Soul Bite (The Eden Hunter Trilogy Book 3)

by D. N. Erikson

  I tumbled into the black sand, clutching her ruinous soul in my bloody fingers.

  It took me a moment to understand why Lucille had taken the knife.

  If I had wielded the blade, its power would have been too weak to end her life. That was why a mortal needed a god-killing blade like the Sword of Damocles to dispatch a deity.

  But a god could dispatch themselves.

  I laughed, staring up at the stars.

  Killing yourself so that your enemy might kill your worst enemy.

  That was true hatred.

  A rifle cocked, and my gaze focused on a man with a soldier’s buzz cut and matching five o’clock shadow.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Trying to lead Master Aldric into an ambush?”

  I tightened my grip on the soul’s jagged, swirling edges as he pulled me to my feet. “Where is he, anyway?”

  “Not here.” He jabbed me with the rifle. “Answer the question.”

  “Ambush? More like doing your job for you.”

  “Boss says you’re a pathological fucking liar.” This guy—clearly the leader, from his posture and take-no-shit demeanor—whistled to his troops. “Grab the two bodies. We’re heading out.”

  “Good doing business with you,” I said, rolling over to look up at the flaming remnants of my villa.

  All things considered, I’d take being homeless over being dead.

  “Commander Scott?” Another soldier—short, with a gap between his brilliantly white teeth—sprinted over, holding a phone to his ear. “Boss says he wants to speak with the woman.”

  “Give Miss Hunter the phone, then.”

  The cold device felt heavy in my hand as I brought it up to my ear. I decided to speak first. “It’s rude not to accept a gift in person.”

  “Had I done so, I would likely be dead, Eden.”

  I kicked at the sand deciding flattery was a better path than denial. “Oh, I doubt that. You held your own last time.”

  “Although I must admit that a dead goddess is a gift for the ages.” Cold rage ran through the words. “But even that will not save you from what comes next.”

  “And what’s that?” I asked, unable to help myself.

  “Solutions more permanent than our contract. See you soon.”

  The line went dead. I held the phone to my ear for a second longer, trying to stall.

  When I said nothing, the commander yanked the phone from my fingers and handed it back to the other man. “Time to leave, Miss Hunter.”

  “I’d rather stay, if it’s all the same to you.”

  “I’m sure you would.” The commander nudged me with his rifle. “But Master Aldric doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

  “I never knew that.” Lucille’s jagged soul cut into my palm as I tightened my fist.

  I couldn’t let the vampire have this much power. I could feel it buzzing in my hand.

  I gestured up the beach. “Well? Lead the way.”

  “Give me the goddess’s soul.”

  “It’s in her body.” I tried to turn around, but his strong hand caught my elbow and squeezed hard.

  Commander Scott’s face leaned into mine, filled with menace. “I’m not easily fooled.”

  “Good for you.”

  His grip tightened. “And I can see the fucking hole in her chest from the moon.”

  He twisted my arm just before it would’ve broken. I cried out in my pain, the soul slipping out of my fingers into the dark sand. Commander Scott threw me to the ground.

  He barely gave it a second glance as he picked it up—just pocketed it.

  “You have no idea what that can do.” I bit my lip, trying to distract myself from the razor blades seemingly shooting up my elbow.

  “It means a bonus.” The commander glared down at me. “And a happy boss.”

  “What about the world?” I asked as he prodded me with the rifle, urging me up the beach.

  “As long as I got a comfortable place, this whole shitpile can burn.”

  Smoke drifted on the languid winter breeze around us as the flames crackled up.

  I couldn’t help but think that it was a harbinger of what awaited me when I saw Aldric again.

  30

  The ride to Aldric’s headquarters proved hellishly long and torturously bumpy.

  I’d rid myself of one huge problem in Lucille, but I feared I’d created a far worse monster.

  An unchecked Aldric would quickly gain absolute control over the island.

