Son of a succubus, I hate this place.

Purgatory. I had hoped to never see it again. The shifting mists and gray shadows crawled across the floor. It was recognizable by its stifling stillness and never-ending void. I looked up and saw the gray blend into a black sky peppered with stars.

Symbols were across it in several colors. The closest ones were: a red flame, a white rose, a purple crescent moon slowly phasing to full, and a barely distinguishable irregular circle that was lighter at the edges and faded to an all-consuming black.

That sky hadn't changed, but this wasn't the same purgatory I had been to before. I remembered a vast Eden of plants in every type, and a girl of unparalleled beauty caring for them. I tried to breathe as I thought of what to do, but my attention felt scattered. Questions swirled in my mind as I turned and turned.

One of the bookcases drifted overhead as I looked around. If I listened closely enough, I could hear indistinct whispers above the quiet. My nerves hung on a knife's edge as I tried to spy the man among the floating shelves. Gods, I wished he would just get it over with. I knew he wanted me dead, but I couldn't figure out the purpose of going after Myra. Furthermore, I couldn't figure out how I was suddenly in Purgatory of all places.

Why am I here?

"You will find out momentarily," a tenor voice echoed through the shelves. I pivoted on my heel, but the voice seemed to come from all directions. I instinctively reached for my pistols, but my hands only closed around the stupid robe.

"You're able to read my mind?" I asked, sinking into a defensive stance. Shelf upon shelf obscured my vision in an ever-shifting labyrinth. They were simply everywhere, brimming with leather volumes of every thickness, shape, and length. A light chuckle bounced across them.

"I'm afraid this fight is not over, My Lady. However, I must admit, your attempts to survive have been valiant."

I couldn't hold back a scoff as I continued to circle. This voice matched the grunts of the cloaked man from the barn. I was sure he wouldn't be so arrogant if he stood in front of me, but he seemed content to hide. I crossed my arms across my chest and examined the nails of one hand.

"Pardon my lack of fear, but I seem to remember blowing your head off not too long ago," I said remorselessly. "Now, if you don't mind, I have things to do, and criminals to kill. So kindly send me back to the physical realm or face me like a man."

The shelves suddenly closed around me in a hexagon. More shelves stacked on top until they formed an endless tower of books on all sides. I frowned up at them. I knew I was being played with.

"Such a bloodthirsty little vixen! I've heard you would do anything but kill a target lately. Why the change of heart?"

I smirked, looking around for the source of the voice again. He had to be hiding among the books. I experimentally pulled at one of them, but it remained firmly in place.

"You want to know why I'm more willing to kill now? That's easy. I was hesitant to feed...certain parts of myself. I got a little gun-shy after paying the first part of my debt," I replied. Gods I wished I had a weapon. The robe felt pathetically thin around me. I knew I could use that ability, but it was too soon. He could still be anywhere, and I hadn't used it in a long time. I had to keep stalling until he showed himself.

"But we're getting off the subject. Why am I here?" I asked, glancing upward into the black. Somehow bleak light bled to where I stood, but the sky remained dark. I took a closer look at the books, and realized they were labeled. The script was a neat cursive, but I recognized names on the spines of the books.

Maris Lunai, Joseph Para, and Notono Murosaki were some of the names I read before the voice interrupted me.

"You have unfortunately interrupted my master's plans, and that cannot be allowed to stand," he said in a sycophantic tone. "I do apologize, but you are not going back to the physical plane."

"You think you can kill me? Oh darling, I dare you try," I said, genuinely amused. I opened my arms wide in welcome.

"Believe me, there are ways. When a soul dies in this realm, it is destroyed and banished to the deepest pits for eons of unendurable agony." he explained. His voice seemed to rotate as he spoke. One moment it was behind me, and the next it was above. I knew he was trying to scare me, but I refused to give him what he wanted.

"I feel it is only fair to warn you. Both of you have earned that much," he continued, but I could hear the sadism in his voice. I lifted a brow in surprise as the meaning of his words hit me.

"Both of us? Who are you talking to?" I asked as I laughed. His laugh matched my own, bouncing off the walls of volumes.

"You're not too observant, Sweet," he corrected. "Look down."

Rolling my eyes, I did as he asked. I didn't know what game he was playing, but it was getting boring. However, as I looked at the floor, my breath caught.

The floor looked like a mirror, but I had two reflections standing back to back. One version wore an aura of pale light. Her eyes had the radiant blue light of a Deified, the veins of light trailing up her neck from a single Mark. She looked up at me anxiously, her eyes pleading.

The other reflection wore an aura of shadows, and her veins were inky-black. They were two voids with red irises, and even the skin surrounding her eyes had darkened. She grinned at me wickedly. As if nothing made her happier than hunting for a kill.

