Soul Deep: Dark Souls, Book 2

by Anne Hope

She couldn’t take it anymore. Couldn’t take the emotions he elicited within her, the longing, the disappointment. “At the moment? You.” The need to flee suddenly blinded her. “I’m going to go check on Ben.”

  His gaze burned a hole in her back as she walked away from him. She felt his awkwardness and confusion. A confusion that sprang from his constant, unwavering battle to deny his humanity, even as he mourned its loss.

  Despite her better judgment, she halted in her steps and tossed a fleeting glance over her shoulder. “Did you ever stop to consider that maybe you’re not as soulless as you’ve always believed?” She shrugged noncommittally. “Just something to think about when you’re lying alone in bed at night.”

  Night finally fell, a dark curtain that served to conceal Kyros from an unsuspecting world. The vultures always came out after the sun set, circling the streets in search of fresh prey. Tonight, he was one of those creatures, only it wasn’t bloodlust that drove him. There was only one thing for which Kyros hungered—the very thing that had defined his father—power.

  Thanks to Cal and his Watchers, the Ancients were now nearly extinct. That left him next in line to inherit the world. A world he had every intention of owning. If his project proved successful, he would expand to every corner of the globe. He envisioned his farms everywhere, populated with thousands of souls just waiting to be harvested. But for his vision to materialize, he needed to increase his number of prisoners. Twelve couples weren’t sufficient. Especially when a disgusting percentage of them failed to conceive quickly enough to suit his timetable.

  He had high hopes for his embryo program, but it had yet to prove successful. If he could figure out a way to grow fetuses outside the womb, there would be no limit as to the amount of humans he could produce in a given year. He needed more time, state-of-the-art equipment and as many subjects as he could amass without raising a red flag. He’d already selected some random subjects for his extraction program, but more were required each and every day.

  Kyros parked his car in what he knew to be a shady part of downtown. Prowling sidewalks that were drenched in the sulfurous glow of streetlights, he did his best to look inconspicuous. Since the angel had cloaked him, he’d grown bolder. No longer did he have to dispatch the most expendable members of his army to hunt for souls. He could perform the enjoyable task himself, without fear of being discovered by the Watchers.

  With keen eyes, he examined his surroundings, looking for an acceptable candidate. An aging bum loitered on the corner, shaking a tin can at him, unruly tufts of gray hair spiking from his head. The smell of alcohol mingled with unwashed flesh, turning Kyros’s stomach.

  No one would miss this particular human if he went missing, but sadly he wouldn’t do. Not only was the vagrant too old for Kyros’s breeding program, but his essence was far too damaged, making him unsuitable for the extraction chamber as well.

  Something akin to awareness chased the fog from the bum’s gaze. “Are you one of them?”

  Kyros wanted to ignore the disgusting lump of useless flesh, but curiosity got the better of him. “One of whom?”

  “The monsters that took my wife from me.” The insanity returned to cloud his stare again. “They took her soul. They took it. Took it while I watched.” He shook the tin can violently. “Their eyes were just as dead as yours.”

  A tingle of unease sprouted at the base of Kyros’s spine. Surely, this broken excuse for a mortal couldn’t see the darkness inside him, the emptiness. “And they let you live?” He shouldn’t have humored the human, but he did so anyway. “Why?”

  The man was silent for an exceptionally long time. So long Kyros grew bored and nearly walked away. “Because,” he finally rasped, “when she died, any light there was inside me died with her.”

  A revolted smirk twisted Kyros’s features. Strange beings, these humans. Their souls were so powerful and yet so fragile. He understood why the bum had been spared. His life-force was so weak, it barely sputtered against the deepening night.

  Gladly leaving the vagrant to his misery, Kyros continued on his hunt. The streets bustled, set aglow by neon lights. Flashing blue, green and red bulbs painted colorful streaks across a velvet black sky. Inebriated humans spilled out of bars and clubs, retching, swaying, groping. Pathetic, all of them, no better than a group of pigs in a pen.