  The only hope was the FBI. But they were dealing with a problematic demon infestation. And both Rayna and Kai—in their own ways—seemed strangely unmotivated to solve that particular problem in expedient fashion.

  Which meant the Bureau would fall, and Aldric would have the island all to himself. Just like when he’d established the first colony here all the way back in 552 AD.

  Best case scenario, a deranged Loki would show up to claim his slice of paradise.

  Truth be told, I saw only one future for Atheas at that moment: as a smoldering wreck, just like my villa.

  When Commander Scott pulled the ATV into the Black Sea Holdings parking lot, he turned back to me and said, “Time to reap the consequences of your actions, Miss Hunter.”

  His stony face suggested the play on words had been unintentional. He didn’t strike me as the witty type.

  The corporate skyscraper—thirty stories of glass and nondescript steel—loomed above like an angry sentinel, ready to punish me for my transgressions.

  “You’re not coming?” I asked as I stepped onto the asphalt.

  “Not this time.”

  “Then give me Lucille’s soul. I’ll deliver it to Aldric.”

  “I don’t think so.” The commander jerked his rifle toward the glass entrance. “Time’s wasting.”

  Without any other option, I headed across the lot and tapped in my keycode. The doors buzzed green, allowing me inside.

  My lonely footsteps echoed across the empty lobby.

  As I rode the elevator up, I felt like I was heading to the gallows.

  I’m going to die.

  Beep.

  Maybe I shouldn’t have texted Aldric.

  Beep.

  I could still try to run.

  As final thoughts went, they weren’t the most inspired.

  The elevator dinged, opening to reveal a two hundred-foot long hallway terminating in a pair of petrified oak doors. I stepped out and took a deep breath. Moonlight streamed down from the ceiling of pure glass.

  My sneakers squeaked across the polished floor. No one greeted me as I traversed the gauntlet.

  Eventually, I passed the waiting area, which featured conservative furniture—a glass table, leather sofa—and a copy of Aldric’s favorite book, Lord of the Flies.

  He was big on survival of the fittest.

  My fist trembled as I reached up to rap on the thick doors.

  Before I got the chance, his buxom assistant threw them open.

  Light glinted off her diamond studded belly button.

  “Master Aldric has been waiting.”

  “That can’t be comfortable.” Her boobs looked like they were trying to make a jailbreak from the tight band of fabric barely covering them.

  She looked me up and down dismissively. “Is it comfortable being forever ignored?”

  I glanced at the low-cut top—aggressively sexy by my standards. “Ooh. Burn.”

  Under other circumstances I might’ve been offended, but right now I was too damn scared to be concerned about appearances. Plus, I’d just fought with a rain goddess.

  Doubtful that anyone would come out the other end looking their best.

  “This look is utilitarian.” I headed into Aldric’s utilitarian office. Two leather chairs faced his desk. The curtains were open, offering a sweeping view of the city. A strip of theater-style LED lights ran along the teak floor.

  The vampire, however, was nowhere to be found.

&nb
sp; “Oh, honey,” the assistant said with an eye roll, “that look is tragic.”

  Maybe I could harvest her soul. Do the world one last favor before I died.

  My fingers were reaching for my pocket when the wall panel creaked open and Aldric stepped out. His eyes honed on me like little emerald laser beams.

  “You are cutting it close, Eden.” The vampire stepped into his office and the wall closed behind him.

  His assistant hurried over and whispered in his ear.

  The vampire’s always serious expression didn’t change.

  “Thank you, Meredith.” Each word was sharp as a razor.

  Meredith winked smugly before slipping out the office doors. They banged shut with a thunderous finality.

  Aldric trotted to his desk and sat down. “If you would, Eden.”

  He gestured to one of the chairs.

  “Do I have to?”

  His smooth hands tugged at his well-maintained beard, his hawkish eyes boring into me without blinking. The power of his soul overtook the room, drowning out my other senses.

