Soul Deep: Dark Souls, Book 2

by Anne Hope

  Well, she was dead wrong. Nobody was invincible. Even the immortal had weaknesses. Maybe they weren’t privy to old age, illness or disease, but they could die as surely as the humans did.

  His chest clutched at the thought. Regan was a pain in the ass, but he cared about her. He cared a hell of a lot. If anything happened to her, if he lost her…

  He couldn’t let his fears take over. He needed to think, damn it, to act. Tunneling his vision, he explored ducts and vents, searching for spaces in the walls, anything that might provide access to the sealed room. He dissected the area, scrutinized every nut and bolt.

  An abandoned shaft caught his attention. From the looks of it, the shaft had once housed a service elevator that ran parallel to the room he wanted to breach. If he could gain access to it from the floor below and make his way up, he would find himself one wall away from Regan. With any luck, the opening still existed. If not, he’d have to carve one out himself.

  Next to the emergency exit, an ax lay suspended in a metal case. Marcus shattered the glass and retrieved the weapon right before he sprinted down the stairs. Within seconds, he located the service elevator and pried the doors open. His heart drumming a thousand beats a minute, he hopped onto the metal ladder bolted to the wall on his left, tightened his grip on the ax and began to scale the shaft.

  Humidity tainted the air, and a slimy sheen clung to the walls. Steel beams and metal cords surrounded him, threatening to slither to life at any moment. All was dead silent, except for a whispering hiss high above him.

  The sound was chillingly familiar and could only mean one thing.

  Somewhere not too far away, the building had sprung a leak.

  Terror seeped into the marrow of Regan’s bones, freezing her where she stood. The water level rose steadily, gushing faster and faster until she was waist-deep in it. Chills racked her body, and she stifled a sob. She didn’t crack under pressure easily, but right now, she was freaking losing it.

  Death surrounded her. She labored to free the people on the gurneys, but try as she might she couldn’t open the capsules. They seemed airtight, designed to prevent any light from escaping the evil-assed machine they were attached to. She had no choice but to stand by and helplessly watch as every last drop of the people’s essences was sucked into the huge pulsing globe dominating the room.

  Now the water was coming for her, sliding cool, slimy fingers over her abdomen, doggedly creeping toward her chest. Shaking herself out of her stupor, she fought the sapping cold and began feeling the walls for something, anything, she could use to gain her freedom.

  She couldn’t die yet. Not before she was sure Ben was safe. Not before she told Marcus what was in her heart. Not before she’d experienced his hot, sweet kiss one more time.

  Right there and then, she made a promise to herself. If she got out of this, she swore she’d listen to Marcus from now on. She’d allow him to watch her back the way she watched his. No more reckless moves. No more taking on the world on her own.

  Someone must’ve heard her prayers and answered them, because her fingers felt an indentation in the steel, a sign that the wall behind it was hollow. She pushed a metal rack out of the way, sending an assembly of jars and petri dishes floating in the wet pool around her. A five-by-eight groove dented the wall where the rack had once stood.

  She punched at the sheet of metal, hoping to puncture it, but she was too weak. The frigid water increasingly sapped her strength. Scanning the room, she searched for something she could use to pierce the steel and claw her way out, found nothing but useless lab instruments and an assembly of glass vials and plastic syringes.

  “Regan? You in there?”

  She nearly cried at the sound of Marcus’s voice. “I’m here. But Diane is flooding the place. The metal, it’s a shield—” A shiver cut off her next words. “Can’t teleport out.” She had so much to tell him and nearly no time left.

  The water rose rapidly, brushing frozen fingers across her neck and silencing her as effectively as a blade.

  Marcus’s relief upon hearing Regan’s voice was quickly replaced by dread. Her speech was muffled, but he made out enough key words to understand what was going on—Diane, flooding, can’t teleport.

  He raised the ax, brought it down against the steel wall with all his might. The metal dented but didn’t rupture. Someone had gone through great pains to isolate this room, even barring access to the elevator with the help of several sheets of metal.

