Soulless (The Immortal Gene Trilogy Book 1)

by Jacinta Maree

  “I’ve rested enough.” I jumped a little as I heard Diesel’s voice answer from behind the wall. The hiss of running water followed as he turned on the tap.

  “We’ll get you started right away on the heavier dose of the tea. Most of the D400 has been cleared out of your system so you should be running functionally within a couple of days.” The nurse placed the canister of tea on his bedside before returning to her notes. “It’s advisable that you remain on your meds for another two weeks, just to be safe the infection is completely gone. We would also like to schedule for a check-up next Tuesday.”

  “That’s fine.”

  “Good, please just wait here while I go get the doctor.”

  I waited for the nurse to leave before I quietly crept across the hallway and stood at Diesel’s door. He must not have seen me walk in yet as he took the tea canister and emptied the contents down the sink. He then bowed his head and cupped his hands, splashing the water over his face. Surrounding the sink basin was shaving cream, a razor, a pair of scissors and cuttings of black hair. He wasn’t wearing a shirt and I saw the scar cut across his back toward his shoulder blade. The wound was pink and pulled closed with smooth scarred skin.

  I hesitated before I spoke. “You’re looking well rested.”

  The muscles in Diesel’s back pinched as he slowly lowered his hands onto the basin and turned around to face me. Along with the clear shaven jawline, Diesel had also trimmed his hair so it didn’t bunch around his neck like a tangle of black thorns.

  “Nadia…” he said back in greeting. Hearing him say my name pulled back my memories from last night. His wet, hot breath. His dark smouldering eyes becoming lost among the thick shadows. The spot where he bit me throbbed against my neck. I wanted him to bite me again. “You’re spying on me?”

  “Pfft, you wish.” My heart quickened at his question. I tightened my scowl, refusing to be the only one who’s flustered.

  Diesel smiled as he turned the taps off. “Get dressed, we’re leaving. Right now.”

  “What about your check up?” My voice held some resentment in it, something I didn’t mean to convey to him. I was mad but I didn’t want him to know he had gotten to me last night. Call it stubbornness; I didn’t like Diesel knowing he had triggered an emotional outburst in me.

  “If I didn’t agree, they wouldn’t let me go. It’s easier to lie.” He pulled his top over his head and smoothed back his dampened hair.

  “Well…” I paused as the weight of my next few words felt too heavy to speak. “Are we… are we going to talk about it?”

  Diesel looked at me. “About what?”

  An uncomfortable shift pulled from my throat and into my chest. “I feel like I need to explain myself.”

  “About what?” He asked again more sternly.

  I squirmed, feeling stupid how flustered I was. Did it really not bother him? “Well, you know? You came into my room last night and I was upset about Tristan and… I just needed to clear my mind and last night you were so, you know? It was… I mean we were. And Tristan—”

  “What’s your point?” Diesel sharply interrupted. His face remained cold but his eyes tightened.

  “My point is…” I continued, “About what happened between us, it wasn’t…I mean I wasn’t-” I stalled and felt my cheeks burn under his stare. Maybe I was reading too much into it? Maybe Diesel didn’t think it was important to explain why we did the things we did? His unnerved reaction only left me feeling more anxious. “Actually, it’s nothing. Don’t worry about it. I’ll go get my stuff from Mary. You wait here.”

  I left the hospital quickly while mentally slapping myself over and over again. Of course it didn’t mean anything. Why am I so stupid? What, he kisses you and you think he’s in love with you? You’re such an idiot! I slapped my forehead for real, squirming with embarrassment. Come on, Nadia! Get your act together. As I rushed through the town I had almost missed the anxious chatter that filled the streets. I slowed and glanced up at the thin blanket of smoke drifting over from the fields. There was a fire? How did I not know that? Considering how sleep deprived I was, maybe it wasn’t that surprising I had missed the commotion.

  I continued on until I reached Mary’s house and knocked on her door. Instead, it was Father Patrick who pulled the door aside. Behind him, Mary pushed back her chair as she stood. She smiled weakly. “Nadia?”

