Soul Bound: Dark Souls, Book 1

by Anne Hope

  “Sir, I really have to ask you to leave.” Wrapping her arms around her body, she backed into the counter behind her.

  “Don’t be afraid,” he soothed in a mellifluous voice he’d perfected over the centuries. “I’m not here to harm you. I just need some information.”

  Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes. “Please. Oh, God. Please.”

  “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but God gave up on humanity ages ago.”

  Vicious sobs shook her chest. She reached behind her, withdrew a butcher knife from a wooden rack and threatened him with it. “I swear I’ll use it.”

  “I have no doubt. You humans have a propensity for violence that boggles the mind. With or without our help.” Calling her bluff, he bridged the last few feet that separated them.

  True to her word, she attempted to run him through. The blade bounced off him as though it were made of rubber. Surprised, she dropped the knife, and it clattered against the black-and-white checkered floor. A high-pitched mewling sound rolled from her lips as she attempted to flee.

  With a flick of his wrist, he raised an invisible wall, then clutched her by the throat and pinned her against it. “Are we having fun yet?”

  The woman gasped. Kyros loosened his hold. The last thing he wanted was to suffocate her before she gave him the answers he sought, as tempting as the prospect was. He snaked his way into her mind, waded through a maze of jumbled thoughts. “A man and woman were in here four days ago,” he probed. “Their names are Lia Benson and Jace Cutler. I need to find them.”

  A memory pierced through the fog. In his mind, he saw them sitting at a table by the window, eating eggs and pancakes. “Did they by any chance mention where they were headed?”

  The waitress squeezed her eyes shut, shook her head. Kyros dug deeper. Discordant images flashed through his head—a credit card, a brochure, a picture of a stately white house surrounded by shrubs and sparkling water. “Where is it?” he asked. “The house you showed them?”

  “Siletz—” The woman choked on a whimper. “Siletz Bay. It’s—it’s the Cutler estate. When I saw his name, I thought—”

  Kyros released her, and she plunked like a bag of manure onto the pine-scented floor. Using only the force of his mind, he knocked her unconscious. When she awoke, she wouldn’t remember a thing. He made sure of it.

  Falling to a crouch beside her, he took a moment to contemplate her aura. It was bright, only slightly damaged. She hadn’t had an easy life, but she’d held on to hope. Silly creatures, these humans, always looking for that silver lining. If they only knew the truth, that they were God’s botched attempt at perfection, their misery would be absolute.

  Still, despite all her failings, this woman was lucky because she had the one thing he lacked—a soul. The need to steal it from her throbbed like a fresh wound in his chest. The longer he spent in her presence, the more insistent the hunger grew.

  He’d gotten what he’d come for—a lead. Now it was time to follow it.

  Light streamed into the room, thin filaments of sunshine that painted everything they touched gold. Beside her Jace stirred, and only then did Lia realize last night hadn’t been a dream. His sweet, musky scent enveloped her in a sheltering pocket of heat. Her skin still tingled wherever his hands had roamed, but the sensation ran deeper, to a place in her soul that had been dormant until now. Her chest was so full, she feared she’d burst. A strange current spilled from her pores and trickled over her flesh.

  “How do you feel?” Jace’s voice peeled away the lingering fingers of slumber.

  A smile fluttered over her lips as she nestled her head in the crook of his arm. “Wonderful.”

  He turned on his side to study her. “Are you sure? I didn’t—I didn’t take anything from you?”

  She shook her head in confusion. “What could you possibly take from me?”

  “I don’t know—a chunk of your soul.”

  “Mine or yours?”

  “Does it matter?”

  She burrowed deeper into his embrace. “No, because you didn’t take a thing from me. If anything, I feel stronger.”

  “So do I.” Closing his eyes, he feathered a kiss on the crown of her head. “That’s what worries me. How can I feel so complete if I didn’t take back what I lost?”

  “Maybe you don’t need to take it back. Maybe being together is enough.”

  He gripped her chin, angled her head until she looked into his gorgeous face. His thumb stroked her bottom lip as his gaze fastened on her mouth. “What have we done?”

  “I’m no expert, but I think it’s called making love.”

