Soul Deep: Dark Souls, Book 2 (5 page)

And over what? Some silly angel rumor? How did Cal keep getting his hands on this kind of information, anyway? None of them had ever as much as seen an angel, but Cal had an endless supply of angel’s blood, was versed in Enochian script, and was apparently privy to all their discussions.

What was the deal with that?

“Regan, can you help me?” Ben’s small, timid voice jolted her out of her thoughts before doubt could morph into outright suspicion.

Forcing a smile, she went to sit beside him on the concrete floor. “What’s this supposed to be?”

“A pirate ship, but none of the pieces fit.”

The tightening sensation in her chest amplified. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

They worked in silence for a few minutes, Regan guiding his clumsy little hands as he labored to assemble the puzzle. From the looks of it, the kid hadn’t had much practice. “When’s the last time you worked on a puzzle?” she asked him.

He hitched his shoulder, his gaze flitting briefly to her face. “Never.”

“Never? Didn’t they ever make you do one at school?”

Ben shook his head. “I don’t go to school.”

Surprise stilled her hands. “Why not?”

The boy visibly shrank. His shoulders turned inward, his spine curling. “Mommy and Daddy were afraid I’d do something bad.”

He forgot all about the puzzle, locked his arms around his knees and began to rock back and forth. “I didn’t mean to hurt them.” Fat tears leaked from his eyes. “I hate it when the pictures come. They make things happen. Bad things. And I can’t stop them.”

She didn’t want to push him too hard and have him shut down on her again, but she had to ask. “What pictures?” Cal had mentioned that the prophet’s soul could mold the world around him. Was this what he’d meant?

“Pictures in my head. I see them, then they happen.” He finally looked at her, his blue eyes two beseeching pools of naked anguish. “They scare me. Please make them stop.”

Regan reached out and swiped the tears from his cheeks, feeling as inept as he had with the puzzle. She wished she knew how to comfort a child, how to chase away the monsters and temper his fears. But she didn’t. She’d never raised a kid, couldn’t even remember being one.

Ben didn’t seem to notice her awkwardness. Springing forth, he wrapped his tiny arms around her waist and held her. Shudders shook his body, and she tentatively brought her hands to his back, gently stroking it. Slowly, his trembling abated, and eventually so did his tears. Still, he remained where he was, drawing comfort from her embrace, his cheek pressed against her heart.

A heart that was only now coming alive. Something shifted inside her, as though a switch had been flicked, and she was inundated with purpose and a clarity of mind that suddenly put everything into focus.

Maybe she didn’t know the right things to say. Maybe she didn’t know when to shelter a child in the circle of her arms or give him his space. But there was one thing she knew how to do and do it well. She knew how to protect him.

And protect him she would, even if it meant standing against the only family she’d ever known.

Marcus usually had no trouble tracking people down. The energy they left behind acted like a trail of breadcrumbs, leading him straight to them. Cal was the only person he couldn’t track, and it set his teeth on edge. He’d scoured the entire complex, but there was no sign of his leader. It was as if the man had vanished into thin air.

He finally found him loitering in what had once been the children’s ward, where the minors had dwelled before Kyros had butchered them. In just a few years, those children would’ve been full-grown, more than capable of fighting alongside the Watchers.

All the more reason for that snake Kyros to cut them down in cold blood.

“What are you doing here?” Marcus went to stand beside Cal, taking in the sight of the now-empty, gymnasium-sized room.

“I like to come here sometimes. To think. To remember.”

“The slaughter?” Cal could be pretty hard on himself sometimes—that was a well-known fact—but Marcus had never taken the guy for a masochist.

He shook his blond head, guilt darting across his face. “How I failed them.”

“You didn’t fail them. You couldn’t have known Kyros would escape.” Athanatos’s son had been safely locked away, restrained by bonds not only made of copper but drenched in angel’s blood—two substances guaranteed to sap a Kleptopsych’s strength. No one could’ve anticipated he’d break free and wreak havoc on the Watchers’ complex while most of them had gone off in a futile search for his father.

