by Anne Hope
“But I already have a soul.” Lia’s distress was palpable.
“A soul that perfectly mirrors his,” Cal replied.
Bafflement shone in the crystal blue depths of her eyes. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“A soul is cut from the very essence of the angels.” Cal pulled up a chair, lowered his tall frame into it. “In its full form, it is a truly powerful thing. So powerful that since the Great Flood, no human has been granted a full soul. Most people get half. Some get no more than a quarter.”
“Are you saying that Jace and I are soul mates?”
Cal shrugged. “That’s one term people like to use. I see the souls as twins. When two are reunited in one body—a very rare occurrence, I assure you—then that person is what we call a Diplopsych. In other words, a twin soul.”
Jace had just about heard enough. “This is bullshit.”
“Just look at her, idiot.” Marcus wasn’t one to mince words. “She glows like a freaking light show. Why do you think that is? Have you seen anyone else with that powerful an essence? She’s got your old soul inside her.”
“And that soul is slowly fusing with hers,” Cal interjected, “allowing her glimpses of your past life. The more the two lost halves meld into one, the clearer your memories will become to her.”
Jace’s head began to pound. “Got any hard liquor in this joint?”
“Won’t do you any good.” Marcus’s grin bordered on evil. “The second you lost your soul, you stopped being human, and your entire body chemistry altered. An altogether different kind of energy is keeping you alive now, and believe me, this one isn’t born of angels. Not the good kind, anyway.”
“You’ve just answered my question.” Jace stood, preparing to blow this pop stand. “You’ve definitely got liquor here, and the whole lot of you has obviously been hitting the sauce.”
“Sit down,” Cal ordered. Steel coated his voice, and Jace reclaimed his seat despite himself.
“I’ve never really put much stock in this stuff,” Lia said. “But if I’m to believe what spiritualists claim, then a person cannot survive without a soul.”
It was about time she started seriously questioning these guys. She was finally beginning to see the loose threads in this carefully spun fairy tale.
“A human can’t,” Cal told her, “because there’s no other power to sustain him. But Jace wasn’t entirely human. He was a Hybrid, and a Hybrid carries a black energy inside him. For years, that energy was kept in check by his soul. The second his soul left his body, however, the darkness inside him spread, and he was reborn. Now he’s like everyone else here.”
“And what exactly is that?” Jace tried to temper his annoyance, failed. “And how are any of you different from that witch who keeps trying to kill me?”
“Someone tried to kill you?” Shock and concern laced Lia’s tone.
“She’s one of Athanatos’s followers, a Kleptopsych,” Marcus told him. “We’re pretty much the same in all respects except for one. The purebloods are born soulless, whereas we Hybrids get to have a soul. For a short while, anyway. Most of us don’t survive long enough to see our thirtieth birthday.”
Jace exhaled, slow and steady. “You don’t exactly look dead to me.”
Marcus didn’t look amused. “You know what I mean.”
“So let me get this straight,” Jace said with an unmistakable trace of sarcasm. “First we’re human, then we die and turn into these supernatural, sometimes murderous immortal beings, sort of like vampires.”
“Vampires are a myth.” Cal’s deadpan expression made this situation all the more ridiculous. “There are no creatures that subsist on human blood. Kleptopsychs feed on souls, preferably human.”
Lia’s face grew frighteningly pale. “And Hybrids?”
“We don’t need to ingest souls to survive,” Marcus answered. “Not as long as the links to our lost souls remain intact.”
“Intact?” Could the link to his old soul, his link to Lia, be severed?
“As long as they’re not consumed by one of our kind. Souls are constantly being reborn. A human could be walking around with my old soul right now, just like Lia is walking around with yours. If my lost soul were to fall prey to a Kleptopsych or a Rogue—” He shook his head, not bothering to finish the sentence.
“What happens to a soul when it’s ingested?” Lia asked.
“It is slowly extinguished,” Cal told her. “How long it takes depends on the strength of its light.”
