Soul Stealer (40 page)

“And what about you?” Voro asked suddenly. “I mean, you’re not a human soul. What happens to the soul of an angel?”

Claudia raised an eyebrow, this being the first term she’d heard the world “angel.”

“I have no idea,” Raphael replied, resolved to the fact. “I might be stuck here for a mortal lifetime. I might never come back.”

A light and cold wind rolled across the ground, sending a discarded receipt flitting across the concrete. That breeze was too cold, she realized. It was as though it came from a minus forty wind chill on a damp day; cutting and miserable.

“He’s here,” Voro growled just as she realized it.

“Eyes sharp,” Raphael contributed.

Claudia was the one to spot him, and at first she thought he’d gotten bigger somehow. But as he drew nearer she wondered who the hell this spawn of evil could have convinced to be his back-up. There were three people down there headed their way.

She squinte
d, wondering what kind of defense plan they had with that particular formation. It made her wonder if more bad guys were about to descend on them from all sides.

Then the sight made no sense at all.

“No,” she muttered, stomach sinking. “No way. Shit. Shit.”

Voro swiveled behind her. “What?”

He saw it too, and the whole group fell quiet, even Saleem, though he likely had no idea what the cause for extra concern was.

“What the hell?” Raphael muttered.

Claudia groaned inwardly. “What are they doing here?”

In front of Praesul, like a walking shield, were Iola and the woman from Vance’s file, the nurse with the apartment steeped in evil stank.

“Shit,” Voro echoed.

Claudia took a deep breath, then looked to Saleem. “Those women are innocents,” she said softly. “One of them is my best friend.”

“Shit,” he joined in.

“Patrice, what are you doing here?” Raphael shouted.

“Raphael -” Voro was muttering in a warning tone.

“I’m sorry,” the nurse cried out, clearly upset and close to tears. “God, Ralph, I’m so sorry.”

“Iola, are you okay?” Claudia couldn’t help herself. Awkward situation or not, she worried about Iola more than anyone else.

“Claudia? What are you doing here? Where’s Vinnie?””

“He’s safe,” she shouted back, opting to only answer the easy question.

“Heart and brain,” Voro reminded them quietly again.

“I found our friends in the apartment building. I think they thought they were headed to a safe place. Isn’t that unfortunate?” Claudia was starting to hate the sound of Praesul’s voice.

“You don’t need them,” Raphael shouted back. “Just let them go.”

“I beg to differ, Raphael. Your little girlfriend and her pal here are a little more than regular human souls, aren’t they? I can almost smell heaven on them.”

“Leave them out of it,” Voro bellowed. “Just let them leave and we’ll get down to it.”

“Hmmm. You know, I have been around since the invention of simple mathematics, Voro. Four against just one doesn’t really bode well for the one all on his own.”

“Shit,” Voro muttered.

“Stop wasting time,” Claudia finally snapped. “Just get the fuck over here so we can send you back where you came from. I’m starting to think you’re nervous or something.”

That made him stop whe
re he was. His anger was like a buffet of air, a sudden strong and warm wind.

“Yeah,” Voro added. “She’s right. You’re kinda holding off here, Praesul. Getting cold feet?”

Praesul pushed between the women, stalking forward. Iola and the nurse, Patrice, intelligently hung back.

Claudia felt her body tighten up as the man in dark clothes started striding to them. He unzipped the sweatshirt, pulled the hood down and dropped the
garment to the floor. His skin was there; thin, cloudy film, just enough to contain the muscle and other vitals underneath. She could see his heartbeat in the arteries under that nearly-clear sheath.

“Holy shit,” she whispered, grip tightening on the blade.

“He’s just ugly, he can still be struck down,” Voro reminded her.

The body that was so nearly completed was big. Strong. Wide shoulders, plenty of muscles under that nearly-translucent wrapping. His innards were black instead of a healthy pink like everyone else.

And his eyes were on hers again while she met the gaze defiantly.
He can still be struck down.

“Stay in formation,” Voro was still coaching. “I don’t trust that he came alone.”

That made Claudia scan the rows of parked cars. But nothing else was stirring, just the freak show headed right to her.

Her knife warmed in her hand all on its own. She set her jaw. This bastard saw her as the weak link in this ring. She was going to correct that assumption pretty fucking fast.

