Free Biting the Bullet by Jennifer Rardin

cords that bound me to my closest friends and relatives were visible. Worse, something green and slimy had encased the cord. I could almost feel it, like an infection on my heart.
    The “wires” broke about ten feet above the stage. I landed and rolled the way I’d been taught, sustaining no damage because I wasn’t in a real body anymore. On my feet again, I felt for weapons. But of course I’d come with nothing corporeal. The Magistrate laughed heartily.
    “What a little spitfire you are!” he cried as he approached me. I backed to the edge of the stage. Thought about jumping. But he’d just pull me up again.
    “How did you bring me here?” I demanded, sounding a lot braver than I felt.
    He poked a finger toward my forehead. I jerked back before he could touch me. “You’re Marked, little girl — Uldin Beit’s blood has bought you a spiritual tatoo. And do you know what that means? I can find you anywhere. I can take your soul anytime I please.” He grinned. Gorgeous freaking demon, he could’ve made the cover of GQ twelve months running. And yet my only response was a wave of terror so huge I felt it freezing my brain, numbing my senses. And I knew I was quickly becoming the victim he wished me to be.
    I curled my fingers into fists. Though Cirilai was just the ghost of a ring, I still felt it warm on my finger, reminding me of who I was.
    Of who believed in me. The wave subsided just enough to allow me to hear my own voice, desperate, strident, practically hoarse from trying to be heard over the fear. Come on, Jaz, if he could really take your soul, he’d have done it to start with. You’ve been in bigger trouble. Not often. But you survived. Just stay on your toes and don’t, for God’s sake, do not freak.
    “You can’t make me stay here,” I said.
    “I am the Magistrate,” he crowed, throwing his hair back as if he knew just how beautifully it set off his profile. “I can do anything I like.” He pointed out to the audience. “See?”
    My neck creaked as everything in me wished I didn’t have to turn. To look. But I did. The adoring screams had changed while my eyes moved from him. As I stared outward I wished I had the means to vomit. They’d been crucified. Every one of them, nailed to crosses that spun like windmills. Except my brother. He was gone. What did that mean?
    That you have some control .
    I tested my cord. I should be able to travel right back to my body along its length. But the stuff covering it acted as a roadblock. I’d have to figure out a way to blast it off before I could get back to my body. And soon. Already the gold had begun to fade. If I waited too long I’d lose that line and never be able to find my way home.
    I stared at the Magistrate. Which was your plan all along, wasn’t it, asswipe? Just keep me here until I had no other choice.
    “I like your hair,” said the Magistrate. I ignored him, concentrated on moving up my line, but force would not remove the glop that encased the cord. “You know what that shock of white tells me?” he inquired. As if we were having a polite conversation, he went on. “It says you have a very close relative in hell who touched you on your last tour.” I looked at him then, narrowed my eyes, barely bit back a threat. Anything I said could endanger my mother.
    He giggled with delight. “You two will have such fun together.”
    “I’m not staying,” I said. I closed my eyes. Raoul, I’m in deep trouble here. Any ideas?
    No reply. I didn’t really expect any. Hell was probably way out of Raoul’s calling area.
    Another chorus of screams opened my eyes. They came, not from the audience, but from the band. A group of fighters had rushed the stage from the back. Dressed all in white, including masks that covered everything but their eyes, they attacked the demons with weapons that glittered so brightly it was hard to look at them.
    I wished Cole was with me so he could verbalize what I was thinking. He’d pop a big old