Soul Weaver (8 page)
Stiff laughter shook the cherub’s shoulders. “His devotion to the child is noteworthy. That’s what makes him the warrior Delphi covets most. Nathaniel is selfless, loyal.” That remark stung Saul’s pride. “But if you command those he loves, then you command him. It is… his weakness.”
Fresh anger sparked at the reminder that Saul was but a pawn in a greater game on a larger board than he could conceive of. “Why use me?” Must he always be second best? “Why not use Bran?”
More laughter came. “Bran’s loyalty cannot be bought. Yours, however, can.” The cherub shifted to face him but maintained his indifference. “There’s also the fact that your brother fell from grace for you. He loves you. He’s watched you deteriorate, year after year, and it gnaws on his bones. If he thinks for an instant you can be saved, he will leap at the chance without thought.”
“You overestimate his naïveté.” Tonight his eyes had lost that spark when he looked at Saul.
“It makes no difference.” The cherub scowled. “You will continue on as you have been.”
“Nathaniel requested some time off,” Saul pointed out. “I doubt he invites me to join him.”
The cherub made a thoughtful sound. “Interesting. I wonder…” Several moments of silence passed. “Follow him. This might be the chance we’ve waited for. When you aren’t harvesting, you’re tracking Nathaniel. Understand? I want reports nightly, where he goes and who he sees.”
“I will do as you ask.” He had no choice if he wanted to remain on Azrael’s good side.
“See that you do.” The cherub grinned in the vicinity of Saul’s feet. “Soon the gates of Hell will swing open for us. Our time is coming. Accomplish this task and your reward will be great.”
“If I fail?” Nathaniel was more stubborn than Azrael gave him credit for.
“Then you will learn the steps of resurrection through experience.” Zared snarled Azrael’s message. “Your soul is mine. I will not relinquish it, not to Delphi and not through your failure.”
Saul ducked his head to hide the hate burning in his gaze. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“See that you do.” The cherub smiled, and it was a cold thing. “Now, I believe we have one final matter to discuss—your failure to appear at my summons.” He leaned close. “You were in Dis. I smell the sulfur on your clothes. You visited with our creations, then? How do they fare?”
“Soul-lust is riding them hard. They’re rabid, starving.” Zared grinned as Saul said that. “The seraphs think the creatures should be fed more often.” Saul agreed with their assessment. “They also said if conditions in the valley deteriorate much further, they won’t act as wardens. The creatures are antsy. Escape attempts are escalating. It would only take one escape for Delphi—”
“Fine,” Zared hissed. “Alter their feeding schedule. We can’t afford to lose the seraphs.”
“I’ll inform the twins.” Saul clenched his fists. Yet another task left for him to do.
His schedule ran tight enough as it was. He alone could access the soul pits, so that meant he had no choice but to do this job. At least he didn’t have to worry that Delphi or the others might notice a few extra souls gone missing. Saul used pits that had been sealed after the harvester who filled them snapped. Those were checked every few decades, giving him time to cover his thefts.
“You are upset with me.” Zared conveyed Azrael’s amusement. “Anger is fire for the soul.”
“I knew the price of ignoring your summons.” Saul’s skin crawled to think of it.
“Good.” He nodded. “Do you resent me for exacting the cost of insolence from your flesh?”
“No.” Not when Saul tallied every lash, every cut, and every ache.
He vowed Azrael would one day suffer every ounce of pain he’d dealt him.
“Carry on, then.” The cherub waved his hand. “Let the punishment commence.”
Zared licked his lips and Saul knew the cherub had regained control of his body.
His eyes glazed as Saul removed his shirt and pants, headed for the thick wooden post set in stone. He grasped the handles, one to either side, and held on tight. Air stirred as the cherub lit at his side. Zared ran the whip down Saul’s flank. Saul bit his cheek to keep from crying out when the crack of leather split the backs of his thighs open. Blood ran down his legs, pooled at his feet.
All the while, Saul counted. He let his mind drift to that dreamy place where Mairi was alive. She’d tend his wounds, kiss his mouth, tasting of paradise. His love for her tightened his chest.
Too soon, the cherub fisted Saul’s hair and ripped his head backward so their gazes locked.