He tried to grab her arm, but with a fluid motion that surprised her a bit she flashed out, cutting across his chest; enough to open that skin and allow a bit of black fluid to roll down his chest to his stomach. But she didn’t stand there watching it, she swung again, but he blocked it this time and used his other hand to strike her across the face while making a satisfied sound as she hit the ground on all fours, blinking away stars.

Holy shit, he was really strong.

“Claudia!” She had no idea who shouted it – Damien or Saleem or maybe both. But she saw the knife and she lunged for it. She heard a scuff on the concrete, rolled to her back as she just missed the handle of the blade.

He was on her, knee planting neatly in her gut. The air was knocked from her painfully but she wasn’t stunned for long. She kicked out, catching his knee with her foot, buckling him over sideways.

In a flash Saleem was on him, only his knife hand being blocked. The left hooks were connecting neatly but they didn’t seem to have a lot of effect.

“Watch out!” Raphael was shouting, a long blade in front of him held comfortably with both hands.

Saleem rolled to the side, bringing Praesul on top of him, holding him upwards the length of his arms. A clean shot to the neck should do it, take his head clear off.

Claudia scooped up her knife, scrambling back to her feet next to Voro. He had the crossbow at the ready but that was really only good for distances. They were too bunched up right now.

Raphael raised the sword like a baseball bat, then released a dangerous swing that came a little close to Claudia and Voro. He pulled her back by the waist, holding her against his chest.

Praesul must have had eyes in the back of his bald head because he rolled Saleem right then, and they both tumbled out of harm’s way. Raphael’s swing took him in a complete circle to no effect.

Saleem cried out. Claudia moved to rush forward, ripping out of Voro’s grasp. Praesul had Saleem pinned, and with one blow she saw Saleem’s eye socket absorb that blackened fist.

Planning and smart decisions be damned; she jumped on Praesul’s black back, wrapping an arm around his windpipe. She wasn’t thinking about killing him like she should have been; she was worried about Saleem, who had gone limp on the ground.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Voro watched Claudia leap on to Praesul’s back, shouting for her to stay but far too late to stop anything from happening. He reached for the only thing he had: his crossbow. If it went right through Praesul she was as good as dead.

Saleem was losing consciousness on the ground. Voro scooped up his janbiya, and Claudia caught the movement. She tightened her grip on Praesul’s neck, pushing downward with her hips and thighs, stretching his torso out wide open, waiting for the blow. Voro held the blade under-handed and readied to strike.

“Voro – wait!”

He knew the voice, of course. He turned to the ramp out of the parking level and saw Essum. Raphael’s girlfriend was crumpled on the ground, breathing, but Essum had an arm wound around Iola’s stomach, the other hand holding a knife to her throat. From thirty yards away he could see that she was terrified, her eyes wide and pleading.

“What are you waiting for? Claudia was snarling then she looked, too.

“Let go of him!” Essum snapped, the sound echoing around them.

“Essum, what the hell are you doing?”

Essum shrugged. “Not my call to make. I’m told to come here and I answer, just like you.”

Voro looked to Claudia, and she very reluctantly released Praesul, who responded by turning around and back-handing her with great force, spinning and knocking her to the ground on all fours. But she got up again.

Voro looked back to Essum. “He’s going to kill you, Essum. You must realize that. Not even you’re that stupid.”

“Like I said, not my choice. Now put those weapons down. Blondie, too.”

Voro looked to Raphael, who was still holding Jehoel’s sword with both hands.

Shit. Future of mankind versus two innocent women. That was a tough one.

“We can’t let him leave here,” Raphael said, voice steady.

“But what about Patrice?”

Raphael cursed under his breath, pretty much summing it all up.

Praesul rushed them, making the choice easier. Raphael swung in a side arc, catching Praesul’s arm. Any other sword wouldn’t have hurt, but this one actually burned into his flesh, making him shriek.

Heavenly relics will do that to a shit-heel like Praesul.

“Stop it!” Essum bellowed again as Praesul turned on Raphael.

“Go get them,” Raphael said. “I’ve got this guy.”

“It doesn’t have to be one of them, you know,” Praesul said around the pain he was obviously feeling. “Essum can kill them both for all I care. It doesn’t have to be the
jinn
or an angel for that matter.” Praesul gave a cold smile. “You will do just fine, Sin Eater.”

Voro actually laughed. “You’ve lost your fucking mind. Sin Eaters don’t have souls. I sure as fuck don’t have one. You might want to rethink Essum getting rid of those two. You might want to tell him to let them go.”

