Soul Stealer (18 page)

Doctor Aubericus sat across from them on a large, square ottoman, taking a sip as well. “It’s not for everyone.”

They watched Ralph take his first sip, laughing at his expression as it apparently assaulted the back of his throat.

“Oh good God that’s terrible,” he sputtered.

“That’s a mean trick giving a guy his first drink of scotch with an audience,” Iola scolded as she appeared at the entrance. “If you’re hungry, everything’s ready.”

The doctor took Ralph’s glass with a chuckle. When Ralph got to his feet, he offered Patrice his hand. She took it and stood, but instead of letting go he kept that contact as they made their way through to the dining room. He also held the chair out for her.

It was hard not to notice how the doctor and Iola could barely keep their hands off each other. When she sat he gave her hip a caress. When they were seated next to each other her hand clearly ran down his thigh under the table. They barely seemed aware they were doing it.

It was difficult to be around. Patrice wasn’t uncomfortable with it, but she knew then she’d never had that comfort level with someone she was head-over-heels mad for. Passion, yes, but that was completely different from this.

Conversation was happening around her; they were discussing what happened to Ralph to land him in the hospital. They were telling the story without any help from her. She sat watching her houseguest smile and chat with ease with two people he’d never met before.

Iola was startled by the revelation of the fact that Ralph had kicked in Patrice’s apartment door. “No offense, but you don’t seem the type to do something that aggressive. Although you’re certainly built for it.” Then she looked alarmed, eyes darting to Vinnie. “I mean, I’m sorry. You’re very … large.”

Vinnie chuckled, taking her hand and kissing it. “It’s okay, Iola. I’m not getting jealous here.”

Patrice finally joined in. “There was something in my apartment with me. I don’t know what it was, but I know I was scared.” She blushed then. “I was just instantly relieved to see Ralph, that much I know. Yeah, he’s as big as my apartment door was but I wasn’t scared of him.”

“That’s weird,” Iola mused.

Vinnie was quick to corroborate. “The police said the scene had a strange feeling to it. They all wanted out of that apartment as soon as they were in it.”

The doctor and Iola shared a look. Iola looked incredibly startled, but the doctor was quick to remedy the lull. “I just wish we knew what happened to your head.”

Ralph shrugged. “It may come back to me. I hope so.”

Conversation slid to a more small talk temperature, and tensions eased around the table. Patrice concentrated on her meal and not the male body next to her, but she couldn’t help but watch him eat. His manners were perfect. Completely unlike he’d been at her apartment eating the fruit. She was seeing him in a social light, and that’s when she realized on his own just with her he was very much being himself.

Her side that was closest to him was warmer than the other, and she had an insane urge to rest her arm on the table next to his, close enough to almost meet. So she did.

No one noticed, but eventually, like it was the most natural thing in the world, his arm strayed to the side, and their skin was touching. And she wouldn’t move her arm for anything.

Chapter Eighteen

“I hope this works,” Essum muttered, mostly to himself.

“It’s a sound plan. I have faith in you.”

His “recently landed immigrant” companion was staying to the shadows around the corner, which was good. His face was like a moving ink blot test. Essum let his doubts show to no one in particular.

“I can’t see who’s a good soul and who’s not. I can only sense evil.”

“That will do just fine.”

He craned his neck around to view the front of the church, watching the steel double-doors of the community centre that was attached to the larger, more impressive stone structure. A group was meeting; who exactly was inside could be anyone from retiring alcoholics to thumb-suckers, but at night this is what churches had to offer. Praesul was sure that if people were comfortable in churches they would be souls that he could use.

Essum was comfortable in churches, but he wasn’t human so it became difficult to tell if they were both mostly correct or mostly wrong.

The doors swung inward, the sad human contents of the hall leaving the bright fluorescent lighting and stepping in to the amber glow of the parking lot standards. A few of them lit cigarettes or mingled with other members before heading for their cars.

Essum did his best, he really did, but all he could decipher was that no one in the group carried any evil. So he had to use his sense of smell.

One couple was hanging back, smoking their cigarettes and smiling at each other from under shyly-lowered lids. A little AA flirtation going on, apparently.

She smelled like a meadow after spring rain – it was so strong it was the only thing that even made Essum notice them; the smell of the completely smitten. The man was harder to get a read on, but once he found it the scent came through like straight cinnamon: he was horned up and that was all.

This was too easy.

He sent a line to the woman’s brain, since the man wouldn’t be difficult to convince. He foraged in her mind, quickly locating her arousal receptors, triggered them, then convinced her she had to take her friend around the corner for some alone time. This simply couldn’t wait for them to go anywhere else.

