Soul Chase (Dark Souls)

by Anne Hope

  But what if they couldn’t? What if the evil inside them ran too deep? What if the only way to satisfy that evil was to harm others—women and children and those too weak to defend themselves?

  Life wasn’t always black and white. The line between right and wrong was as gray as the clouds shrouding the sky. That was the insight she’d gained from years of living in the slums, struggling to outrun the darkness.

  “Why’d he stop?”

  Ralph’s skin had grown gray and ashen. The copper was taking its toll on him quicker than he’d expected. “I’m not sure. All I know is that he made some kind of deal with the Watchers. They didn’t agree with his vigilante ways.”

  Emma frowned. Something about Ralph’s story scratched at the walls of her mind, threatening to reveal a forgotten memory. She reached past the barrier in her head, tried to grasp it, but it slipped through her fingers like fog.

  She sealed her eyes shut, for once welcoming the images, purposely seeking them out. Lightning-quick flashes danced across her lids, red as blood.

  She stood in the subway station, a serrated blade pressed to her windpipe. Three men surrounded her. One of them was leering down at her, his intentions frightfully clear. Clutching her purse to her breasts, she kicked, tried to get away, but that only made the man pinning her to the wall angrier.

  Then a fourth man entered the scene, calm, composed, deadly. “Release her.” The words echoed through Emma’s mind, as clear as the gunshots slicing the stale air.

  Her attacker let her go, and she scampered across the wall, knowing she should run but unable to tear her gaze from the man who’d come to her rescue. She pushed herself harder, delved deeper, and the image grew sharper. She almost saw him, the ghost who haunted her dreams, knew exactly whose face she’d behold when the fog cleared…

  “Emma.” She opened her eyes to find Ralph hovering over her. “Are you all right?”

  She nodded, reluctantly letting the vision go. “I’m fine. Just…thinking.”

  Ralph looked like hell. Sweat clung to his brow, and he could barely stand straight. Any minute now he’d hit the floor.

  “You should get out of here,” she told him.

  This time he didn’t argue. “Maybe you’re right. Might be wise for me to go guard the stairs.”

  She gave him her most reassuring smile. “Sounds like a plan.”

  He began to cross the room, his steps shaky.

  “Can I ask you one last question?”

  Ralph turned around to face her, halting midway to the door. “Sure.”

  “Where did Adrian live, back when he hunted criminals?”

  Drawn features scrunched in reflection. Then he answered, and the ground shifted ever so slightly beneath her feet. “Manhattan, I think.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Hail fell in sheets to obstruct their visibility, but Adrian and the others didn’t back down. Even when the Kleptopsychs raised a wall to protect themselves against the bloody bullets. Even when their enemies knocked the weapons from their grasp and robbed them of their one advantage. Even when the showdown turned into a fierce boxing match.

  Eddie rolled across the pavement, retrieving his Glock and taking a couple of their enemies out. William used a long, thin blade to incapacitate his opponents. Norman opted for his fists, pounding a Kleptopsych into the ground, then shooting him in the head.

  Black smoke carpeted the floor, slowly dissipating in the frigid air, mingling with the fighters’ vaporous breaths. Icy pellets battered them, relentless in their assault. Then lightning tore a white strip across the churning sky.

  The bolt struck a power line and sent it tumbling toward the roof of the dilapidated building. Sparks shot everywhere, and thick, gray smoke filled the already drab day as fire bloomed at the impact site. Fear unraveled within Adrian, colder than the ice hammering his face.

  Emma was inside that building.

  He looked around him at the fallen bodies, realized the Kleptopsychs were all dead, except for the one he had pinned to the ground with a blade pressed to his Adam’s apple.

  “Eddie, the wire. Quick.” He eyed the rooftop, monitoring the blaze. The flames were spreading fast. Urgency swelled inside him. He was running out of time. “Who’s leading you?” he asked the creature he couldn’t release yet, not until Eddie had him safely bound. “Where’s your base?”

