Soulless (Maiden of Time Book 2)

by Crystal Collier

  Lester harrumphed. She blinked up at him, standing a few paces back, scowling. He kicked at the forest shrubbery, rubbing his neck. Ethel stood beside him, both her hands clasped tight together, brows high in worry.

  Alexia’s entire body heated. She pushed Kiren back, but he caught her face, cradling it, rubbing her blazing cheeks, eyes consuming her in the pressing waves. They choked out all but the heat of his flesh pressed to hers, and a deepening need so vast it made the ocean feel small.

  She smiled at him in confusion. He pressed his mouth to hers, bruising her, parting her lips.

  She gasped. This was no innocent thing, but a kiss meant only to happen behind closed doors. She wanted to stop him, too aware of their audience, but he delved deeper and suddenly she no longer cared. She wrapped herself around him, fingers gliding up into his hair. The tension eased out of his shoulders as he rounded into her, pressing her closer.

  He pulled away. Bright red smears stained the ivory embroidery of his suit coat and frock.

  Her fingers flew to her neck. She drew a hand down her neck and bodice, horrified by the sticky dampness on her fingers, her wedding dress ruined, her very life almost...

  Alexia turned her head. She couldn’t face him, not in light of what had just transpired. “The pendant...” she whispered through a raw throat.

  He caught her cheeks, turning her to him.

  She focused on his ruined shirt, searching with her fingers for the chain that should be hidden there. No metal links bulged beneath his soiled vest. She bit back a cry. “What have you done?”

  Kiren traced Alexia’s jaw, mouth stretched tight in a frown.

  She grabbed his hand and turned it over, her own blood glistening across his palm. “This is my doing—”

  He lifted her to her feet, his breath hot across her cheek, lips tight and angry. They parted, and she expected chastisement, but he closed them again. His eyes softened into a starry night sky so tender, she was afloat. “No worries, love. Everything will be set aright.”

  She was grateful for the words, but her heart swelled with guilt. It was only because of her he was in this position. If she had been strong enough to do something more than stop time...

  And what of the others they’d abandoned? “Father. Where is Father?”

  “Safe in Nelly’s care,” Lester growled.

  “We are best on a quick offensive.” Ethel’s fingers writhed together. “They are only a few miles out.”

  “You have an army in yer pocket?” Lester’s head shook. “We ain’t so invincible as before. We should bring in Elizabeth North and Mi—”

  “Agreed.” Kiren lifted a hand. “And if Elizabeth proves stubborn, remind her that she owes me a life debt.”

  Lester saluted. “On my way.”

  “Ethel, you will assist Lester.” Kiren met the woman’s stare.

  “Of course.” She dipped in a shallow curtsy before swirling into a cyclone of mist and disappearing.

  Alexia took a deep breath, raking at the rawness of her airway. “This is because of me. I will help you retrieve the medallion, no matter the cost.”

  He crossed his arms.

  She grabbed his shoulders. “I will not be your weakness. Do you understand me?” She shook him. “Either you will utilize my strengths, or—” Or what? She was far too weak to be of help to anyone. It would be best if she had never come into his life, never unmasked this vulnerability. She hated what had happened to him—to all of the Passionate—because she had been vain enough, foolish enough to embrace these desires. Had he ever been so vulnerable before his enemies? Had the Passionate ever been so vulnerable before the Soulless? She squared herself. “Or I shall banish myself from you.”

  He looked away. “We have much ground to cover.”

  “Kiren.”

  He took both her hands and leaned down so their eyes were level, his burning. “You are to be my wife. Do you understand that?”

  Her heart sped. His wife. She would belong to him, and solely him.

  “No wishing, no silly thoughts of separation are going to change that—nor do I wish it so. You are the only thing I cannot lose, and the one thing they will target.” He bit his lip. “Already I have failed you.”

  She shook her head, reaching for his cheek.

  He drew a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped it across her neck. “It seems I condemn everything I care about.”

