Vesik 3 Winter's Demon by Eric Asher

Author:Eric Asher
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Unknown
Publisher: Eric R. Asher
Published: 2014-06-12T05:00:00+00:00

***

Edgar was standing between me and James. The younger Watcher stared at me. The look made my skin crawl. Edgar repositioned himself so James couldn’t see me and said something low and intense to the man. I did my best to ignore the exchange.

“I thought you said there were two necromancers aside from Philip,” I said as the radiant glow began to fade from Maggie and Carter as the soulart dissipated.

Maggie nodded. “The other is gone.”

“It was Zachariah,” Carter said.

“He’s never far from Philip,” Zola said as she squatted beside the glassy dome of power. “Where are Vik and Vassili? Dimitry and the fairies?”

“I sent them back to Rivercene,” Edgar said. “There are too many strangers in this town to know who’s a threat.”

Zola nodded. “Wise of you.”

Philip moved. He flinched as he tried to move his leg, and then looked up to find Zola.

“Fuck me.”

“That ship has sailed,” Zola said. “The only thing fucking you now is a barrel full of lead.”

Philip actually smiled, and laughed. The laugh was wrong somehow, broken. “What do you want?”

“There are rumors,” she said. “You travel with Ezekiel. Some say you control him.”

“Control him?” Philip asked as his stare trailed into the distance. “No one can control him.”

“Then why are you with him?” Zola asked.

“I’m not. I needed the Blessing to survive him. Did you not look over the hill yet? It should be most enlightening.”

“You let him near the grave?” Edgar said.

“Let him?” Philip snapped. “Do you not remember his power? He is a god in all but name.” Philip lowered his eyes. “He is a god in name as well, to some.”

Edgar took a deep breath, and it almost sounded like a growl as he exhaled.

My heart bobbed up into my throat. “What’s over the hill?”

Zola gave a quick shake of her head and started up the short rise to the crest of the hill. I followed her, and was greeted by a vision I’d seen once before. A churning mass of restless souls, trapped within the scarred earth. Nothing I’ve ever seen comes closer to describing Hell. The specters were younger here than those I’d seen in Stone’s River, more humanlike as they clawed and threw themselves at the sides of the mass grave. They flailed silently, as others stepped on and through them, only to be dragged under in a constant, churning flow. The mass grave was below us. Dug up. Violated. Desecrated.

“Ezekiel is here.” Zola said, her stare never leaving the pit below us.

My gaze traveled from Philip back to the gaping maw in the ground. “Too fucking late,” I said.

“Who did he raise?” Mike asked as he strode down the hill to kneel beside the wound in the earth. “I can smell the brimstone, and there is fresh blood beneath the spirits.” He leaned closer and held out a hand, pulling a thin wisp of gray toward him. It may have been a jacket, or just a bit of smoke, but Mike’s hand closed into a fist, and the remnant fled.

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