As Essum watched she leaned over close to the man’s chest, and he lowered his head to listen to what she clearly needed to tell him. He jerked in disbelief, but as the woman beamed up at him with a wide smile it took a nanosecond for the man to nod in surprised delight as she took his hand.

Essum couldn’t stop himself from smiling. He turned back to Praesul. “Incoming,” he whispered.

It was so fast. They circled the building, becoming mere silhouettes to Essum’s eyes. The next thing he knew Praesul had them both by the neck, his half-formed fingers shockingly strong, pushing into their throats so they couldn’t make a noise. They dropped like sacks of flour, the man’s body covering the woman’s as though protecting her.

They were dead. Not a brain wave between them, no fading into the light gradually. They were totally stone-cold dead before they hit the ground.

Praesul straightened his suggestion of a back, sighing. “Excellent. Much more efficient to take two at a time.”

Essum was staring at the bodies, his brain churning. Bodies left a mess and created questions. While the nature of his work may have been nasty, he knew very well they couldn’t hang around. When he’d had Charlie Goodwin kill people he’d been just a ghost, able to spirit the man out of jail by flipping switches in people’s minds. In person everything could be quite different.

“We have to go,” he told Praesul softly, turned back the way they’d come.

“Of course. But I’ll need more.”

Essum set his jaw and bit back the need to ask “How much more?” He had the feeling there was no finite answer. He was likely to get back an ambiguous “Until I am done” or something. The only question he should legitimately be worrying about was where the good souls tended to hang out. How the hell was a Sin Eater supposed to know that?

“That was … nice.”

Raphael smiled at his nurse as she shut the car door and turned the key to start the engine. “It was, wasn’t it?” he agreed. “They are such pleasant people.”

The drive to the apartment was awkward and silent. Raphael’s stomach was content though, and his warm fuzzy feeling was due to a generous amount of wine.

Well, maybe not
all
the warm fuzzies.

His eyes trailed across the dashboard to rest again on Patrice. Her thin pale hands gripped the steering wheel, and her eyes were sharp as she watched traffic.

He’d enjoyed sitting next to her during the meal.  Well no, that wasn’t entirely true. He’d savored every moment sitting next to her, from the meal to the moment they all retired to the sitting room for coffee. She’d stayed right next to him, resting against him hip to knee. He’d even had his arm across the back of the sofa behind her. Not around her exactly, but very close.

Now, trapped in the car with her, he could only smell that sweet perfume she had. It was more concentrated here. It made him want to hold her close and just breathe her in.

They parked in her spot at her apartment, and the walk to the elevator was normal but still strained. He found relaxing very difficult. Maybe it was all these new-found emotions and feelings but he really wasn’t himself around Patrice.

The doors slid closed smoothly, and they leaned against the back wall for the ride up. More silence, until she just laughed, putting a hand to her forehead.

“What?” He said, relieved that something was actually happening. “What’s wrong?”

“This is so strange. I’m just realizing that I went to a dinner party at a co-worker’s with someone I don’t know, who is also staying in my spare room. It’s just … this is strange.”

Raphael felt his stomach sink. She was going to ask him to leave, he just knew it. “Should … should I go?” Was that really his sad and pathetic voice?

Her face swiveled up to him quickly, her face stricken. “No, no. That’s not what I meant. It’s just a strange circumstance because … I’m okay with it all. That’s what’s weird.”

He felt like a complete pansy as relief re-inflated his lungs. “Okay, good. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

She smiled at him, and he found himself staring again. He was always staring at her. She was going to get tired of it eventually.

But then her eyes dropped visibly, and he realized they were focused on his lips. His face got warm, and he felt his chest puff up in spite of itself. He took in her expression, the way her cheeks colored slightly, the way her own lips parted slightly. Yeah, those lips. They were so red right now. Could lips blush, too?

He was staring at her mouth. He realized it just as she brought her eyes up to his again. She pushed away from the wall, but not hurriedly. She circled in front of him, standing just beyond where she could lean against him.

“I don’t know you, but … I want to kiss you,” she muttered, dropping her eyes and running them over his chest this time.

“You do?”

“Yes, I do. You are so painfully beautiful.”

He shook his head, straightening up so their clothes brushed. “You are the most beautiful thing I’ve known.”

“I know that can’t be true.”

He brought a hand up slowly, still not sure he couldn’t hurt her with just a touch. His hand flattened along her throat, his thumb trailing along her jawline. No jolt, no seizures. She just closed her eyes and leaned into his hand.

There was a lump in his throat. He was touching her, directly, and she was letting him do it. He didn’t waste time worrying about what that meant; it was too extraordinary.