“So it dies.” Her voice shook, a frown tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Dear God.”
“God has nothing to do with it.” Marcus’s eyes darkened to midnight blue. “We’re not heroes, Dr. Benson. We’ve got a powerful evil within us. One that wants nothing more than to take us over completely. Just because we don’t need to ingest souls, that doesn’t mean we’re not tempted to do so. Souls are naturally attracted to us. It takes a hell of a lot of willpower to ward them off.”
Guilt congealed in Jace’s chest. He remembered the train station, the way that woman’s essence had risen from her body and slammed into him. “You can do that? Ward them off?”
“Sure,” Marcus replied. “But it’s not easy. Without the Watchers’ bond it would be downright impossible, like trying not to breathe.”
Jace understood what Marcus meant. He felt the darkness inside him, that overwhelming hunger to succumb to it, and for the first time, he almost sympathized with the guy.
“We don’t feel like humans do,” Marcus said, his face an unreadable mask. “Our emotions are muted. But unlike the Kleptopsychs, we still have a conscience, because somewhere in the universe our lost souls still exist, and we’re irrevocably connected to them.”
Jace looked at Lia, felt her energy fill him and the emptiness inside him recede. He didn’t need Marcus to tell him she was his salvation. He felt it in his bones. As long as she was by his side, he could fight any big-ass evil and win.
His attention reverted back to Cal. “You still haven’t told me exactly what the Kleptopsychs are…other than the fact that they worship the devil and eat souls for breakfast.”
“They don’t worship Sataniel. They’re actually a product of the angels, though Sataniel did play a role in their creation.” Pain twisted Cal’s features, as if it hurt to explain. “Have you ever heard of the Nephilim? References to the Nephilim can be found in various religious texts, but they are featured most prominently in the Book of Enoch, a Hebrew apocryphal book, originally written in Aramaic.”
“Oh, yeah,” Jace snickered. “The book of Enoch. I read it every night before bed. Helps me sleep.”
Cal didn’t bother to dignify his caustic comment with a reply. “In the beginning of humanity, God sent a legion of angels to earth, known as the Grigori. Their role was to watch over God’s children, to assist them as they built their first civilizations and keep them from straying too far from Heaven’s path.
“But His most faithful servants failed Him. Horribly. The more time they spent with the humans, the more their loyalty faltered. Envy and yearning filled them, until they chose to fall, thinking they, too, could have what the humans have—love, forgiveness, acceptance.” He filled his lungs with air, went on to recite in a tone that was sad and haunting, “That the sons of God saw the daughters of men, that they were beautiful; and they took wives for themselves of all whom they chose.”
“Lust? That’s what did them in?” Jace blew out a puff of air. “I thought angels were immune to that kind of stuff. Like priests.”
Marcus released a dry, throaty laugh that resounded off the walls. “Show me a priest that doesn’t feel lust and I’ll show you a dead man. Feeling something and acting on it are two very distinct things. I should know.”
Cal shot Marcus a quelling look. “When the angels assumed human form,” he said, “they also assumed all of humanity’s burdens. That includes feelings such as greed, envy, pride, and yes, lust.”
“So what happened next?”
Lia asked. She was obviously buying this lecture on ancient lore. Jace would’ve expected a woman of science to practice a little more skepticism. He, himself, wasn’t nearly as convinced.
“The angels turned their backs on heaven. They married humans, decided to procreate. The product of those unions was a race of half-breeds once known as the Nephilim—children of impressive stature, cursed with inhuman powers, who spread corruption as easily as they breathed, until the earth was completely overrun by it.”
Once again, Diane’s words returned to batter him. Angel of death and destruction. Spawn of the fallen.
“So you’d have me believe I’m one of these creatures?” Denial ran hot and potent in Jace’s blood. It was a long stretch from suspecting the truth to actually accepting it.
“You are a descendant of the Nephilim…or the Ancients, as they are now called. Most of the Nephilim were annihilated during the Great Flood. Those who survived went on to breed, and their offspring are now known as the Kleptopsychs.”
