by TW Knight
"This is going to sound weird, but I've had this reoccurring dream since I was a kid, and—"
Bass burst out laughing. "You think I'm your dream lover!"
Anger flaring, Breanna turned to leave. Hand on the door, she stopped. "No. I'm not giving you the satisfaction of making me run." Eyes blazing, she faced him. "You are at least going to listen to me."
"Fine. Tell me a story."
She let out a breath and took a step forward. "As long as I can remember, I've dreamed about a man on a horse rescuing me from monsters. It was always a bit fuzzy, but I knew what was happening. After the attack on my parents..." She swallowed. "I didn't sleep for almost a week after that. Sam and I were afraid to go to sleep or sleep alone."
His heart stuttered like an old car engine. He wanted to hold her, tell her it was all in the past, but held back. He had to make her hate him if they were going to survive living together.
"The dream changed after that. I guess because I was sleep deprived or something. It became so real, so clear. All except for the face of the rider. But every time it was a nightmare. I could smell the trees and the fire. I could feel the damp air on my skin. I could hear the people screaming and the sounds of their deaths. Everywhere around me were people were being torn apart and eaten by things you couldn't quite see. It was horrible." Shaking, Breanna sat on the floor and tucked her knees to her chin. "It was real. I could see the monsters in the smoke, ripples in the air, and blood spray when they killed some poor person. Like burnt skeletons with jelly-like flesh, if you could call it that, and foot–long claws that reflected the light. One came at me and I knew I was going to die, I began to pray, and then I heard horse hooves pounding the dirt."
"Let me guess, I rode in like some knight in shining armor," Bass said flatly.
"Hardly. He— you —were more like a Celtic warrior wearing fur and leather, jet black hair spilling out from under your helm, and your cape streaming behind you." She smiled and Bass' chest constricted. "Now I realize that the helmet was really those wraparound horns that you get when you transform. And the cape was your wings. But I've never been afraid of the rider. Even when all I could see were his glowing eyes."
"Nice dream."
"I think it was a memory." Looking up, she captured his eyes with hers. "I think you recognized me for a soul-keeper, too. There were people right in front of you fighting, dying, but you put yourself between me and the monster."
"What makes you think this was me, anyway?"
"It was the first thing I thought of when I saw you at the hanger. I just knew it was you."
Sitting back propped up by his elbows, Bass imagined what she saw in her dream and ran it through his mind. A sick wave rolled over him, a strange feeling he may have seen someone once long ago. Bree could be right. "What did you look like?"
"I have no idea. I’ve never seen a reflection of myself in the dreams. Just my hands and the rough homespun cloth dress I'm wearing, and the things around me. I wasn't speaking English. I'm not sure what language it was. The accent was somehow familiar, but I don't think it was anything I've heard before."
"No, not in this life time," Bass mumbled.
"Excuse me?" Breanna crawled forward until she was on her knees between his thighs and Bass nearly choked.
Hadn't he dreamed of her in that same position a few minutes ago?
He gave himself a mental slap.
"Around the beginning of the ninth century I battled a pack of vedits in a village on the coast of Scotland. They're demons that look like what you described. That clear jelly-like covering of theirs gives them chameleon-esque abilities, making them almost invisible." He rubbed his eyes. "But they don't exist anymore, and because of their camouflage ability, no human ever documented one. You wouldn't know what one looked like unless you were alive prior to the 1200s when the last of them were wiped off the Earth."
"See! I had to have been there!"
Bass ran his hands through his hair. "I'm not saying I believe that you were there. Just that creatures like that once existed."
"Were you in the area because of those things, or were you looking for soul-keepers," Breanna asked leaning forward.
"We don't look for Aktura, remember, we stumble across them when we find a demon attack."
"But you would have known I was there. I mean that an Aktura was there? You would have felt that resonance thing."
Bass tilted his head. "How did you—"
"The others told me. If I understand this connection thing, you would have felt me, her, whatever, when you rode into the village. Right?"
