Soul Deep: Dark Souls, Book 2

by Anne Hope

  “I feel it.” Her eyes widened, alarm rearranging her features. “Death. It’s coming.”

  Lillith advanced toward the boy, her fingers twitching around the dagger she held, barely contained anticipation tap-dancing along her ribs. He resembled a frightened little lamb on his way to the slaughterhouse—so small, so meek, so innocent. Excitement, the likes of which she hadn’t experienced in centuries, shimmied through her.

  He backed away, wariness claiming his face, his thin arms stretched out in front of him as though they could protect him.

  Lillith fought not to laugh. Did this pathetic slip of a boy think he was any match for her? She revealed the dagger, anxious to get the act over with before Micah decided to make an appearance.

  With a short, muffled grunt, she lunged at the child, backing him into a corner, the blade poised for attack. As the sharp point arced toward his heart, a thick cloud of energy began to hum around him. Then a bright blast invaded the small chamber, and Lillith went catapulting back.

  Regan stopped walking. A slimy chill spread through her, as though a snake had just slithered over her grave. She stared up at Marcus and noted the same morbid surprise on his face.

  “Feel that?” he asked.

  She nodded. Goose bumps pebbled her flesh, and she rubbed them away. “What do you think it means?” In the distance, the sky thundered a warning.

  He shook his head, his palm resting on the hilt of his sword. “I’m not sure.”

  Regan’s first instinct was to assume their souls had been compromised, that something terrible had happened to Ben.

  She chased the thought from her head. Her emotions were still intact. Her feelings for Marcus still burned strong and bright. Her fear for Ben remained a sharp-toothed ache in her gut, and that gave her hope that both he and his soul still lived.

  She felt the blast before she saw it, a growing wave of energy deep inside her, gathering speed, cresting. Then the air ruptured and light burst across the sky, momentarily turning night into day.

  Marcus’s face reflected the same shock that coursed through her. He met her gaze, his features set in a hard, dismal frown. “Ben.”

  Before she could say anything, he arrowed through the tall fence of trees and disappeared behind a vaporous curtain of fog.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  The bright beam that suddenly cleaved the sky wasn’t another flash of lightning. Jace was sure of it. The energy that speared through the atmosphere cut him straight to the bone, potent and familiar. It was the same energy that had burst from him last summer in the catacombs and fried Athanatos. The same energy that also dwelled in Ben.

  “What was that?” Lia walked up ahead of him, her ardent gaze riveted to the distant point beyond the mountains where the blast had originated.

  Jace’s reply was cut short by Cal, who started calling out to the others, urging them to hurry. Within seconds the Watchers were all galloping through the woods, their legs swimming in mist, each breath they exhaled a puff of smoke in the ever-cooling breeze.

  A chilling hush descended over the forest, a graveyard quiescence that somehow reinforced Lia’s dire prediction.

  “Death. It’s coming.”

  Her somber words spun through Jace’s mind, over and over again, like the chorus of a song he just couldn’t get out of his head.

  “You wouldn’t happen to know who’s going to die?” he asked her as they jogged side by side, the unforgiving wind whipping at their faces.

  Her expression was grim, focused. “Sorry. I only feel death. I don’t actually see it.”

  “Has to be Kyros,” he said in an effort to reassure not only her but himself. “That’s what this latest prophecy predicts.” Not that he’d ever placed much stock in prophecies, but right now he wanted to believe in this one real bad.

  She slanted him a sideways glance as they bolted over torn grass and broken tree roots. “I hope you’re right.”

  Up ahead the sky had gone black again, but remnants of the blast continued to linger in the air, a dark portent of events that had yet to unfold.

  Without warning, Kleptopsychs began spilling from the forest, quickly surrounding them. Lightning flashed, illuminating their faces and sending white sparks ricocheting across their wicked-looking blades.

  It seemed the future was unfolding quicker than anticipated.

  The boy took advantage of Lillith’s shock to run past her, heading for the exit, mewling sobs issuing from his throat. Recovering quickly, Lillith folded space and appeared at the cave’s opening, cutting off his only escape route.

