by Anne Hope
He was grateful for the act of kindness, despite her grumblings. “Thanks.”
She sat on the corner of the bed, staring down at Emma, worry carving deep gashes in her face. “Still no change?”
He shook his head, his throat too thick with regret to allow any words to escape.
Tina closed her eyes and sighed. “Once, when she was little, I lost her,” she admitted ruefully. “We were living in this rundown shack in Florida, right next to a lake. More of a swamp, if you ask me. Anyway, it was summer and the humidity was as thick as mud. I woke up one morning drenched in sweat because we didn’t have the benefit of air-conditioning, and Emma was gone. I searched everywhere—the house, the yard. I can’t begin to describe the sheer terror I felt. I was sure they got her, the creatures you call the Kleptopsychs, that they’d taken my baby from me and that I’d never see her again.” Her voice cracked at the memory.
“What happened?”
A nostalgic smile ghosted over her lips. “She got restless and decided to go for a walk. I found her by the lake, engaged in a staring competition with an alligator.”
A harsh laugh blasted from his chest. “And she keeps calling herself a coward.”
The amusement faded from Tina’s face. “Emma may have Angelica’s soul, but she wasn’t brought up the same way. Angelica went to the best schools, had all the comforts money could buy. Not only that, but she shared her father’s idealism. She believed one person had the power to change the world.” She chuckled mirthlessly. “It used to drive me crazy.”
She paused long enough to brush a wayward strand of hair from Emma’s forehead. “Emma wasn’t as lucky. She grew up on the run, constantly looking over her shoulder, always feeling hunted. She saw death and devastation and ugliness. Eventually, she grew to feel helpless and powerless.”
Her steely gaze captured his, and he noted an undercurrent of strength he hadn’t known the woman possessed. Christina Russo was as different from Tina Paxton as Emma was from Angie. He saw that now. Time and circumstance had changed them both. “She doesn’t realize how special she is. But you do, don’t you?”
“Yes.” The word barely made it past the fist clutching his windpipe.
“Then don’t give up on her. She’ll come back to us.”
“How can you be so sure?”
Tina’s expression grew distant and hazy. “Emma would never walk away from someone she loves, and I can see she loves you.” He could tell how much it pained her to admit it. “Just as I can see you love her.” Her gaze sharpened again. “I’ve never thought much of you. I think I’ve made that pretty clear.”
“Crystal.” Resentment roughened his voice.
“But I’m glad she’s got you.” The admission stunned him stupid, and all he could do was aim a disbelieving stare the woman’s way. “At least now I know there’s someone else looking out for her. You’ll always look out for her, won’t you?”
“Always. I’ll guard her with my life.”
The fight seeped out of her to be replaced by relief. It seemed a heavy weight had been lifted from her shoulders. “That’s all I needed to hear.”
Emma stood on the bank of Turtle Pond, staring at the rippling water, enjoying the cool kiss of the breeze as multihued leaves rained down on her. She’d always loved Central Park in the fall. Everything was so colorful and beautiful around this time of year.
A turtle popped its head out of its mossy shell, and she laughed. Unfamiliar peace settled over her, like a warm coat on a cold day. She could’ve stayed here forever watching the water tremble and the leaves dance. The past and the future ceased to exist. All that mattered was this one uplifting moment of solitude.
A moment that was shattered by the sudden appearance of a man. He came to stand beside her, staring at the pond as she did, his demeanor calm and unhurried. “You shouldn’t be here,” he admonished gently.
“Why not? It’s a beautiful day.” She tasted the sweetness of roasting nuts on the breeze. “And I feel safe here.”
“Perhaps. But you cannot fulfill your purpose by staying safe. Life itself is a risk, as is love.”
“So you’re an expert on love, are you?”
“Not particularly. But I know that it drives humanity. Love is what allows the meekest of God’s creatures to achieve the greatest of things.”
