Magic Misled (Lizzie Grace #7) - Keri Arthur Page 0,31

paunch aside, relatively thin. He looked to be in his mid-fifties and, for some reason, I suspected he was human.

What is your name? Belle asked.

Jackson. Jackson Pike. He looked around, his expression confused. What’s happened? Why do I feel so different?

I quietly began relaying the conversation, though my concentration remained on the soul.

I’m afraid you’re dead, Jackson—

No! That can’t be. His gaze fell on his body, and his expression went from denial to horrid fascination. That’s me, isn’t it?

I’m afraid so. Belle’s reply was gentle. It was hard to guess how some souls would react to such news, but I suspected Jackson wasn’t one of the more violent ones. I can help you move on, Jackson, but I need to ask you some questions first.

Move on? Like, become an angel or something?

Belle’s smile teased my lips. If that is your destiny, then yes.

He frowned. Meaning it could the other place?

Purgatory is certainly real enough, Belle said, but mostly it isn’t the hellfire and brimstone deal some religions depict.

Then what is it?

Belle shrugged. Sometimes, it’s simply making amends for the mistakes you made in this life in the next.

Like rebirth? That’s a thing?

Yes.

Huh. He studied his body for a moment. How did it happen?

That’s what I need you to tell me, Jackson.

He frowned. But I don’t know—

Let’s start at the beginning. Why were you out here in the first place?

He grimaced and waved a hand. As far as new souls went, he was pretty animated, suggesting he’d been like that in life. Doing a bit of detecting. Storms like this often wash down the scree, exposing bits of missed gold.

Why didn’t you leave the area when darkness came in, then?

Because I set up for the night in one of the old buildings.

What’s the last thing you can remember?

Slipping on the scree and falling on my ass. Bloody hurt, it did.

Which scree pile? Here, or elsewhere?

He looked around again, confusion evident. Not here. The other side, near the old quartz crusher building. How did I get here?

We don’t know, Jackson. Did you hear anything odd before you fell? Any strange sounds?

I heard some kids calling out. They seemed to be chasing someone. He shrugged. Not my business.

Did you hear anything else? A kid crying, for instance?

No. He paused and frowned. I did see something moving really fast through the trees. It was small and pale, but it disappeared before I could really see what it was. I figured it was just a bit of rubbish being tossed on the wind.

Where was this?

At the base of the ridge, in the trees behind the remnants of the tubular boiler.

Did it actually move like rubbish?

His frown deepened. Well, no, but it didn’t move like a person, either. Besides, it was too fast.

Could it have been a werewolf?

An upright wolf? There’s no such thing.

So it didn’t resemble either a human or a wolf, but it ran upright?

I don’t know. As I said, it moved really fast. It was there, and then it was gone. Irritation filled his tone. Why all these questions?

Because we need to know what killed you so we can find and stop it before it attacks again.

Oh.

What did you do after you fell, Jackson?

Belle’s weariness began to seep down the line. Remote spirit talking always took a toll on her. I pushed a little strength her way and felt the wash of her thanks. No more, though, she added, otherwise you’ll be wiped out as well.

Picked myself up, of course. Jackson’s tone suggested it was a dumb question. Unfortunately, the fall did something to the detector, so I headed back to the building.

But did you make it back there?

He frowned again. I can remember seeing it.

Meaning you didn’t actually get inside?

I don’t know.

I need you to think back, Jackson. It’s really important.

But I don’t— He stopped, and something flickered through his expression. Fear. He was remembering. I was about twenty feet away from the intake opening.

And?

There was a sound.

What sort of sound?

An odd sound.

Describe it.

It was a rasp. Like someone was having trouble breathing.

Where was it coming from?

From behind me. I spun around, and there were dots. Two red dots. And then … and then I was looking down and there was blood on my stomach and my guts were in my hands … His voice rose. Oh God, oh God, it’s eating me …

It can’t hurt you anymore, Jackson, Belle said soothingly. There’s no pain and nothing to fear in this form, and only joy ahead.

He took a deep shuddering breath—an instinctive

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