Soul Thief (Dark Souls)

by Hope, Anne

  Even though he’d been expecting the heated rush of sensation that claimed him, it still took him by surprise, nearly freeing the animal he fought so hard to cage.

  He felt everything she did—her eagerness, her desire, her sense of wonder. It was like making love for the first time, and the last. Nothing existed but the two of them and this one electrifying moment. If the world continued to turn around them, Adrian wasn’t aware of it, nor did he care.

  She was doing this, he realized. In her mind, she was stopping time and trapping him there with her. It was as though they existed on a different plane altogether.

  His heartbeat—or was it hers?—pounded in his chest, his head, his limbs. Every nerve ending in his body vibrated with energy. Never before had he felt so alive.

  “Adrian.” Her fingernails dug into his back. Her legs looped around his hips, pulling him deeper. “What’s happening?”

  She was breathless, as frightened and amazed as he was. Even if he knew the answer, he couldn’t have uttered a word. His voice was buried beneath the weight of everything he was feeling.

  Pleasure exploded within her, eliciting a similar response in him. Their minds were so intricately linked, they were like one person. They rode the tide together, clutching each other, as violent need gave way to electric bliss.

  When it was over, he collapsed on top of her, his skin thrumming. He couldn’t speak. All he could do was hold her. After a few steadying breaths, he finally found the strength to lift himself up and gaze down at her, and what he saw froze him solid.

  Her face was streaked with tears.

  Guilt slammed into him. Running brutal fingers through his hair, he cursed himself for his carelessness. “Did I hurt you?”

  She shook her head, swiped at her damp eyes. “No. You did something far worse.”

  Everything inside him shriveled at the tortured look she gave him.

  “You showed me what it feels like to be alive. Now I want to live. I want to live so bad it hurts.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  They spent the morning and most of the afternoon together. They ate lunch by candlelight, kissed beneath the soft glow of flickering chandeliers and made love to the low purr of the trains passing overhead. Way down here, cocooned in Adrian’s arms, it was all too easy to forget that a world existed outside this place, that time continued to inch forward, that hordes of people bustled in the city above.

  Angie felt like she was lost in a dream.

  And like all dreams, it couldn’t last. Eventually, she had to wake up. “We have to get back to Reach,” she whispered against his bare shoulder. “They’ll be wondering what happened to us.”

  “Let them.” He nuzzled her neck, planted a featherlight kiss in the hollow of her throat.

  “I can’t. I’m supposed to work at the soup kitchen tonight. They need me.”

  His disgruntled sigh tickled her flesh. “Are you sure there’s nothing I can do to change your mind?”

  Before she could stifle it, a girlish giggle escaped her lips. How did he always manage to make her feel so giddy? She placed her palm on the hard wall of his chest. He had a beautiful chest, smooth and bronze and carved in all the right places. She was tempted to trace the muscular ridges that spanned his torso, but she fought the urge, pushing him away instead.

  “I need to get dressed.” She left him lying alone on the bed and hastened to put on her clothes.

  Once he realized she couldn’t be dissuaded, he stood and donned his clothing as well. “Come on. I’ll take you back. But if I had my way, I’d keep you down here forever.”

  “You know, some girls would think that was creepy,” she teased.

  “Do you?”

  She was tempted to have a little fun with him, but the deadpan expression on his face stopped her. He looked so intense, so troubled, her heart squeezed in response. “I’m not afraid of you, Adrian,” she reassured him. “In fact, I’ve never felt safer.”

  The tension leached from his shoulders, and a hesitant grin tugged at his mouth, dimpling his cheek. Angie’s pulse fluttered out of control. How could a man look so darn cute and so frigging sexy at the same time?

  He took her hand, and that familiar warmth traveled through her, making her blood hum. As they walked toward the steel staircase that would lead them back to the surface, Angie angled a final glance at Adrian’s home. She wanted to commit this place to memory, to bury the image deep inside her, in case she never got to see it again.

  She was still gazing over her shoulder when the heavy door clanged shut behind her, blocking Adrian’s haven from her view.

