Stolas: A Dark Soul Series Novel

by Randi Cooley Wilson

  My head drops forward and I inhale again before swinging my gaze toward the end of the distorted hallway. It’s empty. Eerily so. Normally at this hour, there are a handful of retreat guests milling about. But today—nothing. What the hell is going on?

  I stumble, struggling to put one foot in front of the other, until I reach Dr. Foster’s office door. Heaving a sigh of relief, I fumble with the doorknob until I manage to swing it open. On my last twist, it pops open and I tumble into his office. Just as I’m about to fall, an arm reaches out and roughly wraps around me, pinning my arms to my sides.

  “Don’t struggle.” Vassago’s deep warning causes a wave of fear to roll through me.

  “Let me go!” I slur, thrashing against his massive chest, even though I am locked in a tight hold.

  “Don’t be difficult. The more you fight, the harder this will be.”

  “Why is she slurring? Did you drug her?” A silky, warm voice invades my senses.

  “Stone?” I lock eyes with him.

  “Calm down. We’ve given her a mild sedative to relax her,” another person states.

  “Don’t tell me to calm down,” Stone says irritably.

  My eyes water and I dig my fingernails into my palms, while trying to get Vassago to release the grip he has on me. In response, he tightens his hold and my vision blurs even further. My body is heavy, and focusing is becoming more and more difficult.

  “Hope,” Stone says softly. “Don’t fight it. You have my word, we won’t hurt you.”

  His voice lulls me, right before everything goes dark.

  The metallic taste in my mouth, along with the pounding in my head, forces me to keep my eyes closed. My body sways in a gentle motion, and there is soft leather underneath my cheek, alerting me that I’m in a car. My internal alarms go off and my heart rate increases.

  “What do you think he’ll do with her in the Circles?” someone asks.

  “He will do whatever it is he wants to. It’s not our concern,” comes a sharp reply from a voice sounding like Vassago’s.

  My heart twists at his cruel words and tone. He? Are they talking about Stone?

  Silence fills the car for the next few minutes.

  “How much GHB did you give her?” the person speaks again, sounding worried.

  “A sip, maybe two. There was water in a glass next to her bed, so I dumped it and replaced it with the GHB liquid,” Vassago answers. “Why?”

  “Don’t you think she should be awake by now? If he sees her like this, passed out and drooling all over herself, he’ll freak the fuck out again.”

  “Not my concern.”

  “It will be if she doesn’t wake up soon. His need to protect her is oddly . . . animalistic.”

  The car comes to a stop and the sound of the door opening makes my pulse beat wildly out of control. The frigid air rushes in, helping to wake me. I use every ounce of strength I have in trying to force my lids to open, but they’re being uncooperative.

  Whatever they’ve drugged me with isn’t allowing my brain to connect with my muscles. I moan in frustration before a warm, gentle hand rests on the pulse at my neck.

  “Take her into the house so she can sleep the rest of it off,” Vassago orders the hand.

  The smell of cigarettes fills my nose, as strong arms lift me and my head drops to a hard shoulder. “Come on, la mia bella veggente.” Ah. Leviathan. “Let’s get you settled.”

  Those are the final words I hear before everything goes black.

  My lashes flicker a few times, trying to clear my vision. I have no idea how long I’ve been out, or where I am, but I know I need to wake up. The heaviness under my scalp causes a groan to escape my lips. When I get my eyes open, the room swims in my fading drug-impaired vision, not giving me time to make anything out.

  I squeeze my eyes closed tightly, fear settling in my chest like a heavy weight. With the panic comes a spike of adrenaline. As the energy surge courses through my bloodstream, I manipulate it and after a few tries, use it to finally get my eyes to fully open.

  The sight in front of me seizes my body. I stare at him, even though I can’t see anything but his faint shadow hovering over me. I open my mouth to speak, but it’s dry and my throat is scratchy, forcing me to throw a hard, cold glare at him instead.

  Stone pushes a glass to me and places a gentle hand on the back of my neck to help me sit up. He positions the straw to my lips. “I assure you, it’s water. Nothing more.”

