Mercy Burns

“You never told me they were cowards.”

“Mercy—”

“Don’t bother,” I cut in, taking another step back and steeling myself against the rising ache in my heart. An ache that pierced like a knife. “You may not be afraid of death, Damon, but you’re sure as hell afraid of life.”

This time he did reach for me, but I slapped his hand away. “Nothing you say or do can alter the truth. You’re walking away to protect yourself, not me. You’re afraid to love because you’re afraid to lose. That’s cowardice, Damon, nothing more.”

“Mercy, that’s not true. What I do—”

“Is an excuse. One you can keep on believing, but don’t expect anyone else to.” I took another step, my eyes stinging with tears I refused to let fall. “Goodbye, Damon.”

With that, I turned and walked away. The air was filled with turmoil—his and mine—but he didn’t move, he didn’t stop me, and I kept on walking.

My dreams might be ashes and my world might be falling apart, but I still had the soul of a friend to save and less than twenty-four hours left to find the point where our car had gone off the road.

That, at least, gave me something to focus on.

I could worry about the rest of it later.

Chapter Fourteen

The air began to hum with power long before the first vestiges of night began to creep through the day. Energy flitted across my skin—little sparks of power that were very visible in the fading brightness that surrounded me. There were ghosts here, too—other souls who’d died along this stretch of road. They were little more than fragile wisps of humanity whose pain, bewilderment, and sorrow infused me, making me want to cry. But there was nothing I could do to help or save them.

They were neither kin nor friends, and the task of saving their souls was not on my shoulders.

I was here to help Rainey move on.

I took a deep breath, drawing in the power of dusk, wishing it had the strength to ease the ache in my heart. But I doubted anything could do that right now.

I studied the horizon, waiting, as the hum of power grew and intensified, and the slivers of red and gold streaked the sky—bright flags of color that heralded peace for Rainey.

As dusk’s energy flooded my body, the power in the air framed the ghosts around me, briefly illuminating their forms, giving them shape if not substance. Tears stung my eyes. Rainey was there somewhere.

“Rainey Carmichael, I call on your soul and your spirit and ask that you stand before me this night.”

My voice was little more than a whisper, but the power surged and danced around me, filling the sunset with its beauty. Wispy fingers of energy stirred amid the gathered ghosts, searching, feeling, until they swirled around one wispy form and urged her forward. Her face was little more than a radiant blur, but I knew it was Rainey. I could feel her—in my heart, and in my soul.

I took a deep, shuddering breath, and continued with the ritual.

“May the gods of sun and sky and air bear witness to the fact that those who killed you have paid the price.” As I spoke, her form seemed to grow brighter and brighter, as if the sun itself was finally burning her, taking the flesh that no longer existed and freeing her soul from its constraints. “With the power of this dusk, I free you. May the gods guide and protect you as you continue your journey, Rainey.”

The radiance and power in the air seemed to reach a crescendo and, just for a moment, I heard the sound of laughter. Rich, carefree, and joyous.

Rainey, free at last.

Tears stung my eyes, and my throat was so constricted I could barely speak the final words. “May you find the peace and happiness in the forever lands that you could not find in this, my friend.”

The streaming fingers of sunlight seemed to twirl and dance, as if in answer, and then they were gone, lost to the shadows of the oncoming night.

The radiance caressing my skin died, taking with it the underlying hum of energy. All that remained were the fading remnants of ghosts who would never find the release that Rainey had.

She was free, but she was also gone from my life forever.

I closed my eyes, took a deep shuddering breath, then slowly turned around and headed back to the hotel, where I finally let go of the pent-up hurt and anger, and grieved for the friend I’d lost.

A month later, just about everything had returned to normal. I’d gone back to work and found myself a new place to live—albeit one empty of everything I’d spent a lifetime collecting. Instead, my new place had little more than secondhand furniture and some basics borrowed from friends until the damn insurance people decided to pay me.

But the barren apartment was a constant reminder of everything I’d lost, and it just added weight to the loneliness that was crushing me.

My upbringing might have been rough at times, but the one good thing about it was the fact that I’d never really been alone. I’d had my brother, and I’d had Rainey, and I’d grown up used to having them there when I needed them. Now Rainey was gone forever, and Trae nowhere to be found. It felt like there was a chunk of me missing, and even now, long after I prayed for her soul and sent her on her final journey, I still found myself picking up the phone to talk to her. I kept expecting her to walk through the door with her wild red hair and big toothy grin.

But all that was nothing compared to the ache in my heart. Maybe it was even worse, because Damon was alive, and some small part of me refused to give up hope, even though I told myself a thousand times a day to get over it—to get over him—and move on.

And yet there were times when I thought I felt him close by. Times when the faintest whisper of a warm and familiar presence ran through my mind, teasing my senses and making my heart leap in hope. But no matter how often I looked, there was never any sign of him, and I knew it was probably nothing more than an overactive imagination combined with that never-say-die sliver of hope.

Life, I thought, sipping my coffee as I stared out the window, watching sunset flare across the building opposite and turning its windows a brilliant shade of bronze, was a bitch. Just this once, it could have given me the fairy tale instead of the nightmare.

The doorbell rang sharply in the silence. I jumped, and the coffee rocked over the sides of the cup, splashing across my hand. I cursed softly, then placed the cup on the sill and shook my hand dry as I ran over to the intercom.

“Yes?”

“So, would you like to explain how, exactly, you managed to burn down my apartment?”

The voice was warm and rich and familiar, and a grin split my lips. “That’s a rather long story, brother dearest. And where the hell have you been? I’ve been trying to get hold of you for over a month.”

“I got sidetracked by a pretty lady in distress. I’ve brought her along so that you can meet her.”

That raised my eyebrows. Pretty ladies and my brother went together like bread and butter, but never before had he gone to the trouble of actually introducing me to one. This had to be serious.

I pressed the buzzer to let them in. “You’d better come on up, then. Apartment 408.”

I walked into the kitchen to turn on the coffeemaker—one of the few luxuries I refused to live without—then walked across to the door and opened it.

My brother, all rugged good looks, blond hair, and sunshiney disposition, walked into the room and gave me the biggest hug of my life.

“I’ve been worried about you,” he said, once he’d finally put me down. His blue eyes studied me critically. “Are you okay? You look tired.”

“I’m fine,” I said, and avoided the intent behind the question by looking past him. The woman standing at the door was tall and somewhat lanky, with eyes that were the green of a deep ocean and framed by long, thick lashes the rest of us would die for. Her hair was black, but highlights of dark green and blue played through it, as if the sea