Soul Chase (Dark Souls)

by Anne Hope

  They were all well aware that Morales would never call, that the second they left he’d pass their number on to the Kleptopsychs, and that was exactly what they were counting on.

  “Now we’re going to walk out of here,” Adrian told the Rogue. “And you’re going to let us.”

  “What if I don’t?” Morales rose to his full height, standing a good head taller than Adrian.

  Adrian wasn’t easily intimidated. He studied the Rogue with a potent mix of menace and irritation. “Do I really have to go over it again?” He met the drug lord’s condescending stare, narrowing the distance between them until they stood nose to nose. “This little arrangement you’ve got going with the Kleptopsychs? I enjoy a similar arrangement with the Watchers. So don’t push me.”

  “Bullshit.” A challenge flared in the dark pits that were Morales’s eyes. “The Watchers would never make a deal with a Rogue.”

  “They would if Cal’s right-hand man happens to be his daddy,” Eddie happily supplied.

  Morales dissected Adrian with his long-lashed stare, as though unsure what to make of him. Abruptly, his expression changed from militant to deferential, and he backed down.

  Emma wasn’t sure what the Rogue had seen on Adrian’s unflinching face, but it had clearly sucked the fight out of him. “Get the hell out of here before I change my mind.”

  “I knew you’d come to see things our way,” Eddie tossed over his shoulder as they headed to the door. “Guy’s not as dumb as he looks,” he added for good measure.

  “Don’t press your luck.” Adrian led the way, his voice a barely audible rasp in the gloom. “We’re not out of the woods yet.”

  They walked into the corridor. Almost on cue, a group of guys with nasty-looking guns closed in on them.

  “Let them go,” Morales called from beyond his office door.

  The guards lowered their weapons, peering at them as they passed. Like Raoul, most were just kids, their bodies covered by so many tattoos she could barely see the color of their skin.

  Sadness swamped her when she thought of the young boy who’d paid the ultimate price. He’d lost not only his life but his soul. The death toll kept rising, and she was at the heart of it.

  “What’s wrong?” Adrian guided them around the corner and down a dark hallway, where the only light came from the red exit signs.

  “That kid, Raoul.” She shook her head. “What Morales did to him—”

  “It’s the life he chose. The life they all chose.” Adrian indicated the guards they’d left behind with a jerk of his head. “If I’ve learned anything in nearly two centuries, it’s that you can’t save them all.” His expression grew grim, weighed down by countless years of experience and regret. “No matter how badly you want to.”

  They walked out onto the deserted street, where their vehicles waited by the curb. Emma inhaled a bolstering breath. The air tasted foul, peppered with grime and pollution, but she welcomed it anyway. “What now?” she asked.

  Adrian placed his palm on her lower back and escorted her to the Tahoe. “Now we go to the building and wait.” He captured her gaze, his expression void of the confidence that had allowed him to stare Morales down. “We just issued the devil a formal invitation. The least we can do is be there to greet him when he comes.”

  The building was similar to the one Morales used to house his drug operation—an open-air complex that offered the cover and isolation they needed to do what they had to do.

  It was apparent that the place hadn’t been inhabited in some time. The air carried a thick, stale smell that made Emma think of death and abandonment. The corridors were dark and dusty, the stairs encrusted with grime, and spiderwebs clung to the yellowing walls.

  Adrian’s Rogues had taken up strategic posts throughout the building, where they could keep watch. The second a threat approached, an alarm would be sounded, and everyone would assume their battle positions. As for Emma, she would be whisked away to the safe room.

  But for the time being, she waited in one of the dilapidated apartments along with Adrian. The scene was sadly familiar. It reminded her of the countless nondescript units she’d inhabited over the years with her mom.

  They’d never stayed anywhere long enough for the place to start to feel like home, had never taken the time to personalize any of the apartments they’d occupied. They’d known they might have to flee at a moment’s notice and hadn’t wanted to leave anything behind that might reveal their identities.

