Souls Estranged (The Souls Trilogy Book 2)

by Anne B. Cole

  “No!”

  She saw Derrick’s head snap in her direction before detonation.

  The force of the explosion knocked Derrick to the ground. He scrambled under the car as debris rained down. An eerie silence followed.

  She continued watching him as he poked his head out and scanned the area.

  The colossal explosion had ripped a gigantic crater where she had last stood. Two immense trees had splintered and crashed down, scattering debris everywhere. The mansion remained standing, over a hundred feet away. With its windows reduced to shards, stunned people began exiting the building. No one appeared injured.

  The sound of an engine turning over caught her attention. Derrick drove away without looking back.

  Maggie’s soul hovered above the debris. Time seemed to speed up as emergency vehicles arrived and television reporters flocked to the scene. Police taped off the area in an attempt to contain the chaos. Within the sizable crowd of onlookers, she recognized two men staring in wonder at the site from behind the yellow tape.

  “She’s gone.” Kurt rubbed the back of his head. Tears glistened on his cheeks.

  Mitch stood at his side. “I found a loophole. She would’ve been released from death row.” His shoulders slumped in frustration.

  “Maggie wanted out. She wanted him dead.” Kurt replied, gesturing to the governor’s mansion.

  They stood in silence as police and emergency personnel examined the site of impact.

  After a long pause, Mitch sighed.

  “They will question you—”

  “Maggie made sure she left no trail to me. She was . . . careful.” Kurt stopped talking and bowed his head.

  I wasn’t careful enough.

  Mitch put a hand on Kurt’s shoulder and offered one of his business cards. “If you need me for anything, I won’t charge a dime.”

  Kurt accepted the card, nodding his appreciation. Tears fell shamelessly over his cheeks. “There was good in her. I saw it, especially in the last few days. She deserved better than this.”

  Mitch pressed his lips together and nodded.

  Maggie’s spirit hovered beside the two men as they continued to stare at the scene of the explosion. Hateful fury consumed her. She hated the governor, hated Pothead Jenny for making the unstable bomb, hated the bees, hated the two blubbering men, and especially hated the woman beside her who clutched her bicep.

  Damn them. Damn them all!

  “No. Damn you.” The woman next to her spoke vehemently and grabbed Maggie by both shoulders.

  As if the woman spoke to the devil himself, Maggie instantly plunged into impenetrable darkness. Stripped of all pride, confidence, and courage, her soul began to fill with what she hated most.

  Terror.

  Ice ran through Maggie’s spirit as she burned with fury. The woman who held her tight repeatedly screamed out as if petrified.

  Finding herself weak and pathetic, Maggie fought the woman with all her strength, yet together they fell into an endless abyss.

  A dark, ghost-like presence engulfed the two, and forced them to float in front of three faceless, hooded figures. One by one they shamed Maggie, mocked her, and unanimously condemned her.

  The presence smothered Maggie, tearing the woman’s one hand from her. The woman’s wailing continued, and Maggie found herself screaming back.

  “Shut up!”

  Suddenly, they fell into a huge cylindrical room which started to spin, slamming both her and the howling woman against the wall. Horrendous winds created by the velocity of the whirling room silenced the leech at her side.

  Dread paralyzed Maggie as evil wrapped itself around her soul. It tore her away from the wall and dragged her to a ledge where she caught her first glimpse of Tartarus.

  Chapter 24

  Tartarus

  Roxana

  A smoky presence slammed the two souls against the icy wall. Roxana no longer felt Maggie fighting to get away. Instead, Maggie clung to her.

  A burning force peeled Maggie from Roxana until only their hands touched. Roxana held her wrist, knowing Maggie’s destination. She strengthened her grip and prepared herself for entrance to Tartarus.

  A flash of fire leapt from the center and engulfed Maggie. Roxana maintained her grip and fell to the smoldering edge as evil pulled Maggie into the center of the flaming abyss. A frozen grasp on her ankle penetrated Roxana’s soul, unwilling to allow her to fall to Maggie’s destination. The fire, burning into her through Maggie’s hand, fought the icy energy clinging to her leg.

  Torn in two directions by forces beyond her control, Roxana focused on hope.

  Lightning flashed, splitting the two souls. Maggie disappeared within the flames, leaving Roxana at the edge of Tartarus, sobbing in defeat.

  Maggie’s screams sounded in the depths of the bottomless crater. Other voices rose from within the perpetual pit of torture, tearing Roxana’s attention to the center. Evil encompassed her as the frigid hold on her leg moved to her waist and guided her to the wall.

  With her back to the center of evil, she gathered her strength. Her hands burned from the fire that had engulfed Maggie’s soul. A foulness lingered and surrounded her, drawing her to the entrance of Tartarus. She welcomed the warmth it provided, and spun around.

  Horrific screams emitted from the bottomless pit. Roxana immediately recognized one voice.

  “Lorenzo,” she called to her brother whose image leapt from the crater within towering flames.

  “Go away!” he cried.

