Soul Bound (7 page)

The creepy Indian princess approached him, needle in hand.

“Are you going to stab me with that thing?”

His humor was lost on her. She remained focused, intent. “No. Unless the tip has been dipped in angel’s blood, it would be pointless.”

Okay, so he wasn’t the only one who was nuts. “I thought you said you were here to draw blood.”

From her white coat pocket, she pulled out two vials filled to the brim. “As far as everyone’s concerned, I already have.”

Now she was seriously freaking him out. “Were you in my room yesterday? When I was in the shower?”

Pleasure curled her mouth, and hatred made her dark gaze burn. “I know what you are.” The statement sounded like a death omen.

“Don’t come any closer.”

The woman—what had Cassie called her, Diane?—froze. Frissons of shock spilled from her body. She struggled to move but couldn’t. “How? I’m one of you.” Her surprise was palpable.

Jace couldn’t help but feel he was missing something. “Who are you? Tell the truth.”

“My name is Diahann.” She bit her lower lip, but it was too late. The words had already escaped.

“Fine. What are you?”

She groaned, fighting to break whatever spell he’d cast on her. “An angel of death and destruction. Spawn of the fallen.”

Jace didn’t understand what was happening any more than she did, but he had every intention of milking it. “Why are you here?”

“To kill you.”

“Why?”

“Because Athanatos ordered me to.”

What kind of madhouse had he stumbled into? “Who’s Athanatos?”

“An Ancient. The most powerful one of all. Ruler of the Kleptopsychs.”

This creature was a mystery to him. He sensed a life-force in her, but it didn’t fit, like it didn’t belong there, and she was slowly choking the life out of it.

“I’ve answered your questions. Now set me free.”

“Why would I want to do that? So you can come after me again, this time with a chainsaw?”

“You can’t keep me like this forever. And you can’t kill me. You don’t know how.”

“I could always return the favor and drown you.”

Fear drenched her features. Her eyes went black again, and everything in the room began to quake. The pitcher of water on his nightstand fell and shattered. The noise startled him, and he inadvertently released the mental hold he had on her. In a streak, she was gone, a dark specter fading in the light.

Jace collapsed on the bed, suddenly drained. Weakness clawed at his limbs, left him tired and spent. Sweat sprang from his pores as a chill skated over his flesh. The nurse’s words reverberated in his mind, both a revelation and a curse.

Angel of death and destruction. Spawn of the fallen.

What on God’s earth was going on? Or more precisely, what the hell had he become?

When Lia returned to Jace’s room, Cassie was gone, and Jace lay on the bed, sweating and shivering. Concern had her rushing to his side, checking his pulse. His heartbeat was weak. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to be running a fever. She ran her palm over his face just to be sure. Her touch seemed to comfort him. As if she’d flicked some imaginary switch, the shivering stopped.

His fingers suddenly closed in a vise-like grip around her wrist. His lids sprang open, and his heated gaze latched on to hers. The need sizzling in his eyes burned a trail straight to her gut and turned her knees to rubber.

He pulled her closer, whispered in her ear. “You’ve got something I need.”

The words, coupled with the intensity with which they were spoken, sent a pleasant shiver racing down her spine.

“Just take it easy and let me examine you.”

The more she touched him, the more he settled. Energy vibrated between them, an invisible current that bound them to each other. Slowly the sweat on his flesh dried. Vitality gushed back in to brighten his ashen complexion. He wrapped his hand around hers, drew her palm to his face again. A thin blanket of stubble brushed her skin and made it prickle uncomfortably. Fire raced through her to wind itself around her heart, the way his fingers wound around hers. “You’re an angel, Lia. A healer.”

The man was delirious. She yanked her hand free. “Sit still and let me listen to your heart.” She placed her stethoscope on his chest. His heartbeat has resumed its normal pace, strong and steady.

Leaning her hip against the bed frame, she released a long breath that rattled in her lungs. “What happened to you, Jace? You were perfectly fine an hour ago. Did you have some kind of seizure?”

He sat up, his expression deep and pensive. “You could say that. A nurse came and drew some blood. Guess it wiped me out.”

Why did he refuse to meet her eyes? “You’re telling me a couple of vials of blood knocked you off your feet?”

