by Anne Hope
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Adrian welcomed Marcus into his home with his trademark nod. As usual, his expression was cool and unreadable.
“I’ve come for Ben,” Marcus said. “Is he up?”
Clad in a faded pair of black jeans and an old gray T-shirt, Adrian looked like your average guy spending a quiet day at home. But Marcus knew his son was anything but ordinary. Beneath that unruffled façade, a dark intensity crouched.
“Not yet.” Adrian ushered him into the foyer. “He had a rough night.”
“What happened?” Given the boy’s susceptibility to nightmares, Marcus wasn’t surprised. He hadn’t told Adrian about Ben’s visions. He figured the less Adrian knew, the better. But it seemed certain things were not that easy to keep secret.
“He went into some kind of trance, started scribbling gibberish. I tried to get him to snap out of it, but I couldn’t get through to him. It lasted about ten minutes. Then he collapsed on the bed and slept like the dead.” Adrian dug into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper, which he handed to Marcus. “Does this mean anything to you?”
Marcus studied the familiar symbols, penned in a childlike scrawl. He couldn’t read it, but he recognized the language. “Looks like Enochian script, the language of the angels.” Concern rippled through him. He would’ve given anything to decipher the message. “Could be another prophecy. Unfortunately, Cal’s the only one who can read it.”
Adrian didn’t bother to conceal his astonishment. “How does a seven-year-old, who barely knows how to spell his own name, suddenly start writing in Enochian script?”
Marcus hesitated, then decided to come clean with his son. Adrian was part of this now, whether he’d asked for it or not. “Cal suspects the kid is some kind of prophet.” Marcus folded the paper and slid it into the back pocket of his jeans. “His soul was forged by an archangel, which makes it pretty powerful. He can predict the future, make things happen with his mind. That’s why Cal considers him a threat, and why Kyros can’t be allowed anywhere near him.”
Adrian’s brows rode high on his forehead, a sardonic grin twisting his mouth. “Thank God I never joined the Watchers. The never-ending drama must be exhausting. Ever think of retiring?”
“Can’t retire from who you are,” Marcus voiced honestly. Being a Watcher was in his blood.
“So what kept you out all night?” Adrian asked, abruptly changing the subject.
“Regan and I—” he faltered. “We had some important business to take care of.”
Adrian didn’t miss the slight hitch in Marcus’s voice, and a knowing look flitted across his face. He studied Marcus with that probing gaze of his, until Marcus felt compelled to explain.
“We tracked Kyros to what used to be the Rivershore Hospital in Portland. Turns out he was using the building to farm humans. We managed to free his prisoners, ended up burning the place to the ground.”
“Not bad for a day’s work,” Adrian praised, but there was a mocking lilt to his voice. A smile ghosted over his mouth.
“What the hell are you grinning about?” Irritation flared within Marcus. “Check the news if you don’t believe me.”
“I never said I didn’t believe you. And I’ve already seen the news.”
Marcus ran rough fingers through his hair. He exhaled a long stream of air, fought to get his frustration under control. “Look, I don’t mean to take it out on you, but I’m a little on edge this morning.”
“I can see that. Do you want to tell me what’s really bothering you?”
He met his son’s keen stare. “I know you mean well, but I’m not in the mood for a heart-to-heart today.”
“Good, because I’m in no mood to play shrink again.” Adrian’s blunt words he could handle. It was the hint of humor with which they were spoken that grated on Marcus’s nerves. That and his son’s persistent attempt to read him.
Realizing the guy would keep hounding him until Marcus spilled his guts, he decided to tell Adrian about the dream, leaving out the part about Regan and the gnawing suspicion he had that she was the woman he’d seen hanged.
Adrian listened intently, his expression calm and encouraging, an assessing quality to his gaze. When Marcus finished recounting his story, his son echoed his thoughts. “Our kind doesn’t normally dream.”
“Think I don’t know that? That’s what makes this whole thing so damn weird.”
“Weird but not unlikely.” Adrian walked over to the couch and propped himself on the backrest. “It’s rare for our kind to dream, true. But it is possible.”
