Dark Time (9 page)

I stood as the door in the front came crashing in. I spread my wings as I knelt down, my knee pressing the blood into the carpet, and carefully scooped the heart into my hands. By the time I stood up, the door to Vanessa Stephens's office opened and a crowd of uniformed men, suited men and women, and a familiar dark haired man in Hugo Boss stood in shocked silence.
 

They were regular Atlanta Police Department. Mastiff stood among them. And…they could see me.
 

Me.
 

The Wraith.
 

The Harbinger.
 

And…they could see Manuel's body, the chest torn open, the symbols carved on his skin, and his heart…in my hands.
 

Zoë…did you kill Manuel?
Mephistopheles's voice had an odd tone to it. Bordering on shock and anger.
 

"No…" Jason said as he started forward but Mastiff put a hand out to stop him. "That's…this isn't possible."
 

"What the fuck is that?"
 

"That's one hell of a Halloween costume, bitch. Now put the heart down…and put your hands up." This was one of the larger of the uniformed men in front. Everyone had their weapons drawn.
 

And none were L-6.
 

I looked at Jason. "I'm…I'm sorry."
 

He pulled forward but Mastiff continued holding him back. "You killed Manuel!"
 

I knew what it looked like to him. I knew he felt it harder than anyone. He'd been in Manuel's position once—under the knife of Maureen and held by the spell in the markings. Even his flawless skin could reflect the ghost of their magic in the right light.
 

"Put the heart down!" The cop said again.
 

I spread my wings.
 

They fired their weapons.
 

But I wasn't solid enough to feel them anymore. To them I'd be little more than a faint image, a faded photograph.
 

And then, nothing.
 

I sieved through the house, through the ceiling and into the sky, the heart still in my grasp. I didn't know what I was going to do. I just knew I needed to keep the heart alive.
 

The Coterie will find you, Wraith.
Metphistopheles's voice was no longer gentle and kind, but thick and menacing.
There is nowhere for you to hide for what you've done. Two First Borns! There will be nothing left of you by the time we—

I cut off him off. I didn't know I could till I did. Without a First Born inside me, they couldn't track me.
 

Two? Did he really believe I'd killed Inanna? Was that what that damn bitch wanted? It made sense as I sailed north to the woods. Misdirection was the art of war. Weaken your enemies from the inside. Turn them upon one another so that when the real battle begins, they are defenseless.
 

She was pitting the Revenants against me, as well as the Society, hoping to keep us all busy so she carried out what ever sick, twisted fantasy she had in that warped old mind of hers.

Well…I was pissed now.
 

Really pissed.
 

And it's really not a good idea to piss off a Wraith.
 

I wasn't going to let her succeed, but there wasn't much I could do right then. The damage to my own heart was sapping my strength even as I moved, and if I wasn't careful I was going to end up in a hospital and very easy to find.
 

It might have been the pain in my chest, or the delirium that threatened to take me out of the sky, but a really crazy, gross, nasty idea came to me. Something that I had no idea how to pull off…and no real proof it would work.
 

I hovered over Red Top Mountain as I looked at the heart. I couldn't hear her. I didn't know if Morgan was still there. But…
my
heart was damaged. And this heart…

I did what any other desperate, red blooded American Wraith would do when faced with adversity. I made the heart incorporeal and shoved it into my chest.
 

And that…was…

Oh my…

about the author

Phaedra Weldon is a writer and mother of one. Born in Pensacola, Florida, Phaedra was raised in the lush, green southern tropic of Georgia. She grew up on southern ghost stories told while eating marshmallows around campfires, or on the back of pick-up trucks in the middle of cornfields on chilly October nights.
 
She worked as a Graphic Artist for over twenty years in the publishing and sign industries until she became a full time writer in 2009. Phaedra currently lives in Atlanta, Georgia with her husband and daughter.
 

This work and everything in it is the sole property of Phaedra Weldon. Any copying or reprinting will be prosecuted to the furthest extent of the law.