Saved By Her (Soul Searchers Book 1)

by BE Brouillard

  “My muse,” breathed Arawn. Lilith hadn’t noticed when the great, godlike man had arrived. For all his size, he traveled with surprising silence. Unless Calliope was in state…then, he all but fell over himself in his haste to be near her. They all did.

  “Right!” Cato interrupted the shifting spirits. “What matters of business are we here for today? Are we all assembled?” He glanced around the company. “Imentet. Azazel.” A dark frown furrowed his forehead, and he snapped his fingers impatiently. Two black clouds swirled in their midst and rapidly took shape.

  Imentet. Lilith shuddered. The woman made her skin crawl. Something about the exotic beauty always left a sense of being surrounded by snakes. Even her voice had a hiss that seemed to linger in the air after she had spoken. Thankfully this wasn’t often.

  As if hearing her thoughts, Imentet raised her head and met her gaze, slanted eyes black as onyx. “Yesss…?” she asked, lifting a dark eyebrow. Somehow the simple gesture was laden with disapproval and disdain.

  “We are about to receive a soul,” Cato continued, “we are all required to be here.” His voice brooked no argument, and he leveled his comment as much at Azazel as to Imentet. The man stiffened but said nothing, his eyes glowing like crimson embers, broad forehead sweeping back to a widow’s peak from which his dark hair swept back in a slick wave. Lilith found him as loathsome as Imentet. It didn’t pass her by that the two had been conspicuously absent together. She flicked her gaze away abruptly and addressed the whole group, which had begun to shift and murmur, an undercurrent of agitation building.

  “It is time!” her voice rang out, just as the air seemed to heat and swirl around them, spinning wildly. For a moment, it built to a violent vortex, and then just as suddenly it stopped, as if sucked into a vast vacuum. The Council had gathered into a wide circle, in the center of which a cloud roiled, brightened, and then sparked into a red flame. As the flame grew, a figure began to emerge, first indistinct but growing in clarity until the blaze dissipated, and a man stood where the fire had been.

  For an instant, he stood motionless, and then he spun, arms outstretched at his sides, head whipping around in confusion as he stared at the figures surrounding him.

  “Who are you?” he demanded in a voice that appeared accustomed to commanding respect. His chest heaved as he drew in deep, gasping breaths, as if he’d arrived there at full sprint.

  “Where am I? What am I doing here?” he continued. His skin gleamed beneath a layer of sweat and dirt that streaked his face, his shoulders, his almost bare torso. He was dressed in a short leather tunic; heavy gauntlets shielded his forearms. The leather was blackened with blood. A crimson cloak swirled from his shoulders, tattered and streaked with soot. His head was bare, which seemed to surprise him, and he ran his hands through his sweat-matted hair.

  “What am I doing here?” he repeated.

  “This is Purgatory. You are dead.” Salazar’s words went straight to the point. The man in their midst blinked, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly.

  “How…?” he began and then glanced down. As he stared, a vast, bloody cavity appeared in his chest, extending down to his navel. He gagged, clutched his belly instinctively, blood pulsing through his fingers. He dropped to his knees, staring in horror at his ruined body.

  “Disembowelment is an ugly business,” Jezebel’s dry voice intruded. “We get a lot of that here. As you can imagine, it’s generally fatal.” It was clear she was biting back a chuckle.

  Salazar frowned at her. Taunting newcomers was bad form. “Anaxandridas! King no longer!” His voice boomed. “You have died in battle and are here to be judged.”

  The man blinked in confusion. “In battle? We won the battle. We were victorious! I had returned from the field. We were…” His features clouded. “Ariston!” he said abruptly. “He…he did this! We were brothers in arms, how…” His voice trailed off.

  “Yes, it was he. And others,” Salazar continued. “Your enemies did not exist solely on the battlefield, Anaxandridas. Those men had been plotting against you for years.”

  “But why?” the warrior whispered, sinking back to sit on his heels, shoulders bowing. He dropped his face into his bloody palms. The gore streaked his cheeks when he looked up again. “I was a great king. Why would they kill me?”