  “You look like you could use a little fun.” The breathy words were spoken over his shoulder, and it took a few moments for Kyros to realize they were meant for him.

  He turned to find a pretty young blonde, dressed in a skin-tight leather skirt and a halter top, standing behind him. She giggled through blood-red lips and rocked precariously on her feet, dangerously drunk or high.

  “Do you have anything particular in mind?” Kyros firmly believed that no opportunity should be allowed to slip by.

  “Maybe,” she trilled. “Why don’t we ask my friend over there?” She gestured toward another young woman with knee-high stiletto boots and a fake fur vest. The friend winked at him suggestively. Working girls, no doubt, looking for an easy mark.

  Kyros smiled, studying the prostitutes. They were the right age, probably on birth control, but that could be easily rectified. Usually he abducted his victims in pairs—one male and one female. Perhaps it was time to alter his strategy. He had enough studs at his disposal. It was broodmares he lacked.

  He flashed a broad smile, convinced the girl was too inebriated to notice that it didn’t reach his eyes. “That, my dear, is an excellent idea.”

  She giggled again and wound her arm around his, pressing her tight little body against the length of his side. Dark, conflicting hungers rose to the surface, fighting for dominance. He could so easily break the woman and her reckless friend, fuck them both, then steal the light from their eyes. Or he could use them for a far greater purpose. He found himself at a crossroads, forced to choose between brief, intense bliss and the fulfillment of his vision.

  The woman in the fur vest slunk toward them and wrapped herself around him in the most enticing manner. Her fingers fiddled with the buttons on his shirt, prying a few of them loose and letting her hand slide beneath the fabric to stroke his chest. “Is that your Mercedes over there?”

  He nodded.

  “Then why don’t we take a ride?” She scraped his nipple with her nail, sending a jolt of pure sexual pleasure ripping through him.

  Kyros nearly growled. His mind went blank, and the dark primitive needs he’d denied for centuries rose to engulf him. Only a fine thread separated the Kleptopsychs from the Rogues. A thread that required very little effort to snap.

  Still, if he could maintain control, there was no harm in having a little fun. His vision could wait another hour or two. He did have eternity on his side, after all.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “There was another attack last night.” Marcus approached the breakfast table, where Regan sat with Ben, and dropped the police report on the polished oak surface. “Feedings are escalating, and there isn’t a damn thing I can do about it.”

  She put her coffee mug down and briefly scanned the highly confidential police document. “How’d you get your hands on this?”

  “Eddie.”

  Her brows slanted upward. “Eddie?”

  “He’s a cop. Lives here in the development.” Marcus joined her and Ben at the table, his thoughts a thousand miles away. “He’s set up some kind of computer program that hacks into police and FBI databases, flagging crimes that appear Rogue- or Kleptopsych-related.”

  Ben crunched his cereal. “I met Eddie. I like him.”

  “Great. So now I’m the only one here who’s out of the loop.” Regan bristled. “Care to fill me in?”

  Something told him her disgruntled attitude had less to do with being kept in the dark and more to do with their heated conversation yesterday. Not that he understood why she’d gotten all hot under the collar. The only thing he could be accused of was being honest.

  “That’s what I’m trying to do.” H
e didn’t mean to sound irritated, but the woman had a knack for getting under his skin, which was no small feat given his muted emotions.

  Did you ever stop to consider that maybe you’re not as soulless as you’ve always believed? Those words had harassed him all night, had burrowed deep within him and found purchase within the very soul suddenly up for debate.

  He allowed his gaze to sweep over her. The act only spanned a heartbeat, but what he saw in that brief glance spoke volumes. Her features were pale and drawn, and darkened shadows fringed her eyes. She hadn’t gotten much sleep the previous night. He knew because he’d sensed her tossing and turning in the room beside his till dawn. His awareness of her had been so acute, he’d almost gotten up and gone to her. The urge to crawl into bed beside her had been a hot, painful blade twisting low in his abdomen.

  He cleared his throat, focused his full attention on the matter at hand. “The body was discovered this morning.” Marcus aimed an uncertain look Ben’s way, unsure how much he should reveal in front of the boy.

