Soul Catcher (13 page)

Chapter Fifteen

Angel loved the Emilio Pucci design even though it looked as if a box of Crayolas threw up on her. The bright blues and yellows of the form fitting dress gave her a tropical vibrancy. To finish off the ensemble, she pulled her hair back into a slick ponytail garnished with yellow and white Dendrobium Orchids. The strappy, blue custom-made Emanuel Ungaro heels served a dual purpose— complimenting her outfit and the silver plated four-inch stiletto made a great stake.

Her yellow Michael Kors Zuma Leather Satchel weighed a ton with all her weapons inside. She had to carry a larger purse than she liked. The dress left no room to hide any weapons. Laurent’s tailor designed special hidden pockets for her gun and daggers in the lining of her larger purses. Damn, the purse was heavy when fully loaded.

Jacque slouched on the red leather sofa, concern plastered on his face. She promised to be careful. It didn’t comfort him. She understood his fear. Her lunch churned relentlessly in her stomach. Her hands felt like a damp mop from the sweat. Inside, she was a tight knot of anxiety. On the outside, she painted on a brave face.

“Someone should call the color police on you,” Laurent shouted from the bar, trying to break the tension in the room.

“Oh, shut up. What the hell do you know about fashion?” She stuck her tongue out at him.

“You look ravishing. Actually, too good. Where’s your weapons. I know they’re not in your dress. You’re barely hiding body parts in that thing.” Jacque’s eyes roamed over her disapprovingly.

“They’re in my purse. Don’t worry. I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.” She attempted make light of the situation, but it didn’t quite come through.

“Famous last words. Where’s he taking you?”

“Emeril’s Delmonico and then to Utopia.”
How much trouble can I get into at a public place?
She figured she could do the deed and stake him when he dropped her off for the night. It could replace the good night kiss.

“We’ll be around in case you need help. Don’t try anything stupid. Antione’s dangerous and smart. He’ll kill you if he figures this out before you can stake him.”

“Yeah, yeah. We’ve been over this a thousand times today. I get it.” She played off her nervousness. Jacque made things worse with all his warnings.

He guided her down on the sofa. His petal soft lips grazed the curve of her neck. “I can’t lose you. I
won’t
lose you. Stay alive. Understand?” For the first time, she understood and accepted the depth of Jacque’s feelings for her.

The doorbell caused everyone to jump. Standing, she straightened her dress and shooed Jacque and Laurent out the patio door. She touched the diamond key pendant around her neck and prayed the spell worked before opening the front door.

Wearing a dangerous grin, Antione consumed her with his eyes. “You like?” She turned slowly, allowing Antione time to soak in her image.

“I’ve never seen anything more beautiful in all my two-hundred fifty years. I’m indeed a lucky man.” Offering his arm to her, he escorted her to the waiting limousine.

She slid into the seat with Antione so close, she felt the cool clamminess of his skin. His hand brushed against her thigh and sent a disturbing wave of queasiness to the pit of her belly. The feeling was danger masked in excitement.

His arm dangled around her shoulder as it rested along the back of the seat. When he drew her near, the knot in the pit of her stomach contracted. She wanted to slap his hand away, but instead forced a smile on her face.

Angel felt like a prostitute, using her body to pay for her beauty. Luring men into a trap to kill them and deliver them to Lucifer. Who cared if they were evil? Was being beautiful worth all this trouble? The grass on this side quickly started to brown.

“Ms. Dias, what brings you back to New Orleans?” His voice was harsh and grating.

“I missed home. No matter how long I stay away, New Orleans will always be home to me,” she answered truthfully.

“You were lovely on the cover of
Vogue
.”

She cut her eyes to him. She didn’t trust him, and he apparently felt the same way about her. She thought only women Googled their dates. “Huh, you found my issue?”

“I was curious. I did some research.”

“Did you now? And what did you find?”

“Not much more than I already knew. I was very interested to read about your horrible car accident. I can’t say those photos did you any justice.” He ran a finger along the line where her scar once resided. “You must have an excellent surgeon.”

“You know, you French can work miracles.” She pulled away from him. The reminder of her prior affliction made her jaw tense, and his hands on her made her feel dirty.

The ride to Delmonico’s was taking longer than usual. She peered out the window to get oriented and didn’t recognize her surroundings. Delmonico’s was in the heart of the French Quarter on Saint Charles Avenue. They were crossing the Greater New Orleans Bridge, heading away from the Quarter.

Panic rose in her. She pushed it back. Remaining calm was vital to her survival. She crossed her legs and turned to Antione. “Where are we going? The restaurant is the other direction.”

“Restaurants are so crowded. I wanted you all to myself tonight. Forgive my selfishness.” The bitter sweetness of his tone had a sickening effect on her.

Crossing her arms across her chest, she stared at him. “Where are we going?”

“To my place.”

Her lips pierced into a thin line and glared at him. “I’m not sure how I feel about going to your house. I’m not a sleep-with-you-on-the-first-date kind of girl.”

“I have no interest in sleeping.”

“Then what is it you think we’re going to do?”

“Dinner, my dear. I invited you to dinner. No need to be alarmed.”

“I don’t like surprises.” She watched the scenery out the window, noting where he took her. Last thing she needed was to be stranded in the middle of nowhere and not know how to get out.

Antione went silent. Angel prayed. She might have lost some of her clout when she made a pact with the Devil, but she prayed anyway.

