The Soulkeepers Box Set

by G. P. Ching

  Abigail remembered this place. A few hundred years ago, she knew a Quapaw Indian named Wasa, who taught her about the healing waters and the plants that grew from it. More than a lifetime ago, Wasa's tribe ruled the forest in this area. Now the antique stores and spas reminiscent of the roaring twenties attracted tourists by the busload. She'd heard The Pancake House made the best deep-fried French toast in the south, but she didn't have time to stop for brunch. It was almost 2 p.m. and Abigail promised Malini she'd stick to her instructions. The new Soulkeepers would be expecting her.

  Slipping through the door into the brown wood paneling of The Bean Grinder Coffee House, she eyed the only two customers in the place, a man and a girl at a small table. A tired-looking blonde made sandwiches behind the counter. Through a door at the back, a man entered with his arms full of bottled beverages. He rested the haul on a chair and began stocking the fridge to the left of the counter.

  “Can I help you?” the blonde said, leaning up against the counter. Dark circles loomed under her eyes.

  For the purposes of looking natural, Abigail ordered. “A small vanilla latte, please.” She placed a five-dollar bill on the counter. “Keep the change.”

  “I’ll bring it to your table.” The woman got busy making her drink.

  Abigail turned to the small round table behind her. “Are you August?”

  The man stood up and straightened his necktie. He extended a calloused hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Abigail.”

  She accepted his handshake. Despite his crisp white shirt and pressed slacks, August's tanned skin crinkled like leather. He'd spent too much time in the sun. Abigail took the chair next to him across from the girl. “You must be Bridget,” she said.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  The girl's short, brown hair fringed her face unevenly, like she'd cut it herself. Her long, wiry frame made her seem younger than Abigail had expected. If she had to guess, she’d say the girl was thirteen. Freckles danced across her cheeks. Like August, the top of her nose and ears peeled slightly from sun damage but the pale blue dress with tiny yellow flowers she wore showed as much care as August's ensemble.

  “I’ve come to tell you it’s not safe for you here anymore,” Abigail whispered. “They're coming. They have your names.” Abigail lowered her chin.

  “We wondered if it wasn’t somethin’ like this. We've been on the move for weeks. Killed six Watchers between Georgia and here. We’ve never seen so many.” August rubbed his forehead. “I lost count of how many souls we've saved. We thought somethin’ big must be comin'.”

  “Something big is coming. We think Lucifer’s trying to make a move to take over our realm.”

  Bridget frowned at her fingers, tangled on her placemat.

  “We’ll help any way we can,” August said.

  Abigail checked over her shoulder for eavesdroppers. The barista didn't seem interested. She prepared the latte behind the counter in slow motion, with her back to their table. “I can't believe they're forcing me to work a double again today. It feels like I haven't slept in a week,” she said to the man stocking drinks, who was even less interested.

  About to turn back to the new Soulkeepers, pain pounded into Abigail’s brain, debilitating pain that made her entire body twitch. A wire whip scraped against the inside of her skull. She yelped and folded forward, her head hitting the table. The pain stopped.

  “You shoulda told me you were a Watcher. It hurts Watchers,” Bridget whispered, shaking her shoulder. “Humans can't feel it. I'm really sorry. I was just checking to make sure you were who you said you were.”

  Abigail pushed herself up and swallowed hard. “You saw my thoughts?”

  “Yes. I can take them out and I can put them in. I'm sorry, I didn't think it would hurt you.”

  “That’s a formidable gift.”

  “Thank you.” Bridget lowered her eyes again.

  August smiled and nodded. “She incapacitates 'em and I decapitate 'em.” He chuckled quietly.

  A hush fell over the table as the barista approached, latte in hand. “Your coffee, Abigail,” she said.

  The latte landed in front of her, a curl of steam rising toward the ceiling.

  Abigail turned toward the blonde woman and frowned at the knife in her hands. It was the knife she’d been using to cut the sandwiches but it was odd how she twisted it back and forth. It glinted in the light from the window, reflecting a pattern onto Bridget’s face. “How did you know my name?”