"Well," I said as calmly as I could. "That's hardly fair. You get to be strong and read my mind, and all I get is a split personality."

I closed my eyes, trying to stop time. I was sick of this game, and I wanted to get out of here.

Nothing happened.

What the--

"I wouldn't sell yourself short. You also have that neat parlor trick that turned my skull into an ash tray. It makes me wonder what other skills that pretty face is hiding. Your goddess must be so proud. If only this was her territory."

I struggled to keep my face even, tearing my eyes away from the reflected floor. I knew he was a special type of arrogant if he dared to mention a goddess so casually.

"She can take a bath in a bonfire for all I care," I said quietly. "Now are you going to face me, or what?"

There was no reply as my voice joined the quiet whispers in the void. I looked down and saw my darker reflection was staring directly at me. Shadows pulsed from her in every-expanding waves. My brighter self shot her a skeptical glance as her light ebbed. For some reason, I couldn't stop time here. So that left only one option.

"Your goddess is weak to tolerate such disrespect. It matters not, however," the man replied as I reached for the shadows again. They caressed my fingers, and seemed to read my intent. I spread my hand wide open, and the shadows shot out like arrows, darting from darkness to darkness and disappearing among the shelves.

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A book pulled out from a shelf above, and lowered itself to my height. The cover was the exact color of dried blood; not quite black, but not a healthy red either. It wasn't especially large, but it was thick with several pages.

The book levitated, rotating slowly until I saw the front cover reflected the dull light. The script was the exact shade of violet as my eyes. I felt my heart pound as I read the cover.

Rowena Elizabeth McAlister

"You know, I rather think this book fits your soul. Not all books do, but my master really seemed to get yours right," the cloaked man said. He materialized from the opposite wall, grabbing my book. The hood of his cloak had fallen away at last to reveal a man's face. The features kept altering, however, and his reflection did as well. One moment he had light skin, and the next it was the color of charcoal. The eyes went from narrow to wide, and varied a rainbow of colors. His hair changed form, texture, and length by the second. Each style blended smoothly to the next.

"You're a shape changer. That explains a lot," I said quietly. He grinned with stunningly white teeth.

"Correct," he said smugly. He grabbed my book and pulled it to his chest. I kept stalling for time, sending him a smile of my own. I poured my energy into my shadows, but it left me feeling weak. My abilities felt so sluggish here. Even the smallest manipulation felt like lifting a boulder.

"Do you have any last questions?" he asked as he played with my name spelled in script.

"I'll get all the answers I want from you later. I can't promise it'll be pleasant for you, though," I replied. He shook his head, still smiling.

"I regret to be the one to tell you this..." he trailed off as he opened my book to the beginning. He grabbed a page, caressing its end. I swore I felt the same caress along my back. I closed my eyes, feeling my shadows and telling them where to go. They were almost where I wanted them. He laughed darkly as I looked away.

"But your story has come to an end."

Grabbing the page between two fingers, he tore it out. As he did, a section of the skin along my back tore off with it. It was a beyond any physical pain I had ever felt. It was like fire and ice replaced that area. I immediately felt sick and I fought to stay standing. I refocused on my shadows.

Come on. Almost there.

He tossed the page aside like it was a piece of rotten meat. It hung suspended, and then evaporated into a brief flash of light. The light took the form of a beautiful woman with clever blue eyes. She bent toward a toddler girl with black hair, her face beaming in a smile. The imaged hovered before dissolving into a shower of light. I felt something in my mind shift, and suddenly it was like the image was from someone else's soul. The memory felt like it had been made up by a talented artist instead of coming straight from head.

The pain continued to pulse through me as the shifter looked at the sparks of memory, his hand caressing them.

"Such a pretty image from such a dark mind," he said as he reached for the second page. "Now then, let's continue."

I shot my hand out as if grabbing a rope and pulled. There was a hissing sound as shadows curved around his fingers and dug in. My shadows stopped his tearing halfway through the page. This time I felt something burn across my back, but it wasn't as bad as the first time. I still couldn't hold back a grimace as I fought to concentrate.

Tendrils of darkness swirled around his neck, arms, waist, and legs. I saw him struggle, muscles bulging, and he growled as he saw his reflection. It too was bound in darkness. I smiled even as I felt him pull.

"You know, you were right," I said shakily through the effort.

"That book does match my soul."

He grunted again as a shadow pulled tighter around his neck. I tightened my grip everywhere, and forced his fingers apart. The page fell away from his shaking fingers as we held one another in a stand-off. He glared at me as I saw something in the air shift around him. His grimace turned calculating as I saw him grow bigger.