  “That was a very naughty thing to do,” she chastised in a velvet-smooth voice.

  Benjamin’s chest rose and fell, a result of his frenetic breathing. “Get away from me! Leave me alone!” He retreated, never taking his eyes off her, his small fists clenched at his sides.

  She had to calm him down. If he pulled another stunt like that one, he could incinerate himself, and his soul could very well escape her. “Come now, don’t be afraid. I’m not going to hurt you.”

  His gaze fell to the knife.

  “You’re not scared of this little old thing, are you?” She crouched and laid the dagger on the silt-covered ground.

  The boy continued to back away from her.

  “I’m an angel.” She feigned another sugary smile. “Angels don’t hurt people, now do they?”

  “You tried to kill me,” he sobbed. “I saw you.”

  “I was only playing a game with you. You must like to play games.”

  His conviction faltered. She saw a flicker of doubt pass behind his eyes. She almost had him. Just a few more seconds and he’d be eating out of her palm. “Why don’t you come here and let me help you? I can take you home.”

  That was the wrong thing to say. Mistrust flared in his gaze again, and he scuttled deeper into the cave, past the crystal blue flames. This time he kept going until his back connected with the rocky wall. There was nowhere left for him to go.

  “Regan sent me to get you.” She’d used this technique before, back in the day when she’d made a career out of abducting children.

  “She did?” The boy’s defenses began to crumble.

  “Yes.” Lillith took a step forward, then another. “She’s very worried about you.” Just a few more paces and she’d be upon him.

  “Why didn’t she come get me herself?”

  The kid wasn’t as dumb as he looked. Lillith tamped down her mounting frustration. “She’s been hurt. She needs you.” Extending her hand, she waited for him to come take it. “Let me bring you to her.”

  The boy hesitated. Then he took a tentative step toward her.

  “That’s it. Come to me, little lamb.”

  The cave was buried at the foot of a mountain, beneath a wide mantle of trees and foliage. Had Ben’s energy not been guiding him, Marcus might’ve missed the opening altogether.

  “He’s in there,” he told Regan, who crowded in beside him to take a better look.

  “I know. I feel him, too.”

  The oppressive humidity intensified, and violent pellets of rain began to fall. Regan shuddered and hurried forward, anxious to get to Ben and escape the storm.

  Marcus gripped her by the arm. “Wait. He’s not alone.”

  Regan halted in her steps. “Kyros?”

  He shook his head. “It’s not a dark energy I sense. If I was a betting man, I’d say this energy belongs to an angel.”

  “It must be Micah.” She gazed absently at the rain-lashed trees. “Problem is, angels are a bitch to fight.”

  “How do you know that?”

  Regan’s skin grew deathly pale from the cold. “Because I’ve recently had an encounter with one of them—a woman. She was crazy powerful, the operative word being crazy. I’ve never faced anyone like her before.”

  Rain continued to assault them, a spray of icy bullets slamming into them. Marcus’s leather bomber jacket offered some protection, but Regan wasn’t as lucky. Her lips lost their rosy
tint in favor of a frightening shade of blue.

  He pulled off his jacket, draped it over her shoulders.

  “No,” she protested. “You need it more.”

  “Stop arguing. We’ve got a bigger problem right now.”

  For once, Regan listened, pulling the sides of the jacket together to shield herself from the rain.

  “There must be something that can kill an angel,” he said. “Every living thing has an Achilles heel.” Water plastered his T-shirt to his body, chilling him.

  Like it or not, they had to get inside the cave before the rain weakened them. He pulled out his sword, even though he suspected it would prove useless against an angel, and entered. The cave was pitch-black, except for a distant corner where a strange, hazy light glowed, outlining the shapes that lurked within. At the far end of the cavern, Ben stood with his back pressed to the wall as a female figure took several predatory steps toward him.

  “Back off.” Marcus lanced forward, placing himself between Ben and the woman.

  Now that he got a good look at her, he saw that she was thin and willowy, with a short crop of blond hair and toxic green eyes. Was this the angel Regan had mentioned?

