Soul Stealer (9 page)

“Are you okay?”

Her eyes slid closed. His voice was like a caress, a warm hug when you needed it the most; all comfort and concern. She felt close to tears for some inexplicable reason.

“Are you okay?” He repeated, and she nodded before looking back at him, willing herself not to burst into a sobbing mess.

“Good,” he said softly, closing his eyes again and sighing.

As he squeezed her hand in return, Patrice thought again that she might be losing her mind.

Chapter Nine

Claudia was in a mood as she stared down the punk of a thirteen year old that had been caught stealing from an electronics store. Again.

She’d seen this kid a dozen times already, starting back when he was just eight. No at-home supervision, no one telling him why he was a little shit, and nothing to be done about it anyway because he was only thirteen.

He was staring back at her, knowing the only thing she could do was wait for his mom to show up. Whatever. He wasn’t scared of her, and she sure as shit wasn’t intimidated by him. She strummed her nails on the table, passing the time with her own little percussion tune. He seemed unbothered.

“Hey,” he finally said, bringing her attention back to him. “Why don’t you run and get me a Coke?”

She scoffed. “Why don’t you quietly sit and we’ll just wait for your mom to come. She can get you a soda.”

Then she turned her gaze back to her fingers, tapping on the tabletop.

“You’re kinda hot. Why are you a cop?”

She ignored it. The last time he’d tried that line with her she’d told his mom what he’d said, and the poor woman had almost blown a gasket.
Never. Such filth would never come from my son’s mouth.

Yeah, Claudia made it up for shits and giggles.

“Do you strip if someone slips you a fifty? Or a hundred?”

He wanted a reaction, she knew that very well. She fought it, because if she reacted it could be violent, given the way she was feeling.

Meghan was dead. Claudia was emotionally distraught; she likely shouldn’t have been at work, come to think of it. Plus, this morning with Iola …

She scrubbed at her face with both hands. There was no reason for what had happened. She couldn’t imagine why she’d done what she did, no matter how much it seemed like Iola was interested.

Jesus, she was such a degenerate. The memory of kissing Iola was both sweet and painful. She had to stop herself from thinking about it.

The door opened, and the kid’s mom rushed in, all fluttery with worry and apology. She smelled like expensive perfume and her clothes were labels Claudia couldn’t even pronounce, never mind afford. The woman’s hand flashed a real sparkler as it was pressed to her chest.

“Officer, I am so sorry. I just … I don’t know what to do with him.”

Claudia didn’t correct the woman’s error on her rank, and she didn’t accept the apology either. Just let them leave with a reminder that one day one of these stores will really want to press charges and after a few rounds like that he would be headed for juvenile detention.

Mrs. Moneybags assured her it would never come to that, and Claudia just watched them leave silently. The only reason the kid wasn’t charged was because he was the spawn of a ridiculously wealthy and powerful man. She hoped one day the kid lipped off a tougher kid and a little street justice was dealt to him because that was likely the only way he’d learn anything.

She wandered back to her desk, passing through her emails. Before he left after putting in some hellacious overtime, Trevor Vance had emailed her. She had to smile. Iola may have been her only friend, but Vance was likely her only “buddy.”

The email was simple. “Heard about that McKay fucker kicking it. There’s going to be an inquiry into the hospital’s handling of it, but good riddance I say. The weird thing is the hospital staff was talking about the room feeling strange when they went in after he died, like it was warning them to stay away. Just like at the night club. And just like the incident I responded to today. A woman was in her apartment, the door was kicked in by some dude she didn’t know, and before she knew it this evil had descended on them, and the guy was knocked out. I think I’m cracking up, Bauer.”

Claudia sat back, goose bumps raised on her arms, making her shiver. She tried to imagine the night club again, but all she remembered was the surreal way someone she knew and had cared about was dead on the floor. Everything else was unnoticed background noise after that.

She went to Vance’s desk, knowing he wouldn’t mind her snooping. The nightclub she knew about, found the file easily. He’d added a file folder for today’s incident underneath, and then another file about a young girl found dead in her apartment that Claudia had only heard a little bit about.

He had grouped the three together on his desk. It had to be for a reason.

After a moment’s hesitation she wrote down the three addresses on a slip of paper and let dispatch know she was heading out for her break, and then she had a few stops to make.

Voro eased back, watching the faces of the angels across the table. They hadn’t changed expression. Anyone else would have found it disconcerting. He found it hilarious. Of course, they were dreaming up explanations that were impossible.

“So … more than just stealing a living thing’s life force, they take their very soul?”  This from Gazardiel, a tall woman with dark skin, flashing dark eyes and hair cut as short as it could be without qualifying as bald. She looked like the kind of woman that could make you hurt or smile, depending on her mood. Voro liked her immediately.

“That’s what’s been told,” he said carefully. “But Psionic Vampires predate anything I’ve seen, we’re talking … BC. At least.”

“When will it be done its work?” Peter wanted to know.

Voro shrugged. “Legend says it will keep devouring souls until it becomes a solid form, usually a man. Over time it will grow stronger and stronger until it’s a walking, living deity. Then it will be almost impossible to get rid of.”

“And I suppose it’s also almost impossible to know how long it will take for that to happen,” Jehoel guessed.

“It depends on how driven this being actually is. I’ve heard of some that never even get to solid form. They just fade away.”

“How do we get rid of it?” This from Anael again. Interesting choice of words; she was assuming it couldn’t be outright killed.

“In solid form it can be slain by steel, wielded by a pure heart.” Voro shrugged. “Or maybe an angel.”

“You don’t know?” She seemed to think that was funny.

“I’ve never seen one, sweetheart.”