  At the time, it had seemed like the rational thing to do. Now, it just seemed sad. Emma and her mom had essentially become ghosts, floating from one state to the next, never staying anywhere long enough to put down roots. Suddenly that funeral their family had held in their honor felt depressingly appropriate.

  She sat on a lumpy couch in the center of the living room, the only piece of furniture in the unit. “How’d you find this place?” she asked Adrian, who stood guard by the window.

  “I didn’t. Eddie did.” He angled a glance her way. “This building was taken over by the state after a drug raid and hasn’t been used since.”

  She stared at his wide back, noted the stiffness of his posture. His shoulders were squared, his neck tense, his hands balled into fists at his sides. “How long before they get here?”

  “Not sure. Eddie and the others are in position. When the Kleptopsychs approach, we’ll see them.”

  “How?” The apartment complex was situated at the end of a curved road, far removed from the main street.

  Adrian turned away from the window and approached her. “Some of us have the ability to tunnel our vision. Walls aren’t an obstacle for us. If I concentrate, I can see the street leading to this place, even the highway beyond it.” He reached for her hand, his fingers blanketing hers. “Then there’s the dark energy they give out. We’ll feel them before they get anywhere near us.”

  Emma tried to relax, failed. “What if you don’t?”

  “We will. Trust me.” He gave her a reassuring smile. “If you’re still not convinced, keep your eye on the sky.”

  “Why?” She liked the feel of his hand enveloping hers. Warmth invaded her system and filled her with a liquid heat that was oddly comforting.

  “When a large number of Kleptopsychs get together, they can affect the weather. We haven’t had rain in Arizona in weeks. If dark clouds start to gather, it’s a sign that they’re near.”

  Butterflies swarmed her chest. She raised her other hand to his face. The sharp fear of him getting wounded or killed in the impending battle chomped away at her and made her bleed. “Don’t die on me, okay?”

  He grinned, and the butterflies went wild. “I’ll do my best.”

  She brought her forehead to his cheek. He made a sound that was half sigh, half grunt, drawing her against him. Next thing she knew she was on his lap, and he was kissing her.

  His mouth swept across the column of her throat, his fingers burying themselves in her hair, his body cradling hers. Every inch of her skin hummed, coaxed to life by the skillful caress of his hands and mouth. She dissolved in his arms, her heart seized by sweet, aching yearning.

  She couldn’t lose him, couldn’t even think about it.

  Her fingers dug into his shoulders, and she held on to him like a lifeline. Right now, there was nowhere in the world she’d rather be than in this shabby apartment with Adrian wrapped around her.

  Had she felt this way, too? The woman he’d once loved. Had he kissed her with such tenderness, such raw passion tempered by affection?

  Tears stung her eyes, and she clung to him even harder, as though holding him close would make him hers.

  It didn’t matter that he’d loved another. That woman was long gone. Emma was the one he kissed now, the one he wanted. She tasted desire on his tongue, felt the heat emanating from his body.

  In that moment she made a vow to herself. She would make him forget the past, do everything in her power to become his future.

  If they survived the night. />
  He broke the kiss, and she groaned in protest, seeking out his mouth again. Shaking his head, he pushed her off him. “I can’t allow myself to become distracted.”

  She knew he was right, but that didn’t stop the slow glide of disappointment deep in her abdomen. Exhaling long and hard, she covered the dirty couch with her jacket before stretching her body across the spongy cushions.

  Adrian’s gaze swept over her, hot enough to burn. Then he stood and headed to the window again, where he propped his palms on either side of the frame for support.

  She wanted to go to him, to run her palms over his shoulders and down his back, to chase the tension from his limbs. But she didn’t. It was enough simply to watch him, with the feel of his kiss still thrumming on her lips and the scent of him still clinging to her skin.

  “Get some rest,” he said without turning around to look at her. “You’re going to need your strength.”

  An image briefly flashed through her mind, and she was in that darkened theater again, standing next to the plush blue sofa. Adrian’s voice echoed through her mind, gruff and distant. “Why don’t you try to get some rest? We’re going to be here a while.”

