Soul Deep: Dark Souls, Book 2 (32 page)

She was right, and that truth was a double-edged blade lodged in his chest. His wife had desperately wanted a child, and he would’ve done anything to see her dream fulfilled. Even make a deal with the devil.

“I haven’t forgotten my sins. Far from it. That is why I fight every day to rid the world of the darkness I cast upon it. I won’t stop until every drop of cursed blood has been purged from the earth.”

“Perhaps. But are you willing to sacrifice every last man, woman and child to accomplish that goal? Because if you are, by all means, let the boy live.”

Cal knew when he was trapped between a rock and hard place. Lillith was right. Their endgames might be different, but they shared a common purpose—to prevent a flood that could obliterate an entire planet. “I’m aware of what I have to do. I don’t need you popping in whenever the mood strikes you to remind me.” He’d been her superior once. He hoped the old chain of command still applied. “Stay out of this, Lillith.”

“No.” The icy determination on her face chilled him right down to the marrow of his bones. “I think I’ve been patient enough. It’s time I take a more active role in this ridiculous fiasco. Don’t you agree?”

Before Cal could reply, the air fizzled, and she was gone.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Cool air laced with the scent of newborn grass struck Jace as he stomped out of the Watchers’ complex. Morning dew coated the ground, and the smell of spring hung heavy in the air. A fat sun, hidden by a thin veil of clouds, slowly scaled the horizon, its meager light gilding everything it touched.

Jace cut his way through a bramble of Douglas firs, ignoring the harsh scrape of their needles. Nothing would stop him from reaching his destination.

Something bristled behind him, and for a second he thought it was an elk dashing away. Then Lia squeezed through a cluster of trees and came to stand beside him.

“Where on earth are you going? I saw you tear out of the complex like a man possessed. What happened with Cal?”

Her sudden appearance snapped him out of his morbid thoughts. “He refused to call off his posse. I need to get to Regan before it’s too late.”

“That’s impossible. The team left hours ago.”

“Don’t be so sure about that.” He resumed his frantic trek through the woods. “There’s a way I can make it there in a flash.”

Lia pleated her brows in confusion and plowed after him. “What way? Have you figured out how to fold space like Regan?”

Jace shook his head. “Not up here. But down below, in the catacombs, everything’s different.”

She raced to keep up. “The catacombs collapsed last summer. You know that.”

“Yeah.” His gaze flitted to hers. “But I can rebuild them. I know how Athanatos did it. I see the world on a subatomic level, same as him. One concentrated thought and I can will them into existence again.”

He came upon the spot where an entrance to the Kleptopsychs’ underground world had once yawned. Raising his arms, he dug deep within himself for the astronomical amount of energy required to re-erect the tunnels that, in the past, had served to hide their enemies from them.

Lia grabbed his forearm, stopping him. “Have you thought this through? When the catacombs collapsed, it was a blessing. It forced the Kleptopsychs out in the open. If you rebuild these tunnels and they gain access to them again—”

“That won’t happen.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I’ll be the one in control this time. I’ll keep the Kleptopsychs out the same way Athanatos kept us out.” He gripped her hands in his, attempted to reassure her by dropping his guard and allowing her to gaze directly into his thoughts, into the soul they both shared. “I can do this, Lia. Trust me.”

Her features softened as her inhibitions melted away. “I
do
trust you. More than anyone.”

“Then let me save them. I’m the only one who can.”

She nodded but refused to release his hands. “I won’t stand in your way, but I have a request of my own.”

“What’s that?”

“Take me with you.”

His muscles hardened to ice. “It’s too dangerous. I don’t know what I’ll be walking into if I make it to Spokane. And Cal doesn’t have a clue what I’m planning to do. I’m not sure how he’ll react when he finds out I went behind his back.”

“I don’t care.”

“You may end up being branded a traitor, like Regan and Marcus.”