  Abigail reached out, meaning to touch the barista. Something wasn’t right. The woman seemed almost in a trance.

  Before her hand made contact, darkness shot up around her, swallowing her, transporting her. The coffeehouse dissolved and she materialized inside a pale tube, like an insect trapped under glass.

  “Welcome back, Abigail,” Lucifer’s voice rang out. He swaggered toward her. She was in a different place in Hell this time, a sitting room decorated in gold and red.

  “What do you want?” she asked, her breathy voice giving away her trepidation.

  “I've told you what I want. I need your help.” Lucifer’s eyes burned into hers from the other side of the magic wall that surrounded her. “I’m not going to stop until you help me.”

  “I said, ‘no,’” Abigail said, sounding braver than she felt. She couldn’t let him get to her. She turned her back on Lucifer, hoping he'd lose interest.

  “Have it your way but know this. You hold the key to what I want, and I won’t stop until I get it.” He brought his face closer and whispered, “I can peel apart your life person by person until you are begging to be by my side.”

  She didn't answer his taunt. Closing her eyes, she tried to ignore him. Lucifer wouldn't waste his time keeping her there if she refused to give him the satisfaction of a response. The effort paid off. Smoke filled her tube, buoying her up, up, back into her body, to the coffee shop. She landed in her seat at the table, jerking into the present.

  Blood. Everywhere, blood.

  Abigail bolted upright, knocking her chair to the floor.

  August’s body draped across the table. Blood gushed from a stab wound in his neck. It soaked his tie and one short sleeve of his white dress shirt. Bridget had made it as far as the door; well, part of her had. Her arm remained at the table. The rest of her body sprawled dead in front of the glass, the blue dress drenched in her blood.

  Abigail turned in a circle. The barista's blood-covered hands poked out from under the seat behind August. Her body lay sprawled on the ground with a gunshot wound to the head. Blood and something more splattered the wall beside her. The stock man stared at the bodies with the same vacant stare she'd noticed in the barista. He was influenced just as she was. Why hadn't she noticed sooner?

  The man brought the gun to his head, his hand shaking.

  “No!” Abigail cried, flinging her power in his direction. He collided with the wall, the gun slipping from his hand.

  The door swung open and the sound of a woman’s scream cut through the room. Abigail stared as the stranger ran from the massacre. Blood spattered the window. Blood soaked the floor. Blood oozed across the counter. Blood dripped from the bodies.

  Something inside Abigail snapped. Whatever part of her was closest to human shut off and the Watcher inside took over. Numb calm spread across her body. She twisted into shadow, to the sound of approaching sirens.

  Chapter 17

  Dane

  Dane repositioned himself on the slab of stone but there was no reprieve from the pain that racked his body. The circle of fire scorched his skin, even when he pulled his knees into his chest. Weakness and pain were constant reminders that his body should have given out by now. Day after day without food or water in the ever-shrinking prison should've meant death. But this was Hell. Lucifer was using him, and death would mean his freedom. Whatever magic kept him alive would end when he was no longer useful. As he pushed himself up to his knees, he welcomed that day, he prayed for that day.

  “I hea
rd you were down here.”

  The voice that filtered through the flames was one he'd never forget. “Auriel.” Dane turned to see her figure silhouetted behind the flames.

  “The one and only.” She laughed and the flames lowered. She hadn't changed. With platinum-blonde hair, icy blue eyes, and a silvery blue gown, she could dice any guy's heart to shreds and have it for breakfast, literally.

  “What are you doing here?” Dane rasped.

  “I have a meeting with Lucifer.” She lowered her voice to a whisper and raised her hand to the side of her mouth. “We’re taking over the world. I suppose I can let you in on the secret since you’re as good as dead.”

  Dane buried his face in his hands. “Leave me alone, Auriel. Isn’t it enough that you used me and almost ruined my life? Do you have to torment me in my death, too?”

  “Oh, but Dane, I have more use for you. Don’t you know you’re an integral part of the plan?”

  He shook his head. “Lucifer can try to use me as bait to entice Malini and Dr. Silva to translate the list of Soulkeepers. But they never will. I’m not that important.”

