Soul Taker

by Nutt, Karen Michelle

  Isabella waited until the nurses and the doctor filed out. She had no doubt they had paperwork and phone calls to make to the woman's next of kin. She would have to hurry before someone came back to take the body.

  Blood was the fastest way to contact a soul, but a cell phone, black mirror and a conjuring triangle, with protection symbols to ward off demonic interferences, would work, too.

  Since Marcy's death, she'd carried the items with her, items she hadn't used since she was in high school, participating in the nursing program offered for high school students extra curriculum studies. If the teachers had known she was only there to enhance her Necromancy skills, she would have been tossed out of the program, but she was careful or so she thought, until Danielle Smith caught her in the morgue. The girl was always nosing into everyone's business as if she were elected to police their actions.

  If she had known Danielle was spying on her, she would have never awakened the woman who had died from a self-inflicted gunshot wound. Danielle's screams alerted the staff on duty. The teacher didn't believe Danielle's story about her raising the dead, but she didn't quite discount something had happened. From that day on, she had a partner and couldn't wander off to experiment on her own. Once the semester was over, she didn't sign up for the program again.

  Isabella fished into her backpack. She had thought to use the method with Johanna to find out who had hurt her, but she wasn't dead—not yet. Something had taken part of her soul, amputated it from existence. She never knew of a death like hers. Maybe the man she saw in here had something to do with it. Black magic, perhaps...

  She placed the diagram and the black mirror on the woman's chest. Quickly, she removed the cell battery from her old phone she had yet to recycle. She glanced at the door, expecting any moment for someone to barge in and demand to know what she was doing. She had to concentrate and block out the sounds of the hospital—the beeping monitors, the low murmurs of conversation, the coughs and moans from the other rooms.

  She grabbed the woman's wrist and looked at the name typed there. The woman's name was Missy Spangler. She prayed there was enough of Missy's essence to have a coherent conversation.

  She closed her eyes and concentrated, reaching beyond to the dark void where souls lingered before moving on. She murmured words that Necromancers used to open the veil. The lights overhead flickered and the air around her grew cold, frosting the black mirror as if someone breathed on it. "Missy Spangler, I command an audience." She didn't have time to play nice. She needed to speak to her now.

  The lights overhead flickered with a buzzing sound of electricity being zapped. Her phone buzzed and she opened her eyes to read the text.

  I'm here.

  "What did the man do to you?" Isabella asked.

  Kissed me.

  She frowned. Sometimes the souls were confused. "Did the man harm you?"

  Kiss… took… he took…

  "What did he take, Missy?"

  Meeeee…

  The light on the cell phone screen went black as if Missy had flat-lined again.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Harrison slid into the booth at A Taste of Home and Isabella strode over to him with the house wine. She did the honors of pouring him a glass. The small pulse on the side of her cheek told him she clenched her jaw. She was worried about Johanna and maybe just a little angry with him for not protecting her. He didn't blame her. He should have done more.

  "How's Johanna doing?" he dared to ask.

  "Holding on." Her voice broke and she cleared her throat.

  Harrison covered her hand with his, drawing her attention. "Do you want to talk?"

  She inhaled deeply before letting it out again. "I'm worried, Harrison.

  The chime on the door rang as three young girls strolled in.

  "That guy was sooooo dreamy." The tall brunette gave a sigh and her two companions giggled in agreement. "I want to go back to the karaoke bar again tonight."

  Harrison could feel Isabella tense beneath his palm. "Is something wrong?"

  "What?" She glanced back to him, pulling her hand away when she realized he still held it. "No," but her tone said otherwise.

  Harrison followed her gaze to the three girls. Tourists, he would imagine. He didn't recognize them as Bostonians.

  Isabella walked over to the girls to greet them. Her gaze lingered on the tall brunette with a diamond earring in her nose. The girl looked to be a picture of health, but Harrison would bet Isabella didn't think so.

  Garran insisted they shouldn't drag Isabella into all this, but he didn't believe they had a choice now. They needed her to step up their investigation.