“Looks like I’m lily-livered. Can’t stand the sight of blood.”

Doubt had her squinting in thought. “It’s just about time for your MRI. We better get a move on. Think you can walk or should I get a wheelchair?”

“I’ll walk, thanks.” He jumped out of bed, stood tall and powerful beside her. Awareness made every feminine instinct within her vibrate. No one filled a room quite the way Jace Cutler did.

Thoughts of Cassie trickled into her consciousness, followed by a stab of guilt. “I forgot to ask. How did things go with my sister?”

“Not so good. She’s going to need you.”

Lia didn’t like the sound of that. “What happened?”

He didn’t answer. Resignation hardened his features. “Can I have a minute? Nature calls. I’ll meet you outside.”

She nodded, gently made her way to the door. “Don’t take too long. We’re running late.” She was about to walk out when he intoned her name. Reluctance tugging at her heels, she turned around to face him and nearly drowned in his sea-green eyes.

“Thanks, for everything.” Emotion deepened his voice. “I meant what I said. You really are an angel.”

Why did she get the distinct feeling he was saying goodbye?

“Just doing my job.” With a last lingering glance at his perfect face, she walked out and closed the door behind her.

She waited close to ten minutes. When he didn’t come out, she went back in to check on him and found the room empty, which made no sense because there was no other way out.

“Jace?”

No answer.

She searched the bathroom, the small closet, she even looked under the bed. Jace Cutler had vanished. From across the room, the window yawned. She ran to it, peeked over the ledge, and gazed outside. A bird flew past her with frantic wings, startling her. Four stories below, traffic roared. Far beyond the mountains, black clouds continued to boil. But there was no sign of Jace. She’d gone from a world where science and reason ruled to one where men came back to life and escaped tall buildings in a single bound.

But most perplexing of all was the small death that claimed her soul once she realized he was gone.

Chapter Seven

“You asked to see me.” Marcus leaned against the doorjamb at the threshold of Cal’s office, unsure if he should enter. His leader seemed quiet, lost in thought. Cal wasn’t the conversational type on a good day. On a bad day, he was completely closed off.

“You can come in. I won’t bite.”

Marcus entered the minimalistic room set at the heart of this metal construction most believed was a secret military base, cloaked in fog and foliage. Only the Watchers knew the truth. They usually made it a point to move around, but they’d called Cascade Head home for over a year now, ever since they’d gotten word that the Kleptopsychs had moved their base to Oregon. They had yet to locate them, though. Marcus was beginning to wonder if their informant had been mistaken.

“There’s been a development. A trusted source has just advised me that a Hybrid was admitted to the Rivershore Hospital two nights ago.”

“Is he sure?”

Cal nodded. “Apparently, there’s a resident there who swears she saw one of the trauma patients come back from the dead.”

“Might be another false alert.”

Twisting the ring on his finger, an ancient silver band engraved with a symbol Marcus couldn’t identify, Cal stood and approached him. “I considered that. But then my source mentioned an unexplained flood in that very patient’s room.”

All of Marcus’s instincts flared to attention. “When?”

“Yesterday.”

“Do you think Athanatos is involved?”

Cal stopped twisting his ring. His lean body stiffened as purpose coursed through him. “I don’t think. I know.” Marcus was man enough to admit that Cal had an arresting face—boyish but powerful. At the moment, that face was set in a concerned scowl.

“If he’s really in town.”

“He’s in town.” The certainty with which Cal spoke left no room for doubt. “Crime is up. Accidents have doubled. The weather’s growing more and more erratic. Then there was that riot in Pioneer Square. An organized feeding, no doubt.” He turned and stalked the room, emotion contorting his features.

Cal wasn’t like the rest of them. He felt things much more acutely, guilt in particular, to the point where he was defined by it. He’d been around forever, long before any of them were born, some said from the very beginning of time itself. “Trust me, Marcus, the Kleptopsychs are holed up here somewhere. They want access to the catacombs. There are only a few strategic locations on the globe that provide that. Oregon is one of them.”

“And this Hybrid,” Marcus asked, “did he survive?”

“Yes. Our new friend seems to have nine lives.”