  His breath caressed her face, as sweet as strawberries ripening in the sun. “Is that what this is? Is a creature like me even capable of love?”

  Something inside her withered. She knew she loved him, had known since the moment he’d died on that gurney—not consciously, of course, but on a subconscious level, where soul and mind converged. Whether he felt the same way, she couldn’t say. When she looked in his eyes she saw it. Love. But were his feelings real or merely a reflection of her own? “You tell me.”

  He didn’t get a chance to answer. Regan suddenly materialized in the room, high on adrenaline. “Get up. Now! They’re coming.”

  In a futile attempt at propriety, Lia pulled the covers up to her chin. Jace, who wasn’t nearly as concerned with modesty, jackknifed in bed, prying his arm loose from her. Thankfully, the sheet he’d carelessly slung across his hips sometime in the middle of the night remained in place. “Who?”

  “The Kleptopsychs. We don’t have much time. I need to find David’s old gun.” And with that she vanished.

  Before Lia could exhale the breath lodged in her throat, Jace sprang to his feet and yanked on his pants and T-shirt. He froze, staring vacantly into the distance. “Get dressed.” His tone was non-negotiable. “They’re almost here.”

  Lia didn’t ask him how he knew. She took him at his word. Her heart pounding a thousand beats a minute, she bounded out of bed and rummaged through the backpack Regan had brought her the day before. As fast as she could, she slipped into a comfortable pair of chinos and a practical white blouse. Although this was her own clothing, a perfect fit as far as size was concerned, it felt wrong. Missing Regan’s old jeans and snug tank top, she followed Jace out of the bedroom.

  They found Regan wreaking havoc in David Cutler’s old office. “I know David kept a gun around here somewhere.” She pulled open drawer after drawer. “I think it was a .38-caliber revolver.”

  Jace hastened in to assist her. “I thought these guys were immune to bullets.”

  “Not if they’re soaked in angel’s blood,” Regan countered. “Usually we prefer knives. Blades are easier to coat and manipulate than bullets. But since we’re severely outnumbered and I’ve only got one vial of angel’s blood with me, we’ve got to make it count. A gun will help even the odds a bit.”

  Crossing the room to the bookcase, where an assortment of books and documents sat in neat piles, Jace joined the hunt.

  “I could’ve sworn he kept it in his desk,” Regan muttered. She yanked open another drawer but used a little too much force. The drawer and all its contents went plummeting to the ground. “I don’t understand. I’ve scanned the whole office, and I can’t see it, even with my famous x-ray vision.”

  Lia wasn’t sure what the woman was talking about, but she decided to join them. She scoured the walls for a hidden safe, found none. Her heart continued its spirited dance beneath her ribs. The idea of facing one of these creatures so soon after her encounter with the Rogues left her weak-kneed and clumsy. She tripped over the rug, fumbled for balance, then thought to check the floor. Maybe there was a secret opening beneath the floorboards. She fell to a crouch and prepared to search under the carpet, when something beneath the desk caught her eye—a hidden compartment.

  “I think I found something.”

  Lia pried the compartment open and withdrew a small box. Inside sat the revolver Reg
an had been adamant to find, along with several stacks of ammo.

  Examining the box, Regan shook her head and smiled a humorless smile. “Copper. The one substance our kind can’t see through. Well done, David,” she said scornfully.

  “Now what?” Jace asked, picking up the weapon.

  “Now we start smearing everything with blood,” his mother replied. “Got any rubber gloves? If either of us touches that stuff, our skin will peel right off.”

  “I’ll do it,” Lia offered.

  Regan pulled the vial from her pocket and handed it to her. Securing a firm hold on it, Lia proceeded to the kitchen, where she promptly gathered a wet cloth, a bowl and a basting brush. She unscrewed the cap and poured the reddish-brown liquid in the bowl.

  “Careful, don’t spill it,” Regan said, materializing beside her. “It’s all we’ve got.”

  One by one, Lia brushed the bullets with a thin coat of blood. “I didn’t realize angels bled,” she mused.

  “Only when they assume human or animal form,” Regan explained. “Otherwise they’re pure light. At least, that’s what I’ve been told.”

