Soulless (Maiden of Time Book 2)

by Crystal Collier

  Sixty-One

  Sarah

  Alexia’s heart clenched.

  The noise of the inn faded into the hollow wind of an empty chasm. The only occupants were her stuttering heart and the murmur of stumbling thoughts.

  John set her sister down.

  Alexia jolted forward, but Kiren’s fingers cut into her shoulders.

  John’s chest heaved, his eyes promising murder. “You did this to her.” He pointed with a hooked finger, his frame trembling.

  Sarah’s skin was the color of chalk, her eyes blank.

  Torrid ice crinkled through Alexia’s veins. She fought for a voice, discovering none. Me?

  “You told her how to...” He covered his mouth, threw his fist down and rounded away. People scattered out of his path.

  Metal protruded from Sarah’s chest, the jagged edge of a broken blade, the browned stain of blood consuming her sister’s once-pastel frock.

  Alexia’s hands dropped limply to her sides. Sarah’s upturned palms were sliced from inserting the metal.

  Two nights ago. Sarah gave birth two nights ago to a dead child...

  Alexia collapsed to her knees. Because she’d gone to save Kiren, she hadn’t been there to comfort Sarah. John was right. Sarah was dead because of her.

  Alexia’s chest collapsed. Sobs tore through her.

  She’d done this.

  Kiren’s arms wrapped around her. Even the warmth of his presence could not combat the hailstorm gusting through her chest.

  Everything was falling apart. Her whole world—it was wrong, in ruin! Her sister couldn’t be dead! Kiren could not be powerless! She had saved them both once, was that not enough?

  She wished it was her instead, that she could escape or cease to exist—like her sister. The inn disappeared, Kiren’s touch, all gone.

  To the absence of time.

  A soft palm cupped her cheek. She blinked up into deep olive eyes and raven tresses. Sarah, her heart gasped. The sorrow shook free like snow from pine boughs. Her joy burst through and manifest in luminous daylight—transforming the emptiness around her into Father’s garden, her favorite memory of a picnic with her sister.

  But the cheekbones were too low, the skin a shade too dark. This wasn’t Sarah—only someone who greatly resembled her best friend.

  Light faded back into the nothingness of a place without time. Alexia wept, drowning in the folds of her skirt like a bitter sea. She remained, folded in the depths, gasping for breath while raging torrents of emotion broke her soul in pieces. Even when she’d believed her sister lost, even when she believed Sarah damned forever by the Soulless taint, even while she doubted her motives, Sarah had still been alive. Now they were forever parted. Her dearest relation had been banished to a crueler fate than any person deserved: bereft of child, betrayed by love, devoid of life.

  Alexia surfaced after what must have been an hour of wailing, a hand gently rubbing circles over her back.

  “One sacrificed to save another.”

  Alexia grabbed her mother’s bodice. “You knew this would happen! You knew she would die if I saved Kiren. You knew I would have to—” She stared at her hands, washed clean but still covered in blood.

  Dana’s eyes lowered, her voice soft. “I did not know, Alexia, but I guessed. You made a difficult decision. Would you undo it?”

  She hugged herself, shivering from an impossible cold. “How much worse can it be?”

  Her mother’s brows scrunched down over her closed eyes. “You could lose them both.”

  Alexia’s insides collapsed. “It is not a gift we possess. It is a curse.”

  Dana took hold of her arm and gave it a gentle squeeze.

  “I wish I could undo it all.” Alexia covered her face. “I wish I could stop the Soulless from ever existing. I hate this all so much!”

  She wept again.

  Somewhere in the bleakness she decided. Since his medallion was first taken, she’d known it was her fault—and her duty to return it. If only she’d heeded that intuition sooner! Kiren would have been present to heal Sarah. They would have been married, bonded before any of this awfulness occurred. Now it seemed fate had forced her hand, placed her between two impossible choices so she would wake to her impending duty and make things right.