  The Kleptopsych’s flesh sizzled where the blade touched it. Pain contorted his features, but he refused to talk. Eddie arrived with the copper spool and hastened to bind their hostage.

  The creature sneered. “You can’t stop her. The lesser races will all die,” he predicted, right before he thrust his neck up and sliced his own throat.

  Adrian stumbled to his feet, disbelief rioting within him.

  “Did he just pull a kamikaze on us?” Eddie’s shock mirrored Adrian’s.

  The hail ceased abruptly, jolting Adrian back to reality. He couldn’t dwell on their failure right now. “I have to get to Emma.”

  Diving into the thickening smoke, he made a beeline for the burning building.

  Something was wrong. Emma sensed it. The clamor of battle had ceased, replaced by a sizzling, chomping sound. A thick, stifling smell swept in to suck the oxygen from the room.

  Smoke. It crept under the door, crawled across the floor, climbed up the copper walls, which now glistened with a greenish hue. How could smoke be green? A toxic substance saturated the atmosphere, and she coughed in an attempt to expel it from her lungs.

  Adrian had told her not to leave the safe room, but these were extenuating circumstances. She couldn’t just wait here to be roasted. Retrieving the pistol from her purse, she darted to the door and gripped the handle, only to recoil in pain. The metal was so hot it seared her flesh.

  Wrapping her jacket around her injured palm, she fought to pry the door open, but the damn thing wouldn’t budge. Something told her the doors in this building weren’t up to code. The heat must’ve melted the hinges.

  Her lungs were on fire. She couldn’t breathe. The air was so foul, it burned like acid. She coughed uncontrollably, yanking at the door, screaming for Ralph. Her senses began to swim, and her legs grew watery.

  Desperate, she aimed the pistol at the door and compressed the trigger. An explosive sound punctured the noxious air, but the shot failed to dislodge the door.

  Emma fought not to cry. She looked around her, but there was no other way out, not even a vent or a window that could grant her escape. The walls began to melt as fire breached their defenses, and the air grew thicker still.

  Dizziness cartwheeled through her, and she sank to her knees, struggling to hold back the blackness. But it slowly edged in, skirting the perimeter of her vision, beckoning her to succumb to it.

  She planted her hands on the floor on either side of her knees, panting, choking on each breath. She’d always wondered if she could die. It looked like she was about to find out.

  The place had gone up like tinder, thanks to poor building standards and months of dry weather. Adrian tore the nearest door off its hinges and plunged into the blaze, swallowing a mouthful of thick, bitter smoke. Smoke that was laced with lethal copper fumes.

  His heart knocked against his ribs. That only meant one thing—the fire had reached the safe room. Picking up his pace, he raced down a burning corridor, as sparks rained down on him and embedded themselves in the fabric of his clothing. His jacket burst into flames, and he peeled it off and tossed it aside.

  Then he sprinted down two flights of stairs toward Emma. He found Ralph lying at the foot of the staircase, knocked out by the poisonous fumes. Coughing to expel the deadly air from his lungs, Adrian plunged deeper into the smoke, leaving Ralph where he’d found him.

  He had to get to Emma before it was too late. She’d told him she healed exceptionally fast, that she was impervious to illness or injury, but what about fire or suffocation? Even his kind could die if deprived of air. Emma was like no one he’d ever met before, and he had no idea wh
at weaknesses plagued her.

  Covering his mouth with his forearm, his lungs contracting violently around the toxic smoke, he reached her door and tugged on the handle.

  It appeared to be stuck.

  Weakness shot through him, stealing his strength and threatening to knock him out the way it had Ralph. The flames circling his feet began feasting on the hem of his pants, slowly climbing up his legs, but he ignored them, too busy laboring to pry the door open.

  “Emma?” The only sound was that of the fire razing through wood, incinerating walls, slowly melting the copper.

  Terror knifed through him, nearly drove him to his knees. “Emma, answer me, damn it.”

  He couldn’t go through this again. Couldn’t lose her. If she died on him a second time, there was no doubt in his mind it would destroy him. She was all he had in the world worth fighting for.