  Auriel grinned. “Hmmm. If that was what Lucifer was really after, it would be a total loss. I’m pretty sure your friends are gonna let you burn.”

  Dane jerked. Every muscle in his body ached in response. “Then how am I an integral part of the plan?” His voice broke as he said it.

  “We need an innocent living sacrifice, and you, pathetic as you are, qualify.” Her lips peeled back from her whiter than white teeth.

  He might have asked her more about his fate but at that precise moment Lucifer appeared in front of her in a shower of sparks. Applause broke out from the shadows. Auriel clapped the loudest and gave a little bow at the waist.

  “An elegant entrance, my lord,” she said.

  “Thank you, my dear. And what are you doing? Playing with the tool?” Lucifer wrapped his arm around Auriel's shoulders.

  “Just keeping myself occupied while I waited for you to grace me with your presence.”

  Dane snickered.

  Lucifer shot him a look that made his skin burn. Dane squeezed his knees to his chest, determined not to scream. The burning stopped when the devil turned his attention back toward Auriel.

  “Has our guest arrived?” he asked her.

  “Yes. She’s in your chambers, my lord.” Auriel motioned toward a door in the stone a few yards from his prison. Dane had seen Lucifer come and go through the door, but hadn’t known what lay beyond it.

  “Well, let’s not keep our guest waiting.”

  Lucifer guided Auriel toward the door and pulled it open, wide enough for both of them to fit through. Dane had a moment to absorb the opulence of the red-and-gold entryway before his eyes fell on the guest that waited there.

  “Dr. Silva?” he called.

  Her icy blue eyes flashed to his in recognition.

  “Dr. Silva! Please, please help me!” he begged. He crawled to the side of the fire.

  Lucifer patted Dr. Silva's shoulder. Pat-pat-pat, like a father pats a daughter.

  Her expression became as emotionless as a reptile. The door closed slowly behind them, severing her heartless stare. She'd abandoned him with nothing but the flames and the pain.

  For a moment, Dane was confused. Why was Dr. Silva in Hell and why was she talking to Lucifer? Then he realized it didn't matter. Auriel had given him all the information he needed. If he was the key to Lucifer's plan, he needed to take himself out of the equation.

  What was it his parents used to say? Suicide is a mortal sin. If he killed himself, he'd lose his soul. But some things were more important than one soul. Like stopping Lucifer. Like saving the Soulkeepers.

  With everything he had, he pushed himself to his feet. Before he could chicken out or think too hard about the consequences, he sprinted toward the flames. He landed squarely on the ring of fire. Intense pain swallowed him whole. His hair burnt off in an instant. His skin bubbled black. The rancid smell of burning flesh filled his nostrils and the sound of his screams ricocheted off the stone around him. Eventually, there was nothing left to feel pain and he welcomed death with open arms.

  But his sacrifice was for naught. When he came to, he was right back at the center of the circle. Death wasn't an option, it seemed, at least not until Lucifer wanted him dead. Dane buried his face in his hands, hopelessness blanketing him like a shroud.

  Chapter 18

  Mara and Henry

  Mara woke with fireworks in her heart. She’d never expected her first time to be so perfect or that she’d love someone the way she loved Henry, with every part of herself. Memories of their night together came back to her in luscious flashes, a bare shoulder, the sight of his hip, the weight of his body above her.

  Henry’s arm was draped over her waist but she could tell he was sleeping because he wasn’t breathing. It was weird to think she could stop breathing, too. She’d tried it a few times but could never keep it up. After a few minutes, she’d get distracted and start again out of habit. How long, how many centuries, had it taken for Henry to lose the urge to breathe? Now, the only time he did was when he thought it would make her more comfortable.

  The ring Henry had given her fit snugly on her finger, the platinum skull spanning the space between the knuckles on her left hand. She thought of the one she’d given him, the hourglass. Her heart ached. Time was how she’d defined herself since she was twelve, but now her power was gone. Who was she? Would she ever have a chance to find out?