  “Proceed with caution,” Dana whispered.

  Alexia nodded and withdrew from the absence of time.

  Sixty-Two

  Enemy at the Gates

  A scream carried through the back door, rending the night.

  Kiren’s hand instantly flew to his neck, searching for the chain.

  Their enemies were come, as expected. The Passionate were here and there was a high concentration of negative emotion.

  His fingers curled over the lifeless metal, and his breath hitched. Loss spilled through him anew, the drowning flood of his missing family inheritance and the only relic remaining from his father.

  He hurried to the door, leaving Alexia behind.

  A lookout raced into the protective ring of the inn. Ragged capes glided out from the darkness, tromping Mae’s carefully planted crop.

  He called over his shoulder, “Mae!”

  Hissing screams tore the air.

  The blind woman walked calmly through the bustle and panic. She descended the steps and paused at the perimeter, fists clenched, her head down, daring them to come closer.

  If she waited a second longer, it would be too late—they’d be on neutral ground and free to drag the Passionate from the premises.

  “Mae, go!” he called.

  Her shoulders tensed. He knew how this killed her, how she hated and craved it, but she also recognized the necessity. She stepped over the breach.

  He whirled and nearly ran into Alexia. Tears clung to her face, but her mouth was a tight line, determination squared in her glare.

  Kiren lifted her chin. “You stay inside, do you understand me?”

  Her eyes rose to his, guilt and pain locked in her evergreens. He cupped her cheek and kissed her brow. “You have done enough.”

  Her eyes trembled, glistening with new tears.

  “Stay inside.” Kiren pulled away, snatching a broom from the closet as he went.

  If he knew anything, he knew how these creatures thought. They would lay siege, attacking from the back to keep Mae occupied while a detachment forced their way through the front, but why hadn’t they heard from the other lookout?

  “To arms!” He called and sped back through the great room, where a number of terrified people huddled. He threw the front door open.

  Two sets of crimson eyes turned up at him. He shoved the broom into the first one’s chest, throwing it off the front stoop, and he whirled on the other, knocking it over. They both tumbled down the steps. He jumped down, beating them away from the inn and through the safety line, following them off scorched earth. They hissed and shrieked.

  Movement caught his periphery. He whirled.

  A bare hand reached for his exposed skin. He stumbled sideways and tripped.

  Dead, white fingers followed, the roundness of their exposed tips like miniature moons reaching to snuff out the life he’d known and replace it with a nightmare.

  Sixty-Three

  Soldiers

  BOOM!

  A flash burst out of the night.

  Kiren landed on his shoulder, clutching his ears. The bony hand reaching for him splintered apart at the center, the creature thrown to the ground.

  A horse roared closer. Kiren shoved up onto an elbow. The beast whinnied and reared, hooves crunching down over the accursed. A sturdy form slipped off the animal, rifle clutched at his side.

  Kiren grappled to his feet. “Charles?”

  “Are they as hungry for you tonight as they have been for me?”

  He couldn’t close his mouth to answer. The nobleman tossed his horse’s reins aside and posted himself at Kiren’s side, head swiveling as he eyed the darkness. “There are more coming.”

  Hisses raked the wind. An
icy chill dropped over them.

  The floods arrived. Kiren received Alexia’s sword from Lester and fended off the hordes. Charles held his own with a rapier, and the others defended the perimeter. The Soulless could not turn anyone on scorched earth, but in these overwhelming numbers they could certainly overpower and drag the Passionate to their doom. Kiren prayed Alexia was safe and that Mae was successfully defending the back side of the inn. Only another hour and dawn would banish their enemies to the shadows.

  The clatter of hooves yanked Kiren’s chin up.

  Edward sped through the horde of enemies on horseback, pulling to a halt and sliding free of the animal at Kiren’s side.

  Oh no.

  “Report,” Kiren called, swinging his saber.

  “I let her go when they attacked.”

