Broken Souls Read Free

much I’m sure of. Probably just my paranoia. A new psychosis, maybe. Wouldn’t that be fun?
    At night from a distance it’s easier to pass my eyes off as normal. I step closer, but not too close. Give him a good look.
    “Oh my,” he says. “No iris. No whites at all. Pitch black. Did it hurt?”
    “Wasn’t pleasant.”
    “And now?”
    “No. Seem to have slightly better night vision, but they don’t give me trouble in bright light, either. Been wearing sunglasses a lot so I don’t scare the straights.”
    “And I heard mention of a ring?”
    I show him my left hand, the wedding band on my finger. It changes from time to time. A simple gold band sometimes, tiny
calaveras
carved into its surface others. Tonight it’s solid green jade, which is new. “Came with the eyes,” I say. “Can’t seem to get rid of that, either.”
    The ring and the eyes are reminders from Santa Muerte that I belong to her now. I made a deal with her, to help me kill Boudreau after he’d kidnapped Alex, but I ended up with a shotgun wedding and Alex dead instead. Pro tip: read the fine print.
    “Interesting,” he says. “Married to a goddess of death. Are you sure you want me to help you break her hold on you? I imagine you must be getting some benefits from this arrangement.”
    Sure. I’ve got more power. My abilities to sense the dead have skyrocketed. I can channel more magic than I’ve ever been able to before. I can cast some spells that used to take me days of planning with barely a thought. But there’s more to this than all that.
    “She wants something from me and I don’t know what. Can’t be anything good.”
    “But the power—”
    “You don’t get it. This isn’t about power. It’s about being somebody’s puppet. Yeah, my abilities have grown, but I don’t own them. Can you help me or not?”
    He looks set to argue with me about it, then catches himself. “I see. All right. Has she contacted you since this happened?”
    I remember Alex’s funeral when she came to gloat. The same day Vivian told me to stay out of her life. “Just once. Few months back. Haven’t seen her since.”
    “Interesting.” He cocks his head to the side, wrinkles his brow in thought. “Here, give me your hand. I have something that might help until we can find something more permanent.” He reaches into his coat pocket.
    Something’s not right. “Sure you don’t need to know a little more about this?”
    “No, no,” he says, a hungry look creeping into his eyes. “I know enough. Now, come here.” I’m not buying it.
    “He’s got a knife,” the voice in my ear says, as if confirming my suspicions.
    Sure enough, Kettleman whips out a wicked-looking blade made of knapped obsidian, its handle just a wrapping of old leather strands covering the stone. He slashes it out at me in a wide arc, faster than I expected. It bites through my suit coat, nicks my tie.
    I call my magic around me, shove a burst of lightning out through my hand. Two months ago, channeling this much power would have made me pull from the local pool and probably left me exhausted, but now the magic flows through me fast and smooth. The arcs of electricity dance around Kettleman, but he’s no slouch. They bounce off a shield he’s put up around himself, and the force of my blast only manages to shove him back a couple feet. He grunts against the onslaught and then lets out his own.
    A wave of force smashes into me. Knocks me down and I skid ten feet to slam against the concrete wall of the western telescope dome. Wasn’t ready for that.
    “The power of a goddess,” Kettleman says, advancing on me like a madman, the obsidian blade flashing in his hand. “You don’t want it, you don’t deserve to keep it.”
    “Jesus, man, it’s not like I can give it to ya. Hell, if that’s all it took I’d hand it over right now.” I roll to my feet, draw the Browning from its holster at the small of my back. “Look, I don’t want to kill you. Really.