Marcus joined his son in the living room. “How do you figure that?”
“A Hybrid can experience the state humans refer to as dreaming if he reconnects with his old soul.”
Marcus couldn’t have been more stunned if his son had physically struck him. “That’s just plain nuts. I’m stuck here with a bunch of Hybrids. Everyone around me is as soulless as I am, except for Ben—” Understanding dawned, shaking him to the core, pulling the rug out from under him. “Are you referring to the kid?”
“It makes sense. I felt the connection between the three of you the moment you came charging into my living room. I wasn’t really sure what it meant…until now.”
The assertion only added to Marcus’s confusion. “If there was a connection, I would’ve felt it.”
Crossing his arms over his wide chest, Adrian shrugged. “Not necessarily. You’re too close to the situation. Plus, not only did I inherit your tracking skills, I inherited one of dear Uncle Kyros’s abilities as well. I can tap into a Hybrid’s lost soul, fix the broken links. That’s how I’ve been able to help the people here. I see connections, and the three of you—” He shook his head. “I’m not sure how to explain it, but you just fit.”
Marcus needed to sit down. He made his way to the armchair by the fireplace and folded his tall body into it. He wanted to deny what Adrian was implying, but he couldn’t. The truth was, it made a crazy kind of sense. Hadn’t he felt the changes inside him the moment they’d found the boy? The same changes he’d noted in Regan. There were two souls living within Ben, souls that were cut from the same cloth and perfectly mirrored each other.
“If what you’re saying is true, then that would make Regan and me soul mates.” Again, denial reeled within Marcus, but he tamped it down. He had to remain objective, analyze the situation from all angles so as to reach the most logical conclusion.
He thought of his irrational attraction to Regan, the maelstrom of sensations that buffeted him whenever she was near, the completeness that had washed over him last night when he’d made love to her. He thought of Regan’s unrelenting obsession with Ben, her unshakable conviction that his soul needed to be protected, and a chill traveled the length of his spine.
“If you’re right,” he said, “and if Cal manages to get his hands on Ben…” He trailed off, lost in the dark maze of his thoughts.
“If Ben’s soul is extinguished, you and Regan will go rogue.” Adrian’s tone grew low and sullen. “And, without a soul to anchor you, even I won’t be able to save you.”
Adrian was right. It was one thing for your soul to be lost to you, quite another for it to cease to exist altogether. If Ben’s essence was destroyed, any humanity he and Regan possessed would die with it.
Death didn’t frighten Marcus. He’d made a decision long ago to sacrifice his life for the cause if necessary. What scared him was the damage he could wreak if he lost control. Even worse would be seeing Regan succumb to the same darkness that had once owned him.
Adrian’s expression was no longer cool and unperturbed. He understood the challenge Marcus faced, maybe even sympathized with him. If anyone knew what it was like to find your soul and lose it, it was Adrian.
A wave of black energy suddenly swept in from the south. Marcus tunneled his vision, saw a procession of dark SUVs rocketing down the street, quickly eating up the distance that divided them. A sense of impending doom pressed down on him. Again, he
felt it, the approaching storm, the tightening noose of fate.
“The Watchers are coming.” He stood abruptly and stalked past Adrian. “I need to get Ben. Now.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Jace stormed into Cal’s office, his hands clenched at his sides. “You should’ve let me go with them.” He’d just learned that Cal had secretly dispatched a team to a townhouse development in Spokane after the meeting last night, and anger conspired with worry to stiffen every muscle in his body.
Cal sat behind his heavyset desk, his fingers joined as if in prayer, his back ramrod straight. Jace wasn’t even sure the guy had heard him, so vacant was his expression.
“I could’ve helped bring them back unharmed,” he persisted.
This time, his leader snapped to attention. “Really? The same way you brought them back when you tracked them to the hospital yesterday?”
Jace didn’t bother to reply. Cal had obviously already made up his mind.
