Soul Thief (Dark Souls)

by Hope, Anne

“You couldn’t.”

  “What?”

  “Disappoint me.”

  Why wouldn’t he stop staring at her? And that lopsided grin that caused his cheek to dimple made her feel all warm and tingly inside, similar to the sensation she experienced when the elevator dropped too fast and her heart climbed into her throat.

  “Walk with me for a minute.” His request surprised her. She thought once he got her home, he’d disappear. Instead, he wanted to prolong their interlude.

  A smart woman would’ve refused, rushed into the building and locked herself in. Angie wasn’t particularly smart. At least not when it came to caution.

  Either that or he’d just screwed with her head, because nothing could’ve stopped her from following him.

  Central Park was deserted this early in the morning and offered the privacy he sought for the act he needed to perform. These old buildings often had doormen at the entrances, and Adrian wanted no witnesses.

  Leading her to the vast expanse of green a short distance away, he refused to admit he was making excuses, that maybe he wanted to prolong their time together, that perhaps he wasn’t ready to part with Angelica Paxton just yet. After a hundred and sixty-eight years of numbness and dangerous highs, he felt an odd kind of balance, torn between emotion and thought. Each pulled him in a different direction, clouding his mind and filling him with regret at what he was about to do.

  They walked along 79th Street, cut across a path flanked by towering trees, and went to stand on the edge of Turtle Pond. The early morning light cast a golden hue over the water, and newborn buds had fallen from the trees to blanket the surface.

  “Why did you bring me here?” she asked, her upturned face so gullible and trusting.

  It was a miracle she’d survived so long in this city. Instinct told him it was only a matter of time before the world opened up and swallowed her. The thought fired up all his protective instincts, and he fought the urge to remain right here by her side for as long as he could.

  “There’s one last thing I need to do.”

  The time had come to steal her memories by administering the kiss. Had he been less experienced, he would’ve hesitated. Kissing a human was dangerous, potentially deadly. But Adrian had honed his skills to perfection over the years, and he trusted himself to perform the task without harming her.

  He bracketed her face with his palms, his head falling forward. The wind rustled through the trees, sending a new wave of buds raining down on them.

  She watched him expectantly, and he swore he caught a glimmer of anticipation in her eyes. Her breath tickled his mouth, triggered a hunger deep within him—the hunger to taste and explore, to claim and entice. His body came alive, his pulse sprinting, his throat thickening, until he almost forgot what he’d come here to do.

  Steeling himself against the seductive feel of her, reminding himself that this kiss was nothing but a means to an end, his mouth swooped down and swallowed hers.

  Chapter Eight

  There are certain moments in life when time stands still. When every sound, every taste, every sensation is amplified. This was one of those moments for Angie. The wind caressing the trees became a tangible thing. The gentle sway of the water grew so loud, it clamored in her ears. The smell of grass intensified, as did the heavy musk of the pond. The ground beneath her hummed with energy, a current that snaked its way in from the soles of her feet and quickly spread to invade her limbs. Her mind grew fuzzy, her senses focused on one thing and one thing only, the point where Adrian’s lips touched hers.

  The warmth and softness of his mouth, the sweet taste of him, stole her breath and made her chest ache. Her heart grew so full, it pressed against her rib cage until she feared she’d burst. He tasted like spring. Like sunlight and rain, reviving what was once brown and withered.

  She felt reborn. Fresh and new and impossibly healthy.

  The rational side of her brain told her it was an illusion, a trick of the heart and mind. No simple kiss could accomplish all this. No simple kiss could make every inch of her skin pulse or cause her mind to go blank. No simple kiss could lift her worries, revitalize her and make the entire universe shrink until all that was left was this park, this pond and the canopy of trees beneath which they stood.

  She was trapped in a dream. Images flashed through her head, then faded to nothing. An army of expressionless drones closed in on her, then vanished. A man with ice-blue eyes whispered chilling secrets she strained to hear, right before he, too, disintegrated. Flying trains and constricting tunnels, a crowded street and an empty theater all melted away.

