Broken Souls (Primani Book 4)

by Laurie Olerich

  She’d taken the brunt of the firebomb; her dress was burned to scraps. Her velvety skin scorched red, blackened in places, bloody in others… Her eyes streamed as her breath hitched with agony. Her lids fluttered as she lost consciousness in Raine’s arms.

  “No!” Raine’s plea was drowned by the sirens, but hit Dec like a gunshot.

  Sean grabbed his arm, took one look at his face and dropped it. “Go! Get her out of here. I’ll cover you.”

  Raine cradled Rori, his own bloodshot eyes streaming steadily as he prayed for a miracle. He wasn’t a religious man, but he’d try anything to save her. She was still now, her breathing shallow and halting. Her lungs struggled to work, struggled to keep her alive.

  “Please, God. If you’re really there, do something! Don’t let her die like this!”

  People crowded around. Someone stepped on his fingers, breaking more than one. The sharp pain took his breath away, but he refused to respond. He’d been through worse. Rori was probably dying. How did this happen? One minute she was laughing, vibrant and pretty, then the next she flew into him, broken and burned. “Get back, people! Give her some air!”

  Rori coughed raggedly, the sound ending in a pathetic whimper. The smell of cooked meat washed over him as the initial adrenaline wore off. His hands were burned raw, skin hanging off his left thumb. The sickeningly sweet smell turned his stomach, reminded him of another time he’d seen such atrocities, other burned bodies. Jesus Christ. Where was the fucking ambulance?

  Someone touched his shoulder, ordering softly, “Let me have her. I can help.”

  He couldn’t see who’d spoken through the film of tears. The smoke had burned the hell out of his eyes. They’d been running constantly since he’d left the store. Who was talking to him? Was it a medic? Squeezing away the stinging tears, Raine looked into the face of an angel. The blond-haired man squatted where no one had been the second before. He seemed to pulse with a soft golden light, the blue eyes on fire in their sockets.

  “What are you?”

  The angel grimaced and said, “Not what. Who. I’m just a man. Now let her go.”

  He blinked again, and they were gone.

  “Raphael! Hurry!”

  Rori’s eyes were closed. Thank the Lord she was unconscious. She had to be in agony. Moving carefully, Dec laid her on a bed and got to work. Placing his hands on her chest, he started the healing process with her lungs. The warmth of his saol flowed like lava as he dumped the energy into her, desperation nearly making him insane. He shook from head to toe with the need to fix her. He’d healed some terrible wounds, but this was one of the worst he’d seen. Even Mica’s broken bones had been easier to fix. Sucking in a deep breath, he put a leash on the panic and got down to business. Time for emotions later.

  “Come on, sweetheart. Heal for me. I’m going to put you back together.” He kept his voice low and soothing, but the strain was clear even to him. He was too close this time. He knew it, but there was no going back. There was no way in hell he was leaving this woman in this condition. What happened this morning? This wasn’t the usual work of demons. No, they usually didn’t toss bombs into stores. This was something else. What was Dread Head doing there? Clearly he’d been inside when the bomb went off. He was covered with cuts and burns. Probably he saved Rori’s life. Shit. He didn’t want to feel gratitude to this guy. But hell, if he saved her, he’d get Dec’s gratitude… and then some.

  Her breathing sounded normal again, so he let his hands drift over her abdomen and watched as the bloody flesh knitted and returned to pink health.

  Raphael joined him without announcing his presence. He stood on the other side of Rori and ran his eyes over the destruction. With a soft growl in his throat, he laid his hands over the delicate bones of her face. The archangel’s healing power flowed, a soft vibration of energy that made Dec’s hands tingle. Neither spoke as they worked from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. There was so much damage, so much to heal.

  “How’s she doing?” Sean spoke softly from the doorway.

  Raphael glanced up, answering, “She’ll be okay physically. I am unsure how she’ll feel about this when she wakes up. Her nightmares are full of fire and darkness. The demon still haunts her sleep.”

  Dec lifted her hair, pointed to the tiny sigil that was branded into her skin, and said, “Raphael, this needs to go--now. Maybe we can break that demon’s connection? Maybe something good can come from this disaster?”

