Soul Taker

by Nutt, Karen Michelle

  She let herself into the apartment and slammed the door behind her.

  Her brother burst out of his bedroom, an array of emotions made his aura shift colors, the dark clouds of worry blended with his normal hue of shades of blues and gold. "Where have you been? I've been calling your cell all night." He wore a bathrobe and clutched a book in one hand. He'd been waiting up for her.

  "When did you get back? I thought you were supposed to be gone a few days." She skirted around his question as she placed her keys and workout bag down, hoping to come up with a good explanation to where she'd been.

  "It was only a weekend seminar. I decided to come home tonight and you're changing the subject."

  She sighed. She could never pull a fast one on her brother. "I was at my…class."

  "A class that runs until after midnight?"

  Was it really that late? She'd lost track of time. "What? Are you my mother?" She stormed past him into the kitchen, flipping on a light. Nicholas followed her.

  She opened the refrigerator and took out the leftover lasagna. She was starved and no wonder after the workout Garran put her through.

  "No, but I was worried about you."

  She dished a generous helping onto a plate and covered it with a paper towel before placing it in the microwave. She turned to face Nicholas. Worry lines etched his brow, making her feel guilty. "Listen, I'm fine. Really. I'm taking a self-defense class." She wasn't exactly lying. "Want to see what I've learned?" She gave him a right jab to his arm. Her brother didn't crack a smile.

  "First, you ask me about the gun and now a self-defense class? What's all this about, Izzie?"

  "You don't want to hear it, so why ask?" She turned away, but he grabbed her arm.

  "I'm listening."

  Her gaze met his and held. For about half a second she thought of telling him about Harrison and Garran, but she quickly vetoed the idea. Her brother would be upset if he knew she experimented with their family's craft.

  She sensed Nicholas could see things Otherworldly, as she did, but because of their parents' death, he'd sworn not to practice or give in to the calling. Did he know vampires and werewolves existed, too? Their mother clearly had, and her journal proved it.

  Silence continued to radiate between them like an impending thundercloud ready to burst, but there would be no release tonight.

  The microwave beeped, but she'd lost her appetite. She didn't like keeping secrets from her brother, but she knew he would try to stop her from seeing Garran and Harrison again.

  "I'm going to my room." She opened the microwave and took out the plate of lasagna then grabbed a fork from the drawer.

  "Izzie, wait?"

  She didn't look back as she headed for her room. She slammed the door behind her. A few minutes later, she heard Nicholas' bedroom door close too.

  "What am I doing?" She didn't keep secrets from Nicholas. She sighed. Maybe she wouldn't have to anymore. She could just step away now. Harrison and Garran could have used her help, but the monster squad patted her on the head and sent her home.

  She'd only taken a few bites of the lasagna before she placed the plate down on her dresser. She didn't want to go back to the kitchen and have Nicholas confront her again. She'd clean the plate in the morning.

  She dressed for bed in an old comfortable T-shirt and shorts. She didn't think she could sleep, but once her head hit the pillow, her eyes felt heavy and she didn't fight it. She relaxed and let herself drift into the world of dreams.

  She stood in a cave. She knew she slept, but she also knew this wasn't her dream, but a memory of Garran's…

  Garran moved deeper into the cave, away from the sun that blinded him. His body shook, but not from the cold. One glance at Rory and he knew he wasn't faring any better than he was.

  "We're goin' to die here," Rory said.

  "Do no' be losin' hope just, yet," Garran told him. "When the blasted sun sets, we'll venture out and—"

  "And what?" Rory interrupted. "Find blood so we will live?"

  "I don't like it any better than ye do, but ye know we do no' have a choice. We will find an animal. Mayhap, its blood will suffice."

  Rory slid to the ground, clasping his hands around his knees. "She made us vile creatures."

  "Aye, but it was Alexander who sent us to her. Ye should blame him."

