Soul Stealer (34 page)

Chapter Thirty-Two

Saleem awoke warm, well before sunrise. Actually, looking at the clock, he realized he’d only been out a little over two hours.

He covered a yawn and rolled onto his back, startled when his skin hit something soft behind him. He rubbed his eyes, the fall of dark hair bringing back the memory of Claudia crawling into bed next to him. Her hair covered her pillow, and the only part of her face he could see was the tip of her button nose down to her jawline. He knew staring at her while she slept was a horrible intrusion of her privacy, but she’d gotten in his bed, right?

No, he’d told her to sleep next to him.

He swallowed hard, feeling the warmth down his side that was close to but not touching her. If he kept staring at her like this he was going to get completely strung out.

She was in the way of him getting up, but she was also very deep in sleep. He sat up, carefully positioned an arm on each side of her, and swung a leg up over her hip, then moved to roll off on his far knee, not unlike swing
ing your leg to get off a bike.

Except Claudia woke up. And looked right up in to his face.

Her face went from confused to pissed off in about one tenth of a second, and she shoved upwards at him.

“I’m just trying to get out of bed, Claudia,” he said gently, ducking her hand as she moved to slap him. He climbed off the bed as intended, a groin shot from her knee just barely missing its mark.

“Saleem -”

“I mean it,” he said, unable to keep the laugh out of his voice. “And I’m pretty sure when we went to sleep you were against the wall.”

She looked sheepish for a moment and he caught himself before he could sigh at how adorable it was. “You kept moving closer to me. I switched with you while you were sleeping.”

“Oh. I’m so sorry.”

“No, please don’t be sorry. I just can’t sleep when I’m that warm.”

“Maybe I should sleep on the sofa …” he began, letting it hang there.

“I’d rather have you here.”

He swallowed. “Let me use the washroom. I’ll be right back.”

Saleem’s feet were shocked by the cold bathroom tiles, but the cooler air was a relief too. His body was wigging out from seeing Claudia warm, sleepy, wearing a T-shirt with nothing else on underneath. And she’d taken off the flannel pants, too. Apparently she was far too warm in bed next to him …

His entire body was burning. He splashed cold water on his face, exhaling loudly. This was bad, so bad. His erection held a throbbing pain and he tried to order his body to just chill out.

How many more days left in Ramadan again?

Once he cooled his jets he returned to the bedroom, and unfortunately Claudia was right where he’d left her, looking deliciously unaware that she was killing him. She’d turned the lamp on.

“Did you have another night terror?” She asked, tucking her legs back under the covers.

“No. I really thought it was time to get up. I passed right out for some reason. Feels like I’ve had my eight hours already.” He sat next to her, facing outward into the room a
nd leaning with his elbows on his knees.

“Is everything okay? Really?”

He closed his eyes, his body warming again. “I’m fine, really. Everything just suddenly seems strange.”

“Should I go?”

He half-turned, taking her hand. “No, no. That’s not it at all. Sorry. It’s really warm in here.”

“I know.”

She shifted, turning so she was on her side, propped up on one arm. Hair mussed, face flushed, she was kryptonite to his resolve.

Saleem was still staring. She was just smiling at him then she leaned forward. Her dark eyes were locked on his lips.

He licked them as a reflex.

Her breath caught.

Saleem closed the distance between them, his eyes sliding closed. When his lips met hers he sighed. Her mouth was so soft, responding to him with the slightest pressure in return. When her lips parted, her tongue darting forward, his was already there. He moaned at the touch.

Claudia scooted closer, not parting their mouths, rising up to his level on her knees. He cupped her face with both hands, tilting her head slightly for the best access to this kiss.

It was like having golden light flood through your blood. Sunshine warming his skin from the inside out. Sparks exploding behind his closed eyelids and shooting from his fingertips. When she pulled him closer, wrapping her arms around the back of his neck, pressing herself to his chest, his brain completely shorted out. He drew up a knee, rising up onto it and angling her back into his bed. She let herself be led. Their legs wound around each other, but he didn’t want to stop kissing her to think about that.

Her hands were in his hair, running down his arms, across his back, almost everywhere at once. They shot under his shirt at the small of his back, pulling up on the hem. He had to part mouths long enough to pull it off, but as soon as the scrap of cotton was c
lear he shot his tongue back into her, and she gave the most fantastic groan of satisfaction he’d ever heard as she scored his lower back lightly with her nails.

“Tsk tsk, Saleem. We’re just halfway into Ramadan.”

He was so startled and immediately angry he thought he might have saw red. Claudia gave a startled shriek, and he was huddling her behind him before even thinking that they might be in danger.

Two men were standing in front of him, and there was no way they weren’t twins. They were even dressed the same – like Black Ops special forces or something. But their faces were bare and beautiful. Saleem had to blink against the need to gasp.

Their jaws were sharp and square. Their eyes shone almost honey-yellow, which had to mean they were wearing contacts. And gorgeous auburn hair hung down, straight and glossy, all the way to their belts.

But what the hell were they doing here?

“Who are you?” Saleem asked. “How did you get in? And how do you know my name?”

The book-end strangers shared a look, blinking. One of them spoke as they both looked back at him in unison, unnerving, really. “We’ve been watching you a while.” His eyes darted over Saleem’s shoulder. “You too, Claudia.”

He felt her hand tighten on his shoulder, and he spoke just to get this guy to stop looking at her. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Remind me again the rules of Ramadan. Fasting during daylight hours. No sexual contact with anyone. And some even forsake cursing. I am guessing you pick and choose what you observe?”

The other one spoke before Saleem could respond. “You are both being called to serve. You were born to do this. And the time has now come.”

