Soul Catchers

by Carrie Pulkinen

Michael sighs and rubs his hand across his forehead. “I don’t want to kill either of you. And I healed him to show you . . . to prove to you we aren’t bad people here. That I’m not a bad person. Everything I do is for the greater good.”

  “Oh, so murdering thousands of people benefits the greater good now? Torturing innocent people whose only crime was to exist is for the greater good? Turning people into monsters is supposed to help make the world a better place?” I’m so livid I’m shaking.

  Liam slips his hand under my shirt, his skin warming my back. He’s trying to ground me, to keep the fury at bay, but I’m on a roll, and Makka is breaking through.

  My father stands and paces around his desk. “I didn’t make the wolves. I’m trying to cure them.”

  “But you don’t have a cure, do you? You keep them locked up and drugged so you can experiment on them, don’t you?” A growl rumbles in my chest, and the urge to lash out is overwhelming.

  Liam must sense what’s coming because he presses harder into my back. The growl grows louder, my father’s eyes grow wider, and searing heat flashes on my skin. I yelp and jump away, prepared to punch Liam in the face for burning me, but all the anger drains away.

  His brow furrows in concern. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I needed it.” I wish there were another way for him to snap me out of these Makka trances, though. Ouch.

  He presses his hand on the wound and takes away the pain. I suck in a shaky breath and turn to face my father.

  “What just happened there?” He leans back against the desk, his hand hovering over the remote for the sedatives. His gaze darts from me to Liam to the door.

  “You tell me. You study the wolves. Why can the wolf break through during the day?”

  Michael slides around his desk, never turning his back to me, and punches something into his computer. “I’ve never seen that happen before. The wolves can’t control you when you’re in human form.”

  “Yeah, well, Makkapitew can.”

  “Makkapitew.” The name comes out in a revered whisper as his fingers clack across the keyboard. “You have Makkapitew.”

  “More like he has me.” I lower myself into a chair and hold on to Liam’s hand. He stands protectively behind me and rests his other hand on my shoulder, his thumb rubbing circles around the implanted device.

  My father leans over his computer, devouring everything on the screen, nodding his head, and mumbling under his breath. “No wonder this wolf has been so hard to catch.” He looks at me. “Makkapitew is the strongest wolf spirit in existence. It was a miracle my grandfather was able to capture it at all.”

  “Your grandfather? So monster making runs in the family?”

  “My grandfather was on the team that created the wolves, yes.” He waves his hand in the air as if dismissing the question. “But how do you know your wolf’s name? No one else does.”

  “Liam told me.”

  He focuses on Liam, his expression expectant.

  Liam squeezes my hand. “He . . . told me, I suppose. When I looked at his soul, the name just popped into my mind.”

  “Fascinating.”

  A knock sounds on the door, and Seth enters, pushing an enforcer in a wheelchair. Blood seeps through a bandage on the man’s leg, and he glowers at us as Seth wheels him in.

  “Oh, excellent.” My father jumps up, clutching the remote, and approaches the injured man. “This is the perfect opportunity for you to demonstrate your healing ability, Mr. Stevens.”

  My hands ball into fists. “We aren’t here for your entertainment.”

  “No, but I think your friend might appreciate the chance to right a wrong.”

  Liam sighs and shuffles toward the enforcer. “He’s right. I had to shoot him last night when I was trying to rescue you.” He looks at the man. “I said I was sorry, though.”

  “Sorry? You blew my damn kneecap off.” He grabs a fistful of Liam’s shirt and yanks him down, pinning him in a headlock. Liam’s face turns tomato red as the guy squeezes his neck, cutting off his circulation.

  “Stop! Enough of that!” my father shouts, but he keeps his distance. Seth takes a step back, crossing his arms over his chest, his face expressionless.

  Liam’s face turns purple as he struggles against the enforcer’s grip, and the scene awakens Makka like a fiery inferno raging through my limbs. With my mind, I yank the wheelchair out from under the man, sending them both toppling to the ground. The enforcer screams, gripping his injured leg, and Liam rolls away, coughing.