Lia wouldn’t yield. The firm set of her mouth, the stubborn gleam in her eyes, confirmed it. “How many times do I need to tell you my place is with you?” She squeezed his fingers. “I’m not staying behind.”

Jace swallowed his inhibitions and released a long-winded sigh. “All right. Have it your way.” He pulled himself free of her grasp. “If I’m going to do this, I need you to stand back.”

When Lia placed a safe distance between them, he spread his arms wide and focused his mind on the vibrating mass of molecules that made up the earth, willing them to part as he had last summer when Lia had been taken prisoner by Athanatos.

The ground rumbled and shook, then slowly began to part. A familiar trench opened at their feet. Gray puffs of steam rose from the ground to engulf them. Lia returned to his side, staring down the wide canyon with unmasked awe.

“I’ve heard the story of you parting the earth so many times, I’ve lost count. But it’s nothing compared to the reality of seeing it for myself.”

He reached for her hand again, folded it within his. “Ready?”

His work wasn’t done yet—he’d only scratched the surface—but he couldn’t quit until the catacombs had been restored to their former glory. His mother’s life depended on it.

Lia gave him a blood-warming smile. “I’m ready.”

Hand in hand, they leapt into the vaporous abyss.

Regan stood at the window, wondering what was keeping Marcus, when a familiar wave of dark energy slammed into her. The Watchers had invaded their safe haven. She could feel them closing in. Fighting an onslaught of panic, she hastened to the bedroom to retrieve her dagger, only to realize the damn thing was useless. Her little swim yesterday had wiped the blade clean of angel’s blood, as it had probably done to Marcus’s dagger as well. She sheathed the weapon anyway. At the very least, it could be used to deflect the blows.

She had to get out of here, find Marcus and warn him…

Before she could fold space, the atmosphere hissed, and a tall, pale woman appeared, clad in a tailored black suit. Regan didn’t recognize her, and mistrust coiled in her gut. Who was she? A new recruit?

Regan raised her dagger. Without angel’s blood, it wouldn’t inflict any damage on her kind, but the intruder didn’t know the dagger was harmless. “I don’t want to hurt you,” she said. “So back off.”

The blonde didn’t heed the warning. “Are you referring to this?” She indicated Regan’s weapon with an arrogant smirk. Then she did something that stunned Regan speechless. She bridged the distance between them and slid her palm across the blade. When the woman withdrew her hand, a thin gash cleaved her palm, oozing blood.
 

Impossible. Whatever the blonde was, she wasn’t a Kleptopsych or a Hybrid. Nor was she human, given the way she’d materialized from thin air. Regan should’ve tucked tail and disappeared, but curiosity got the better of her. “What the hell are you?”

The stranger gripped Regan by the wrist with her bloodied hand, and red-hot agony shot through her, an acid burn that made weakness crawl through her limbs.

When the woman released her, Regan inspected her wrist. Her skin was red and raw and covered with nasty blisters. There was only one substance that could do that to her—angel’s blood.

“Where is he?” the stranger snarled. “Where’s the boy?”

Regan stumbled back, fighting the effects of the angel’s blood razing through her system. “Go to hell.”

“I’ve already been there.” Another ice-cold smile slashed across the angel’s face. “Take my word for it, heaven is far worse.”

Surprisingly enough, Regan’s wound healed almost as quickly as it was inflicted, most likely thanks to the countless souls she’d ingested last night. Weakness still plagued her, however, and her ability to fold space had been compromised. She should’ve vanished when she had the chance, but how the hell could she have guessed the woman was a frigging angel?

The blonde circled her like a vulture anticipating the death of its prey. “Where is he?” she asked again.

Regan shuffled back toward the door. “I’ll die before I tell you.”

“That can be arranged.” The angel clenched her injured hand, and blood leaked from her fist to puddle on the floor. The mere sight of it made Regan’s skin crawl. “You stupid little half-breed. You have no idea what you’ve set in motion, the damage you’ve caused. By protecting the boy, you’ve all but guaranteed the demise of your entire race.”

