my fist on the side of the ambulance. "Round three."
The back shifted. One of the doors flew open, and Carl leaned out. "Where is he, Coach?"
"Battle Royale," I said. "The blue trucks."
He was off like a shot, even as the bullets began pounding into him, sending bits of flesh and clothes arcing away from his body. He was a good distraction, giving Prithi enough time to make her escape. Her hair was disheveled, her clothes were messy, and she smelled like rotting flesh.
"Not a fucking word," she said to Amos. She turned to me. "That look might be worth going straight for."
"Shut up," I said. "Head that way, through the kitchen and down to the cellar. Look for a bottle of D'Amalfi, whatever that is. We need it."
"D'Amalfi?" Amos asked. "You shittin' me?"
"No. Why?"
"You know how much that stuff costs?"
"No. Just go and get it. I'll take care of this. I have a payment to make." I rolled the dice between my fingers.
Amos paled. "Yeah. Sure. Come on, Pissy."
Prithi glared at his back while they moved towards the kitchen.
"Try to keep your eyes up," I said. "I made a little bit of a mess on the floor."
Prithi glanced back at me with a horrified look on her face. Amos grabbed her arm and pulled her away.
I could hear the frequency of the telekinetic magic. It was calm and soothing, like ocean waves on a beach. I took it in and held it for a moment before reaching out, taking hold of the ambulance door and yanking, pulling it from its hinges. I kept it in front of me while I moved out into the yard.
Bullets bounced off the door, reinforced to protect it from potential feral attack. I could hear screams from my left that silenced a second later, Carl reaching the shooters and putting them down. Six. I needed six. I brought the dice to my lips.
"Payment, as bargained and promised."
The laughter overpowered the calm rhythm. I almost dropped the door at the volume of it. I lobbed the dice over my head, throwing them towards Black's ghosts.
I couldn't see the roll. I already knew what the outcome would be. The gunfire stopped completely, and the whines of pain echoed across the lawn. Carl appeared at my side, a look of confusion across his mangled brow.
"They sick or something, Coach?"
"Bad clams. Fight's over."
He looked a little disappointed. Then he straightened up again. "Can I go get some rest now?"
The question was another damning temptation. "Do you like when you rest?"
"I don't know. I want to rest. I guess I must."
"Do you know where you go?"
"No. I mean, I know it's dark sometimes, and sometimes its-"
He fell to the ground at the same time I felt the sharp sting of my thread snapping, and I cursed out loud. "Son of a bitch." It was Death. He'd stopped Carl from blabbing, from giving too much away.
You. It is mine.
The words sprang out of the mask, the endless laughter dying in an instant.
If I had thought that the laughter was grating, overpowering, frightening, or otherwise emotionally draining...
The silence was so much worse.
TWENTY-THREE
Regret.
I was sitting on the back of the ambulance when Prithi and Amos returned. Prithi was cradling the bottle of D'Amalfi in her arms while Amos couldn't take his eyes off it, seemingly entranced by the diamonds that lined the design.
No wonder it was so expensive.
I was still wearing the mask. I couldn't take it off. Not until the power had run its course. I still looked like Jet. I still had his magic. I didn't want it anymore. I didn't want the mask on my face.
I didn't want it anywhere near me.
The laughter had returned, lower and less chaotic, mingled with the screams of the souls the dice had collected.
All I remembered was the silence.
And the words.
"It is mine."
My question had been answered. My fear had been realized. Multiplied. Not only did the entity that lived in the mask know Death. They were enemies. Opponents of a kind I didn't and couldn't understand.
Did Tarakona know? He had promised me a way to fend off Death as though he knew what it was that was hunting me. Maybe he had information about this other... thing. The one I had accepted. The one I had made a deal with, without knowing what I was dealing with. My fear of dying, my fear of the other side, and my anger over Dannie had led me to this.
Or, it had led me to this.