Torn Souls (Soul Ties Book 2)

by LJ Swallow

  “Keir explained the situation,” says Asher, “but I'm not sure what we can do to help.”

  “Can he be returned?” asks Keir.

  “Returned?”

  “To being human.”

  Eli's screws his face up. “Since when did a demon infected human ever regain their humanity, Keir?”

  “I don't know. That's why I'm asking.”

  They regard each other, silence edging towards conflict.

  Asher interrupts. “He’s Jack’s body with Jack’s soul. Vampires aren't like other demons; they are created by infecting living humans.”

  “But I'm still a demon,” says Jack.

  “Not entirely,” Asher says. “Vampires are stronger than normal demons, and the Elders are as old as the Demon Lords. Plus most created vampires have chosen the path; their human nature already held the evil intent required to make a... successful vampire. A forced creation such as you is unusual.”

  “When we kill vampires, I free the soul from corruption as with any other demon. But Asher is right, they aren't created by the Demon Lords in the same way as most demons are. They're stronger and a race of their own. That's why I wonder if you can be changed back,” says Keir.

  Eli snorts. “How exactly? His whole genetic makeup has changed. He might live, breathe, and walk the streets like a human, but his body is not human. Nor is his nature.”

  “But he's Jack,” I blurt, and everyone stares at me. “He is. I know he is. And human Jack was a good person. I never saw anything in him but love and respect for everyone around him.”

  Jack shifts in his seat and turns his head to the window. The afternoon sun fills the room with warmth, but I'm cold inside.

  Eli places his hands on his lap. “But you'd say that, wouldn't you? You're soul tied.”

  “What?” Jack sits forward. “What's soul tied?”

  I glance at Keir; he explained this month’s ago, and the concept brought everything into sharp focus. This is the explanation of why I chose to be with Jack.

  Keir turns to Jack. “The concept is complicated, but basically your souls were once free in the universe, and they knew each other before they were ever contained in bodies. Now one soul is in you, the other in Dahlia, and they want to be together again. The need for the souls to reconnect overrides everything between two beings—time, distance.” He pauses. “Or if you're enemies.”

  Jack rubs his face with both hands and glances over to me. “The dreams. Us. Everything. Because of this soul-tie thing?”

  I want to touch him. Desperately. “And why I'm fighting for you, Jack. That soul connected to me is still inside you, and so is the Jack I love.”

  Eli slumps back. “I have no idea how we could change him. We can find more about the vampire society, see if there are any who are more in touch with their humanity who he could live with. But we can't change him. I'm sure of that.”

  Asher approaches Jack and puts a hand on his shoulder. Jack jerks, eyes widening in alarm as Asher withdraws his hand.

  Asher turns back to Keir. “He's dying.”

  I can't control this anymore. A sob escapes my throat. They're wrong. Vampire Jack is dying; my Jack is in there still.

  “When did you last feed, Jack?” asks Asher.

  “I don't remember.”

  Asher inhales sharply and turns to Eli. “Are you prepared to help him?”

  Eli's frowning face grows harder and Keir leans forward. “You have to help him. I am responsible for this. We are responsible for this.”

  “To help him, we need to aid him in staying alive!” says Eli in horror. “Would you sacrifice a human life?”

  Keir sinks back and pushes a hand through his hair. “I don't know. Is there another way?”

  “I can wait.” Jack's voice is small, scared. “Until you discover if you can help me.”

  In surprise, I snap my head around to him. This is the first time Jack has spoken about surviving, and the tiniest hope sparks inside.

  “I'm not comfortable with this. He's hungry and starving his body. However human you think he is, Dahlia, his primal side will keep him alive,” says Asher sternly.

  “Exactly. We can't let him back into the world in this half-starved state,” snaps Eli.

  “I'm watching him,” replies Keir. “We all are.”

  “Twenty-four hours a day?”

  “Almost. Between us.”

  “You leave this girl alone with him? You're insane!” Eli shakes his head at Keir.