“So,” Regan challenged, “what’s it to you? What do
you
have to lose?”

The woman’s face turned ugly. “My legacy.”

Regan spun on her heels and sprinted down the stairs. She had no idea what kind of power an angel wielded or if she even stood a chance of escaping, but she had to try. When she reached the bottom, the angel stood at the foot of the stairwell, waiting for her. Regan halted, nearly losing her footing.

The angel reached for her again. The wound had healed, but blood still coated her hand. Regan stumbled back, knowing that if she used her dagger she would only draw more blood. The very blood that was poisonous to her. So she kicked her attacker in the abdomen instead. The angel screamed and flew across the room, slamming into the wall behind her.

A spider web of cracks spread from the point of the crash, but the angel didn’t as much as flinch. With an insane howl, she flung herself at Regan. Regan collapsed on the stairs, rupturing the staircase and sending a flutter of wooden splinters raining down on the hardwood floor. She reached for her dagger, which had landed two steps down. She only had a couple of seconds before the angel launched another attack.

The blonde flew at her again. Angling her weapon, Regan waited for the crazy bitch to impale herself on the blade, well aware that she’d be doused in angel’s blood upon impact.

An impact that never came.

A bang rent the atmosphere, and the front door burst open. The angel vanished in midflight, just as a group of Watchers rushed into the townhouse to encircle Regan.

Chapter Forty

The bed was empty. A rumpled sheet lay discarded in a white heap on the floor. There was no sign of a struggle and no sign of Ben. Marcus spat out a curse. “He’s gone.”

“I don’t understand.” Adrian shoved his way through the narrow doorway and entered the deathly silent bedroom. “I was right across the hall all night. He couldn’t have gotten out without me hearing him.”

Marcus walked up to the bed, palmed the toy figure that sat on the nightstand, one of two that had come with the construction set Regan had bought back in Portland. The plastic resonated with echoes of Ben’s energy. Energy that would hopefully lead him straight to the boy. “I’m not exactly sure what we’re dealing with here, but I’m willing to bet whoever took Ben didn’t use the front door. Feels like he just appeared out of nowhere.”

The Watchers were close. He felt them. “We’ve run out of time. They’re here.”

Adrian’s gaze turned inward, and Marcus knew he was staring past the walls of the house to the place where the Watchers had invaded his peaceful community. “I see them.” His head snapped up. “They’ve got Regan surrounded.”

Fear clogged Marcus’s throat, prying another oath from between his clenched teeth. “I have to go to her.” Shoving the toy figure in his pocket, he headed out of the room and raced down the stairs.

“I’m coming with you,” Adrian offered, launching himself after Marcus.

“No.” The last thing he wanted was to see Adrian at war with the Watchers again. “You get your people out of here. I’m grateful for your help, but you’ve built something here—a community. I won’t let you sacrifice it for me.”

“I can’t turn my back on you now. You need my help.”

“What I need is for you to get the hell out of here. The Watchers don’t know about your arrangement with Cal. If they come across a bunch of Rogues, I guarantee things will get ugly, especially with Thomas in the lead. The guy’s the type who shoots first and asks questions later.” Marcus’s insides curdled at the thought of the potential slaughter that would result if the Watchers ran into Adrian’s recruits…or worse, if Adrian decided to challenge them. His son had lived in peaceful seclusion for decades. Most everyone believed him dead. If he showed his face, the ramifications would reach far and wide.

“I won’t have another death on my conscience.” Marcus donned the non-negotiable expression he’d learned from Cal. “I’ll handle this on my own.”

Reluctance played across Adrian’s face. Still, he gave Marcus a hesitant nod. “I’ll get my people to safety. Then I’m coming back. For you.”

Convinced Adrian would keep his word and stay out of the line of fire, for the time being, anyhow, Marcus propelled himself out the front door, taking the path that would lead him back to Regan. He’d barely turned the corner, when Thomas and a slew of Watchers barreled out of one of the houses.