  Being distracted by Diesel I had almost forgotten how hated I was among the community. Nerves fluttered around my stomach and I swallowed to keep my tone calm. “I won’t be long; I’ve come for my things.”

  Father Patrick stepped aside to allow me entrance. “I’m glad you’re here. You better come inside. I need to speak with you.”

  I sat down at the table with Father Patrick and Mary sitting opposite me. They exchanged brief, saddened glances as though pained by unbearable news.

  “How are you feeling?” Father Patrick started, but the question felt too forced to be sincere.

  “Fine.”

  Mary quickly chipped in, “You look exhausted. I was meaning to visit.”

  I glanced at her, my eyebrows tightened. “No you didn’t.” I didn’t mean to say it in a hateful way, and Mary licked her lips at her lie.

  “The loss of Tristan was hard on all of us.”

  “I didn’t mean...” I started as Mary lifted her hand to silence me.

  “We don’t blame you, Nadia. We know it was an accident.”

  My shoulders lowered in relief. “You don’t?”

  “I was just mad but I shouldn’t have blamed you. I’m sorry.”

  Father Patrick shuffled forward in his chair. “Nadia, I’ve been meaning to ask you, what were you doing before you reached Sanctuary? Where are you going? What are you planning?”

  I glanced over at Father Patrick to find his face tight in his concern. “Does it matter?”

  “Yes, of course, my dear.” He inhaled a shaky breath. “I fear you do not understand how important you could be.”

  I leaned forward. “Important? In what way?”

  Father Patrick reached into his inner vest pocket and pulled out a slim, parchment. The spine of the paper was torn, suggesting it had been ripped from a book. “Back in 2200, when reincarnation emerged among the main population, there was a written scripture from the very first returned soul. Originally, all the souls that returned repeated this script, but as time passed, the message was soon dismissed and then forgotten. It was a promise of a saviour. I have the script here. It’s missing parts but it’s still readable.”

  He turned the script toward me and slid it across the table. I noticed on the top right corner were the page numbers 594 in smudged black print. The entire page looked worn and thin. The print had faded with time and the paper dirtied from the oil on our fingers. I turned it toward me and skimmed over the small passage.

  Among the souls of man, a Soulless will be born of inhuman blood—at the end of the cycle only the Soulless — lift the plague, freeing man back to ghosts.

  My eyebrows scrunched in my concentration. “I don’t understand. Inhuman blood?” I flipped over the paper to see if there was more. “Freeing man back to ghosts? Why are you showing me this?”

  “Because I believe that this passage was foretelling your existence.”

  I scoffed, “What? That’s insane.”

  “It’s true, isn’t it?” Mary quickly butted in. “That you don’t have a soul imprint. Even the Father…”

  I pushed off the table into an abrupt stand. “Listen, you’re not the first person to think I’m some mutant destined to cure our reincarnated problems. I’ve already been tested and my blood can’t undo the madness.”

  “It’s not to cure the madness.” Father Patrick shuffled uncomfortably in his seat. “It will cure the plague.”

  I shook my head. “The plague of what?”

  “I believe it means to end all of reincarnation. To return to the way things were before.”

  I could hear him speak but the words
didn’t make sense. My first response was to laugh. I looked at Father Patrick then to Mary smiling, waiting for ‘Got cha’ moment. But they remained quiet and on edge, their bodies just as apprehensive as I felt. They were being completely serious. My head felt swollen and heavy as though pumped with water. My smile slowly dropped. But it’s impossible. I can’t be this Soulless character! I swallowed the thick lump in my throat and dropped my gaze to my feet. It was ridiculous, right? Panic ran the course of my veins, pumping my heart faster and shortening my breaths. “This isn’t funny.”

  “We only want to help you,” Father Patrick soothed but I snapped my hand back from his reach.

  “Help me? I’ve had plenty of people try to ‘help’ me.” I buried my forehead into my palm to muffle my laughter. “This is ridiculous. I’m not this Soulless prophecy.”

  “There’s only one way to find out for sure.” Father Patrick took the parchment back and then proceeded to pull out a tin box with a syringe kept inside. “It says of inhuman blood. If your blood is not human, then we know the passage is about you.”

