My Heart be Damned (33 page)

“Chuck? It’s me,
Amerie
. Look, I really need your help. Can you get a van?”

I had just about enough time to explain everything Chuck that I needed to, before Marshall
signaled
that someone was coming. I hung up the phone and helped Marshall climb back out of the window just as the door swung open. Miranda’s high heels glided over the broken glass as she made her way towards me, face like the cat that got the cream.

“Not thinking of escaping, are we?” She swung a set of shackles around.

“It smells
kinda
musty in here, if you hadn’t noticed,” I said, smiling bitchily at her. “Just trying to get some air. Oh, and do you have any chocolate? I’m starved. You’d think you would treat your guests a little better.”

Miranda rolled her eyes. “I can’t wait to see your spunk splattered all over the cathedral floor.”

“It can’t wait to see you either.”

“Be a good girl and put these on. If you don’t cooperate, I have permission to kill your little friend. He’s cute. You should’ve taken advantage of his willingness.”

I ignored her and held my hands out. She slapped the shackles on and yanked me forward like a disobedient dog. Wordlessly, I trailed behind her as she led the way out.

The hallway outside was horrendous. Rubble pretty much made up the floor, and gunk dripped from parts of the ceiling that hadn’t fallen through. Old medical trolleys and mattresses were overturned, and Miranda had fun yanking me around them as we made our way to the asylum chapel. Considering how demolished the rest of the asylum was, the chapel was in quite good shape. The stained glass windows were intact, and though the pews had been torn up, the intricate towering archways remained in perfect condition.

At the very back, where the altar had been, was a cluster of people all huddled over something. Putting the statue back together. I’d put money on it. Sprawled across the floor, not five feet away from them, was Sam. I tried to run to him, but Miranda yanked me back, the shackles cutting into my skin.

“Bad puppy,” she hissed, and then laughed. She led me forward, whistling to herself, and the sound echoing through the empty room.

When we got to the last pillar, she stopped, and padlocked the ends of the shackles around it, leaving me on my feet. With a proud glance my way, she skipped towards the others and circled them, clapping and grinning at their progress.

“This is so lame,” I called. “Tying me up when your boss isn’t even here. Afraid of a little Hunter, are you?”

Miranda stopped and glared at me. She crossed the short distance and backhanded me across the face. “Don’t talk about him.”

“Now, now,” a deep voice echoed. “Don’t take all the fun, Miranda. You know I want the pleasure of torturing her, myself.”

From behind the pillar, that was opposite of me, stepped a large, strange looking man. He had tattoos all over his bald head, and a body that looked like pure muscle. Even if I hadn’t known who he was, I would still be afraid.

Something seized in my stomach. Finally, I was face to face with my mother’s murderer. Instead of being strong or lashing out at him as I always imagined I might, I stayed silent, ignoring the fearful tremor running through my body.

“You’re very pretty.” He kept a few feet away from me, staring at me as though I was a piece of art in a museum. “You look just how your mother looked at sixteen. So beautiful, so feisty. I’m going to pretend you’re her when I slit your throat.”

My blood ran cold. “How would you know what my mother looked like back then?”

A smile spread across his face. I didn’t like what it might mean.

“What? Your mother didn’t tell you about poor ol’ Freddie? Her best friend in school? The boy who followed her around like a little puppy until her secrets got his whole family killed?”

My legs shook as I tried to process his words. My mother had never mentioned a male best friend during school. In fact, she didn’t mention school at all, except that she’d met my dad there. But then a memory flashed before me; the one where my mum told me to keep my friends at a distance.

“I...” I froze, wanting so badly to say something to wipe the sadistic smile off his face, but nothing came.

“I bet you think your mother’s death was unfair. Don’t you? That I’m a big, mean baddie who came along and took your mother from you for no reason?” The smile slipped from his face, and his expression darkened. Quick as a flash, he was in front of me; his hand grasped my cheeks. “Your mother deserved far worse than what she got.”

I twisted out of his grip. “Fuck you. You know nothing about my mother. You’re out of your mind. Nothing more than a crazy shit I’m going to kill.”

“I loved her.” He punched me hard in the jaw. “And you call me crazy again I’ll make you wish you were never born.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for the pain to go away. Bright lights flashed behind my eyelids. There was no way Seal could be telling the truth. I had to know more. Maybe, if I goaded him, I could stall enough time for Marshall to help me.

“Why do you hate her so much?” I demanded, finally opening my eyes. He’d moved back across the room and was wiping imaginary lint from his clothes.

“I didn’t know what she was back then. It wasn’t until I’d died and gone to Hell that I learned. Everything fit together then, like a little puzzle. I used to lie awake wondering why those people wanted to lure your mother to my house to kill her.” He shook his head, still focused on his outfit. “They got bored of waiting. They started on my mum first. Made us watch while they tortured and killed her. Then my sister. Then my dad. By the time they moved onto me, your highness finally showed up. Too little too fucking late.”

All thoughts of stalling fled. My mother had been the reason his family was killed? I felt sick.

“But enough of that!” Seal said, dropping his hands and staring at me. “We’ve got a ritual to start! I genuinely do hate you Hunters. But after this, you’ll be lucky if there’s enough of you to fill a drain hole.”

“Yeah? Well, the Hunter you hate so much is the reason your little ritual won’t be happening,” I snapped.

“Hmm, did you know that we’re almost finished putting the statue back together, that you so rudely smashed?” Seal asked, stepping closer to me again.

From the crowd of Damned, someone spoke up. “We’ve done it, master. But one piece seems to be missing.”

“Well, find it!” Seal roared. It echoed three times around the room. “I don’t care if you have to go back to where she smashed it. You’ll find my missing piece.”

