Dark Soul (An Ascended Angels Chronicle )

by Kim Petersen

  Arella caught sight of the man and froze as she watched him. Her head began to whirl and her breathing came in short spurts. He was only a few strides away. She shrunk back when his bulky arms reached for her as Jacques flew up from behind her and threw himself into the man. They hit the ground hard, and began an awkward topple down the hill back toward the bushes. When they came to a stop, Jacques scrambled to his feet before swooping down to gouge the man’s eyes.

  ‘Jacques!’ Arella screamed, running toward him.

  The other man had emerged from the trees. He sprinted toward Jacques, and growled as he lunged at him. Jacques shrieked as he tried to dodge the attack, but fell under the man’s weight. Jacques choked as he struggled for breath. The man straddled him and began to pummel his face with his balled fists.

  ‘No!’ Arella yelled, kicking into the side of the man with all her strength.

  The man sneered at her then smiled when he saw his accomplice come up behind her. Thick arms clutched her waist and held her like a vice. She squirmed and twisted against him. Her cries echoed down the street as she watched helplessly as the other attacker hammered into her friend a few more times.

  ‘What do you want?’ she screamed through clenched teeth.

  The man straddling Jacques paused his onslaught and looked at her.

  ‘You two have been meddling around town for too long; asking too many questions. Your friend, Keira is no longer yours, she belongs to someone else now.’ He turned back to Jacques who was moaning beneath him.

  Her eyes narrowed. ‘No, no, no!’ She shook her head and squeezed her eyes as a dome of opaque light filtered down over them.

  The man who held her captive dropped to his knees behind her. Her aquamarine eyes glowed as she turned and gazed down at him as if looking right through him.

  He began to whimper at her feet. ‘I … I can’t move!’ His face contorted as he tried to resist the unseen force imprisoning him.

  She smiled slightly before turning back to Jacques’ attacker. He appeared dazed and dumbfounded as he watched his partner struggle. She turned her focus on him. He peered up at her, his face frozen in fear. Her eyes intensified. He tore his eyes from hers and watched his big fist clench and repeatedly swing with lightning speed into his bottom jaw until he lost consciousness.

  Jacques scurried away from under him and collapsed to his knees. He moaned and clutched his bloodied nose.

  ‘Rella, I think he has broken my nose!’

  Arella shook her head as her legs gave way and she collapsed to the ground next to him. Her mind whirled like a spinning top as she tried to focus her eyes on Jacques.

  She grappled for him.

  ‘Jacques?’ Her hand found his and relief swept through her. ‘Jacques, are you okay? Where are the men that attacked us? What happened?’

  He blinked at her. ‘Are you serious, Button?’ He rose to his feet and pulled her up. ‘Come on, we have to get out of here. I’ll fill you in later.’

  She took the brunt of his weight as they limped from the park area. Her sight began to clear, and she looked for the old man she had seen earlier. He was splayed out over the park bench, his head snuggled under newspaper and resting on a dirty duffel bag. A loud snore issued from his prostrate form. She frowned. The scene felt eerie. I’m missing something here. She swung her gaze behind them, spotting both their attackers lying on the ground. One was rolling around moaning while the other was unmoving. She glanced at Jacques, who was whimpering like a child and nursing his nose. I’m definitely missing something here, she thought, as they emerged onto the footpath.

  Bright lights seared through her scrambled thoughts as she sighted the entrance to a club across the street. She quickened her pace as Jacques lagged behind.

  ‘Come on, we’ll go in there and ask for help. You need to help.’

  Jacques squinted as he read the club signage. He paused midway across the road. ‘The Underpass? Did you hit your head too? We can’t go in there!’

  Car horns sounded as Jacques remained on the road.

  She gripped his arm firmly and pulled hard. ‘Yes, we can go in there, Jacques. You need to wash up while we wait for a taxi.’

  He relented and allowed her to steer him to the curb while a man leaned out a car window and hurtled abuse at them.

  Jacques grimaced. ‘You never stop, girl,’ he muttered.

  She glared back at him then gasped when she noticed his severely swollen eyes and bloody nose under the neon lights. ‘Oh Jacques!’ She encircled an arm around him.

