Broken Souls (Primani Book 4)

by Laurie Olerich

  It would be interesting to watch her stitch herself up.

  Sucking in a huge deep breath, he laid his hand on the top of her chest with every intention of waking her, but hesitated. The steady thud of her heart vibrated against his hand, its voice strong and true. It was a beautiful sound. Leaning carefully across, he kissed her forehead, just once. At the touch of his mouth, she visibly relaxed, sliding even deeper into rest, trusting him even in her sleep. Likely because she was asleep… Ah, hell. She was dragging him under again. He gave in to his need to touch her and traced the shape of her face with a gentle sweep of his lips. With eyes closed, he could see her laughing again.

  “Please don’t hate me.”

  The forest was quiet at this time of day. With sunset only a few minutes away, the critters were settling in for the night. On the bank of a small creek, a fat grey squirrel scolded him because he got too close to its tree. With one last censorious glance over its shoulder, it scampered up the tree and glared down from 20 feet up. He flashed it the peace sign.

  “Chill out, furry dude, I’m on your side. Look, I’ve got a halo and everything!” He let his saol seep out of his skin. The little animal leaned down for a closer inspection, nose twitching madly, chattering with questions.

  “Told you.”

  The dusky light was fading into nothing since there was no moon on the horizon. Easily carrying Rori, he worried about her. She was losing all of the weight she’d gained back. Barely 95 pounds now, she was getting dangerously thin. It had been a week, and still she hadn’t regained consciousness. She wouldn’t wake up, wouldn’t respond to him, his touch, his powers. Her eyes had opened and closed a few times, giving him hope that sent him straight to Hell again when she sank back into oblivion. The first few days, he’d done everything to bring her around. He was on the verge of invading her mind and dragging her back out when Raphael had appeared.

  Luckily, Raphael had stopped him from taking such drastic measures with a touch on his hand. Looking up in misery, he had asked, “How can I fix this? This isn’t right.”

  Raphael had shaken his head with a frown. “She will come around when she’s ready to face the world again. She’s been damaged very badly, Declan. The hurt she feels is more than you can heal with a quick smile and kind words.”

  He had mulled that over and finally said, “I’m what she needs. Isn’t that true? Something about this feels predestined to me. It somehow feels right.”

  “Don’t let your ego give you direction. Understand that this woman is caught in more than she knows, more than she’s ever imagined. Her life was hard… impossible before. Now her reality is nothing as it seemed, her memories are tainted with questions, and her heart is shattered.”

  With concern shining in his eyes, he placed his palm over Dec’s heart. “Do you think we brought you back only to kill demons? This may truly be your biggest challenge; your biggest mission yet. This woman, this tiny, fragile woman, has a purpose. She’s necessary. You will heal her.” He paused for a breath after the intense speech. “And you will do it alone, listening to the forest, and guided by the beat of your own heart.”

  He faced his maker with a renewed sense of awe. Raphael’s touch filled him with purpose, a sense of direction. It gave him strength to do the impossible. He was unbelievably blessed. Dipping his head, he tapped his chest twice in acquiescence. He would do anything for this archangel, his maker. He’d done many things in their past, but now he knew he’d give anything, do anything. That’s what you did for someone you loved, right?

  Raphael had given him a few minutes to process his orders before crossing to Rori’s prone body. With his usual fluid motion, he rested his cheek against hers. After a second, he stood and said, “There’s something about the demon that she knows but has been blocking… for a very long time. She’s trying to shut everything out to protect herself because she’s terrified, but she’s vulnerable to you. Tread gently, my son, and she will come around.”

  He stopped in the center of a trail to pick a direction. Left looked good. The last thing he wanted to do was go trail blazing through the brush with Rori in his arms. Probably she’d be unimpressed with branches slapping her in the face.

  “No scenic route today, love. Lucky for you, I’m a considerate sort of guy.”

  Speaking of slapping… He tucked the loose end of the blanket between them to keep it from flapping around and hitting her in the face. Every time it did, she wrinkled her nose, and he tried not to laugh. When this was over, he was going to rent “Weekend at Bernie’s” again. Before moving on, he pressed a chaste kiss on the tip of her nose and frowned for the millionth time this week. Rori. When will you come back to me?