  Curling on her side, she squeezed her eyes shut, but the vision persisted. The vision of Adrian standing vigil over her, dark and focused, determined to hold back the shadows.

  But the shadows kept rolling in, undaunted.

  Chapter Twenty

  She woke at dawn to the shrill, mournful sound of an alarm. Before she could chase the haze of sleep from her mind, Adrian came to stand beside her, his expression grimmer than death.

  “We’ve got to move.”

  Emma’s heart clutched. “They’re here?”

  “Not yet. But they will be soon.”

  The wind knocked on the windowpanes, demanding to be let in. In the distance, bloated clouds pooled in the sky, black and menacing.

  Adrian holstered his gun, then sheathed a blade at his waist and another on his ankle. “Take this.” He handed her the purse within which she’d stashed the pistol. “If a Kleptopsych comes anywhere near you, don’t hesitate. Aim the gun and shoot.”

  With a nod, she reached into the purse to make sure the pistol was still there, shuddered at the feel of cold metal against her fingers.

  Briefly, he gripped her by the shoulders. “Whatever you do, whatever you hear, don’t leave the safe room. Understood?”

  This was really happening. In a matter of minutes Adrian and the others would go to war, and she was to blame. Her hand rose to cover her mouth. “What have I done?”

  He gave her a light shake. “We can’t second-guess ourselves now.” He trapped her face between his palms. His warmth seeped into her flesh and made her want to weep. “We can win this battle, Em. We will win.”

  Before she could respond, there was a knock at the door. Then it swung open on moaning hinges, and Ralph entered. “Ready?” The chaplain’s face was drawn, his dirty blond hair mussed as though he’d spent the better part of the night tugging on it.

  Adrian gave a curt nod. “Is everything set up?”

  “Yes. We haven’t left anything to chance.”

  “Good.” His features carved in marble, Adrian dragged her to the door, where Ralph stood patiently. “Take Emma to the safe room.”

  “Wait.” Emma dug in her heels, suddenly terrified that she’d never see him again, that these were the last few seconds she’d ever have with him.

  Adrian’s deadpan expression faltered, and concern flashed in his eyes. “We’re running out of time.”

  She bit her lower lip, then rose onto her toes and kissed him flush on the mouth. He reeled back, shocked by her forwardness, emotion skipping across his face. “Come back to me.” Bittersweet longing gathered beneath her ribs, made heavy by fear and worry. “We’re not done yet.”

  Then Ralph was pulling her away, yanking her out the door and down the stairs. She kept looking over her shoulder at Adrian, convinced that once she lost sight of him he’d disintegrate like one of her visions.

  “Don’t worry,” Ralph said. “I’ll keep you safe.”

  This time when she bit her bottom lip, she tasted blood. “It’s not me I’m worried about.”

  Dark clouds roared and drew closer, threatening rain. Adrian assumed his position in the courtyard, his gaze turned inward, watching the procession of vehicles that approached. Cursing at the sheer number of them, he cocked his gun and waited.

  This was going to get ugly.

  Still, a part of him looked forward to the impending battle. He missed the rush of adrenaline that came from a good fight, the fire that flared deep in his gut when the punches began to fly. Angie may have tamed the beast inside him, but it remained very much alive, lying in wait for the moment it could finally break free.

  Today, he had every intention of setting it loose.

  Tires screeched to a halt, and footsteps pounded the distant pavement.

  “They’re coming,” William whispered.

  Eddie had equipped them all with earphones and lapel microphones so they could communicate the way a SWAT team would. It helped to have connections in law enforcement.

  “Remember, we need one of them alive,” Adrian reminded the others.

  Thunder rent the sky, but no rain fell. He hoped they could get this over with before the clouds cracked open and unleashed their fury.

  He entertained no notion of taking the Kleptopsychs by surprise. Even in the unlikely chance that none of them possessed the ability to see past walls, the bastards would sense the dark energy the Rogues gave out.

  And that was exactly what he and his troops were banking on.

