The Lost Souls (The Holy Trinity)

by Sheehan, Madeline

  The man who’d killed his clan’s baró, a former friend, Michaela’s father, just to continue to be with her.

  There wasn’t any more he could do. Nico was fresh out of more.

  “Get in the trailer,” he ordered her.

  Becki turned to him, her cheeks wet with tears, her nostrils flaring with heavy breaths. “No,” she said bitterly.

  He snapped. “GET IN THE FUCKING TRAILER!” he bellowed.

  “When do I get to make my own decisions?” she screamed.

  He advanced on her. “You are a woman,” he bit out. “You have never made your own decisions, and you never will. You may not legally be my wife, but you are still my wife, and despite what you might think, I’m pretty sure Hockey agrees with me.” He pointed toward the woods. “I’M ALL YOU’VE GOT LEFT!”

  “Don’t do me any more favors!” she spat.

  Nico’s teeth clenched. He was going to slap her, tell her it was time to shut her damn mouth, order her into the trailer, order her to start loving him back, order her to—

  They moved so fast. Too fast. He barely had enough time to comprehend that Becki had just been tackled to the ground when he was barreled into. Ducking fangs and claws, fighting for his life, he was forced to hear Becki’s pained, fear-ridden screams, but was unable to help her.

  The Skin atop him suddenly burst into white flames, and Nico shoved with all his strength, sending the shrieking monster flying off him and across the pavement. Despite the burning pain all over his body, courtesy of the talons that had slashed him repeatedly, he surged to his feet, ready to help Becki, ready to kill the monster that had attacked her.

  Nico blinked at the Gaje girl holding a knife in each of her shaking hands, and at Hockey, beside her, who was bending down and lifting the dead Skin’s body up and off…

  Becki.

  “No!” Nico screamed, tripping over his own feet as he attempted to reach her.

  That was when he saw it—the gaping wound in the side of her neck, exposing muscle and tendons, and dark blood pooling in a growing circle around her head.

  He knew he was screaming. He was yelling and screaming and crying, but he couldn’t hear himself. It was all a mess, a heart-pounding, blood-burning mess of emotions and words and begging God to save her life, but he was too late, and prayers were no good.

  She was gone. Just like that, in the span of seconds, Becki was gone.

  And it was all his fault. He’d forced her into marrying him, he’d killed Tobar to keep her, he’d taken her out of camp, away from the protection of their people, and he’d put her in harm’s way.

  All for what? To keep her? And instead, he’d lost her.

  He’d fucking lost her.

  Dropping down beside her, he shoved Hockey out of his way and gathered her body in his arms.

  “Don’t leave me!” he screamed, crushing her to him. “Don’t you fucking leave me!”

  “Nico!” Hockey yelled, frantically trying to pry Becki from his arms. “Nico, get away from her! Nico! Damn it, frate, she’s going to turn!”

  Nico’s thoughts came skidding to a stop. She would turn. She would turn, she would wake up, he could have her back…he could have her back…he could have her back.

  He shoved Hockey backward. “Don’t touch her!”

  “Nico,” Hockey said quietly, “you can’t let that happen. Don’t let her turn.”

  “I can’t lose her!” he shouted. “I can’t lose her!”

  “It won’t be her,” Hockey continued. “I saw it happen to Shandor, frate. I saw him—”

  “SHUT UP!” Nico roared. “And don’t touch her!”

  In his arms, Becki began to twitch. First her fingers, then her arms, and soon she was convulsing so violently, Nico couldn’t keep a good hold on her. Becki’s mouth suddenly opened and a pain-filled, agonizing wail pierced the air.

  “She’s turning!” the Gaje girl screamed. “Do something! She’s turning!”

  But Nico wasn’t listening. He was staring into her eyes. Her black eyes.

  “Frate,” Nico breathed, reaching for Hockey. He grasped the man’s forearm and shook him. “It’s magic,” he whispered. “Look…it’s dark magic.”