  “Do you think I’ve never had a blood test before? If I had inhuman blood, I would know it.”

  “Please, Nadia?” Mary pleaded. “Just a small drop. We have to be sure.”

  I looked at Mary then back to Father Patrick, feeling the prick of their stares poke at me at every angle. I eased myself down onto the chair. “Fine, if it gets you off my back, you can test it.” I turned to Mary. “Before you start jabbing me with needles, can I have a glass of water?”

  Mary stood. “Yes of course, one second.”

  I wrung my hands together as my mind cleared. Mary stepped out of the room and I turned back to Father Patrick. “How are you going to test it?”

  “Well, I don’t believe they mean inhuman as in texture or colour. As you said, you’ve been tested before and your blood would be made up with normal human DNA properties. I believe it’s something like a reaction that’s inhuman.”

  “A reaction to what?”

  “I’m not sure. We will have to run some tests.”

  “Can I see the parchment again?” I asked. Father Patrick glanced down as I leaped across the table and drove my fist into his face. I hit him hard and fast, punching the glasses off his face and causing a small spurt of blood to shoot out from his nose. I punched him again so he hit the table unconscious.

  “Sorry…” I mouth as I quickly got up and hid behind the wall. Mary walked in a few moments later and gasped as the sight of Father Patrick. I caught her in a chokehold as she dropped the glass and clutched at my arms, trying to free her airways.

  “I’m sorry…” I said above her wheezing. “But you’re wrong. I’m not the Soulless.” I kicked at the back of her knee causing Mary to stagger off balance so I could tighten my hold. She struggled for longer than I felt comfortable before she eventually went limp.

  Carefully, I placed her on the ground and took three steps back. My internal voice dashed around my head in panicked sprints. Oh, crap! Do I kill them? What do I do? I cupped my hand to my mouth and paced the length of the room. It felt like the most logical solution: dead people couldn’t talk. Not until they returned, but that that wasn’t a concern right now.

  I went into the kitchen and got out the kitchen knife. The blade felt unnaturally heavy and uncomfortable in my grasp. Just one quick sideways jerk and their lives would be over. It would be quick with minimum struggle.

  I grabbed onto the ruff of Father Patrick’s hair and pulled his head back, opening up his neck. I pressed the blade against the pink of his throat as a different part of my subconscious kept making me to hesitate. I was acting too rashly. Just because there’s some passage about a Soulless, doesn’t mean it’s me. I may be killing them for nothing. Hesitation locked up my body and I released Father Patrick’s head and accidentally dropped his forehead heavily against the wood. “Oops! Shit!”

  I turned away and paced the lounge once more. I couldn’t do it. I put the knife back and quickly searched for my backpack. As well as taking some of Mary’s dried foods and water bottles, I helped myself to some of her thicker jackets and hats.

  I glanced over their unconscious bodies once more before taking the parchment from Father Patrick’s jacket and pocketed it.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN:

  Anxiously, I headed back toward the hospital trying to cover my swollen knuckles when Diesel approached me from the street. He tugged on my elbow and pulled me into the alley, out of sight. I grabbed my chest out of fright. “Jesus! You scared me! Why aren’t you at the hospital?”

  Diesel’s hair that was usually left in a tangled weed had been combed to the side. His clothes were tucked in and his shoulders slouched in his calm demeanour. Even his face that was usually pinched in a permanent scowl had relaxed. “I got tired of waiting.”

  “Whatever, we’re leaving now.” I pulled on his shirt and into a march.

  “Sounds good to me. I’m sick of this shit hole!” he claimed as fell into step behind me. “But I gotta ask, where are we going exactly?”

  “As far away from here as possible.” I pulled him along until I reached the boarder gates patrolling the town’s perimeter. The men manning the entrance looked at me puzzled. “Let me through.”

  “Do you have the necessary documentations to get back in?” One of the men asked in a drawled accent.

  “We don’t need it. We’re not coming back.”

  They exchanged brief glances before the man shrugged, unbothered. “Your funeral.” They stepped aside and allowed Diesel and me to exit.