“And the Hybrids? Where do they come in?” He almost wished these guys had told him he was a vampire. That he could understand.
“The Hybrids are a mistake, a freak of nature. Technically, they’re not supposed to exist because a mating between a creature of darkness and a human almost always results in the human’s death. A kiss is all it takes to steal a human’s light.”
Jace searched Cal’s face for a sign that the guy was making some kind of tactless joke, found none. Disappointment coiled in his gut. “Please don’t try and sugarcoat the situation for me.”
“That’s why souls were divided,” Cal continued, undeterred. “To keep the gene pool from becoming polluted, as it was before the Great Flood. But then something quite unexpected happened. On those rare occasions when a human successfully mates with a descendent of the Nephilim, a Hybrid is born.”
“There are two things that can sustain life,” Marcus added. “One is a soul. The other is the dark energy that fuels the Nephilim. Logically speaking, darkness and light cannot coexist. Usually one wipes out the other, except where the Hybrids are concerned. Everyone here was born with a soul, but what makes us unique is that we can survive without it, like our soulless counterparts, because the same dark energy that keeps them alive courses through our blood.”
This was too much to take in all at once. What was he, human or Nephilim, good or evil, a product of angels or demons? “How much?” Jace’s jaw twitched. Ice crept up his spine to stiffen his back and shoulders. “How much cursed blood do I have running through my veins?”
“There’s no way to know.” Cal’s expression softened. “It really doesn’t make a difference. One drop is enough.”
Jace wasn’t sure if it was the soul he’d eaten for lunch yesterday or Lia’s presence that made his emotions spin out of control, but he desperately wanted to hit something, to kick the table and chairs until they splintered, to shatter windows and light fixtures and the assortment of TV screens decorating the walls.
The ground suddenly rumbled, and the stack of newspapers piled at one end of the conference table fell in a gray flutter to carpet the floor. Marcus took a cautionary step toward Jace, but Lia beat him to it. Reaching across the small space that divided them, she covered his hand with hers. Her warmth instantly traveled through him, a pacifying caress that chased all the black thoughts from his mind. For one halted heartbeat, nothing existed but her and the medley of sensations she triggered within him. Right there and then, he understood how even the angels could fall victim to a woman’s touch.
As much as he craved her heat, Jace found the willpower to yank his hand away. He didn’t have the right to touch her. She was pure light, and he was nothing but darkness. A creature born of sin, whose mere existence was a slap in God’s face.
He couldn’t remember if he’d ever believed in God. Something told him he hadn’t. Having faith would’ve implied admitting that God had forsaken him. There was only so much rejection a man could take and, according to Cal, he’d had more than his fair share.
“You’re a loose cannon, Cutler.” Disapproval gave Marcus a sharp, feral look that didn’t match his picture-perfect features. “You’ve got a truckload of untapped power inside you. If you don’t learn to control it, you could cause some serious damage. We can help you hone your abilities, show you the ropes, so to speak.”
“Why? What’s in it for you?” There was no goddamn way these guys didn’t have an angle. Everyone had an angle. He didn’t need his memories—or his soul—to know that.
“In case you haven’t guessed,” Marcus answered, “we’re in the middle of a war. The Kleptopsychs are growing their numbers so fast, we can barely keep up. The Hybrids are a rare breed. We need all the manpower we can get.”
A cold bucket of understanding doused Jace. “Are you trying to enlist me? Is that what this is about? Am I being drafted?”
“We are the Watchers.” Cal’s words resonated with unmistakable pride. “We watch over humankind, keep the corruption under control. Without us, the disease would spread at unimaginable speed. All of humanity is at risk.”
“You two are a real ray of sunshine, you know that?”