She finally looked at him, took in his dark eyes and hawkish features. “I know you.” His was the face she’d seen when she’d awakened by the side of the road in Maryvale.
“Yes. I am Micah, angel of divine intervention.”
“Micah? As in my father?” This couldn’t be real, he couldn’t be real. She was trapped in a dream. Why then did she feel the warmth emanating from his body as surely as if he were standing beside her?
“I prefer to think of myself as your creator. But yes, that is the term humans would use to describe our bond.”
“How did you find me?” She didn’t know how she’d gotten here, let alone how to leave this place. But Micah had tracked her down.
“I’m always with you.”
“You pulled me from the fire.”
Light pulsed off him, softening the hard edge of his chin, the sharp slant of his cheekbones. “It wasn’t your time to go.”
“And now? Is it my time to go?”
He shrugged, staring vacantly ahead. “That is entirely up to you. You have a choice to make. You can remain here in this place of refuge, where nothing ever changes and no harm will ever come to you. Or you can return and face your destiny.”
Her pulse rippled like the water. “I don’t know how to get back.”
“Yes you do.” He touched an insubstantial finger to her forehead. “You simply need to will it to happen.”
“How did I get here?”
Micah picked a fleck of lint from his long, black trench coat. “Have you ever heard of astral projection?” He didn’t wait for her response. “Sometimes, when a person is frightened or distressed, they project their soul to the place they feel most safe.” He indicated their surroundings. “This is that place for you.”
“And I can stay here if I want?” He gave a brisk nod, and Emma wet her lips. “What happens if I do?”
The unperturbed mask he wore belied the gravity of the words he spoke next. “A great flood will come and wipe out everyone you know and love.”
“When you put it that way, it’s not much of a choice, is it?”
“There’s always a choice.”
Everyone kept talking about this great flood, but nobody bothered to explain what she was expected to do about it. “How do I stop it?”
“By fulfilling your destiny and destroying she who now rules the Kleptopsychs. She will come for you soon, and you will have an important decision to make.” He picked up a rock and flung it in the pond, making the water pop. “The choice you make in that split second will affect the outcome of the future.”
Emma’s heart plunked to her toes. “Try not to go so easy on me.” Some girls’ fathers expected them to go to an Ivy League school. Hers expected her to save the world.
He didn’t seem to get the joke. Emma closed her eyes and filled her lungs with sweet-smelling air. “So what’s this decision I’m going to have to make? And who is the woman I’m supposed to ice? Kora?”
She opened her eyes and turned to look at him, but Micah had vanished, leaving her alone with her shadow.
In the deepest recesses of the earth, shadows ruled. Diane stalked through her new lab, now nestled in a remote corner of the catacombs. Mist curled around her feet, the air smelled of mildew and sulfur, and intricately carved columns held up a low ceiling.
She smiled. It was good to be home.
Fearing the bunker in Nevada was vulnerable to discovery, she’d had the equipment and the embryos moved here a few days ago, where Kora had reassured her their operation would be safe. If Diane had learned anything from Kyros, it was not to stay in one location for too long.
The catacombs were ideal, far removed
from society and hidden from prying eyes. Over the years, she’d seen many a friend and foe brought down by nothing more than a wagging tongue. The place was still connected to the bunker in the Nevada desert by a secret tunnel only she and a select few knew about. This passage would provide her with a quick escape route should the Watchers attack, while remaining virtually invisible to the intruders.
She had to hand it to Kora—the woman was not only shrewd but resourceful.
Diane checked on the progress of her latest batch of embryos, paying particular interest to the biggest of the bunch, the one that had survived the longest so far. It still didn’t show signs of a soul, but it was alive, and that both pleased and encouraged her.
Satisfied with the progress, she left the lab and went to inspect the extraction chamber. The walls had been coated with the same blue metal alloy that lined the capsules attached to the giant sphere, within which energy pulsated and glowed. Kyros had had this alloy specially designed for this particular purpose. It kept energy from escaping, and therefore allowed souls to be harvested and stored.