  “Regan, talk to me, baby. Stay with me.” The sudden silence cut him off at the knees, but he had to tamp down his fears and keep hammering at the wall, knowing full well that a waterfall waited on the other side, preparing to rush out and engulf him the moment he broke through.

  Memories surfaced, threatening to suffocate him. Memories of a copper tank boxing him in, of frozen water covering his mouth and nose, of an unforgiving weight pressing down on his lungs…

  Shoving the crippling thoughts back into that dark compartment in his mind, he kept pounding at the wall with the ax, delivering one violent blow after another. After several thunderous strikes, the metal finally yielded, and a hairline crack appeared. Instantly, water bled from the thin wound he’d carved in the wall.

  “Don’t die on me, Regan. Do you hear me?” He needed to know that she was all right, that life still pulsed in her veins. He needed to see her golden eyes fasten on to his and draw him into their honeyed depths. He needed to tell her just how much she meant to him, to let her know that if she was right and he truly did have a soul, the damn thing came alive each time she touched him, no matter how much he wanted to pretend that it didn’t.

  The metal shrieked, curling back into an inverted snarl, and a thin spray of liquid exploded across his face. “Hang on. I’m coming in.”

  Digging his fingers into the crevice, he peeled away whatever barrier remained between him and Regan and let the deluge swallow him.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Cold, wet palms slapped him as a river cascaded down the shaft. Marcus nearly lost his grip on the ladder. Releasing the ax, he clenched his fingers around one of the rungs and propelled himself into the forbidden room. The ax clanged as it plunged down the shaft, landing with a resounding bang. One he barely heard past the roar of the water, which still reached up to his chin, despite the fact that it was quickly ebbing away.

  Fighting an onslaught of chills, he waded through the inundated lab, his heart lodged somewhere between his collarbone and his throat, looking for Regan. When he failed to locate her, he realized he had no choice but to go under. It took a colossal amount of willpower to dive headfirst into the frozen pool, but somehow he found the strength to do it. The image of Regan’s sassy grin and glittering eyes remained etched in his mind, emboldening him.

  Dead bodies littered the ground, trapped within foggy blue capsules he would’ve expected to see in a sci-fi flick and not in an abandoned hospital in Portland. In the center of the room, a gigantic globe pulsated with light, as seductive as it was blinding.

  A leaden weight suddenly crushed Marcus’s lungs. Pain tore through him, made him wish he’d died in that tank all those years ago, made him want to succumb to the water now and let it do to him what it should have done nearly two centuries ago.

  At the heart of the room, floating lifelessly beside the sphere, was Regan. Wisps of red hair undulated around her, framing her pale face. Her body was as limp as a rag doll’s.

  Marcus broke through the surface and took a deep breath, his lungs shuddering from the impact. The water level steadily dropped to his waist as he plowed toward Regan. Within seconds he had her wrapped in his arms, her flaccid body cradled against his chest, her head hanging over his arm.

  “Regan?” He searched for a pulse, put his cheek against her mouth, waiting, hoping, to feel that telltale trickle of warm air upon his frozen flesh.

  Nothing. Agony slashed through him, and there was no longer any doubt in his mind as to his ability to feel. It took every ounce of strength
he had left not to crumple to his knees and weep.

  She was gone. He’d been too damn stubborn to tell her how much she mattered to him. Too damn stubborn to admit he loved her. Maybe if he had, she wouldn’t have left him behind.

  When the last of the water dribbled away, he stretched her out on the wet floor, kneeling beside her. His eyes rose to the heavens, but all he saw was that glowing sphere, the hypnotic light dancing within it. And then it struck him. He knew exactly what that energy was.

  That light had once been his damnation. Today, it would be his salvation.

  He’d sworn never again to ingest a soul, but like an addict unable to resist the pull of his dark habit, he rose and approached the globe. Within this sphere dwelled enough energy to heal the most persistent wound, maybe even enough energy to resuscitate Regan.