  “You were a vile human being, Anaxandridas,” Lilith interjected, finding herself impatient with the man, although his behavior was hardly unusual. So often, the souls of the departed arrived in Purgatory filled with confusion, desperate for answers. “You were selfish and self-absorbed, and you had no care for anything but your own agenda.”

  “That is not true,” he seethed in response, rising to his feet now. “I was a mighty king, a fearless leader, my people worshipped me!” He turned to face her, fists clenched, body braced as if he was about to launch himself at her. Lilith was unmoved.

  “You were a fool. Despised, unloved…” she snorted dismissively, and he bristled.

  “I was loved!” he shot back. “My wives! My sons! Any of them would have laid down their lives for me!”

  “Really, Anaxandridas?” she asked drily. “And what of your daughter?”

  His face went pale. His knees buckled, and for a moment, it looked as if he would sink to the floor again. “She…” his voice trailed off, and then he continued, “That was not my doing.”

  “Was it not, King?” Lilith used the title like a curse. “Was it not your doing that she was chosen to be sacrificed? Your infant child slaughtered by your elders to appease the gods of war?” Lilith felt her bile rise, and she stopped her tirade. The man facing her looked broken.

  “I had no choice. We were losing the battle. The gods demanded it…” His voice was hoarse, barely carried enough weight to give the words form.

  “You bowed to the pressure of your religious leaders to show your people that you would win at all costs,” Salazar took over. There was a rising murmur from the Council. The sound seemed to grow in intensity. “Did your wife share your belief that you were doing the right thing?”

  Anaxandridas covered his face with his hands again, moaning into them. “She…I loved her. Loved them both. She knew that. She stayed by my side until the end.”

  Jezebel interrupted, her voice icy. “As a woman of Sparta, of course she would support you! ‘Return with your shield or upon it’,” she spat. “She’d said those words to you and all of your sons, like scores of Spartan mothers before her. But do you truly believe she would expect her daughter’s fate to be sealed by her own father? It was senseless. It was murder!”

  “The elders demanded it!” he raged back, suddenly animated again.

  “You permitted it!” Jezebel returned, seeming to grow in stature, her lushness replaced by a towering rage. “You could have denied them the option. You had the final say. But you chose to take the route that would make you look like a glorious leader.” She was breathing hard. Like Lilith, Jezebel was always enraged by crimes against children.

  “Anaxandridas, you were a manipulative leader, which ultimately cost you your life,” Salazar smoothly took over. “Your generals were chosen for their political value to you, and for this reason, most were motivated by power. They took it by ending you. That alone would not send you to hell – your world molded you that way. But the girl-child…” he paused, eyes narrowing. “That is a different matter. Many believe it should damn you eternally.”

  The others murmured in agreement, their words simmering and hissing in the air, barely distinct. Seconds ticked by…or was it hours? In the time that dragged by, it seemed that they shared a collective mind, speaking and debating amongst themselves outside of Anaxandridas’ hearing. He shifted uncomfortably, and then Salazar spoke.

  “Today, we judge you because the fate of your soul hangs in the balance. For your crimes against humanity, you should be cursed,” Salazar said. “But we cannot ignore your circumstances. As a child of Sparta, a child destined to rule, you could never have learned anything othe
r than cruelty. It was in your heritage and your upbringing. Some of us have doubts that evil was written into your soul. However, the life of your child can never be forgotten. Therefore, you will be doomed to inhabit Purgatory until you have repaid your debt. An innocent soul must be spared, and you must be the reason for it.”

  Lilith looked as if she wanted to object but thought better of it. Council judgments were taken by a majority decision. While she’d been prepared to fight to send this soul to hell, she had to agree that there was something about him that made her pause. Beneath the bluff and bluster, there was…something.

  He stood silent now, head bowed. She could see that there was remorse there. A chance at redemption – but she still sensed it was remote. The death of the child swayed her against him. Children were…special to her.

