Black London 05 - Soul Trade

she’d made her decision. Left her life, left everything normal, and thrown in her lot with Jack. Had a child with him, for fuck’s sake.
    That was as entwined as it got. Andif she were honest, it wasn’t as if he’d trapped her like a princess in a maze of thorns. She cared about Jack, and had for most of her life. She loved Jack, despite all his bad mistakes and bad choices. He was the only one who’d been there for her since her father died. Jack would walk through fire for her, and even when things were as bad as they were right now, she recognized the rarity of that.

    When she’d met Jack at Victoria, they hadn’t spoken much until they were on the train, and even less after they were in motion, rolling slowly through North London and picking up speed in the Midlands.
    Lawrence’s comment wouldn’t leave her alone. She cared about Jack, knew he wasn’t perfect and would never be. She wasn’t perfect either. She had ghosts and scars. But the fact was, her ghosts didn’thave teeth, and her scars weren’t inflicted by a thing like the Morrigan. Those were facts, and much as she wanted to ignore them they remained, permanent as Jack’s tattoos. He shouldn’t be here. Shouldn’t be drawing breath, shouldn’t be walking around. He had died. Pete had watched it happen. The demon that Jack had bargained his soul to had collected and taken him to Hell. He should neverhave escaped, but he had, and when he’d died again, that should have been that. People died. Eight months visiting her da’s cancer ward had drilled that home to Pete hard and fast.
    But that hadn’t been the end, either, and when he’d escaped the clutches of the Morrigan and sent Nergal back where the demon belonged, he’d come back different.
    He wasn’t her Jack. She could pretend everything hadgone on as usual, but her Jack, the one she’d known since she was sixteen, the one with the devilish grin and the absolute disregard for anything after the next moment—that Jack had died when the demon collected his soul. When he’d returned to her after Nergal had been vanquished, he’d been different. Not someone else entirely, but as if he’d turned up with pieces missing. Part of Jack was stillwith the Morrigan, and part of the Hag rode his body in place of everything that had made him truly human.
    Pete had tried to ask him about it, once, but she’d gotten such a look from him, of murderous rage and loss and grief and fear all at once, that she’d never brought it up again. Jack didn’t remember what had happened with the Morrigan, or so he claimed, and Pete figured it was best for allif it stayed that way.
    She felt the train grind to a halt, and her eyes popped open. Jack was snoring beside her, but when she turned back to the window nothing but green greeted her. The trees stretched away on either side, moss covered and ancient. She’d never seen trees like this, so gnarled and close in.
    Pete waited for a moment for an announcement from the conductor, but none came. Thetube lights in the ceiling of the car hummed, and she fidgeted until a flash of movement caught her eye.
    The raven landed on the closest branch, impossibly large and stony-eyed. It tilted its head this way and that, and then it leaned toward her.
    “ You should go home, Weir, ” it croaked.
    Pete started, but she didn’t react otherwise. “Oh, really,” she said. “And why is that?”
    The raven hoppeda bit closer, the moss-covered branch bending dangerously under its weight. “ You know this isn’t going to end well. You are not a meddler, Weir. Leave the mages to their schemes and the gods to their plans.”
    “I’m not,” Pete agreed. “And for that reason, I don’t appreciate the Hag sticking her nose in my business.”
    “ The crow woman shares your sentiment,” said the raven. “ This is no place foryou, Weir. Your presence will only make matters worse. Destruction walks in your wake, and you should stay away … for Jack’s sake as well as yours.”
    “That’s all very menacing and portentous,” Pete said, faking. “But I’ve got a better idea—how about you fuck off, and I’ll get on with my day?” Bravado was the only thing that worked on things like the Morrigan’s messengers. It was that or scream,and she would never give the Hag the satisfaction.
    The raven shifted, head tilting to the side. “ You are not afraid of us.”
    Pete snorted. “You think you’re the first old god to visit me in my dreams? I am the