Soul Merchant (Isabella Hush Series Book 5)

by Thea Atkinson

  "Doesn't the Pussy Gate come with a lock?" I said as I did so and tugged at the comforter because I felt chilly without it. "The very least it could do is scratch your eyes out when you decide to visit uninvited."

  "Only a fool would do that," he said, sounding amused.

  "You made the thing so it would vibrate," I countered. "So, who's a fool?"

  I felt him climb onto the bed and kneel behind me.

  "I didn't realize what I was doing," he said from somewhere above me.

  There was something in his voice. Something I wasn't sure he wanted me to hear. I twisted so I could look up at him over my shoulder. Through my narrowed gaze, I was able to make out his russet buzz cut and stubble. He was wearing a white t-shirt that did very little to hide his size. He looked much better, healed up pretty nice if I did say so.

  But that didn't excuse him, especially in light of his expression.

  "Sweet baby Jesus," I said in reaction to what it said. "You did so know what you were doing."

  He threw up his hands, guilty as the day is long.

  I sat up, throwing the corner of the comforter still clinging to my legs aside.

  "You bastard. You did that on purpose."

  His face gave nothing away but I knew I was right.

  "Trust a thousand-year-old virgin to make a sexually frustrated portal. Honest to Pete." I thought better of throwing the warmth of the comforter aside and pulled it over my shoulders as I faced him.

  "I'm not a thousand years old," he said, but there was a glint in his eye that told me I had hit it right on the nail head.

  "And what do you think you'll gain from me getting wound up every time I use the damn thing. Presuming I ever decide to use it," I said.

  He chuckled and scooched down so his back was against the headboard. He tugged at the comforter, pulling me down beside him in the same motion. Before I knew it, we were cocooned together beneath the blanket. His body felt warm and solid, and it was all I could do not to snuggle in.

  "They let you spoon in the priesthood?" I said.

  "I'm not a priest either," he said. "I might be a virgin and celibate but there are things a man can do with that frustration if he's creative enough."

  I made a sound that indicated exactly what I thought of that.

  "And what I thought I would get when I made the gate," he said. "Was a little appreciation."

  "It damn well stops just before it finishes anything," I said.

  "I know the feeling well," he murmured. "You don't like it?"

  "You really are a virgin if you think sexual frustration is pleasant," I said and tried to climb out the other side of the comforter. He might be celibate by choice but I was only so by unhappy circumstance.

  "I think you did it because you can't stand being celibate and you want me to suffer for it."

  "What's to be gained from your suffering?" he said. "Only a true bastard would think that way."

  I didn't say that it was the kind of thing Scottie would have done. One way to demonstrate his power over me.

  "I did it because I don't know the feeling of release," he said. "I can't make what I don't know."

  His voice was a low whisper at that and it made me pause just long enough for him to snag me by the waist and pulled me close, maneuvering me so that I was lying on top of him, face to face. My heart was hammering so hard it felt like his was pounding into my ribcage.

  "You're so cold, Isabella," he said.

  "Pot. Kettle."

  "No, " he said, brushing the back of his hand across my forehead. "Cold. Like, temperature wise."

  "What did you come here for?" I said, because I had a feeling I was cold because he was so damn hot. I wanted to melt against him.

  "The kitten," he said. "It won't eat."

  There was worry in his voice and it did nothing to halt the cascade of lust that had started to sweep over me. In fact, it did the exact opposite. I wondered what he'd do if I pulled off that shirt of his and ran my mouth over his belly.

  "Isabella?" he said. "Maybe it will eat for you."

  "Hmm?" I said, struggling to pull my mind back to the here and now and not into the cesspool of images it was conjuring.

  "It won't eat. It likes you. Maybe you can get it to swallow something."

  Oh damn. Just. Damn.

  "Come on," he said, somehow managing to stand up with me straddled to him for a long moment before he eased me onto the floor. The way my feet hit cold tile, was like a cold shower.

  "OK," I said with a sigh. It was getting nowhere anyway. "But I'm not going by Pussy Gate. I've had enough frustration for one week."