"That was a long time ago. I don't remember." Bass shrugged. "Possibly."
"Then why didn't you steal her away? Even if you didn't know she was yours—"
"First off, I wasn't living here back then. I was a loaner. And second, I died."
"What?" Breanna moved closer, resting her hands on his knees. Horror filled her eyes. Bass wished he never told her.
"I died and the survivors buried me in a cairn of stone. I woke up three, four, days later and clawed my way out. Everyone was gone."
"Oh, Bass. I'm so sorry." Gently, she traced her fingers over his jaw.
Her touch raced through his veins like lightening. Fighting the urge to pull her onto the bed with him, Bass stood and walked away. "Ancient history. Nothing to be sorry about."
Breanna pushed to her feet and moved next to him. "We don't really know how this soul connection thing works, so that could have been me. Or rather my soul. We could have met before and the dreams are some sort of spiritual memory." When she raised her hand to touch him again, he stepped away.
"What is your problem? You're acting like I have cooties or something." Breanna stomped her foot.
"Cooties?"
"You know what I mean." She huffed.
"Seriously, Bree, it's better if I don't touch you."
"Why?"
"You'll just have to trust me." Bass took another step back. "It's just not a good thing right now. I'm not thinking straight."
Bree took a step forward and Bass braced himself for what she might do. In the next heartbeat, as if the universe wanted to give him an out, every alarm in the place went off. Including those only the fallen angels would sense through the energy running through the island and villa.
Bass jumped into action, momentarily flashing to retrieve his sword before bursting out the door, leaving Breanna standing in his room, dumbfounded. He couldn't stop to explain.
They were under attack.
An evil force tripped the systems, both electronic and magical, all over the island.
Looks like Lucifer is finally making a play, Bass thought as he flashed downstairs.
Damn it, maybe he should have slept with Breanna.
Chapter Eighteen
At the bottom of the front stairs Bass skidded to a stop. The scene in the courtyard was far from what he'd expected. Instead of an attacking demon horde, he found his fellow warriors forming a loose circle around Hogart and Sam.
"What the fuck?" Keeping his sword up, he advanced slowly.
Hogart stood over a disarmed Sam, both hands wrapped tightly around the hilt, his sword raised above the boy ready to strike him dead with a devastating plunge of the blade. Every muscle in the big warrior's body trembled as he fought an unseen force.
"I repeat, what the fuck?"
The entire household, including the humans and demons, filled the courtyard. Bass tensed, sensing Breanna's approach. Dropping his sword, he spun and caught her as she ran past intent on rescuing her brother.
"Let me go, you bastard! I have to save Sam!" She kicked and screamed, and landed a few punches to Bass' face.
"Calm down. Please." Bass held tight. "Let us handle this." When Breanna dissolved into tears and threw her arms around his neck, Bass pulled her closer, whispering, "Don't worry, babe. I'll save your brother, even if it kills me."
Breanna pulled back and looked deep into his eyes. On a breath, she shocked Bass with
a kiss. "Be careful," she whispered, pulling away.
Clearing his throat and his mind, Bass left his sword on the cobblestones and approached Hogart with his hands held up. "Yo, man, what's the deal?"
"Back off," the big man spat in a strained voice.
Rail laid his sword down as well and moved in from the other side. "Hogart, that boy is an innocent. You'll be committing murder."
"Not the first." Hogart growled like a mad animal. His neck tensed, veins rising to trace a road map over his arms and back. His demon rippled below the surface, darkening his skin. "I don't know how much longer I can keep it at bay. Kill me. Now!"
"Tell us what's going on." Rail took another step forward.
Hogart's sword jerked downward. "No closer!"
Bass took in every movement, every tick and tremor. Every ragged breath. It wasn't Hogart's hands holding the sword above the boy's chest, it was something else. Something evil. The warrior fought against possession.
"Hogart," he said calmly. "Tell us what's going on. It's obviously not you. Someone, something, is making you do this."
