The Soul Collector (previously released as Angel's Fire, Demon's Blood)
Page 21
A long howl of unbearable pain erupted. The sound rose from the depths of Lucien's palms, the echo of the anguished cries of a million spirits rising hungrily into the air. A great ray of shimmering light radiated from his flesh and the wails of despair increased to a deafening tempo.
Eva's eyes widened at the images rose from Lucien's tortured palm, her horror clear. From the distorted flesh of his hand, while his cry of agony echoed those he gathered, flew the trapped souls he had held for centuries.
Garish and anguished features, pleading sepia images with sad and dark eyes, shot from his hand. More obscure clouds of daemons huddled in darker corners. They swirled about her, tugging at the folds of her coat, their chilled hands caressing her face. Eva held her breath, unable to think, feeling herself torn from Julian's suffocating clutches.
She fell hard on the ground, her palms scraping the rocks, the air knocked from her. She rolled on her back, gasping. She watched in horror as the spirits, the images of millions of unredeemed phantoms, spun about Julian's raggedly clad figure. He screeched, loud and deafening, a sound filled with abject terror.
…daemon's blood!
Julian swatted wildly at the air. His efforts were useless as his twisted hands shot through the gossamer forms dancing about him, plucking, and pulling at the rags he wore. Fear contorted his face, a terror so intense a high-pitched scream rose from his fetid mouth.
At that moment, the sepia, gray and black images sought entry.
A loud screech of unrestrained pleasure echoed loudly as each spiraling soul employed the advantage of the open orifice, burrowing deep into his ancient body. Julian shot high into the air, hovering beneath the buttresses, and the flow of tormented spirits continued to emerge from Lucien's hand.
She scurried backwards, attempting to reach Lucien as agonized cries filled the air.
Far swifter than she realized, Eva reached him when he fell to his knees. She knelt beside him, her face pressed to his shoulder and her arms encircling his waist. Lucien's skin twitched and trembled as the endless issuance of souls shot from him, seeking Julian.
Julian remained suspended in the air, his screams as agonized as the spirits about him. The ghostly images twisted him about in a semblance of his own garish dance of pleasure. The howls of agony increased and Eva pressed her ears to Lucien's chest, wishing the moment would end.
Suddenly, there was silence.
She lifted her head, her eyes flying to Lucien's brother. He remained suspended in air by the unseen force of many. Lucien's hands fell and he gasped for breath, his arms embracing her shivering, but ever-glowing body.
Light illuminated the chamber. This brightness whisked the breath from Eva as she slipped further into the comfort of Lucien's embrace. The glow reflected varying shades of darkness, filled with crimsons and blacks, greens and umbers. Julian's body twisted about, appearing attached to tangled cords, as the colors intensified. His red eyes, staring in horror at the two figures far below his feet, were brilliant.
Julian opened his mouth. A single gasp, resembling an undignified belch, erupted from him. Eva shielded her eyes, just as he exploded into a million flaming fragments of ash.
***
“Don’t ever risk for your life for me, Evangeline.” Lucien words were uttered close to her ear while he carried her from the crumbling castle. She couldn't control her laugh and pressed her lips to his vibrant flesh, causing him to scowl. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and trusting, enveloping him in warmth he experienced only with her touch.
“Lucien,” she murmured his name caressingly, pressing a hand to his cheek. “I would do it all again for you, without regret.” �
“Why?” �
“I’ll always be at your side,” she uttered the declaration with surprising firmness, her expression serious. In the distance, she heard the overjoyed shouts of Lucien's team, loud and raucous as they spied them on the snow-covered hill. She blinked, attempting to focus on his beloved features. His skin was warm, blissfully and humanly, and he pressed his cheek to the curve of her palm. His breath quivered against her flesh and he nuzzled her sensitive skin.
“I thought I would lose you,” the admission was difficult, her throat aching with unshed tears. She stared into his flushed features, his coloring vibrant, snowflakes melting as they landed on his skin
“Impossible, Evangeline,” he smiled as he uttered the denial.
“I didn't want Julian to take you from me.” She stroked his face, feeling the dampness seeping from the corners of his steely colored eyes. “I couldn't live if I had lost you.” �
“Yet, I'm here, my angel,” his words broke.
“I love you, Lucien.” �
"Not nearly as much as you, my angel." His kiss was long, poignant, and sweet. She arched upwards, pulling his head closer. Joy flooded her heart and warmed her.
“Are you still cursed?” She pulled away and pressed her head to his shoulder, inhaling the unmistakably fragrant scent of his flesh.
His response was a short bark of laughter, ironic albeit lacking in the bitterness she presumed would be evident.
“I don’t imagine the spirits shall leave me,” he admitted, reluctantly. “However, at this moment, there's nothing filling this landscape.”
“Is it too early to tell?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“I'm sorry.” �
“I'm not.” He smiled, not viewing his sight as the curse previously thought. “I’ve spent nearly four hundred years looking at the otherworld through these eyes. I may not know how to function if my power vanished.” �
He began the slow trek to the awaiting sedan, whispered words of love with each step he took. He cradled her close, feeling his heartbeat and the exhalations of burning breaths escape his lungs.
“Lucien,” Eva began, her hand pressed to his heart, the steady thrum of the organ obvious. “Do you regret your power?”
“In the past, I regretted every moment. Now, I accept all it encompasses. When I consider the curse that condemned me to wait for my angel’s fire, I have to count every second as a blessing,” he responded, interrupting her by brushing the lightest pressure of his lips across her brow, all without losing stride. “We are alive, my love. By the grace of my angel's fire, I'm alive, and with the one I love.” �
She smiled against his shoulder, her face pressed close to his warmth. Yes, he was alive. She felt the blood coursing freely through his veins, the thudding of his heart, and the soft rise and fall of his chest with every breath he took.
This time, his humanity had nothing to do with her nearness. He had returned to the world of the living and he was human, again. She pressed her lips to his jaw, savoring the warmth exuding from his skin, a contented sigh escaping her.
…you're making me sick�
EPILOGUE
I smile and my soul is satisfied with the events of the world.
The evil afflicting my heart, altogether against all I believed, has vanished.
No longer am I a sorrowful soul meant to traverse the haunted roads of my beloved St. Lorraine.
As I had foreseen, there was an angel of the light destined to salvage the wretched soul of the daemon, granting the youngest of our dear Queen Anjelie redemption.
As all tales of yore should begin, thus this tale did commence,
As all fairy tales should end, this shall, as well.
Happy.