Soul Survivor (22 page)

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Authors: Katana Collins

BOOK: Soul Survivor
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Raul took another long sip of coffee before placing it down on the tray in front of him. “There's so much religion here. So much community—I fell in love with the place. Luis and I grew up in New Orleans, but when I first visited Utah, it just seemed so pure. The complete opposite of the drunken party town I grew up in.”
I was still staring into the glass case, when I saw her reflection—the Banshee's. I gasped and swiveled around to find her almost directly behind me. Murky tears cascaded from her eyes. I glanced past her at Damien and Raul, who were still engaged in some sort of conversation. “What is it?” I whispered. “C'mon, speak!” Neither man seemed to hear or notice me talking to nothingness.
She glanced to the door, then back to me again, her eyes widening. My gut wrenched. “Is it Drew?” She didn't respond, but more tears spilled down her cheeks.
“Oh, my Hell,” I said, louder than I meant. Both men turned to look at me. I rushed to Damien, grabbing his arm and pulling him to his feet. “I-I just remembered, I have a thing. A meeting. Back at the hotel. We have to go—”
“But—”
“We need to go
now
.”
Damien looked at me curiously, but knew better than to argue. “Okay.” He nodded and took Raul's hand once again. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Nunez-Buckley. If we have any other questions we'll be in touch. Or if you think of anything that might be relevant, don't hesitate to call.” Damien passed him a business card.
“Absolutely,” Raul said, taking the card between two fingers. “Ms. Lamb . . . do you have a card as well?”
“Don't push your luck.” Damien put his arm around my shoulders and ushered us out into the night.
39
Ireland, 1740
 
D
ays had passed since John and I had committed ourselves to a relationship. For the first time in my existence . . . and despite centuries of being alive . . . I felt like a woman. Although we had vampires who did our cooking, I would make the occasional meal for us in the same way a wife would for her husband.
His castle transformed almost immediately into my own home and I moved into his bedroom. As much as I enjoyed the proximity each night, I was restless. Centuries of never sharing a bed made the extra weight on the opposite side jarring. Every stir, every noise he made would wake me.
I walked around the library, running my fingers along the various bindings. Some looked ancient, as though they might disintegrate if I lifted them from the shelves. His journal sat on the same side table, the Bible still beside it.
Afraid to touch it again, I pulled my sleeve over my hand before lifting it. The dark magic still clung to the book, a sparkling web of sorcery. I was able to flip open the cover, but each page was blank. I could tell from the arcane enchantments that they were not really blank—simply locked for no eyes but his own. I went to place the book back down on the table and it slipped from my sleeve. Without thinking, I reached out with my other hand to catch it, my sleeve slipping up past my wrist. The book was hot to the touch, but didn't sizzle against my holy skin as it had several days ago. I gasped and clutched the book in my left hand. I threw it down onto the side table and it sizzled as it came in contact with the Bible. It no longer burned me. . . . Why would a book with dark magic not burn an angel?
I backed away from the room—not even wanting to be in the journal's presence any longer. My back came in contact with someone and I screamed, turning around coming face-to-face with John. I exhaled and placed a hand to my chest. “You startled me.”
He smiled warmly down at me and kissed me lightly on the lips. “I'm sorry, angel. I assure you, it was not my intent.” He walked into the room past me and picked up the journal, tucking it under his arm. “You were going into the market today, were you not?”
I nodded, rubbing my palms over my arms. “Yes. I would like to get out a bit, I think. We've been cooped up in this house for days.”
John wiggled his eyebrows at me, his grin widening. “There's a reason why, you know?” He wrapped an arm around my waist and tugged me in for a kiss, his tongue nudging my lips open. I happily obliged and stroked his tongue with mine.
He released me and brushed his forefinger along my jaw. “I'll miss you. I have to prepare the final spell for tomorrow. The words must be exactly correct or it could be a detriment to the entire operation.” He cupped my face with his free hand and tilted my chin up to his. “You ready for this? It will be rather intense.”
“I'm ready to defeat Carman. It's well past time.”
“It bloody is.” He grinned and I flinched at the language. He gave me an apologetic half-smile. “Sorry. It's a terrible habit. One that's difficult to break.” He took my hand in his and placed a soft kiss upon my knuckle. “Enjoy the market. How long do you believe you will be gone?”
I shrugged. “I plan to enjoy the day out. I will be back by dinner time.”
He smiled. “Fantastic. I will have Dejan cook up something delicious.”
