Sins of the Soul

Maybe the river would carry her to Alastor. Kuso, she should have dived in before, when she had been strong enough to actually be able to swim.

She pushed to her feet, staggered and stared down at her backpack. There wasn’t much left in there that was of use to her, and the pack would only be dead weight in the river. Weight her flagging strength couldn’t carry.

She fished out her little bottle of hand sanitizer. Empty.

Her decision made, she left it behind, left the pack behind, and staggered to the water’s edge. It ran fast and wild and as she squatted to let her fingers trail in the water, she realized that it ran damned cold.

What the hell was she doing even entertaining this idea?

“Got a better one, Kurata?” She stared straight ahead. She could sit down and wait. But waiting was the same as giving up. She was out of water, out of food. If she was going to die, might as well die as a warrior, fighting for her life with whatever she had at her disposal. In this case, that was one cold, scary river.

“In for a penny,” she muttered and let her whole hand dip into the water. Cold as ice. Cold as a winter wind. Cold as the grave she’d buried Butcher in.

Kuso.

She couldn’t remember how long until hypothermia set in. A couple of minutes? Ten? Twenty?

Whatever it was, she was about to find out.

She closed her eyes, thought of Alastor, the way he’d kissed her. The way he’d touched her. The way he’d looked at her with a bit of what she’d seen in Dagan’s eyes when he looked at Roxy.

Thinking of that, his eyes so blue and bright against the dark fringe of his lashes, she leaned forward and let herself fall.





TIME WAS DISTORTED. ALASTOR paced along the bank of the river, sensing that weeks had passed, though in the human realm, it was less. He was certain it was less.

He’d spaced out his candy, making it last as long as he could, managing the pain when it crashed over him in waves. It was only pain. Pain was finite. He could control it. He glanced at his open palm.

Only three pieces of candy left.

He dropped them back into his pocket.

The river rushed toward him and he kept walking. He remembered shoving Naphré out of the water and onto the bank. He’d yelled at her to breathe. Then the water tore him away as though intent on separating them.

Maybe it had been.

Maybe Izanami had her already. Maybe the Shikome had snatched Naphré the second they were separated. The thought coiled in his gut, in his heart, like a poison worm, spreading acid in all directions.

Naphré might be out here, alone, afraid, hungry…dying.

He could survive without food or water, the deity part of him keeping the human part alive. It wouldn’t be pleasant. He was already clawed by agonizing pain that stole his breath and made him want to howl. It was only pain. He could survive for a very long time.

She couldn’t.

How long would her supplies last?

He could summon a portal and get the hell out of here. Problem with that was, it was a one-time deal. He could open a doorway and leave, but it was highly unlikely Izanami would allow him to make a return trip. And he wasn’t leaving without Naphré.

Another wave of pain hit him hard, every cell in his body screaming for sugar. Panting, he doubled over, then forced himself upright, mastering the agony.

Finally, he straightened.

He walked along the river in the opposite direction of the flow, his eyes fixed in the distance, searching for Naphré. He was determined to find her. To save her.

To tell her what he should have told her before they ever came here.

That she was his. Call it destiny, fate. Love. The name didn’t matter. Naphré.





THE WATER WAS COLDER than cold, the force of the current so strong that Naphré was whipped along, pulled under, spun upside-down and over—arse over tits, as Alastor would say—until she bobbed up to the surface, grabbed a desperate breath, then was sucked under and the whole thing began once more.

She was crazy to have risked this. But her gut was telling her there wasn’t time for any other option. She had no idea where she was, but she was sure that if she stayed long enough, there’d be no going back.

People weren’t meant to cross into the Underworld. It was a one-way trip. And she wasn’t ready to give up on life just yet.

Her lungs were screaming, the urge to inhale nearly too strong to fight. But she had no idea which way was up. There was only the frigid water and the greedy current, pulling at her, carrying her along.

She didn’t fight, though she wanted to kick for the surface with all her might. Problem was, she wasn’t sure were the surface was. She could just as easily kick her way to the bottom of a watery grave because there was only darkness. All around her there was only darkness.