“It’s a shame you didn’t run into them.” Cal’s words were laced with sarcasm. “Had you persuaded them to turn themselves in, I may have been inclined to absolve them of their sins.”
“Don’t play games with me.” Jace wanted to believe him, to trust that his leader wasn’t trying to manipulate him, to allow himself to hope that Cal would pardon Marcus and Regan given the right circumstances. But something held him back. He knew how judiciously Cal guarded his secret, all because he refused to lose face in the eyes of the Watchers. If he forgave Marcus and Regan for their blatant mutiny, how would that impact his image as an uncompromising leader?
A long, unnerving pause followed.
“You have no idea how many transgressions I’ve forgiven,” Cal finally said, almost in answer to his thoughts. “I’m not the enemy, Jace, nor am I the unfeeling dictator you paint me to be. I care about my recruits. They’re my family, my children. I take no pleasure in punishing them. But sometimes, I’m left with no choice. A certain order must be preserved if we’re to succeed in our mission. The fate of humanity is at stake.”
Jace had never bought into Cal’s fatalistic view of the world or his unwavering belief that it would someday end. “They were only trying to save a little kid. Can’t you understand that?”
Cal’s face reflected shock and a trace of indignation. “You ask that of me? I, who assisted in the death of my own son for the sake of the cause? Do you think that was an easy sacrifice for me to make?”
“You and Athanatos obviously had some issues. I thought—”
“He was still my flesh and blood,” Cal interrupted.
Jace remembered how Cal had faltered when he had Athanatos pinned to the ground with a blade to his throat. No, it couldn’t have been easy. Even if his son was a monster.
“His mother loved him deeply.” Cal’s features took on the distant quality of a dream, or in this case, a memory. “She would’ve done anything to save him. It was this blind devotion that ultimately destroyed her and cast a black shadow over the world. A shadow that persisted for thousands of years.”
This was the first time Cal willingly spoke of the woman who’d led to his fall. Jace had always wondered about her and couldn’t help but be intrigued. “What happened to her? Your wife?”
All emotion drained from Cal’s face. “Athanatos killed her.” He met Jace’s gaze, held it. “That’s what happens when one attempts to save someone from their own nature. If Regan and Marcus continue on this fool’s mission, this boy they’re so adamant to protect could end up costing them everything, including their lives.”
Jace fought to ignore the icy dread Cal’s words elicited within him. The man was only speculating. He couldn’t foresee the future anymore than Jace could. Then again, Jace had witnessed firsthand what his and Lia’s soul had done to Athanatos. A soul forged by an archangel was a pretty dangerous thing, its power hard to contain and even harder to control.
What if Cal was right? What if Regan’s devotion to Ben ended up getting her killed and Jace could’ve stopped it? “Did you mean what you said? If Regan and Marcus were to return, you would grant them a full pardon.”
“In exchange for the boy, yes.”
“Regan will never reveal Ben’s whereabouts. You can bet your halo on that.”
A fierce glitter came into Cal’s eyes, reminiscent of his alter-ego, the white wolf. “Unless someone convinced her to. Someone very persuasive.”
Jace knew when he was being played. Still, if he could save his mother, bring her back home… “All my persuasive charms won’t mean dick if she’s dead.” If Regan resisted, the Watchers would kill her. That was what they’d been instructed to do. “You should’ve let me go with them,” he repeated.
Regret fell to shadow Cal’s features. “What’s done is done. The Watchers should be in Spokane by now.”
“Call them off.”
“It’s too late.”
Jace felt purpose rip through his body, fueled by denial. “I can’t accept that. I won’t.”
Cal watched Jace stomp out of his office, once again wondering if he’d made a mistake excluding him from the team. Ever since he’d dispatched his troops to Spokane, he’d been beset by dark moments of doubt. The idea of killing Marcus and Regan left him feeling cold and hollow inside. But what choice did he have? He needed to get the boy back, to save face in the eyes of his recruits.