  “I was too far away from Shandor,” Hockey said. “I never saw…”

  This wasn’t a disease gone awry. It wasn’t a Gaje government conspiracy. Hell hadn’t come to Earth in the form of human beings. This was magic, a curse. The whole damn world had been cursed with dark Romani magic. And Nico knew magic. He breathed magic. He was magic. He knew that this was fixable, that it could be reversed if you found the source.

  “She’s not dead,” he said, grabbing Becki’s hands, trying to hold her still while she thrashed through her change. “She’s just cursed. They’re all just cursed. We find the person responsible, we kill the curse, and Becki will turn back—”

  Becki went still.

  “Fată?” he breathed.

  Her eyelids flew open, revealing glowing red eyes. Her mouth opened in a feral snarl, and—

  Boom. Becki’s head bounced back against the pavement, and once again, her body went limp. Her newly red eyes faded back to their soft caramel hue, and a small trickle of blood leaked from the single bullet hole in her forehead.

  Trembling, Nico looked up at the Gaje girl standing above him, the smoking gun still in her shaking hands, still aimed at Becki.

  “I will kill you!” he roared, leaping to his feet and lunging for her.

  Her eyes, full of fear, widened, and that was the last thing Nico saw.

  Pain radiated throughout his skull…

  And the world went black.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “Hockey,” Mira said, sounding and looking exasperated. “I think she’s hungry. We’ve tried everything else.”

  The baby—the little girl whose name neither Hockey nor Mira knew because Nico had holed himself up in a corner of the trailer, not speaking to anyone—was crying incessantly, had been for hours now.

  “There’s no formula,” Mira continued. “I think…” She trailed off and closed her eyes. When she opened them, she lowered her voice an octave. “I think she was breast-fed.”

  Hockey didn’t doubt it. No Romani baby had ever been formula-fed. If a mamă had problems with her milk, a wet nurse would step in. And if the baby refused to feed, every woman in the clan would work tirelessly around the clock to ensure the baby was fed.

  Hockey glanced behind him to where Nico sat. Unmoving, unblinking, he seemed to be in some sort of shock, oblivious to the world around him.

  Shaking his head, Hockey looked back to Mira.

  “We’re going to need to find some formula,” he said quietly, “and I don’t think Nico is up to the job.”

  Not that he blamed Nico. Hockey wasn’t up to the job either. Nobody was. What had transpired only hours ago had shaken everyone. Becki was gone, dead. She wasn’t coming back, and Hockey wasn’t sure if he’d allowed her death to truly sink in yet. His fear was that if he did, if he allowed it to permeate his brain, to take over, then he wouldn’t be up for much of anything, let alone trying to find baby formula. It wasn’t just the baby he was responsible for now. It was Mira and Nico too. He could and would set aside his own grief to make sure the three of them stayed alive while under his care.

  Blowing out a breath, Hockey kneeled down in front of the bed Mira was sitting on. “You did the right thing,” he said solemnly. “You know that, right?”

  Pressing her lips together tightly, Mira nodded.

  He could see the guilt, the regret, the remorse in her expression, but he wasn’t going to insult her by commenting on it or by pushing her to talk about it further. Becki was as good as dead the second that thing had sunk its teeth into her. Curse or no curse, none of them had any idea how to break a dark magic curse. In his grief, Nico had been grasping at straws.

  But goddamn if dark magic hadn’t blindsided the world. Hockey had heard stories before—nature’s punishments gone awry, and becaus
e of such, entire villages had been wiped out by dark magic—but those stories were from long ago and only garnered from other stories that had been bastardized as they were passed down the line from generation to generation. Hockey had no idea how dire the consequences of messing with nature’s gifts could truly be.

  But none of that mattered at the moment, not when there was a hungry baby in his care.

  Slowly, he got to his feet. “I’ll go,” he told Mira. “Keep a gun on you in case…” He trailed off as he glanced back at Nico, who still hadn’t so much as blinked.

  “In case you need it,” Hockey finished.

  Mira looked up at him. “Be careful,” she whispered.

  He wasn’t going to make any promises, not in a world where a promise could be ripped to shreds within seconds of making it. So instead of promising her, he went back down on his knees and cupped her face between his hands. Crushing her mouth to his, Hockey kissed her.

