Soul Deep: Dark Souls, Book 2 (15 page)

Regan stiffened beside him, and Marcus anticipated the barrage of questions that would eventually come. But for the time being, she was too shocked to speak.

Adrian looked them over, wariness and mistrust scrawled all over his face. “What are you doing here?” There was no welcome in his voice, nothing to indicate he was secretly thrilled to be graced with an unexpected visit from his father.

“You owe me a favor.” Marcus squeezed his way past him into what was indisputably a bachelor pad. “I’m here to collect.”

Adrian stormed in after him, anger pulsing off his taut body. “And you think you can just drop by whenever you please, raid my location—”

“Who’s raiding anything? Unless you consider a woman and a small child an army.”

“The Watchers aren’t welcome here,” Adrian reminded him. “We have a deal.”

“I didn’t come as a Watcher. I have no intention of disrupting your idyllic little community.”

Adrian’s frozen features showed no signs of thawing. “Then why
are
you here?”

“We need a place to lie low for a while. Somewhere safe.”

Regan remained by the door, clutching Ben to her chest as though afraid Adrian would rip him from her arms any minute now. Marcus didn’t blame her for being nervous. Rogues had a reputation for being both relentless and unpredictable, especially when they coveted a soul.
 

“Who are you running from?” Adrian dissected Marcus with his surgical gaze.

“The same people you once ran from.”

Frigid caution gave way to surprise. “Kyros I can believe, but surely you’re not referring to the Watchers?”

“Cal and I had a disagreement,” he reluctantly admitted.

A chortle resonated from Adrian’s chest. “I never thought I’d see the day.”

Marcus released an exasperated breath and ventured farther into the sparsely decorated townhouse. “So will you help us?”

Adrian prowled after him. His body language oozed defiance, but something in his eyes—a sense of duty, the desire to repay an old debt—gave Marcus hope.

“Cal barely tolerates our existence as it is. If I hide you, it may give him the incentive he needs to shut us down.”

“It’s a very real possibility.” Marcus refused to lie to him. “Then again, I once took a risk for you.”

A look passed between them, laden with meaning. For a few seconds, neither of them spoke, both lost in the memory of their last encounter. Then his son’s composure changed, and his resistance slowly shattered. Either that or the man was desperate to be rid of him.

Adrian walked over to a console in the living room, opened a drawer where a fistful of keys lay on a burgundy velvet liner, organized by number. “Unit 10C is vacant. You can use it for a few days, but don’t get too comfortable.” With reticent fingers, he snatched the key ring labeled 10C and handed it to Marcus. “I don’t want any trouble,” he warned. “I’ve worked too hard to build this place.”

Marcus gratefully accepted the key. “I appreciate it. Consider your debt fully repaid.”

The ice finally melted, and Adrian’s mouth curled slightly at the corners. “I would’ve helped you even if I didn’t owe you. But don’t make a habit of showing up on my doorstep.”

Marcus returned his son’s halfhearted smile. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Unit 10C was a mirror image of Adrian’s, with stark white walls, terracotta tiles devoid of carpeting, and furniture that was as scarce as it was basic. Regan’s footsteps echoed off the vaulted ceiling as she walked across the shiny hardwood floor, taking it all in. A two-story foyer graced the entrance, opening up to a small living room, a utilitarian kitchen and a breakfast nook. The winding staircase on her left led to the second floor, which she assumed housed the bedrooms. The shades covering the windows were drawn, filtering the light and casting a hazy white glow throughout the house.

The place would never grace the cover of
Architectural Digest
, but it was clean and homey and inviting. It wasn’t the townhouse itself she had a problem with. What unsettled her was that it was located smack in the heart of a Rogue community.

She was still processing all she’d learned. Marcus had a son. His son was a Rogue. And he was somehow responsible for this strange assembly of civilized monsters. Though she’d longed to bombard Marcus with questions, she hadn’t said a single word in Adrian’s presence, afraid of drawing his attention to Ben. Regardless of what Marcus said, she couldn’t bring herself to trust a Rogue.