  He smiled down at me, all heart-stoppingly eager. "No need," he said. "I brought her with me. She's in the living room playing with your cat."

  She was indeed playing with the cat and the sight was enough to make me stare with my mouth wide open. The cat did not play. She tore socks apart and left prizes for me all over the house, but she wasn't one to chase a string when I dangled it. If she was going to deign to swat at anything in fun it was going to be on her terms.

  "Well, I'll be smoked," I said, and crossed the room to where both cats were roiling around and batting playfully at each other.

  I intended to pick the small one up. My cat got in the way, though. She hissed, spine arched up, and then swiped at me. She didn't connect, but she pulled back again and I growled at her.

  "You bitch," I said. "Don't you even dare."

  I reached past her toward the little one because obviously, I was as bad as Maddox at learning my lesson.

  Of course, the kitten did the same thing. Except she did connect. I heard Maddox suck in a breath from behind me.

  I stood up, nursing the scratch that she had landed on the top of my hand.

  "Ya, she's quick," I agreed.

  "Isabella?" Maddox said from behind me.

  I and turned to see his face had gone an ashen pallor.

  "What?" I said, wondering what could have him so worried about a little scratch. "Am I bleeding out somewhere I don't see?"

  "You," he said. "The kitten."

  "Yeah the little beast is as bad as my cat." I shot her a nasty glare. "Both need to learn a little manners."

  "That's not it," he said, approaching me with a narrowed gaze. He looked from me to the kitten and then to the cat. "You know what this means, right?"

  I licked at the scratch, tasting blood. "Obviously not if you've got your drawers in a twist."

  He caught my hands and held them close to his chest as he touched my forehead with his lips. They roamed across the skin as far as the temple where they rested. I couldn't help leaning in and lifting my gaze to his. Maybe he was feeling a little hot. Maybe I was too. Maybe it was time to test that damn celibacy.

  I slipped my arms around his waist and arched upwards, giving him full access to my mouth if he wanted it.

  His eyes held mine long enough that I started to think he was considering it.

  "Go on," I murmured. "I won't tell anyone."

  "Did Kerri say anything to you about the success of your visit to the hospital?"

  That wasn't what I was expecting at all. I pulled away but he held me firm.

  "Isabella," he said. "There's something wrong and you know it."

  I yanked my arms back and swatted him with the back of one of my hands. "It's a scratch, Maddox. That's all. What's wrong is that little beast of yours should have been left to die in the alley."

  I scooped up a sock from the arm of the chair and tossed it at her. "Both of you should have," I said.

  The sock fell short of its target and Maddox grabbed my wrist when I picked up the cushion from the chair to do the same thing.

  "You're not right, Isabella. You're cold. Your own cat hates you. But the kitten wasn't afraid of you at first. She is now. Don't you see what that means?

  I stared at him, unblinking, waiting for him to enlighten me.

  I watched his Adam's apple plunge in his throat as he gathered the words.
r />   "What it means," he said. "Is you don't have your soul back at all."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  "WHAT DID KERRI SAY when she slipped off the ferryman skin?" he said.

  I was sitting in my living room on the sofa while Maddox knelt in front of me with his hands on my knees. It was a firm grip, and had been since he'd dropped me on the couch a few minutes earlier.

  The cats had decided to hightail it up the stairs, the direct result of me testing Maddox's theory that I was still soulless by running at them like a banshee.

  It probably didn't help that I screamed at them like a banshee either. The little beasts hissed and sprung up like rubber balls that had hit the floor with considerable force, before leaping at me and swiping with claws extended. Then they used all that spit and vinegar to flee, leaving me laughing at them from the bottom of the steps.

  The laughter was probably what prompted Maddox to lift me unceremoniously by my waist and carry me like a sack of flour under his arm and on his hip to drop me down on the sofa. It was probably the spitting and fighting I did after that that prompted him to hold me there until I agreed not to move.

  His question was simple enough, but I couldn't see how it made any difference. What did Kerri say? Not much.