Five humans currently lay trapped within the capsules, slowly being drained of their life-forces. A similar fate awaited Emma once the Kleptopsychs got their hands on her. The problem was, the woman was about as slippery as an eel. Every time they came close to apprehending her, she slithered from their grasp.
Diane’s latest ploy to use Emma’s mother as bait had backfired. Realizing the prisoner would die as soon as break, Diane had had the ingenious idea of releasing the old bat, thinking she’d head straight for her daughter or that her daughter would head straight for her.
Instead, mere days ago, the mother had gone missing from the hospital where she was being treated for pneumonia. The Kleptopsychs standing guard outside her room had vanished as well, leaving no clue as to what had transpired.
And that in itself was a clue. Only the Watchers could’ve covered their tracks so effectively, which meant they were closing in on her operation. So Diane had moved her lab, keeping the bunker as a decoy.
Frustrated by the setback, feeling depleted by this unfortunate turn of events, she headed to the soul extractor for a quick boost. Opening the hatch, she took a long drag and savored its effect. Energy spiraled through her, heightened her senses and infused her blood with a badly needed dose of adrenaline. A medley of conflicting emotions assaulted her—anticipation, excitement, hatred. She welcomed them all.
The Hybrids would pay for what they’d done to her. She would crush them like bugs, then drown them along with the humans. What pleased her most was that the Watchers would never see it coming.
Her entire existence, people had underestimated her. To Athanatos, she’d been nothing more than a pleasant diversion. To Kyros, she’d been a necessary evil, a nuisance to be endured. As for the Watchers, they saw her as the weak-willed accomplice, the pathetic sidekick, not as the fierce leader she’d become. And that would work to her advantage.
Fueled by this knowledge, high on the mouthful of souls she’d ingested, she returned to the bunker via the secret tunnel and headed to her small office, located between the prison cells and her now-vacated lab.
Kora was there again, sitting in Diane’s chair, her feet propped on the desk. “Where have you been?”
“At the lab. What’s it to you?” Diane crossed her arms and tapped her foot on the concrete floor, letting Kora know in no uncertain terms that she was the head of this little operation. The firstborn had no right to question her, let alone use that tone with her.
Kora failed to take the hint. “Sampling the goods again?”
She resented the accusation, even though it happened to be true. “Like I said, what’s it to you?”
Kora stood and circled the desk, her aristocratic chin raised defiantly as she came to stand nose to nose with Diane. “Let’s not play games, shall we? Not now when we’re so close to achieving our goal. New information has come to light.”
Curiosity crowded out indignation. “What kind of information?”
“Our contact in Maryvale called. Apparently, there was someone there who wanted to strike a bargain with us.”
“Who?”
“That’s not important. What’s important is what he told me. It took several days of negotiating, but I finally got him to spill the beans, as you Americans would say.” Kora paused for effect. “I know where my son’s hiding the girl.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
As much as he appreciated Tina’s effort to feed him, Adrian didn’t touch the food she’d brought him. Grief and worry worked hand in hand to tighten the band around his abdomen, reducing his stomach to a hard mass of nerves. He couldn’t eat. Couldn’t even think about it.
He ran a weary palm over his face and expelled a mouthful of air. How long would Emma remain unresponsive? Why wasn’t she waking up, and why did she refuse to grant him access to her mind? If he could penetrate the fog shrouding her thoughts, he might be able to convince her to return to him.
His head felt heavy, weighed down by exhaustion. He hadn’t slept in days, and with Emma’s soul so far removed from him, he wasn’t replenishing his energy as quickly as usual. That old hunger to hit the streets and fill the gap in his chest reared within him, but he tamped it down. He’d as soon die than feed again. He wasn’t that man anymore. He understood that now. For years he’d feared reverting to his old self, had hidden away from society to keep temptation at bay.
But in this moment of weakness, of grief and despair, he realized the Rogue within him was dead and buried. His humanity was all he had left, and he clung to it. Clung to the light, to the hope it provided.