Saleem swallowed with difficulty, knowing it was likely louder than he would have liked.  “The time for what?”

The one who hadn’t spoken leaned forward, stooping over with hands on knees to look Saleem level in the eye. “Time to save the human race.”

Detective Greg Nailor blinked at the mangled form in the alleyway, not from a queasy stomach but from a nearly blinding rage.

The mass of meat cooling on the filthy concrete was lit up by portable illumination, shining incredibly stark beams of artificial sunshine. This subject matter was clearly meant to stay in the shadows.

So far they were operating under the assumption that a wallet in a purse under the body’s arm belonged to the deceased, which would mean the wallet inside held the right ID. Jocelyn Temple, age: 23. Young. Plump and pretty. Perfect driving record.

Dead all the same.

The meat from her legs and abdomen was gnawed away. Her eyes stared upward at a night sky that didn’t give a shit about the violence that had been rendered underneath it.

His blood felt like battery acid under his skin. He saw everything in shades of red that had nothing to do with the bloody scene. He was very good at corralling his anger to a fine point that gave him tunnel vision.

The real trouble was this scene held nothing. All the refuse in the alley was ancient garbage and scattered items that had belonged to the victim, clearly. Her keys, her lipstick, her fake nails that had come off when she’d tried to fight off whoever did this.

They’d check for sexual assault at the coroner’s. But he knew it wouldn’t be there; this felt just like the woman in that apartment, the one that belonged to the guy in the hospital who by some miracle had vanished.

The rest of the uniforms were itching to get the fuck out of that alley, and Nailor felt the same skin-crawling need to get away as well but his anger was too much a living thing that kept him where he was.

He knew very well that women could be just a vicious as men, but seeing this kind of gore done to a woman made his old-fashioned caveman stand up and bellow. He hated that people did this to women. He didn’t see them as weak, just too important for this kind of thing.

What a waste.

His blood didn’t boil so much as burn. He would love nothing more than to find the monster that did this and tear him limb from limb. Slowly and painfully.

He joined the uniformed constable who had driven him to the scene: Trevor Vance. In the short time he’d spent with Vance he already decided that he liked the man. He was smart, calm and cool, and had a great eye. Plus he wasn’t much of a chatterer, which Nailor really appreciated.

Vance nodded acknowledgement of his presence, reading over his handwritten notes and not looking up.

“So, this is just like Thea Thiel, the girl in that high rise the other day. No clothing fibers, nothing with DNA. There’s just nothing.” Nailor summed it up with a few sentences.

“This is getting frustrating. I know this is linked to those other, non-violent deaths, too. But the only thing linking them is this uneasy feeling, and I don’t think my feelings hold any weight in court.” Vance turned shrewd and smart eyes his way. Nailor nodded, showing he was “with him” on that. Vance looked around to see who else might be hearing and Nailor found himself leaning in like a conspirator.

“What is it, Vance? You look like Lassie when she hears Timmy calling.”

“You’re not quite old enough to have watched Lassie.”

“Neither are you. So what gives?”

Vance closed his notebook, tucking it away in his breast pocket and sliding the pen next to it. “Can I talk to you about something and have you swear you won’t have me committed for thinking this way?”

Nailor crossed his arms, genuinely interested now. “Vance?”

“We should get coffee.” He nodded across the street, and Nailor followed his lead to a greasy spoon diner. They ordered two coffees then took a window booth so they could still see across the street.

He just waited for Vance to talk, watching the guy doctor up his coffee. He could be patient, too. He drank his coffee black so he started with that.

“About seven months ago we had a few murders; real gruesome, bloody stuff. We caught the guy, had it backed up with DNA evidence. He was nuts. They put him in the psych ward. He was certifiable. But there was something so off about the whole thing.”

“Your cop gut was telling you what?”

“We had this guy arrested three times, and he escaped every time. And the guy was walking heebie-jeebies. I mean you could almost smell the stank of what this guy had done in the past. You watched your back around him and just knew that there was a special pit in hell waiting to take the guy back when he kicked it.”

Nailor swallowed a gulp. “So this guy was more than just a bad guy. He was all-out creepy as fuck, too.”

“Yeah. And like I said, we had him in custody three times. The last time, he turned himself in. Just walked in the lobby of a district in another damn city and surrendered. They brought him back here for treatment. I saw him. And he was not the same.”

“How do you mean?”

“He was small, a meek-looking guy. And when he went inside he was … small and meek. That malevolence, that fucking sense of complete weirdo was wiped right out. He was just a guy you wouldn’t even notice on the subway.”

Nailor rubbed the back of his neck. “And this,” he motioned out the window at all the police noise out on the street, “this reminds you of those crime scenes?”

Vance’s eyes were too clear and focused as he met Nailor’s gaze. And very lucid. “It’s the exact same thing. I thought we were past it. And now … this.”

“So aside from the boogeyman, does this bring on any new leads?”

Vance shook his head. “Everyone involved in that scheme is now dead as of tonight. But in the whole weird ending of the drama, one of our cops was knocked out, woke not remembering how she’d come to be where she was at that time; in the presence of a guy that we had an eye on as a suspect. And another stranger from out of town who all the others admitted was strange, too. And he bit it, no one remembering why.” Vance rubbed his hand through his hair. “I’m losing you. This makes no sense.”

Nailor tapped the table to bring him back. “Instincts are all we’ve got to work with. What are you saying here?”

“I have seen a lot of things without putting all that much time into the job. However, this is the first time I’ve ever felt like there might be forces out of my control at work in our world, messing around with things. And we can’t make it make any sense in our parameters.”