Tortured Souls (Broken Souls Book 2)

by Richard Hein

  I stuffed my hands inside my pockets and went to see what sort of damage Lockyer’s ritual had caused.

  My ride hadn’t been able to shut up about it. Had I seen the purple light, a beam so bright and tall it dwarfed all the buildings around? He’d pointed out it couldn’t have just been an enormous spotlight as it had collapsed in on itself and exploded outward, rolling for miles and miles like low-flying clouds. I’d tuned him out and sank lower into my chair.

  Inside the warehouse, I paused in front of the rear door. When opened, it should bridge the gap between universes. I had no idea what I would do if it opened on the back lot. My right hand swept up and tugged open the door.

  The twisted buildings and meandering road of Sanctuary greeted me.

  I wish I could say I felt something at the sight. Relief, maybe. Worry that the cycle would continue, and someone else trusting me would get hurt or killed.

  Or worse.

  I wondered at the damage done by Lockyer. Had Circe survived, and Simon caged like an animal in the queen’s alien realm? Had the Twins survived? Was Abezethibou still lurking in the darkness of Seattle?

  Did it even matter?

  My footfalls echoed into infinity as I strode back toward the abandoned buildings of what was once a bustling headquarters. The power was out. I hadn’t refilled the generators in days. Purchasing fuel had been out of the question. The plaza lay dark, lit only by the tumbling hunks of crystal singing in the dark sky above. It seemed more fitting this way. Before, the lights had given a semblance of life, pretending that a hundred people still worked here. Now it was as dark as a tomb.

  I swept past the upper level of cubicles and offices. Down the stairs to the library. The rows of beautiful wooden shelves yawned away in the darkness, the faint smell of wood smoke still lingering in the air. I fished out my cell and flicked it open, the tiny screen giving the barest hint of illumination.

  “Hello, Samuel.”

  I turned and saw the beam of a flashlight bouncing as someone approached from one of the side halls. Daniel. He held a banker’s box of leather-bound books against his chest while trying to clutch the light and keep it pointed in the right direction. Behind him stood Davis holding a similar box of books.

  “Kate is gone, Daniel,” I said at last. I rubbed at one temple with the palm of my hand, trying to rub away the ache that had been building there the last few hours. I couldn’t meet his eyes. “There was a… a thing with Lockyer, and she’s gone now. Pulled outside of the universe.”

  “I see,” Daniel whispered. “I’m sorry to hear that. She is… she was an asset to the profession, and an absolute joy to be around. She was a great person, Samuel.”

  “There’s a chance she’s still alive,” I said, slumping into a chair beside a heavy reading desk. I rubbed at my eyes, at the throb that had started just behind them. “I have no idea how to find her, but there’s a chance she wound up somewhere that would let her live.”

  “Samuel,” Daniel said.

  “No, I know. Infinity is a lot. But there’s a chance she’s alive. I… I don't know how to find her, but I’ve got to try, right? We’ve got to figure out a way… a… a method to home in on her. The OFC owes her that much.”

  “There is no Ordo any more,” Daniel said. His voice echoed in the darkened room, hot and angry. “You never…” He took a breath and stared hot daggers at me. “You don’t see it. You’re toxic, Samuel. Christina. Francis.” He paused, mouth twisting like he’d bitten something sour. “Kseniya. It’s done. It’s over. I’m taking what records I can and we’re leaving. The OFC will live on, but not with you.”

  I stared. “Sanctuary—”

  “Is just a place,” Daniel said, voice iron. “It’s only been the headquarters for the last hundred and fifty years. The Ordo existed for thousands of years before that. It will again. Somewhere else. Without you.”

  “Just like that,” I said, feeling numb. I gave a weak chuckle and shook my head. “You’re just going to up and leave.”

  “Yes,” Daniel said, “just like that. You destroyed everything, Samuel. You use magic. Everything and everyone is ruin because of you. I’ll rebuild.”

  I expected anger to bubble up within me. The heat of fiery indignation, of an argument, of anything.

  I felt nothing but cold emptiness.

  “Fine,” I said as I rose. “You should probably check the news, though. Everything is different now. I’m sure by now Lockyer is giving an exclusive from the hospital. Or, if there’s a just God, from Hell.”

  Without waiting for an answer, I turned and strode toward the stairs down to the third and final level with my office. Darkness enveloped me once more as his footfalls vanished behind me.

  The unusual geometry of the place meant that the third floor was somehow outside again. Faint starlight lit my path as I pushed open the door to my office.

