Unforgiven: A Soulkeepers Novel (The Soulkeepers Book 3)

by Lori Adams

  “Yes,” Dad decides. “It must be a good omen. Everything has turned out as it should have. Dante is gone. Sophia has completed her training and is safe and sound. Now I would like to apologize for overreacting earlier. I can see now that my daughter was in very capable hands. I had absolutely nothing to worry about.”

  Dad’s words are full of such faith that I can hardly believe the worst is yet to come.

  Chapter 2

  Michael

  Michael glared at each family member, methodically assessing their emotions. Katarina and Dimitri were wise enough to respect his anger and not provoke him. Uriel found sanctuary on the sofa next to Milvi, who refused to look Michael in the eye. Gabe had grown pensive by the unexpected revelations, while Raph crossed his arms over his chest, resolute in the part he had played. When Uncle Pavvo and Aunt Sasha headed toward the door, Michael yelled.

  “Stop! No one is leaving here until I am made aware of everything that’s been going on without my knowledge.” He looked sharply at his parents. “As a Halo warrior, my authority now exceeds anyone here. And I expect nothing less than the quality of your holy vows.”

  No one stirred as he braced himself for an argument. Gradually the implication took hold and the others nodded.

  “And we’ll expect the same from you,” Raph stated with an edge in his voice.

  “Meaning what?” Michael barked out. He spread his arms. “I am here. I have not been disavowed. There is no shadow across my light.”

  Raph continued cautiously. “I mean…regarding Sophia.”

  “Make yourself clear,” Michael said. “If you have an allegation against me, speak up. Now. Or be silent.”

  Raph clenched his jaw and swept an angry look at the others. No one shared his suspicions, or was willing to voice them now. Authority had shifted. Raph had to submit as the others had.

  “And what, in particular, has you so upset, Michael?” Katarina asked. “Sophia has completed her trials and achieved her Chelsea Light. She is a spirit walker now. We should all be thankful.”

  Michael chose to move past his anger about not being asked to help Sophia with her Awakening. In truth, he wasn’t sure he could have helped her. He had probably even made it more difficult on her, a mistake he planned to rectify. Yes, he had become obsessed by the idea that it was too dangerous for her. He was ashamed to admit that they had been right in excluding him. But now they had another issue that he would not ignore.

  “Am I the only one who noticed the change in her aura?” Michael asked, marching across the room.

  “I did.” Milvi looked up. “I noticed her aura. It was different than before.”

  “Muted,” Uriel offered.

  “Kind of foggy,” Raph said with a touch of accusation in his tone. “I thought you said she was exhausted from killing Wolfgang. That she was having trouble controlling her new spiritual energy.”

  Michael could see that everyone felt the same as he did; something significant had changed in Sophia, far beyond just activating her Chelsea Light. That alone would revolutionize her aura. But her internal light should have magnified and sharpened her aura, not diffused it.

  “I don’t like it,” Michael murmured, more to himself than to the others. Frustrated and restless, he scrubbed a hand through his hair. He should have trusted his first instinct and demanded she explain what had happened. Now he couldn’t shake the feeling that she was covering something up.

  “And what of her weapons?” Uncle Pavvo asked.

  “The Council must be told,” Dimitri said. “Her weapons radiated along with her spiritual light. We all saw them. They were hard to miss. It’s best if I tell The Council before they hear it from someone else.”

  “Anyone ever seen anything like it before?” Raph asked. “As cool as it was, I’ve never even heard of a spirit walker’s weapons glowing.”

  “It comes from an excess of energy,” Katarina offered. As a Seer for The Council of Guardians, she had a wide range of knowledge regarding weapons, devices, or holy relics used by spiritual entities. The others seemed to trust her insight on these matters because no one questioned her.

  “Well, we all know Sophia has been the most unusual human we’ve ever come across,” Raph said. “Why should this be any different?”

  “But why such a high level of energy?” Gabe mused. He sat down in a chair, absently tugging at his eyebrow.

