"She better be," Eve said. "Or this baby needs a recharge."
I struggled from the cloud of shock and turned to Eve. "I didn't need to be rescued."
"Sorry, but my sword outranks your..." she glanced at my hand, "sock puppet."
"It's a glass shard," I said, lifting it.
Her lips twitched. "Ah." A pause and she sobered. "You're right, Jaime. You had her, and maybe I should have let you take her down, but this?" She lifted the sword. "Less messy. In more ways than one."
She laid down the weapon as May's spirit began to separate from her body.
I stared at the sword. It was at least four feet long and inscribed with symbols. As the metal glowed, I remembered stories my Nan had told me of necromancers at executions or deaths of criminals, seeing spirits bearing glowing swords, come to claim the souls. The Sword of Judgment. Not a weapon wielded by just any ghost.
"You're a--an--" I couldn't get the word out. "The job you do for the Fates. You're an...angel?"
"Maybe." She winked. "Or maybe I just swiped the sword."
She grabbed May's silent spirit by the shoulders, yanked her free and disappeared.
I stood there, staring
at the spot where they'd vanished. Then I heard a thump. I glanced toward the living room, expecting to see the cat again. The noise came again, from downstairs. I was late for an appointment.
THE KILLING room was remarkably clean. I guess I should have known that. Jeremy and Karl didn't need to Change into wolves. Part of being such efficient killers was knowing how to kill efficiently.
Four bodies lay in the room, all with broken necks. The only blood came from Karl's nose. Elbowed in the melee. He gave Jeremy a few seconds to examine it, then hurried to Hope.
Once Jeremy discovered May was dead, and I was fine, it was time to consider body disposal. He knew more about crime-scene cleanup than anyone should. He'd said before that it was a necessary "skill" for the Alpha--when he sent Clayton and Elena to stop a man-killing mutt, they often had to clean up. As Alpha, though, he would only need to teach the skills. Yet watching him that day, I remembered what he'd said about having to cover his father's kills.
Whatever my mother had done to me, it paled in comparison to that.
BEFORE THEY removed the bodies, Jeremy checked on Hope too. As I waited in the hall, Eve returned with Kristof.
"Got a couple of bodies for us to look after too, I see," she said.
She waved through the doorway into the TV room, where Brendan and Murray waited, quiet, lost in their thoughts. I explained. When I finished, I headed over to Brendan.
"Ready to go?" I asked.
"I--" He blinked, dazed, as if the fact of his death was only hitting him now, after he'd escaped the room where he'd died. "I guess so."
"I'll take him," Kristof said, his voice uncharacteristically soft. He walked to the young man, his hand outstretched. "Brendan, isn't it?"
He shook Kristof's hand. "Y-yes, sir."
"Kristof." He put his arm around the boy's shoulders and led him from the room. "Is there anyplace you'd like to visit before we go, Brendan?"
Their voices faded as they headed up the stairs. Eve walked to Murray, who sprang off the sofa.
"There are some places I'd like to visit," he said. "See my wife one last time and--"
"You should have thought of that before you butchered six kids," Eve said. "Judgment awaits, and it's getting impatient."
"B-but I helped you guys. Ask--"
He tried to turn toward me, but Eve grabbed his arm.
"Take it up with the Fates."