  A man now dominated her thoughts, tall and strong and as dark as the night. A man with a captivating gaze and a touch as gentle as an angel’s. A man whose kiss tasted like spring.

  His face dimmed to a shadow. For an instance it flickered, a sigh of hesitation, and she was filled with the saddest regret. Then he, too, faded in the harsh light of day.

  When Angie opened her eyes, she stood alone on the bank of Turtle Pond, shivering in the early morning breeze. She couldn’t recall how she’d gotten here, couldn’t explain why the last six hours of her life were a total blank or why her lips thrummed with the remnants of a forbidden kiss.

  It’s done then.

  Hiding behind a cloak of trees, Adrian watched Angie scan her surroundings, looking confused and disoriented. She rubbed her eyes, ran her fingers over her scalp as though searching for the telltale signs of a bump.

  Finding nothing, she shook her head and ambled toward the path that would lead her home. From a safe distance, he kept a vigilant eye on her until she disappeared into her building. Afterward, he watched her by tunneling his vision. Walls weren’t an obstacle for him any more than the human mind was.

  She greeted the guard, entered the elevator.

  Moments later, she emerged into her unit, which spanned the entire top floor of the building. The décor was ostentatious, elegant and stifling. He’d spent his entire existence collecting beautiful, expensive things, and if he’d learned anything, it was that material possessions could not fill the void inside you or banish the loneliness.

  Angie didn’t strike him as the materialistic type. This penthouse fit her about as much as that ridiculous designer purse had. He pictured her in a cozy flat, with sofas she could sink into, a stone fireplace decorated with a slew of tacky souvenirs, each made special by the memory it carried, and windows draped with sheer curtains that allowed the light to spill in.

  The kiss they’d shared had granted him access not only to her mind but to her soul, and he knew her now. Knew her better than he knew himself. Angie was straightforward and warm, with an inner light that labored to chase away a persistent fog.

  He had to protect that light, to keep Kyros from extinguishing it. He may have thrown his uncle off her trail, but the reprieve was temporary. There was nothing stopping Kyros from tracking her now that he’d gotten a whiff of her unique scent.

  Angie was far from safe…unless someone cloaked her. As far as he knew, only two creatures were capable of that: Athanatos, King of the Kleptopsychs, and Cal, leader of the Watchers. Since approaching Athanatos would mean instant death, Cal was his only option.

  But getting to the man was no easy task. Cal hid in a virtual fortress, reinforced with numerous shields designed to keep his enemies out. He rarely ventured out into the field, and when he did, he was usually surrounded by an army of dedicated soldiers. Soldiers who’d cut Adrian down as soon as look at him.

  There was only one way to approach the Watchers’ elusive leader. Adrian had to appeal to his long-lost father for help. Marcus was not only a Watcher but a tracker. It wouldn’t be difficult for Adrian to lure him to some remote location for a heart-to-heart chat. The true challenge would be keeping dear-old Dad from killing him long enough to hear him out.

  Chapter Nine

  It wasn’t hard for Adrian to set the scene. The backstreets of East Harlem made for a compelling stage, and the numerous gangs that popula
ted the area served as the perfect cast. Enough negative energy tainted the atmosphere to make Adrian’s presence almost superfluous. Gang fights broke out each and every day here, with no help from him.

  Still, he had to leave traces of his energy behind in order to draw his father to him. Adrian found the ideal vantage point within the concealing walls of an abandoned gas station. There, he allowed his dark energy to contaminate the breeze and infect the humans prowling the streets.

  It didn’t take long for the gang members to succumb to Adrian’s dark influence, and a violent turf war broke out. Shots were fired, nasty-looking blades sliced the air and angry screams shattered any illusion of peace.

  Satisfied, Adrian retreated into the gas station to await Marcus’s arrival. The Watcher didn’t disappoint. He came within the hour, accompanied by a gorgeous redhead, and took in the scene with an expression of aloof curiosity.

  “Who do you think caused this?” the redhead asked. “The Kleptopsychs or the Rogues?”