Her mouth was still open, and he zeroed in on that. Raphael licked his lips as he leaned forward –

They both jumped when the elevator dinged, separating like they were caught doing something wrong.  She moved past him, and he followed slightly behind, feeling less than welcome once again.

Raphael felt like cursing; he was a useless fool. He should be able to kiss someone for Pete’s sake.  If he was a man –

He wasn’t. Well, he wasn’t
used
to being one. That was his excuse. He had no idea what he was doing, and it was pretty damned emasculating. But she clearly wanted him to kiss her, and she wanted him to be the one that closed the gap.

Angel
didn’t have to mean
sissy
.

What would Voro do?
Raphael found himself actually wondering, not without a whole lot of “what the hell?” Well, that was an easy answer. He’d grab her, hike her up against him so she was on her toes and helpless, kiss her while holding her butt. For some reason that seemed to work for Voro. Raphael was pretty sure that wasn’t his vibe.

Patrice set her keys on the counter while he locked the door behind him. His heart was beating on his ribcage like it was terrified and wanted out. His hands were damp with sweat, which he could also feel under his arms. His whole body felt warm, and taking off his jacket had no effect. Patrice was turning off her cell phone, still not looking at him.

He remembered her face in the elevator. The expectation, the softness of her skin.

Raphael strode up behind her, turned her by the hips, put a hand to each side of her neck, and …
did it
.

He kissed her.

Anael had flown down the hallway almost in a frenzy and Jehoel had caught her as she careened wildly around a corner and nearly plowed in to him.

“Anael, the Psionic Vampire is moving around. I’m going to let Voro track him. I’ve been trying to find you to tell you -” He peered at her with very wise eyes. “Anael? What’s happened?”

She shook her head. “I can’t tell you.”

“You can tell me anything. What’s wrong?”

She looked up as a group of novices passed, concern on their faces. She must have looked insane.

“Not here,” she whispered. “Somewhere private.”

Jehoel led her to the library, shutting them in together, his face a display of brotherly concern, grace and love. “Anael, please tell me what’s happened.”

She took a deep breath. “You need to keep me away from Voro.”

Jehoel’s face darkened. “What’s happened? What did he do?”

She shook her head, raising both hands to stop him. “No, nothing. It wasn’t him. It’s me.”

Jehoel put his hands on her upper arms, making her stay in place. “Anael, I’ve never seen you this undone. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I attacked him.”

Jehoel studied her closely. “We’ve all wanted to hit him at some point.”

“I didn’t strike him. I … I wanted to lie with him.”

Jehoel let go of her suddenly. “Anael -”

“I know. I did wrong. I’m so sorry!” She covered her face with both hands as tears came, and she turned from him, so ashamed.

There was a pause, then Jehoel turned her back around and gathered her to his chest. “Okay, it’s okay,” he cooed to her, stroking her hair. “There is no shame in being curious.”

“I think there’s something wrong with me.”

“Voro is handsome,” Jehoel conceded. “You know the effect Sin Eaters have on women. They’ve always done that.”

She nodded, not comforted.

“Did … did you go through with it? Did he take you?”

She raised her face. “I stopped. I was able to stop. And he didn’t do anything else, he let me go.”

Jehoel nodded. “Good. That’s good.”

“Jehoel, you’d tell me if there’s something wrong with me, right?”

He granted her a kind smile. “There’s nothing wrong with you, Anael. You’re lovely.”

She shook her head. “Am I the only one with these urges?”

He laughed. “No, not at all. You just struggle with them more because of your calling.”

“Why can’t I just fall in love? Why do I have to have this … drive that I can’t control?”

“You’re the angel of passion and love. Passion is still a part of romantic love, after all. The difference is you’re not in love, so this is what you have.”

She stepped away. “It would be easier if we could make love with each other.”

His smile broadened. “I’ll take your word for it. But please, don’t feel ashamed. Despite everything, I do think we can trust Voro. And if he didn’t take advantage of you or force you … you should trust him, too.”

She shook her head. “He’s a Sin Eater.”

“Not really. Not anymore.”

She crossed her arms, feeling foolish now that Jehoel had calmed her down. “Thank you, Jehoel,” she said meekly.

“We would have you happy, Anael,” he said. “We’ll never judge you, no matter what. If you end up giving in again at some point it will not change our opinion of you.”

She backed away in horror. “Don’t say that! I’d never -”

“Look at how upset you are,” he pointed out. “This could be from fighting your nature.”

“It’s not my nature to be no more than a … a slattern,” she spat out angrily, turning on her heel and nearly ripping the library door from its hinges in her bid to get away from him.