  Kiren bit down, slashing with too much vigor. Black smog exploded around them. “Had Bellezza recovered enough to travel by mist?”

  Edward’s head shook. “The gold is still inside her. I begged her to ride with me for our collective strength, but she ran. There was too much chaos.”

  A group rushed them. Kiren and Edward attacked in unison, cutting through the throng. It thinned to sickening smoke.

  “Do you know if she escaped?” Kiren asked.

  “I tried to follow her...”

  Blackness blotted out their vision, death filling the air like a constant hum of hornets.

  They came in waves. Kiren missed their hearts more often that he hit them, so unaccustomed to using a blade. He cut through the mass and obtained a twenty second reprieve, only to be assaulted by the very creatures he’d just sliced down. They danced back and forth over the perimeter, beating the enemy back only to lose ground again.

  A scream burst through the ranks.

  A girl. Kiren whirled and fought his way forward. Miles appeared at his side, eyes wide, a dagger clasped in one hand. They battled their way through the horde, working in unison. The mass cleared.

  Golden hair streaked loosely in the starlight, frayed and ragged. Bellezza’s skirts were muddied and they swished as she whirled with a small ax. Her chest heaved as she sliced through the Soulless.

  Kiren paused. She had come to them after all, finally given in to reason?

  The girl rounded, her teeth clenched. Her eyes squeezed, oozing with toxins, her nose crinkling with rage. “You did this to me!” she shrieked. Lifting her ax, she charged.

  Kiren was frozen in shock.

  Miles stepped between them, his dagger clanging against her ax. He shoved her back and took a stance.

  Tears rolled down Bellezza’s cheeks. “I cannot mist!” Her grip tightened on her weapon. “I cannot heal!”

  Kiren’s saber drooped. Had he truly destroyed her? Never had they forced one of the Passionate to ingest gold, but he believed it would pass through her system eventually. It had been more than a week. It should have exited her body by now.

  She growled and launched at him again. Miles threw her off, and writhing black bodies flooded in.

  Kiren cut through them, determined to find the girl again, to set things aright. He chopped through the mass, searching for the end of the wave.

  Black haze littered the air as Bellezza’s scream carried above the skirmish. Kiren forced his way through.

  Whoosh! Metal flashed toward his neck.

  He ducked.

  The girl recoiled with her weapon and lunged at him. He stumbled backward. Miles jumped out of the blackness, smacking Bellezza in the shoulder and knocking them both to the ground.

  Creatures circled in. Kiren rushed forward. He swung, blinded by the number of them.

  The clash of metal rang in his ears, Miles’s grunts and Bellezza’s shrieks launching the hair on the back of his neck upward.

  “Bellezza, stop!” he called. They did not have time to battle one another! He plunged his weapon through the writhing blackness and retreated toward the skirmish.

  Miles’s panting pulled him through the ebony fog. Golden tresses whirled as the girl danced back, raking her ax free from the boy’s dagger.

  Miles jabbed.

  The girl gasped. Her back stiffened, still as stone. Kiren circled.

  Bellezza’s eyes were wide, her lips open in shock, the dagger protruding from her chest. She tottered.

  Kiren caught her as ice raked through the air, the wind gone. Piercing red eyes rushed from the darkness. He set her down and turned on their foe.

  The minutes stretched as his weapon whirled, every second counting against him, against her life. Forcing the tide back, he returned to the girl.

  Miles stood over Bellezza, his dagger still lodged in her chest, her body motionless.

  Kiren couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

  He was too late.

  But she was so strong. Maybe if—

  He dropped to her side, but her chest wasn’t moving, her eyes glazed over.

  She was empty.

  Miles eyes shot wide. “Watch ou—”

  Simmering fingers wrapped around Kiren’s throat. He grabbed the bone, tearing at it and searching for his necklace on instinct. The waste of a counterfeit. He cursed silently, the wall of midnight blocking him from Miles and the dead girl.

