Soul Taker (5 page)

Harrison led Isabella to one of the tables
and pulled out a chair for her to sit down. He crouched down beside
her. "What happened?" he asked.

"Marcy was found dead. The EMT, who arrived
on the scene suspected a heart attack. I heard him call it into the
hospital." She met his gaze. "How does a perfectly healthy
twenty-four year old have a heart attack? She ran track in high
school for God's sake. Wouldn't her physician have seen if she had
something wrong with her heart long before now?"

All good questions
, Harrison thought.
Unfortunately, he couldn't answer them for her. "Marcy never hinted
she didn't feel well?"

She hesitated as if she wanted to share her
suspicions, but instead she clamped her mouth shut, her teeth
worrying her lower lip. She shook her head. "No, she never
complained."

Harrison would have asked her a few more
questions, but he spotted Isabella's brother heading toward them.
His protective stance told him to tread lightly with Isabella. He
didn't blame Nicholas for his concern. He felt protective of
Isabella, too. Harrison stood. "Hi, Nick."

"Harrison." Nicholas nodded toward him before
he glanced at his sister. He pushed back his glasses that had slid
down his nose. "I can handle everything here if you want, you could
go home."

"No." Isabella took a deep breath. "I
promised Mario I would help him in the kitchen." She stood and
looked at Harrison. "You'll stay for the vigil, won't you?"

"Absolutely." Harrison nodded.

Her hand brushed his arm with a gentle
squeeze of appreciation. She turned away then, and he watched her
walk toward the back of the restaurant and disappear into the
kitchen.

"My sister has been hurt before," Nicholas
said.

Harrison frowned. "Are you implying I might
hurt her?"

The O'Briens entered the restaurant, but
before Nicholas stepped away to greet the family, he leveled his
gaze on him. "No, I'm warning you not to."

Harrison's brows lifted. "I'm impressed," he
murmured under his breath as he stared at Nicholas' retreating
back. Obviously, there was more to Nicholas than the mild-manner
persona he displayed to the world.

Harrison glanced at his watch. He needed to
call Garran. They would have to check out Marcy's body to verify if
the
Soul Taker
took her out. If Isabella's hesitation was
any indication, she'd known Marcy was compromised.

The bell chimed on the door and Harrison
turned to see Johanna stroll in. Since Isabella was in the back and
Nicholas was preoccupied with the O'Briens, Harrison decided he
would greet her. He smoothed down his hair and took a deep breath.
Big mistake
. Johanna's scent made his senses swirl. God, the
woman turned his insides to gel and aroused him like no other. He
kept telling himself she wasn't his type, but his body obviously
thought otherwise.

Her gaze met his and her hand automatically
clutched her blouse close to her neck as if she feared he'd cop a
feel right there in the restaurant. Timid and unsure didn't mix
well in his world, especially since he was an alpha. His mate would
have to be strong, too. He almost chuckled. "Mate," the word came
out like a curse. Damn his libido for branding Johanna as his. He
should turn around and walk in the other direction, but his feet
had a mind of their own.

As he approached, Johanna took a step back,
bumping into a couple coming in the door.
No escape for you this
time, my sweet lass.
Harrison tried not to smile, but the big
bad wolf couldn't help baring its teeth—even if it was only a
grin.

"I'm sorry." Johanna turned with her
apology.

The couple nodded and headed toward the
O'Briens.

"How's it going?" Harrison asked and felt
like a fool for not coming up with a better line. Where were his
suave moves when he needed them? He could schmooze any woman into
his bed—if he had the mind to do so—but he couldn't even have a
decent conversation with Johanna. Then it hit him why. The women he
dated didn't expect forever. Johanna would.

Johanna tucked an imaginary hair behind her
ear and nervously licked her lips. Her gaze didn't quite meet his.
She concentrated on something right over his shoulder. He made her
nervous just standing in front of her. His brow furrowed with a
thought. What if she felt the undercurrent between them as he did
and that was why she was so nervous?

"Um… I'm doing well. Is Izzie around?" she
blurted out the question as if changing the subject would keep her
from having to talk to him.