  I hover the metal chair above the man’s head, every muscle in my body screaming at me to slam it down on him. Makka’s rage is fueling my actions, and I fight to regain control. Seth grabs the chair, grunting as he tries to pull it down, but it won’t budge. My power is too strong.

  Liam lies on the floor, heaving breaths as he tries to recover. Seth stands behind the moaning enforcer, refusing to let go of the chair. My father is pressed against a far wall as he flips open the remote and punches a button.

  My shoulders relax, my arms dropping to my sides as the sedative releases into my bloodstream. I lose my grip on the chair, and Seth tumbles backward into the wall. My eyelids droop, and my legs give out. I sink to the floor as a sense of total relaxation washes over me. I’m still conscious, but if I close my eyes, I’ll be asleep in seconds.

  My father steps away from the wall, his confidence restored now that I’m subdued, and rights the fallen wheelchair. He offers Liam a hand and pulls him to his feet.

  “Help him up,” he says to Seth as he points to the man on the floor.

  He seems calm as he approaches me. “I’ve seen a lot worse than this,” he says as if reading my mind. “I administered the smallest dose this time, just enough to subdue you. Next time, I won’t be so generous.” He lifts me into the chair and turns it to face the other men.

  “Are you boys ready to cooperate?”

  “Yes, sir.” The injured man groans, but he allows Liam to approach.

  Liam unwraps the blood-soaked bandage and cringes at the wound. “You left him like this all night?”

  My eyelids flutter, so I pinch my arm hard to wake myself up.

  “Of course,” Michael says. “How else could you demonstrate your healing abilities? Don’t worry, I gave him something for the pain.”

  “Looks like it wore off.” Liam turns the leg, and the man shouts. “I’m sorry, dude. It’s going to be a lot worse before it gets better. The bullet’s lodged in your bone.” He turns to my father. “You got some tweezers or something I can grip it with?”

  Michael opens a cabinet and produces a small black bag. Liam rummages through it and pulls out a five-inch-long set of tweezers. He spreads the wound open, and my stomach lurches at the sight of fresh blood spilling over the man’s leg. When he inserts the instrument into the wound, I have to look away. The man’s moans barely mask the squishing sound the bullet makes when Liam removes it.

  He lets out a breath. “Now for the easy part.”

  My father’s mouth drops open in astonishment as Liam heals the wound. “The fibers . . . they’re stitching themselves back together. The tendons are reconnecting. The skin is—”

  “Thanks for the play-by-play,” Liam says.

  “Fascinating.”

  He shrugs. “It’s what I do.”

  The man opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. He tentatively touches his leg, tracing his kneecap with his fingers. Bending and flexing his leg, he lets out an amazed laugh.

  “You can take him away now,” Michael says to Seth.

  “No, no. I can walk.” He rises to his feet and bounces up and down. “It’s completely healed!”

  I can’t help but smile at his wonder. I was just as amazed the first time Liam healed me. Liam is amazing.

  The man bounces a few more times and strides out the door, and Seth stands at attention like he’s awaiting his next orders.

  “You’re dismissed, soldier,” my father says. “I’ll arrange a tra
nsport for you in the morning.”

  “A transport? No. Why?” His gaze flicks from me to Liam before landing on my father.

  “You’ve done all you can do here. It’s time for you to go home.”

  Seth’s eyes narrow, and his jaw clenches. He’s obviously not happy he’s being sent home, though I have no idea why he’d want to stay. He looks at Liam again, then at me, his eyes softening when they meet mine.

  “We’ll be going home too, then.” The sedative is wearing off, and I’m able to stand again, though I hold on to the back of the chair for support. Liam puts a hand on my elbow to steady me.

  “I’m afraid I can’t let you two leave,” my father says.

  “Why not?”

  “The president has been searching for a pair of Soul Catchers for years. He—” Michael looks at Seth. “Why are you still here? I said you’re dismissed.”

