Unforgiven: A Soulkeepers Novel (The Soulkeepers Book 3)

by Lori Adams

  Dad lifts his hands and then lets them drop in a helpless gesture. He’s stumbling over too many questions. “Is it true, Sophia? Have you and Michael…I mean…are you guys in love? I mean, is it…serious?” He sounds more curious than shocked.

  I look up at Michael because my second heartbeat is wildly out of control. Michael looks calm and resolute, but he is nervous. He’s hoping he hasn’t upset me. He’s hoping he didn’t do the wrong thing.

  “Yes,” I answer quietly with a smile, then turn back to Dad. “I tried to tell you months ago. It’s always been Michael.”

  “But he’s…” Dad turns away, completely distraught now. He’s mumbling something like he can’t believe this is happening again. I bristle with annoyance. He can’t possibly be comparing this situation to the Psycho Steve fiasco. Can he? I want to clarify things, but Rama whirls around then.

  “This is epic, dude. I can’t partake.” He shakes his head to clear some battle in his mind. “Naw, no way I can do it.”

  “Do what?” I ask. He can’t keep a secret? Seriously?

  “I asked him to marry us,” Michael answers.

  “What?” I wail, because I tend to overreact. Then I quickly recover and whisper, “I thought you said a friend was going to marry us. In private. Before we tell anybody.”

  “Didn’t work out,” Michael says tightly. He’s bitter that it didn’t go his way and now I understand what’s happening. Plan B.

  “Okay, but, why didn’t you ask Dad? He’s a pastor.”

  Michael smiles down at me. Despite all the complications and stress, he’s happy to see that I am just as determined as he is to figure this out. “Remember, Sophia, we will be joined together as husband and wife in a hieros gamos, a spiritual marriage. Because I am Born of Light, our union must be performed by someone who is also Born of Light.”

  Dad has a peculiar, deflated look as though he’s resigned to the inevitable; there is nothing to stop us. I hope to take away any concerns he has, so I ask Michael if the marriage will be legal, on earth. Michael answers with another smile.

  “The laws of Heaven come before the laws of man.”

  “Oh. So that means yes?” I ask, and he says, “Yes, that means yes. You will be spiritually and legally married in the eyes of God and man.”

  “Is it okay?” I ask Dad.

  His look of disappointment is hard to decipher. Is he upset about the marriage in general, or the fact that he can’t be the one to marry me? Or that it’s Michael I love? I go to him and take his hands. I feel like the parent consoling the child. Before I can offer a soothing explanation, Dad blurts out, “Are you pregnant?”

  “What? No, of course not.” I squeeze his hands and then lower my voice because I don’t want this to get any more embarrassing than it already is. “It’s not like that, Dad. Seriously. But Michael and I love each other. We want to be married.”

  Dad lifts his chin with authority and we shift back into our respective roles. He speaks firmly in his lecture voice. “But you must understand what you’re in for, Sophia. Michael will leave you. He has his own world and his own work to do. That won’t change. He will leave you behind to…” His voice cracks unexpectedly and he blinks hard, trying to keep his emotions in check.

  “I have my own job, too, Dad. Remember? I may not have been Born of Light, but I walk in the spirit world now, same as Michael. There will be times when I must leave him, too.” I’m not sure I understand his concern, but I hope I’ve helped him better understand how it will work between Michael and me.

  “Yes, I suppose it is different,” Dad says, but I don’t follow. Different from what? Dad turns and we all look at Rama. He’s been watching with a bewildered expression. My heart goes out to him; I must be the most unpredictable spirit walker he’s ever trained.

  The idea of Rama marrying me to Michael takes root. And why not? He’s an Ascended Master. More than qualified. I trust him, and I know he can keep a secret, when he wants to. The thought spreads into a smile across my face. I suddenly love the idea of Rama marrying me. He’s been like a stand-in dad for weeks now; it feels right.

  Rama glances at Dad. Both are uncertain, so I remind Rama of something he told me when we first met. “You are mine for the duration. Cha?”

  Rama’s face drops with understanding and acceptance. He lets go a soft chuckle and nods. “Cha. For the duration. So what’s the plan for this clambake?”

