I came to with a jolt.
“Byron!” I yelled, hoping it had all been a horrid dream.
I wasn’t that lucky.
Bright sunlight shone down, and I had to shield my eyes from it to see where I was.
White sands stretched as far as I could see and the ocean, as blue as Byron’s eyes, lapped gently at the shore.
“Where the hell am I?” I muttered aloud as I drank in the scenery. It was beautiful here, but it felt… odd. The waves moved, but there were no birds in the sky, no other noises. This place was empty.
“It’s not hell,” a rich, deep voice muttered from behind me.
“Jesus, fuck,” I yelped as I jumped to my feet, prepared to defend myself. Which was stupid because I had no fucking magic. So what was I going to do, hurl a rock at the guy?
Fuck. Was I dead?
“You’re not dead,” the mystery guy said. He was tall, with pale skin and auburn hair. He was dressed for the beach in beige slacks and a white linen shirt that was only held together by two closed buttons. The breeze tugged at the open corners of his shirt and I saw black runes painted down his skin.
“If I’m not dead, then where am I? Who are you? And how do you know what I’m thinking?”
His full lips curled into an arrogant smirk. “It’s the first thing everyone thinks when they turn up here. It’s called the In-Between.”
“The In-Between? Sounds like something out of a storybook.”
He chuckled and sat down, burying his toes in the sand. “Wilder, you’re not dead but you’re on the cusp.”
I sat next to him and stared out at the deep blue sea. “You’re Death, aren’t you?”
“Yes, but I go by Ray.” He looked at me and extended his hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Wilder.”
I eyed his fingers warily. They were covered in more of the same runes on his chest and I couldn’t help but think of Terence. “I don’t suppose you’re related to a Memory Wraith are you?”
His smile was warm as he held his hand steady, waiting for me to take it. “Yes, he’s my brother. You can take my hand, Wilder. I’m not here to kill you.”
I wrapped my fingers around his and gave his hand a firm shake. There was something a little uncomfortable about shaking hands with your demise. “Then why are you here?”
His eyes, that were the colour of dying stars, caught somewhere between red and orange, held mine with an unshakable firmness. “To send you back.”
“I don’t want to go back. Not without him.” The thought of living in a world without Byron could go to hell.
“He’s taking all your power, you know,” Ray said, his voice calm.
I dropped my chin to my knees. “I know. He can have it. I’d rather had Byron than all that power.”
There was a gaping hole in the space where Byron should be. That stupid man. How could he have done something as stupid as that? Jumping in front of a knife and for what?
I brushed away the angry tear that rolled down my cheek unbidden.
“It would be very bad if Belial got hold of your power,” Ray said softly as he drew lines in the sand.
“Belial?”
“The King’s real name. He is one of the Kings of Hell and he was Satan’s most devout follower. After Satan fell in the last Holy War, he has wanted to exact revenge ever since. He is a man with many fingers in many pies. You were just one of them. He cannot be allowed to siphon a power like yours, Wilder.”
“Why?”
Ray huffed a frustrated breath. “Always with all the questions. Well, for one, your gift is rare. You can freely communicate with the dead, with me and with anyone who has crossed over. On top of that, you have power over life. You could stop someonefrom crossing over if you wanted to. It will cost you and it’s not something you should do often, but you could almost bring someone back from the dead. For another, when siphoned, your magic is as powerful as a supernova. It could power a universe, Wilder.”