  “Find out,” Michael ordered. He raised his chin and gave the family a hard look. “We need to know everything about Sophia. Gabe, you find out the source of her energy. Ask her fellow spirit walkers why they seemed intimidated by her. They’ve gone through similar training; they’ll know more than any of us what she’s been through. And talk to the Halos from the ceremony. Find out why they treated her differently.”

  “Do you still feel the second heartbeat when she’s around?” Gabe asked, reminding Michael that his brother had been researching their unique connection. The answer was plain on Michael’s face, so Gabe continued. “Nothing changed after she gained her Chelsea Light? After her spiritual energy went beyond full capacity?”

  Michael considered how much to reveal. The moment Sophia had gasped at the ceremony and clutched her chest, he’d felt a surge to his own system, a stabbing pain that smothered out the second heartbeat for several seconds. Instinct told him not to admit everything, but too much had changed. He wouldn’t ignore the fact that something had happened to her. Sophia was hiding something that caused her adrenaline to skyrocket. In that one moment, she’d radiated more fear than ever before. He had to find out what she was so afraid of.

  He told Gabe about his pain and skipped heartbeats. He explained how it returned to “normal” after Sophia calmed herself down, after she gained control of her energy.

  “It’s possible that she was really overcome by everything,” Milvi offered. “I saw the bloody clothes she wore when she killed Wolfgang. Poor girl had been drenched in demon blood. That would freak me out, too.”

  “Why don’t I just ask her what’s going on?” Raph asked.

  “You will stay away from her,” Michael ordered, his voice tight with nerves.

  “Why?” Raph demanded.

  “Because I have something else to occupy you. Find out what happened at the dance. Why Dante was there and where he’s gone. As far as I know, Dante and Vaughn were not with Wolfgang when he attacked Sophia. The lesser demons disappeared the moment Wolfgang died. There has to be more to his unexpected visit.” He turned toward the sofa.

  “Milvi, ask the demon hunters what they might know. They trained Sophia for weeks. They were fighting alongside her when she made the kill. I want to know what was said between Sophia and Wolfgang. I want to know every word Wolfgang uttered. Understand?” She nodded. “Dimitri, you inform the school that I’ve withdrawn. Tell them…I joined the Navy. Use the usual protocol.” He flicked his hand, indicating that the Messenger for The Council knew well how to deflect suspicion from the family. “And now, Katarina. Tell me why Celeste St. James would ask you for help.”

  “She feared for Sophia’s safety because Dante—”

  “No!” Michael snapped, and then calmed himself. She was purposely misdirecting him. “Why would Celeste know to ask you for help?”

  Katarina bristled with irritation. For the first time in Michael’s memory, the Seer showed willingness to defy the ranks of authority. She seemed angered by his insistence in knowing things about Sophia. But as a veteran leader of many guardian families over the centuries, Katarina maintained control and responded in a cool, crisp tone.

  “I know Celeste. We met at the Borderlands. We became friends. She shared her concerns about Sophia, and I sympathized.” She tilted her head in challenge against Michael’s calculating assessment.

  She was decisively vague. Michael could sense her guarded nature. She was coveting secrets, and her defiance boiled his blood. He stepped toward her, preparing to demand more, but Raph caught his arm.

  “You’ve given your orders, Mic
hael. So tell us what you’ll be doing to find out what happened to Sophia.” Raph’s sharp tone left no doubt as to his resentment. Months ago, he’d been excited at the idea of having a brother guardian climb the ranks to the Halos. Now it seemed that Raph didn’t care for Michael’s quick rise to power. He might’ve even heard that Michael excelled in the trials and gained respect from the Master Halos who singled him out as unique. More likely, his hostility came from being told to stay away from Sophia.

  Michael suspected that his brother had enjoyed the assignment of watching over her. Raph also might have liked that it irritated Michael. Why he should like upsetting a brother guardian, Michael didn’t know. Perhaps Raph thought Michael had broken his vow and had unnatural affection for Sophia. Perhaps he knew for sure that it was true.

  Michael’s eyes grew tight but he spoke softly, deliberately. “You do not want to provoke me, Raphael. Once, we trained together. We were brother guardians, but do not forget your place. Do not question me or my motives now. Do you understand?” He jerked his arm from Raph’s grasp.