  Sean stepped closer, his eyes hooded along with his thoughts. “I’ve seen that mark before. It’s on her mother’s grave.”

  The clock struck 1:00. Raine stared stone-faced at the hands as they inched forward into another hour. Very, very slowly, he closed his eyes. He’d been sitting on his kitchen floor for hours but he couldn’t make himself move a muscle. God, everything hurt. He’d been burned, cut, and bruised. Every time he moved his left elbow, something grated inside, sending fresh sweat beading over him. The perspiration stung the hundreds of cuts that dotted the front side of his body. Fuck. It hurt to breathe. Funny how you don’t feel pain when you’re running for your life… or saving someone else’s. The body just does what it needs to do to survive the moment. But after? Yeah, afterwards, the chemicals vanish, and you’re left feeling like shit. Like right now. There was nothing but pain: Pain in his body, pain in his heart.

  Memories tumbled over one another from today, from yesterday, from years ago in another lifetime. He wished he could change his life. His past… his future. He’d been so close… so close to escaping the nightmares, but they were back. The explosion, glass shattering… the ringing in his ears, today and a lifetime ago, ran through his head. Screams echoed. Eerie cries for help crawled over his skin, sending him spiraling into this pitiful bloody waste he was right now. He shivered, opened his eyes, and noticed two of his fingers were purple. Broken. Not the first time. He knew he should go to the hospital, but no one would treat him. He was a nobody. Had nothing, meant nothing. Death just followed him, but refused to claim him. Resting his head against the wall, he concentrated on being still. He was too tired to move now. He’d just lie here…

  A light swung across his eyelids like a flashlight beam. Squinting against the blinding light, he struggled to wake up. His muzzy head refused to cooperate so he lay as still as possible, trying to force his brain to function. A prickling of electricity tingled through his limbs. The skin on his face and chest tightened and relaxed. The pain receded. He tried to open his eyes, but a voice whispered to keep them shut. Someone picked up his wrist, and the piercing pain in his fingers vanished with a burst of heat.

  “What the--”

  “Shh. Don’t talk. Don’t open your eyes, or I’ll leave your dumb ass just like you are.”

  More whispering. More than one person? Some of the words were clear enough to hear, but in some foreign language. What the hell was going on? He seemed to be paralyzed; he tried to sit up, but his muscles didn’t respond to his brain. He must be in the hospital. That’s got to be it. But how? When? Rori? Did she look for him? Did she find someone to help him?

  “Rori?”

  “Rori’s fine. She’s healing someplace safe. I’m going to wake you up now. Don’t fight me, or I’ll knock your ass out again. Deal?”

  He managed to mutter, “Yeah, sure,” before a sharp burst of adrenaline crashed through his chest, flinging him upright like a jack-in-the-box. Squinting against the energy zinging through him, he could only gape. He must be losing his mind. Maybe he was in a coma and having really lucid dreams.

  “Holy God… you’re that angel.”

  The blond-haired angel sat at the foot of his bed. His eyes burned, literally, with a brilliant blue flame, and he held a thin silver blade in one hand. The metal gleamed in the glow of his halo as he let it rest on his thigh. Strangely, the angel was dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved button up shirt, sleeves shoved up his forearms. A frayed leather bracelet circled one wrist.

  “You won’t remember
any of this, but I’d be a complete tool if I didn’t talk to you.” He nodded his head as if agreeing with himself. “Yeah, it’s the least I can do.”

  He’d been saved by an Irish angel?

  Were all angels Irish? The nuns failed to mention this. He was thoroughly confused. He must’ve hit his head. He reached behind, checking for lumps. Nope, no goose eggs on his noggin. No crusty blood either. “Uh, sure. Okay. Am I dead?”

  “Not today, Raine.” His mouth curled into a hint of a smile. Those terrifying eyes faded to a clear blue, the brilliant halo vanished. He looked just like any other guy now except for the aura of power and strength that ebbed around him.

  No way this guy was human.

  “Okay. So what do you want with me?”