  Michael pulls me against him in a sudden hug. He’s overwhelmed with excitement. I laugh and wrap my arms around him. He buries his face in my hair and whispers, “I thought we could be married in the barn. If that’s okay? I have everything ready.”

  “You have everything ready?” I laugh and lean back to look at him. Michael is flushed and his eyes are churning. The left one seems different again, darker, almost brown in the glowing light. I don’t know what it means, and right now I don’t care. “Yes. The barn is perfect. When?”

  Michael purses his lips and considers. “How about right after you blow out your candles?” We look at the coffee table. “Is it okay if you are married on your birthday?”

  “It’s perfect, Michael. Everything is going to be perfect.” I lean over and blow them out. Then I wrap my arms around his neck and he picks me up, spinning us around the room as though we’re the only two people in the world. We’re not, of course, and I catch Rama’s worried scowl as I whiz by. He has a look that says, We might be tempting fate, and I couldn’t agree more. The best and worst thing about falling in love is that there is no reverse, only the sweet air tickling your heart on the way down.

  Chapter 14

  Dante

  Hours of restless pacing had not soothed Dante’s foul mood. Information was smuggled into his chamber by way of Santiago, who secretly conspired with the gossipmongers at Vaughn’s request. The last rumor indicated that the fifth kingdom’s coffers were especially low on souls this season. So it stood to reason that The Order would have no qualms about accepting Ka’s rather surprising announcement. Or blatant threat, if truth be told. Nobles in the fifth would eagerly welcome adding a Chelsea Light to their arsenal. No matter what the cost. But The Order had never been on the receiving end of such an ultimatum—a damned commoner promising to open fire on them if her friends were harmed. It was ludicrous. Could a Chelsea Light be used as a weapon? It seemed that Sophia was not a typical commoner, and far from damned. In their estimation, a future spirit walker in Hell required delicate handling.

  Dante expected word from The Order at any moment. They must overlook Sophia’s rebelliousness and grant him permission to help complete her Awakening. And then turn her dark. In his mind, there simply was no alternative, no room for negotiations.

  But that was not the only thing that worried him. Something was gnawing at him, a point of irritation he couldn’t yet name. His beloved Sophia had surprised him by her bold outburst, her undeniable courage to challenge the most powerful nobles in Hell. It was not the first time she had surprised him. In fact, she had done little else since the day he found her in Haven Hurst. So what was this irrational aggravation that plagued him?

  “Will you tell me?” Ka asked. She had been watching Dante pace for the better part of the day. He stopped only to rifle through his desk or mumble to himself or occasionally speak to Vaughn. Her own apprehension seemed to have no effect on him.

  “What?” Dante snapped, without looking at her. “Tell you what?” He was bent over a drawer where he pulled together several ancient manuscripts he thought might help with Sophia’s training. He knew that she would need more than threats and a piercing stare to survive in Hell.

  “I’ve asked you several times to tell me what I’ve done to upset you.” Ka didn’t try to hide her own dampened mood. She’d been proud of her appearance before The Order but was decidedly alone in the matter.

  While Dante waved her away, Vaughn scoffed. “Besides throwing fuel on the fire, you mean?”

  “I wanted to set the record straight,” Ka stated, her
voice as sharp as the dagger in Vaughn’s hand.

  “Oh, you did. Believe me.” He chuckled as he raised the weapon. Keeping his eyes fixed on hers, he pacified his demonic urges by drawing the razor-sharp edge across his forearm. The shallow cut seeped black blood along the surface of his skin. A slow smile lifted the corners of Vaughn’s mouth. For reasons he couldn’t explain, he liked the fascination stirring in Sophia’s eyes. How she watched without flinching, completely enthralled. It was arousing in ways he’d never felt before. Only a resounding knock on the door jarred her from the trancelike fixation.

  “Is it The Order?” she asked, standing quickly. Dante had been watching her while Vaughn satisfied his demon. There was no denying her curiosity, and the idea somehow elevated his aggravation all the more.

  “No,” he answered curtly. “We would have heard from Santiago first. He is monitoring their movements. More than likely it’s Isatou.”