  A sob caught in his throat. ‘I think I need to go to hospital,’ he croaked.

  She nodded. ‘You definitely need help, but my aunty Bella can heal you much faster than any hospital.’ She motioned toward the club entrance. ‘Let’s go inside so you can wash up quickly.’

  He groaned loudly.

  She flashed him a grin. ‘What? I’m sure they have bathrooms.’

  The truth was, she had been searching for an excuse to get into this club since she started looking for Keira. The Underpass was notorious for its selective clientele, and the club’s reputation surrounding its gangland hosts even more so; a fact that intrigued her enough to try her hand at gaining entry a few times in the past to no avail. She was certain that whoever had Keira, might be connected to the infamous Knowles family.

  She started for the door. This might be my lucky night after all. She paused abruptly and held her breath when a beefy looking security guard blocked her way.

  ‘Sorry miss, this is a private club.’

  ‘Oh, I didn’t realize. My friend is hurt,’ she said, gesturing at Jacques. ‘He needs to use the bathroom real quick; would that be okay?’ She put on her best sweet voice.

  The bouncer crossed his arms and stood firm.

  She rolled her eyes and began to back away.

  ‘Alright then,’ she mumbled. Nice guy.

  She started, almost tripping as she backed into a man standing behind her. She whirled around, swishing long strands of hair across her lips as she muttered her apologies. She lifted her eyes to a charismatic smile. The man was a lot taller than her, and judging by his expensive suit, she was certain his bank account was considerably taller than hers too. The chiseled features of his face were smooth and tanned in contrast to his unruly long blond hair.

  He tilted his head, amusement striking through his dark blue eyes.

  ‘It’s fine,’ he laughed. He looked at the security guard. ‘Al, let us be hospitable and allow these two to use the restrooms while waiting for their ride.’

  Her legs began to feel like jelly. The big man nodded, his bald head shining under the lights as he stepped aside.

  ‘Yes boss.’

  The blond man opened the glass door. ‘After you,’ he said.

  Arella gave the security guard a look of triumph before slipping through the entrance. ‘Thank you,’ she murmured.

  Tonight might be my lucky night after all.

  Regan’s eyes fell to her full-figured bottom as he strolled in behind them. Her fitted jeans hugged her skin, clinging with each movement of her swaying hips. Her tumble of long hair swept across her waist and appeared thick and lustrous, and almost as unruly as his. She hesitated. Her arm moved across her friend’s back, her vivid eyes scanning the large room. He deliberately slowed his pace while drinking in her image as he came up beside her. I could almost swear off blondes forever! he mused, mesmerized as her full lips parted and she turned to blink in his direction.

  ‘Where can we find the restrooms?’

  Almost.

  He caught sight of a stunning blonde slinking toward the bar as he gestured. ‘You’ll find them round the back of the bar,’ he smiled.

  She glanced over the crowd and sighted the bar. ‘Thanks.’

  She began to lead her wounded friend away.

  Regan frowned. He wasn’t used to women ignoring his smile, on the contrary, it was all it usually took to get them swooning.

  ‘Hey, would you like a drink?�
�� he called after them.

  She conferred with the man next to her before glancing back at him.

  ‘Sure. We’ll have a coke – lots of ice, and a scotch on the rocks with a twist please.’ She flashed him a short grin.

  Well, at least I got a little something.

  ‘Meet you over there.’ He pointed toward a round table in the far corner of the room.

  She returned to him alone a few minutes later. He watched with fascination as she flung her handbag over the back of a chair before removing her black leather jacket and tossing it over her bag. She took a moment to take in her surroundings. There were three levels in the club, each was in full swing. They were at street level, and it was jam-packed with guests. There were people idling over pool tables, drinking and chatting in small groups around tables and lovers discreetly intertwined in the darkened corners.

  ‘Looking for someone?’

  She swung her gaze to him. ‘As a matter of fact, yes,’ she said, taking a chair opposite him.

  She fumbled in her bag and pulled out her phone. She scrolled through it before turning the screen toward him. ‘I’m looking for my friend Keira. She’s been missing for about six months and I’ve discovered that she’s been forced into prostitution against her will.’