And bigger.

And bigger.

He turned into a type of human I had only seen in rare books. They were a type of mountain people that grew to almost ten feet tall and were bound in muscle. Some thought they were myths meant to scare children to sleep. They were a figure of some story-teller's overactive imagination.

A Behemoth.

Shit on a biscuit.

My shadows retracted to allow the shifter's sudden massive size. I put all my energy into the shadows around his fingers and arms, somehow forcing to open more as he finished his transformation. My book dropped from his grasp as I felt sweat build everywhere. The book resumed its hovering, and we both gazed at it.

The shifter huffed a breath and tried to reach for it. He was so strong that he succeeded in dragging me forward an inch. I ground my heels in and tried to stabilize myself. I threw my weight backward, my strength spread evenly in the tendrils of darkness, but I might as well have tried to stop an avalanche. His hand made contact with the spine again and he started to close his fingers around it.

An idea came suddenly.

I saw that the shifter's legs were still bound, and all his attention was on his arms. His legs had twisted awkwardly as he had grown, and now all of his weight was thrust forward to reach down to my book. My shadows had gone from binding his legs, to partially supporting them.

I let them dissolve.

Predictably, he toppled forward from his sudden release. I changed my line of pull on his arms from keeping them apart, to pulling him down. He didn't have time to react as he fell belly-down onto the hard floor. I raced forward as he recovered, letting his arm tethers dissolve and using my remaining energy to gather more darkness. I stepped on the back of his head and used my other leg to kick my book high into the tower.

It felt like I had kicked my own ass.

I landed and propelled myself backward away from the Behemoth, but not before I caught sight of my book sliding back onto a high shelf.

A fist connected with my stomach, and I only just barely jumped with the momentum of the blow to diminish the damage. I was still propelled high into the air as I coughed up blood. I didn't think it was possible to bleed in Purgatory, but apparently I had been wrong.

Oh my damned Gods it hurt, but years upon years of sparring with Stone kicked in. I forced myself to ignore the pain as I started to fall. I twisted and caught a shelf with my fingertips. I brought my legs under me and kicked away from the wall just as a second fist collided with where I just was. However, the shelves were protected by some sort of force. It rippled with the impact before settling into transparency again.

I flipped in the air and landed behind the Behemoth. Rearing back, I formed my shadows into fine points. It started with one shadow spear. Then it became two, then four, then eight and so on. The Behemoth turned just in time to have me throw over fifty shadow spears into him. He reared with the impacts, and his back collided with the wall. He sank to his knees, the spears still jutting from his body at odd angles.

He stopped moving.

I panted, unsure of what to do. I looked around, and suddenly the shelves shifted. The tower broke apart, and they started to drift randomly again.

I watched them, my eyes going hazy.

I knew I had overextended myself. My energy was simply gone. Even breathing was too much effort. I simply couldn't get enough air as the room clouded even more. I tried to move, but my legs buckled. I went to my knees with my hands braced one the floor in front of me. I gagged, and then a fountain of blood came out of my mouth in heaves.

I heard a wet cough, and managed to stop heaving even as my arms gave away. I collapsed fully onto the floor, and saw the shifter had returned to his original size. He looked at me over a gaping hole in his throat, as well as several matching ones in his chest.

We met one another's eyes for several moments before my soul finally gave out, and blackness took me.

*******

I became aware of frost on my skin, and dirt caked onto my face. The smell of rotten wood and hay was heavily mixed with cold night air. I came back to myself in fits and starts, and my mind felt muddled.

I was back in the barn.

Groaning, I rolled over. Every part of me hurt, and my hands shook as they rubbed my face. Closing my eyes, I tried to focus on my breathing as I tried to remember what happened.

The shifter.

My eyes flew open. I tucked into a crouch and grasped my pistols. They felt satisfyingly solid in my hands as I looked around. The sky was still dark, but flakes of snow were visible in the plane. None of them had gathered on the ground yet, even though it was cold enough to do so. I realized that our time in Purgatory had seemed like almost fifteen minutes, but only a few had passed in the physical plane.

I backed out of the barn, my guard up. Nothing moved or attacked. It was perfectly silent. I realized I was alone, and relaxed with a sigh. I saw that the stars held just enough light to show the old wood of the external barn. Part of the light illuminated the wall, and my eyes instantly focused on letters drawn on it in wet blood.

We'll settle this another time, Sweet.

I gritted my teeth, angry at myself for staying asleep long enough for him to get away. I looked at the message as I remembered something else. A pretty something with a damned posh accent.

"Myra," I muttered as I sprinted back to the house, my entire body aching with each step.