  “I couldn’t stop him. I’m sorry.”

  I glanced up as I sank into my chair. The room was suddenly lit with a jaundiced yellow glow, held in the outstretched hand of Sanctuary. The Entity stood beside my door, clad in the same meticulous midnight-blue suit, face etched with worry.

  I dropped my elbows onto my desk and let my head fall into it.

  “It doesn’t matter,” I mumbled into my hands.

  “He’s a full member, you see. I’m not allowed to stop them because—”

  “I said it doesn’t matter,” I snapped, head rising. “It’s better this way. I never should have tried to keep things going after… after…”

  “It matters,” Sanctuary said. The light pulsed a little brighter. “The Long Night, Samuel. It’s coming.”

  I waved a dismissive hand. “I don’t care. Do you know anything that might help me find Kate?”

  Sanctuary’s face grew sad. “Unfortunately not.”

  “Then what good are you?” I snarled.

  Sanctuary regarded me for a moment, face devoid of emotion, then vanished.

  The room plunged back into darkness, leaving me alone and outside the universe.

  Where had I gone so wrong? What had I done to bring so much destruction to those around me? My mind struggled to wrap around it all and shattered, my thoughts blowing away like a million grains of sand before the wind.

  I’m sorry, Kate. I know that’s small comfort, wherever you might be, but I’m sorry.

  An hour or two passed as I sat there. Alone. Broken. Ashamed in the dark. It was too much to grasp. The enormity of everything that had happened in the last twelve hours set my brain to static.

  I rubbed at my eyes, trying to scrub the ache of a ruined life from them, and then stared around the room. The bottles of booze called with a promise they’d ease the pain. With one trembling hand I snatched up the closest and spun it so I could see the label. The liquid within sloshed as I shook.

  With a snarl of disgust I slung it across the room. It hit one of the cardboard boxes I kept all my worldly goods in and bounced off, hitting the chair and rolling back to the floor. The box teetered for a second and then tumbled, vomiting its contents out.

  I crossed the room and snatched up anything my hands could find, slamming things back into the box with enough force to tear it. I didn’t care.

  My hands froze, heart clenching. A dizzying wave rushed through me as my skin flushed slivery cold.

  A hand-bound leather journal.

  I turned it over in my hands once, feeling the smoothness of it. My thumb flicked open the first page, and I caught sight of Lauren’s familiar chicken-scratch.

  My fingers flicked through the pages until I came about halfway through. I flipped a few more, paused, and read. A little dagger of cold plunged through the numbness that had settled within me, growing with each passing word.

  March 13th

  Back from Florida. May God stretch forth His hand and strike that entire state from the country. I don’t know what was worse — the sheer mugginess of the air or Samuel Walker. One was sticky, obnoxious and in my face every moment
I was there; the other was shitty weather.

  I talked with Seneschal Francis this morning, the moment we got back into Sanctuary. He listened with that kind of arrogant air he always has, like he knows it is his job to listen to the peons prattle but, by God, he doesn’t have to like it! I told him I’d appreciate it if Samuel and I never worked a case together again. He informed me that’s not the first time he’s heard those exact words, and then smiled. I know he and Alissa got split up. I get the crazy impression that Samuel was paired with me because of the little incident last month in Cornwall. It’s not my fault the voltages are so different!

  Samuel, though. God. I have no desire to head back into the field with him watching my back. It’s likely to get stabbed full of little holes. Either that or something will explode because of him and my back will simply be burned off.

  Still, he’s fun, and that’s lacking with all the other crazies in the OFC. It’s not like I have a social life any more. Not the thing I want in a coworker when life is on the line, but I wouldn’t mind going out for drinks if I can be sure we never work together again.

  Or… maybe truck tacos.

  I stared, a cold realization creeping through me. Lauren — the Lauren in my head, that is — had told me I’d find something like this. I’d never read the journal before. I had no way of knowing what was written in there, so some random entity claiming to be my dead ex-girlfriend couldn’t have plucked that information from my mind.

  I slid back into my chair and stared at the journal in my hand.

  It was Lauren. God above, it was her. My throat constricted, my heart lurching into a drunken, staggering beat.

  Numb, I rose. I didn’t need light to navigate my office. I found the little rolling cart beside my desk and plucked up a bottle at random. I worked out the cork and drank, savoring the feel of the alcohol burning as it went down. The bottle sloshed happily as I slipped back into my chair.

  I drank, alone in two separate universes.

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