  I shrugged. "She said it was all good."

  "All good," he said. "Really? That's what she said?"

  "What she said," I mused out loud, because I wasn't sure I could remember her exact words, "was that it was good enough."

  "Good enough?" Maddox squeezed my knees and I yelped.

  "Hey, don't manhandle the goods," I complained.

  "What did she say?"

  "She wanted to know how I felt, is what," I told him, and held his gaze because he just wouldn't be dissuaded. "She said I looked better."

  "And?"

  "And then she said it was good enough. Then she left."

  I couldn't see what the hubbub was all about, really. As far as I was concerned, I'd lived through the whole ordeal, got my soul back, and as a bonus, still had the grimoire tucked away for a rainy day.

  Life was good.

  "When she asked you how you felt, what did you say?" he pressed.

  I shrugged.

  He pinched the bridge of his nose but stopped just short of looking annoyed. "Well?"

  "I just showed you," I told him. "I shrugged. That was my answer."

  I glared at him and tried to pull my knees out from beneath his death grip. He was being stubborn and for no good reason.

  "If I ask you how you feel, are you going to tell me you feel your soul? " I barked out a laugh. "I mean, really."

  It had to be pretty much like your bladder or your appendix, didn't it? Unless it was hurting how would you know?

  He did not take my unconcerned reaction well. In fact, he looked pretty put out over my nonchalance.

  "Your landlord," he said. "How is he?"

  "Djedi," I said, lifting a finger. "The pharaoh's magician turned immortal necromancer, capable of cutting off the head of a ferryman with a single blow."

  I was actually pretty proud of the summation.

  This time he did pinch the bridge of his nose. "Your landlord. He is well?"

  "I just said so, didn't I?" I pushed him aside and headed for the kitchen. A bowl of chips was in order. Maybe some ice cream. I might still have some left over from the weekend shopping trip.

  "Isabella?"

  "He got up," I shot back. "Growled at us both, and is now safely ensconced in his lair next door."

  I opened the cupboard and grabbed a bag of plain chips sealed with a clothes pin for freshness. "You think maybe he'll make the cats hiss too?" I spun around with the bag in my hand. "I mean, he's a necromancer after all."

  I grinned at him.

  "You're not helping," Maddox said and stood up to cross his arms over his chest. "I'm telling you, something isn’t right, you aren't right." He was shaking his head. "The Isabella I know wouldn't mention killing her cat. She wouldn't pass this threat off as inconsequential. She wouldn't..."

  "Wouldn't what?"

  His shoulders sagged and he looked away, pinning his gaze to the floor. "She wouldn't try to seduce me."

  The laugh erupted from my throat so suddenly that I choked on my own spit and ended up coughing till I was heaving.

  "That's your proof that I'm not right?" I said when the fit ended, and pulled air quotes down around the last words aggressively enough that the clip fell off the bag of chips.

  "You think my soul is still stuck in Hell somewhere because I wanted to boink you? Oh dear. You fashion me a body sized vibrator and think because it leaves me frustrated that I don't have a soul anymore. Oh, that's too rich."

  I stooped to pick up the clothes pin and dumped it on the counter then brandished the bag at him. "You want proof that I'm the same old Isabella? Watch me slouch on the couch with a bag of chips and ice cream."

  "I've seen the show," he drawled. "It isn't pretty."

  I blinked at him. He'd just insulted me. I waited for a reaction, some sort of indignation or hurt tightening my chest.

  But I felt nothing.

  Absolutely nothing.

  "Oh, fuck me," I said. "I really don't have my soul, do I?"

  I wasn't aware I'd dropped the bag of chips until Maddox was in front of me, bending to retrieve it from the floor at my feet. Chips had flown out everywhere.

  "It didn't work," I mumbled. "I don't understand. Why didn't it work." I slammed my palm on the counter, squashing several nice stray ripples into crumbs.

  "I knew it was too damn easy."