Silence thickened between them, a living beast holding its breath. Then Cal finally spoke. “His name is Jace Cutler. Find out everything you can about him. Then bring him to me.”

Before Marcus could leave to carry out his orders, Cal pulled a glass vial from his desk and handed it to him. “Angel’s blood. Just in case.”

Marcus didn’t know how Cal got his hands on the stuff, but he seemed to have an endless supply of it. With a nod, he took the vial and retreated from the stark room. Expertly, he navigated the narrow halls that would lead him outside, where intermittent rays of sunlight painted the world gold. A world he’d never truly belonged to or ever would, but one he’d sworn to protect to the death. Even if he had to kill his own kind to do it.

The world could be a pretty daunting place when you had no idea where the hell you belonged. Nothing looked familiar. Not the cobblestone streets, not the arts-and-crafts booths, not the people strolling down the sidewalks. Overwhelming smells soaked the air as Jace melted into the crowd. An endless throng of tourists and shoppers bustled beneath the Burnside Bridge. He had no idea how he knew the name of the bascule bridge that spanned the Willamette River or that he found himself smack in the middle of the Portland Saturday Market. Disjointed thoughts came to him, pieces of a puzzle hinting at a big picture he was unable to see.

The commotion, the noise and smells and auras, were disconcerting. He felt smothered by them, squeezed and flattened. He needed to get out of here.

A pedestrian jostled him, gave him an angry glare. “Hey, buddy, watch where you’re going.”

“I’m not your buddy.” Jace returned the man’s unflinching stare. “If I were you, I’d keep walking.”

Without another word, the guy continued on his way. Jace watched him leave, eyebrows raised in silent query. For some reason, he’d been expecting a fight.

Then again, since he’d awakened in that hospital room, nothing was what he expected it to be. Every instinct he possessed had urged him to stay there with Lia, told him that she was the key somehow.

But he couldn’t. Not without putting her at risk. Diane had made that, if nothing else, clear. He’d become something he didn’t understand. Something dark, dangerous. Something that apparently screwed with everyone’s head. The fact that he’d jumped out of the fourth-story window and landed on his feet without as much as a scratch only added to the mystery. The window had been open when Diane had vanished yesterday after his near drowning. He was willing to bet that was how she’d escaped without Lia seeing her. He hadn’t gleaned much from their conversation, but he knew one thing for sure—Diane wasn’t human, and apparently, neither was he. So he’d chanced it and jumped, only confirming his suspicions. No human could survive that kind of fall. Not without divine intervention or the help of some unholy power. One he couldn’t even bear to contemplate.

Angel of death and destruction. Spawn of the fallen.
The words circled his brain like a curse.

He stopped at one of the booths to buy himself a shirt. Since his was torn and bloodied, he hadn’t bothered putting it on before leaving the hospital. Instead, he’d donned the scuffed leather jacket he’d found in the closet. The sun’s hot rays beat down on him, but his body refused to break into a sweat. He should’ve been fried to the bone by now, and yet he barely felt the heat. Just the same, for the sake of blending in, he found a quiet corner, tugged off the heavy jacket and threw on the new shirt.

Determined to get out of this weekend crowd, he bought a rail ticket and boarded the MAX. It surprised him that he knew the precise line that would take him home. Remnants of the man he’d been before the incident still dwelled within him. He just wasn’t sure how to piece them together yet.

He sat on the train and quietly watched the world streak by, watched shadows paint eerie shapes on the ground and buildings as a soft mist rolled in from the north. Despite his best efforts to chase her from his thoughts, memories of Lia invaded his mind—the way her clear blue eyes grew smoky when she was frightened, the soft twitch of her lips when she struggled not to smile, the soothing feel of her touch, the way her presence filled him with something he could’ve sworn was hope.

He didn’t have a clue about his past, but he was willing to bet he’d never experienced anything like this before. Maybe walking out on her hadn’t been such a gangbuster idea after all. If he’d stuck around…

No, leaving was his best option. He couldn’t allow her to run an MRI on him. There was no telling what she’d find. The truth was, a part of him didn’t want to know what he’d become, didn’t want her to know. For some stupid reason, her opinion of him mattered.