  “It’s not going to be easy, Spartan,” Cato spoke now. “There are rules to this realm. You exist in the spirit world now, outside the range of any living creature. You cannot speak to them. You cannot touch them. You cannot alter their paths.” Anaxandridas blinked in confusion – not unusual for a new soul. Most took an age to adjust.

  “Your influence will be in their dreams.” Calliope’s voice was a welcome change from the harsh tones of the others. “You will go to them while they sleep, Anaxandridas. You will warm them and please them…you will have the power to bring pleasure beyond human imagination.”

  The warrior’s mouth dropped open. “I don’t… How…?”

  Lilith didn’t bother to bite back her grin, and Jezebel’s expression mirrored hers.

  “Yes, Spartan, you will have to find a new way,” Lilith said. She couldn’t help herself. “That weapon,” she glanced to his scabbard, “is about to be replaced by another.” She stared pointedly at his crotch. For a moment, the man looked as if he wanted to cover himself. “You’re going to be an incubus – a sex demon – and using those powers, we expect you to save an innocent.”

  Jezebel barked out a laugh and Lilith joined her. Within seconds the pair were doubled with mirth.

  “You’re cruel!” Calliope chastised, but her voice lacked any real edge.

  “Let us see how he fares,” Cato interrupted. “This matter is resolved.” Abruptly he was gone, Marcia blinking out with him. The others swirled for a moment. Azazel shrugged and glanced over at Imentet, who nodded and vanished as quickly as the others had. In moments, the chamber had cleared, except for the Spartan and Salazar.

  “Son, I have faith in you,” Salazar reassured him. “You have a great deal to learn, but if nothing else, you have all the time in the world. And there are thousands here who will guide you.” He smiled.

  Anaxandridas, unaccustomed as he was to being addressed this way, took comfort in it.

  “Thank you,” he murmured. In a flash, he was whisked into a whole new world.

  Chapter One

  Three thousand years later…

  Xander’s head shot up.

  “What the…!” his words stopped short as the sound of tires screeching filled his head. He whirled around, suddenly aware of hard tar beneath his feet, darkness around him. “Where am I?” He spun around, looked straight into the glare of oncoming headlights, instinctively raised his arms up to shield his face. The lights shot past, the car weaving erratically. Xander watched in horror as it shot into the path of another vehicle. A horn blared, the sound of tires screeching again set his teeth on edge. The second car spun out, clipped the curb with two tires, and then flipped over, rolling twice before settling crookedly onto its wheels. For a moment the horn continued to blare, and then stopped abruptly. The silence was almost as deafening as the chaos before.

  “Oh god, oh god, oh god…” a voice babbled from somewhere.

  Xander turned to the sound, watched as a man fumbled with the door of his car, stumbling out as it swung open abruptly. He landed on his knees and puked. The stench of liquor sweetened the air.

  Another noise caught his attention now. A rasping gurgle that he recognized all too well. He’d heard it on the battlefield more times than he cared to remember. Someone was dying.

  Through the shattered windscreen of the other vehicle, he saw the outline of a person in the driver’s seat. The figure wasn’t moving, but he sensed there was still life there. He drew nearer to the driver’s window, saw the bloodied face of the man pinned there, crumpled forward toward the steering wheel. The airbag had deployed, but the roof was so buckled it had crushed him into his seat. Xander got a sense of shattered bones and punctured organs. His head was tilted at an unnatural angle, pink-tinted foam bubbled from his mouth with each wheezing breath. For a moment, he seemed to look straight at Xander, gray eyes strangely clear and calm…and there was clarity. His lips formed around a word.

  “Becka…” He coughed with the sound, the hiss rattled out of his lips as his body tensed and then relaxed, his last breath released in one final, shuddering exhale.

  “Gone,” Xander whispered, and then stepped back as the figure began to glow, rays of light building in intensity until they became blinding. The light gathered into a stream that swirled and then seemed to take shape, forming a bright beam that streamed upwards into the dark sky. For a moment, Xander imagined he could see the form of the man within it, and then as quickly as it had formed, the beam shot upward and disappeared. All was black once more, aside from the flickering headlights of the ruined car.