  “I miss you like crazy.”

  By now most of the tiny wounds had healed on their own. She had tiny scars dotting most of her body, but they would fade with time. He’d resorted to stitching up the larger wounds without magic. She wouldn’t be happy with the scars, but hell, she’d ordered him not to heal her. He would argue that she’d healed herself--totally natural like. All he did was give her first aid, right? She couldn’t be mad about that. He washed out her wounds, dressed them with salve and bandages. Shot her full of antibiotics via her glutes. Stitched up the bad wounds; even gave her a sponge bath without peeking. Lastly, he’d wrapped her up in a robe that Killian had brought with a bag of Mica’s things. He’d done everything possible to ease her mind… to comfort her.

  And still she refused to respond. Well, it was her call, after all. She’d come back to him when she was ready. He knew it in his heart. He sensed it with his mind and every nerve in his body. She was in there, hanging on, holding on…

  He’d be right here.

  He chose the right fork to explore more deeply into the forest. Stopping near a small creek, he planted his butt on a downed tree and settled her against his lap. She fit perfectly in the curve of his arms, if he did say so himself.

  The forest was silent around them. The dayshift critters were tucking in their babies for the night while the nightshift was clocking in. He shivered in a sudden gust of wind. With any luck, the skunks would hang out someplace else tonight. Even though he’d forgiven them for the, uh, misunderstanding on Saturday, he wasn’t ready to forget about it. How the hell he was supposed to explain skunk spray to his comatose patient, he had no idea. She didn’t fully appreciate his powers. Finding a bathtub full of tomato juice at 2:00 in the morning isn’t hard if you can teleport. He sniffed her hair and grinned. Still smelled like spaghetti. Good thing he liked Italian. The little bastards were lucky he didn’t make coats out of them. Yeah, that was one story he was never telling Rori. Probably, she’d kill him.

  Was he weird for digging the smell of rotting leaves? He didn’t think so, but maybe he was a wee bit weird for holding a mental conversation about it… It would snow soon. God, he hoped she’d wake up for that. He wanted to share the first fat flakes with her. He wanted to talk to her. All of this peace and quiet was making him mental. His brain was running in a thousand directions. He really missed conversation.

  “So, darlin’, here we are again. Can you smell the woods? It smells like fall. I know you’ll love it when you wake up. I don’t know if you can hear me or not, but I can’t stand to think of you drowning inside your own head with no one to anchor you. I’m your anchor, Rori.” He stroked the curve of her jaw, leaning down to whisper in her ear, “Follow my voice. Let me pull you back. Follow me.”

  She sighed but showed no signs that she’d heard him. He tucked the tips of her ears under the purple cap he’d pressed over her head. She was beyond adorable, and he couldn’t stop the smile that snuck over his face. If only she was willing…

  “Yesterday I promised to tell you more about my childhood. You know you should feel pretty honored to hear this story. You’re the first human I’ve told. Mica’d be pissed if she knew. Oh, she knows I was born in 426-ish, but I’ve never given her the whole sordid tale. Obviously I think a lot of you, but don’t let that go t
o your head.”

  Probably Rori couldn’t hear a word he said. Probably wouldn’t remember any of this, either. He kind of hoped she didn’t. It wasn’t a pretty sort of story, if truth be told.

  Settling into bard mode, he began with, “Once upon a time, when I was ten or so, my mother took me to another village to visit my cousins. Back then, the villages were pretty small, nothing like the towns and cities we have now. Anyhow, we climbed up on the family donkey and went on this grand adventure. Keep in mind the time I lived in. Back then, people didn’t go wandering about just for fun. You stayed put and lived your life one day at a time. I was ten years old and hadn’t ever been to another village!”

  He paused to picture the softness of his mother’s face. She promised him and his little sister a treat if they’d hurry up and get ready to go. She wanted to get back before dark, and they’d been cranky at being dragged from sleep before dawn. He’d long since given up on wishing he could change what had happened that day. Life taught him there was no going back, no way to right those wrongs, no way to bring the dead back to life. Oh, he’d tried over the years… until one day Raphael had given him other options.

