The Soulkeepers Series, Part Two (Books 4-6)

by Ching, G. P.

  He lifted one corner of his mouth. “I try.”

  * * * * *

  Cord formed next to the holy water font in the destroyed foyer of the church above Sanctuary. The hum of the blessed water soothed him, a sound he’d never heard before becoming an angel. He needed soothing. The idea that Bonnie might be put in danger because of his words weighed heavily on his heart, although he could not have lied about the incident. Lying was as foreign to him now as telling the truth had been as a Watcher.

  As soon as he fully formed, he knew he was not alone.

  Katrina dropped the dagger she’d been holding into the font and stumbled backward, bumping into a fallen statue of St. Joseph. She steadied herself, fear widening her eyes. He watched her gaze shift hopefully to the pile of blood soaked weapons on the floor.

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” Cord said, raising a hand between them. “I’m not the same person.”

  Her throat rippled with her swallow. “You look the same.”

  At first Cord was going to agree, but then he saw the faint glow of his raised fingers. He did not look the same. He did not bleed the same. “Do I?” he asked.

  Katrina’s shoulders relaxed slightly. “No, I guess not. I mean, your eyes are different, and your skin sort of glows.”

  He nodded. “I’m sorry to disturb you. I usually come here to be alone.”

  “I was thinking the same thing,” Katrina said. “Plus, I wanted to make myself useful. Malini and Jacob have helped me so much.”

  “You look better.”

  “It’s amazing what six meals a day and magical healing will do for a girl. I’m pretty sure I’ve broken some kind of weight gain record.”

  “Are you feeling better?” Cord asked as delicately as possible.

  “Sort of. I’m better physically. Not passing out anymore. Am I still craving Elysium like oxygen? Yes. Sometimes the need for it cuts through me like a bolt of lightning, squeezing me in its grip until I think I can’t stand it anymore. But I’m still here. The wanting hasn’t killed me.” She laughed a little. Her fingers found the dagger at the bottom of the font, and she lifted the now sparkling weapon from the water, placing it in the clean pile. “I wish it worked like this for me. The nasty Watcher blood just dissolves in the water. I’m healing, but the nastiness is still there under the surface.”

  “I’m sorry I possessed you,” Cord said.

  Katrina’s gaze rose to meet his eyes. “You said yourself you are a different person now.”

  “It doesn’t change the past. I’m sorry I possessed you and nearly killed you. I ate you alive from the inside out. Maybe I had something to do with your addiction to Elysium. Please forgive me. Please.” Cord’s voice caught on the last word, and a sure and certain truth ignited within him. He needed Katrina’s forgiveness, needed it to his core.

  “I’ve hated you for a long time, Cord. I blamed you for every hardship I’ve faced over the last year.”

  Something wet ran from his eye. Cord wiped the wet away and saw silver on his fingers. Angel tears. He stared at the strange substance on his fingertips.

  “Does it make it better to hate me? If it helps you, then so be it,” he said.

  Katrina made a sound between a cough and a sob, causing Cord to lift his eyes to her. “Maybe it’s time for me to let it go,” she said. “The you I hated does not exist anymore. I’m in hate with a ghost.”

  “I exist. And I’m sorry for who I was. Sometimes my knees buckle under the weight of my past, but it is a burden I made for myself.”

  Katrina took a deep breath. “I think we have that in common. I can’t even think about what I did to my parents.”

  “It’s not too late,” Cord said. “Your parents are still alive. You can make it up to them.”

  She nodded. “And I will. Father Raymond is going to drive me home to Paris tomorrow.”

  Cord smiled, but his heart still burned for the forgiveness he sought. It was hers to give or withhold, but he wished there was a way he could make it up to her.

  “I forgive you, Cord,” Katrina said suddenly. “I’m letting it go.”

  “Thank you.” Cord blew out a relieved breath and bowed his head. “You do me a true service.”

  “It’s not too late for you either,” she said. “Lucifer is still out there, and you, more than anyone, have the power to help the Soulkeepers.”