  “Sorry to disturb you, but there is something we must discuss,” a small voice said from the end of the bed.

  Henry startled awake. He sat up so fast, Mara struggled to keep the sheet in place. Pulling it tighter around her body, she propped herself up on the headboard. The woman on the end of the bed looked identical to Mara. Well, a better version of Mara, with no piercings and an inner glow that filled the room with homey warmth.

  “Who are you?” Mara asked. Henry elbowed her hard in the side.

  “I am,” the woman said.

  “Oh, you’re God!” Mara sounded dense even to herself. “Sorry, I thought … why do you look like me? I always thought you were a man.”

  The look Henry shot her could’ve soldered iron.

  “I am neither. I am. You see me as I exist in you.” God’s voice held a soft echo that gave it the hollow quality of wind chimes. “It is easier for you this way.”

  Henry shifted uncomfortably but Mara didn’t know why. She felt completely at peace in God’s presence. “Are you here for me?” Mara asked.

  “Yes. Your soul is clearly mine,” she said. “You have a good heart, Mara Kane. It’s time for your soul to move on to Heaven.”

  Mara beamed with pride. Something about the way God said it made her feel good to be her, to have lived the life that she lived. She leaned forward, drawn to God by some invisible force, but stopped when she realized Henry was statuesque on the other side of the bed, his face conspicuously blank.

  She twisted the ring on her finger. “I’d like to stay here,” Mara said. “For my heaven, I’d like to stay with Henry.”

  God rose from the end of the bed and glided toward the window. Birds flew to rest on the sill, looking toward her presence and singing their happiest song.

  “I’m afraid that’s impossible. The In Between isn’t any place for a soul. You should have never been brought here.”

  Mara intertwined her fingers with Henry’s. “Will you force me to go?” She was surprised how raw her voice sounded.

  God’s eyes lingered on their connected hands. “You have free will, Mara. I will leave a door for Death to usher you through. When you are ready, come to me. Whenever you are ready.”

  Mara's heart leaped as she considered God's words. She had to go, someday, but not today. She could stay with Henry longer, maybe until the end of forever.

  Henry’s face looked like he just won the lottery. He pulled her into his chest.

  “Oh, thank you
. Thank you,” Mara said. She bowed her head, overwhelmed by the gift God had given her.

  But her relief was premature.

  A dark hiss came from the corner of the room. Inky shadows crawled across the walls, knitting the air into a dense tar. Lucifer stepped from the darkness, shaking his blond head and wagging a finger. “Not so fast. I demand a consequence.”

  God glowed brighter, sparks of electricity dancing on her skin. “A consequence? Her soul is mine. There shall be no consequence,” God said, her voice rising.

  Lucifer lifted a corner of his mouth and focused unnaturally blue eyes in Mara’s direction. “Death broke the rules. I am entitled to a consequence for his indiscretion.”

  God narrowed her eyes and twisted her mouth as if the room stunk from Lucifer’s presence. She sighed. “Fine. What consequence shall you enact on Death?”

  He held out a hand and an obsidian hourglass the size of a gallon of milk formed in his palm. He turned it over and sand began trickling into the lower chamber.

  “Mara must go through the door before the last grain of sand falls, or her soul is mine.”

  God’s presence thundered against the walls. She levitated two feet off the floor, charging the air with electricity. “This is unacceptable,” she boomed. “The consequence is his not hers to pay.”

  With his hands on his hips, Lucifer gave a cocky laugh. “Since Death doesn’t have a soul to take, losing her is the only suitable punishment. Besides, as you said, she shouldn’t be here.”

  “Leave my sight, beast!” God bellowed, and this time Lucifer flinched.

  “Do you agree to my consequence?” he hissed.

  The room quaked. Mara thought the walls might come down.

  “Yes,” God said, but the word was filled with anger and resentment. She took a deep breath and blew it out at Lucifer. He came apart like dust, his pieces dissolving into the ether. God returned to the floor, her power folding within her, until she looked peaceful and almost human.

  “I must go now,” she said to Mara. “Do not miss the door. I cannot save you from where he will take you.”