“As their leader, it was my job to know. I should’ve sensed it coming. But sadly, my abilities aren’t what they used to be.” Culpability had always shadowed Cal, now more than ever. “When I decided to start recruiting Hybrids, when I first founded the Watchers, I thought I understood the magnitude of the responsibility I was assuming. And I was foolish enough to think I could handle it.” He walked across the vast room, his footsteps echoing like a penny in a tin can. This ward had once bustled with activity. Now it sat in deathly silence, void of sound or life. “I failed to see that every decision carries a cost. Every victory requires a sacrifice. Every choice has the potential to change the outcome of the future.”

Marcus fought not to let the conflicting signatures in the room distract him. Nearly eight months later, he felt the presence of those they’d lost, as if they were still here among them. “Maybe it’s time to back off and let things play out the way they’re meant to. Enough blood has been shed. At some point, we have to draw the line.”

Cal pinned him with his piercing, silver stare. “You’re referring to the boy. You don’t agree with my decision.”

“No. I don’t.” Marcus couldn’t afford to skirt around the issue. Too much was at stake. “When I swore my allegiance to you, you made me take an oath. An oath to follow your orders without question, and for nearly two hundred years I have, happily, willingly. But this time—” he shook his head, “—I’m not sure I can.”

His leader turned to face him, his expression blank and unreadable. Marcus tamped down the urge to shake some sense into the guy. This was extreme, even for him. “For Christ’s sake, Cal, our mission is to protect human lives, not destroy them.”

No reaction. Just a barely noticeable twitch at the corner of Cal’s mouth. “You speak of Christ so casually,” he finally said, “but He above all others understood the meaning of sacrifice. Sometimes, one life is a small price to pay for the greater good.”

Frustration hopped along Marcus’s nerve endings. “What if you’re wrong? What if the boy isn’t what you think he is?”

“And what if I’m right? What would you have me do—save a single grain of sand or an entire ocean?” The man’s composure cracked, and a potent combination of doubt and accountability flooded his eyes. Cal, like Regan, was one of the few among them who had the ability to experience emotion in its purest form. More often than not, it proved a liability, but today Marcus would use it to his advantage.

“You can’t do this, Cal. You know that. You can’t kill this kid and extinguish his soul. If you do, you’ll be no better than the creatures we hunt.”

Cal’s deadpan expression returned, more impenetrable than ever. Whatever reservations he’d had dwindled away, and his steely gaze left no room for compromise. “You are still bound by your oath. You have sworn to follow my rule, even when we disagree.” Despite the hard set of his jaw, Cal’s disappointment was unmistakable, and it struck Marcus like a punch to the gut.

He valued Cal’s opinion above all others. The man was more than just his leader. He was his friend, the closest thing he had to a father. They’d fought together for so long, he barely remembered the time when they’d been enemies. Those were the darkest days of Marcus’s existence, and he still bore the stain of them on his conscience.

“You don’t have to like it,” Cal tagged on with a note of finality, “but you do have to follow my commands.” His voice wavered briefly, only to reclaim its cold, unyielding tone. “Bring me the boy.”

Chapter Eight

Aged aspens and cottonwoods reached gnarled fingers toward the sky, their newly formed leaves veiling the sun and filtering the daylight. With Ben secured firmly in her arms and a backpack carelessly slung over her shoulders, Regan dashed through the surrounding woods, desperate to put as much distance between them and Cascade Head as possible.

She was no stranger to the great outdoors, but today the forest seemed sinister, a place of acidic light and menacing shadows, where interlaced branches waited patiently to ensnare them. The ground groaned beneath the assault of her feet, the wind whistled an eerie tune, even the birds seemed to screech a garbled warning.