  I refuse it, snapping my head to the side, away from the warmth of his hand. At the motion, the dizziness overwhelms me, causing my body to fall back onto the bed, my head sinking into the down pillow.

  “I guess I should begin by apologizing for drugging and kidnapping you.” He places the glass on the nightstand and takes a seat on the edge of the bed.

  “Fuck you,” I rasp.

  “I suppose I deserve that.”

  “What is GHB?” I whisper.

  “A depressant for your central nervous system. It will wear off soon.”

  I narrow my eyes at him. “You just drugged a former addict.”

  “It’s not addictive and it was the only way to get you out of Shadowbrook.”

  “Why?” I hiss.

  “You would have screamed or alerted the nurses and doctors. The GHB made it easier to remove you without chaos and drama,” Stone explains.

  I clear my throat. Each word feels like knives are running down it. “No. I meant, why did you kidnap me?”

  “I have my reasons.”

  A small smile touches his lips as his eyes scan my face, causing my breathing to cease. Being this close to him sets off the butterflies in my stomach. I remind myself he drugged me against my will, ending my appreciation of his beauty and causing anger to replace it.

  “Take a picture, it will last longer.”

  “You’re feistier than I thought you would be.” He sounds amused.

  “I’m so happy that pleases you.” I cough.

  Stone leans over and snatches the glass off the table again, bringing it to my mouth. “You really should drink some water. It will soothe your throat. Avi will bring you medication shortly for the headache I am sure you are suffering with.” When I flatten my lips, he sighs. “Please,” he adds in a gentle tone, pushing the straw to my lips.

  Reluctantly, I part them, greedily swallowing the cool liquid.

  “Avi?” I question. “She’s in on this kidnapping too?”

  Stone falls quiet.

  “If it’s money you want, my parents will pay whatever ransom you’re asking,” I reason. “I could call them. Or Dr. Foster. You’ll have the money by the end of the day.”

  Stone leans to the side and releases a deep laugh that rattles my core before he straightens to his full height and gives me his back, taking a step toward the door.

  “Wait.” I panic and grab the bottom of his shirt, pulling on it. His gaze falls to where I’m touching him and a dark shadow crosses his features, causing me to release my grip. “Where are you going? You’re just going to leave me here?”

  “You are free to roam around the house at your leisure. Avi will bring you something for your head and something to eat. Once you’ve eaten and rested, we can talk.”

  “Hey,” Avi announces from the doorway. “I’ve got Advil, coffee, and a bagel with cream cheese.” She skips into the room, as if she isn’t an accomplice to my abduction.

  My focus swings to her. “You were in on this?” I hiss.

  She looks between me and Stone before pushing her shoulders back and walking into the sun-filled room at a more casual and cautious pace. Once she’s next to the bed, she places the tray across my lap, fluffs my pillows, and helps me sit up.

  “Take the medicine and enjoy the bagel,” Stone orders. “We’ll talk when you’re ready.”

  I watch his receding form before throwing an angry glare at Avi. “What the hell is going on?”

  “It’s complicated,” she sighs. “Take the Advil, Hope.” She shoves th
e two pain relievers at me.

  “How do I know it’s Advil?”

  Avi drops onto the bed and smiles brightly. “Guess we’ll find out once you swallow.”

  After eyeing her, I consume the pills with a sip of my coffee.

  “Nicely done. Try the bagel. I toasted it myself.” She wiggles her brows.

  “Where are we?”

  “Eat the bagel.”

  “Not until you tell me what the hell is going on.”

  “You’ll be hungry. I had that shipped in from the States. New York, to be exact.”

  Note to self, we are not in the States.

  I drop my head back onto the headboard. “Avi.”

  “Hope.”

  I shake my head, not looking at her.

  “We just want to fulfill our assignment. I promise, Stone won’t let anything happen to you while you’re here. Plus, you’ll have me looking out for you as well,” she adds.

  “Assignment?” I repeat. “I have no idea what you’re saying.”