Had Jace been included in the team, there was no question his special skills would’ve come in handy. Unfortunately, Jace was a loose cannon. Following orders had never been his strong suit. He and Regan shared a friendship powerful enough to be worrisome. If Marcus could be persuaded to turn his back on his commitment to the Watchers, then so could Jace.
When Jace had burst into his office a few minutes ago, however, an idea had sparked in Cal’s mind. He’d been so preoccupied with the crisis at hand, he hadn’t thought of using Jace’s affection for Regan to his advantage. Given the right incentive, Jace could prove an indispensable ally. His power was limitless, and yet he insisted on using only a fraction of it. If anyone could find a way to get to Spokane and save Regan and Marcus, it was Jace. Then Cal could spare two of his most valued recruits without looking like he’d gone soft.
He hadn’t exaggerated the threat Benjamin posed to Regan and Marcus. The energy the boy carried inside him was dangerous. There was no way a human could control that kind of power. Ben’s life-force was a ticking bomb. Humans were no longer built to contain a soul forged by an archangel. Even in the old days, only a select few had been created for this purpose.
Sooner or later, Benjamin’s soul would kill him and quite possibly everyone who happened to be around him.
The air suddenly crackled, snapping him out of his thoughts, and Lillith appeared in the heart of the room. She’d changed into an elegant black suit that fit her tall, lithe figure like a glove and accentuated the paleness of her skin.
He sighed. A visit from his old lieutenant was the last thing he needed right now. “What can I do for you, Lillith?”
“You can tell me you’ve apprehended the boy.”
Cal stood and went to stand at the narrow window, staring out at the steel-colored sky. “I have a pretty good idea where he is—a Rogue community in Spokane. A team is on its way to retrieve him as we speak.”
“I hope this isn’t another empty promise, Calliel. Your track record has been less than encouraging.” There was something very different about Lillith, a hardness in her eyes, a bitterness in her voice. Back in the day, she never would’ve spoken to him with such blatant insolence.
“You’ve changed, Lillith.”
“Five millennia trapped in the third layer of heaven will do that you. My days are numbered. You know that as well as I do. Sooner or later, the Seraphim Council will track me down and annihilate me.”
Cal parted his lips to speak, but the angel silenced him with a shake of her head. “No need for empty reassurances. I’ve accepted my fate. All I ask is to see this mattered settled before I’m destroy
ed. Is that too much to hope for?”
He studied her carefully, noting the rigid set of her jaw, the tension lining her forehead, the tight clasp of her fingers. “Why is this so important to you?”
As much as Lillith had once longed to be part of the human world, he’d never known her to champion humanity’s cause so passionately. She’d cared more about the husband she’d lost, the children she’d borne, than she had about the world at large. Yet suddenly, here she was, willing to sacrifice her very existence to save mankind.
“Maybe I’m nostalgic,” she told him. “This world was once my home. I don’t want to see it washed away. Everything that remains of me is here.”
Cal caught the wistful longing in her voice and finally understood what drove her, who she truly sought to protect. “It’s not humanity you’re trying to save. It’s your offspring.” If a flood came, what remained of the Nephilim would be washed away as surely as the humans would.
“Does it really matter? Another great flood would destroy everyone, human and Nephilim alike. The way I see it, it’s in everybody’s best interest to see the angels’ plan thwarted.”
Perhaps she was right, but it didn’t change the fact that they fought on different sides. His purpose was to undo the evil he’d unleashed upon the world. Hers was to see it persist. “The Nephilim are a curse. If humanity is to survive, they need to be eliminated. How can you not see that?”
Lillith’s countenance changed. Her sharp cheekbones grew even more pronounced, her eyes two sunken pools in her waxen face. “Those who live in glass houses should not cast stones, Calliel. Have you conveniently forgotten your own transgressions? You are the reason the Nephilim exist in the first place. Had it not been for you, all our children would’ve been stillborn. But you simply couldn’t accept that. Even then, you were determined to trump fate.”
She was right, and that truth was a double-edged blade lodged in his chest. His wife had desperately wanted a child, and he would’ve done anything to see her dream fulfilled. Even make a deal with the devil.