  “I won't hurt her,” whispers Jack, not looking at me. The spark of hope ignites into a flame.

  He finally admitted he cares.

  JACK

  I say what Dahlia wants to hear; what they all expect me to say, because I don't want to stay in the room with the Nephilim. In their freakish blue eyes, I see how much they hate me, and I read the same emotion on their faces. They don't look at Keir or Dahlia with the revulsion they do me. The Nephilim have no hope of helping with my “problem”; this is obvious. I'm not sure they even want to.

  The conversation soon switches to Ava, where she is, and what she's doing. This is obviously of greater concern than a half-dead vampire. I sink back into the sofa, close my eyes, and disconnect. The awareness of Dahlia’s closeness is heightened by this, so I reopen my eyes and stare at the patterned carpet, counting the circles to push out the nagging thirst.

  We return to the hotel, and leave Keir to his friends.

  “Does this help?” Dahlia asks, closing the hotel room door behind her.

  “Does what help?”

  “Hearing there's maybe an answer.”

  I shake my head at her. “I don't believe there is.”

  The brightness in Dahlia's eyes leaves; her recent happiness wiped away. “But you said...”

  Sitting on the bed, I tip my head, study her, and try to reconnect in my mind to the Jack who loves Dahlia. “This soul tie. Why didn't you mention it before?”

  “Because you don't want to accept anything apart from the fact you're a killing machine. Well, you're not, and you need to start accepting that.” Dahlia crosses the room, stands close, almost touching my knee. I hold my breath against her scent, willing her away from me. “They say you're dying, but this is killing me too, Jack”

  My dark heart pushes against my chest. I’m desperate to touch her face, comfort her. No, desperate to feed on her. “What do you mean?”

  “I still love you, and you won't let me help. Let me in.”

  “I don't feel anything.”

  “That's not true.”

  Dahlia edges closer, and I recoil. Ignoring this, she pushes my fringe from my eyes, the way she did all those months ago when we stood outside the bar in the Student Union. When Dahlia was the supernatural creature, not me. The effect is the same, shooting electricity underneath my skin and awakening need inside me.

  But this physical craving is intermingled with the desire to consume her blood. I noisily catch my breath, and Dahlia misreads my reaction. She steps closer, rests her legs against mine, and her scent reaches me, the human scent I've fought against inhaling by keeping her at a distance. In my human past, her fresh Dahlia smell drove my need to kiss her skin, and now Dahlia’s human blood sings to my demon as it pulses through her veins.

  Oh my god, I'm a bloody Twilight cliché. I hated those movies and now look at me.

  Dahlia takes my stunned attempt not to rip her throat out as encouragement, and she bends towards me, brown hair brushing my face.

  “Dahlia!” I scream and push her. She lands backwards on the floor, almost hitting her head on the corner of the small, wooden table.

  Dahlia's eyes moisten with tears before her face takes on a mask of angry hurt.

  “Shit, sorry, I didn't mean to... I did that because I don't want to hurt you.” I stand and move towards her, but I can't reach out to help her up. I can't touch her bare skin; I don't know what I might do.

  “You want to feed on me, don't you?” she says hoarsely.

  I st
are, unable to reply.

  “You said you wouldn't hurt me.”

  “I don't want to. I want to be your Jack, hold you, and be the person from last year. But I'm not him. I keep telling you—I'm a demon.”

  Dahlia gulps in air and pulls herself to her feet. “I'm so fucking stupid...” She pushes both hands into her hair and grips.

  What the fuck do I say?

  “I can't stay here...” Dahlia pulls open the door and stumbles out.

  I stand in the middle of the hotel room and stare after her. The door is open. I'm alone. And, deep inside, the gnawing hunger floods into my system.

  I wait for a few minutes, listen, expecting Dahlia's footsteps to return. Noises travel along the halls and through the walls; my heightened hearing filters conversations, searching for her voice. Nothing. My heart hammers, and the two parts of Jack battle painfully in my mind.

  Human Jack is edged out, reason pushed aside by the recent overwhelming scent of Dahlia’s blood and the opportunity to walk out of this room and feed.