  Regan noted his reluctance. “Looks like you’re just about done with that cereal,” she told Ben. “Why don’t you toss the bowl in the sink and go finish that drawing you’re making for Adrian?”

  Excitement lit up the kid’s face. “If I do, can I go over to his house again today?”

  She hesitated, her mistrust for Adrian battling with her desire not to disappoint Ben. “We’ll see.” A frown lined her forehead. “What is it about him you like so much?”

  The boy hitched his shoulders. “He’s fun, like an older brother or something.”

  A defeated sigh escaped her lips. “Can’t argue with that, I guess. Now scoot. Marcus and I have some boring grownup stuff to discuss.” She reached out and tickled him, and Ben fled the kitchen with a loud shriek.

  “He’s looking a lot happier,” Marcus observed.

  Regan secured a stray curl behind her ear. “I hate to admit it, but it’s your son’s doing. He’s got a gift. Considering what he is, that’s a goddamn miracle.”

  She was right. Adrian should’ve brought out the worst in people. Instead, he fueled the light by banishing fear and doubt. “Maybe there’s more angel in him than the rest of us,” he mused.

  “Or maybe he’s just learned to accept the part of him that was once human.” Her sparkling gaze locked on to his, brimming with meaning.

  Marcus looked away. He had to. Withdrawing the photographs from the police file Eddie had given him, he settled back in his chair to study them. Emaciated limbs protruded from a skeletal female body swaddled in a fur vest. Her skin displayed the greenish tint of death and her eyes—once the windows to her soul—were black and empty.

  He sent the snapshots gliding across the tabletop toward Regan. “What do you make of these?”

  Regan stared at the shriveled carcass, her expression ripe with disgust. “Looks like a Rogue killing. Who was the victim?”

  “A prostitute. A witness claims she saw the victim get into a silver Mercedes with some guy and another woman.”

  A hollow chuckle resonated from her chest. “Rogues who like to travel in style apparently.”

  He leafed through the report, halting when he came across a blurry photograph taken from a street cam. The image was grainy at best, the man only a shadowy silhouette in the encroaching blackness, but Marcus would’ve recognized him anywhere. “Or a firstborn drunk on his own power.” One who was testing the boundaries, precariously walking the tenuous line that had always distinguished the Kleptopsychs from the Rogues. Without Athanatos to lay the ground rules, it was open season out there.

  He passed the photo to Regan, who scrunched her face up in uncertainty. “You sure it’s Kyros? It’s kinda hard to tell from this snapshot.”

  Marcus studied the male figure, noted the arrogant tilt of his head, the thick crop of shoulder-length black hair, and resolve hardened in that toxic place within him where his guilt and hatred lay buried. “There’s only one way to know for sure. I need to visit the crime scene.”

  Regan eyed him incredulously. “Are you out of your mind? Cal and the Watchers are going to be all over this one.”

  He gripped her hand, and the energy he fought so hard to ignore surged between them again, but he didn’t let go. “I have to do this, Regan. It’s important.”

  Gentle acquiescence smoothed out her features even as determination hardened in her eyes. “Fine. But I’m coming with you.”

  Marcus opened his mouth to protest, but she pressed her finger to his lips. “If you think I’m going to let you do this alone, you’re crazier than I thought.” She withdrew her hand, and cold air swept in to replace the blistering warmth of her touch. “Looks like Ben’s going to get his wish, after all.”

  Kyros’s quarters at the bunker consisted of a twelve-by-twelve cement cell equipped with a tattered old mattress, the putrid green armchair upon which he now sat, and a wooden cocktail table that had definitely seen better days. It was hardly a room fit for a king. Now that he could no longer be tracked, perhaps it was time for an upgrade. He could rent the presidential suite at one of Oregon’s finer hotels or a penthouse in Portland’s bustling downtown area.

  Better yet, he could acquire a mansion in Lincoln City, mere miles from Cascade Head, where the Watchers’ complex was located. The facility was hidden from view, not to mention impossible to breach, thanks to Cal’s protective shields, but Kyros knew it was there, having escaped from within its steel walls only months ago.