Neither of them seemed amused, particularly Cal. “Is this a joke to you, Mr. Cutler? Do you find our endeavor to keep humanity from obliterating itself funny?” An eerie shadow fell to paint his face gray. His expression grew pensive, distant and smoky. “Thousands of years ago, a terrible wrong was committed because God’s soldiers chose to be something they weren’t, and people are still paying the price.” Fierceness washed over him. Conviction thinned his mouth. “Dark days are coming. The Watchers—what’s left of us—are all that stands in the way.”
Everything became clear then. Cal was one of those manic-obsessive personalities who spun conspiracy theories centered on Armageddon, then recruited a bunch of mindless losers to fight a war that didn’t exist, thus fulfilling his own misguided prophecy.
“And if I refuse to join you?” He studied the layout of the room, wondered how quick he’d have to be to get Lia out of there before Cal and Marcus had a chance to react. Maybe he could plant a suggestion and hold them off for a minute or two. He wasn’t sure if he could take them both on at once, and what about the army of steroid-fed puppets roaming the halls? Would they pounce at the first sign of trouble?
“We won’t stop you if you choose to leave,” Cal reassured him. “But it would be a mistake.”
“Thanks for the heads-up.” Jace was done listening to this bullshit. He needed to get out of here, to fill his lungs with sweet-smelling air, to forget this condemned place and these so-called Watchers with their talk of angels and monsters.
“This is where you belong. The world out there”—Marcus nodded toward the door—“it’s no place for you anymore. Never really was.”
“How ’bout Lia?” Jace stabbed Marcus with a pointed look. “Does she belong here, too?”
“She can’t stay,” Cal answered, his tone laced with regret. “There’s too much negative energy on these grounds. No matter how strong a soul she is, eventually it will wear her down. I’ve seen it happen, and I wouldn’t wish that kind of fate on anyone.”
“So you expect me to send her out there alone, while you guys train me?”
Cal stood and walked to the window, where night had fallen like a black curtain to shroud the sky. “We’ll make sure she’s safe. I can mask her light, keep her out of the Kleptopsychs’ direct line of vision.”
“No fucking way.” The ground shuddered as Jace’s fury threatened to rage out of control again.
Marcus’s hands curled into fists, his body bent forward, every tendon rippling with the promise of violence. “Watch how you talk to him.”
“Or what? You and I will go another round?” Rocketing to his feet, Jace cocked his head in silent challenge. “Just remember who won last time.”
Cal turned away from the window and quickly went to stand between them. “Fighting among us is pointless. We’re a
ll on the same side.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.” Jace grabbed Lia by the hand and yanked her to her feet. “I’m on no one’s side but my own. If any of you come anywhere near me or Lia again, things will get ugly. That’s a promise.” With Lia safe at his side, he headed for the door.
“You don’t get it, do you, asshole?” Marcus really knew how to sweet-talk a guy. “You have no idea the shitload of danger you’re both in. They’re going to come after you.”
“Then I’ll fight them. Every last goddamned one of them.”
“Jace, please—” The broken look in Lia’s eyes was like a hook to the gut. He hardly knew her, yet he’d walk through hell and back for her. There were some things a man simply didn’t question, and this was one of them.
“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you,” he confessed in a muted tone. “I think you know that. But if I do what they want, if I join these vigilantes or whatever the hell they are, I’ll be painting a nice big bull’s-eye on the back of both our heads. I won’t do it. I won’t put you at risk.”
“It’s too late for that,” Marcus spat at them from across the room. Jace’s voice had barely risen above a whisper, yet the jerk had heard. “You’re already a target. It’s just a matter of time before she is, too. If they figure out what she has inside her—” He shook his head, let the sentence hang unfinished.
Marcus was probably right. Diane had already tried to kill him twice. But there was no way he’d leave Lia out there to fend for herself. Especially if there was a chance his enemies could uncover her connection to him.
“Thanks for the vote of confidence. It’s been a real blast.” He was about to push Lia out of the conference room and into the hall when the two heavy oak doors bracketing the entrance slammed shut, sealing them in.
“Let them go, Marcus.” Cal’s order rang clear and non-negotiable.