  Digging my nails into my palms, I pace the room, fighting down the evil awakened in me. The laptop catches my eye, but my muscles are coiled so tightly I don't think I could sit to distract myself.

  I recognise the signs. I've been here before. And I know how this ends.

  26

  JACK

  How long do I have before Dahlia returns? I glance at the clock—six p.m. An English winter's evening shrouds the sky, and with it comes darkness. My humanity shuts down; memories of past kills cloud my mind. Dahlia’s Jack slips away from me as I leave the room, and I clutch onto him.

  I don't remember how I find my way out of the hotel; I'm dizzy by the time I reach the street. A middle-aged businessman entering veers around me as I lurch past and his eyes narrow suspiciously. In my current state, I probably look like drug addict. I inhale deeply, clearing the cloying scent of the people in the hotel from my mind. At least, now I'm outside, the smell of their blood mingles with traffic, refuse and the everyday. This is what kept the hunger away before, on my supervised trips with Dahlia or Keir. Anger stabs; they treat me like a child.

  I attempt to fight down the dark emotions; Jack's leaving me and I'm grasping at him to stay. Every footstep away from the hotel room pushes me towards the atrocities I know I’ll commit.

  They should've killed me. I rest against a wall between two shops, attempting to reconnect with Dahlia's Jack. I summon images of her and my human past, but they won't stick. Curious passersby watch me through the dimming evening, and I look at the ground, holding my breath. Rain drizzles from the sky, invigorating the scents from those around me.

  I have to leave here.

  Disorientated, I stumble down the street. There's a vague memory of a park in walking distance. I control my desire to run, knowing the speed my demon self wants to move at would freak people out. Maybe I should freak people out, and then they can back off—back off to the other side of the city.

  The pressure in my head becomes unbearable, as the last vestiges of Jack are pushed out, and all that remains is the vampire who hides from humans in the park and waits for victims.

  In the centre of the park, as far from the path as possible, I wait. Evening falls away to night, the shadows of the tree I'm behind disappear into blackness.

  The strong scent of a male life force drifts from the distant path and towards my hiding place. A group of students pass by, but I know I'm nowhere near strong enough to take on more than one. Not in this half-starved condition.

  Next, I smell a human girl, and my body tenses with hunger. Oh god, please don't let her be alone. She approaches and I'm ready, even though Dahlia's Jack is screaming at demon Jack to stop. A second, male voice calls out and footsteps run towards her. I sink back, relieved and frustrated.

  No one passes for a few minutes, and the longer I wait, the harder Dahlia's Jack finds it to push back inside my head.

  If I kill, Keir might end my life; maybe one more sacrifice is worth it.

  The scent reaches me before the footsteps, and my keen hearing indicates this male is definitely alone.

  There's nothing to fight anymore. This will happen.

  As the man passes, I step out of the darkness like something from a bad horror movie. The man's head is bowed, a scarf wrapped around his head, hands pushed into a long coat. The student sidesteps me; and when he looks up, his heart rate increases. He opens his mouth to speak, and I clamp my hand across his face, then drag him into the space behind the trees. My strength is greater than I think, he can't move against my grip. I don't want to look at him and I close my eyes, but this makes things worse. Without sight, the sound and smell of his blood intensifies.

  At least this isn't Dahlia.

  Blood pours from his neck into my mouth as I rip the skin on his throat and sever his jugular with my teeth. A gargled scream escapes him, but I don't hear. All I can hear is the sweet sound of his life pumping into my body, relieving the thirst I've carried for weeks. The man's struggle doesn't last long, and I grip him, keep him upright as the blood flows. Each cell in my half-dead body fills with life, the blood sending relief and pleasure through.

  Two hands clasp my shoulders from behind, and in surprise, I release my grip. The man falls from my arms and sinks to the ground as someone drags me violently backwards. I land on my back next to my victim. I look up and time stops for a moment as Keir's eyes meet mine, the horror on his face quickly replaced by dark anger. Leaning down, he grabs me by my coat and throws me across the grass. I slam into the trunk of a nearby tree and slump to the ground again. Keir marches over, and I ready myself for his attack and the death I crave.