  “No one can force you to do anything, it seems.” Aldric adjusted the cuff of his perfectly-tailored suit. “Even those things in your own best interest.”

  I shifted my weight between each leg, trying to remain cool.

  “You know, she doesn’t really look like a Meredith,” I said. “More like, oh, a Candy. Or a Raven. Something a stripper would—”

  “You tried to have me killed tonight, yes?” Aldric’s icy voice sliced through my ramblings.

  “No.” But the response came out as more of a question.

  Aldric didn’t move, which made him more terrifying. “Do you know how long it took to find a talented sorceress like Valeria?”

  “That seems like a minor grievance, given the circumstances.”

  A little voice in my head whispered not helping.

  “Nonetheless, executing a goddess and surviving the sorceress’s traps demonstrates what I saw in you all along.”

  “Thanks?” I tried to summon some bravado, but my voice was tiny, hollow.

  “A remarkable talent for self-preservation.” The words hovered in the air. “Alas, it is a waste.”

  I kept my mouth shut, certain at this point it would only get me in trouble.

  Aldric rushed from behind the desk in a blur. His hand wrapped around my throat and pinned me against the wall before I could draw another breath.

  My feet dangled off the ground as he held me there effortlessly.

  “And to think, I have invested so much in you.” His grip tightened. “Only to be repaid, time and again, in betrayal.”

  I kicked him in the thigh.

  I might as well have hit him with a feather.

  “Useless.”

  I tried to plead, but no air came out.

  “Your tongue cannot save you, Eden.”

  They say, right before you die, that your life flashes before your eyes. A tape of all your regrets and triumphs, blazing past in your final seconds. As someone who had died once before, I could confirm that it was bullshit.

  Because every ounce of your body is focused on one thing.

  Trying to live.

  With the last of my energy, I gasped out, “I can still be useful.”

  “A disloyal subject cannot be trusted with any task of importance.”

  “I’ll…be…loyal.” The thought was almost more painful than his grip.

  Realization flashed through his hawkish eyes.

  “I believe there is one way you can be.”

  “How?”

  His fangs popped out with a sharp click.

  Shit.

  And right before the world went dark, I felt them plunge right into my neck.

  31

  I awoke in a parking lot, between two dumpsters. The sunlight stung my skin, and my mouth felt like sandpaper.

  Newspapers rustled beneath my matted hair as I struggled to sit up.

  “Ow.” I touched my throbbing neck. It only took a second for my fingers to find the two little punctures.

  I remembered what had just happened, and my chest tightened.

  That motherfucker bit me.

  The least he could’ve done was let me sleep off his unwanted bite inside.

  Then again, I didn’t have a home anymore—and I doubted the vampire wanted to see my face hanging around his headquarters after I’d just tried to have him killed.

  Tried and failed.

  Miserably.

  “It’s going to be okay.” I rocked back and forth on the uneven asphalt, trying to keep myself from losing it. “You’ll be fine.”

  I couldn’t be turned, right? I’d been bitten before and dealt with nothing aside from a nasty infection. Reapers were immune to the transformative effects of werewolf and vampire bites.

  Right?

  I kept whispering to myself until a woman passed by on the sidewalk and shot me a funny look. She hurried away, heels clicking.

  A little dose of reality was enough to slow my racing mind. I staggered to my feet and checked my jeans.

  I still had my stuff: Sierra’s phone, my Reaper’s Switch, a few hundred bucks cash, and the list of demons. The Scent of Fire antidote, too—apparently it had no value to Aldric.

  I checked the phone. No messages, but the time—a little past six on Wednesday morning—meant I’d been out for about eight or nine hours.

  There was also a little slip of paper in my back pocket.

  I unfolded it, squinting to read the words in the bright light.

  You will not let me down again.

  It seemed like less of a request and more of a statement of fact.

  The ink was red. I realized that it was blood.

  Probably mine.