  But the only way to get that energy into her was to draw it into himself first. The idea of experiencing that vicarious thrill, of feeling the combined force of numerous souls writhing within him even for a moment, terrified him.

  The thought of living without Regan terrified him more.

  He wished he hadn’t dropped the ax. Then he realized he didn’t need it. He found an escape hatch and used it to open the contraption, allowing the light to stream out around him. Its delicious heat, its bright alluring power called to the darkness within him. For the first time in almost two hundred years Marcus set the beast inside him free, willingly succumbed to it. The souls moved toward him, rocketing into him, shaking him to the core.

  An ancient greed sprouted in his gut. Everything inside him screamed to hold on to the light, to let it invade his system and intoxicate him. Similar to a drunk tasting his first drop of alcohol after years of sobriety, he hungered for more.

  But he was stronger now than he’d been when he’d first turned, and he fought this visceral response, fought his very nature, and returned to Regan’s side. She’d probably hate him for doing this. Regan was one of the few among the Watchers who’d never ingested a soul. She was as pure as they came, and he was about to corrupt her.

  Funny thing was, he didn’t care. All he cared about was seeing her open her eyes again.

  Gripping her hair, he angled her head and brought his mouth down on hers. Her lips were stiff and cold, nothing like the velvet heat he remembered. Prying them open with his tongue, he breathed the life-forces into her. Energy gushed from him into Regan, crackling with electricity.

  Please let this work. He wasn’t sure if his plea was directed at an absentee God or the universe in general.

  Probably the universe. Even if God could hear him, He had no use for his kind.

  Remnants of the souls he’d swallowed still thrummed inside him, only sharpening his desperation and anguish. Before he could stop it, a tortured sob tore loose from his chest. “Come on, Regan. Come back to me. I can’t do this without you.”

  There was no guarantee the infusion of energy would work. Usually, once the heart stopped beating, it was too late for a soul to make a difference. But this wasn’t just one soul, he reminded himself, stubbornly clinging to hope. The energy he’d breathed into her was that of a multitude, as concentrated and powerful as it came.

  After what seemed like an eternity of stillness, Regan bucked and gasped, water spilling from her mouth. Marcus’s relief was so sharp, it sliced him in half. He collapsed beside her, unsure if the sound that issued from his throat was laughter or another sob.

  Finally, he could breathe again.

  Her skin was so pale it looked almost translucent. Her lips had taken on a grayish-blue tint, and dark circles framed her eyes. Her breathing was fast and shallow, the expression on her face both bewildered and wild, but she was alive.

  “I feel strange,” she rasped, springing to a sitting position, her hands fisted at her sides. Small mewling sounds echoed from her throat with each rise and fall of her chest.

  So many souls running rampant through her system were sure to have an impact on her emotions. He gathered her in his arms and rose to his feet, his own emotions in a tailspin. He felt totally used, beaten and haggard, but invigorated at the same time.

  Regan was alive.

  She nestled her cheek against his chest as he carried her to the elevator shaft. Ignoring the ladder, he tightened his hold on her and jumped down four stories. He needed to get her to safety, then come back and torch the place.

  He hoped Kyros was in the building. Not that the flames would damage him, but the mere thought of him witnessing his precious lab burn filled him with vicious pleasure. This wasn’t over. Not by a long shot. One day soon the firstborn would get what was coming to him. Marcus would make sure of it.

  A great ball of fire lit the sky, pushing at the borders of twilight. Once again, the waterfront bustled with activity, as policemen and firefighters alike fought to contain the blaze. But Jace knew there would be no saving the building. Not this time.

  “It looks like Regan and Marcus accomplished their goal.” A note of sadness strained Lia’s voice. Unlike the rest of them, she was inextricably linked to this building. It was a huge part of her past, and now—like everything else that had once shaped her existence—it was being reduced to ash right before her eyes.

  “How are you handling this?”

  Flames danced in her clear blue gaze. “It had to be done. I know that.”

