Lincoln

Chapter 3

3

Minister Devak’s ghost hovers before me in all its semi-transparent glory.

It’s almost beyond belief.

Yet not quite.

Was it just yesterday that Aldred and I discussed Devak’s interest in hunting quasis?

Why yes, it was.

Since then, I’ve received no formal notification of the minister’s death, which makes this ghostly encounter rather unusual. Not that I haven’t met spirits before. Occasionally a ghost visits me before moving on to Purgatory. However, I’m always last on the list after the spirit presents itself to loved ones.

And the key concept here is loved ones.

The minister and I were never close outside of his official duties. It’s odd for his ghost to find me so soon.

“Yes, it’s me,” replies Ghost Devak. “I just died a few minutes ago. Oldest thrax to pass away on record.”

I nod. “Are congratulations in order?” Chatting with new ghosts is always tricky. You never know their mood.

“I lived a full life and now head off to my eternity. I am pleased.”

“That’s good to hear.” And I mean it. “What brings you to me?”

Ghost Devak sighs. “My earl has signed the latest version of our anti-Acca treaty.”

“Excellent.” One house down, two more to go. “Though I doubt you’re visiting me to share that piece of information.”

“It’s like this …” Ghost Devak pauses. “I’ve been chosen by the Tithe.”

My brows lift. That’s not what I expected to hear.

The Tithe is an immortal thrax warlock who fulfills your greatest wish, assuming you’re both worthy and part-angel. Want a pile of gold? The Tithe will make it happen. Hope your enemies will disappear? No problem; the Tithe will handle it. In return, you agree to serve him through all eternity. The Tithe began life as a sculptor, so he places your ghost inside an effigy, which is a lifelike statue of your best self. You then spend forever as a happy resident in his so-called Tower of Wonders. In my mind, it’s too good to believe, but my people like the idea of a fairy godfather type who solves all their problems. Plus, in this moment, the Tithe really doesn’t interest me.

Myla’s safety does.

A thread of unease winds through me. There’s something unsettling about this ghost appearing … the Tithe becoming involved in the minster’s afterlife … and Aldred’s news regarding Devak and quasi hunting.

I haven’t been a warrior my whole life not to recognize danger when it stands before me. And this situation with Devak positively overflows with menace.

“Selected by the Tithe,” I repeat. “How nice.” Yet as I say these words, my tone is more ice than nice. “I understand you’ve been asking about quasi fighters.”

Ghost Devak’s weathered face creases into a grin. “Yes, I was asking on behalf of my master. There’s a particular quasi he wishes to hunt. It won’t be easy, so no one can intervene.” Ghost Devak stares at me pointedly, as if there’s zero question who he expects to intervene. Me.

I keep my features still. Yet inside, my heart thuds with worry. Please, don’t let his target be Myla. It’s already bad enough that Aldred has taken an interest in my girl. I don’t need a sketchy warlock after her as well.

“And who is his chosen target?” I ask.

Ghost Devak’s grin widens. “The Tithe plans to hunt down the demon Myla Lewis. You must allow him to claim this quarry.”

The way Ghost Devak speaks, it’s as if hunting a woman were nothing more than swatting a fly. His casual tone transforms my sense of concern into something else. Pure rage now heats my blood. When I speak again, my voice drips with menace. “Why Myla Lewis?”

“She’s a great warrior. That is all.” Ghost Devak’s smile falters. I’ve negotiated with this minister for years. I know what it means when Devak stutters while his grin fails.

I speak two more words, slowly and with barely controlled fury. “You’re lying.”

Ghost Devak grips his hands under his chin. “Please. Name your price to step down. Whatever you want, it’s yours. My master must cleanse the after-realms, starting with Heaven.”

Not this again. You’d think my people were obsessive cleaners instead of hunters, they way they prattle on about scouring evil from the after-realms. And it’s always the bad outside Antrum that concerns them. Happily, I have a system for just such occasions.

“I’ve a scribe who does nothing but field messages from thrax who have ideas on how to cleanse the after-realms. Your friend can address his ideas to Lord Aethelgood.” By the way, I had to make the man a lord before he’d accept this particular duty. It really is a horrid job. “What I care about is my original question.”

To emphasize the risk here, I reach around my back to pull my baculum from their holster at the base of my spine. These silver rods can be ignited into any sort of fiery blade. I lift the bars high.

Ghost Devak’s translucent eyes light up with alarm. Good.

“Let’s try again,” I say slowly. “Why does the Tithe really wish to hunt Myla Lewis?”

“My new master erased all my debts,” whines Ghost Devak. “Soon he’ll turn me into a powerful effigy. After that, I’ll live forever in comfort and ease. The Tithe merely asks that I secure your help here. Why won’t you just agree? Simply look away while the Tithe hunts one quasi. That’s a demon, my prince!”

If that’s Devak’s closing argument, it’s downright awful.

“Indeed, I am your Prince,” I state. “Before you ever met the Tithe, you vowed to serve my rule. Now I command you; share every last detail about the Tithe and Myla Lewis.” As I speak a final word, I ignite my baculum into a long sword made of white flame …

“Now.”