likely,” Death said after I finished.

“There is a relic. It was either lost or hidden in Faerie centuries ago, but the last time it surfaced, it al owed mortals and our kind to meet in—” He paused. “A fold in realities. Sort of a between space where both touch.”

“So you think this accomplice found the relic?”

I must have asked the question louder than I meant to because the goon in the passenger seat turned around again. “Who are you talking to?” he asked. “And why are you sitting like that?”

Yeah, it had to be pretty strange to look squished when nothing appeared to be around you. Not much I could do about it, though. I shrugged. “I’m uncomfortable. Could you take the cuffs off?”

He snorted and shook his head. “We’l be there soon.”

Then, thankful y, he turned back toward the front.

Then, thankful y, he turned back toward the front.

Death readjusted so he could bend his arm behind my head. He rubbed his thumb in smal circles along my spine, massaging the sore muscles. I nearly moaned.

“Yes, we believe the relic has resurfaced,” the gray man said as if the goon’s interruption hadn’t occurred. “It transcends several realities, but it causes ripples, smal disturbances.”

“What does the relic look like?”

The col ectors exchanged another long glance. Oh, come on, they want me to go looking for someone who found a relic, but they won’t even tell me what it is?

The raver final y shrugged. “It has changed through time, depending on who used it and for what reasons.”

“And now someone is using it to kil ?” Would that make it a weapon of some sort?

“The situation is more dire than a dozen untimely deaths,”

Death said. “From the evidence we’ve seen from the accomplice’s ritual sites—”

Sites, plural. Which meant there were more than the police knew about.

“—we believe they are attempting to use the relic as a focus to open permanent paths between our planes. You have looked across the planes. I’m sure you understand the possible implication of the space between realities becoming too thin.”

I swal owed, or tried to, but my mouth had suddenly gone dry. If the Aetheric was always in reality and anyone could grab magic, burn themselves out like the skimmers . . . I shivered. And the land of the dead? The world as we knew it would be changed forever.

“That’s why they want me?” I whispered.

Death nodded. “With your ability to merge planes and the relic as a focus . . . But, Alex, they may want you, but they don’t need you. The last ritual was close. The next may succeed.”

Which would destroy the world. I thought back to what Which would destroy the world. I thought back to what Fred had said about the world decaying. Let that be a warning and not an unchangeable outcome. “We’d better hope the accomplice shows at the bridge.”

And speaking of a bridge, the car crossed the river and then turned onto an old gravel road. I frowned. The only thing in this direction was a cemetery.

“We wil be at the bridge,” the gray man said. “But in case the accomplice does not show . . .”