He stared at me for a moment, and just like with Harding, I knew what he was asking without needing to hear the words. Surprisingly, it wasn’t “Why are you here?” That seemed to have been established—I was here because I belonged. My magic granted me a pass to this place. Instead, I heard/felt, “What’s the situation?”

I shared my thoughts about the trapped spirit, and how I wanted to find out what was anchoring it to the world of the living. The shape nodded. He turned, almost lazily, and pressed his palm between the upper chest and neck of the soul. Spirit wound around the contact in bright violet, revealing a string starting from the soul and leading through the world of the living, cutting through the wall in swirly loop-de-loops and finally disappearing.

A strange feeling trickled down through my belly. It reminded me of my mom, and crazy situations, and everything working out unexpectedly. Without thinking, knowing it was a bad idea but used to just going with the flow when I felt like this, I grabbed that string and, using it as a guide, I left my body behind. Touching that cord, I felt energy surging in the same direction I was going, being pulled from the spirit and the magic I’d injected into him. In no time, that guy would be back to his sad state, listlessly hovering, looking at nothing.

Frustration overwhelmed me, followed fast by anger. Where did it end? This soul had been ripped from his body, stripped of everything he’d known, and left to find his way through the unfamiliar plane, alone. Surely he’d paid the price for whatever he’d done many times over. If not, she could have dissolved his spirit entirely. Lydia had the power to do so. But this? This was an exhibition of moral bankruptcy. She kept those spirits in the halls for her own benefit. Any energy they siphoned from her guests and staff went to her.

My brain couldn’t wrap around how gross that was. A Demigod of Hades could just take power from the Line—why would she siphon it from people unless she got off on it?

The string led into a large room with cream walls lined and accented with gold. Three groupings of furniture created little discussion pods, one set upholstered in black and white, another in forest green, and the third, where Kieran and Lydia sat, was stark white. A thought curled up, unbidden—Thank God I’m not in that meeting. I’d spill coffee and crumbs all over the pristine furniture.

None of their guards or inner circle members waited in the room with them. Instead, I felt their souls in the room next to this one, all spread out, none of them mingling with the unfamiliar souls who were probably Lydia’s crew.

Two staff members in their stupid coats and wigs entered the room from a door on the right, one carrying a golden tray laden with little sandwiches, chips and pretzels, and chocolates, and the other rolling a silver drink cart. The staff member with the cart stopped when he was close to remove a tray of leftover pastries from the small table in the conversation nook. The other put down the new plate of food and refilled Kieran’s nearly empty glass with some sort of purple drink.

Kieran’s soul gleamed, bright and beautiful, but he was troubled and scared. He’d been fine before I took flight, so I could only assume he felt me now, not in my body where I was supposed to be.

Lydia turned her head slowly toward me. She sat on the couch, her dress’s slit parting around her crossed legs. The violet string I’d been following disappeared into a halo around her chest.

Hating myself, knowing how incredibly stupid this was, I acted quickly. I had to know the extent of what she was doing! I had to figure out a way to stop her.

I darted toward her and did what the shadow guy had done, only I didn’t have a hand. How did I get a hand in this place? I improvised with the idea of a hand, slapping spirit against her upper chest. Violet lit up my world before settling. Strings of power blazed through the room, lots of them, some connected directly to her and some detouring to the room next door. She wasn’t keeping all the power; she was feeding those who protected her, as well.

The string—more of a rope now—I had followed was thicker than most of the others, laden with the power I had supplied. I wondered if she’d felt the influx, or if it had just replaced the lost power from the spirits I’d sent into the beyond last night. There’d been so many of them, but they were weak.

Closing my eyes, acting fast, I used spirit and power and clipped the smaller strings connected to her. Instead of snapping off, however, they slowly dissolved, the beautiful purple tarnishing, darkening, then dying. The string didn’t pull away—it disappeared entirely, and I vaguely felt the Line throb.

Had I just set the soul free, then? Was clipping those connections enough to let them drift away? It certainly seemed easier than forcing the spirits over the Line.

Before I could back away, spirit coalesced around me, trapping me, sticking me to the spot. A smile slowly curled Lydia’s lips and a new violet string formed. A connection that she intended to attach to me!

I struggled to get away, to break free. This was why I had, up until now, avoided leaving my body. Why I hadn’t wanted Jack or any of the others to come. She dealt in spirit like Demigod Flora dealt in storms and lightning. I was now in Lydia’s sticky web of spirit, caught, without my body to keep me grounded.

I was at her mercy, and I had every reason to believe she had none.

30

Alexis

Kieran stood slowly, his eyes rooted to Lydia. I knew he couldn’t see me in this state, but I’d ripped out his soul six months ago and brought him into this plane with me. After that, he’d always been able to feel me when I traveled in spirit. He knew I was hovering right around Lydia, and I was quite sure he also knew what her sly, triumphant smile meant.

His people started moving in the room next door, surely feeling the incredible panic that was rising in him like a tide. His power, surging through the room. But what could he do? The only option was to kill her.

I pumped a shock wave of power into the beyond, attempting to reach the world of the living. Spirit shook around me, but I was still stuck. If Lydia felt the assault, she didn’t show it. I thrashed and turned, chopping at her connections, hacking at the deep violet rope slowly creeping toward me through the air.

Jack appeared next to me—then Frank, of all people. John came next, followed by Chad and Mia. All of the spirits from back home, the ones who’d helped me fight or just hung around, populated the room.

“Help!” I cried, not sure what to do. Air gathered in the room, Kieran readying to fight, trying to save me even though he couldn’t know what was actually happening.

I could not let him kill her. His father had been one thing—they’d battled, face to face. They’d pitted themselves against each other, Kieran the underdog. But to accept a Demigod’s invitation and then kill her? The other superpowers of the world wouldn’t stand for that, especially since he was so new and untried, and given his history. His future would be over before it had properly begun.

“Tell Kieran no,” I said to Jack, who was staring down at Lydia with a mask of rage. “Tell him not to touch her.”

“Careful there,” Lydia drawled, victory in her eyes as she looked up at Kieran, unable to see me with my being across the veil. “Harm me, and I will end you. I have the connections to do it. You are already thought of as a rogue child. If you don’t play nice, you’ll be put down for a rabid dog.”