  “Kiren, stop.” She grabbed his wrist. He met her gaze, his eyes startlingly vulnerable. “I will be your wife.” She smiled with all the joy she had experienced but an hour ago.

  Crashing pulled her around. Kiren’s silvery stallion darted between trees, Edward low on its back.

  Alexia laid her head against Kiren’s shoulder. “You have not failed me. You saved my life, and I am only sorry I could not be strong when you needed me to be.”

  Kiren’s arms wrapped around her, lips tickling her ear.

  The horse skidded to a halt, tearing moss, prancing back a step or two and throwing its ivory mane. Edward dropped out of the saddle and handed the reins over. Kiren retrieved her sword, the very blade still stained in her blood, and aided Alexia onto the beast. He nodded a farewell to Edward, and mounted behind Alexia.

  Twenty

  Success

  Amos pulled back the canvas and shivered. Energy pulsed off the metal, stinging his chin like the icy rays of a polar sun. He squinted, eyes watering. Even dimmed as they were by the ages, the power burned.

  Hissing voices echoed through the cave, reminding him of those waiting. Nervous chatter.

  Carefully, he rewrapped the prize, binding it shut with twine. Its buzz carried through the heavy canvas and rattled into his frame. Even with the stability of his many centuries, the bones of his fingers clicked while pulling at the string.

  How many hundred years had they sought this prize? He’d succeeded. He was the only one who could claim victory, even if he had to admit the aid of a Passionate traitor, the child who had directed him to their point of ambush, the girl who strangely did not fear him.

  He carefully laid the treasure atop two similar wrappings inside a satchel, decoys. Four other bags sat by, filled and ready with similar counterfeits. They would detain the factions of the Passionate, leading the groups in a wild chase. He hated to let this precious prize out of his control, but it was the only way to ensure its safety.

  “Come now!” he called.

  Five trusted allies entered the space, blacking out the light of day. He gazed into the decaying face of one then another, recalling the many years he had fought, scrounged and survived alongside each of them.

  “You each know your task.”

  They nodded.

  “Make your deliveries, and then we must deaden your minds so no one will perceive our plan at the sun’s setting.” That magic moment when their minds would unify, when their kind would be integrated in a cumulative hunger.

  His lackeys stiffened. The youngest shifted from foot to foot, focused on the ground.

  Amos lifted an amber vial. Its contents caught the sun and warmed like the nectar of the gods. “People will come after you. Upon delivery, drink this immediately.”

  Joseph stepped forward, skeletal hand extended, two finger tips missing where the ligaments had completely decayed. He had been but twenty and three, the young father of three beautiful girls when he’d been taken by the Soulless in rural France. Now, five-hundred years later, he was the only one Amos truly trusted.

  And Kingdom knew that.

  Or at least, they would.

  Amos repressed a grin as he handed over the poison, the strongest dose, to his friend. Four decoys to draw off the other factions and Soulless, one to lure Kingdom. He issued a satchel to each and dismissed them, all but Joseph. He grabbed his friend’s arm as the others left the cave. “Yours is the one,” he hissed.

  Crimson pupils widened. Joseph’s mouth cracked wide, head shaking.

  Amos smirked. “Fly like a raven, my friend.”


  He watched the five disappear through the trees, each a different direction. A chill washed over his skin, the dense moisture of a traveling cloud.

  “You are ready to play your part?” he asked.

  The girl materialized next to him. “Are you?” Her soprano sent the hairs on his neck standing.

  He nodded.

  Her lips twisted up in a sneer-grin so wicked it ought to belong to Lucifer himself.

  Twenty-One

  The Future

  Alexia had no idea how many miles passed below them, and she didn’t care. She had Kiren. Somehow they would get through this.

  The sun neared the horizon as they pulled to a halt, a mocking orb that reminded her of the ring circling her finger, of the promise of eternity that neither of them had yet made.

  So close. They had been so close!