  Jace understood that knowing something and accepting it were two very different things. He didn’t have to read her mind to see that her heart was breaking as she watched yet another fragment of her past burn away.

  “I’m glad we saved those people,” she said. “I’m glad we shut down Kyros’s twisted operation. As for the hospital, it’s been dead for months. It’s about time we buried it.”

  Same as attending a funeral, maybe this would finally provide her with the closure she needed to move on.

  She reached for his hand, giving it an affectionate squeeze. “I’ve got you. That’s all that matters.”

  “Yeah, but what about Regan? Who does she have? She’s been cut off from everything she knows, everything she loves.” If only he’d made it back in time to see his mother again, to convince her to return to Cascade Head, or at the very least let him help her.

  Lia gave him a knowing smile. “She’s got Marcus.”

  Her insinuation struck him dumb. Regan and Marcus? No way. If Marcus and his mother hooked up, that would make the guy his stepdad. He nearly gagged at the thought. “You’re joking, right?”

  “Didn’t you see the way he looked at her? Didn’t you feel the tension between them? It was thick enough to slice.” She gave his cheek a humorous, if not patronizing, pat. “Like it or not, something’s changed between them.”

  Jace gazed over Lia’s head at the sputtering flames, watching as the firefighters doused them with water. A thick cloud of smoke rose to darken the sky, as gray as his mood. “I should’ve killed the guy back when I had the chance,” he growled. “One thing’s for sure. I’ll cut my tongue out before I call him Dad.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  By the time Marcus and Regan approached the townhouse development, it was nearly midnight, so they agreed to let Ben spend the night at Adrian’s. They hadn’t spoken much during the long drive back. The combined power of the numerous souls they’d ingested still raged through their systems, and they were both drunk with emotion.

  The soft susurration of the car rocketing forward lulled them into a quiescence that was too ripe with tension to be considered peaceful. Trapped within their individual thoughts, neither dared break the uncomfortable silence.

  Every so often Marcus allowed his gaze to wander Regan’s way, seized by the overwhelming urge to pull onto the shoulder and hold her, if only to reassure himself she was all right. The sight of her lifeless body lying limp in his arms was one he wouldn’t soon forget. It haunted him, tormented him and persistently scratched at an old memory. That crazy sense of déjà vu came upon him again, as though she’d died in his arms before, as though
today wasn’t the first time he’d seen the light leave her eyes and felt his heart shatter into a million irretrievable fragments.

  Silly musings, nothing more. Her death had shaken him, as had the souls he’d breathed in. They were planting ideas in his head, muddling his thoughts, playing havoc with his emotions. Being alone with her tonight was dangerous—he knew that—but he longed for it with a hunger that frightened him. His need for her was a blazing ache in his blood, and the more he tried to extinguish it, the hotter it burned.

  He parked the Tahoe in front of the townhouse they were temporarily occupying and exited the vehicle, aware of Regan’s every move, her every breath and sigh. His senses were so damn sharp, they were driving him crazy. Her unique scent taunted him, tightening the strange sensation in his chest. Her breathing roared in his ears, constantly drawing his attention to her fascinating mouth. Every time she directed her gaze his way, a slow, aching burn raced over his skin.

  Most disturbing of all was the fact that he kept imagining her naked, spread on the bed beneath him, her smoky eyes trained on his face as he made love to her. Yesterday, the mere thought of being with Regan had filled him with the overpowering desire to flee. Tonight, it sent an electric thrill skittering along his nerve endings and made him yearn to race into the house, where he could claim her as his.

  They entered the townhouse in strained silence. Despite everything they’d been through these past few hours, an unsettling distance divided them, one Regan stubbornly fought to preserve. Her unwillingness to speak to him worried him. He needed to know what was going on in her head.

  Arms crossed protectively over her chest, she dragged herself to the living room, where she stood by the windows gazing at the thin sliver of moon. The darkness was deep tonight, almost absolute. Still, a faint silver sheen enveloped her, making her look as insubstantial as a ghost.