“Watch the sweetheart stuff. I don’t find you charming in the least.”

“I haven’t turned it on yet, honey.”

Her nostrils flared. He was really getting to love pissing her off.

Douma spoke next, and it was enough to shut even Voro up. Something about that guy made everyone pay attention, and not just because he was nearly seven feet tall.

“Cut it out, both of you.” Yeah, he was the Angel of Silence all right. As in, he inspired it through abject fear.

Next Micah spoke up. This one was scary, too. He was almost too shrewd for Voro to feel safe around. “I’m comfortable assuming one of us has to smite this thing. I don’t want to count on a mortal to save us all from this.”

As the five angels looked at each other, Voro had to wonder if they could speak telepathically.

They all shared a nod in unison, and he took that for a great big
yup-yup
. They’d only been speaking out loud for his benefit.

The crew got to their feet and vacated the meeting without giving him or Peter so much as a glance.  Voro stared at the door they left through, knowing it went somewhere he was not permitted to go.

Jesus, he missed Raphael already. The guy was his only … friend?

“Thank you for your help, Voro.” Peter said stiffly. “You may go back to your quarters.”

“Do you think there’s any way I can actually help them other than relating back nursery rhymes that Sin Eaters share with each other? ‘Cause that’s what this is, you know. No one ever confirmed to me that these things were actually real. I never knew anyone that actually saw one.”

Peter turned tired eyes to Voro. “You just saw one, Voro. And I’m hoping it didn’t completely destroy the Angel of Healing because they can’t reach Raphael anymore. It’s like … the signal’s been cut. They all felt him go quiet. They’re scared.” He cleared his throat. “And so am I.”

Anael headed for her chamber without a word, her stride and expression daring anyone to try and stop her for a chat.  No one took the dare so by the time her door shut she had calmed down slightly.

Her hands still trembled, her anger like a fine thrill running along her skin. She didn’t see why a Sin Eater had to be part of their plans. For all they knew he was a spy. Why Peter and Raphael trusted him was beyond her.

He knew how to get under her skin, too. She regretted showing him how quickly she jumped to anger and annoyance. Clearly he enjoyed it.

She’d had to deal with Sin Eaters before. Once, at the turn of the twentieth century, one had been set up in a gorgeous spot near a British colony in India. The
frustro
and
decipio
had been selected and set; she was just there to make sure things went as planned.

The
decipio
and
frustro
were on a romantic walk. She lagged behind them, heart swollen and warm at the sight of such love. The
decipio
held the hand of his
frustro
tenderly, and all of Anael’s angelic tendencies were rapturous at the sight.

But she had to remind herself to pay attention. This was the trap, the
laqeous
to take out a Sin Eater in the area. He’d already gotten a whiff of the
frustro
and Anael knew he would be on the hunt for the bait specifically designed for him, twenty years before.

She’d seen the Sin Eater notice the woman in the market. She was lovely; Anael had known she would capture his attentions on her looks alone. Her skin was warm and glowing, eyes wide and luxuriously brown. Her hair was braided down her back, full and glossy. She smelled of orchid and warm spices, and as he’d noticed the scent he’d stopped stock-still like an animal in the wild.

Anael was delighted at how perfectly the system had worked.  Already the
frustro
was known to the
decipio
; the young man, a British importer, was desperate to court her. In under a week this evening had developed: a perfect snare.

Anael was watching the shadows for the Sin Eater to appear, not trusting her ears due to the loud street not too far from where her couple was strolling. If she hadn’t been so confident she might have noticed something was amiss.

At a moment when her back was turned, the
decipio
had grabbed the
frustro
. A startled cry brought Anael’s attention back to the pair, just in time to see the
frustro
disappear around a corner.

Fearing that the Sin Eater had struck without her knowing it, Anael chased the pair into the alley. Something had gone horribly wrong: the
decipio
had shoved the
frustro
face-first to the wall, and was pulling her sari out of the way while pressing the her face painfully against stone by the back of her head.

Furious, Anael had rushed at him, but in his blind lust he struck at her, sending her flying despite her superior strength. Anael’s head cracked the hardened ground painfully and she saw stars. It made no sense: he still shone with divine purpose. It was as though he didn’t realize it was wrong to treat a woman this way.

Inky shadows bled into her sight as she tried to struggle to her feet. She knew there would be no permanent damage; she was an angel, after all. But her head was spinning and she felt as though her ankle might have been twisted; she couldn’t seem to get her boot-clad feet to hold her. One ankle continuously buckled as she struggled to stand.

As she fought to stay conscious, Anael saw the
decipio
striking the
frustro
’s head to the wall repeatedly. When the woman had stopped struggling, falling unconscious, he raped her.

Anael was horrified, more so that she couldn’t seem to stop it. When she was able to stand the man had shoved her away easily again, and the world swam as her stomach tried to empty its contents.

A cold wind rushed down the thin, dark alleyway. Someone flew past her almost inhumanly fast, and the next thing she knew the
decipio
was on the ground in front of her, nose busted open, bleeding down his chin with a startled look on his face. He had no more of an idea what happened than Anael did.

Her head cleared. The coolness of the air around them made it easier to breathe, her stomach settling. As she sat up she finally saw what had stopped all the madness: the Sin Eater. She’d only seen him a couple of times, never this close. He was of an impressive size, but not intimidatingly so. He was crouched over the
frustro
, carefully gathering her up in his arms.

Anael had never seen such tenderness, and to be seeing it from the likes of him was enough to freeze her in place. Sin Eaters almost seemed to swallow sunlight; the world was darker with them around, the air too thick to breathe. Until that moment, that is; she was actually relieved by him this time.