Zared was panting; his hands trembled. “Thanks for that.” This time, his voice was his own.
“My… pleasure,” Saul said through gritted teeth.
Leather tickled his side. “No.” Zared dropped the whip with reluctance. “But it was mine.”
Saul rested his forehead against the whipping post, and who but an angel too long gone from Earth would conjure one? Slowly the haze subsided, leaving him the agony of his shredded skin.
“You may go now.” Zared’s voice was once again deep, rumbling, Azrael’s.
Glancing toward the rock, Saul winced. The cherub turned its back. The angel didn’t move.
Saul wasn’t sure if he
could
move. All those chains kept Azrael’s wings locked against his spine. His arms were bound against his sides and his feet were shackled. A cloth sack covered his head, and thick rope gagged him, stuffing the coarse fabric in his mouth. Since the angel used a proxy, Saul couldn’t place his voice. With Azrael’s head in a bag, Saul couldn’t place his face, either.
He had only Zared’s word that the captive angel was Azrael, but it hadn’t mattered to Saul at the time. Only that the angel knew the secrets to life and to death that Saul had failed to uncover.
Pain faded. It always did. Wasn’t Mairi’s freedom worth a little pain? Yes. It was.
She was worth all of this and so much more. She was worth anything, everything.
Chloe couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling of being watched. It started in after she opened the store this morning and the sensation hadn’t let up yet. Glancing around, no customers picked through the sales rack or milled around her. No one paid her any attention at all, to her relief.
A shiver worked its way down her spine. Her imagination did enjoy playing tricks on her.
Last night should have left her rested and relaxed. Two dreamless nights in row, no nightmare man in sight, it should have been heaven. Instead, so much sleep made her anxious.
Shrugging off the uncomfortable sensation, she went in search of Neve and found her bent over by a pair of armchairs. When Neve straightened, Chloe spotted a dark leather wallet in her hand. Much too chunky for a woman’s, it must belong to the young man she’d noticed reading in that spot earlier.
Her stomach dropped when Neve cracked it open, thumbed through the contents, and made a withdrawal. Before all Chloe’s insecurities could escalate, she saw Neve snap the wallet shut, then head for the register. Neve stuck the wallet in the back of the cash drawer, then held up a card and dialed a number. She was all smiles and warm laughter while on the phone. She even patted the register before she ended the call. Without hearing a word, Neve’s message was clear. The wallet was safe and ready for pickup whenever the owner could manage it.
Chloe exhaled on a sharp breath full of relief… and a smidge of guilt. Trust had been as easy as breathing when her parents were alive. Now she struggled with the concept. She’d never really had to protect herself or judge another person’s trustworthiness all on her own. Without Mom’s prodding questions or Dad’s silent observations, Chloe felt out of her emotional depth.
Neve caught her staring and waved, no doubt uncertain why she was the center of her attention. Chloe waved back, content everything was as it should be. Then she hefted a box of new arrivals from the storage room and lugged it to the sales floor. The oversized travel books were backbreakers. And the hefty titles never failed to belong on the top shelf.
After a quick check of the author names at nose level, she rose on her tiptoes and tapped her way down the spines until she found the letter she was looking for on the second shelf down.
“I was wondering if you could help me,” a deep voice asked from over her shoulder.
“What the—” She jumped and then turned toward the unexpected sound. Her shoe caught the box’s edge and she tripped. Hands thrown out, she braced for impact. Instead, she got a handful of man as the customer caught her against his chest. Her palms slapped his shoulders, fingers bunched in the flannel of his shirt. She gasped as his hold squeezed the air from her lungs.
“Are you all right?” His full lips twitched into a hesitant smile.
Chloe’s mouth ran dry. The reply perched on the tip of her tongue? Gone.
Their gazes locked. “I’m fine.” She had never seen eyes like his before. They were a brilliant shade of blue, as clear as the Caribbean waters featured in the books at her feet.
His eyes crinkled at the corners while she stared, dumbfounded, right into them.
He probably knew from experience women had trouble talking when he looked at them that way.
She hissed as a sudden headache made her vision waver from pain.
I need some aspirin.