  Marcus’s features hardened to stone, a dead giveaway that the man had sensed Adrian’s presence. “Neither,” he lied. “My guess is that this is just your everyday, run-of-the-mill gang fight.”

  The redhead didn’t look convinced. “Are you sure? I could’ve sworn I felt a trace of dark energy in the air.”

  In the distance, sirens wailed, fast approaching. “The cops are coming,” Marcus said to his partner. “You should head back.”

  “What about you?”

  The Watcher’s glance briefly flitted to the gas station within which Adrian hid. “I’ll be right behind you. There’s something I need to check out first.”

  The redhead frowned. “I can come with you, back you up—”

  “That’s not necessary. Cal’s waiting for an update. Might as well hurry and give it to him. Lord knows you’re much faster than I am.”

  She hesitated, sighed. “Fine. Have it your way.” Before Adrian could blink, the woman vanished into thin air.

  “You can come out now.” Marcus’s words cleaved the day with the sharpness of a freshly polished blade.

  Adrian tamped down the impulse to flee—an impulse ingrained in him after nearly two lifetimes of being on the run—and stepped from the shadows to bathe in a pool of gray, tremulous light.

  “It wasn’t very smart of you to stick around.” Marcus rounded on him as the sirens drew closer. “I thought you were better than this.”

  “I needed to speak to you. This was the best I could come up with.”

  Marcus unsheathed his dagger. The silver blade caught the sunlight, glinting with the lethal sheen of angel’s blood. “And what makes you think I won’t strike you down where you stand?”

  “It’s a risk I had to take.”

  Interest flashed in the Watcher’s eyes. “Rogues don’t take risks. All they care about is feeding their dark urges and safeguarding their own damn hides.”

  Adrian swallowed his inhibitions and approached the man who’d fathered him—a Hybrid who’d had the misfortune of mating with Kyros’s sister and who just happened to be Adrian’s greatest enemy. After sweet Uncle Kyros, of course. “I’m not your typical Rogue.”

  Marcus’s patience was wearing thin. “If you have something to say, go ahead and say it before I’m tempted to use this.” He indicated his dagger with unmasked menace.

  “I need a favor, and as luck would have it, you’re the only one I can turn to.”

  Surprise had Marcus lowering his weapon. “And what makes you think I’d help a Rogue?”

  “Because everything you know about me is based on false assumptions, and I’m about to set you straight.”

  His father laughed. “Fine, I’ll humor you. How are you planning on setting me straight?”

  “Not here. The cops are only a couple of blocks away.” Guiding Marcus down a dark alley, Adrian led him to a series of abandoned buildings, within which they could speak in peace. Once safely removed from the scene of the crime, Adrian braced himself for the other man’s reaction to what he was about to tell him.

  Marcus had spent nearly two centuries believing Adrian’s soul was dead, his conscience nonexistent. It was the only way the man could justify hunting his own son down like some rabid animal. To reveal the truth to him now seemed almost a cruelty. But Angie’s safety depended on it.

  “I haven’t been entirely honest with you.” Adrian was well aware that once Marcus learned the truth, the Watchers would stop at nothing to recruit him. The last thing he needed was Cal and his faithful brethren hounding him endlessly to join their crusade, but he’d run out of options. Marcus would never agree to help him unless he knew everything.

  Adrian drew a mouthful of polluted air into his lungs. Air that felt thick and grimy and was peppered with the bitter taste of neglect. “My soul still lives, and I’ve found it.”

  The shock that glazed Marcus’s features was almost worth the risk of fatal injury. Marcus wasn’t usually one to miss these things. He was at the helm of Cal’s recruitment program. It was his job to identify Hybrids and have them join the Watchers before they gave in to their dark nature and went rogue. The fact that he’d failed to identify his own son as a potential recruit must have dealt a serious blow to his ego. The Watchers needed all the soldiers they could get in their fight to eradicate the Kleptopsychs and the Rogues.

  “You’re lying. Kyros stole your soul. I was there when it happened.”

  “Really?” Adrian challenged. “Did you actually witness the act or hear about it secondhand?”