“I thought you killed him.” These were the first words she’d spoken to Marcus since they’d left Adrian’s townhouse.

“I said I was ordered to kill him. I never said I actually went through with it.” He took Ben from her arms, then gently placed him on the dark blue suede-upholstered couch. With a tenderness that surprised her, he grabbed a fleece throw from a nearby chair and spread it over the boy.

“Help me out here, Marcus, because I’m seriously freaking out.” The cap she wore to conceal her hair was starting to annoy her, so she whipped it off. Her thick mass of curls instantly tumbled over her back and shoulders. “I know he’s your son, but how do you know we can trust him?”

He turned to face her, his expression calm and sure. “Because somewhere out there, he’s got a soul.”

“So do many Rogues. That doesn’t mean they’re in touch with them. Without the Watchers’ bond—”

“A Hybrid is powerless to resist his dark urges. Yes, I know. But Adrian’s special. He’s built a community here, not much different from the Watchers.”

“Are you saying he has the power to forge a bond between his recruits, like Cal?”

Marcus shook his head. “Not exactly. Cal uses angel’s blood to link our souls together. Think of it like a network of computers feeding off one huge power source.
 

“Adrian doesn’t possess Cal’s ability to link souls, nor does he have access to angel’s blood. But he does have a gift that’s just as effective. He knows how to get through to people. Somehow, he subdues the darkness and makes everyone around him, even Rogues, long to be decent.”
 

More confused than ever, Regan trudged into the living room and dropped into the welcoming embrace of an armchair. “So you’re telling me none of these guys feed? Ever?”

Marcus ran a weary palm over his face. “Adrian doesn’t. He hasn’t for almost twenty-five years. But the others do.”

“And Cal accepts that?”

“He and Adrian have an understanding.” He came to sit on the armrest beside her.

“What kind of understanding?”

“The Rogues in this community only feed on diseased souls. The State of Washington believes in the death penalty. Most of Adrian’s recruits have jobs that allow them to attend executions. Some are lawyers, others are cops. I think one of them is even a judge. Their goal is to identify irreparably damaged souls, then eliminate them.”

Marcus captured her gaze, held it. “I’m not talking about your common thug,” he explained. “I’m talking about rapists and serial killers and pedophiles. Souls that cannot be redeemed.”

An old recollection sparked to life within her. “I remember him—Adrian, the vigilante, the Rogue who hunted criminals. You were after him when I first joined the Watchers. You chased him for years, but he was always one step ahead of you.” Then he’d just dropped off the radar. Word around the complex was that he’d died. She hadn’t put it together till now, but suddenly everything fell into place.

Marcus seemed pleased that she’d finally clued in. “We didn’t know he had a soul back then. We thought he was beyond redemption.” A flicker of pride passed behind his eyes. “We were wrong. Adrian is stronger than us all. So strong that a mere memory is enough to sustain him.”

Regan shook her head in awe. “How did he manage to domesticate a bunch of Rogues? They’re like rabid dogs.” Some Rogues were born with souls, some weren’t, but they all had two things in common—their incessant need to feed and their total lack of self-control.
 

The question was meant to be rhetorical, but he answered it anyway. “By picking only Hybrids and by identifying them early. Most of them he recruited when they were still human.”

“How does he find them?”

“Through an outreach program that caters to troubled youth. It should come as no surprise that many delinquents are actually Hybrids.”

Regan couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “So Adrian is competing directly with Cal, and Cal’s all right with that?”

Marcus gave her a crooked grin that threatened to melt her bones. “You’re forgetting Cal’s favorite catch phrase. Free will. Every creature has the right to choose his path. As long as these Rogues don’t purposely harm humanity, the Watchers have no recourse against them. If at any point people start turning up dead, however, all bets are off.”