  A lighted inn waited before them, a splintering porch and square door with dual windows above it. Bays protruded from the upper floor and two large chimneys stood from a nearly domed roof.

  Kiren slid from the horse and pulled a cloak from the saddlebag, tucking it about her. He took her hands and steadied her as she met the ground, legs shaky.

  “Are you all right?”

  She gazed into his startling eyes, lit by the warmth of an ending day—proof that even the worst days must eventually come to a close. “I am with you, am I not?”

  He laughed. “Let us find you something to eat.”

  She loved that he was practical, that he could laugh, even in the face of so great a loss.

  A simple room greeted them, four crude tables lining the back wall near the hearth. A young woman knitted next to the fire as the dog at her feet panted. The animal looked up and gave a curious whine.

  The woman turned.

  “Oh, oh my! I did not hear you there.” She rose, setting her knitting aside. Brown strands of hair escaped her careful bun. Her round face might have been described as pretty, except for one drooping eyelid. “Come in then. What can we do you for?”

  “Food please.” He urged Alexia forward—something about his voice bothering her. “And a bed.”

  The woman’s lip quirked up, spreading in a brilliant smile, crystal-blue eyes fixed absently and distant. “Who have you brought me then?”

  Kiren cleared his throat. “Mae, allow me to introduce Dana’s child.”

  A hand fluttered to the woman’s pleated frock. Mae’s head turned his direction, stare lost on his knees. She reached out, fingers panning the air. Kiren took her hand and guided it to Alexia’s arm.

  “Welcome. I have waited a long time for you, Alexia.” The warmth of Mae’s fingers seeped through her skin. Alexia turned a questioning frown on Kiren. Had this woman known her mother? Worked with her? Been told about the future?

  Mae’s nose flared. “But why do I smell blood?”

  Kiren cupped Alexia’s shoulder. “She will need a change of clothes, a bath, and a washboard.”

  The woman squeezed Alexia’s arm, pulling her face to face. “What has he put you through?”

  Staring into her blank gaze, Alexia found it difficult to resurrect her voice. “I am well.”

  Mae’s frown relaxed. “Come. Have a seat. Allow someone less foolhardy to take proper care of you.”

  “Mae.” Kiren crossed his arms.

  She lifted a finger. “You have a horse out front to stable.”

  Alexia admired her hostess’s handling of Kiren, but did not feel he deserved so blatant a rebuke. The woman pushed her into a spindle-legged chair and swept through a doorway on the far side of the room.

  Kiren chuckled and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You could not be in better hands.”

  “Unless they were yours.”

  He tipped her chin toward him. She squinted. The glow had leached from his skin. His scar stood out jaggedly down his cheek, a white zag against sun-kissed skin. He was abnormally insignificant—for him, almost...normal.

  “Trust that I know what I am doing,” he whispered. Even his voice held less...what?

  “Placing me in the care of the blind?” she challenged.

  A smile quirked his none-too-brilliant cheek, and he exited.

  Strange. Maybe exhaustion had finally gotten the best of him.

  Something wet touched her hand. She glanced down. She’d been so absorbed in thought, she hadn’t noticed the dog pad over, or the way he sat panting.

  “Hello, pup.”

  He gave a short yelp.

  She patted his head, and as she did, Alexia fixated on the ring stationed over her left finger. It refracted light across the ceiling and walls.

  Married.

  One day.

  Even after she matured into a beauty, the secret belief remained in her heart that she would forever be alone. She was so far from anything and everything she had ever known. Her family. Her friends. Her home.

  The animal growled. His hackles stood on end, nose pointed toward the exit.

  The door creaked inward.

  She turned.

  Long dark locks spilled over a thin set of shoulders, face hidden in a black hood. Raven skirts swirled ghostly-quiet across the floor and pale skin caught the light against elegant long fingers, nails pearly white and curved.

  She halted three paces in front of Alexia and the hood fell back. Olive eyes sparkled in the firelight, pupils a blazing red.