  The color leached from Marcus’s face. “Kyros bragged about it. I thought—”

  “You didn’t think,” Adrian spat back. “You assumed.”

  The battle raging within Marcus was evident. As much as he wanted to believe his son wasn’t a total lost cause, another part of him had trouble shaking the misconceptions he’d harbored since the day of Adrian’s birth. “How?”

  “My soul escaped him. It was too powerful. Kyros couldn’t hold on to it. That’s why he’s been hunting me. I’m a living, breathing reminder of his greatest failure.”

  Marcus ran his wide palm over his face. He shook his head, even as he accepted what Adrian had just told him as truth. “This changes everything. You can come back with me, join the Watchers—”

  “That’s never going to happen.” Adrian had no intention of joining his father’s cause. He fought for no one, took orders from no one. “There’s too much water under the bridge. You know that.”

  “People can change.” Marcus pinned him with a meaningful stare. “You can change, like I did.”

  “I don’t want to change. I like my life just fine. All I have is my freedom, and I intend to keep it.”

  Disappointment could cut as deep as any blade, and Marcus’s broken expression was undeniable proof that he had fallen victim to it. “So why did you bring me here, if you don’t want to become one of us?”

  “I need Cal to cloak someone, a woman. Kyros is after her.”

  “Why?”

  “Because she’s the carrier.” Adrian’s hands fisted at his sides. The thought of Kyros hurting Angie tore angry strips in his gut. “My old soul lives within her, and all Kyros has ever wanted is to see it destroyed.”

  The overpowering desire to protect one’s errant soul was something Marcus understood well. Without a soul to anchor him, a Hybrid was no better than those of pure Nephilim blood—creatures with no conscience, who fed at will and spread corruption as easily as they breathed.

  Marcus’s interest was fully engaged now. “Who is she, the carrier?”

  “Her name is Angelica Paxton.” Adrian handed Marcus a piece of paper, upon which he’d scribbled her address. “She lives on the Upper East Side.” Marcus cocked a sardonic brow, and Adrian shrugged. “Don’t look so surprised. The rich have souls, too.” This was as close to friendly banter as he’d ever come with his father.

  Marcus pocketed the paper. “You know the best way to ensure Cal’s cooperation is for you to join our
ranks.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  The Watcher leveled an assessing stare on him. “Not even to save your soul?”

  Adrian didn’t answer, and an unsettling pause ensued.

  After what seemed like an eternity of silence, Marcus released a long string of air. “I’ll see what I can do.” His gaze took on the bleak quality of a midnight storm. “But I can’t make any promises.”

  Chapter Ten

  Angie decided to help out at the soup kitchen today, despite her pounding headache and the unsettling sensation that she’d forgotten something major. She’d had this type of feeling before, like the time she’d left her curling iron on or the time she’d neglected to lock the front door. But never before had it been so sharp, so persistent.

  She’d gotten home at six thirty that morning with no memory whatsoever as to what had transpired the night before. Exhaustion had clung heavily to her, and she’d fallen into bed and slept for hours. Her dreams had been restless, riddled with discordant images of a blade pressed to her throat, followed by flashing lights, flying subway cars and a dark-haired stranger she almost recognized.

  When she’d awakened, she’d been more confused than ever. She’d showered and dressed, then left for Reach. Before heading to the subway station, she’d stopped briefly by Turtle Pond. She’d stood on the bank, gazing at her shivering reflection in the water. Then something extraordinary had happened. The reflection in the pond had morphed to that of a man. The man she’d seen in her dream.

  Her dark angel.

  She didn’t know why she thought of him this way, but the name felt right.

  Now, hours later, she still couldn’t chase his compelling image from her head. It taunted her, made her skull ache and whispered of forbidden secrets.

  “Hey, lady, I’m waiting.”

  The words snapped her out of her daze. A brooding teen stood before her, indicating his empty bowl with an annoyed scowl. He wore a tattered pair of jeans and a Motley Crew T-shirt beneath a torn, washed-out jean jacket. His head was shaved, save for the Mohawk that ran down the middle of his skull like the angry bristles of a broom, and several metal studs pierced his left ear.