  Seth inhales deeply, expanding his chest like he wants to protest. Instead, he blows out a hard breath, turns on his heel, and marches out the door.

  “Why does the president want Soul Catchers?” I say. “I thought he wanted to wipe out the Sense entirely; now you’re saying he wants to use it? Are you going to turn us over to him?”

  My father returns to his chair and stares at his hands folded on the desk. “Your particular . . . talents are of great interest to Martin. But I honestly don’t know what I’m going to do with you. You’re my daughter, and that complicates things.” He doesn’t raise his eyes.

  “Oh? I’m sorry to make your life difficult. What? Human lives suddenly matter to you?”

  He finally looks at me, holding me with his stoic gaze. “Family has always been important to me. Your mother—”

  My fingernails dig into the back of the chair. “Don’t bring Mom into this. She wasn’t important to you. She was just your nightly entertainment on that leg of your mission.”

  “Wren, I did care about her. I loved her.”

  “No, you didn’t. You didn’t, because you left her there to die. I read her journal. Her talents weren’t impressive enough for you, so you left her there to be murdered with all the other infected people.” Tears sting my eyes, but I will not let them fall. I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry.

  “Your mother didn’t die, though. Did she?”

  Liam squeezes my arm—a reminder to stay in control. My father’s thumb rests on the button that could render me unconscious.

  I suck in a shaky breath. “She got away.”

  He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “And how do you think she got away?”

  “I . . . I don’t know. She never told me.”

  “Everyone with the Sense was registered. The soldiers went to the community with a list of people to exterminate, but your mother’s name wasn’t on that list. Do you know why?”

  I shake my head.

  “Her name wasn’t on that list because I took it off. I erased her powers from the registry because I loved her. I saved her.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Liam

  “I’m a good person,” Michael says. “Look. I fixed your friend’s face, and we do a lot more good here than that.”

  Wren clutches my hand and squeezes it so tightly I’m afraid my bones will break. “There was nothing wrong with Liam’s face.”

  That’s sweet of her to say. I can’t help but laugh, though. “Well, technically, he did remove a giant ugly scar. I’d call that fixing it.”

  Tearing her glaring gaze away from her dad, she looks at me and trails her fingers down the side of my face. I shiver at the intimacy of her touch. “Honestly, I hardly noticed it anymore. He may have smoothed your skin, but he didn’t change anything important.” She rests her hand over my heart and taps her fingers on my chest.

  A lump forms in my throat, and I swallow it down. If we weren’t standing in front of her dad, I swear I’d kiss her again. Still, I can’t fight the smile that tugs at my lips or the sprint of my heart. Just being near her makes my head spin.

  “Come with me.” Michael steps around his desk and motions for us to follow him out the door.

  Wren gives my hand a squeeze—gentler this time—before letting go and following her father. She glances left and right at the doorway, and I can practically see the gears turning in her head. She’s playing along, but she’s not about to give in.

  As if reading her mind, Michael turns around and says, “Security is tight. You’d never make it off this floor, much less out of the compound.” He holds up his little remote control and continues walking.

  “Where are you taking us?” Wren stops and refuses to step through the door he opened. “What is this place?”

  He opens the door wider and motions for us to go inside. “It’s the viewing room.”

  Wren hesitates, so I take her hand and lead her through the threshold. Seth sits in a big leather chair behind a computer monitor, and his eyes go wide as silver dollars when he sees us walk in. He punches a few buttons on the keyboard and pushes back from the desk.

  “What are you doing in here?” Michael’s voice sounds more irritated than angry.

  Seth stands and pushes in the chair. “I was, uh . . . trying to access my email. But the computer’s locked with a password.”

  “Of course it’s locked. You’re in a classified facility. Go wait in the soldiers’ quarters until your transport arrives tomorrow.”

  Seth huffs. “Yeah. Okay.” He brushes past me, intentionally shoving me with his barrel of a chest. I’m sure he’s waiting for me to give him a reason to hit me, so I just step aside and let him pass. Only he doesn’t pass. He stands toe to toe and glares daggers at me. “A word, Stevens?”