  If Garran hadn't stopped him from telling Isabella the whole truth, they would have known sooner about Johanna being in immediate danger. She hadn't been a random victim in Salem. It was obvious now that all the pieces fell into place. The mysterious boyfriend no one had met was indeed the Soul Taker. If Isabella had all the facts, she would have known, instead of only having a hunch something was terribly wrong and, in turn, he would have known he needed to protect her.

  Isabella seated the trio before returning to Harrison's table. "Were you going to order dinner?" she asked.

  She was sweet. She had every right to be angry with him, but she remained cordial. "Will you sit, and have a drink with me, Isabella?"

  Her hands smoothed down her apron. "Only if you're going to tell me what's going on. You owe me an explanation."

  Harrison nodded. "Aye, I do."

  Isabella pulled out a chair. She placed her hands on the table and folded them. "I'm listening."

  She was being straightforward, and so would he. "We need your help."

  "We?" One lovely dark brow rose.

  "I have an associate, a good friend who I work with in such cases as I mentioned to you the other day. I think you could help us move our investigation forward."

  "What are you talking about? How could I help?"

  "Johanna is still in the hospital," he stated. "We found her before her heart stopped that's all, but it's only a matter of time…" He let the statement hang there between them.

  Isabella squirmed in her seat, knowing what he hadn't said. "How do you know she won't recover?"

  "Because, what's wrong with her can't be treated with medication."

  "I thought you were a detective, or are you a doctor now?" Her gaze leveled on him and held. It was obvious she'd reached her limit with him.

  He shook his head. "I'm not a doctor."

  "Then how could you possibly know she won't get better?"

  The bitterness in her tone warned him, he was about to lose her all together if he didn't talk faster. "Last week, a young girl came in here for dinner. I believe you called her Tamera. You thought she looked… peaked." He gave her a moment to recall what she told the young girl. Isabella recognized something in the girl he couldn't detect. When her eyes widened, he knew she made the connection with how Johanna looked the other night.

  "What are you trying to tell me, Harrison? That Johanna caught something from Tamera?"

  "Not exactly, but they do have something in common.

  "Then Tamera needs to check herself in at the hospital."

  "Tamera's dead, Isabella."

  "Dead?" The air seemed to go out of her as she leaned back in her seat. She covered her mouth as if to hold back a sob. Once she regained her composure, her gaze settled on him again. "How do you know this?" Her voice had risen. "Are you telling me Johanna will die, too? There's no hope?"

  "I don't know. Maybe. Probably." Then he decided on the truth. "She's going to die, Izzie."

  Isabella wasn't ready to hear it. She shook her head. "Johanna's strong. She'll beat this."

  "You already know she won't."

  Her eyes narrowed. "How could I possibly know that?"

  "I've watched you. You know when a person is ill. You knew about Tamera. I think you sensed something with the tourist, the brunette over there." He nodded his head toward the trio seated
at the corner table. "And you've been to the hospital and have checked up on Johanna yourself."

  Her olive skin paled, making her hazel eyes rimmed with gold stand out even more than they already did.

  "What exactly do you see, Isabella?" Harrison asked, curious to know. She had started to confide in him at Marcy's wake, but he wanted the details.

  Her gaze wavered over his features as if trying to decide if she could trust him. Finally, she leaned forward. "Auras, I suppose, or maybe their souls. I see colors haloing people. I don't know what else to call it." She eyed him, her gaze sweeping over his features again, but with a more refined inspection. Your aura is blended earth tones, radiating warmth. When you said you wanted to know what I saw, you were being sincere."

  He sat back in his seat. "Interesting. You could tell if I'm lying or not?"

  She nodded. "It's pretty reliable. Where are you going with this? What difference does it make what I can see?"

  "Just hear me out. How's Johanna's aura?"

  "Almost non-existent, fragmented. It's like someone took chunks of it away. Johanna's aura looks damaged."

  "This is great."

  "What?" Isabella looked horrified.

  He held up his hand, hoping to explain before she threw him out of the restaurant. "I don't mean about Johanna, but that I believe you can help us. These women aren't sick. I think you know they aren't dropping dead of heart problems. Their charkas, auras, souls, or whatever you want to call them, are being sucked out of them."