  “Jesus, oh god…help me…” the other man continued to babble. He stumbled over to the car and stared through the window, his features clouding with horror as he saw the lifeless body in the front seat. He dropped to the floor and vomited again.

  “I don’t think God’s going to help you today,” Xander muttered and swept himself from the scene, completely oblivious to the man’s desperate sobbing.

  ***

  It was unusual to find himself sucked into a situation he hadn’t chosen to get into. Xander set his jaw as he remembered the moment the light left the body. It made him uncomfortable to think that some souls would transition upwards so easily. No shuffling shadows chained themselves to that bright light. The man had a ticket straight to Heaven.

  ‘Unlike me,’ he thought, fighting back the anger. He’d sealed his own fate millennia ago. He shook off a shudder and tried to distract himself by watching the confused antics of a group of newcomers to the group. There was always an acclimatization period after a spirit came to Purgatory.

  “What the fuck are you looking at?” snarled a wiry, tattooed youngster. The kid had taken one too many fists to the head during his MMA career – the blood clot that ended him may have been tiny, but it was the most lethal foe he’d ever faced.

  “Nothing,” Xander muttered, turning away. A strange coiling sensation had taken residence in his belly. For some reason, he felt himself biting back a sense of dread.

  Then it hit him. A wave of emotion so overwhelming he felt as if he’d been kicked in the gut.

  “No!” he gasped, buckling over, his hands covering his face. He shook his head and dropped his hands, palms wet with tears. “What the…?” he said, for the second time today.

  He was standing in a room, the sound of sobbing surrounding him. For a moment, it felt as if the sound was coming from himself. Until he saw her. The slender figure at the center of the room swayed and then crumpled as her knees folded beneath her. He felt the air rush from her lungs as she landed, reached out to her instinctively, the gesture futile, but he couldn’t help himself.

  “Please…please, Ryan!”

  He watched as her fingers uncurled from where they’d held a phone, white-knuckled. It dropped to the floor with a thunk. For a moment, there was silence, and then she groaned, a deep, guttural sound that seemed to come from her belly.

  The groan morphed into a word. “Noooooo…” she took in a shuddering breath then heaved it out. “No. No. Nooooo.” She lowered her face into her hands, fingers threading through her hair as she shook her head. “No. No. Oh god…No…Ryan, please…god…” The words were
punctuated with great, body-wracking sobs. Xander hovered near, desperately wishing he could wrap his arms around her, comfort her somehow. The image of the dying man came to him in a flash.

  Ryan.

  That was Ryan in the crumpled car. And this was… His love. Xander felt the pain of her loss as keenly as if it was his own. The surge of grief shook him so profoundly he was powerless to control it.

  She stooped forward further, her forehead resting on the floor, and he imagined draping a comforting cloak over her shuddering form.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ he tried to tell her, ‘there was nothing I could do…he didn’t suffer…he’s with the angels now…’ He wracked his brain for words to infuse into her thoughts, tried to convince himself that her shuddering might be easing. All those lifetimes of dispensing pleasure had somehow not equipped him to deal with raw pain.

  ‘I’ll stay with you,’ he thought. ‘I’ll get you through this.’

  ***

  “There has been a shift in the energies,” Salazar’s voice rang out, an edge to the usually languid tempo of his words. Although he was tall, he lounged in his seat in a way that said he didn’t need to tower over others to bolster his confidence.

  “It’s the Spartan, Lord Salazar,” replied Lilith, exuding a seething impatience.

  “I’m sure you’re just itching to see the back of him,” Salazaar responded, his words churning a murmur of assent from the others gathered in the cool Hall of Judgement.

  “Pfffft!” Lilith’s snort of derision was openly insolent. “We all know how you feel about this fool,” she snapped, flicking a glossy curl over one ivory shoulder. “How many chances do you expect us to give him before we hand him over to the Dark Lord?”

  “As many as he needs!” Salazar snapped back. “You forget that it is not our duty to condemn them but to guide.”

  “For how long? It’s no secret that you’re counting on saving his black soul so you can take a step closer to your own absolution,” she spat.