  Regan looked at the bright screen. The photo showed a young vibrant woman sitting in the sun. Her golden-brown hair grazed over her bare shoulders and her even white teeth gleamed with her smile. He thought her strikingly pretty.

  ‘I’m sorry, I don’t know this woman,’ he said.

  ‘How do you know? You’ve barely looked.’

  She thrust the phone toward him again, almost bumping his nose.

  He reeled back to focus on the screen. ‘Believe me, if I had seen this woman, I would remember.’ He looked at her and grinned. ‘I never forget a pretty face.’

  She rolled her eyes as a bartender approached their table with a tray of drinks.

  ‘So, which one of you is living dangerously tonight and having the scotch with the twist?’ Regan laughed.

  She reached for the coke. ‘I confess to being the coke addict. Besides, I never drink on the job,’ she said briskly, taking a sip.

  ‘Job?’ Nice lips.

  She sighed. ‘I did mention I am looking for my friend; you know, the pretty face you’d never forget.’

  ‘Ah, yes. This friend is quite important to you. How did she go missing?’

  ‘Well, if I knew that I probably wouldn’t be out every Friday night searching for her, would I?’ she snapped.

  His brows raised. Feisty one; even better. He allowed his gaze to drift over her while he took a sip of his own drink. ‘Do you have a name?’

  ‘Do you?’

  ‘Regan. Yours?’

  She was about to answer when her friend came up behind her groaning. ‘Rella, can we go now?’

  ‘Rella?’ Regan said.

  She shot him a look before settling her eyes on Jacques.

  ‘Yes, sit down honey. Aunty Bella is on her way; she’ll be here any minute,’ she said softly, rising to her feet and helping him into a chair next to hers.

  He collapsed his solid frame into the chair with a sigh, immediately reaching for his drink and draining it in one huge gulp. He looked at Regan.

  ‘Oh, please don’t look at me, I’m hideous!’ he squeaked, pulling his scarf up to cover his face.

  ‘What happened to you guys, anyway?’ Regan asked, his curiosity piqued. These two are quite interesting.

  Arella scowled. ‘We were attacked for asking too many questions about our friend; you know, the pretty one you would never forget.’

  He grinned.

  ‘Oh! I’m glad our ordeal is amusing you!’ she scoffed, crossing her arms and looking away.

  ‘Indeed, yes; but it’s not your ordeal that’s tickling my fancy.’

  Her eyes flew to meet his. His smile widened and a current began to drift through his eyes as he tried to lure her mind into submission. She broke the gaze and reached for her coke. He frowned.

  Eddie’s tall frame appeared from the shadows behind them.

  ‘Hey boss,’ his voice boomed over the table. ‘We gotta go to that meeting now; it’s time.’

  Arella’s brow’s lifted as she cranked her neck up at Eddie’s lanky figure. ‘Jesus, where did you come from?

  Eddie looked down at her disinterestedly. His black eyes swung back to Regan expectantly.

  Regan sighed irritably. And I was just getting started. He shot Arella a wink.

  ‘He’s gifted like that,’ he said, rising to his feet and adjusting his jacket.

  He nodded at Eddie and turned to the dark-haired woman.

  ‘I may be able to help you. I have a gift; I am able to find people that don’t want to be found – just ask Eddie,’ he beamed. His eyes became serious. ‘Call me when you’re ready.’ He slipped her a card and turned, taking a few strides before glancing back at her. He grinned. ‘You have an unforgettable face too.’

  Regan gazed down the tree lined upper-suburban street. Over-sized houses sat gallant and cryptic in front of vast manicured lawns and elaborately designed perimeters. Fancy street lights glowed like pots of honey every few meters apart, while glittering fairy lights stretched between them and danced among the tree tops. The scene was grand and mellow all at once; it almost felt illusory. The incessant bark of a dog broke through the magic of the street, reminding him why they had come here.

  He turned to Eddie. ‘Quaint little neighborhood,’ he murmured.

  Eddie grunted a reply and flicked his lit cigarette butt out of the car window.

  Regan tracked the orange sparks as they flitted over the road.

  ‘I’m sure they’ll appreciate that,’ he said.