  He kissed her like he loved her even though he didn’t, not yet anyway. But he could…someday. And it wouldn’t be a one-sided love.

  It would be mutual.

  “I don’t know how safe this park is,” he said, pulling away from her. “We’re only fifty or so miles from where the Skins attacked, so if I’m not back by nightfall, you leave. Get Nico to tell you where my clan is, and I promise you, Mira, they’ll protect you.”

  “He killed a man,” she said. “You heard him. He can’t go back there.”

  Hockey shook his head. “I’ve thought about that. Blame it on Becki,” he said. He didn’t want to pin a murder on Becki, but from her history with Tobar, it was a plausible outcome and right now, Hockey didn’t have time for grief or guilt.

  “Tell them it was Becki who killed Tobar and that Nico took her and ran to protect her.”

  Her big eyes filled. “I’m not leaving here without you,” she said weakly.“You will,” he said forcefully. “And you will do everything you can to keep surviving because that’s who you are, Mira. You’re a survivor.”

  • • •

  Four hours later, inside a picked-over drugstore in a nearby town, surrounded by a pack of hungry Skins, Hockey knew his time on earth had come to an end.

  “You’re so pretty,” a female skin purred as she rubbed her cheek against his. “Pretty like a girl with your perfect skin and long hair.”

  He’d been outnumbered and overpowered, his magic rendered useless when they’d pinned his hands behind his back.

  “What are you waiting for?” Hockey yelled, struggling fruitlessly against the male holding him.

  Hockey had never seen such a thing—Skins not instantly attacking but playing with their food instead. They were far different than any others he’d encountered. They were housebroken, so to speak. Someone had taught them self-control. They were calling one another by their first names, and some of them were even wearing clothing.

  Someone, it seemed, had humanized them to some extent.

  “Tahyra!” The female in front of him squealed excitedly. “We found you a pretty one!”

  Hockey watched as a naked female Skin, her hair matted and dirty, sauntered up to him. Stopping in front of him, she sniffed the air and growled low.

  “Was he alone?” she asked, looking him over as if he were…dinner.

  “Yes,” the male holding him answered.

  “Good,” she purred.

  “What about Shandor?” the other female whispered.

  Hockey’s thoughts snapped to attention. Shandor?

  The dirty female, the one called Tahyra, split her lips into a fang-filled grin. “We’ll bring home an animal or two for him. He never has to know about this.”

  Hockey’s brain spun as he tried to quickly figure out what was happening here and how he might use this information to his advantage, but before he could wrap his mind around any sort of scenario that made sense to him, Tahyra had buried her face in his neck. Her cold tongue shot out, licking along his jugular, chilling him to the bone.

  “My boyfriend,” she whispered throatily, “wants me to be a vegetarian.”

  Hockey shuddered as her teeth sank easily through the skin on his neck. Tahyra’s hands flew to his hips, gripping him tightly, and she moaned as his blood began to fill her mouth. As she fed, he felt himself quickly weaken. His vision blurred, his muscles began to ache, and a chill settled heavily in his gut.

  Only moments later, she pulled away from him and licked her blood-coated lips.

  “And I love him,” she said breathlessly. “I want to make him happy, but…I’m so…hungry.”

  “He’ll forgive you, fată,” he rasped weakly, doing his best Shandor impression. “If my frate loves you, he’ll forgive you. Us Romani, we are weak when it comes…to…our…women.”

  Tahyra’s red eyes grew wide with surprise. Grabbing his neck, she squeezed him painfully. “What did you say?” she hissed and Hockey could hear the fear in her words.

  Hockey tried to smile but the effort was futile. He was far too weak at this point.

  “What did you say?” she screamed.

  When he didn’t answer, she screamed again, out of frustration this time.

  “Finish him off!” she hissed and released him. They were on him before he hit the floor. Pain scoured his body as talons and teeth dug into every limb, but he didn’t scream or cry. This life might be over, but this death was merely a stepping-stone to another life.

  And he’d lived a good life, a full life.

  Did he want more? Of course.

  Hockey wanted to see his family again, to hug his mamă tightly, to dance with his little soră, to go hunting with tată and his frate, to sit around the bonfire and listen to Maisera tell the old stories of their people, to hear the violins.