  “How brave and valiant of you. No wonder Cal was so reluctant to kill you.”

  Ben gripped him by the leg, trembling against him, too frightened to make a sound.

  “How do you know Cal?”

  Regan remained in the shadows, watching the scene, probably waiting for an opportunity to take the angel by surprise.

  “We go way back.” The blonde’s tone resonated with an unspoken taunt. “You should ask him about me sometime.”

  Marcus refused to let her reel him in. “What do you want with the boy? Are you the one who intends to feed his soul to Kyros?”

  Besides a sharp intake of breath, Ben remained silent.

  “You have me confused with Micah,” she told him, not the slightest bit unsettled by his presence. “This soul is pure poison. I would never encourage my grandson to ingest it. If he does, it will kill him.”

  Her grandson? This creature was Kyros’s grandmother? Even more interesting was the fact that she’d just refuted everything he’d been led to believe. If Ben’s destiny wasn’t to empower Kyros, then his purpose was surely to destroy him. It had to be.

  Marcus aimed his blade at her chest. “Walk away while you still can.”

  The angel raised two puzzled brows. “Go ahead,” she challenged. “Spill my blood. It will only serve to weaken you.”

  He positioned the blade between her breasts, but stopped short of piercing her skin. “You’re not going to hurt him.”

  “Really?” Any patience she’d exhibited vanished, replaced by a calculating hatred, the likes of which Marcus had never before seen. “Who’s going to stop me? You?” With a flick of her wrist, she sent him catapulting through the air.

  Marcus crashed into the cave wall, and a fissure formed in the stone where his body struck it. Glittering rocks rained down around him.

  Regan saw an opening and seized it. She tackled the angel, foregoing her blade in favor of her fists. She delivered a sharp uppercut to the angel’s solar plexus, followed by a jab to the ribs. The blonde doubled over. Regan used the opportunity to drop-kick her, and the angel fell on her hands and knees.

  Marcus jumped to his feet and ran to assist Regan, but he wasn’t fast enough. The angel recovered and sent Regan spinning through the air. Regan plunked to the ground near the cave door, grunting in pain.

  Marcus jumped the angel, and the two of them rolled across the grime-encrusted floor in an awkward display of limbs. She was stronger than he’d anticipated, and in a matter of seconds she had him pinned down. Grabbing the trench knife sheathed at his waist, she brought the blade to his throat. His skin sizzled where the angel’s blood touched it, and pain exploded from the wound. A buzzing sound filled his ears. He gritted his teeth, labored to stay conscious.

  “Hey, bitch,” Regan called from across the cave. Marcus’s vision blurred, but he recognized Regan’s familiar shape standing about ten feet away. “Catch this.”

  The angel looked up just as a dagger cleaved the air. For the first time, fear glimmered in the blonde’s eyes, right before the blade struck her in the heart. Light exploded from the angel’s chest, and she toppled off him.

  Blackness fringed Marcus’s vision, threatened to close in on him. He pushed it back and forced himself onto his elbows, looking down at the spot where the angel had fallen.

  Nothing remained but a pile of ashes and two blades—the trench knife and a gold, ruby-hilted dagger that shimmered with an odd incandescence, reminiscent of the strange, gaslight flames that steadily burned in the deepest recess of the cave.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Regan’s shoulders sagged with relief when she realized she’d hit her mark. She’d struck the woman dead center in the heart, preventing the flow of blood. The last thing she’d wanted was for the angel to bleed all over Marcus before collapsing beside him.

  Ben suddenly propelled himself across the cave and leaped into her arms. “She told me you were hurt.” A series of gasps shook his chest.

  “I’m fine. It’s you I was worried about.” She pulled back and examined his face. “Are you all right?”

  He nodded feebly, his eyes flooding with tears.

  “You’re safe now,” she reassured him.

  Taking the boy by the hand, she hastened over to Marcus, who still lay on the ground. She kneeled next to him, studying the red burn on his throat. Sweat coated his face, and he gritted his teeth in pain. Considering the fact that he’d barely recovered from his last brush with angel’s blood, he had to be feeling pretty lousy right now.