  I raise my eyebrows and return his icy gaze, but I have to admit, he’s intimidating. The dude’s at least four inches taller than me and twice as big around.

  Wren grabs my arm. “Liam, don’t.”

  I pat her hand and pull away. “It’s okay. I’ll be right outside.” If he’s got something to say to me, I’d rather it not be in front of Wren. She’s been through enough already.

  I step through the door and pull it shut behind me. Seth stomps down the hall and stops a few yards away. I suppose he doesn’t want Wren to hear what he has to say either. His fists clench and unclench at his sides before he rests his right hand on his holstered gun. His size alone is intimidating enough. There’s no need for a macho-man act, but I don’t dare tell him that. Bullets are faster than fire.

  “Your Soul Catcher story is a bunch of mythical malarkey, and I’m not buying it.” His voice seethes with anger.

  I just shrug and look him in the eyes. “The Sense is real whether you believe in it or not.”

  He grinds his teeth, and a vein pulses on the side of his neck. “Crane may think you’re fascinating, but I know the truth. You’re nothing more than a dead kid who couldn’t save his mommy from the Big Bad Wolf.”

  A familiar fist of pain squeezes my heart. I’m trying to stay civil with this guy, but if he’s gonna bring my mom into it, the gloves are coming off. “You best not run your mouth around subjects you know nothing about.”

  He straightens his spine and takes his hand off his gun. “You’re right. That was out of line.”

  “Damn right it was.” I turn and head back to the viewing room.

  “What’s your business with Wren?”

  I stop and slowly turn around. He has a pained look in his eyes that I’d almost be willing to call guilt if I didn’t know any better. But with the amount of testosterone this guy’s got running through his veins, I doubt he even knows how to feel an emotion like that.

  “I don’t think my business is any of your business, but I’m trying to help her. What’s it matter to you?”

  “She’s my girlfriend. Of course it matters.”

  I have to laugh at that. “Man, I think you lost the privilege of calling her that the day you cuffed her and threw her in a squad car.”

  He grinds his teeth, and that vein in his neck th
robs again.

  “If you care so much about her, why’d you turn her in in the first place?”

  He clenches his fists. “I have my reasons.”

  “Well, I hope they’re good ones because it’s safe to say she’s done with you.” And I’m done with him too. I turn on my heel and head to the viewing room.

  “I don’t want to see her get hurt.”

  I open the door and turn to face him one last time. “And I am doing everything in my power to make sure she doesn’t.” The door falls shut behind me as I walk into the room.

  Wren glances up from the monitors and locks her deep, dark eyes with mine. “What did he want?”

  “Nothing important.” I step closer to her and wrap my arm around her shoulders, and I see what she’s been looking at.

  Sixteen wide-screen televisions line the walls of the viewing room and display grids of images. Each image shows the inside of a cell where an experiment resides. With a tap of the screen, an image can be enlarged for better viewing. One rectangle is black. I point to it.

  “That Wren’s room?”

  She ducks her head, and a pretty shade of pink flushes her cheeks. “I broke the camera.”

  I lean down to whisper in her ear. “I don’t blame you. I wouldn’t want people watching me all night either.”

  She clears her throat and glances at her dad. “Michael was just showing me where we’ll end up if we don’t cooperate.” She points to the images of people sitting in their cells.

  I chuckle. “Oh, I’m sure the president’s got something much more exciting planned for the Soul Catchers.”

  Michael taps a pencil on the desk and shakes his head. “He doesn’t know you’re here, and he’s not going to until I decide what to do.”

  She stares at the monitors and sucks in a shaky breath. “Anything would be better than being locked up like that for the rest of my life.”

  “Believe me, I know Martin,” he says. “Living the rest of your life in one of those cells is a far better option.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Wren

  “You can’t keep us here forever.” I clutch the bars of my cell and glare at my father.