  She stared at him, blinked. "That's not possible."

  "Isn't it? You see auras. What would people think about that?

  She rolled her eyes. "Okay, point taken."

  "You've seen it for yourself. The color that makes them who they are is gone. When it's completely gone, it's over. They don't come back. Ever."

  "God." She ran a hand over her face. "How is it done?" she demanded to know.

  Here came the tricky part. He prayed she had an open mind. "It's a Grim Sith, a vampire. Only, he doesn't just suck people's blood. He can go straight for the soul."

  She sat there staring at him, absorbing what he told her, but he could tell she couldn't process it all in one gulp. He overloaded her, but there simply wasn't any time to ease her into the bizarre world in which he lived, which unbeknown to her, she was part of as well. She could see the auras and if his hunch was right, she truly was her mother's daughter.

  "A vampire?" she snapped. "This is your big lead? Next you'll tell me the Tooth Fairy and Santa Claus are real."

  The answer would flip her over the edge. "What if I told you I was a werewolf?"

  She actually laughed at him. "Oh, come on, Harrison. A werewolf?"

  "Aye."

  "So every full moon you turn into a hairy wolf and go out and hunt people down and kill them. Give me a break." She looked him over and doubt shadowed her eyes at her own conviction.

  He shook his head in dismay. "Hollywood. No, we don't do that. The moon does have a pull on us, but we don't turn into hairy beasts so we can terrorize the town. At will, I can change into a wolf, looking like your typical gray, only larger and scarier. The moon does give us extra strength when at its fullest, but it doesn't control us."

  She didn't jump to her feet and flee. She sat there staring at him. "You're a werewolf?" she repeated for clarification.

  "Aye, but we prefer moon shifters. I belong to the Mac Tíre pack."

  "The Mac Tíre?"

  "Ireland clan and all that."

  To her credit, she didn't dismiss his claims completely and have his arse hauled out of the restaurant.

  "Show me." Her eyes all but challenged him.

  Isabella was dead serious and he knew it. "I can't shift here. Do you want the customers screaming in terror?"

  She looked over her shoulder at the patrons enjoying their meals. Her gaze returned to him. "Fine. We'll meet somewhere private and you can show me then."

  "If I prove to you I'm a werewolf, will you consider joining our team?"

  "Sure," she promised, obviously believing he wouldn't be able to prove his claim.

  "Is my place all right?" he asked.

  He could see the wheels turning in her pretty little head, warning her it might not be wise to go to a man's home alone, especially one who claimed he was a werewolf?

  "You can trust me, Isabella. Please." He'd get down on his knees and grovel if he had to. "If it makes you feel safer, let your brother know where you'll be." That seemed to do it.

  "Ten tonight, okay by you?" She asked and he lifted a brow in surprise at the time. "I have to make sure the restaurant is locked up," she added.

  "Ten, it is then."

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Garran wanted to wring Harrison's neck. He still might consider it. "Tell me again, why ye are bringin' yer human into all this after I specifically told ye no' to?" He was more worried about how he would react with the woman so close to him on a daily basis. Heaven help him, he wanted to see the lassie again. He couldn't seem to get her out of his head.

  Harrison claimed she could detect auras. What did she see when she gazed at him? "I saw her at the hospital," he told Harrison as he paced the cramped apartment, wishing he had more room to move. Heck, Harrison was a werewolf, why wasn't his place bigger?

  "You saw Isabella?"

  He decided not to tell him he spied on her at Johanna Threshold's flat, too. "She's a petite thing, nothing much to her. Really, Harrison, what is yer infatuation with her?" He made protests, yet her face remained vivid in his mind. The way her dark hair cascaded down her back in waves of ebony made him want to slide his fingers through her locks. Her curvy figure appealed to him and, dammit, her scent curled around his senses, teasing him like a come hither command.

  Harrison's lips twitched as if he read his mind. "She's beautiful, isn't she?"

  Garran turned his gaze on Harrison with a growl. "She's a frail human."