  The angel stood and dragged his fingers through his hair, shoving it away from his face. “You pulled Rori Austin from that building before I could get to her. If it wasn’t for you, she’d have been toast. Because of you, she’s going to be okay. For that, I have to say thank you. I owe you a debt. I don’t like the position that puts me in. So I just took away your pain.”

  My pain? He took a few seconds to look over his body. The burns were gone. The glass was gone. His broken fingers were healed. It was a miracle.

  Choking up, he swallowed hard and whispered, “I don’t deserve this. I’m not a good man.”

  The angel narrowed his eyes and fingered the hilt of his weapon for an entire minute before re-sheathing it and taking Raine’s face between his two hands. Staring straight into his eyes, he commanded softly, “Let me in, Raine.”

  Time had passed. He knew it in his gut, but he had no idea how much. He was so tired. He wanted to sleep forever. Someone squeezed his hand.

  He cracked an eye and sat up straighter.

  With sad eyes, the angel sighed next to him. “You’re killing me here, dude. I don’t want to like you, but you’re making it tough. I’ve just seen your entire life, and I’ll be damned if I can fault you anything. But you fault yourself, don’t you? That’s got to stop. Because I’m such a nice guy, I’m going to take away your self-loathing and guilt from Afghanistan. Those deaths were not your fault--you have no reason to feel responsible or guilty. The fact that you survived to fight another day is your destiny. You were a good soldier, Raine. You still are. When you wake up, you will be able to remember all of the events clearly but without emotions clouding your perception. This will help you move forward and live the life you’re supposed to be living. Get off the streets. Find your family. Now we’re even, you and I.”

  What the fuck? How did he know about all that?

  “I know everything, and I am always right.” He actually winked.

  Was it possible? Could he move on with his life? Could he forgive himself? He searched his heart for the familiar weight of guilt. It was gone. Maybe the angel was right. If that was true, he’d not only been blessed; he’d been saved. Raine swallowed the flood of emotions washing over him. He wasn’t going to cry. Not now. Not in front of this powerful creature who looked like he would like to strangle him. Changing the subject seemed the best way to manage.

  “You healed Rori too? Thank you for that. She doesn’t deserve what happened. She’s beautiful and--”

  The angel’s fist tightened around the hilt of his wicked-looking blade, and he bit off his words. The angel snarled, “About that…” and leaned into Raine’s face.

  Two days later, Rori woke to the familiar walls of Dec’s penthouse. The flood of memories struck her hard, and she fell back against the pillows, panting with fear, waiting to feel excruciating pain.

  Dec poked his head into the doorway and said with irritating cheerfulness, “Good. You’re up. How are you feeling?”

  Throwing off the sheet, she yanked the t-shirt over her head before frantically taking inventory. How was this possible? No burns? No cuts? Not a single sign she’d been in the middle of an explosion.

  With eyes drilling into him, she demanded, “What the hell happened? Why am I not dead? Where’s Raine?”

  Dec sighed, long and heavy, annoyance clear. “You’re not dead because it’s not time for you to die. Raine is also not dead. Jesus, what is it with you two? Are you in love with him?”

  “What? No!” She narrowed her eyes, suddenly sure he was actually jealous. “Why do you care?”

  “Never you mind, sweetheart. Just get up and get dressed. Today’s an important day. There are some of Mica’s things in that dresser. I think they’ll fit you.” With one last lopsided grin, he closed the door.

  Thirty minutes later, she was showered and dressed in Mica’s clothes. The jeans were a little loose on her narrow hips, but they were flattering enough. She’d chosen a purple Henley with tiny pearl snaps. A rummage in the closet turned up a pair of well-worn black leather combat boots. These were the last things she’d ever want to wear, but there weren’t any real options. It was either the boots or nothing. Her sandals were nowhere to be found. Since her heavy hair took forever to dry, she twisted most of it and secured it to the top of her head with a simple plastic clip. A couple of long locks fell out to frame her face. Huh. Not bad.

  She was surprised to find others in the kitchen when she rushed in. She’d been expecting only Declan, but Sean was there too.

  “Glad to see you’re up and moving, Rori.” Sean gestured for her to come in and have a seat. “You scared the hell out of us.”