  Something was wrong. Adrian felt it in his bones the second they exited the subway station. Dark energy contaminated the atmosphere, warning him that they should steer clear of Reach and its surrounding areas.

  Stopping abruptly, he seized Angie’s arm. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to volunteer today.”

  She slanted a confused glance his way. “Why not?”

  “Not sure. Something doesn’t feel right.” He concentrated, tunneling his vision to see what had set his teeth on edge.

  As he’d suspected, the halfway house was in a state of absolute chaos. The entire street had been sealed off, and a handful of police cruisers and news vans bordered the sidewalk. “We need to get out of here.”

  “What? Why?”

  “There’s some kind of crisis at the halfway house. The place is crawling with cops.”

  Confusion creased her brows. “How do you know?”

  “There’s no time to explain. I have to get you home, where you’ll be safe.”

  Angie pulled herself free. “No. If something’s happened at Reach, I’ve got to be there. Maybe I can help.”

  “Are you out of your mind?” He fought the urge to shake some sense into her. For a woman who insisted she wanted to live, she sure did everything in her goddamn power to get herself killed. “Listen, I don’t have time to argue with you right now. I’m too busy trying to keep you alive. So either you come with me or I’ll toss you over my shoulder again. Your choice.”

  Fire briefly flashed in her eyes. Then, to Adrian’s relief, the fight went out of her, and she willingly followed him back into the subway station.

  When they reached her place, Adrian didn’t drop her off across the street as he usually did. He walked with her through the canopied entrance, fully intending to escort her to her unit.

  Angie stopped short of entering the building. “My mother might be home.”

  “I don’t care. I’m coming up.”

  She studied him for a few seconds, hesitating. Then, realizing no amount of arguing would make him back down, she finally relented and walked through the front door.

  “Good afternoon, Miss Paxton,” the doorman greeted. “Your mother left about an hour ago. She asked me to tell you she won’t be back in time for supper, but she left a pan of lasagna in the oven for you.”

  “Thank you, Henry.”

  The relief on Angie’s face lasted only about as long as it took for Henry’s curious gaze to settle on Adrian. No doubt the man would report Adrian’s presence to Angie’s mother first chance he got, something Angie didn’t look too thrilled about.

  Concentrating, Adrian snaked his way into the doorman’s mind. “I was never here.”

  Instantly, Henry grew blind to his presence. For the next few minutes, Adrian might as well have been a ghost only Angie could see. Thankfully, she didn’t attempt to speak to him while she was conversing with the doorman, or the guy may have thought her insane.

  “What did you do to Henry?” she asked him moments later as they rode the elevator to the top floor. “He looked right through you.”

  “Didn’t I tell you? I can make myself invisible.”

  His attempt to lighten the mood failed. Angie continued to knead her fingers together in a way that threatened to peel the skin from her knuckles. The second they entered her penthouse, she made a beeline for the phone.

  After se
veral strained breaths, she slammed the receiver down in frustration. “There’s no answer at Reach.” She picked up the phone again and dialed another number, then huffed in defeat. “I need to know what’s going on.”

  A large television set dominated the wall on his right. Adrian cut across the living room and flicked it on, changing the channel until he landed on a local newscast. Angie came to stand beside him, her hand covering her mouth as she watched the drama unfolding at the halfway house.

  “What we have here is a hostage situation,” the newscaster was saying. “A boy, whose identity has yet to be revealed, is holding everyone inside the halfway house at gunpoint. Shots were fired, but the police have yet to determine if anyone has been injured or killed.”

  Several chaotic images followed, as cameramen attempted to capture the scene. “Police are trying to determine what triggered this attack. So far, the gunman hasn’t made any demands.”

  Angie dropped into the sable-colored leather couch. “I can’t believe this is happening.” She buried her face in her hands. “Who would do something like this?”

  Almost in answer to her question, a picture popped onto the screen. “We just got confirmation as to the identity of the gunman—Ricky Baxter, a fifteen-year-old runaway who was admitted to the halfway house only two weeks ago.”