"She's in the kitchen, helping Mario with the
food." He nodded toward the back.

"Oh."

"You don't have to be nervous around me." He
could hold himself back from taking her and kissing her, even if
his eyes said otherwise.

She looked at him briefly. She gulped and her
gaze dropped to her feet. "I… I'm not. Nervous that is."

His lips curved at her blatant lie. Her heart
thumped a mile a minute. His nostrils flared, taking in the sweet
smell of her, but he also picked up fear. For whatever reason, he
didn't want her to be afraid of him. He reached for her chin,
gently lifting it so her beautiful brown eyes met his. He needed
her to know the truth. "You can trust me," he repeated.

Her eyebrows drew together over the bridge of
her nose. She nodded and took a deliberate step back. His hand fell
to his side. "I'm…uh…going to see if Izzie needs any help. If
you'll excuse me." She made a wide sweep around him, nervously
checking over her shoulder as if she feared he'd follow.

Harrison let out a frustrated sigh and shook
his head. "Well, that went bloody fantastic." His mobile buzzed.
His hand slipped into his pocket as he stepped outside to take the
call. "You should have met me for dinner, Garran. I believe our
Soul Taker
has struck again."

Garran cursed. "That makes two this
week."

"He left her out in the open," Harrison
stated. "She was already dead. How is this guy staying off the
radar? Why haven't the health officials suspected that young women
aren't dropping dead from heart failure?"

"The
Soul Taker
, as ye like to call
him, is most likely glamourin' the authorities, but he won't be
able to make it last forever. Meet me at the morgue and we'll take
a look at the girl."

"Uh…" Harrison looked back toward the
restaurant. The place was crowded, all there to pay their
respects.

"Why do ye hesitate?" Garran's voice held a
note of impatience.

"Isabella kinda asked me to hang around here
for a wee bit. There's going to be a vigil," Harrison
explained.

"Well then,
clearly
ye should stay,"

Harrison didn't miss the sarcasm dripping
from Garran's words. He cleared his throat. "Yeah right, I'll meet
you at the hospital."

Chapter Six

The trick to not being caught was to act as
if you belonged. It also helped donning a couple of doctor's coats
Harrison swiped for them from one of the break rooms.

Garran glanced at Harrison with his unruly
hair and intense predator gaze. Garran was sure if he glanced in a
mirror, he wouldn't look harmless either. He'd been told enough
times his eyes were unsettling, both in color and the way they
assessed a person. Most of the time, the quality came in handy if
he needed to intimidate, but tonight he needed to blend in.

Garran had perfected the technique of fading
into the background, while he did his business, but there was still
an occasional glitch. There were humans who noticed everything and
couldn't stand it when their normal routine was a fraction of an
inch off kilter.

Unfortunately, tonight proved to be one of
those nights.

"Who are you again?" The dark haired, male
nurse looked Harrison over with suspicion as if he just witnessed
Harrison shifting into his wolf form. "I know for a fact you are
not Dr. Lee Yamagawa."

Garran glanced at the stitched name on
Harrison's jacket and frowned. "Listen, Briggs." Garran drew the
nurse's attention, making eye contact with the man. The nurse
resisted, but in the end his pull proved too strong to ignore. "Ye
never saw us here. Go back to the break room and have another cup
of coffee."

"I don't like coffee," Briggs said in a
monotone voice. Even in his trance-like state, he proved difficult
to influence.

Garran pushed again with his mind. "Ye do
now. In fact, ye love it so much ye're goin' to make a pot of
coffee to have later."

"A pot of coffee," he repeated.

"That's right. Now go."

Finally, Briggs obediently turned around and
headed in the opposite direction.

Garran threw Harrison a disapproving look.
"Yamagawa? Really?"

Harrison lifted a shoulder. "It was either
this jacket or Dr. Amy Wineberry."

Garran rolled his eyes and turned to stride
down the hall toward the hospital's morgue. He pushed open the
doors to the morgue and was pleased to see it stood empty—of
employees anyway.

He'd been in here more than a few times over
the last month and knew the staff's routine. They had twenty
minutes before the medical examiner returned from her lunch break.
Twenty would be plenty enough time.