  “That witch?” she spat out. Something about the way Isatou had looked at Dante during their audience with The Order had rubbed Ka the wrong way. “I don’t want her here.”

  “And I have already told you, Sophia, you knew her in your past life. Isatou helped us before and she can help us now.” He walked over and tried to comfort her by placing a kiss on each hand. He felt her relax beneath his hot touch.

  “Were she and I friends?” Ka asked, wrapping his arms around her waist and drawing them closer. Dante looked away when he answered.

  “Yes.”

  It wasn’t a complete lie, but close enough to make him uncomfortable. Honesty was something he insisted on since they returned. Disloyalty ran rampant in Hell, just as it had in life under his father’s rule. Now, he wanted no secrets between himself and his beloved. Ironically enough, despite his good intentions, Dante found himself hiding things from Sophia as he never would have before. Perhaps when she was Lovaria again, he wouldn’t feel the need.

  “Well, I don’t mind seeing her again,” Vaughn said, swinging open the door. Isatou stood at the sharp end of Grayson’s sword.

  “She claims Dante summoned her,” the guard stated. “I’ve checked her for weapons. She has nothing but a couple of pouches full of dried leaves and a vial of liquid.”

  His father’s guards were being especially thorough, Dante mused. Perhaps his life was in more danger than he thought. In response to Dante’s nod, Grayson lowered the blade. Vaughn’s eyes trailed after Isatou as she walked into the chamber.

  “Hello, beautiful,” Vaughn murmured with a spicy grin. Isatou appeared too anxious to enjoy the obvious appreciation from the Demon of Affliction. She stopped inside the door and smiled tentatively at Dante.

  It wasn’t so much Isatou’s strange tattooed eyes that seemed to shift unnaturally that bothered Ka. Or her curvaceous body in the gossamer dress. Or even the lovely features hidden beneath her long, colorful locks. It was the expression on her face when she looked at Dante, that eagerness to please him, that set Ka’s teeth on edge. Whatever their past-life connection might have been, Ka was determined to sever it this time around.

  “My Lord, Dante—” Isatou started, but he held up a hand.

  “Please, I lost that title the day I died. You know that.” Dante smiled affectionately and then frowned as Sophia squeezed his hand. Her agitation was hard to mistake.

  “I just wanted to say,” Isatou stumbled along nervously. “I just wanted…please forgive me for the tattoo brand. There is nothing I can do when The Order commands me.”

  “I understand, Isa. You had no choice. And I also understand you added the tethers so Vaughn and I could resurface. Thank you for that. I hope you were not punished too severely?”

  She shook her head and finally allowed her eyes to rest on Sophia. “I knew you wanted to find her again. To bring her here. It was the only way for you to escape Hell, so…” Her timid nature and gentle confession was not enough to soften Ka’s cold disregard for her.

  “So now what?” Ka asked sharply. “You’re here with some voodoo shit to bring back my memories?”

  “Sophia!” Dante scowled with displeasure. “Isatou has been working very hard to find just the right mixture to help you. To help us both. I would think a show of gratitude was more appropriate.”

  Ka sighed but said nothing.

  Was she angry to be reprimanded, or just jealous of Isatou, Dante couldn’t be sure. Whatever the case, he didn’t like her insecurity. Her brazen display was unsuitable to her former station in life. The sooner she had her memories back, the better.

  “I believe I have everything we need, Dante,” Isatou said, stepping forward. She held up the velvet pouches and vial of liquid. “Foliis visionis, leaves of vision. Foliis monumenti, leaves of remembrance. Foliis veritatis, leaves of truth. They should suffice when boiled in anima flentes, weeping soul. But we must hurry. If Lord Malachi, or another member of The Order, summons me, I shall be forced to leave. I would hate to interrupt the memories in midprocess.” She smiled coolly at Sophia.

  Ka lifted her chin. Then she pulled Dante against her and kissed him on the mouth. Gently, once, and then twice before she leaned back, grinning. “I will do everything I can to come back to you. But if this fails, you must know that I love you as I am right now. You do know that, don’t you?”