 
I wasn't at the market for long before I started to miss John. It was amazing how quickly someone could get into your heart. I couldn't go for minutes without seeing something that reminded me of him. I walked along the market, finding a leather-bound journal. I turned it over in my hands and paid the merchant for it. A new journal—for a new life.
I purchased some bread, which was admittedly not the most appetizing looking due to Carman's frost and the lack of grain. The old woman's eyes lit up at the sale and I gave her a little extra for her effort.
I didn't want to purchase anything else, so since there was plenty of time until dinner, I decided to walk home as opposed to teleporting. The cool air felt good as it whipped my hair from the knot at the nape of my neck. And instead of tucking it back away again, I pulled my hair free, letting Carman blow it every which way she pleased.
I approached the castle and the gate creaked open as Ulrich let me in with an acknowledging bow. I smiled as warmly as I could at the beast. The only vampire I trusted in this house was Dejan—and even him I only trusted while John had him under his power. Even if the idea of a coven of hungry vampires terrified me, I trusted that John knew how to control them. Despite their thirst.
I could feel the vampire's eyes following me as I made my way to the house. I opened the door to home. My home. My castle. The thought was a strange one. “John?” I called out. “I'm back early.” No one answered, so I skipped into the kitchen to put the bread away. Dejan was there, stirring a pot over the fire.
He bowed when he saw me, his eyes dropping to the scant loaf of bread in my basket. “You do know, m'lady, that we make our own bread here.”
I shrugged and handed him the basket. “I know. But the folks at market so desperately need our support.”
Dejan's mouth twitched into a barely there smile, and his throat rasped as though he were parched. “That's very kind of you.”
I narrowed my eyes, my gaze drifting to his mouth and throat. “You are thirsty,” I stated. It wasn't a question.
“I am always thirsty, m'lady.” He turned away from me, away from my stare.
“Yes, but you are particularly thirsty today. I can hear it in your voice. How long has it been since Lord Buckley allowed you to feed?”
Dejan checked on the pot of boiling water over the fire—even though we both knew it needed no such attention. “Who can keep track anymore?” he whispered and I wasn't sure the response was even meant for me.
I turned out of the kitchen. John had to let them feed. I could convince him, I thought with a smile, running my hand over the curve of my waist. I was certain of that. Besides, they needed to be strong for our battle with Carman tomorrow. Tomorrow. It was hard to believe it was already time to take her on.
I climbed the stairs and peeked my head into John's study. Empty. I moved along the hallway, hearing some noise from the boudoir. Not our boudoir—but my old boudoir, the one I had stayed in prior to John and myself consummating our relationship. The door was only slightly ajar and I pressed my palm to it. It silently opened a few inches, opening just enough that I could see a sliver of the bed. A woman I had never seen before lay in my bed, her perky breasts and tight nipples heaving with her moans.
John's face was between her legs, his bare backside in the air. He moaned against her dark curls and her face twisted, legs wrapping around the back of his neck.
I fell back against the wall, unable to look anymore. Their pleasurable moans still flooded my ears and I placed two hands over them to drown out the noise. I should have felt something, right? Anything? A gut-wrenching pain? But I felt nothing. Absolutely numb. I walked slowly back down the stairs, leaving the journal on his desk in the study before walking out the front door. I made my way to the gate, where Ulrich bowed once more and let me out.
Numb. My arms and legs felt disconnected from the rest of my body. I knew I was walking but with no intentional direction to go in. The sun was starting to dip below the horizon and I found myself outside of mine and Julian's headquarters. The little cottage outside of town where up until recently we had been tending to the ill.
The door swung open; he had sensed my presence almost immediately. And he knew. With one look at my face, he cradled me in his arms and all sensation came back with his hug. My feet, my hands, my fingers and toes. They were all there again and my heart—my throbbing heart stabbed with pain.
We stood there in silence until I finally pulled away from his hold, looking up into those soft, blue eyes. “Why would he betray me?” My voice cracked as I asked.
Jules regarded me a moment before answering, eyes flitting over my face. “He had nothing to lose. His soul already had a black mark on it.”
“What?” My throat was dry and the word could barely escape through my parched lips. “You knew he had a black mark and didn't tell me?”
Julian's eyebrows dipped into a scowl and he stepped back. “I tried to warn you. I told you to get the blessing from San Michel.”
“You did everything except come out and tell me the truth! You knew I wouldn't give my—my heart to someone who was destined for Hell!” With my palms to Julian's chest, I pushed with all my might. He stumbled back, but in a controlled way. As if he had known that was exactly what I would do.
