Immortal Consequences(74)

“So I’ve been told.”

Olivier bit the inside of his cheek. He knew there was no changing August’s mind. That he would do this with or without Olivier’s help. And despite August’s track record of being a world-class prick, Olivier wasn’t prepared to sit around and watch him destroy his own soul.

“Okay.” Olivier pressed his hands firmly on Wren’s shoulders. “I have her.”

August let out a breath of relief. He placed his own hand upon Olivier’s shoulder.

“Thank you.”

Olivier chuckled. “Don’t thank me yet.”

August scooted closer to Wren, placing his hand delicately atop her forehead. He looked shattered—eyes wide and pleading. And before Olivier could say anything else, August’s gaze hardened with bone-chilling determination.

“Whatever happens,” he whispered, voice steady, “don’t let go.”

And then he plunged his hand through his chest and into his own soul.

34

August

August. I think I’m dying.

He would have done anything to stop it. To save her. And a piece of his own soul was a small price to pay in the grand scheme of things. He owed her that much.

As the world around him melted into a dizzying display of colors and shapes, August swore he heard Wren’s voice echoing somewhere in the chaos, calling out to him like a siren song. His fingers intertwined with the core of his soul, the loose ends coming undone and fraying at the seams. He had felt the edges of a soul before, when reaping lost souls to the Other Side, but this was different. This was his own essence. His entire soul threaded in the palm of his hand.

August.

One wrong move, one small twitch of his finger, and he’d risk destroying himself. August fought against the pressure building in his chest, the darkness swirling in his head. An emptiness hovered in the horizon, an inviting nothingness calling out to him. A void. A ticket out of his suffering.

August.

He could let go. It sounded inviting, a sweet release from the torment of his past. But August knew that destroying himself wouldn’t destroy the damage he’d already left behind. He needed to be there to pick up the pieces. He needed to be there for her.

“August!”

Olivier’s voice snapped him back to reality, the room around him rushing in with unwavering clarity. And before he could lose himself to the void again, August ripped his hand out of his chest, a silver sphere hovering in the palm of his hand.

His soul.

Or a fragment of it, at least.

He wasted no time, lunging forward and pressing it into Wren’s chest.

The reaction was instantaneous.

Her body jolted upward as Olivier held her down, gripping her shoulders. She began to convulse, her body seizing violently, her head slamming against the wooden floorboards with every sudden movement.

August dove forward, cupping the back of her head with his hands. He dragged her body up toward him, cradling her in his arms.

“Come on,” he muttered, cursing under his breath. “Dammit, Loughty. Wake up.”

Olivier looked on in horror. “Is it…is it working?”

August gritted his teeth, beads of sweat dampening his curls. He could feel the tremor in her body beginning to slow down, the shock slowly subsiding.

“I think so.”

When she finally stopped trembling, August gently set her down, brushing a strand of auburn hair away from her face.

“What do we do now?” Olivier whispered frantically.

“You do nothing. You don’t want to involve yourself with this.”

“And you do?”

August tensed. He met Olivier’s gaze, unflinching.

“No,” he rasped. “But I have to.”

And then, without warning, Wren’s eyes jolted open as she breathed in a strangled breath, hands clawing at her body.

“Shit!” Olivier cursed and staggered backward. “She’s—she’s awake.”

“Loughty.” August held down her hands. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

“What—” Wren gasped, looking around, clearly disoriented. “What’s going on? Where am I?”

“Do you remember what happened in the Ether?” August asked. He hoped she did. Parts of it, at least. He needed to know details. He needed to know who’d done this to her. He would rip them limb from limb. Make them beg for mercy. There would be no sweeter sound than hearing them howling in agony. No greater pleasure than watching them suffer.

Wren’s face was still pallid, but the color was slowly washing back onto her cheeks, as if life itself had been breathed back into her.

“I was walking in the Ether,” she whispered, voice shaking. “And then something attacked me. It looked like a shadow, but…it was alive.”

August swallowed the bile rising in his throat.

“Did you see anybody else?”

“No.” Wren shook her head. “Maybe. I don’t think so. It all happened too fast.” She winced and hoisted herself up onto her elbows. “I fell somewhere. I was in pain, but…I don’t know. It all gets a bit blurry from there.”

August let out a shaky breath. “I think I know what happened. But you have to promise to remain calm.”

Her face hardened.

“August. Tell me.”