  Dante startled. It had never occurred to him that Lovaria’s soul might never again resurface, that her memories might never return. He hadn’t bothered to worry whether Sophia actually loved him. Lovaria did and that was all that mattered.

  When he’d recovered from her surprising declaration of love, Dante favored her with a smile that did not reach his eyes.

  —

  Isatou claimed that the right setting would aid in their endeavor, so Ka agreed to be shut inside the pretty pink bedroom that Dante had re-created to jog Sophia’s memory. When they were locked inside, Isatou poured the anima flentes into a black cauldron over a small fire in the hearth. At the boiling point, she sprinkled in one pouch of leaves while chanting something. When it was properly mixed, she started over with the next pouch. Soon the room took on the vulgar aroma of a sour swamp. It was so unpleasant that Ka grew antsy. Some deep-seated instinct told her not to trust the witch.

  “I know something about you,” Isatou commented in the prolonged silence. “Something even Dante doesn’t know.” She was crouched by the fire and didn’t look up from stirring the pot when she spoke.

  Ka stood very still. The obvious came to mind first; the witch had somehow learned of the doubling spell. She knew Dante had brought the wrong Sophia to Hell. After weighing her options, Ka decided to give nothing away. She proceeded cautiously in an attempt to distract the witch.

  “And I know something about you that Dante doesn’t know. You’re in love with him.”

  Isatou stopped stirring and twisted around. Amusement played on her features, and then she returned to her boiling pot. Refusing to take the bait, she stayed her course. “I know you were experiencing an Awakening.” She tapped the spoon on the edge and stood.

  Ka scoffed. “Everyone knows that, witch.”

  “As Lovaria,” Isatou clarified, and then grinned as Sophia’s smirk fell away. “Oh, yes, I knew you were supposed to be a spirit walker, even back then. Dante didn’t know of such things. He had never dabbled in the dark arts before, and he was quite blind and naive when it came to Lovaria. But I knew it was going to happen. I’ve often wondered how things would have played out if you two hadn’t…if your Awakening had been completed then.”

  Ka reached for the tall bedpost and used it to sink down onto the mattress. This was unexpected news and she played with it, trying to decide what it meant to her present situation. She searched her mind but couldn’t tap into the memory Isatou spoke of. Since the day of her creation, Ka had tried relentlessly to delve into her subconscious and find Lovaria’s memories. Nothing materialized, apart from vague images of fields with red poppies and yellow broom flowers, low rock walls, and a water mill. Useless and exasperating work, it wa
s far more frustrating than she could have imagined. Especially now.

  “What exactly happened to stop my Awakening then? What happened to us?”

  Isatou shook her head. “Dante doesn’t want me to reveal details of any memory. He feels it’s important that all your memories return organically. He believes the emotions attached to each memory will be pure and accurate that way. Of course, a little nudge from nature won’t hurt.” She poured the contents of the pot into a teacup on the nightstand and offered it to Ka. “Drink slowly but steadily. Let the potion make its way into your bloodstream at an even flow. Good, now lay back.”

  With this new information, Ka was eager for things to begin. She reclined and immediately felt a heavy weight settling inside her. The hot liquid spread through her veins like a soothing balm. After several minutes, it traveled up her spine and into her head. Her eyes rolled back and then fell shut. Her body went slack.

  A display of colorful images twisted in her mind, blurs of green, yellow, and red. Once pulled apart and muted, they floated away like wisps of fog to reveal the jagged outline of a city. Distinct architectural spires came into focus. Then Romanesque arches, chunky block towers, terra-cotta rooftops as far as she could see. Supporting the rooftops were ancient stone buildings washed pale from wind and rain. The Piazza dei Signori stood out among the familiar.

  Verona. The word whispered in her subconscious like an old friend. Home.

  As though she had fallen from the moon, Ka drifted over the sprawling city, taking in the rambling cobblestone streets, the narrow walkways between squat castles with swallow-tailed battlements, sturdy walls, and the piazzas with bubbling fountains. The dark impression of rushing water from the Fiume Adige that looped around the city. Never had she seen home from this vantage point, but it was unmistakable all the same. Easing down, the wind fingered her hair as her feet came to rest on a cobble street.