  Cord raised his eyebrows. “I do?”

  “Of course you do. Who knows Lucifer better than you? You need to help Malini intercept his next move. The Soulkeepers need you.”

  “Bonnie needs me?” Cord whispered. He thought about what Malini had said—at some point Bonnie and Hope would be put in danger to test the baby’s abilities. Only he could make a difference. If he were able to use his angelic abilities to obtain information that would help the Soulkeepers win this challenge, maybe he could protect the two humans responsible for his redemption. He owed them that, didn’t he?

  “Sure. All of them do,” Katrina said.

  “You’re right. I need to make it up to them by doing something that really matters. I need to help them thwart Lucifer.”

  Katrina nodded. “It couldn’t hurt.”

  Cord walked toward the column of light where the sun shined through what remained of a stained glass window.

  “Where are you going?” Katrina asked.

  Cord glanced back at her. “To get started. Thank you, Katrina.” Then he broke apart into the light, concentrating on his destination, Harrington Enterprises.

  Chapter 15

  The Fifth Gift

  “Now this I could get used to,” Gabriel said. He smoothed the lapels of the cashmere suit jacket he was wearing and took a seat in one of the early American chairs in the waiting area. God took a seat next to him, his tall stature and perfectly groomed hair an unusual look for the deity.

  “Your name tag,” God said, handing him a lanyard with the picture of his current image inside. The name read Mr. Gabriel Wingman. God placed his around his neck.

  Gabriel laughed.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Mr. Iam Love? I am love? It’s funny because it’s true.” Mr. Wingman smiled.

  “I suppose. Stop laughing, Gabriel. We are going to meet with the president of the United States. We must present an air of solemnity.”

  “Why?”

  “Because we want him to take us seriously and accept my gift.”

  “Can’t he see you for what you are?” Gabriel asked. “He should be falling on his knees for the chance to be your vessel of change.”

  The Lord smiled. “Ah, Gabriel, you are a devoted and priceless friend. As before, we must allow this man to come to me of his own free will, and that requires that we give him that freedom. My unshielded presence would most likely overwhelm him.”

  “Very well.”

  A thin and graceful woman with a short black bob appeared in front of them. “I am sorry about the confusion concerning your appointment. The president will see you now.”

  “Thank you.” God nodded, and the woman opened the door to the Oval Office.

  “Confusion?” Gabriel asked in a voice so quiet it was imperceptible by human ears.

  “The president had a two o’clock appointment with the Israeli prime minister. Fortunately, I arranged for two o’clock to come twice today. Bending time wasn’t quite as difficult as making everyone involved believe the duplicate calendar was perfectly normal. Tomorrow, they will remember it only as they might a daydream.”

  “Genius.”

  The president stood from his work and extended his hand. “Welcome, Mr. Love, Mr. Wingman. Please, have a seat. What can I do for you today?”

  God pulled a sheet of paper from the portfolio he was carrying and placed it in front of the president before taking a seat in the hand-carved chair on the other side of the desk. The paper was blank.

  “I am from a grassroots organization called the Cultural Conservation Society. Our goal is to survive the demon apocalypse whi
le preserving the qualities most germane to our humanity.”

  “Right now I’m focused on the survival part, Mr. Love. We’ve lost too many citizens to this thing. Even the Council for the Eradication of the Unholy is struggling to keep the invasion at bay.”

  “Or perhaps the fox is guarding the henhouse,” Gabriel said softly.

  “What are you suggesting?”

  The Lord quieted Gabriel with a raised eyebrow. “We at the CCS believe that Harrington Enterprises, Milton Blake, and his mentee, Asher James, have a conflict of interest serving on the council. Eradication of the demons would put Harrington out of business. Fifty percent of their profits come from their security packages, and now, with the mark required for everything bought, sold, and earned, they take a percentage of every purchase.”

  “Don’t get me started on the branding.” The president glanced at a picture of his wife and daughters on his desk. “It was all I could do to get an exemption for myself and my family. Bakewell called me an elitist.”