  Adrenaline surged through his veins, chased the weakness from his blood. The door moaned, then broke free from its frame. He heaved it aside and plunged into the smoke-infested room. His vision blurred, and all he saw was an impenetrable green cloud.

  “Emma?” He ventured farther into the murky depths of the copper-clad cell. Some safe room this had turned out to be.

  Her pistol lay forgotten by the door, next to the purse she’d discarded.

  Sweat sprang from his pores, and he fought not to black out. The copper was slowly killing him, its effects even deadlier now that the substance was airborne. If it weren’t for Emma, he would’ve succumbed to it. But he had to keep standing, had to keep fighting. She was counting on him.

  “Please don’t let me go.”

  That plea uttered ages ago still haunted him, kept him going even when he longed to give up.

  “I won’t. Never again.” He wasn’t sure if the words were directed at Emma or Angie’s ghost, but he meant them from the depths of his vagrant soul.

  He pushed past the smoke, squinted and scanned his surroundings as best he could. When he’d inspected every darkened corner, he stumbled back in shock and bewilderment. The room was empty.

  He retreated from the contaminated cell, his mind spinning, concern dueling with relief.

  Where had Emma gone? But more importantly, how the hell had she gotten out?

  She awoke by the side of a winding road, her body stretched across the blacktop, her face turned toward the heavens. In that brief moment when she hovered between unconsciousness and awareness, a man’s unfamiliar face flickered above her. Light haloed his head, blinding in its intensity.

  Peace settled over her, and she was certain she was dreaming.

  “Don’t be afraid,” a disembodied voice whispered. “You’re safe.”

  Emma blinked, and the apparition was gone, the pacifying voice in her head silenced. She rose to a sitting position, the hard pavement digging into her palms.

  A crystal-blue sky stretched above her. The gray clouds had vanished, but a ball of smoke billowed less than a mile away. She recalled being trapped in the safe room while it burned, falling to her knees, struggling to breathe.

  Now she was here, outside, surrounded by gnarled trees and fresh air. She stood on trembling legs, swallowing to wash the hot, aching dryness from her mouth. Her throat felt raw and blistered, her lungs full of sand.

  She searched the deserted landscape for the stranger, saw nothing beyond her own shadow unfurling across the whitewashed street. Chasing the haze from her mind, she began to trek toward the blaze, guided by the smoke spewing into the sky.

  She felt grimy, battered and used. Her skin was covered with black ash, and her hair and clothes smelled like a toxic dump. Coughing to clear her throat, she quickened her pace. What had become of Adrian and the others? Had they survived the battle, the subsequent fire? If the copper-infused smoke had had such a nasty effect on her, what had it done to the Rogues?

  She had to get back to the apartment complex, and fast. Ignoring the fatigue clinging to her, weighing her down, she broke into a run. She panted, inhaling in short bursts of air, feeling her lungs rebel with each breath she forced into them.

  She rounded a corner, and the building—what remained of it—came into view. Smoke belched from the rooftop, flames eating away at the structure.

  Fear clogged her windpipe worse than the thick smoke did. Where was Adrian?

  Ignoring the nasty smell, she ventured into the courtyard. Bodies littered the ground, two of them familiar. Regret blossomed inside her. Adrian had lost two of his Rogues in the battle, but what had become of the others? Had they fled the scene, left her behind?

  Before she could dispel the notion, a figure appeared through the haze. She recognized him at a glance, felt her heart swell and relief sting her eyes.

  Adrian.

  He had Ralph’s arm wrapped around his shoulders and was half-carrying, half-dragging the chaplain out of the building. Both men looked like hell, but Adrian was the worst of the two. His face was blackened by smoke, his dark hair speckled with ash. The fire had taken tiny bites out of his T-shirt and eaten straight through the fabric of his pants, which now hung to his knees.

  He looked drained, raw and beaten, but he was alive. His steps faltered when he saw her, then his pace quickened, as though the mere sight of her infused him with strength.

  Emma couldn’t take the anticipation any longer. Cursing the whimper that clawed its way up her larynx, she ran to meet him.