Lowering his head, he let his cheek rest beneath her breasts, where her heart thumped in a slow, steady rhythm. He closed his eyes, reassured by the strong cadence of her heartbeat. As long as life pulsed through her veins, there was a chance she’d snap out of whatever trance she’d fallen into. That knowledge was all that prevented the darkness from swallowing him.
Fatigue clawed at him, a black veil that fringed the perimeter of his vision. He pushed it back, labored to stay conscious even as he longed to find refuge in sleep. Shadows swayed and merged, then stretched out to blanket him. He made one last valiant attempt to ward them off before exhaustion finally won out.
A soft touch. A feathering caress. A familiar voice pulling him from the darkness and into the light. Adrian’s eyes fluttered open.
It was a dream. It had to be. Then he remembered his kind didn’t dream.
Gentle fingers stroked his hair. He straightened his back, his gaze seeking out Emma’s face. She was awake, smiling at him. For one choked breath, he couldn’t speak. He didn’t know whether to cry out with joy or shake the stupor from his brain.
“So now I’m a pillow?” she quipped. “Is this your way of telling me I’ve gone soft around the middle?”
Just hearing her voice again was enough to unravel him.
Emma pushed herself up in bed and slowly took in her surroundings. “What happened?”
“I don’t know.” His voice sounded foreign to his ears, low and gruff, like sandpaper sliding across velvet. “You’ve been out cold for three days.”
“That long? To me, it was just a walk in the park.”
He had no idea what she was talking about. Was this another attempt at a joke? “Where did you go, Emma?”
A broad smile brightened her face. “Manhattan.” Her hand sought out his, and she gave his fingers an affectionate squeeze. “I remember.” Her heartbeat sped up, hammering her ribs. He could hear it. “I remember everything.”
She released his hand and cradled his face. “I remember being Angie. I remember meeting you and falling in love with you. I remember the first time we made love in the subway tunnels, and everything that came after—Kyros, the bridge, the way you jumped in the East River after me.” Her features softened, her tone resonating with tenderness and a hint of awe. “The way you loved me.”
He still couldn’t find his voice to sp
eak, so he kissed her.
In that moment when their mouths tangled and merged, he forgot all the pain he’d endured. He forgot his worry and fatigue and the countless hours he’d spent praying to a god he wasn’t sure was listening.
He kissed her eyelids, her cheeks, the curve of her chin. He drank from her mouth, felt renewed energy vibrate inside him and strengthen him. Even then, it wasn’t enough. He needed to kiss her deeper, to breathe her in and keep her from escaping him again. Angling her head, he explored the inside of her mouth, savoring the sweetness of her.
She gripped him by the shoulders and exhaled on a sigh, going limp against him. He pulled her closer, meshed his fingers in her hair, swamped his senses with her. She tasted like honey and cloves and everything that was missing inside him. He felt parched, desperate to quench a thirst that refused to be sated.
When they finally pulled apart, they were both shaking. “Now that’s what I call a greeting.” She buried her face in his neck. “I should take a trip down memory lane more often.”
He tightened his grip on her in automatic response. “Only if you want to kill me.”
She moved a few inches back to assess him. Running her fingers through his unkempt hair, she gave him a sheepish grin. “You do look like hell.”
A low chuckle vibrated in his chest. “So I’ve been told.”
“You actually saw him?” Christina leaned forward on the couch, her shoulders taut with unease. “You saw Micah? What did he say?”
Emma took a hearty sip of her coffee. Both Adrian and her mom had been bending over backwards since she’d regained consciousness, determined to cater to her every whim. The mug of coffee was the latest in a string of attempts to replenish her strength. “Nothing we don’t already know. I’ve got to destroy the Kleptopsychs’ new leader to prevent some great flood.”
“Did he tell you how?” Adrian stood by the fireplace, his arm propped on the mantelpiece.