Miranda moved to Seal’s side. “I think she has it.” She gestured her head at me.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Actually, you know who might know where it is?” Seal asked. “Your little friend here.”

“He doesn’t know anything.” I tried to keep my voice controlled, but everything inside me shook at the thought of what they could do to him.

“Maybe not on a conscious level. Maybe I should dive inside him and take a look around.”

I moved forward, but the shackles kept me in place. “There’s no way you can use him as a host. He’s not going to Hell. Not Sam.”

“While you were hunting for the Coat of
Tarham
, I was looking for something else. Some help with something – a project - I’d always wanted to do,” Seal explained. He turned his back on me, staring at Sam. “All I need now is a test subject.”

“What’re you talking about?”

When Seal spun back around, his face manic. “
Sssh
, don’t tell anyone. But I’ve found a way to hop bodies without having to go back to a graveyard first. And guess what? Your little friend there happens to be a perfect match for me. Isn’t that a coincidence?”

My chest tightened. “There’s no way your soul can just happen to mesh with his. Like I said, Sam’s too good to be destined for Hell already.”

“But how well do you really know him?” Seal rested a finger on his chin in mock contemplation. “I’m betting not much. Here, I’ll show you.”

“No!” I shouted.

Seal crossed his arms over his chest and seemed to take in a large breath. Then, with a huge burst of light, his body crumpled to the floor and didn’t get up again.

Sam moved though. With an agility that I knew only Damned had, he flipped to a standing position and shook out his arms and legs. Then a large smile spread across his face.

“Feels like home.” The voice was Sam’s, but the person behind those eyes most definitely wasn’t. I wanted to throw up. Everything within me was dirty and cold. Sam, sweet, innocent Sam, was now one of the Damned. And it was all my fault. I struggled against my shackles. I needed to do something except stand there.

“I’ll send your Soul back to hell,” I warned. “I’ll set Sam free, from you.”

Seal laughed, childlike. “Oh,” he said gleefully. “Did I forget to mention the part about me, and only me, choosing when I give up this nice, warm body? It’s quite an interesting twist to the ritual, don’t you think? Kill me, and the kid dies too.”

“You’re lying...” I said, even though it wasn’t possible for him to do so.

“Test me and find out.”

Beside Sam-now-Seal, Miranda looked as if Christmas had come early. I struggled again, loosening the shackles slightly, but not enough. I had to try something different.

“By the way, you really don’t look so scary in the body of a seventeen-year-old boy,” I said. “I’d laugh if you tried to attack me. Oh, and talk about issues. You should really talk to someone about that. I mean, come on! It’s been, what, twenty-three years? Get over yourself.”

Miranda lunged forward and backhanded me. My head whipped to the side as pain shot up my cheek. “Watch your mouth,” she hissed.

“Look how weak you are. You know, if I was untied, I’d beat you down.”

With a growl, Miranda spun and kicked me in the chest so hard that the pillar I was shackled to split in half and I flew back, my shackles sliding through the gap.

Perfect. I thought she’d be harder to crack than that.

I rolled to my feet just as the doors burst open and Marshall ran in, wielding a gun. Shots fired, and the noise echoed around the room. I hoped they were Blessed bullets - there were innocent people in here.

Taking advantage of my distraction, Miranda punched the side of my head. I staggered slightly, and then swung the padlocked end of the shackles into her face,
whipped it back, and hit her again. An ugly welt began to form, but she ignored it and rushed at me, both of us falling to the floor.

More shots echoed throughout the building, and it occurred to me that Marshall might try to shoot Sam. I pushed Miranda off me, jumped to my feet and ran towards Marshall, shouting his name. Miranda caught up with me, though, and threw me into one of the other stone pillars. She followed through with a jab. I blocked it and hit her back. This bitch had to die.

She grabbed hold of my shackles and pulled me into her. I slammed my forehead into hers and wrenched the chain back. Then I reached under the skirt of my dress and yanked out the dagger they hadn’t found, tied to my thigh. Miranda’s eyes widened when she saw it.

“I knew I should have let Hank strip search you,” she seethed.

I bounced the dagger in my hand, advancing over to her. “Your mistake.”

“Next time.”

“There won’t be a next time.”

I spotted Sam and Marshall out of the corner of my eye. They fought hand to hand, Marshall’s gun lay discarded a few feet away from them. It shocked me, momentarily, to see Sam lash out with such strength and skill, until I remembered what was inside him.

Miranda, determined not to be forgotten, feinted to the right, but I realized it, and blocked her way. Right behind her was another pillar. She was trapped. Instead of trying to dodge me, she ran at me, grabbing at the hand my dagger was in, and slamming my arm against her knee, in an attempt to disarm me. I held tight, not daring to lose control of my weapon. With my free hand, I rammed punches into her face until she finally let go. Then I ducked, and swept my leg around to drop her on the floor. As soon as she landed on her back, I brought the dagger straight down into her chest and twisted it, making sure I undoubtedly had it in.

There was no triumph in my win. And now, Sam had the gun and was pointing it at Marshall. I jumped up and pumped as much speed into my legs as possible, needing to get there before anything happened. I didn’t know how Blessed weapons would affect Marshall, and I seriously didn’t want to find out.

“Sam, no!” I shouted, diving between them just as Sam fired.

It didn’t happen like they say it does, in books or in movies. Nothing happened in slow motion. The bullet burst straight through my stomach in a way that made me feel like my whole body was on fire. Instinctively, my hands touched the entry hole, and when I pulled them away, blood coated both palms.

“
Amerie
!” Marshall caught me as my knees buckled.

I couldn’t speak at first. My mouth opened and closed soundlessly. A tear of frustration leaked down my cheek. It wasn’t supposed to end like this. We were supposed to stop the ritual and win! And though the ritual was done, I was dying anyway. What a waste. Unless…