  Adrian released Ralph—who staggered like a drunk—and bridged the small distance that divided them. Then his arms swept around her, enveloping her, his hands stroking her hair, her neck, her face.

  He didn’t speak, didn’t have to. She knew exactly what he was feeling because she felt it, too. She gulped down a sob, buried her face in his wide chest, felt his heart drum against her cheek, wild and furious.

  “We need to get away from this place.” Ralph’s voice penetrated her thoughts, nothing but a faint echo circling her brain.

  Sirens blared in the distance, fast approaching. Adrian reluctantly released her. “The cars are in the alley.” He guided her to the opposite side of the building. The fire still hadn’t reached this section of the complex, and they were able to make their way to the street behind the building, where Eddie and the others waited.

  Eddie didn’t smile when he saw them. “Thought we’d lost you, too.”

  Apprehension hardened Adrian’s mouth. “Too?”

  “I did a quick inspection after you ran off.” Eddie’s voice was as sullen as his expression, his eyes alight with accusation. “Sheila and Dixon fell. Shot with their own guns, both of them.”

  Twin blades of guilt and pain cleaved Adrian’s features. “I’m sorry, Eddie.”

  Emma’s heart constricted. This was all her fault. She’d put this plan into motion, and two of Adrian’s recruits had lost their lives as a result.

  Eddie ignored the apology. “With all the copper in the air,” he said to Adrian and Ralph, “I didn’t think either of you would make it out of that building alive.”

  The cop’s gaze drifted to Emma, and she didn’t miss the hint of contempt within it. “As for you—” He shook his head. “I don’t know how a human could’ve survived that.”

  Adrian studied her, a quizzical look on his face. “Neither do I.”

  The sirens grew louder, drawing closer.

  “Let’s hit the road before we have some serious damage control to do.” Eddie headed to his car, his large body stiff with tension.

  Ralph, who was in no condition to drive, handed his keys to William. It was a good thing the two Rogues had decided to carpool the previous night.

  One by one, the vehicles shot across the blacktop and disappeared from view, until only Emma and Adrian remained behind. He opened the door for her, scrutinizing her carefully.

  She curled into the seat, exhaustion finally taking its toll. “I’m sorry.” The word tasted bitter on her tongue.

  “For what?” Adrian slid behind the wheel and started the engine, putting the car into gear
.

  “Sheila and Dixon. If I hadn’t suggested setting the Kleptopsychs up—”

  “Don’t go there, Emma. It’s pointless.”

  She bit her lower lip to keep it from trembling. “But they’re dead because of me.”

  “They knew the risks when they agreed to help.” The Tahoe speared forward just as the sirens stopped whining, a sure sign that the fire trucks had reached their destination. “You’re not to blame for this.” I am. She saw the words scrawled across his face as surely as if he’d spoken them.

  “You’re not to blame, either.”

  He pretended not to hear her, abruptly changing the subject. “So are you going to tell me what happened back there? How did you get out of that room?”

  Emma sank deeper into the seat. “Wish I knew.”

  He said nothing, waiting for her to elaborate in that patient, probing way of his.

  “One minute I’m in the room fighting not to pass out, and the next I’m waking up by the side of the road.”

  He slanted a glance her way. “You don’t remember anything?”

  She began to shake her head, then remembered the apparition. “When I came to, for a second I thought I saw someone, a man.”

  “Can you describe him?”

  She tried to picture his face in her mind. “Dark hair, dark eyes, hawkish features. That’s all I remember. I only saw him briefly. It could’ve been my imagination playing tricks on me.”

  Frustration formed deep grooves around his mouth. “Emma, the room was sealed shut. There was no way out. Unless you teleported—”

  “I can’t teleport. I don’t have any supernatural powers, apart from the healing thing.”

  “As far as you know, you don’t.”

  She rubbed the fatigue from her eyes. “What are you saying?”

  His prolonged silence grated on her nerves. Then he spoke, and what he said only served to aggravate her further. “I’m starting to think you may be a Hybrid.”