  The irony of living a life of luxury right under Cal’s nose pleased him tremendously. He wondered whether the Watchers’ leader had uncovered the message he’d left for him last night.

  At first the hooker’s death had seemed like an unfortunate setback, despite the temporary thrill it had provided. Then Kyros had decided to turn the calamitous event into an opportunity to show the Watchers exactly how fearless and untouchable he’d become. The younger of the two prostitutes had survived, so he’d delivered her to the farm, where Diane could promptly see to her impregnation. All in all, things had worked out splendidly.

  A hairline crack rent the atmosphere, jolting Kyros from his pleasant musings. Micah stood at the heart of the dingy room, looking as fierce as the avenging angel he was. “You shortsighted, witless fool. Whatever possessed you to pull that stupid little stunt last night?”

  Kyros rose to his full height of almost seven feet, shoulders squared, chin angled defiantly. Angel or not, no one had the right to insult him or speak to him in that contemptuous tone. “What I do in my spare time is none of your concern.”

  Micah ignored the dark warning Kyros infused in his voice. “Answer my question. Why did you kill that woman, then leave her there in plain sight? Do you not know the kind of mass panic something like this could cause? If the humans learn of your existence—”

  “I am sick and tired of being confined to the shadows, of living in dank spaces while humans bask in luxuries they don’t deserve. And you, Micah, are in no position to talk, seeing as you ordered the execution of thousands of humans only days ago.”

  “That was a means to an end, part of the overall plan. What you did was senseless slaughter. You’ve changed the chain of events. Now the plan I’ve worked so hard to put into motion is in jeopardy.”

  Kyros circled his new business associate, scrutinizing him with the wariness of a deer in the presence of a hungry lion. “And what plan might that be?”

  A calculating gleam came into the angel’s eyes. “To empower you beyond your wildest imaginings.”

  That was the last thing Kyros had expected him to say. Interest dueled with mistrust, stiffening his spine. “How so?”

  Micah’s voice reclaimed its conspiratorial quality. “What if I told you there’s a soul in circulation so potent, it could make you virtually invincible? If you were to acquire such a soul, you would be more powerful than your father. More powerful than all the Ancients combined.”

  Thin filaments of greed unraveled within Kyros. To posse
ss that kind of power, that kind of strength… The possibilities boggled the mind. Still, as appealing as the idea was, something elemental warned him Micah couldn’t be trusted. “Why are you telling me this? What is it you hope to gain?”

  “My plans are of no consequence to you. You are merely one small pawn in an elaborate chess game. You need only play your part and follow my commands unquestioningly. If you play your role to my satisfaction, then and only then will you be crowned king. Cross me again and I’ll feed you to the wolves. Understood?”

  Kyros hated being treated like a foot soldier. Even worse, he hated having a carrot dangled in front of his face only to have it snatched away. Still, if what Micah promised proved to be true, the reward would be well worth any slight he was forced to endure.

  Swallowing past the bitter lump of his pride, he nodded. With great effort, a single word escaped from between his clenched teeth. “Understood.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The crime scene turned out to be a ratty motel on the outskirts of town, where rooms were rented by the hour and no one bothered to ask for ID. Regan followed Marcus up a cracked walkway bordered by a lawn that was overgrown with weeds, to a door secured by reams of yellow tape. Reluctant to use their powers of suggestion for fear of being tracked, she and Marcus had waited for the authorities to vacate the premises before venturing onto the property, lying low in the old Chevy Tahoe they’d borrowed from Adrian. Regan had offered to teleport them here using her own personal brand of magic, but Marcus had been adamant about taking the truck, insisting that every time they used their special abilities they increased their risk of being found.

  Now, six hours later, they’d finally reached their destination.

  “Think they’ll come back?” she asked as they tore the tape warning them to stay out.

  “Eventually.” Marcus pried the door open, his expression as focused as it was grim. “With any luck, we’ll be done before they do.”