“I could not physically tell you anything about Lord Buckley!” he yelled, spinning back into my personal space. “I tried, but I couldn't. But I did my best to warn you. This was your choice, not mine. Don't blame your indiscretions on me.”
“You could have tried harder.” A single tear rolled down my cheek. “You began with all this talk of love and angels having the ability to-to—”
“Because I thought you were finally acknowledging
us
.” He was back to his calm self. No longer yelling, he was cool as he turned to straighten the room, tidying what sparse items we had in there. “Go home, Monica.”
“W-what? This
is
my home!”
“Not at the moment, it isn't.” He turned to face me from the other side of the room. “We have a job to finish. No matter what happened between you and Buckley, you need to stay on his good side until Carman is defeated.” Before I knew it, Julian was in front of me once more, nose to nose. “Go. Home. Act as though nothing happened.”
My tears were cold as they rolled down my cheeks. I backed away from Julian—my angel. My friend. The person I most trusted in this world. And even he was using me. Angels were supposed to put humanity before themselves. It was a fact I knew, and yet, I had never before seen it in action when it affected me so greatly. Julian didn't love me enough to defy his angelic position.
“You didn't love me enough,” I whispered and with a crack and a heavy heart, I teleported back to the manor. The table was already set for supper and Lord Buckley trotted down the stairs to greet me with a kiss on the cheek. “You're tardy, I see. No bother. Run up and change. Dejan will keep supper on the fire a little longer.”
He grinned at me in that boyish, lopsided way again. It took all my effort not to grimace. Instead, I walked steadily up to our boudoir to dress for dinner. My limbs, once again numb.
40
D
amien raced us back to the hotel in record time, swinging wildly into a parking spot near the front. Before his car was even in park, I was hopping out and running through the front doors.
I rushed for the elevators, pressing the button again and again as though that would help the car come faster. After a few seconds, I abandoned the elevator, making a run for the stairs.
“Monica!” Adrienne's voice echoed in the lobby and I halted mid-sprint, turning to look for her.
She was standing in the middle of the lobby, hands out at her sides as if saying,
What the fuck
?
I ran toward her. “Where's Drew?” I called out.
“He's right over there.” She gestured flippantly to the restaurant right off the lobby. “We saw you charge through here like a bat out of . . . well, you know.”
“Oh, my Hell.” I collapsed against the wall. “He's okay? Nothing's wrong?”
“He's fine.... We're just having a late dinner. What happened?”
“I-I saw the Banshee,” I gasped, catching my breath as I bent over with my hands on my knees. “And I c-could have sworn Drew was in danger.”
Damien came running up behind Adrienne. “Goddamn, Mon. Everything okay in here?” He looked to Adrienne, who nodded.
“Of course he's fine. What do you think, I can't do a simple protective detail?”
Damien chewed the inside of his cheek and put a hand on my shoulder. “See? He's fine.”
“I want to see him for myself,” I said, glaring at Adrienne.
She rolled her eyes. “Fine. Let's go.”
We headed to the restaurant, where I saw Drew staring at us through the window in front of their table.
As we walked, Adrienne talked behind me, more to Damien, I believe. “You're telling me that she's the only one who can see this fairy of death? All we're going on with this is Monica's interpretation of some red-headed hag?”
“I know what I saw, Adrienne. Drew is a target. And being that he's
your
boyfriend, I'm surprised that you're not more concerned by this.”
Her sigh was exaggerated and audible from behind me. “It just seems a little—excessive, that's all I'm saying.”
“I'm glad to hear you say that,” Damien said, looking through his phone and checking an email. “I got a call from Andowe just now. He wants us to pay a visit to Sonja's exboyfriend. Tonight would be preferable.”
“What?” I hissed, spinning to face them. “You can't leave Drew here alone. It's not safe.”
“We won't leave him alone.” Damien slid a hand around my waist and pushed me along. “You'll keep an eye on him, right, Monica?”
Adrienne clicked her tongue and Damien flicked a glance back to her. “That would be okay, right, Adrienne?”
“Oh, sure. Just peachy.”
“That is, if you think you can handle it, babe?”
“Don't be stupid. Of course I can handle it.” But as I looked through the window at Drew, that little gnawing in my gut was unsettling.
 
After Drew finished his meal, we were back in his room watching television. “You know”—he cleared his throat—“you really don't have to stick around with me. I'll probably just pass out.”
