Beatrice climbed out of her car and started for her childhood home, only to stop short when a surge of power overcame her. It flowed against her skin like a strong current, and she turned to find its source. A vortex opened in the yard, and she spotted the Sin Exchange inside its mouth.
The first time she’d seen the pocket of space where Good and Evil resided, she’d been sick. Images of structures from the past had all superimposed themselves, competing for dominance in the small space the shop had inhabited. She’d even seen the stars being born and dying, as if time had no significance.
Now all she felt was a rush of heat blowing over her skin. And smelled a spicy scent that made her think of the desert.
She was somewhat surprised that it had no effect on her. Especially since she hadn’t spotted the way station since she’d tracked down a serial killer at Mardi Gras who was trying to get out of his bargain with Papa Sin.
At that first meeting, she learned she was a champion for Good and Evil, like her grandmother before her. She had already fought the battle for Good, stopping the man before he could complete his ritual and keep his soul. She had managed to restore the balance then. The only thing she feared now was the knowledge that one day she might have to do something evil in an effort to maintain the balance. It was what had destroyed her grandmother’s mind in the end.
Mama Root waited for her just inside the entrance. A woman of infinite beauty. Bronze skin that seemed to glow, and a cascade of dark hair that fell down her back. Amber eyes, swimming with wisdom and love, regarded her as she stepped inside. Beatrice had been reading her grandmother’s journals lately, preparing herself for when they called her again. She knew that both Mama Root and Papa Sin were mere reflections of the person viewing them, taking on the same ethnicity of those seeking them out.
“Champion,” Mama Root said, her voice melodious. “I have need of you.”
Beatrice braced herself. However, she was thankful Papa Sin wasn’t the one who had called her. “How can I help?” she asked, her voice croaking. She swallowed the fear down and forced a smile.
Mama Root moved toward her, placing a warm soft hand on her arm. “You have nothing to fear from me. We know about the man you hunt. The one who has taken a life.”
A tear slipped down Beatrice’s face. She knew in that instance who Mama Root was referring to. Sam Guthrie. Her gut clenched. Could the man have bargained with Papa Sin to protect him? Is that why she was having a hard time bringing him to justice? Why all the evidence had been contaminated?
Mama Root swiped her tears away and smiled. “Your heart is heavy. You wish to do more?”
Beatrice lifted her hands, splaying them in front of her. “I can’t. The laws prevent me from doing what is right. What I know and what I can prove are two different things. I am bound by the oath I’ve taken. By the laws I . . . I believe in.” At least, deep down, she thought she did. But now she knew the laws rarely protected those who needed them the most.
“You don’t have to worry any longer. Storm Raven has been called. She will get the justice needed.” Mama Root frowned. “But her powerful presence upset the balance.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small amber vial. “When the deed is done, take this to Rosette Baptiste. An act of good this powerful will make it right.”
“What deed?” Beatrice asked, studying the bottle while the name Storm Raven tickled at her memory.
Mama Root placed the bottle in her hand, closing her fingers around it. “You must let this justice play out. You will know when it has.”
A war raged inside of Beatrice—and the memory of who Storm Raven was finally took root. She’d seen an image of the being created by vengeance and pain in one of her grandmother’s journals. If she had been called, Sam would meet his death very soon. And the embodiment of Good was asking her to not intervene. She studied the small bottle, trying to decide what to do. Trying to make peace with her years of training and her belief in the laws she was sworn to uphold.
“Is this what being a champion means?” she asked, not looking up. “Letting evil win?” She looked up then, meeting Mama Root’s eyes. They were filled with sadness.
A single nod was all she got by way of answer.
One of Beatrice Monroe’s greatest fears had come to life.