  Harrison's brows rose high on his forehead. "Really? Frail?" His chuckle set Garran on edge. "You have no idea what positions that woman can put her body into."

  "Is sex all ye can think about?"

  "Tsk, tsk. Get your mind out of the gutter. I was talking about how limber she is. The woman is in good shape. She takes palates classes three times a week. Frail is not an adjective I would use to describe Isabella."

  "And why is it ye know of her whereabouts? I never thought of ye as a stalker."

  Harrison waved him off. "I only know because Steph… or was it Cathy? Anyway," he shrugged, "my ex took the classes with Isabella."

  Garran remained quiet, contemplating why Harrison found this woman with the gold-rimmed hazel eyes worth their trouble. He seemed to know her every move, and yet, he didn't remember the name of his last girlfriend. "But ye're no' involved with her?" The thought of him being interested in Isabella, in a more romantic nature, actually rankled him.

  Harrison chuckled. "You keep asking me and the answer is still no. We're friends."

  Garran decided to change the subject. "What makes ye believe she'll show? For God's sake, ye told her ye were a werewolf."

  "She doesn't want anyone else to be hurt. She cares about people. Just because you don't trust humans, there's no reason why I should follow suit. I find them quite charming, actually."

  He gave him a harrumph. "Irritating nuisance, the lot of them."

  "Grumble all you want, but you used to be one of them." He chuckled when Garran cursed him in Gaelic.

  "That was centuries ago."

  "Try to have a little trust."

  "Trust? As I recall, it was a human who sent me to my death, one of my own kin. There's trust for ye."

  Footsteps coming up the walk ended their discussion. Harrison had left his door open and Isabella poked her head in.

  Harrison smiled and moved toward her, welcoming her. "Come in."

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  The last month proved to be a pinnacle of weird happenings and odd discoveries, her mother'
s journal, and now Harrison's claims being among the bizarre to add to the list.

  Isabella strode in, half expecting to see Harrison's place decorated in fantasy posters. Sure, she knew Harrison from the restaurant, or at least she thought she had, until this afternoon. The man claimed he was a werewolf. If that didn't cry I'm a little off kilter, she didn't know what did.

  The only person who knew she was here at Harrison's was Mario. Her brother had been out of the question. He would have tried to stop her, but she wasn't completely stupid. If she suddenly disappeared, she wanted the cops to have a starting point.

  "You're safe here," Harrison said, reading her apprehension clearly as if she wore a sign around her neck.

  "For the record, I don't believe in werewolves or vampires," she insisted, perhaps to convince herself more than Harrison. There were other odd unexplained things in the world, like sensing auras and seeing ghosts. She could raise the dead, but voicing that to Harrison would only encourage his delusion. Your mother believed there were Otherworldy beings, she reminded herself. Isn't that why you're really here?

  "Ye will soon believe." A man stepped out of the shadows, startling her.

  She didn't know how she missed the broad shouldered guy leaning against the wall. Her gaze slid over him, not without appreciation before she met his eyes. Stormy gray… "Do I—" Recognition hit her a second later. "You," she accused, causing Harrison to look at the man questionably.

  "I told ye, we've met." The man shrugged his shoulders.

  "It seems you left a lasting impression as usual," Harrison bit out, causing the guy to scowl. "You'll have to excuse, Garran," Harrison said as he shook his head. "He has forgotten his manners, as usual."

  Garran fluttered his eyes with impatience. "May we proceed with this ludicrous meeting, so I can continue my hunt?"

  Isabella took a step back. "Do you think you're a werewolf, too?"

  His laugh was a deep rumble from the gut, as though the gesture was foreign to him. "Dear, naïve lassie, I am no' a werewolf."

  This should have made her feel better, but the way he made the claim had her wondering what sort of creature he thought himself to be. She narrowed her eyes, tilting her head to one side. She took in his aura; the colors surrounded him, but pulsed differently than Johanna's had, and didn't pulse the way Harrison's did, either. All of a sudden, Harrison's claims that monsters existed didn't seem too farfetched. This guy was at the hospital and a woman died after he visited her. "You're not human, are you?" The words just slipped out.