  “I know. And Stone will explain it, when you’re ready,” she assures me. “In the meantime, eat, rest, and enjoy this beautiful villa. It’s a thousand times better than Shadowbrook.”

  “Do I have a choice?” I ask, looking at her warily.

  “Nope,” she replies, and smiles brightly.

  I deliberate for a few moments, but she’s right. I guess there is no choice. “Fine.” I bring the bagel to my mouth and rip off a large, annoyed bite.

  “Excellent.” She stands and waves toward the door on the left side of the room. “That is a full bathroom stocked with toiletries, hair products, and makeup. Feel free to shower and freshen up. Over here,” she walks around the bed and opens a set of double doors, “is your closet. I picked out a few things I thought you might like. Everything is in your size, so grab whatever is comfortable to throw on.”

  “Guess you’ve been planning this for a while,” I mumble.

  Avi’s expression falls and she frowns. “I’m sorry, Hope. I am.”

  I’m not sure how to handle an apology from my friend-turned-kidnapper; especially knowing they’re just going to keep holding me against my will. “There’d better be designer jeans and super cute boots in that closet,” I mutter, trying to cover my anxiety.

  She smiles. “See you when you’re feeling up to it,” she replies, leaving me alone.

  I finish the bagel and coffee because I’m starving and the heaviness in my stomach makes me feel less dizzy. So much so, I slide out of bed to explore the room.

  It’s elegant, decorated with warm creams and whites, with dark wood accents. There is a wall of windows overlooking a frozen lake and snow-capped mountains. We must still be somewhere in Switzerland, since the car ride was short and the mountains look familiar.

  I test the windows and French doors, but they’re cemented shut.

  The cathedral ceiling has dark wood beams running across it. Even though the room feels modern, it also has classic elements of a Swiss ski chalet.

  I open the door to the bathroom and my mouth falls open. It looks like my own personal spa. The shower alone could hold five people. My eyes fall onto the Jacuzzi tub, and I decide right then and there that, regardless of being kidnapped, my body could use a good soak.

  Walking into the massive closet, I find a pair of jeans, pick up a pair of knee-high boots, and snatch a black sweater out of the seemingly thousands of items to choose from. After opening several drawers, I pull out a bra-and-panty set and some socks, removing all the tags from the new clothes. I head back into the bathroom and for the next two hours, soak and primp, while trying to think of a way to run away or call for help.

  Once I feel human again, I walk around the room and frantically check for an escape route, but nothing jumps out. Defeated, I sink to the floor and push my back against the bed. Rubbing my face, I lift my gaze and focus on the door. Stone said I’m not a prisoner. I am free to roam around. Maybe I can find a cell phone or unlocked door somewhere else in the house.

  With a new resolve, I venture into the hallway. There’s a staircase at the end, but I decide to explore this floor first. Cautiously, I open the door to my right. An expensive male scent prompts me to inhale. The masculine smell is confident and comfortable, exotic even. A mixture of warm citrus with notes of deep, sweet cinnamon and smokiness.

  Stone. The room smells like him, and a warmth floats over me. I pick up one of the shirts laying on the floor and lift it to my nose, inhaling deeply.

  It smells as if Stone had been outside all day, sitting by a campfire, toasting marshmallows while drinking hot cocoa lined with cinnamon and topped with orange zest.

  Coming to my senses, I drop the shirt and roll my eyes at my own stupid action.

  “He kidnapped you,” I whisper-shout. Focus!

  I scan the room, noticing it’s a messy closet, and full of Stone’s clothes. There are jeans, T-shirts, and boots thrown around haphazardly. Guess he’s not a neat freak. My eyes home in on a motorcycle helmet, which means there must be cars—or at least a bike—and the keys are probably somewhere in here.

  Exhaling, I check all the pockets of the pants and rummage through his clothes, throwing them back on the floor after searching each one.