Praesul looked far too amused. “Your soul would be so … interesting, Voro.”

Voro set his jaw again. “I don’t have a soul.”

Praesul tilted his head, bemused beyond measure. “Voro … whoever told you that?”

The world swam and titled. Reality came rushing to him like a vacuum stuck on both ears, blood pounding in his head. Voro had to blink, shake his head.

No, it was impossible. Sin Eaters did not have souls.

And you’re not a Sin Eater anymore,
some inner voice reminded him. He lost that by saving Iola’s life. So now the angels gave him a goddamn soul?

Shit.

Voro was inexplicably pissed now. He didn’t put down the crossbow or knife. He looked to Raphael, who seemed to understand what Voro was wrestling with internally.

“Go get them. I’ll take care of this.”

Voro turned, and began stalking towards Essum and Iola.

Essum had a moment of wondering what the fuck Praesul was talking about. Voro? With a soul? Then the tall and substantially larger man was stalking towards him, head lowered, eyes fixed upward at the two of them. That was a scary face – Essum wasn’t sure he’d ever seen it before.

Was he nuts? Essum had a knife to the throat of his
frustro
, the very reason for his living the way he currently was. He wouldn’t jeopardize her, would he?

Looking at the guy’s face the answer seemed to be yes.

Essum pressed the knife deeper, sensing Iola’s jump from fear to pain and back to fear again. Her fear actually smelled fantastic.

“Stop right there,” Essum snarled, bringing his face close to Iola’s ear.

Voro did stop, but he was still glowering and looked incredibly pissed. Essum would have to get him worried enough to put those weapons down. Praesul was on his own with the depleted angel for the time being.

Essum shoved his face into Iola’s hair, breathing deep. “God, Voro, she does smell fantastic. Does she still smell as good as you remember?” When he said it the woman whimpered, which only made him smile.

“Let her go. She has nothing to do with any of this.”

“She has everything to do with this because she’s here now, isn’t she?” Essum rode his hand higher to her upper abdomen, leaning in to lick her neck. She whimpered again, and Voro shifted on his feet. Essum tightened the knife further.

“Hold it and rethink whatever just went through your mind. Or I will cut her wide open.” He waited, Voro stayed where he was. “Excellent. Now, put the knife and the crossbow down and keep those hands where I can see them.”

After a pause, Voro lowered himself down, set both instruments of death on the ground then stood back up, hands to his sides. “Now what, Essum?”

Essum paused. He took a moment to watch how Praesul was doing with the angel, and even though it was hands against a sword Raphael was having a hell of a time hitting anything important enough to kill the Psionic Vampire. Praesul’s skin was slicked in places with oily blackness, but he was avoiding swings of that sword and delivering a few good shots of his own. Raphael was nearly human after all; he could only last so long like that.

“We wait,” Essum answered. “I’m assuming Praesul knows how this works. If he says you’ll do, then I believe him.”

Voro laughed without much humor. “Look at me, Essum. You think I have a soul?”

“I think you’re different from what you were. And if a soul makes all the difference, I’m more than convinced.”

Voro’s eyes flicked left.  Essum tightened up for a moment then realized the nurse was getting to her feet. He’d knocked her across the back of the head, but apparently his sleep aid had worn off.  Luckily he was wiser now, because seeing her whacked his body out with want. Essum squashed it down, tried to keep his focus. It was difficult since she was cowering from him, and her fear was almost as arousing as the fact that she was his
frustro
.

Footsteps scuffed behind him, and he reached out telepathically to find out what was coming up behind him and a moment of confusion as he realized nothing was there. He realized just then that the only people Sin Eaters couldn’t get a reading on were their own
frustro
s and
decipio
s.

Essum realized what this meant too late – something collapsed against his legs and he rolled backward, taking Iola with him. He heard the nurse cry out, but then he was landing awkwardly half-on, half-off the body behind him, his lower back hitting the concrete in a weird way.  That’s when he knew his plan was a stupid one.

His eyes lost focus. His tongue felt too big for his throat and mouth. The sounds of everything around him stretched out away from him, like he was on the far end of a corridor from where this was all happening. He’d been here once before.

He rolled to his side, curling up. Iola scurried away without hesitation, and the body under him rolled him over. He turned to his back now, unable to make out anything other than the halogen lights overhead.

A head appeared over him, undistinguishable in all ways. But he was willing to bet the eyes were raspberry-red and dull.