  We were back on foot following the lone road heading out of Sanctuary’s boarders. I marched without looking back, fearful Father Patrick and Mary had teamed everyone together to hunt us down with pitchforks. I needed to get as far away as possible from there. Diesel walked one step behind me. Despite the touch of his attention on my back, my mind felt miles away.

  “Nadia? Nadia? Nadia, stop!” I stumbled out of my day dreaming at Diesel’s voice. “What the hell are we doing?”

  “Huh? What?”

  “Unless you’ve forgotten, all of my critical and important documents for the contacts have all been lost. We have nothing.”

  “You can make more though, yeah? Vance and Frankie—”

  Diesel scoffed and rolled his eyes, interrupting me. “Just make more? You have no idea how long it took me to perfect the outline of the soul imprint! And don’t talk to me about Vance and Frankie! Those traitors! I have half the mind to go back there just to kick their asses!”

  “Wait, what? Don’t you remember?” It took me a moment to recall Diesel had been out of it for most of the ambush. I softened my voice. “Frankie was killed in the attack, and it was thanks to Vance’s sacrifice that you and I made it out.”

  “Yeah, well shit happens. What the hell are we doing?” he growled without a hint of remorse.

  I glanced down in thought. Geez, no compassion. But he’s right. What do we do now? Frankie and Vance’s plan wouldn’t work without the contacts or blue prints, but like Diesel said, all of his work had most likely been incinerated. “We’re going to the Blue Dons.”

  “The Blue Dons?” Diesel repeated. “Why?”

  “They can help us.”

  Diesel’s roaring laughter ran up my spine like fingers, “Ha ha ha, what? That’s your ingenious plan? Why on earth would they want to help us?” He proceeded to wipe a tear away. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. They’re hired mercenaries! The only way they’ll help you is if you got the cash or the drugs to pay em off.”

  I spun to face him. “Fine, what do you suggest we do then?”

  “We head toward the Mad Dogs. That’s what we planned to do in the beginning.”

  “Pfft! There’s no way in hell we’re going to those lunatics.”

  “Lunatics?” Diesel’s laughing tone dropped. “And what the hell do you know about the Mad Dogs?”

  “What are they aside from a bunch of pea-brained terrorists?
”

  “And by they you mean me?”

  I scrunched my face up. “What? No, that’s not what I meant.”

  “Then what did you mean?” Diesel stepped up to me and jerked his head forward. “You may see me as just some crazed extremist, but don’t forget the contacts were my invention. I’m also the one that got you out of Alpha prison!”

  “And I saved you from being cooked alive,” I snapped back.

  “We were only in that predicament because of those stupid I.O.S twins! It’s you and me, Nadia. No one else. No Blue Dons, no I.O.S, no…” He gestured back to Sanctuary with a sharp jab. “Stupid redneck farmers called Tristan. Just us!”

  My eyebrows perked up. “Tristan? What has this got to do with Tristan?”

  Diesel snarled, “Nothing, like I care about some dumb hick!”

  “Why are you so mad?”

  “Geez, I dunno.” Diesel circled me tauntingly. “Maybe it has something to do with the fact we’re in the middle of freaking nowhere, and you didn’t even think to steal a car or prepare anything for when we left? Are you really that stupid?”

  My own voice rose to match his shouting. “What the hell did you expect me to do? We’re lucky they didn’t shoot us back in the forest to begin with!”

  “Oh, you’re right. Aren’t we just so lucky?” Diesel sarcastically cheered. “You know what, I am just so overjoyed with my good luck. Why don’t we just forget about the D400 and go back to your best pal, Tristan?”

  “Stop it, Diesel!”

  “Oh, wait! We can’t, can we? I forgot that you killed him!”

  I spun and threw my fist into his cheek. On impact, my swollen knuckle ached, clipping the strong bone of his jaw and falling off course. Diesel barely budged. I went to strike again but he caught my wrists and squeezed hard enough I thought my bones were going to shatter.

  He then held them restrained to my side. “Oh, hit a nerve, did I?”

  “You’re an asshole.”