Anxious to get to the road where she could jack a car, Regan picked up speed. Ben tightened his hold around her neck. She was surprised the kid wasn’t totally freaking out by now. She could run close to sixty miles an hour, give or take. Wind slapped their faces, as did the occasional branch or twig. She barely felt the lashes, tried to shield Ben with her body, but every now and then a branch got through her defenses and delivered a smarting blow.

“Hang in there, kiddo. We’ll be out of the woods soon.”

“Where are we going?” This was the third time he’d asked her that question.

“Somewhere safe.” Wherever that was. No place existed where her partner couldn’t track them, except maybe the catacombs, and those had collapsed along with Athanatos. Sooner or later Marcus would catch up with them, and then what?

She knew the answer to that question. He’d turn her in, maybe even kill her himself. Since he’d joined the Watchers, Marcus’s loyalty to Cal had never wavered. Sure, he was known to break a rule or two now and again, but he always remained true to the mission. The strength of his allegiance to Cal defined him, gave him purpose and somehow redeemed him.

From what, she didn’t know. She’d always sensed there was something Marcus purposely kept from the others, a time in his life he’d rather forget, and that hidden truth served to make him Cal’s most faithful warrior.

“How can you run so fast?” Ben’s question snapped her out of her thoughts.

She didn’t know what to tell him. Explaining why she was faster than a cheetah on speed would require both time and tact, two things she didn’t have.

“I was the track-and-field champion back in school,” she lied.

A brisk breeze rustled through the trees, sending a flutter of newborn buds raining down on them. Rocks and earth crunched beneath the soles of her shoes as she sprinted through the shrubs, leapt over tall grass and weaved her way between wild tangles of undergrowth. Somewhere in the distance, a crow shrieked, and Ben trembled against her.

If only she could fold space, they’d be out of here in a jiffy. Unfortunately, she’d never succeeded in transporting another being, wasn’t sure if it was even possible for her to do so. The last thing she wanted was to unwittingly leave Ben behind, lost in a hostile forest, with an army of Watchers hunting him.

Nature suddenly went still. The crow ceased its cackling. Even the wind held its breath. Dark energy invaded the atmosphere, a familiar presence that made all of Regan’s protective instincts sharpen and her hackles rise.

No, not yet. I need more time.

Marcus squeezed through a dense mesh of poplars, startling a band of yellow-headed blackbirds and making them flee the scene in a terrified flutter of wings. “Where do you think you’re going?” He blocked Regan’s path, determined to keep her from escaping.

Regan skidded to a stop, her arms flexing as she tightened her grip on Ben. “Can’t a girl go for a nature walk?”

He ate up the distance between them, invaded her personal space in unvoiced warning. “We both know that’s not what’s going on here.”

She scanned her surroundings, indicating the thick bramble of trees with a jerk of her head. “Sure looks like it to me.”

“Regan, you can’t run.” Frustration nibbled at his patience. “There’s nowhere to go. You know that as well as I do.”

“Only because you won’t stop tracking me.” Desperation made her gaze glisten like liquid amber. “Can’t you just turn a blind eye for once?”

He wished he could, but duty made no allowance for wishes. He’d sworn an oath, and letting Regan walk away with Ben would imply turning his back on the Watchers, on Cal. He couldn’t do it. He owed the man too much.

“Consider what you’re doing.” He had to make her see reason. Her life depended on it. “If you take Ben off these grounds, you’ll be exposing him to Kyros. Here, at the complex, the Kleptopsychs can’t get to him. Out there, all bets are off.”

Ben pulled his chin from the crook of Regan’s neck and whispered in her ear, “What’s he talking about?”

“Shh,” she soothed. “Don’t listen to him. Marcus suffers from a severe case of paranoia.”

“You’ll be branded a Rogue,” he continued, letting the insult slide. “Cal won’t stop till he’s hunted you down, and if Kyros finds out what you have in your possession, neither will the Kleptopsychs.”

Doubt flickered in her gaze, and she quickly downcast her eyes to hide it. She was a strong and fierce soldier, one of the best he’d seen, but even she had her limits.

“You can’t take them all on alone.”