  "I'd like to do more than that." Rory licked his cracked lips. "Are we to live like animals for the rest of our lives, hidin' out in caves until we venture out again to hunt?"

  "We canno' go home. I do no' know of ye, but my thirst for blood is gettin' stronger every day. I crave it. We will have to drink soon." Garran knew it was hopeless to wish for home. They had the English breathing down their backs, and now the bloodlust to contend with. Both would put their families in danger.

  "Moira, will wonder what became of me," Rory said.

  "Ye canno' go to her. Ye will make her like us or worse, ye could kill her."

  "I know." He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wall of the cave. "I canno' go on like this. He opened his eyes and looked at Garran. "I beg of ye to end my life."

  Panic encircled Garran's heart threatening to shatter it. "Ye do no' mean it."

  "What good are we?"

  Garran didn't have the answers, but he had to hope there was a reason they were tested thus.

  It wasn't until the third night of their plight that they ventured out to hunt. They caught sight of another demon like them. They watched her stalk a deer. Her weapon was only her wits. She stared into the deer's eyes as if hypnotizing it to do her will.

  The animal wasn't afraid of her and even moved closer. It was like poetry in motion as the deer stood there, letting the woman caress it. She murmured words, but he could not make them out. Then in one fluent move, she sank her fangs into its neck.

  It stood there, a willing sacrifice with no fear, and when the beast sank to the ground, so did she until she had drunk her fill. She lifted her head and looked in their direction, causing them to stumble back into the shadows as if this would hide them. Both Rory and he were fools.

  Their eyesight had improved, allowing them to see heat patterns from long distances away. It only made sense this demon could see them as well.

  She was upon them so quickly they hadn't time to draw their swords. She tilted her lovely head to the side as if she were deciding what sort of animal they represented. Then a smile curved her lips. "You are both newly made—by Fallon, I presume." The disgust in her voice told what she felt about their maker. Her gaze was unnerving as if she sought to read their thoughts. "You have not fed in a while. If you wait too long the thirst will rule your actions." She turned to go, but Garran halted her. They needed her guidance.

  "Could ye show us how?" he braved to ask.

  She eyed them again. "Fallon did not teach you?"

  "We had no wish to be changed and we did no' want to be her slaves."

  She pursed her lips, then nodded. "Come then. I shall introduce you to the Sidhe. Leathan foresaw a change for the blood drinkers. Perhaps you are both what he referred to."

  The she-demon's name was Verity. She was indeed a vampyre, but of a different sept than Rory and he were from. Her sept—the Dearg-due—showed restraint for the humans who lived around them. Their oath was to never harm or they would endure the holy fires of hell. They sacrificed animals to stay the blood lust until they were fully mated.

  Verity spoke of one day finding her one true soul mate. They would share each other's blood to survive, but she had yet to find him.

  The MacLaurin stronghold was not far from where Verity and her sept lived, but Garran and Rory never knew of this clan's existence, and now they understood why. The sept stayed hidden from view, disappearing into their surroundings like will-o'-wisps. They were silent and fast. If a mortal sensed them, it was only as a spirit. They wanted to live in peace, with no wish to be hunted down like beasts.

  It was a far cry to what Fallon had to offer. She and her minions sought
havoc, instigated war and bloodshed. She thought nothing of draining a human dry. Sometimes she took a man's blood. Other times she drained their essence. As far as Garran believed, either way she stole her victims' souls. Fallon thought humans beneath her and easily dismissed.

  Garran and Rory were given a choice by the Sidhe, the god-like fae who ruled the faery glens and managed the stones. They must conform to the vampires of the glens or die.

  Garran and Rory had died once already, and that proved enough for them. Leathan saw to their training and learning the art of restraint.

  "There is a soul mate for each of us." Leathan placed a hand on Garran's forearm. "You will one day find yours."

  "I don't believe in soul mates and destinies." Garran's words were laced with sad longing.