  I crumpled up the note and tossed it over my shoulder as I headed up the street. The sun was far brighter than I remembered. My skin seemed paler, too.

  I chalked it up to extreme fatigue.

  My next moves were limited. Aldric now had the goddess’s soul, and both Rayna and Kai seemed uninterested in my assistance.

  I had no home to return to—by now, the villa would be a pile of embers and ash. Hopefully Sierra was keeping herself scarce. I could head out to her house, but Aldric might have eyes on me.

  Running to her for help could lead the vampire right to her. As Lucille’s former Reaper, I doubted she would be granted amnesty as he worked to cleanse the island of his enemies.

  My body made the decision for me, everything feeling like it had been turned to lead.

  I slid the phone back into my pocket and spotted a flophouse motel across the street.

  Things were heating up.

  But I couldn’t think when I was running on empty. I hadn’t slept in an actual bed—or couch, as the situation had been—in two days.

  I dragged myself through the motel’s grim-streaked door. The proprietor barely gave me a second look as I dug out the requisite cash and pushed it through the barred window.

  The plan was to take a shower and short nap.

  But the instant I saw the sagging mattress, I knew that wouldn’t be the case.

  My eyes were closed before I even sat down.

  And I dreamt of nothing at all.

  32

  It was nighttime when I groggily rolled off the rough blanket and stumbled into the shower. Cold water dripped off my nose, stripping away a night’s worth of blood and sweat.

  Raking my tongue across my front teeth, I found two sharp little nubs starting to form.

  Fangs.

  The mildewed shower spun as I steadied myself against the slick wall. My mind darted from expletive to expletive, running the colorful gamut until I’d exhausted my vocabulary.

  Then it settled on reality.

  I was becoming a vampire.

  I stood there, cold water getting colder, soaking in that truth.

  Then I punched the faucet.

  My knuckles split open. But the fixture got the worst of it, hanging cock-eyed
off the tile.

  I must’ve been a little stronger, now, too.

  I finished scrubbing the grime off my body, then got out. A paler version of my face stared back at me from the cracked mirror.

  When I bared my teeth, I could see the beginnings of two sharp incisors.

  I shut my mouth quickly and pretended everything was normal as I toweled off.

  Much to my chagrin, that didn’t work.

  I padded out of the bathroom and stared at the clothes. They’d seemed clean in comparison to the sewer ravaged ones I’d worn for much of yesterday. But now I could see they stank of sweat, blood, and ash, from the trying battle with Lucille.

  No way was I wearing them again.

  So I took the three belongings to my name—phone, money clip, and Reaper’s Switch—and put them on the pock-marked nightstand.

  I scrolled through a slew of text messages from Sierra: hey, E, got a new phone. Where are you?

  Are you okay?

  Call me, E.

  I pressed send, and she picked up on the first ring.

  “E…is that really you?” Her voice was tentative. “Say something.”

  “Alive and not so well.”

  “What happened?”

  I sat on the bed, staring out the tiny window, and tried to think. “A lot.”

  “Did you…”

  I understood the question. and said, “Lucille’s dead. But there’s a bigger problem.”

  “How’s that?”

  I figured her in on the details: Aldric had the goddess’s soul. And the bite.

  “We can’t be turned.” Sierra exhaled sharply, refusing to believe it. “It’s impossible.”

  I headed to the bathroom, snapped a picture in the cracked mirror, and sent it off. “And yet, here we are.”

  “Are those…?”

  “My very own baby fangs.”

  “Holy shit, E, we gotta fix this.”

  But I knew our survival hinged on three things: finding Miesha, tracing Drake’s treasure map to the Sword of Damocles, and killing Aldric.

  The demon hunter could help purge the FBI. The deicide arcana infused Sword of Damocles would likely be my only shot at dispatching the 2,500 year-old vampire. And after I killed Aldric with that mythical oversized Reaper’s Switch, the island would need a stabilizing influence.