  Eddie’s somber voice boomed through the earpiece. “They know we’re here.”

  Channeling his vision, he saw one of the Kleptopsychs pause as the entrance of the building, then turn toward the courtyard.

  That’s right, you son of a bitch. We’re waiting for you. Come and get us.

  He needed to draw them away from the building—and Emma. A discarded can lay in a forgotten corner of the courtyard, propped against the brick wall. He picked it up and sent it clattering across the cracked tiles.

  The sound had the desired effect. Unsheathing their swords, the Kleptopsychs stormed toward the courtyard, unaware that they were walking into a trap. When their enemies were all safely boxed in, Adrian sprang from his hiding place, ordering the others to do the same. “Now.”

  The Rogues surrounded the Kleptopsychs, guns aimed at their heads, fingers poised on the triggers. Adrian and his troops were outnumbered three to one, but they had a clear advantage over their unsuspecting opponents—bullets soaked in Emma’s blood.

  The battle was sure to draw some attention, but in these parts, where gangs ruled the streets and turf wars broke out every day, the commotion would barely raise an eyebrow. If anyone did report hearing gunshots, the authorities would be slow to respond, afraid of the very streets they were tasked with policing.

  The Kleptopsychs charged, overconfident as usual.

  Heavy pellets of ice began striking the ground seconds before gunfire shattered the newborn day.

  When the first shots rang out, Emma’s blood ran cold.

  The battle had begun.

  She wrapped her arms around herself and pressed her back to the copper-coated wall, feeling like an exotic bird in a gilded cage. Part of her wanted to join the fight, despite the promise she’d made Adrian. It took all her strength to stay put.

  Ralph stood across from her, his pale features pinched with concern, his hand poised on the hilt of a gun that looked totally wrong on him.

  “Are you sure you should be in here?” she asked. “Won’t the copper weaken you?”

  “Eventually.” He kept his gaze trained on the door. “I’m not as susceptible to the stuff as the purebloods.”

  “But you are allergic.”

  “Yes. I can feel the copper’s effects already.” A second bout of gunfire disrupted the eerie quiescence.

>   “Then go. I’ll be okay.” She indicated the door with a jerk of her head. “They need you more than I do.”

  He hesitated. “Adrian told me to watch you.”

  She could’ve sworn he wobbled a little on his feet. “You won’t be any good to me if you pass out.”

  He eyed the exit longingly, then shook his head. “I can handle it.”

  An explosive sigh burst from her lips. “Whatever you say.” She ran her palm over the red-hued metal, and Ralph winced. “So how does a Rogue get to be a chaplain? Isn’t that a sin or something?” If he had no intention of leaving, the least she could do was distract him from his discomfort.

  He shrugged. “Probably. But I figure I’m already damned, so what difference does it make?”

  Emma smiled despite herself.

  Outside, the battle continued to rage. Something hissed and clacked, like ice striking concrete.

  “So what’s it like? Seeing inside people’s heads.” She needed to keep her mind off the fight, and a conversation with Ralph was as good a diversion as any.

  “Ugly. Especially in prison. They call us monsters, but you have no idea the darkness humans are capable of.” He inhaled a shaky breath. “Sometimes I understand why Adrian used to do what he did.”

  This captured her attention, effectively drowning out the not-so-distant clamor of war. “What do you mean? What did he used to do?”

  “Police the streets. He doesn’t like to talk about it. Eddie’s the only one he confides in, but word is he took out criminals and snuffed out their souls.”

  “Isn’t that what you all do now?”

  Ralph gripped the back of his neck, blinked as though to clear his vision. “Not exactly. We don’t willfully kill anyone. We let the justice system take care of that. Adrian took the law into his own hands, willed corrupt humans to kill each other or themselves. He was judge, jury and executioner.” Ralph’s voice rang with admiration and something else—respect.

  Emma wasn’t sure how she felt about this latest revelation. When she was younger, she’d believed no one deserved to be cut down in cold blood. Not if there was a chance they could be redeemed.