  "But you will," Leathan insisted. "You may not like what fate has handed you, but if you had gone back to your stronghold, the English would have taken you prisoner. You would be dead."

  "I am dead, Leathan, or have ye forgotten? I have no clan, no true home. I am no' human and I am no' one of the Sidhe. Truth be told, I am no' a true vampyre either." He looked at Leathan. "What future does a Grim Sith truly have when there is no true home?"

  "We all must make our way in the world," Leathan said. "Your life is not over. It has only taken a different path. It is up to you, what you shall do with it."

  Isabella woke with a start. She knew she could not be seen in Garran's dream world… the link to his memories, but she noticed everything as if she had been there to witness the events.

  Sights, sounds, and smells were all part of the experience. Leathan, the Sidhe who had taken them in, had golden hair and a bronze aura that radiated the warmth of truth.

  She could still feel Garran's loneliness, his despair, his need to belong. She understood those things so well. She had felt as if she didn't belong too. Her gift proved a curse more times than not. It made her different, when all she wanted was to be like everyone else.

  Unlike Garran, Isabella believed in fate; that one met people for a reason. With Harrison and Garran, she didn't feel like a freak. She didn't have to hide what she saw and pretend everything would be all right. She'd taken a different path when Harrison asked for her help. She liked where this path took her and she had no intentions of changing course now.

  Her gaze landed on the alarm clock, sitting on her nightstand. She dreamed weeks of Garran's life, but she'd only dozed for twenty minutes. She wasn't too late. She pulled back the covers and headed over to her closet, throwing open the doors.

  She yanked on a pair of black leggings and chose the black formfitting exercise shirt. The outfit would camouflage her and also allow her to move fast, if her defense moves were needed. On the top shelf, she removed the tool belt she'd used for an art class she took in college, while she tried to figure out what she wanted to do with her life. She had an associate degree, but when the economy suffered, so did business at the restaurant. She dropped out of school to help Nicholas run the restaurant.

  She fingered the tool belt with fond memories.

  The belt was lightweight, but sturdy. She could easily use it to secure a gun, cell phone…flashlight…among other things.

  Once dressed, she opened her purse and grabbed the Glock and secured it to her belt. She then lifted the edge of her mattress and retrieved her mother's journal. She flipped to the page with the incantation to send the undead's soul back to the veil. It wasn't a difficult spell. She just needed to memorize the Latin phrases and the basis of the chant.

  She scanned the page, wondering if there was a way to send just one vampire's soul into the veil. She feared if she tried to send one, all vampires in close range would be in danger of having their souls returned to the other side. If that were the case, this spell would be useless. She couldn't risk using it, if Garran was close by.

  "Mom, I wish you were here to help me." In moments like this, she truly missed her guidance. She closed the book. As she lifted the mattress to return the journal to her hiding place, the book slipped from her hands and landed at her feet. She let the mattress go and leaned down to retrieve it. It lay open. She was about to close the book, but the curious symbols drew her attention. She read the page with interest.

  Not all undead are evil.

  She recalled that her mother had written and underlined that same passage on the page of the expulsion incantation. Of course, her mother would have searched for a loophole and this was it.

  She glanced heavenward. "Thank you, Mom."

  Words were powerful. If they were spoken out loud, the power increased. But spoken out loud and written down before being sealed, the power of the incantation proved almost unbreakable.

  She recalled Uncle Sebastian always saying the Romans really knew how to curse someone. They used thin metal sheets to etch their prayers and curses. They would then heat the metal and roll it into a scroll before it cooled, binding the curse. What she wanted to do wasn't a curse, but a protection spell, but the process worked the same way.

  She may not have thin sheets of metal, but paper and permanent marker worked in a pinch. She drew the protective circle, adding Garran's name.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Garran wanted to observe the Mahoneys' warehouse from a distance, hoping to gauge what they were up against. Everything appeared normal… quiet, perhaps too quiet.