  Raph contemplated his options and then stepped back and gave an exaggerated bow. “You have my loyalty, as always.”

  His elaborate, sarcastic display only tossed fuel on the fire. But Michael wondered if he’d gone too far with his demands. He wondered if his desire for Sophia had clouded his judgment. His need to protect her was making a tyrant out of him. Desperation does that to a man. But it also heightens the senses and sharpens the focus. And Michael would use that to his advantage. He knew without question that Sophia’s secret would be his to discover. He just hoped it wasn’t something that would pull them apart, again.

  Chapter 3

  Dante

  Searing pain radiated through Dante’s arm when the green chain tattoo beneath his black Armani tuxedo came to life. The unholy tether, wrought of fire and black magic, had risen around his biceps and began systematically yanking him from Haven Hurst back to the gates of Hell. The initial activation was torturous and nearly brought him to his knees, but he’d resisted the urge to collapse. Forfeiting his strength would cost him Sophia, not to mention allowing Lord Brutus to win.

  The timing had been calculated with nothing more than intuition and luck; Dante, unaware that he held a conjured twin in his arms instead of the real Sophia, had been dancing in the ballroom on the third floor of the courthouse at the exact moment his time ran out. But he had been prepared; the instant his tattoo prickled with telling heat, he pulled Ka into a crushing embrace. Then he scanned the dance floor and found Vaughn in his tux and bow tie. He was marching toward them and loosening the tie. Vaughn shared the same demonic tether that bound them to Hell. Green vapors seeped through his coat sleeve, but it was the aggressive look in his eyes that caught Dante’s attention. The Demon of Affliction was rising in Vaughn, relishing the pain created by the tattoo. What tortured Dante, brought pleasure to Vaughn. But his craving was not satisfied; Dante could see Vaughn’s need—he wanted to Take Bailey to Hell. At the last moment, Vaughn reached for her…and missed. Violent winds pulled him sideways. Together with Dante and Ka they swirled into a black abyss that dissipated as quickly as it had risen. In the blink of an eye, they vanished from the dance floor with only the slightest disturbance to the surrounding guests. Someone had left a window open, surely, for there could be no other explanation for the sudden gust of wind.

  All around Dante was blackness, whipping winds, and sorrowful cries. The funnel was steaming hot and flashing with jagged bolts of lightning. Each strike brought a glimpse of red velvet from Ka’s dress, white from her pale skin, and sparkles from the jewels at her wrist.

  The abyss tilted, spun in vicious circles, and then spit them out to roll across a craggy ground. A scream pierced the air and Dante, having lost hold of Ka, feared the worst.

  “Sophia!” He scrambled to his feet but a cloud of dust marred his vision. He raised a protective arm, coughing and squinting. He heard a whimper and wheeled around. Through the haze of dirt came the outline of a dark figure slumped against rocks. He rushed to her. “Il mio amore!”

  His hands trembled as he cupped her face and brushed back her hair. Ka blinked dust from her eyes. “Dante?” she whispered, and then broke up coughing.

  Dante sagged with relief. She had survived. He cradled her body, shushing her moans while he looked around. Beyond the pile of rocks was a vast, hopeless desert that glowed with thick red veins of lava in every direction. Like bleeding cracks in a dry, infested carcass, the land had never offered any sign of hope. Overhead, a dark, smoky lid was a smothering dome. Desolate and oppressive, much like the odor of decay that clung to the air. It was not a place where life had ever grown, and Dante loathed passing it on his way to and from the surface. To be dropped here now puzzled him. They had a long way to go still, so why end the trip here?

  Vaughn was splayed over a boulder, mangled as though his spine had been shattered. He seemed dead for all the world, but then his eyes opened and he sucked in a deep breath. After a moment, his head turned and his eyes swept the area for someone else. Seeing that Bailey had not been Taken, he turned back and scowled at the hovering darkness.

  Ka pulled herself upright. “What in God’s name happened?”

  “Wrong deity.” Santiago scoffed as he sauntered from behind the pile of stones. “But we get your meaning.” He had been waiting for what seemed like hours when the mother of all sandstorms blew him inside the mouth of a cave. He brushed dust from the two backpacks slung over his shoulders. “Lemme guess. You ran out of time and the tethers yanked your asses back here, right?”