  But that was another story for another day.

  “The day was bright, sunny, and full of promise. I was so excited I wouldn’t stop babbling. My mother was so unbelievably patient with me. I was always talking, always asking questions, nosy and goofy. I was a happy kid.” He flashed an exaggerated toothy smile that stretched his whole face. She couldn’t see his gesture, but he was in storytelling mode. Drama was called for here.

  “Okay, so I’m smiling like an idiot right now. It would be cool if you’d throw me a bone and laugh at me.” He waited a beat before adding, “Nothing? Wow. Tough crowd.”

  “So I helped my little sister, Brigid, onto the donkey and led the way as the young man of the house should do. Brigid was a tiny little thing, barely three years old then. Named for the goddess, she was… she was a sweet, sweet, child. The sun rose and set on her pretty dark head. She was dark where I was light, you see. My father always joked she wasn’t his, but he didn’t mean it. He treated her like a princess. We all did. She was special.”

  It seemed like yesterday. Brigid. Big blue eyes, hair as black as a raven’s wing… innocent smile, deep dimples in her chubby cheeks… he swallowed hard and sighed. She was tiny, defenseless, just a toddler. Just a baby…

  A rustle in the dry leaves caught his attention, pulling him from the dark memories he’d kept buried for over a thousand years. It was only an opossum digging for dinner. Nothing to worry about there.

  Nothing to worry about, true, but his mood was turning south. Time to head home.

  “To be continued.”

  The next morning dawned cold and grey. Wind rattled the window frame every few minutes and whistled over the chimney. Probably wasn’t the best weather for a miracle, but he’d take whatever he could get. He was easy that way. Shivering with the abrupt temperature change, he stepped out of the glass shower with a towel in his hand and a grimace on his face. The hot water tank left a lot to be desired. He dreamed of a much longer shower. He bent to rub the water out of his hair and snapped upright again, listening for anything that shouldn’t be there. The cabin was quiet as a tomb. It was making him jumpy. He needed some noise, something to break up the quiet. He’d been talking to himself again. God, he hoped she didn’t wake up when he was in the middle of that! He cracked the bedroom door. Maybe today would be the day? She was lying on her back, hands tucked under the covers, exactly as he left her the night before. Naked and dripping, he squatted beside her.

  “Good morning, sweet girl. I’m in the mood for a miracle. What do you say you hook me up? We’re going hiking again, and it’s cold as a witch’s tit out there. Maybe that’ll wake you up?”

  No response. No surprise.

  He pumped out a couple hundred pushups and sit ups before dragging on his favorite jeans and a navy thermal shirt that he left open at the throat. Socks and beloved leather boots completed his look. He ran a comb through the tangles of his hair before shaking it out so it could just fall however it wanted. Deciding it was too cold to shave, he left the two days growth alone. After all, no one was checking him out, were they?

  Now came the fun part. Rori. He wanted her to wake up more than anything, but he really hoped it wouldn’t happen when he was taking her clothes off. That would be, um, awkward. He sang “Sex on Fire” while undressing her as quickly as possible. Not going to look, not going to look. Every day he made that promise… right before he broke it. He had such good intentions, but hell, he was a man. Bare breasts were a work of art. Hers were masterpieces--small and round--perky with pale rose nipples. If he wanted to torture himself, he’d close his eyes and conjure up the memory of his hands cupping those soft mounds that day he’d kissed her last summer. That sort of memory made bad things happen inside his pants.

  “Not looking. Not looking,” he murmured under his breath.

  Damn. Her nipples were hard in the chilly air, practically begging him to bend over and warm them with his mouth.

  Instead of helping her out, he grumbled, “I am Iron Man,” and hummed a few bars of the song.

  Mental note: Call Mica for a bra.

  And maybe a chastity belt.