I shrugged knowing this would be the hardest part—convincing him to let me stick around while Adrienne and Damien were out. He was spread out on one bed and I was on the other with my back propped against the headboard. “I know—but what else would I be doing back in my room? I'd just be watching the exact same TV as you are. . . .”
“Really?” he said, glancing at me with a smile. “You'd be watching
American Choppers
?”
“Um, yeah. I love a good hog.” My face split into a smile and Drew's grin widened.
“You always were a terrible liar.” He laughed and threw a pillow, which I caught between two hands. I tossed the pillow behind my back for extra support.
“Okay, fine. I wouldn't be watching this exactly. But I'd just be in my room watching
something
.” He shook his head, directing his focus back to whatever American flag motorcycle they were building this time. “You ever ridden on a bike?” Drew asked.
I nodded. “A few times. It was fun. Cold . . . but fun.”
“Yeah, that's part of the reason why that crowd wears so much leather.”
I snuck another glance at Drew's face. He was unshaven, reddish stubble peppering his jaw and chin. He looked relaxed around me for the first time in months. Granted, a large part of that reason was probably that we were on separate beds. But still. It was a nice change.
“So.” He cleared his throat. “You and Damien, huh?”
I could hear the pain in his question and it made my stomach twist. But then again, he was the one who had made his choice. He'd chosen the angel. I nodded. “Yeah. Me and Damien,” I answered even though I wasn't even sure if I was speaking the truth. We'd hooked up once. In our worlds, that does not make a relationship. Not even close.
Drew played with the drawstring on his hoodie and put on a brave smile. “That's good. I like Damien—he's a good guy.”
The lump caught in my throat. Drew's acceptance was like the final dagger in our chance for love. The fact that he wasn't even going to fight for me.
“Yeah,” I whispered. “He is a good guy.”
“I mean, he's still not good enough for
you,”
Drew added quietly, looking up from his hands to meet my eyes. “But he's better than most of the assholes I see you with.”
Warmth swelled in my chest and I tried to surreptitiously wipe away an errant tear that sprung from my leaky eyes. “Monica.” Drew swung his legs over the side of the bed so that he was sitting up. “If he makes you happy, why are you crying?”
His green eyes burned into mine and I bit my lip to stop the cascade of tears from spilling over my cheeks more than they already had. “Because I miss you,” I whispered. “I miss my best friend.”
I closed my eyes and heard rather than saw him come over to the bed I was on. I felt the weight as he sat next to me. Felt his arm slide around my shoulders and pull me into his strong chest. His stubble pricked into my face as he held me close and I didn't mind the scratchiness of it one bit. “I miss you, too,” he whispered. “You're going to come back and work at the coffee shop after all this, right? I mean, you didn't really quit, did you?”
I swallowed and nuzzled into his chest more, shrugging beneath his warm hands. “I don't know. I have to think about it. We may be better off not working together every day. It doesn't mean I wouldn't still be your number-one customer. . . .”
“For my sake, I hope you stay.”
I shrugged again. “I might. But I should start thinking more long-term.”
He sighed. “You know—I've been debating selling the cafe.”
That caught my attention. I jolted up, staring at him, my mouth gaping open. “What? That's . . . that's crazy. You love that place!”
With his thumbs, he brushed away my stray tears and angled my chin to look at him. “I love the community. I don't know that I love the business. Hell.” He chuckled. “I don't even really like coffee all that much. Besides”—his voice was barely a whisper—“if you're no longer there, it won't feel the same, anyway.” He looked down and smiled. “You know,” he said with a sigh, “I've always wanted to see Alaska. It's been a dream of mine to live way out there. I love the snow—damn, but I hate Vegas heat. I hate crowded cities.”
“So, why not? Why don't you go?”
Drew shrugged, a wistful look creeping along his features. “Adrienne hates the cold.”
I decided to let that one go and instead nuzzled closer, enjoying the closeness after feeling stripped of our friendship for so long. “What have you been doing here during the days while we were all working this case?”
I felt his eyes roll. “God. I feel like I've done everything this city has to offer. I've been hiking, rafting. Saw the sites, saw the town. There's a great bookstore you'd love. I'll take you there tomorrow—if you have time, of course.”
I nodded. “I bet I can make time.”
There was another pause before he interrupted the silence again. “Monica, what's going on lately? I know I'm not a ‘consultant' like you or a detective like Adrienne and Damien, but . . .” He trailed off and sighed. His chest rose and fell from beneath my cheek. “Something's up. I know it. And I can't help but feel like everyone's keeping some huge secret from me.”