  “So does this mean angels still walk among us?” Beyond the window, the newborn sun slowly scaled the mountains.

  Regan turned a pair of doubtful eyes toward the sky. “If they do, I’ve never seen one.”

  Lia’s gaze drifted to the empty vial. “Then where does the blood come from?”

  “You’d have to ask Cal. Most of us are on a need-to-know basis. He rarely reveals his secrets to us.” She pulled three large knives from a drawer and handed them to Lia. “Coat these as well. We need all the weapons we can get.”

  Jace came crashing into the kitchen, his features chiseled in stone. “They’re close. I can feel them. It’s like this cold black hole just opened up.”

  Regan prowled to the window, scanned the perimeter. “The energy we give out is nothing compared to these guys. Especially when there’s a pack of them.” Overhead, clouds began to boil, gray and smoky. Lightning zipped across the sky. “This feels more like an army.” She turned to Lia. “Load the gun. Quickly.”

  Lia had never loaded a revolver before. Her hand shook as she struggled to open the cylinder. She shoved the bloody bullets in the chambers, the tips of her fingers prickling. Energy rippled across her skin, a burning sensation that told her this was no ordinary blood sample. Touching it made her feel sick, and she wasn’t the squeamish kind. Tamping down a shudder, she grabbed the damp rag and wiped the gun and her hands clean. Then she dutifully handed the revolver to Regan.

  The day crackled with an energy that didn’t feel right, even to Lia. Thunder suddenly boomed, and the walls quaked menacingly. In a flash, Jace was at her side, a blade gripped in either hand. “I have to get Lia out of here,” he told his mother, feral protectiveness lacing his tone.

  Regan shook her head. “They’ve got us surrounded. Our best bet is to stay together and try to fight them off. Up to the attic, pronto. A small space is better, with only one entrance to guard. Grab all the weapons you can and follow me.”

  The daze that had seized Lia shattered, and she picked up one of the blades and the rest of the ammo, battling to subdue her nerves. She didn’t know the first thing about fighting, but she knew she’d stand by Jace, go to war alongside him, even look hell in the eyes if necessary. Nothing would take him from her.

  Blackness sucked what little light lingered in the house. “What’s happening?” Lia’s hand tightened around her makeshift weapon as they raced upstairs.

  Regan dove into the attic, cocked the gun, and waited. “When there are so many Kleptopsychs together, they tend to affect the weather. They can cause hurricanes, tsunamis, tornadoes, you name it.”

  Rain suddenly fell to pummel the roof. “Damn,” Regan muttered. “I hate rain. The good news is, so do they.”

  A small tremor shook the ground. Regan’s shoulders stiffened, her index finger secured on the trigger. “I see them.”

  The woman’s low, ominous tone made ice crust along Lia’s spine, and she angled a glance out the window. “Where? I don’t see anything.”

  Beside her, Jace growled. “I do. They’re circling the house, coming in from the back.”

  Regan nodded approvingly. “So you’ve got the sight. Not all of us do, just the truly gifted ones.”

  Lia was completely lost. They may as well have been speaking in a foreign tongue. “What sight?”

  Jace pushed her behind him, his gaze trained on something she couldn’t see, his expression murderous. “I’ll explain later.”

  An explosion struck, so powerful it made Lia stagger back. A cold draft instantly swept in to submerge them. Then they were upon them, hordes of giants draped in black leather, their vacant stares harsh and unforgiving. One by one, they spilled into the room, too big for two of them to pass through the entrance at once. Regan had been right; a small space helped contain the battle and even the odds a bit.

  The sound of gunfire punctured the day, as shrill as the monsters’ startled cries when they began to go down. Regan was the gatekeeper, fierce at her task. Something told Lia she’d done this before. More than once.

  Jace joined the fight. He, too, looked like he’d been born for battle, his movements both graceful and precise. Without mercy, he struck down as many of their attackers as he could. One of the creatures managed to slip past him and began closing in on Lia, his eyes wild and hungry, his face dark with determination.