  Although many other mournful spirits cried out warnings, Roxana couldn’t look away from him. Malevolence gripped her brother, tormenting him with horror and pain. The icy presence held her firmly and propelled her back to the wall against her will, confirming her helplessness.

  Suddenly, an image of a desperate young woman reached out to Lorenzo. Within inches of their fingertips touching, he fell into the abyss and disappeared. The woman cried out to him as she became riddled with sadness.

  “Anya?” Roxana shrieked as the woman she believed to be her brother’s wife dove into the fiery pit after him.

  Six faceless souls materialized from the chasm. They tore her away from the icy clutch, surrounded her, and floated her over the abyss.

  Hovering above the entrance to Tartarus, Roxana refused to look down.

  Within the confines of The Six, she endured each of their sufferings. Pain. Emptiness. Anxiety. Sadness. Desperation. Fear.

  The latter continued to rip through her in an endless surge of anguish.

  “Anya! It’s time, my sister has come.” Her brother’s voice rang out within the depths.

  Hope. I need to cling to hope.

  She reached a hand into the infinite darkness. A fiery touch grasped the ends of her fingers. Thick orange-red flames engulfed her arm and sizzled up her shoulder. Beyond the searing pain, she felt him cling to her fingers. She tightened her grip.

  “Lorenzo, you must hold on!”

  Roxana thrust her other hand down. Smaller fingers wrapped around one thumb.

  The Six pitched Roxana back and forth, in an attempt to break them apart.

  Roxana refused to let go and dared to cast a glance into the abyss. A beautiful young woman looked up from within the misty depths.

  “Come with me,” Roxana pleaded.

  The soul she assumed to be Anya cried out in pain. Frost formed over her face, down her neck, and into her chest and arms.

  Roxana tightened her fingers around Anya’s.

  Crack!

  Anya’s soul shattered into pieces and sizzled into the flames of the chasm.

  “No!” Lorenzo’s voice roared.

  His fiery hold on Roxana’s hand released and he fell within the depths.

  Appar
ently satisfied with what she had endured, The Six released their grasp, allowing Roxana to collapse at the edge. They left her and disappeared into the depths of Tartarus.

  She cried out to her brother and thrust her hand over the edge.

  The crater began to whirl, forcing Roxana against the wall, but a soul from below clutched onto her wrist. She knew it wasn’t her brother, nor Anya. Fresh terror surrounded her as the pull steadily increased. Falling into the chasm of evil appeared inevitable. The one who seized her did so against the will of the icy presence.

  Roxana held tighter as her head and torso slipped downward. A firm grip on her ankles wrenched her back to the wall. The cylindrical room continued to spin with Roxana being pulled in opposite directions by faceless forces.

  Blocking out the horror, Roxana focused on Katarina and her daughter, Tatiana. She didn’t have enough strength to retrieve Tatiana, but she could alert her of Katarina’s entrance. Tatiana would be able to overcome the evil by focusing on her mother’s love. Their union as mother and daughter would keep them safe.

  They would be the two predicted to leave.

  Roxana remembered Minnie’s foresight that Katarina would be entering Tartarus with a woman named Raja. Had she already entered Tartarus?

  “Katarina? Don’t let go!” The grip on her hand tightened. Who gripped her hand? A stranger? Hope began slipping away as anguish swirled around her.

  No! She would not let the evil around her take away the love she had for others. Katarina would get Tatiana out and break the curses. She would stay with Lorenzo and Anya and wait for Katarina’s return.

  Roxana focused on her love for them, for Gretta and Sam, and for the power of good to overcome evil.

  Chapter 25

  Katarina entwined with Raja

  Raja

  Milk chocolate brown eyes met Raja’s, and the world stood still.

  Everything you need to know about a person can be found through careful observation.

  Her superiors had taught her how to be aware of her surroundings, recognize what people wanted, and predict how they would react in any situation.

  Raja had scored excellent marks in training. Her position at a coffee shop in LaGuardia Airport for the past three years exposed her to thousands of people she could study.

  The man standing in front of her appeared different. Those eyes . . . Penetrating, confident, yet wasn’t there a touch of concern in their depths, too? Raja gazed deeper into them as they widened with panic.

  “Hey.” He leaned close as hot coffee overflowed on her hand and wrist.

  The cup dropped to the counter, spilling in every direction. His hand removed the coffee pot from her grasp.

  Raja groaned, feeling layers of her skin burn. She knew better than to let a distraction take her mind off a task, even for a second.

  Foolish. I let my guard down.

  The man stood on her side of the counter.

  “Come to the sink. Cool water is best.”

  For some unknown reason, she followed him and allowed him to hold her hand under the spigot.

  She gasped as water slid between her fingers and over the burns. He held her arm firmly with his other, steadying her shoulder. She shuddered in his grasp as painful memories flooded her mind.

  Missionaries had told her she was born in 1990 to an Iraqi mother and an American father. Rescue workers found her beneath the bodies of her parents during the bombings of Baghdad in January 1991. Authorities at the mission named her Raja, which means ‘Hope,’ for she had been the single living body pulled from the debris that day.