  “Fuck, Jack! What the hell have you done?” he shouts.

  Dahlia's Jack sneaks back in as I struggle to sit, wiping my mouth. My hand shakes as I look with revulsion at the blood smearing my arm. “I couldn't help it.”

  I sound like a whiny child, caught stealing chocolate. Keir grabs me again and slams me repeatedly against the tree, swearing repeatedly before dropping me to the ground. Then he grabs his hair in two fists, pauses for a few moments, and stares into the shadows.

  “Stay there!” he growls, pulling himself from his reverie.

  The warmth from the blood courses through my veins, extending to my bruised body and numbing the pain. For the first time in weeks I feel alive and happy again, even if I could be about to die at Keir's hands. Keir squats next to the broken figure on the ground, but through the darkness, I've no idea what Keir is doing. He stands and returns.

  “Feel better now?” he spits.

  “Is he dead?” asks Dahlia's Jack.

  “You tore his throat and drank his blood! Now he's bleeding out the rest, and there's nothing I can do!”

  I should be revolted, but I feel no guilt; that comes later. The guilt always overwhelms me.

  Keir drags me to my feet again and pulls me towards him, hand curled into a fist around my shirt. “You do not say anything to Dahlia about this.”

  I blink at him. “Surely now you want to kill me?”

  “I made a promise to Dahlia.”

  I slump against the tree, shirt ripping when I pull back from Keir. Dahlia's Jack pushes out the death-bringing demon as the blood calms my system. “I had control... until... she left me alone, Keir. I'm sorry.”

  Dropping his hold, Keir steps back, arms by his sides. “I thought we had this under control. And she shouldn't have left you but... shit, Jack. You fucking killed someone.”

  But I feel so good. So much better. The darkness is brighter, the world a better place. As long as I forget the man lying dead under a tree.

  Keir folds his arms over his chest and cocks his head. “Okay, no one's around. Go.” He grabs me again, shoves me towards the path.

  “Go where?”

  “The hotel. Then we checkout and leave the place. You can't stay there alone anymore; I was fucking stupid to trust you. You're still a demon.”

  Gripping my arm, Keir drags me a
long, at a pace not quite human. I hang back. “Don't draw attention, slow down.”

  “For something that just murdered someone, I think that's a bit fucking hypocritical.”

  But he slows anyway.

  DAHLIA

  Something happened with Jack, but no one will tell me what. Partly because I'm too scared to ask. Jack isn't staying in the hotel anymore; he's moved to live with Eli and Asher. This surprises me because despite Eli's offer to help, he was adamant Jack had to keep away from them. For days, Keir tells me Jack's too sick to see anyone and is resting in their basement.

  They must think I'm an idiot.

  Now Jack's in the kitchen with me, sitting at the table. We're alone and rain pelts the window, the gloomy weather darkening the mood further. All I can focus on is Jack's eyes. Because they're Jack's eyes again, the same bright brown they once were, and his white skin has a new, pearlescent sheen. The biggest giveaway of all is he's sitting closer than he ever has since he came back.

  “Who did you kill?” I ask.

  Jack stiffens and fear crosses his face, eyes shifting to the floor. Confirmation. “No one.”

  I sink back against the hard wood of the dining chair. “Don't lie.”

  “It's true.”

  “Then why do you look...” I flick my fingers at him. “Better.”

  Jack shifts in his seat and clears his throat. “Keir found me some blood.”

  “Really?”

  The rain slams the window, and I want to run outside into the storm and let the accompanying wind blow the horror from my mind. Jack doesn't respond.

  Keir walks in and I snort. Saved by the bell. “Jack said you found him some blood.”

  Keir doesn't look at Jack, and I watch carefully for signs he's lying. “Yes, but I can't do it often. It's not the answer.”

  “Where from?” I press.

  “Does it matter?” asks Keir.