  The color drained from Angie’s cheeks. “No way. That can’t be right. I know Ricky. He’s a good kid. He doesn’t even have a record.” She stood and began to stalk the room. “He’s got a smart mouth, and he doesn’t always make the right decisions, but he’s no cold-blooded murderer.”

  Adrian bridged the distance between them and gripped her by the shoulders, immobilizing her. “It’s not his fault. Someone put him up to this.” That would explain the dark energy he’d sensed around Reach, the foul aura tainting the breeze.

  “Who?”

  He captured her gaze with his. “Someone like me. That’s what my kind does.” Disgust unraveled within him. “We mess with people’s heads, bring out every violent tendency a person has.” Maybe Cal and the Watchers were right. Maybe his race truly was a plague that needed to be eradicated. “You said it yourself, Ricky is no cold-blooded killer.”

  Angie’s mouth slackened with understanding. “The Kleptopsychs did this to him?”

  “Most likely. Or it could be a Rogue attack. Damaged souls like Ricky are easy to control and manipulate.”

  She shook her head in shock. “Why? What could they possibly have to gain?”

  “Souls. Places like the halfway house are an ideal feeding ground.” Another possibility gnawed at him. If the Kleptopsychs were behind this, what were the chances that they’d attack the very place where Angie volunteered?

  He chased the disturbing thought from his mind. Angie was cloaked. There was no way Kyros could’ve tracked her. But he could’ve tracked Adrian.

  Stifling an oath, he ran rough fingers over his face. He’d known this would happen, had seen it coming. Why hadn’t he walked away when he had the chance? If he had, he wouldn’t have led his uncle straight to those people. He was to blame for this. All because he couldn’t leave well enough alone and stay away from Angie.

  If she’d gone to Reach as planned, she, too, would’ve been trapped within that building with a gun aimed at her head. His hands fisted at the thought. A burning sensation slid down his throat to sour his stomach.

  Angie returned to the couch, where she plopped down and stared at the screen again. “Tell me the truth. Can the police do anything to stop this?”

  “Short of shooting Ricky? No.”

  She raised her glittering gaze to his face. “But you can. You can get inside his head and break whatever trance he’s in.”

  He went to stand next to the couch. “Yes. But that would mean going down there, and I can’t leave you alone.”

  “I’m perfectly fine here. I swear to you, I won’t go anywhere near Reach.” She clutched his hands and pulled him down beside her. “You can’t let Ricky die. We’re the ones who convinced him to go to the halfway house.” Tears swam in her eyes. “We told him he’d be safe there.”

  “The Watchers will handle it.” At least, he hoped they would.

  “The Watchers?”

  “They’re Hybrids, like me. Their sole purpose in life is to protect humanity against my kind. They’re probably on their way to the halfway house as we speak.”

  “What if they don’t get there in time?” She squeezed his fingers, desperation pinching her features. “Reach is just a few subway stops from here. You could be there in no time.”

  Conflicting emotions dueled within him. Selfishness and fear compelled him to remain at Angie’s side, but the idea of Ricky getting gunned down carved a nasty hole in his gut. Life had been so much simpler back when he hadn’t had direct access to his conscience. Now, the damn thing wouldn’t give him a moment’s peace.

  “You promise you won’t leave this penthouse?”

  She nodded so hard, her hair bounced around her pale face. “Cross my heart.”

  He glanced at the television set. An image of the cops, their guns aimed at the windows of the halfway house, filled the screen. They were waiting for a clear shot.

  If Adrian was going to do this, he had to move. Now.

  “Ah, hell.” He vaulted to his feet. “Stay put. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The halfway house was nearly impossible to breach, with cops guarding the perimeter, police cruisers blocking the street and swarms of reporters crowding in to get the scoop. Had Adrian been human, he never would’ve made it anywhere near Ricky or the hostages. Thankfully, his ability to mold people’s minds to his will granted him clear passage.

  When he was done, no one remembered a man with a leather jacket weaving his way through the crowd and sliding, imperceptibly, through a side door. The greatest challenge had been avoiding the cameras.

  Once inside, he hastened to the cafeteria, where Ricky held the prisoners at gunpoint.