“Would your friend have something you could take?” His large hands rubbed circles against her lower back.
“I don’t know.” She rubbed her temples. “I have some in my office.” Her head snapped up. Had she said that first part out loud? Her skull throbbed as the cascading discomfort built.
He dropped his arms and the terrible bubble of pressure burst, ringing through her ears.
“You look pale,” he said. “Do you need help getting up?”
What did he mean up? Chloe glanced around. When had they sat on the floor? And…
oh snap
… what was she doing sprawled across his lap?
She scrambled across the hardwood planks and leaned her back against a bookshelf while he chuckled softly at her expense. Unfortunately, the ground didn’t do anything helpful, like open up and swallow her whole.
“I’m looking for Chloe McCrea.” His leg bent while he waited for her answer.
Trying not to choke on her tongue, she replied, “I’m Chloe.” His broad hand appeared in her field of vision. She took it and he pulled her to her feet. “What can I help you with? Are you looking for a particular title or author?”
“No.” His smile made her insides quiver. “I’m looking for you, in particular.”
She hadn’t realized they still held hands until he pumped her arm as he introduced himself. “I’m Nathaniel Berwyn, with Handel’s Handymen. I noticed the porch out front could use some work, and I thought I’d offer my services.”
The size of his hand wrapped around hers distracted her. “I, ah, appreciate the offer, but I don’t think I’m in the market for repairs at this time.”
He tipped her chin up so their gazes collided. “Are you certain I can’t change your mind?”
His thumbs were at it again, smoothing over her cheek with easy familiarity that really should bother her. She was sure it would. Any minute now.
When dots swam in her vision, she realized she hadn’t taken a breath since their gazes met. “No?” With doubt thick in her voice, she wasn’t surprised when he pounced on her indecision.
“What if I make you a deal?”
Chloe found herself leaning forward into his touch as his hand slid away. No longer distracted by the coarse texture of his fingers, she shook the cobwebs from her thoughts. The store did need work, but she had skipped the contractor in favor of hiring Neve since one could wait and the other had waited long enough. Still, she wondered at his offer. “What kind of deal?”
“I’ll write up an estimate and we’ll negotiate terms.”
She frowned. “That’s not a deal; that’s standard practice.”
“I’ll cover the up-front costs. I’ll do the work and let you approve it before accepting payment.”
His offer wasn’t too far off base from what other contractors had done for her. Usually, it was a half-now-and-half-later kind of deal. If he was willing to cover the cost, then he was offering a solid guarantee on his work. She respected that. She also recognized the company’s name. Handel’s was a local company, so Nathaniel’s boss was a phone call away if he gave her any trouble.
“If I’m not pleased with the quality of work completed?” she asked.
“Then I won’t charge you a dime.”
“Can I get that in writing?”
“Of course.” Nathaniel’s smile said she was hooked and he knew it. “Would you like me to start with the estimate first? See where we go from there?”
“Sounds like a plan. I’d like to know what kind of expense I’m looking at.” She risked a smile. “Well, assuming your work is up to par.”
His answering grin made her heart stutter. He turned and walked toward the door, then pulled a pencil and pen from his back jeans pocket. She bit her lip as she took in the view.
A week ago, she would have tossed him out on his mighty fine assets. Heck, two days ago she would have spun him on his heels and watched him walk away. Grinning, she admitted she would have enjoyed every step of it too. So why was today any different?
Maybe having Neve around made the difference. She wasn’t alone anymore. Funny how that made her heart lighter just thinking it.
How had she gone from
no thanks
to
what harm could a look-see do
?
Nathaniel glanced over his shoulder at the last minute and caught her looking. That right there was the harm in a look-see. She’d looked, and he’d seen her do it.
Her cheeks tingled with embarrassment while his eyes glimmered with what had to be amusement.
Way to go, Chloe
, she chided herself. She’d seen more handsome men before, probably. Though this was the first time a stranger had walked in off the street, given her a sinful smile designed to curve his full lips to perfection, and made her melt at his feet.
His touch made her want to curl up in his lap while he stroked those long fingers of his through her hair. She couldn’t stop from walking to the window and staring out after him.
But my, oh my, what a view.