  Harrison tapped him on the shoulder and pointed toward the wharf where two vampires stood by a black SUV. "Four over there," Harrison pointed toward the area adjacent to the warehouse, "trying to blend into the shadows, and two more by the front entrance. I count eight total that are in plain view."

  "All vampires." Garran breathed in deeply. The scent of his kin hit his nostrils to confirm whom they were up against. "They're part of the Bobhan Sith sept. They're Grim Siths like me."

  Most of the vampire septs didn't mix company when it came down to working together on a job. Each sept had their own set of rules to abide by, and vampires weren't known to compromise their ethics.

  However, Alexander was a rogue, building his own forces for whatever endeavor he worked on here in Boston. He supposed Alexander wanted his territory or, at the very least, wanted him disgraced. The Guards of Judgment, who were the Nephilim, the Watchers—or rather the children of the Fallen Angels—they weren't lenient if the territories assigned could not be governed with a strong hand. Garran needed to bring Alexander down if he wished to remain here.

  "I doubt the Mahoneys invited these blokes over for tea," Garran grumbled. If the vampires were strolling about without a care, the Mahoneys were indeed dead.

  Harrison cursed under his breath. "It's possible they're holding Frimrose inside the warehouse. Though eight vamps to guard one human female seems excessive."

  Garran shook his head. "Remember Frimrose isn't just any female. She's Monette's spawn. If Monette spoke the truth, the lass possesses close to as much power as her mother. Frimrose could hold her own against one vampire, maybe even two. I wouldn't be surprised if Monette took down a few vamps to save her daughter, before Alexander realized what the voodoo witch was capable of doing. Still, eight guards... It makes me think they're here for another purpose." He looked over his shoulder to Harrison. "How about we take a quick peek?"

  Harrison's lips slid into a cocky grin. "You know me. I never walk away from a good fight. Let's give these wankers something to think about, shall we?"

  ****

  Isabella parked her car on the street so not to draw attention to her arrival. At a brisk walk, she headed toward the warehouse. The night proved cool, and the scent of sea lingered in the air. She had pulled her long hair into a ponytail before she left home. It would keep her strands from frizzing into her face and hampering her vision.

  She slowed her pace, taking cautious steps as she neared her destination. She gripped her flashlight in one hand and her gun in the other. A loud clatter to the right of her rang through the night, making her jump. She swung her flashlight in the direction of the s
ound and sighed in relief when a calico cat sauntered out from behind the trash bins. "Ah, pretty girl, you scared me."

  Ninety-nine percent of all calicos were female, a tidbit she picked up from the animal channel on TV. Chances were pretty good this one was too. The cat came over to her and rubbed against her legs, meowing as she did. "Friendly kitty, aren't you." Actually she was happy for the company. "Come with me if you must, but keep quiet."

  She turned off her flashlight and shoved it into her belt. She didn't want to draw attention to herself by flashing a light like a beacon. She would have to rely on the security lights situated at various points around the building. When she reached the outer building, she halted her steps when she spotted a movement. "There it is, kitty," she whispered, "the Mahoneys' warehouse. See those bad vamps out there? You don't want to mess with them. They most likely did the Mahoneys in, damn bloodsuckers." Then it dawned on her what Harrison had told her. The Mahoneys were werecats. As in…

  Her gaze riveted to where the calico should have been only to see a tall slender woman with dark blonde hair standing in its place. Isabella stumbled back and would have fallen, but the woman's hand snaked out and steadied her.

  "I won't harm you." The woman's catlike eyes met hers.

  Isabella recovered some of her composure. "You're a Mahoney, aren't you?" She asked just to clarify, but since the calico disappeared and this woman took its place, it seemed quite obvious. Obvious? She almost chuckled. A few days ago, she didn't know werecats existed.

  The woman nodded. "I was away, visiting my mother in Ohio. Me Da and her split up a few years ago." Her soft Irish lilt came through with her words.