"The Darkness," he wailed. "The Darkness in my soul. In my mind. Voices screaming! They want me to kill the boy!" The blade drove down, ringing a death knell as it struck the stones.
***
Sam stared at the blade vibrating against his ribs. He hadn't moved, yet somehow Hogart missed. While he contemplated the kiss of cold metal against his bare skin, Sam unexpectedly found himself in what could only be described as the center of a rugby scrimmage, and he was the ball. Somewhere in the background, his sister's screams rose above the chaos.
Instinct broke through the mental mud in which his thoughts floundered. Desperation forced him to fight against the press of bodies until he scrambled free and into open air. Bree and Cassidy grabbed hold and dragged him from the mêlée.
"Sam! Are you all right?" Bree held his face between her hands.
"My back hurts from hitting the ground, but other than that, I think I'm okay." Astonished with the fact, he patted himself, looking for injuries.
"What happened?"
Sam looked up to find a breathless Tam standing over him. The fear he'd felt in the kitchen when facing the big man rose again, but he squashed it. Tam was not the warrior he needed to fear.
Obviously.
"We were sparring. He wanted to see what kind of skills I had and we both needed to blow off some steam. We were going at it harder and harder. Pushing each other, but... God, next thing I knew, he was coming at me for real. Trying to kill me." Sam drew his knees up and rested his forehead on them. "Then I was on the ground staring up at the point of his sword." He shook his head. "I thought..."
"What?"
"That I could trust him." Sam looked up. "I thought he'd gotten better being here. When we were talking earlier, he said the energy here helped him. But when he knocked me down, it was like he was fighting for control of the sword. He was arguing with himself."
Bree wrapped her arms around him and Sam leaned into the embrace.
An animalistic roar rent the air, followed by a cry filled with horror and pain.
"Kill me!"
Tam turned toward the tangle of warriors in time to catch Boomer as he was thrown off. Dazed, Boomer grasped his friend. "He's tainted. I can smell it on him."
"He's fighting it, though, so there's still time." Tam clapped Boomer on the back and pushed him toward the manor. "Get the chains."
Boomer took two steps and flashed to the villa. Tam threw himself into the fight.
"What now," Bree asked Cassidy, keeping an eye on the fighting warriors.
"I don't know, but I think I have an idea." She blew a strand of hair from her eyes. "I just don't know if it will work."
Sam reached forward, grabbing her desperately. "What? What are they going to do?"
Cassidy pulled her arm free and gave him a measuring look. "Why do you care?"
The question felt like a slap, but Sam figured he deserved it after the way he'd acted. "I know this is going to sound weird, but yeah, I care. I don't understand why, but when I was looking up at that crazy bastard, I felt—" His voice broke and Sam took a deep breath. "I felt like there was a reason for him finding us. Like we're connected."
"But you're not his soul-keeper." Bree gaped in disbelief.
"I know that!" He pushed his sister away and got to his feet. "It was more like... It was like that time with Gramps." His breaths came out in ragged puffs. "When we went to visit the wounded soldiers at the Vet's Center. When I was with them, I felt like I belonged. Like I was one of them. Part of them. I can't explain it." When he talked with the guys about the things they'd seen and experienced, it was the first time since his parents' deaths he'd truly felt someone understood the emotions storming inside him. A cold ball of dread swirled in his gut. "It's just a feeling."
Boomer reappeared in the courtyard with heavy silver chains in his arms.
"Get his legs first," someone called.
There was more yelling and grunting.
When the warriors parted, Hogart lay on the bricks wrapped in chains, unable to move, yet still vibrating with rage.
"Now what?" Bass wiped blood from his split lip.
Kaz stood over Hogart, vibrating with fury, eyes glowing. His inner demon barely contained. "Now we pray and hope someone's listening."
Chapter Nineteen
Lucifer felt the call, a tremor in the energy circling the human world. The need, the hunger was like a starving child standing in the shadows of something more powerful and ancient. Something familiar.
