Sin & Spirit (Demigod of San Francisco #4)(52)

The world around me filled with ultraviolet rays of spirit, layered on the ground, crawling up the streetlights and hovering around all of our bodies. A veritable fountain of it rained down on us from the Demigod, who was dousing us from his position across the street.

Chewing my lip, I let part of my mind run through that problem while I grabbed up the nearest bunch of enemy souls. Just as I was about to reduce them to the ground, Kieran pushed out his hand, five feet away. A blast of air ripped past me.

Wide-eyed, I glanced back. Bodies tumbled across the ground, and the souls I held popped out like champagne corks.

“Well, that was easy,” I murmured.

Kieran reached me and spared one moment to inspect my face. He nodded, as though assuring himself of something, then said, “Take out the rest of the enemy. Show them what you can do. When that’s done, let’s make a statement to that coward hiding in shadow.”

Anger and pain rang through our connection, making me hesitate, but impatience and fierce determination colored his words. I’d ask him about the emotion later. First, I needed to clear the field.

Bria jogged to catch up with me, moving stiffly, responding to the terror but not letting it run her down. The cat loped on my other side.

“This is ridiculous,” I grumbled, feeling the power pulse through me. A splashing sound attracted my attention, and I looked back to see a monstrous water tornado splash through the trees. A whirlpool on land. That was terrifying. Thank heavens Kieran was on my side.

I drew more power. As much as I could.

“If I’m going to own this horrible Soul Stealer mantle,” I said, “I should be Death upon the pale horse, not the cat lady in her jammies.”

“Whoever owned that office in the government building before you was probably more terrifying than any lunatic riding a horse,” Bria said, fighting the magic. “Don’t underestimate crazy cat ladies in their jammies.”

We neared the spread-out crowd of enemy, those whose souls I hadn’t ripped out. They were down the block. Many of them struggled to rise on broken limbs, injured by that burst of air from Kieran.

“Never own the mantle of Death,” the cat said from beside me. “You were not designed to be Death. Nor does your magic have just one purpose. You are the yin and the yang of the living world—you can save a life as easily as you can destroy it. Your Demigod is not Death, either, though he kills just as readily as you. Besides, you are not killing these people; you are simply setting their spirits free.”

“Tom-ay-to, tom-ah-to,” I said, raising my hands to make it easier to envision grabbing all their soul ribbons.

“Though if your Demigod was Death, he’d probably use a giant goldfish for a trusty steed. He’s too cheap to buy something as cool as a pale horse,” the cat murmured.

Wind from the Line rustled my hair, only it suddenly struck me that it wasn’t wind at all. It wasn’t relegated to the spirit world, only affecting me because I was working with spirit—it was the hovering spirit all around me. When I drew all the power to use in this manner, I was unknowingly messing with the spirit and creating that movement.

And if I was creating it, I could control it…





20





Kieran





A pounding ache filled Kieran’s middle, threatening to derail him. One set of emotions was missing from his Six. One complex weave of feelings had fallen away, leaving a void.

He gritted his teeth, the rage roaring through him. The need for vengeance dizzying his thoughts. But even if there was a way to kill this Demigod here, tonight, doing it would be the wrong play. It would bring down too much heat on Kieran. It would open up Alexis to more danger. No, he needed to focus on the long game. He needed to cool his rage with logic.

The backs of his eyes stung, but he clenched his jaw and sent another wave of power at nothing more than a feeling in the air, stopping the Demigod from advancing. All he needed was Alexis to make an impression with her magic, and they could send this sad excuse for a Demigod packing.

He turned back to her. Wind didn’t blow her hair to the side this time; it circled her like a windstorm. Her cotton jammies lifted at her sockless ankles and worried an undone lace on her runners, drawing the attention of the cat at her side, who promptly pounced at it. She slapped at her face, and the wind suddenly changed, blowing at her face and whipping her hair behind her. It also caught Bria, sending her back-pedaling, using her forearm to block the magic.

“She’s figured out another facet of her magic,” Zorn said, his voice strained.

“She needs practice,” Donovan said, his words hollow.

She did indeed, but even though the display was amateurish, the effect was not. The enemy screamed and clutched at their middles. One by one they fell, bonelessly sliding to the ground. And one by one the bodies rose again, twitching as they did so. The effect worried a person’s primal side, hinting at forces not known to the living. Hinting at death walking among them.

“She’s just getting started,” Kieran yelled as he turned back around.

The ground bucked and Kieran nearly lost his balance. But the power was weaker now than it had been at the onset of the attack. Even then, it had been weaker than Kieran on his worst day. The magic of invisibility clearly had its cost.

“I have found a trainer for her,” Kieran yelled through the street, in the direction of the invisible pulse of magic, “and you are a dead man!”