  She palmed his pale, cold cheek. “How bad is it?”

  “I’ll live,” he grunted. “But if I never see angel’s blood again, it’ll be too soon.”

  Ben lowered himself next to Marcus. “Does it hurt?” Extending a small, tentative hand, he ran his fingers over Marcus’s burn. A soft glow emanated from his touch, and Marcus’s flesh instantly began to mend. The burn shrank down to nothing, leaving a paper-thin scar behind.

  Snatching his hand away, Ben stared at Marcus’s throat in baffled amazement.

  Marcus ran his thumb over the healed wound. “It’s gone.”

  Gratitude expanded in Regan’s chest, and she smiled. “Looks like Ben’s regenerative powers are even more impressive than mine.”

  “Did I do that, take the hurt away?” Ben’s voice was small and meek, infused with hope.

  Regan ruffled his hair. “You sure did, kiddo.”

  “I thought I only made bad things happen.” Tears filled Ben’s eyes again.

  Marcus placed a comforting hand on the boy’s shoulder. “We all do bad things sometimes. The important thing is to learn from our mistakes, to take the gifts we’ve been given and use them to help others. And that’s exactly what you just did.”

  Ben swiped at his eyes, his lips twitching at the corners. Before his mouth could curl into a smile, terror contorted his features, and he shot to his feet. “He’s coming.”

  Regan stood abruptly. “Who?”

  “The angel. The one who brought me here. And he’s not alone.” Ben’s frantic gaze searched hers imploringly. “He’s with the man with the scary eyes.”

  “Where the blazes are we going?” Kyros swatted away a thick branch, scowling bitterly as rain fell in sheets to engulf him. A part of him wondered if Micah was purposely exposing him to the storm in order to weaken him.

  “All your questions will be answered shortly.” Something crackled behind them, and Micah flung a glance over his shoulder.

  Kyros stomped the ground as he advanced, hoping to mask the noise.

  “You did come alone as I asked?”

  “Of course,” Kyros lied. “I have no intention of sharing this soul with anyone. I do, however, have a burning desire to get out of this torrential rain.”

  The noise intensified, strange thuds an
d clunks that shattered the stillness. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear a full-blown battle had broken out. What the hell was going on back there? Could his troops make their presence any more conspicuous?

  “The wildlife is in an uproar,” Kyros said in an attempt to ease the angel’s suspicions. “Probably as desperate to find shelter as I am.”

  Micah didn’t look convinced. He tossed another glance behind them, inspected the damp, shivering woods, then focused his analytical gaze on Kyros. “We’ll be there soon.”

  The more they walked, the fainter the sounds grew, until they faded altogether. Eventually, the silence grew so absolute, Kyros felt compelled to break it. “There’s something I don’t understand. If this soul is such a prize, why did you choose to gift it to me?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” Micah gazed up through the fluttering leaves at the steel-gray clouds, as though willing them to keep lashing out their wet, cold fury. “The Ancients are practically extinct, and only a handful of firstborns remain. The amount of candidates among which to choose was quite low, significantly increasing your odds of being selected. The fact that you’re Athanatos’s son and the new leader of the Kleptopsychs tipped the scale in your favor.”

  Kyros didn’t buy it. The angel was hiding something. He could tell. “What is it you hope to accomplish by empowering me? And don’t give me some bullshit about peace.”

  Micah reflected. “I wish to restore the balance of power. If I have my way, the unworthy shall perish and the worthy shall rightfully inherit the earth.”

  Kyros lapsed into silence again as rain slashed the air around them, striking the ground with brutal force. The smell of moss and rotting grass contaminated the atmosphere, overpowering the scent of wildflowers perfuming the breeze.

  They finally emerged from the thickets, covered in grime and drenched to the bone. Beyond the mountains, lightning lacerated the sky moments before Micah came to an abrupt stop. “Our journey is at its end.” With a final glance over his shoulder, the angel indicated the opening of a cave about ten yards away. “Your prize awaits. All you need to do is enter to claim it.”