  “But you aren’t, are you?”

  “No.” The president coupled his hands on his desk as though he were praying. “I am a man who believes in personal liberty. It’s what this country was founded on. The idea of inserting something under my skin or anyone else’s doesn’t sit right with me. You know, they’ve never even explained how it works.”

  “Exactly.” God held up his right hand, the clear pale skin indicating his aversion to Harrington’s seal. “And now, Asher has been nominated to run against you in November. You know who is pulling his strings—Milton Blake. It would be a shame to lose your leadership, Mr. President.”

  “You don’t understand. Everyone is afraid. It’s anarchy out there. The council has unlimited power precisely because American citizens are terrified to leave their homes. Harrington promises safety. People won’t like me taking that away from them.”

  “What if the Cultural Conservation Society could give you information so formidable that it could not be ignored and would give you the power to eliminate the council and take up the gauntlet against the demons yourself?”

  The president rubbed his chin. “Go on.”

  “Turn the paper over,” God said.

  The commander-in-chief’s eyebrows knit as he flipped over what he thought was an introductory letter on his desk. The photo on the other side elicited a gasp. Gabriel smiled.

  “You will recognize that photo as the one taken at the Hedonic Party’s National Convention a few days ago. This version was taken with an ultraviolet flash. You can clearly see—”

  “Asher is a demon,” the president said. “You two didn’t tamper with this photo?”

  “No, sir,” Mr. Gabriel said. “He is what he is.”

  The president rubbed a manicured hand over his face. “We need to leak this to the press, but will anyone believe?”

  “I have a better way, but first, I need your word, Mr. President, that you will align yourself with all that is good and human in the world and help Mr. Wingman and me stop Milton Blake. We can’t do this without you.” God extended his hand.

  The president didn’t hesitate. He clasped the Lord’s hand. “You have my word. In the name of all that is holy, we need to work together to end this apocalypse once and for all.”

  A soft electricity burned along the Lord’s arm and into the hand of the president. The man’s skin lit up like a lightbulb, his chest swelled, and his eyes glowed with an internal light.

  “I give you leadership,” God said. “You, Mr. President, are the vessel. Speak the truth, and all who hear will come to follow you.”

  The president blinked rapidly. God retracted his hand. On the desk, a small vial appeared next to the picture.

  “What’s this?”

  “The water in this vial is toxic to demons. If I recall correctly, the Council for the Eradication of the Unholy meets tomorrow morning. Place a few drops of this into Asher’s drink and make sure the cameras are rolling.”

  “Yes. I know just what to do.” He nodded slowly.

  God stood. “I thank you for your time, Mr. President. You are a good, good man.”

  “Do you have to go so soon?” the president asked, sliding the vial into his pocket.

  “Unfortunately, yes. You have work to do, and I fear I am a terrible distraction. But you will see me again someday.”

  “I look forward to it.”

  Gabriel opened the door for God, and then followed him out of the Oval Office. “Mission accomplished,” God said. The graceful woman glanced up from her desk, but in the blink of an eye, the two men disappeared and so did the memory of why she’d looked up from her work. She shook her head and returned to what she was doing.

  Chapter 16

  Where Angels Fear to Tread

  Cord arrived in the conference room at Harrington Enterprises, a silent cascade of molecules that blended seamlessly into the fluorescent light. He hovered there, listening. Katrina was right, the least he could do after all the pain he’d caused the Soulkeepers was to spy on Lucifer and help God win the challenge. This would be his true redemption.

  When he saw what was on the table, he almost dropped from his hiding place out of shock. A woman was bound by the wrists and ankles to the conference table, surrounded by Auriel, Lucifer, and the Wicked Brethren. Fully conscious, she’d been gagged silent, but tears fell from the corners of her eyes. She knew her death was near. Cord sensed her despondency pressing in around him, as though the air was thick with her unanswered prayers. Her eyes snapped to his. No. She was simply staring into the light, and he was in the light. Still, it was unsettling.

  With a heavy heart, Cord forced himself to look away to keep from helping her. It was for the greater good that he complete his mission and return to the Soulkeepers.