  Eddie shrugged. ‘No more than they’d appreciate Zane Crais as their neighbor.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know.’ Regan eyed the colossal white house across the street. ‘Perhaps they are unaware of the probability their neighbor represents.’

  Eddie grinned. The gap between his crooked teeth loomed black and menacing under the dim lighting of the car. ‘So, let’s enlighten them, shall we?’

  Regan smiled as Eddie left the car. He watched in the rear-view mirror while he strolled to the car behind them and filled in the crew on their plan. It was simple really. He and Eddie would steal into the house while the others would keep a lookout in case Zane Crais managed to slip away. After an exhaustive two-day search, the crew had finally located Zane’s residence in this respectful Sydney district where it was reported he was laying low with his family.

  Eddie climbed back in beside him. ‘Okay, so he hasn’t left the house since he arrived, and he’s accompanied by a few heavies.’

  Regan sighed as he turned to get out of the car. ‘Ah, the heavies … there are always heavies.’ He smoothed back strands of hair that had escaped the hair tie at the nape of his neck, and turned toward the big house, his lips a grim line.

  Images of his wounded cousin played through his mind and tweaked at his emotions as he followed Eddie to the wrought iron fence that wrapped around the length of the house. He paused and gazed up at a set of white lion sculptures that perched in dignified stance either side of the gates. ‘Hmmm.’ His brows furrowed, and he pushed aside the sentimental feelings that simmered below the surface. He looked at Eddie. ‘Protection?’

  Eddie responded with a low cackle and proceeded to use a set of bolt cutters to release the thick chains that snaked around the gates.

  ‘They might reconsider their protection after tonight.’

  They slipped through the opened gap and crept toward the darkened house, using the shadows of the trees and shrubs in the front yard as a murky canvas. Eddie stopped suddenly and held up a hand to halt Regan behind him. His dark head cocked to one side while his other hand lingered over the switch blade at his waist as he listened. A low crunch sounded beside them, and Eddie swiveled around with lightning speed, the knife firmly slicing through the air in front hi
m.

  Regan caught sight of the mammoth figure as he emerged from the shrubbery and bulldozed his way toward them with grunting force. He took a casual step back as he watched the man lumber into Eddie. The switchblade that dug into the big man’s flesh did little to dissuade his intention, and only served to heighten his aggravation. The man gripped the end of the blade with a roar as he flung it aside. Regan saw the rage glinting in his dark eyes as he lunged for Eddie. The two men fell to the ground in a rumbling twist. The vast figure of Eddie’s attacker all but concealed him as the giant man struggled to contain the writhing body beneath him. A large balled fist lifted and slugged into Eddie’s face as he grappled to clutch a fistful of the man’s hair. The man growled as Eddie’s grip tightened. His fingers twisted at his neck as he pulled his head back, and with his other hand gouged his assailant’s eyes. The man gave a low grunt while his hands flew to protect his face. Eddie took the opportunity to coil his long thin body and roll out from beneath him. The man blinked while blindly lunging another blow toward Eddie, who easily dodged another pounding. He looked at Regan and grinned.

  Regan returned his grin and gestured to the bloody switchblade that had landed a few feet away from him. Eddie’s eyes found the blade. He gave Regan a fleeting nod as the man began to rise to his feet. He lunged for the knife and snatched it up. In a flash, he leaped up behind the man and caught him before he could find his footing. He smashed an elbow into the soft spot on the side of his skull, throwing him off balance. The big man made a slurring sound as he dropped to his knees. Eddie grabbed the crown of his thick hair, and harshly yanked him back. The bare skin of his throat appeared milky white and pearly between the silvery light of the trees. Eddie brought the knife to his throat in one swift action. Regan slipped away before he could witness the crimson stream soak the garden bed and the trees become splattered with the bittersweet taste of blood.

  As Regan snaked through the lush foliage, his stomach churned when he heard the unmistakable gurgle as Eddie sliced the man’s throat from ear to ear. He froze at the edge of the trees, scouring the house for telltale signs of awareness to their presence. The thick bed of fallen leaves squished quietly behind him with Eddie’s footsteps. He took a breath. The crisp night air blended with the overwhelming rusty scent of blood. His stomach clenched.