  "Let's not panic, Kitten," he said in a soothing voice, as he reached past me to lay the bag on the counter. "We'll work through it."

  I nodded at him, a storm of thoughts colliding against each other in their haste to make me panic first.

  "Right," I said. "Work through it." I started to pace. "I felt it, though, Maddox. I tasted it."

  He put his arm on my shoulder. "Tasted it?"

  I nodded again. "Like candy apple and rotten fruit."

  His jaw seesawed back and forth while he considered what I'd said.

  "I wasn't aware souls had a taste, but I'm willing to bet that if it did, it wouldn't taste like rotten fruit."

  He stroked his chin, his fingers making his russet five o'clock stubble rustle. "Did anything strange happen while you were connected to Kerri and the ferryman?"

  "How would I know?" I growled, angry now that the whole incident had been a waste of time and the anxiety a waste of energy. "I'm human, remember? I don't have any special powers of insight that you don't know about."

  He held up his hands in surrender. "Innocent bystander here."

  I stabbed him in the chest with my finger, sudden fury sweeping through me as I thought of the thing that had started all this like a house of flimsy cards on an unbalanced table.

  "No, you're not." I growled. "If it wasn't for your damned Lilith stone, I'd not be in this mess. I wouldn't have some nasty bond to Hell that Isme could use to try to swap bodies with me."

  He grappled for my finger and held it tight in his fist as he caught my eye. He caught my use of the vampire's name, and his eyes flashed, but he didn't speak to that. What he did was remind me ever so calmly about the true state of things.

  "If not for me, you'd no doubt be dead by your lover's hand by now," he said quietly. "At worst, you'd be stuck in hell with no way to escape Lucifer's clutches."

  He let go my hand and let it drop to my side. I felt my face crumble at the kindness in his tone because of course he was right. If it was anybody's fault at all, it was mine for pickpocketing Finn all those months ago, even if I'd done it out of habit and not intention. Stowing that rune tile in my pocket had laid the first shaky card that introduced the entire supernatural world into my own tumultuous one.

  At best it was nobody's fault. It was awful happenstance that brought me here, and Maddox was doing his best, despite me, to help me extricate myself from it all.


  It was a measure of how far gone I was that I forgot that important fact.

  I sank onto the floor, my back against the counter. I drew my knees up to my chest and hugged them tight. My head fell onto them and I pressed my forehead hard into the bones so I could feel something. Anything. Even despair would be lovely. Shame would be the most appropriate, but even that eluded me, and I was exhausted at the thought that I needed all of them badly.

  I heard Maddox pacing the apartment talking to himself, working it out verbally while I sat there, staring into the shadows of my legs.

  His muttering did nothing but aggravate my own sense of helplessness. I sighed and pushed myself from the floor. I wanted to think of something else. What use was there in worrying over something I couldn't fix? At least not in the traditional sense. It seemed to me that the problem wasn't in not having a soul, but in dying without one.

  And that particular thought seeded one more.

  I had a special bond. Even Djedi had asked about it. It was one that Absalom wanted; the reason Maddox had felt it important enough to install a portal in my basement. It seemed to me that it was the one thing we were all overlooking because it was right there in front of us, hiding in plain sight.

  "There is one thing that can fix it," I said. "Maybe."

  He swung around mid-pace, stopping in front of the window. Sun shone in and glinted off his russet hair in a way that made my throat tight.

  "Did you remember something?" he said.

  "In a way." I took a tentative step toward him.

  He slumped down onto the sofa, man-spreading and hanging his elbows over his knees. Everything in his posture sagged in relief and I supposed if I did have a soul, I'd be encouraged that he cared enough to be so.

  But I didn't have a soul. Not anymore. And what was a human being without a soul? That was the crux of it really.

  I knelt in front of him, slipping between his knees. I wasn't sure what he'd think of what I had to say.

  "What if I wasn't human anymore," I said. "What if I was immortal?"

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  "YOU WANT TO BE IMMORTAL?" he said, narrowing his gaze at me. "You who gave up that chance when the stone tried to bond with you."