  After finding nothing to help me, I make my way across the hall to the third room on this floor before I’ll wander down the staircase. Pushing the double doors open, I’m transported into an office that feels more like a library. The walls are covered in books and a roaring fire is dancing in the modern hearth. Once again, I turn over the room, opening drawers and looking for anything to help me escape.

  Oddly, I don’t find any sign of a computer, cell phone, or anything one would normally see in an office. Annoyed, I growl and fall onto the soft leather couch facing the fire.

  “Did you find what you were looking for?” Stone’s voice curls around me.

  I don’t bother to look in his direction. “If you mean a cell phone to call the police, then no.”

  His shadow, cast by the golden glow from the flames, looms over me. The image of his silhouette against the cerise flames seems familiar in some way, normal even.

  I lift my cold stare and lock onto his verdant gaze. He stands there, hands in the front pockets of his jeans, looking at me with no expression. It’s like he’s fighting some sort of internal battle. I need to take advantage of his softening features.

  Determined to appeal to him on a human level, I take a deep, calming breath.

  “You need to bring me back. I’m a mental health patient. I need my meds.”

  “No, you don’t,” he answers in a final tone.

  “Yes, I do,” I hiss. “You have no idea. If I don’t take my anti-psychotics . . .” I trail off. “Stopping abruptly is dangerous. I have self-harm tendencies. Please, let me go back.”

  “Why do you take them?” he asks in a cold and detached tone.

  I jerk back as if he slapped me. “None of your damn business. Why were you there?”

  “For you.” He doesn’t falter.

  “What?”

  “I was at Shadowbrook for you, Hope. Why do you take the medication?” he repeats.

  I close my eyes, feeling like I’m going to cry. “Please,” my voice sounds small. “I just—I’m not sure what I’ve done to you, but I am currently under Dr. Foster’s mental health care. I need to be at Shadowbrook for my own safety. Do you understand?”

  He takes a step toward me.

  I hold up my hand. “Don’t.”

  Ignoring my request, he moves until he’s squatting in front of me, voice calm. “Let me make something clear. What you suffer from is not something a medical facility, or a psychiatrist, can help you with. Those pills they throw down your throat are nothing more than a mask that hides who you really are and what you are really capable of.”

  I frown at his words. “That’s not true.”

  “It is. Trust me.”

  “And what makes you such an expert on my condition?”


  Stone tilts his head to the side, and reaches out a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “Those demons and shadows that haunt you . . . they’re real. They are not figments of your imagination. They exist. And I know this without a shadow of a doubt because I am Stolas, the son of Lucifer, and heir to the Nine Circles of Hell.”

  Stone

  I’m affected by her current emotional state, and attempt to ignore the invisible cord tying us together, by pacing in a tight box—nervous energy pouring off me in waves.

  “You just might be crazier than I am,” she snaps.

  I drop a hard glare to her. “You are not crazy. Stop saying that about yourself.”

  You know nothing about me, Stone.” Her gaze slides past me to the fireplace. “For two years, I have fought to hold on to my sanity. I’ve been plagued by voices and dark visions . . . things no one should ever see. My mental illness is real. It’s not something to mock. I suffer with it, live with it, and fight to survive it daily, so don’t patronize me by feeding into it, or lying as an attempt to break me.”

  I work hard to restrain the rage building inside me. Where I come from, people don’t question my word. The runes along my arms and neck flicker with sparks of red and Hope’s eyes widen in terror.

  “What the hell, Stone? Your tattoos—”

  “The runes are my birthmarks. I was born with them,” I cut her off in a growl. “They’re attached to my demonic magic, and when I’m angered or my emotions run high, they glow.”

  “Demonic magic?” she whispers. “Oh God. See? This—this is why I need my meds.”

  “For fucks sake,” I snarl out, and storm toward the door, yelling for the others to join me. Within seconds, Lev and Avi are in the office, staring at Hope’s scared-shitless form. I hold my hand out to them. “You may speak freely.”

  “What happened?” Avi asks.

  “Show her,” I bark.

  The demoness stares back at me with wide eyes. “Just like that?”

  “Are you questioning me?” It comes out as a grumble, deep from my throat.