  Sarah smiled.

  Alexia screamed.

  Twenty-Two

  Recruits

  Miles shivered and stiffened. The chill across his skin was one with which he’d grown all too familiar, one that meant he was being followed by a child of the mist. He hated it when they were in the mist. Impossible to get a solid read.

  The brick alley shrank about him. If the Breeders had come for him, all they had to do was block off each outlet. He couldn’t be this careless again. He should be out in the country, leading the Breeders and Soulless away from humanity, not placing the innocent in imminent danger. Still, he liked the salt air of the seaport, and finding work (the kind that kept his belly full and where his disappearance would make little difference) proved much easier in this Boston populace.

  He reached out mentally, scanning the emotions surrounding him.

  Worry sank into his gut like curdled milk, the fear of being unable to feed seven hungry mouths. He pulled away and fury drilled through his chest—outrage at the monarch’s mandates on trade, his relegation of authority through hired bayonets, and the imbalance of justice afforded all citizens of the New World.

  Miles shrank back into himself.

  A shadow dropped across him, blocking the morning light at the end of the alley. He half turned, muscles taut and ready to run. He leapt forward mentally and hit a brick wall. Ricocheting back, he squared his shoulders for a fight.

  “Bawdy langler! Put those punchers away. I ain’t come to brawl.”

  Emotion squeezed its fist around his throat. “Lester?”

  “Aye, laddy.”

  Miles’s knees trembled. He wanted to run to the familiar face and cling like a needy child. Just hearing the man’s voice was like coming home. But... “You should not be here.”

  The elderly man stepped into the alley, his familiar outline framed by sunshine. “The more apt response would be, why the shinny daylights are you here?”

  Joy lifted Miles’s cheeks. Count on Lester to strike at the heart of the matter—but he was right. If he was here, something had gone terribly wrong—or Miles was in immediate danger. He’d spent all last night forcing himself to see through the eyes of a fox family and he didn’t think he’d let anything important escape through the link, but Lester’s presence suggested otherwise.

  “Tell me,” Miles demanded.

  Lester extended a hand. “We’ll chat on the way.”

  Another shadow loomed in the alley opening. Miles shaded his eyes and gasped.

  Ethel.

  It was Christmas morning! His heart squeezed. He’d been able to survive this banishment by conv
incing himself he was on an extended observation assignment—albeit without the regular deliveries of meals or apple puffs—but the truth was far too devastating. He never thought he’d see his dear family again.

  “How did you find me?” he asked.

  Ethel’s head tilted. “We never lost you, Miles dear.”

  He choked. “You were watching over me?”

  Her smile answered.

  How many times had he felt the brush of living wind? How many nights had he dismissed the awareness as his own wishful thinking, and how foolish he had been! If he’d just cried out, she might have appeared.

  But she might not have. The Master had surely given orders not to make her presence known, but Miles knew how the man worked. He never left the safety of the Passionate to chance.

  His lungs seized. The Master. Was he truly going to see his mentor and best friend once more?

  Anxiously, he latched onto Ethel’s hand. He was going home.

  Twenty-Three

  Dreams

  “Alexia!”

  Her eyes flew open. The world leapt in an erratic blur of color and motion. Lips pressed at her ear, arms clutched tightly about her, crushing her to a solid torso as the horse bolted beneath them. The reigns cut into Kiren’s forearm where they looped, the beast slowing grudgingly to a canter, calming even less enthusiastically to a walk.

  “Alexia, what is it?”

  Kiren’s brilliance robbed her of voice, his wild eyes eclipsing the blue of the sky. She inhaled his oaky musk and relaxed into him, clutching his sleeve. The stink of blood cut into her nose, and she turned her head away, not wishing to remember how close she’d come to death but a short time ago.

  The open road waited, barred only by forests on the far horizon behind and open rolling fields ahead. The sun hung at the apex of the sky.