  Dec shoved a plate of waffles in her direction and said around a mouthful, “Help yourself. The hotel makes awesome waffles, and I know you’re starving. There’s juice and coffee too.” He shoveled another huge forkful into his mouth and caught a bit of escaping syrup with the tip of his tongue.

  He was entirely too cute. With his streaky blond bangs brushing his eyes, that adorable smile, and those eyes… he was a triple threat to her hormones. She drank him in despite her plan to get information and then leave post haste. She was more than a little freaked out by all this. She didn’t really have time to lust over him… but the body doesn’t always follow the mind’s instructions, does it?

  “I’d like some answers. I think I deserve them.”

  The two guys shared some extended eye contact before Dec nodded and turned back with resignation written all over his face.

  “You’re right. You do deserve them. The problem is I’m not supposed to tell you. It’s a family secret.”

  “I can keep a secret, Dec. God knows I’ve got enough of my own. What’s one more?”

  He exhaled hard through his nose and started to pace. His version of pacing was really more like stalking… his long legs ate up the space as he moved between the foyer entrance and the French doors leading to the patio. Clearly this wasn’t easy for him.

  Sean studied her from under half-closed eyes. After a minute, he said, “Go ahead, bro. Tell her about your abilities. She’s not going to tell anyone.”

  Dec started, opening his mouth to protest, but then seemed to change his mind. A slow grin teased his dimples into a full appearance. “Fine. But you have to swear not to tell anyone else.”

  “Fine. I swear as long as you don’t try to tell me you’re some kind of guardian angel like Castiel. That would be totally nuts.” She joked because that’s what she did when she was nervous.

  That comment seemed to sober everyone but herself. Sean gave her an intense stare and said, “I’ve met Castiel. Dec’s nothing like him.”

  Dec elbowed him in the gut and rolled his eyes. “Not helping.”

  “You two are beyond weird. Can we just get to the truth telling?”

  Dec reddened and said stiffly, “I have some psychic abilities like you do. That’s how I know what you are. I sense you. We all have some degree of abilities. I can heal people. I healed you and Raine.”

  Her mouth fell open.

  He reached over and gently tapped it shut. “There. Now you know my big dark secret. Happy?”

  “That’s it? You can heal people?”

  “You sound disappointed. What’
s the matter?”

  “Nothing. It’s nothing. I’m just surprised. I guess I should say thank you or offer up my first born son?”

  He waved a hand in dismissal. “No human offerings necessary. It’s a little disturbing that you’d come up with that. If you want to pay me back, I need your help with something.”

  Sean had been standing over by the doors, looking out onto the patio. She guessed he was giving them a little space, but now he sauntered back to them and sprawled across a loveseat. The man moved like a panther. It was sexy as hell. Dec’s eyes narrowed a bit.

  Surely he couldn’t read her thoughts too? One quick glance at his angry expression, and she flushed hotter.

  “Are you reading my mind?”

  Snorting rudely, he snapped, “I don’t have to read your mind; it’s written all over your face. If you were any redder, you’d be on fire.” He pushed himself upright and glared down at her. “I’ll call you a cab.”

  He dialed the cab company before dialing back the uncharacteristic wave of fury that threatened to knock him on his ass. Rubbing his fingers over his jaw in total frustration, he ground his molars together and hissed at the wall. Damn her! Damn him! He shouldn’t give a shit who she looked at. She wasn’t his. He didn’t want her to be. He closed his eyes and fumed, trying to breathe normally, searching for his Zen. It was nowhere to be found. He was just… just… pissed. Who was he kidding? He wanted her to look at him like she’d just looked at Sean. Her face was an open book. She had no idea how transparent she was. She’d undressed Sean with pure womanly appreciation.

  Fuck.

  This sucked ass. What the hell was he doing? Hiding in the bedroom? Sending her home in a cab instead of sucking it up and taking her? She was his charge. He had to get to the bottom of the firebombing. And the demon. And Woodstock. Usually, he was stronger than his emotions. Rori was twisting him into someone he didn’t know, someone he didn’t want to be. He didn’t need this in his life! How the hell did she worm her way under his skin?