  Lia backed away, raised the knife, nausea rioting in her stomach. The creature lunged, and everything inside her froze. Acting on the most basic human instinct—survival—she ran him through. His agonized holler sent ice splinters shooting through her bloodstream as he crumpled to the ground. A black cloud rose from his body to dissolve in the air, after which all that remained of him was a shrunken carcass.

  Jace flung a glance over his shoulder. “You okay?”

  Lia couldn’t find her voice to reply.

  The room was covered in tendrils of black, foul-smelling smoke, the floor littered with mummy-like corpses. Her rational mind rebelled, screamed that none of this could be real.

  “Lia, snap out of it,” Jace cried. “More are coming. This was just their front line.”

  Regan suddenly tossed the revolver Lia’s way. “I’m out of bullets,” she told her. “Reload.”

  While Lia complied, Regan retrieved a dagger from her belt. Touching those bloody bullets again, feeling the burning metal sting the pads of her fingers, made Lia want to throw up. She hated this. Hated every second of it. And it was about to get much worse.

  The second wave poured in. With their arrival came an earth-shaking storm. Light fixtures blinked and trembled, boxes lifted from the floor, items flew off shelves to catapult across the attic. It was as if a poltergeist had just awakened, and it was royally pissed off. Lia had trouble enough holding her ground, let alone fighting for her life.

  “Shoot them!” Regan screamed, holding them back with nothing more than a blood-drenched blade. Lia hadn’t had a chance to return the gun to her before the creatures attacked again.

  Her gut in a clench, she fired a few rounds, missed. Four Kleptopsychs closed in on her. She compressed the trigger again, managed to take one down, but the rest were too quick. Then she was out of bullets. All she had left was the butcher knife.

  As if the creatures sensed her thoughts, the weapon suddenly flew from her grasp, leaving her defenseless. Fear snowballed inside her. The Kleptopsychs looked frighteningly intent. And hungry. Lia reached out to Jace with her mind.

  In less than a heartbeat he rushed to her side and incapacitated them with his blades. Briefly, his gaze brushed hers, full of worry and tenderness and love.

  Yes, love.

  There was no doubt in her mind—Jace Cutler loved her. He might have no past and no soul, but he loved her. Despite the hellish bind they were in, she couldn’t help but rejoice.

  “Uh, guys? I could use a little help here,” Regan, who was busy
fighting off two burly Kleptopsychs, called out from across the small room. Jace leapt to her aid. Working back-to-back, they cleared the attic in minutes.

  Regan pressed her back to the wall, panting. “If ever these guys get their hands on angel’s blood, we’re royally screwed. They fight like goddamn warriors.”

  “Was that the last of them?” Jace scanned the room, peering beyond the confines of its walls again.

  Regan’s brows puckered. “I’m not sure. I feel something.” Her gaze spun to Jace. “Do you feel that?”

  Jace nodded. “A black energy. Thick, more concentrated than the others.”

  All color drained from Regan’s face. “Shit. Kyros.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Before either Lia or Jace could ask her to elaborate, a rhythmic clapping filled the small space. “Bravo.”

  All eyes turned to the man—or more precisely, monster—crossing the threshold of the attic. He was as big as the rest of them, square and broad, with olive-toned skin and irises so pale they were almost white.

  Regan instantly lunged toward him, dagger poised for battle, but the Kleptopsych raised his hand and she went catapulting across the room. Jace, following his mother’s example, rushed the creature from behind, but again Kyros raised his hand and Jace flew in the opposite direction. He regained his ground, prepared to attack once more, but Kyros spun around and Jace hit the floor to writhe in agony.

  “You worthless piece of vermin,” the creature spat. “Do you not know who I am? I am Kyros, the firstborn son of Athanatos himself. And you dare to challenge me?”

  Jace’s face became a mask of pain.

  Regan appeared behind the creature, but he sensed her and sent her flying out the attic window. A scream tore loose from Lia’s throat before she remembered that Regan couldn’t be killed by a mere fall.

  Jace clambered to his knees, but Kyros twisted his hand and he doubled over again. Lia’s fingers clenched the gun she still held, even though it was empty and completely useless now.

  “Stop it,” she screamed. Sweat dampened her cheeks. “I don’t care who the hell you are.”