  He wanted to kiss Mira one more time.

  Ah, now that was pain. Real pain. The kind that made him want to cry and scream from the unfairness of it all.

  But by then, there was nothing left of him to cry or scream.

  And then…

  Then there was nothing at all.

  Hockey was in God’s hands now.

  Sneak peek: My Heart & Soul

  (The Holy Trinity Series Book Three)

  Summer

  Xan Deleanu looked at the familiar faces around the fire pit. Nadya Popa sat beside Pesha Moldoveanu, their heads bent together as they talked among themselves. Next to Pesha was Simionce Asenov with his arm slung over Onyx Vãduva’s shoulders. Next to Onyx sat Nico Čonka and beside him, a Gaje named Mira. Sleeping in between them was Michaela, Becki Bálan and Tobar Popa’s daughter.

  Only weeks after his own arrival in Trinity’s camp, Xan had been out hunting when he’d come across Nico, Mira, and Michaela holed up in Nico’s trailer. Neither Nico nor Mira did much speaking. They still had yet to tell anyone what had actually happened to them—or Becki and Hockey, for that matter—but anyone could guess. The two of them wore the grief from their losses as plain as day.

  Next to Mira was Adriana Siwak, and beside her was Fifi Horváth. Pausing, Xan studied Fifi. Back at camp, she’d been beaten and raped by a clan member they’d all considered a friend, someone they’d all loved. At first, Fifi couldn’t stand to have anyone touch her, but that wasn’t the case anymore. She was doing incredibly well, and he was damn proud of her.

  Actually, Xan was proud of all of them. After what they’d all been through, everyone was doing remarkably well. Everyone except Trinity. His wife.

  When he’d first found her, warded inside this park, living comfortably away from the Skin Eaters who had quickly terrorized and taken over the world, he’d been beyond thankful. Skins were essentially high-octane humans with an appetite for raw flesh and blood. Once bitten by one, a human was transformed into a deadly fast, hard-to-kill, clawed, fanged freak, who ate first and thought later. Or so they’d thought. It appeared that Skins were quickly mastering the ability to control themselves.

  The only reason his clan had survived the initial outbreak was inborn magic, gifted to
everyone in his clan except himself, a half Rom and half Gaje, thanks to his Native American fuck-and-run tată.

  Trinity hadn’t had magic either—at least not until she’d been gifted hers from Gerik. Her soul mate. Her lover. The man she was grieving for and the reason she was wasting away inside her cabin.

  Gerik Hjemsäter became cursed when he’d used dark magic to protect their clan, and his punishment, his transformation from man to beast, had completed just before Xan found Trinity. Supposedly, Gerik was now a full-fledged dragon, the size of an airplane. He had taken to the sky, never to be heard from again.

  Trinity was devastated. Or Xan assumed that Trinity was devastated. She sure wasn’t acting devastated, but he assumed her ever-increasing bad behavior was actually a mask for how devastated she really did feel.

  And he…well, he was drunk.

  And high.

  And, yeah, he was pretty fucking devastated, too.

  Glancing toward her cabin, Xan watched the firelight from inside flicker in the window.

  She had barely spoken to him, and she couldn’t even look at him without her beautiful emerald eyes bleeding to black. His wife, the only woman he’d ever loved, hated his fucking guts.

  Mostly because he was a cheating bastard. Yeah, he’d fucked Nadya. And Fifi. And Onyx. All of whom he’d stupidly allowed to join him on his search for Trinity.

  But he wasn’t too happy with her either. It seemed a little hypocritical of her to be holding a grudge against him when she’d gone and done the same damn thing.

  The last time Xan seen Trinity at camp in the Catskills, he’d been leaving on a supply raid with several other men. It was something they’d often done, had to do if they wanted to continue surviving. He’d left, lost nearly everyone in the raiding party, and had come home to an empty camp and a shit ton of fresh graves. By the time he and the other two survivors of the failed raid had met up with their clan, many more had died, including his mamă. Trinity had been taken by Gerik after his transformation, and so he’d assumed she had been with Gerik ever since.