  Bony claws caught his limbs and yanked. His arm tweaked, saber lost. Burning hands lifted him off the ground, slicing into his legs, his side, his shoulders. If they dragged him off scorched earth he would become one of them. He couldn’t let that happen!

  Fire tore through him.

  He lurched. Searing nails pierced into his flesh through his clothes, multiple lacerations. He couldn’t breathe. The darkness around him suddenly felt very far away, as if he were viewing it through a bottle.

  He screamed.

  Sixty-Four

  Rally

  The warming sky spun above Kiren. This was happening. This was really happening. A moment longer, and they would succeed in pulling him beyond the perimeter. They would have what they wanted: his essence. Alexia would be left alone, bonded to a man who craved her flesh. Dark hunger was the only happiness she could hope for, an emptiness that should have been heaven.

  Never.

  She had destroyed her innocence for him, killed for him. He could not fail her. Never again.

  Kiren reached into his core and pulled. Light burst around him. It beamed off his skin, cutting through the blackness.

  Gasps rang.

  Sixty-Five

  Piercing

  The howl was unlike anything she’d ever heard. Alexia’s blood turned to ice. The scream shook her frame and tore at her lungs as if it originated from her own body, but it was not her.

  She shoved out the inn door and stopped on the stoop, startled.

  Light trickled across the land.

  She scoured the ground for shrouds, but other than a periodic fallen corpse, they were gone. Passionate dropped to their knees or laughed for relief, patting one another on the back.

  They had done it!

  She shoved her way through allies, needing to discover her husband was safe. She could feel him, weakly, like the cord that bound them had been stretched to thread and coiled about the yard.

  People huddled together, their joy lost on her as she squirmed through them and almost tripped over Miles. He knelt on the ground, staring at the dagger lodged in a small body.

  Golden ringlets spilled across the dirt, frayed and loose, the child’s royal velvet gown mucked and ragged.

  “Bellezza...” she whispered. The girl didn’t respond, her body still. “Miles?”

  His shoulders drooped, head bowed.

  “She is not...” Alexia covered her mouth. The girl could not be dead. She was one of those eternal creatures, the kind that would torment them long beyond this wretched battle.

  No, Bellezza was merely injured. She needed help.

  Kiren could heal this.

  Miles’s gaze again dropped to the unmoving girl. “She attacked him. I stopped her.”

  Miles had done this? Her hea
rt throbbed for him, broken and weighed down by her own numerous murders.

  She dropped on the ground beside him and wrapped her arms around his shoulder. “Oh, Miles...”

  His eyes closed and he reached out, sliding his palm over the dagger handle. He pulled it free of Bellezza’s form. Instead of blood, white mist oozed out of the injury, releasing into the sky. The particles deflated her form, ribs and shoulders sinking in. Her body disintegrated, like an exhaled breath until nothing remained.

  Gone. Just like that, the girl was gone.

  “Miles, where is my husband? Why couldn’t he stop this?”

  He didn’t move, his knuckles white around the dagger hilt.

  “Miles?” She wanted to shake him.

  His head lifted, gaze drifting to the horizon.

  She followed it. White brilliance beamed in the distance near the boundary line, a dome of unearthly light, not the foggy yellow rays of sunrise. It diminished, pulsating inward as the glow died. A red haze gleamed over the edge of the horizon, silhouetting the man who knelt on the ground, head bowed, shoulders back.

  Kiren.

  She rushed forward.

  Kiren toppled. Lester appeared at his side, catching him. She stepped over three prostrate bodies, pools of darkness against the road, silenced Soulless. She dropped to the runner’s side.

  “He’s alive, if that be what yer fearin’,” Lester said.

  Kiren’s eyes fluttered. He grunted. Words garbled in his throat.

  Alexia wrapped her fingers around his and awareness burst through her. Warmth crept into her skin, a cloud-like consciousness that trickled up into her mind: You should not be out here.

  She scowled. “Says the man who cannot even lift his head.”