Marcy was laid out on a cold slab, waiting
for an autopsy. Her lips were blue and postmortem bruising stained
areas of her pale skin where the blood settled after she died.

"I really hate morgues," Harrison mumbled as
he waited for Garran to make his assessment.

Along with the formaldehyde scent, Garran
picked up the preternatural creature on her, but like the other
victims, there were no visible puncture marks on her neck or the
inside flesh of her thigh. He slid his finger inside of Marcy's
mouth to check for the
Soul Taker's
signature mark. Rigor
mortis had set in, making it a challenge. He leaned down to take a
closer look. It was there. "Slight bruising on the roof of the
mouth."

"He's sucking the life out of them," Harrison
said. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down as if he swallowed
something large and nasty. "Bullocks, this isn't right. She was so
young, so full of life."

Garran lifted a brow. Harrison obviously had
taken a liking to the folks at the restaurant. A lone wolf,
Harrison was not. The wolf craved friendship and no matter where
they settled through the centuries, he made it a point to surround
himself with people. He should have been a pack leader, but he
refused the position when he would have had to fight a friend for
the spot. Some might have considered it cowardly, but it took more
courage to walk away and venture out on his own. Lone wolves
usually didn't survive for long, but then most didn't become
friends with a vampire either.

They made an unlikely team, but their
relationship worked for what they signed up for. Keeping the
preternatural world in check could be trying. Every territory had a
team to patrol the cities. Call it a police force, of sorts, for
the preternatural world.

"Sorry, it's just…" Harrison shrugged and
inhaled deeply, making his nostrils flare.

Garran understood. No matter how long he
lived, it didn't make it easier. It was why he preferred
associating with preternatural beings. They understood him better,
especially if they lived through the same decades. "Ye don't have
to make excuses with me. Ye knew her. I understand such emotions.
I'm no' a complete insensitive prick." Garran pulled the sheet over
Marcy's head. "We'll find him. Boston isn't big enough to hide in
forever."

"Aye, I know, but in the meantime he's
killing. This one was a friend." He stared at the sheet then to
Garran. "Isabella could bring her back. Just for a moment."

He was already shaking his head before
Harrison finished stating his suggestion. "Even if I agreed to yer
insane suggestion, I'm no' sure we could summon her soul back.
Marcy's soul is no' behind the veil. It's gone."

Chapter Seven

Isabella was grateful for the turnout.
Neighbors, relatives, and friends of Marcy's showed up. Father
Dominic from
St. Joseph's
was good enough to lead them in
prayer.

Isabella took a ragged breath, feeling a
chill creep up her spine. With her nerves on end, she couldn't help
looking over her shoulder and out the window to find the source of
her discomfort. She watched people walk by the restaurant, hurrying
to their destinations, oblivious that everyone in
A Taste of Home
mourned Marcy's passing. No one out of
the ordinary stood out among these people, but the feeling of being
watched made her shudder.

She rubbed her arms as her gaze shifted. In
the shadows, at the end of the street, a man wearing dark clothing
and a baseball cap stood there. She couldn't make out his features,
only the colors of his aura, but something was off with it. The
hues mingled and shifted at an alarming rate.

Her brows drew together in surprise as a
ghostlike essence materialized beside the man, as if it stepped out
of his body.
It was Marcy
. Fear lighted Marcy's features and
she looked right at her. Her mouth moved in a pitiful attempt to
communicate.

Isabella stood and walked over to the door to
get a better look, but the man must have realized the attention she
was giving him and turned on his heels, vanishing around the corner
and taking Marcy's spirit with him as if she were nothing more than
a helium-filled balloon tethered by a string.

Fear clutched Isabella's throat, warning her
of danger, which didn't make any sense. She hadn't completed the
ritual to bring Marcy back. Even if Nicholas hadn't interrupted
her, her attempts to summon Marcy would have probably failed. She
couldn't sense the woman's soul lingering, but just now… She was
sure she saw Marcy's spirit. What she didn't understand is why it
was attached to that man, as if he bound her spirit to him.