  Just to be sure she hadn’t sprouted any malignant tumors since yesterday, he ran his eyes down her belly to the concave playground right above her…

  “Nope, no tumors. That’s a relief. Good to check, though. Just to be sure.” She was beautiful all the way down. He gently lifted her knees to slip on clean panties and a pair of heavy sweatpants. They were too big for her, but they’d keep her warm. After slipping her arms into a sweater, he wiped her face and brushed her hair.

  “Come on, love. Let’s commune with Mother Nature before she gets bitchy.”

  The wind had died down a bit by the time he’d trudged through the heavy leaf cover and found the granite niche he was hunting for. The last Ice Age had conveniently scattered massive chunks of granite all over the region. Time and Mother Earth herself manipulated them into interesting works of art and the occasional handy cave. He’d found this spot two days ago and couldn’t wait to explore. Directing energy into the palm of one hand, he used it as a flashlight to check out the interior. The front opening was a good six feet across with the back wall only sitting about four feet deep. Not really a cave; more of an alcove created when these house-sized boulders tumbled like dominos. Perfect. It just happened to overlook a creek that had several downed trees spanning across in a natural bridge. The crystal clear water gurgled and hissed as it bounced over the rocks that littered the bed. A grassy clearing was visible to the right, and he crossed his fingers for some deer to show up. After spreading a thick blanket on the ground, he propped Rori into a comfortable sitting position against the wall. A sudden sense of rightness tingled down his spine. Leaning in, he thumbed the feathery softness of her eyelashes as they swept across her cheekbone. He dropped his lips to her temple and sent his thoughts to her.

  Follow my voice, Rori. Come on baby girl, follow my voice. I miss you.

  He nearly lost his balance when she murmured in response. She stiffened before going limp once more.

  Chafing her hands between his, he felt hope for the first time in days. “That’s it. Follow the sound of my voice. I’m your anchor. Reach for me! I can protect you. The demon will have to go through me to get to you, and I won’t let him do that.”

  No response.

  I’m your anchor. Reach for me!

  He squeezed her hands one last time before letting them go. It was back to square one. There was, however, a tingle of recognition this time. He saw the spark of Rori’s soul glimmering inside of her. It would be soon.

  After wedging himself behind her, he settled her between his legs, caging her with his arms so she would stay warm. Cranking up his inner thermostat, he cocooned her in the warmth before resting his cheek against her hair.

  “Stub
born wench.”

  A grey squirrel hopped across one of the makeshift bridges, nose twitching, ears cocked. Unafraid, he ventured closer until he was a dozen feet or so in front of their resting place. It stopped and stood on its hind legs, eyes flicking between them and the grassy clearing.

  “Lose your nuts?” He tossed a chunk of apple from his pocket. It bounced a few times before rolling to a stop in a clump of dead leaves. The squirrel crept towards it, stopping every few inches to check for booby traps, tail twitching back and forth.

  “What? You don’t trust me?”

  After a bit more creeping and a lot more staring, his stomach got the best of him. Rushing the last few steps, he snatched up the fruit, sniffed, and took a nibble. He closed his beady eyes in bliss before taking off like a rocket. Huh. Animals were a trip.

  “It’s going to rain today, so we have to make this quick. I’ll tell you the next chapter of my life story before we head back. I don’t want you to get wet.” That would be bad. She could catch a cold… he couldn’t have that, could he? He’d be forced by common decency to take steps to keep her from getting sick.

  His imagination drummed up a tasty scene showing him stripping her naked and laying her gently into a steaming hot bath. Her hair would be piled on the top of her head, curling tendrils lying against the smooth skin of her nape… those cat’s eyes of hers warming with passion. They’d darken for him when he slid into the water, lifting her over him, onto him…

  What the hell was he thinking? No! She was absolutely NOT getting a bath. She’d better wake up soon, or she’d be crusty dirty. He’d given her a couple of sponge baths so she’d be comfortable and her wounds wouldn’t get infected. The wounds were mostly healed now, leaving him fresh out of valid excuses. He’d never touch her while she was in a coma, for God’s sake. He wasn’t a pig. But that didn’t mean he could stop his imagination from spinning out of control. He couldn’t help getting aroused. If she was any other female, it’d be easier to deal with. He’d just shut his sex drive off for the time being and finish the job. Piece of cake.