Curious.
He grasped the shimmering vibration. It resisted at first and then, as if recognizing a kindred spirit of darkness, threw itself toward his questing mind.
Startled by the wanton desire for contact, Lucifer nearly lost his hold. Beaten down, locked away, restrained, fed on guilt and fear, this dark seed hungered for what he offered. Acceptance. Freedom.
Taking a deep breath, Lucifer willed his mind and body to calm. Considering he was still healing from months of punishment at the Dark Lord's own hands, it was not an easy task to move past the pain racing through his raw exposed nerves. Just breathing pushed him to the edge of his endurance. He couldn't give up. To capture this soul would give him a massive infusion of power— the light surrounding the dark seed indicated it sat deep within one who once walked in the Heavenly realm.
Someone who once stood in the presence of his father.
A soul standing on the edge of a true fall.
It just needed a little help to become his tool.
For a moment he wondered how this one had slipped from attention, not that it truly mattered. The fruit was ripe for the picking. Should he pull it from the branch or nudge it so it fell naturally? It wouldn't take much. A rage-storm would be quick, but it had to be subtle until the last possible moment. Like calming a frightened beast until one got close enough to slit its throat.
Lucifer let his consciousness flow through the seed and opened himself to the emotional whirlwind tormenting the host's soul, lapping it up like a cat with milk.
There was a resonance in the underlying energy patterns surrounding the soul, teasing him. Lucifer checked again, but he didn't recognize anything marking this being as an angel he'd known before his own Fall. However, the tendrils of madness swirling around the darkness were as familiar as breathing. This one had an inner demon born from self-loathing, not a Fall from Grace. A demon risen from spiritual loss to suck the life from the soul. Clouded the heart and mind.
The seed of darkness had ancient, deep roots. This one suffered much since leaving Heaven. Since he still bore a soul, albeit a damaged one, this angel had most likely been banished and locked out as punishment for some silly infraction against the Hierarchy.
Focused now, Lucifer slowly fed the darkness his anger and pain. Immediately the energy changed from accepting to resisting again. The interference was familiar. Lucifer eased up to assess the situation. A change i
n the energy patterns gave him his answer. This Fallen One was in the presence of those twice-damned Knights. They were pulling the warrior back from accepting the Dark call.
Lucifer snarled through clenched teeth. The time for subtlety was over.
In a flash, he blasted through the crack he'd created in the darkness, forced his consciousness into the warrior, and clasped the hilt of a sword. In a frenzy, burning with raw energy, Lucifer released all the hate and anger he carried for the Knights, driving the warrior to kill the human boy in front of him.
At first it appeared as if something in the warrior agreed with the plan, then everything changed.
Time slowed. In the next breath, Lucifer was the one fighting for control. He pushed and nothing happened. Another push only gained an inch. Screaming in fury and pain, Lucifer released a torrent of his personal energy, flooding the dark seed with his own life force.
The resistance shattered and the sword plunged down. Sure he'd won, Lucifer opened himself completely to the Fallen One's mind.
Fire erupted in his brain, every nerve awash with light.
Shocked and confused, the Devil tumbled into unconsciousness.
Chapter Twenty
"Rail, trust me on this." Cassidy took his hand. "I think we can help him."
Bree moved to stand next to Bass, leaning against him. "She's right. I remember something from my studies about the laying of hands. I think if you touch him, you can give him your energy directly."
Rail held out his free hand to Cassidy. "If our emotions are in sync, this might work."
"I want to help him," she answered, taking his free hand.
"So do I." Rail brought Cassidy forward and wrapped his arms tightly around her.
Bree clung to Bass. Her legs went weak as she watched Cassidy and Rail fade, into a translucent ghost. The image glowed faintly and the air hummed. The soft glow blossomed outward and the two forms vanished, replaced by one glorious being made of light and darkness. The very air tingled with the electricity from an approaching storm and the island stilled.
