Soul Screamers Collection. Rachel Vincent

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СКАЧАТЬ an oversize desk which room “Lisa Hawthorne” was in, Tod appeared from around a corner, wearing respectably clean and intact jeans and an unwrinkled button-up shirt open over his usual dark tee. He jerked his head toward a cluster of elevators on one end of the lobby, and we followed him gratefully into the first one to open.

      “She’s pretty nervous, so go easy on her,” Tod said, eyeing Nash as soon as the mirrored doors closed and the elevator slid into motion.

      “She’s not the only one.” I ran one shaky hand over my ponytail, wondering if I should have worn my hair down. Or wiped my feet before walking through the lobby. But the overpriced hotel wasn’t really the cause of my nerves.

      I’d peeked into the Netherworld that afternoon, and wasn’t anxious to do it again anytime soon. But as badly as the prospect of actually walking into that shadow-world scared me, my horror was much greater at the thought of condemning Addison Page to an eternity there. Even if she had signed away her own soul.

      Tod was right. She didn’t know what she was getting into. She couldn’t have.

      The elevator binged in warning and slowed to a smooth stop, then the doors slid open almost silently. Tod got off first, and Nash and I followed him down a thickly carpeted hallway past at least a dozen doors before he stopped in front of the very last one, nearest the emergency staircase.

      “Hang on a minute,” he said, then popped out of sight before we could protest, leaving me and Nash standing in the hall like idiots, hoping no one came out to ask if we’d lost our key. Or to call Security.

      Who me? Paranoid?

      Absolutely.

      Several seconds later, the door opened from the inside, and for the second time in as many days, we walked into the private rooms of Addison Page, rock star. I had a fleeting moment of panicked certainty that once again, she wasn’t expecting us. That Tod had made the whole meeting up. But Addison stood in the middle of the sitting room, watching us through red-rimmed eyes, and she didn’t look surprised to see us. Thank goodness.

      “Thanks for coming,” she said as we made our way to a collection of couches gathered around yet another flat-screen television. “I know you guys probably think I don’t deserve your help, and the truth is that I’m not sure I do.”

      Neither was I, but the fact that she had her own doubts made me want to help her for her own sake, beyond my need to make up for not being able to save the girls my aunt had damned to eternal torture.

      “Yes you do.” Tod guided her to a boldly patterned armchair with one hand on her lower back. She didn’t pull away from him, and I was impressed all over again by her composure. I wouldn’t have been so calm if I had an undead ex-boyfriend.

      Or the staggering lack of a soul.

      Nash sank onto the cream-colored couch and pulled me down with him, his lips firmly sealed against the dissenting opinion I read clearly on his face. He wasn’t convinced that we had any business there. Or that Addison had any right to ask for our help.

      Tod sat in the other chair, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. His gaze hadn’t left Addy since we’d walked into the room, and I had a feeling it wouldn’t anytime soon.

      Addison wrung her hands together, twisting her fingers until I was sure one of them would break. “So. what’s next? How can I help?”

      “We need to know who—” Tod began, but Nash cut him off boldly.

      “Addy, before we get started, you need to understand how dangerous this is. Not just for you, but for us.” His voice was as hard and unrelenting as I’d ever heard it, and he squeezed my hand as he spoke. “We’re putting our own lives in danger for you, and honestly, the only reason I’m here is for Kaylee. Because I don’t want her to get hurt.”

      My heart jumped into my throat, and a smile formed on my face in spite of the solemn circumstances.

      “I understand….” Addison said, but Nash interrupted again.

      “I don’t think you do. I don’t think you can. We’re bean sidhes.” We both watched her face very carefully for a reaction, but got none. “Do you know anything about bean sidhes?”

      “A little,” she admitted, glancing briefly at the reaper. “Tod told me … some stuff.” Her cheeks flushed, and I wondered what else Tod had told her.

      “Good.” Nash looked relieved to finally hear something he approved of. “Did he tell you that the Netherworld is a very dangerous place for bean sidhes? That we have no defenses against the things that live there? That we can’t even pop out like he can, if something goes wrong?”

      She nodded again, shyly. Guiltily. And I could see that Addison Page wasn’t accustomed to asking for help. She looked … humiliated. As if the admission of her own powerlessness might break her.

      And that alone told me she was stronger than she thought she was. Stronger than Tod thought she was.

      Good. She’d have to be.

      “Okay, then, the first thing we want to know.” He glanced at me for confirmation, and I nodded in spite of the suspicious glint shining in Tod’s eyes. Nash and I had already discussed this. “Is how you got yourself into this mess. Why the hell would you sell your soul? I know I’m looking at your life from the outside, but I gotta say that from where we stand, it looks like you’ve got everything you could ever want.”

      Addison smiled wistfully, regretfully, as Tod glared at us. “I do now,” she said, her famous, melodic voice so soft I could barely hear it. “But when they came to me with this deal, I had nothing but dreams and desperation. I know that sounds melodramatic, but it’s the truth. They said they could make or break me, and they were right.”

      “Who?” I asked, speaking for the first time since we’d entered her room.

      “Dekker Media.”

      A chill swept the length of my body, leaving me cold from the inside out.

      Dekker Media was an entertainment titan. They had theme parks, production studios, television channels, and more large-scale marketing clout than any other company in the world. Dekker Media had its sticky fingers in every pie imaginable. Kids grew up watching their movies, listening to their CDs, playing with their toys, wearing their officially licensed shoes and clothes, and sleeping between sheets plastered with the faces of their squeaky-clean, family-friendly stars.

      The company was pervasive. Ubiquitous. Obnoxious.

      They signed most of their stars straight out of junior high, churning out one teenage cash cow after another.

      “Wait, I don’t understand,” Nash said, having obviously regained his head before I had. “You sold your soul to Dekker Media?” He frowned at me briefly, then let his gaze slide toward his brother. “I thought she sold it to a hellion.”

      “She did.” Tod’s jaw bulged in barely repressed anger. “But the deal went through John Dekker himself.”

      Wow. I was stunned into silence for the second time in as many minutes.

      John Dekker was the CEO and public face of Dekker Media, grandson of the legendary company СКАЧАТЬ