I pulled back and looked up into his green eyes. They regarded me with warmth, but also skepticism. As though he might not believe whatever was next to come from my mouth. Could I tell him? I know it's against every rule Saetan and Mia, Queen of the Succubi, have set up for us . . . but he was surrounded by all of us so much more than most humans were. I opened my mouth, not knowing what exactly I was about to say.
The door pounded on the other side, making us jump apart. Drew swiped a hand down his face, guilt weighing heavy in his features. He stood, walking over to the door.
“Wait.” I held out a hand to stop him, grasping for his wrist. “Don't answer that!”
“Why not?”
Why not? A damn good question . . . one I didn't have an answer for.
“Monica!” Kayce's voice on the other side of the door made my heart jump into my throat.
Drew gestured to the door. “See? It's just Kayce.”
“No!” I whispered, squinting my eyes closed. She could of course hear everything on our side of the door. “Drew, don't let her in here,” I whispered as quietly as I could, crossing my fingers that maybe she didn't hear that. I could easily be overreacting about the phone call I'd heard, but my trust with her was waning. She was the last person I wanted to see at the moment.
He rolled his eyes, ignoring me. “Monica, don't be ridiculous.” He took the chain off the door and it swung open. Kayce's eyes flashed with anger as she looked around the room, gaze landing on me. She looked as though she could have spit bullets right into my skull.
“Oh, hey, Kayce.” I did my best to put on a casual smile.
“ ‘Oh, hey?' ” she mimicked. “Are you fucking serious? Why didn't you want him to open the door.”
I glanced from her to Drew and back again. “We were . . . having a moment.”
Drew looked at me with wide eyes, mouth gaping open at me. “We were . . . uh . . .” He coughed into his fist, not daring to meet either of our eyes. “Uh . . . well, that is we were . . .”
“Oh, my god,” Kayce said, rolling her eyes and slamming the door behind her. “I don't give a shit that you two were about to make out or
whatever
.” Her head snapped to look at me. “I need to talk to you. Now.”
“Yeah, Kayce . . . this really isn't a good time.”
“Why not?” Drew butted in. “We're just watching TV.”
My teeth ground together. Why did he always have to stick his nose where it didn't belong?
“Besides”—Kayce held up Aaron's iPad in her hand—“this is kind of important.”
“Fine,” I said, falling onto the bed. “But we'll talk in here.”
“Okay.” Kayce hesitantly took a seat on the bed across from me, glancing at Drew.
He cleared his throat, obviously feeling the tension between us. “Okay. Well, I'm just going to hop in and take a quick shower while you two . . .” His words faded; then he rolled his eyes and headed for the bathroom. “. . . do whatever it is you're going to do.”
Kayce tossed the iPad on the bed between us. “I decoded the message. Not that you even
deserve
my help.”
“Excuse me? What are you talking about?”
“You went through my things, Monica.” Kayce's eyes narrowed and her voice held venom that sent a shiver down my spine. She sounded more than angry. She sounded . . . deadly. “And I couldn't help but thinking . . . why would my best friend be snooping in my bags?”
“Can we just talk about the message first?” I swallowed and swiped my finger across the iPad screen.
“Oh, sure. Whatever Queen Monica wants.” Kayce yanked the iPad from my grip.
“Hey—!”
“It was easy to decode. This guy's a moron. Probably the worst assassin they could have chosen, lucky for you.” She shoved the iPad back into my hands with one eyebrow raised. “Once I figured out his code, I plugged the sequence into my program and it decoded the message for me.”
“Thanks,” I mumbled, looking down at the screen. “So, what is it?”
Kayce shrugged. “Not sure . . .”
“It looks like a poem . . . a weird poem. ‘Shriek and toil and burn and snare; eye of toad and newt's mad glare. When you look around and find, your actions will forever bind. Take care and when foils foe; you will burn, your innards glow.' ” I felt the magic winding around my tongue, taking hold of my breath and seeping out of my body. “Oh, shit.”
“Right?” Kayce exclaimed. “That was like the worst fucking poem ever. God, this guy is stupid in so many ways.”
“It wasn't a poem,” I whispered, bringing my fingers to my lips, which still tingled. “It was a spell.” A spell I had just completed in some way or another.
I braced myself for what was to come. Something magical—a pop or a crack signaling that whatever I had read aloud had changed anything in my existence. But nothing happened. The room was filled with silence; dead air hung around us.
“So what?” Kayce said, her voice filled with annoyance. She was getting to her breaking point—I knew the sound. And the feeling. “It's not like either of us can activate it.”

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