To think this secret Rogue society had existed for decades and she’d been completely unaware of it. “Why didn’t you ever tell me about this place?”

“Cal and I agreed a long time ago to keep it hush-hush. The last thing we wanted was to lose all our potential recruits.”

“Freedom, peace, the right to feed and no vow of celibacy. Sure sounds like a sweeter deal to me.”

Marcus shifted his weight, and his arm skimmed hers. “Maybe I should ask Adrian to let us stay indefinitely.” His voice was low and sultry, caressing even as it teased.

“I doubt he wants his father around messing in his business. Especially one who’s so damn bossy.” He smiled in response, and a silent thrill resonated through her. “Plus, I can’t picture you in a suit.”

“Never know, I might get used to it.” With the back of his hand, he brushed the hair from her shoulder. His fingers hovered beside her neck, the air around them pulsating with the promise of a touch that never came. “There are a lot of things I could get used to.” He spoke so softly, so silkily, her skin tingled as though stroked by the words.

His hand fell away, and she stifled a groan. Why did he have to be so damned disciplined? He’d been celibate for one hundred and ninety-three years, almost two freaking centuries. What made her think he’d break his precious vow for her? She was handy with a blade, a whiz at battle, but seduction required eyelash batting and hip swaying, not fancy footwork.
 

Feeling uncharacteristically sorry for herself, she stood abruptly. “I’m going to go get the stuff from the car.” Her voice sounded flat, laced with bitter disappointment.

Marcus beat her to the door. “I’ll take care of it. You stay and watch over the ki—Ben. You stay and watch over Ben.”

Regan smiled through her frustration. He’d called the boy by his name, and that small acknowledgement lifted her spirits. Maybe there was hope for him yet.

The conference room was exceptionally quiet. A solemn hush hung over the Watchers as they gathered to go over their strategy and reflect on the catastrophe they’d just averted. They all looked to Cal for guidance, but for the first time in ages he found himself devoid of answers.

The TV screens behind him were all on but muted. Now more than ever the Watchers had to remain alert, their fingers poised on the weak, unsteady pulse of the world.

“Kyros is growing too confident,” he told them. “What we witnessed in Eugene was only the beginning.”
 

Cal wished he could look to the heavens for a sign, to ask the council for advice as he had once done. But that bridge had been burned several millennia ago, and according to Lillith, even the angels were now corrupt. “Kyros has openly declared war on humanity. If we don’t find a way to stop him, everything we’ve fought to preserve will be lost.”

“Then why are we wasting all our manpower hunting Marcus and Regan,” Jace challenged, “when we should be focusing our efforts on locating Kyros?”

“Because if what I’ve learned is true, and if Kyros succeeds in ingesting Benjamin’s soul, he will be virtually unstoppable.”

“That’s a mouthful of ifs.” Jace insisted on testing his patience. The man never could take an order gracefully. “If you want my opinion—and I know you probably don’t, but I’ll give it to you just the same—we need to make damn sure we get to Kyros before he gets to Ben.”

“I agree,” Lia pitched in, always ready to support her lover. “Ben’s just a little boy. Kyros is the true threat.”

Cal bit back his frustration. “If the angels wish to see their plan through to fruition, they will find a way to protect Kyros. I already sensed an angel’s hand at work in Eugene. If I’m correct, then we won’t get anywhere near Kyros. Not as long as the boy lives.”

The hush deepened, a mournful stillness that set Cal’s teeth on edge. The others didn’t know what he knew. They didn’t understand how determined the angels could be when they set their minds on a particular course of action. Thwarting fate was no small feat.

He turned to Thomas, the recruit he’d assigned to track Regan, Marcus and the boy. “Do you have any news for me?”

Thomas visibly squirmed beneath his cap of golden curls. He was a decent tracker, but not nearly as gifted as Marcus. “No.” His voice fell to a whisper. “I can’t seem to pick up their trail. I had them cornered,” he argued in his own defense. “Who would’ve expected them to take off in a fucking boat?”