  The Red Cross took her to the orphanage with her father’s photojournalist identification card and her mother’s wedding band. Both had disappeared before she could walk. Kind missionaries worked at the orphanage until she was five. They were ordered out of the country and she never saw them again.

  Raja had blocked out the following eight years, until today. She strained to get away from his touch.

  “I know it hurts. Keep it under the water.”

  His compassionate voice touched her so deeply she stopped struggling. Instead, she trembled.

  The last time someone held her, it had been against her will, and that man intended to hurt her. Violate her. Jamal had torn the brute away, cut her binds, and took her from the orphanage. At thirteen, Raja swore never to leave Jamal for he had saved her, provided for her, trained her, and never touched her. For what he did, she was grateful and loyal even though she hadn’t had direct contact with him since they located her in America three years ago.

  This intriguing man lifted her hand out of the water flow. With the utmost tenderness, he removed the thick woven bracelet from her left wrist.

  She focused on his shoes, in shame. Ligature scars never fade. She could cover them and refuse to look at them, but they would forever be an ugly reminder of the years in the orphanage. Memories she wanted to forget.

  Gratefully, the man, who wore jeans and a light blue tailored shirt, didn’t ask about the scars. He led her to a chair, holding her by the arm and shoulder.

  Raja looked into his brown eyes in silent thanks.

  “Are you working alone?” he asked.

  She didn’t answer, wondering what caused her to be so uncharacteristically distracted.

  “I apologize. My name is JD, and you are?” he looked at her name tag.

  “Raja. Thank you. My manager went to the vault for a money drop.” She started to get up, but JD held tight.

  “Sit for a minute. You may have second degree burns.” His voice rang firmly.

  “Are you a doctor?” Raja asked nervously. She had never been this close to a man in her life except for the one horrible time ten years earlier. JD’s touch terrified her, yet thrilled her in the same moment.

  “No, but I’m trained in first aid. I’m a—”

  “Raja? What happened?” Her short, broad hipped, gray-haired manager dropped the empty money bag on the counter. “Who are you?” she demanded.

  “Flo, I spilled coffee and JD helped me.” Raja’s voice quivered slightly as he let go of her shoulder. His hold on her arm above the burn remained.

  “Sorry. I jumped the counter to help.” He scrutinized her hand again. “Looks like first degree burns for the most part. They may be more severe between your fingers and on your wrist.” He carefully turned her hand over, concealing the old rope scars from Flo. “Do you have a first aid kit?”

  Raja felt a rush of warmth she had never known. JD not only cared for her wound, but he had protected her pride.

  Flo disappeared in the back, returning promptly with a white metal box. She stood a foot shorter than JD, who Raja guessed to be about six-one. Flo hovered like a mother hen.

  JD gently wrapped gauze around her hand and wrist. When he finished, he let go of her hand. The sudden lack of his touch caused Raja to frown.

  “Too tight? I can loosen it.”

  Gentle hands returned to her wrist. His concern affected her so much, she panicked and tried to create some distance.

  “It’s fine. I should get back to work.” Raja attempted to stand. JD grinned as Flo stepped in between them.

  “Oh, no you’re not. I can handle things until Chrissy comes in at four. You should have your hand looked at by a real doctor.” Flo’s protectiveness loomed over them.

  “I can take you if you’d like.”

  JD’s offer hung in the air. Raja couldn’t accept. Friends were forbidden. She paused in apprehension. She sensed she could trust him, but it would be breaking a rule.

  “That’s not necessary, mister. I’ll take care of Raja.” Flo faced JD squarely with her back to her.

  He spoke to Flo in a low voice and appeared to show her something from his pocket.

  Raja couldn’t see aroun
d Flo’s stout frame. Whatever he said resulted in Flo returning to the counter with a smile.

  “Maybe you should go with him, honey. This guy is okay.”

  “I’ll take her to a real doctor to check her arm. Afterward, I’ll escort her home,” JD announced.

  “You good with this, Raja?” Flo asked.

  “I’m fine. It doesn’t hurt . . . not much,” she added when both of them saw through her attempted lie.

  “Go, I’ll take care of things here. Call me when you get home. And you, take care of her.” Flo turned away from them as a customer approached the counter.

  JD snapped her bracelet on her good wrist. She bit her lip as he pretended not to notice more scars.

  No close friends, no relationships.

  She took a deep breath as he helped her to her feet and escorted her into the back where she grabbed her purse.

  “Take care of that arm and I’ll see you tomorrow.” Flo waved as they stepped into the crowded concourse.

  “I’ll be in at six. Bye, Flo.” The brush of JD’s sleeve against her elbow brought every nerve ending in her body to attention.

  “Sorry, did I hurt you?”

  “No.” The concern in his eyes unraveled her. She created space and concentrated on lowering her heartrate.

  “My friend’s flight from Chicago is delayed due to mechanical problems, so we have plenty of time to get your hand checked.” He stepped to the side, allowing her to maneuver around a group of teenagers and step through the exit first.