  Dante stood and ripped away his bow tie and suit jacket. His left arm sizzled in pain so he tore away the sleeve as well. The chain tattoo was pulsating and swollen.

  Vaughn grunted and sat up, realigning his spine with a sharp twist. Once his bones were back in place, he shed his jacket, tie, and shirt with quick, vicious movements. Dante could see that Affliction was satisfied with the pain racking its body, but Vaughn was not. He was brooding. To his surprise, Dante felt the stirrings of guilt. He should’ve known Vaughn would want Bailey in Hell with him. He should’ve arranged it somehow but he’d been too obsessed with plans for Sophia.

  “What now?” Vaughn asked, his voice choking with dust. He hacked, spit, and then raised his eyes to Dante. Simultaneously, something tugged at their tethers again, lifting the chain links running down their arms in a rash of sizzling pain. Their eyes locked on each other in a moment of clarity; it wasn’t over.

  Dante grabbed Ka’s hand just as a dark wind spiraled down from the sky. It yanked the slack from his tether and lifted his arm. The black hole sucked all three into its center and then whirled them down the mouth of the cave. Santiago, without a cursed tether, was left to run behind them.

  The funnel dragged them down into the next layer—into the Throat of Hell. It slammed them against walls, grated them around corners, and crashed them into glowing red stalactites. They passed through multiple layers of souls writhing in agony and torture. The blackness was randomly punctuated by flashes of red fire and yellow molten lava bubbling like infected boils. Each passing minute, the air grew hotter and thicker until, once again, the cone vanished and they were thrown to the ground. It seemed that the tethers worked in cycles, yanking them into conduits and spitting them out at various levels until they reached their final destination, the Badlands outside gate five.

  At the end of the last cycle, Ka lay in a crumpled heap, moaning. Her arm was contorted unnaturally at her side. Dante crawled over and maneuvered her shoulder back into place. She cried in sudden pain and then eventually fell to silent panting. Dante’s fiery touch was quick to melt away any further pain.

  “Better?” he murmured tenderly, and she nodded. After a moment, he helped her up and brushed debris from her once-lovely dress. The long red gown was fairly decimated and covered with grime. Ka’s hair had been ripped from the pins, her face smudged with soot, and her arms pockmarked with lacerations. Dante f
ussed over her but she pushed him away, claiming to be fine. She gathered her long hair, brought it around her shoulder, combed it with her fingers, and worked it into an orderly braid. She kicked off the one remaining shoe.

  Vaughn coughed dirt from his lungs and snapped his knee back into place. His arms and chest were covered with gashes that seeped black blood. He flexed his muscles, enjoying the burn. “That son of a bitch has one sadistic imagination,” he said of Lord Brutus. “Too bad the pain works for me.”

  “It was Isatou who graced us with the tethers, remember?” Dante said. “The old man just wanted us bound to Hell. We should be thankful she outmaneuvered him.” Now that Ka had recovered, Dante saw to his own needs and stretched his left arm up, pushing a rib back into alignment. He rotated his neck, reattaching a vertebra.

  “Yeah.” Vaughn smiled. “I’ll be sure to repay her with a hard smack on the ass.” His playfulness brought up visions of Bailey and his smile dropped.

  Ka took in the strange surroundings with growing fear. The domed sky was not smoky and black as the others had been. It was a concoction of red and black clouds rolling and twisting as though they were constantly devouring something. Constantly bleeding. Constantly in motion but gaining nothing. Closer at hand, two rocky pillars with glowing torches marked the entrance to a rough bridge that crossed a moat of bloody red foam. The thick froth lapped along the edges of the narrow planks, giving the impression of a boiling bloody stew. Parts of the bridge appeared disjointed in the hovering gray mist. Waiting at the far end of the bridge was gate five. Made of black iron and ten stories high, the gate was swallowed by the mist but for sporadic patches of light from various torches.

  Ka flinched at the sound of metal striking metal. Somewhere in the darkness, chains were dragged across stone and whips were snapped, provoking unnatural cries of agony.