“Take off the head,” he heard his nurse say, and the last thing Essum did was reach one hand up to flip them all off.

Raphael took a blow to the elbow; awkward, and it likely hurt Praesul a bit, but it also caused his arm to spasm, the sword clanging out of his hand loudly in the concrete box they were in. Another blow took Raphael down to his hands and knees. He saw crimson fluid dripping to the dirty surface below him, knew it had to be all his own. Praesul’s blood ran black.

Raphael’s left eye was swollen shut and useless. His head felt like a marching band was tuning up inside. All his muscles and bones ached equally. He was beaten to all but a pulp.

He heard metal scrape on stone and knew Praesul was picking up the sword. He looked to the far end of the parkade, trying to find Patrice. If she was the last thing he saw that would be okay with him.

The whole trio at the other end were standing around a body on the ground – Essum. Vinnie stood behind the corpse, sword in hand, a lot like the one Praesul just took from him. Iola, Patrice and Voro were just staring down, almost surprised.

Patrice looked up, and he frowned. Her eyes were different – they looked dark. But she was staring at him now, and as she blinked he could make out the regular bright blue returning. Then she looked scared. For him.

He didn’t want her to watch. He didn’t want her to come down here and help him either. He used a big part of what was left of his energy to shout, “Voro!”

His friend turned. When he recognized what was happening, he grabbed Patrice just as she was about to rush towards them.

He felt relief. He took in her face and felt himself smile in spite of the fact that he was about to leave her for good. She was beautiful, and he could tell she cared about him. That was the best part of all.

He looked down again, took a deep breath as blood continued to trickle from his mouth, and closed his eyes to await the inevitable.

And he waited.

He opened his eyes, wondering what the hell was happening. He looked over his right shoulder, and saw Praesul with arms held high, sword at the ready. Claudia and Saleem each had an arm trapped with hands, forcing his arms back further to the point where he couldn’t lower them. He was bellowing in anger, then his face was still, mouth open in a violent expression of horror. And nothing was really hurting him, but something cause his face to twist like that. All of the hair on Raphael’s arms stood on end.

Something was happening here. All he could do was follow Praesul’s horrified stare across the parkade, back to Voro…

… pegging Praesul with a glare, bringing the crossbow to shoulder-height. He stared into those freaky golden eyes, burrowing deep, completely shocked when he actually broke through.

He was in. Just like the old days when he could dig in to a brain, see a person’s past deeds and find all the filth that had been stowed away inside. Praesul didn’t just have dark and dirty corners in his mind; he was an all-out landfill of nasty intentions. It felt like he could be buried in them if he hung out in there for too long.

Voro swallowed hard. He felt the old urge rise to free all this contained evil, but of course he couldn’t. That was no longer a function of his operating system. But it still called to him, and he felt he had to do something with all of it. Letting it just scatter to possibly come together again in a few more centuries felt like a waste of all this effort.

The impulse came from a new, blossoming part of his psyche that he hadn’t really realized was there. It was brand spanking new, shone like a new penny, and he didn’t even know it was there until that startling moment. He had
to close his eyes against it.

E
vil cannot abide. It must be … forgiven.

At the word there was a strange popping sound, and he opened his eyes again. Claudia and Saleem still struggled to keep Praesul in place, but Praesul had slowed. His face was slackening, his eyes growing wide with their own brand of horror that was pretty fucking scary considering the source. Voro felt things flying past him in all directions, touching and flitting his skin and hair like a flock of small birds. They couldn’t get in. They were getting Hoovered upwards, and he almost imagined he could hear very faint shrieking as they went.

He didn’t pause to wonder what it all meant. He set his sights back along the crossbow, stabilizing it with both hands, and took aim. He released the fancy-schmancy arrow without hesitation, and faster than he expected it crossed the distance between them, embedding itself right in the centre of Praesul’s chest.

From where he was he heard it sizzle, Praesul screamed, and Claudia and Saleem let go quickly as though they’d been burned, wincing from the contact.

It was enough. Praesul flopped forward and Raphael scooted out of the way, watching the body hit face-first, the arrow snapping somewhere inside his reeking body. Voro heard that, too. The arrowhead protruded through the Vampire’s back, black blood clinging to it like something sticky that wouldn’t let go.

Voro’s head hurt. He didn’t know what he’d just done, but he had a feeling it was a big deal.