  “Adrian.” Eddie carefully sidled up beside him. “Ricky’s lost his mind. He’s threatening to shoot people. Not sure where he got the rifle.”

  “I’ll handle it,” he told Eddie, his gaze trained on the gunman.

  Just then, Ricky noticed them whispering by the door and aimed the semiautomatic in their direction. Adrian didn’t recognize the make of the rifle, but he knew it was of military caliber. How had a fifteen-year-old runaway gotten his hands on a weapon like that?

  “Put the gun down, Ricky.” He waited for the kid to comply. When Ricky failed to do so, Adrian realized whoever was pulling the boy’s strings was high on the power scale, perhaps even a firstborn.

  He bit back another curse. If he wasn’t convinced before, he was now. Kyros was behind this. There was no other explanation.

  “Shut up.” Ricky waved the rifle at him with manic intensity. “Get over there with the others.” He indicated the center of the room, where the hostages huddled together.

  Adrian held his ground. With a concentrated thought, he pushed his way into Ricky’s mind and tried to mend the broken links in the kid’s psyche. “You don’t want to do this, Ricky. You’re not to blame for any of this. A powerful force has taken hold of your mind. You need to fight it.”

  The boy shuddered. “What the hell are you talking about?” The rifle shook in his hand. “I told you to get over there.”

  “I know this sounds crazy, but someone’s playing you. He’s using you like a puppet. Don’t let him.”

  Briefly, the boy’s resolve faltered. “Is that why I’m seeing my old man everywhere?” A sob rattled in his chest.

  Adrian took advantage of the opportunity and inched toward him.

  If Ricky noticed, he didn’t let on. “He’s over there.” He pointed to a kid with a Mohawk. “And over there.” He indicated Eddie. “And there.” He aimed the gun at a female volunteer crouching by the soup counter, crying.

  The second the gun settled on her, the sensel
ess woman panicked. With a high-pitched scream, she shot to her feet and attempted to flee. Ricky reacted by pulling the trigger.

  Adrian rushed to push her out of the way, but Eddie was closer. Determined to play hero, the unseasoned Hybrid threw himself in front of the woman, taking the bullet between the ribs. Adrian leapt forward and caught Eddie before he struck the ground, but he was too late. The bullet had penetrated the kid’s heart, killing him on impact.

  A shimmering white light rose from Eddie’s body and angled toward Adrian, drawn to the darkness inside him. Adrian used every ounce of self-control he possessed to repel it. He couldn’t ingest Eddie’s soul. If he did, he’d extinguish it, and Eddie would be lost. Instead, he watched as the brilliant mass of light floated up to the ceiling, then disappeared altogether.

  Sadness laced with a sense of inevitability traveled through Adrian. Eddie’s transformation had begun, as had the greatest struggle of his life. Without someone to guide him, the kid could go rogue, or worse, end up dead. For a Hybrid, the first death was a passage from one state of existence to another. The second, however, would be permanent.

  But Adrian couldn’t worry about that right now. He had more pressing matters to deal with. Like a trigger-happy fifteen-year-old runaway who was under the dark influence of a powerful firstborn.

  Vaulting to his feet, he rounded on Ricky, focusing all his mental energy on undoing Kyros’s hold on him. “Drop the gun.”

  Killing Eddie had shaken Ricky out of his stupor, and Kyros’s suggestion waned, then faded altogether. The boy dropped the rifle, trembling from the shock, his gaze riveted on Eddie’s lifeless body. “I— I— I killed him.” Panic edged into his voice. “Why did I kill him?” Tears carved two thick tracks down his cheeks. “I don’t understand.”

  Adrian couldn’t undo the past, but he could give the boy one final gift—oblivion. With a heavy-hearted sigh, he invaded Ricky’s mind and erased the last two hours from his memory. Temporary insanity would be his best defense. The boy would probably have to spend a few years in an institution, but eventually he’d get out. There was no need to burden him with guilt over a murder he hadn’t actually committed. Since Adrian couldn’t tell Ricky that Eddie wasn’t really dead, wiping his memory was the best he could do to spare the kid.