  “Our market penetration is at forty-five percent,” Damien said, words floating over the woman to the place where Lucifer sat at the head of the table, intermittently tapping a pen near the wretched woman’s head. “Of course, that number is of registered voters. We know there are other humans avoiding the mark.”

  “Strong, but I want over fifty percent before elections in November. We must be prepared for the next gift. I don’t like surprises,” Lucifer said.

  “We could force them, My Lord.” Damien steepled his fingers under his chin.

  “No,” Lucifer said firmly. “They must maintain their free will. The Great Oppressor will not tolerate a slip in this regard.”

  “The unaligned will bow eventually,” Levi said. “We have not allowed so much as a block of cheese to pass to an unbranded soul.”

  “Hunger is a fine motivator, but I fear the Great Oppressor has a hand in their persistence. Last I checked, the human body could go no more than three weeks without food. I believe we are past that threshold, yet still the humans live. The fourth gift has come to pass.”

  “They are sharing,” Auriel piped in. “Those with the brand are giving to those without.”

  “A silly, girlish theory,” Damien said. “Those with the brand are not concerned for the welfare of others.”

  Asher waved one well-manicured hand. “It is beside the point. My campaign is skyrocketing. People will join me to reap the benefits of the Hedonic Party. No rules. No law. Do anything you want. Who could resist?”

  “Yes,” Lucifer said. “You are the key, Asher. If we can win the people’s favor, we can win their hearts. Total freedom is in their best interest, after all. It’s good for the economy.”

  Damien flashed a greedy smile.

  Not to be outdone by his two brothers, Levi cleared his throat. “Don’t forget, My Lord, that forty-five percent of the population could be forty-eight tomorrow as my Watcher army continues to feed on those without a Harrington brand. I’ve succeeded in channeling the Watchers’ appetites away from those with your mark.”

  A pleased smile turned Lucifer’s lips. “Excellent. The number of Harrington Security complaints has bottomed out since the implementation of the seal.”

/>   “The coming spring will make it even easier for us to find the dissenters. No gloves to hide behind.”

  “Brilliant, Levi. They will join us, or they will die. And what of the Soulkeepers? Have you killed any?”

  The three brothers became very interested in the table. Auriel smiled self-righteously.

  “Have you found where they are staying?”

  The brothers glanced toward the door.

  “This is disappointing, brothers. I would have thought you could have flushed them out by now.”

  “It’s the angel,” Levi said. “He’s blocking us. Maybe he’s even spying on us.”

  Lucifer ran a hand through his well-groomed blond waves. “Cord,” he whispered.

  Auriel huffed. “Cord, an angel. It can’t be true. Another Soulkeeper trick, My Lord. One of them could change her appearance.”

  With an annoyed sigh, Lucifer narrowed his eyes at Auriel. “Copying an image is one thing. Blending into the light is quite another. Levi saw Cord blend into the light.” He addressed Damien directly. “Increase police patrol. Offer an award of a day’s pay for anyone who brings a friend in to be branded. Levi, keep the pressure on the Watchers to seek out our enemies for their next meal, and Asher…”

  “Yes, My Lord.”

  “Let’s wow them tomorrow at the council meeting. We have to continue winning favor to our side.”

  Asher nodded.

  “Very well,” Lucifer said. “You may feed.”

  With a collective growl, Auriel and the three brothers dove in, tearing flesh and drinking blood. Cord wept silently at the senseless gore, the woman’s pitiful, gurgling scream, and the awful slowing beat of her heart as it trudged toward its inevitable demise.

  Lucifer stood from the table and walked toward the door. Where was he going? Cord prepared himself to follow, to obtain more information for the Soulkeepers. But instead of leaving, Lucifer reached for the light switch.

  Cord realized what he was doing too late. He couldn’t react fast enough to retreat into the light above him. The click of the switch plunged the room into darkness. Cord’s body formed and fell, crashing into table and corpse before toppling past Levi to the industrial carpet.