After crossing the river, she guessed they were on RT90 heading toward the I10. They drove quite some time, until the car turned down a small lane and a gorgeous plantation house appeared before them. She recognized it from a tour she took when she was in school called “The Great Plantations of the South” tour.

The moon cast a silver-blue glow behind the antebellum-style mansion. One might think it romantic if she wasn’t planning to kill the man who brought her here. Antione studied her every move. He suspected something. She didn’t know how much he knew. She would play along until she staked his cold, undead ass.

“Is this your place?” she questioned, wanting to break the silence between them.

“It’s been in my family for generations. I grew up here. The family lost it to the North in the Civil War. Once I regained my hold in the world, I purchased it back and restored it to its original glory.” He almost sounded nostalgic, until an undercurrent of hate seeped through his words.

“It’s beautiful. Can’t wait to see inside.”

The car came to a halt on the circular drive. The chauffeur opened the door and helped Angel out the car. Antione took her arm and strolled into the house. She absorbed her surroundings, hoping Jacque and Laurent followed them from the house. With her luck, they probably decided to go play pool and get drunk.

Inside the house, the grand hall reminded her of a scene from
Gone with the Wind
. At times, she felt like she and dear sweet Scarlet were kindred spirits. Tonight, she recognized all Scarlet’s glaring flaws, self-centeredness, stubbornness, and jealousy, which weren’t much different from hers. If she got out of this alive, she was definitely going to make some changes in her life.

Her heels clicked on the wide-plank pine floors as he showed her to the parlor. The navy blue silk draperies provided a stark contrast against the butter-cream walls. Taking a seat on the plum colored settee, she clutched her purse to her side.

Antione opened the doors of a antique armoire. “Would you like a drink before dinner?”

“Sure. A martini would be great.” Maybe a drink would take the edge off. Her heart pounded so loud she swore he could hear it.

He mixed the drink with expertise. Setting it down on the coffee table, he took a seat next to her. Antione took a swig of his whiskey and ran the cold, moist glass up her exposed thigh. She wished she picked a different outfit. Her dress provided little coverage and sucked when it came to fighting.

“Would you like me to take your purse for you?” he asked staring at her breasts.

“No, no. It’s fine. You know a girl and her purse is hard to part.” She clutched it to her side on the settee.

“Very well then. Are you comfortable?” The ice-filled glass slid along her arm, making her shiver involuntarily.

“Oh, sure.” Her voice trembled. She had difficulty hiding her disgust. Maybe he would mistake it for lust. Either way things were going badly for her.

Antione downed his drink. Standing, he snatched Angel by the hand, dragging her out the room.

“What the hell are you doing?” She yanked her arm from him, but his fingers only dug deeper into her flesh. “Let me go!” She dug her heels into the floor trying to slow him down.

“Shut-up, bitch. You come here flaunting yourself and now find some modesty?” He smashed her hard against the banister. Angel’s shoulder cracked, sending searing pain down her arm and back.

“What’re you talking about? Have you lost your mind?” The glassy haze in his eyes answered her question.

“You sluts are all the same. Taunting and teasing, then pulling away. If you want no to mean
no
, then you might rethink your wardrobe. If you act like a whore, you should be fucked like one.” Madness raged in his voice. With each word he spoke, he fell deeper into his own insanity.

She bounced off the steps like a rubber ball as he dragged her upstairs. Clawing for the railings with her free hand, Angel tried to get away from his iron clasp. She kicked and flailed with little success. Blood dripped down the side of her face when her head slammed into the top step. Everything faded out of focus and then she floated into the darkness.

Chapter Sixteen

Angel awoke to a hellish nightmare. Dangling from the ceiling by a chain with her feet barely skimming the floor, her eyes adjusted to the darkness. Her wrists were chaffed by the cuffs, and her arms felt as if they might pop out the sockets. The pain in her shoulder radiated down the right side of her body. Looking down, she sighed in relief to see her clothes were still on. The only thing missing were her shoes—potential weapons. Antione was no dummy.

Breathing was a challenge as she twisted on the chain. Her lungs struggled to expand, most likely from the injury she’d gotten from being dragged up the stairs. She lifted her head and glanced around the room. She had landed in a scene from a bad BDSM movie. A large round bed sat in the middle of the room, covered with a red satin comforter. On the long black lacquer dresser, an assortment of whips, gags, and restraints lay waiting to exact their punishment.

Light filtered through the door as it creaked open, and Antione slithered into the room. The chains rattled as a tremor ripped through Angel’s body as she watched him inch closer to her. Fear penetrated her core as he picked up the leather whip when he passed assorted torture devices. His eyes still held the crazed manic expression from earlier in the night. She flinched as he ran the hilt of the whip down the front of her torso, lingering a moment in the valley between her breasts. Bile raised in her throat when he trailed the cracked leather handle along the hem of her dress then between her legs. The shackles cut into her wrists as she swung back, trying to escape Antione’s repulsive touch.

“I’m glad to see you’re awake, my dear,” he sneered.

“What’re you planning to do to me? You sick, dead fuck!” Fear and rage exploded inside of her. “Let me down from here!”

“We haven’t had a chance to play yet.” The straps of the leather whip seared like electric eels as they wound around Angel’s calf. Her scream bounced off the empty walls as she arched back in pain.

“You can kiss my ass,” she growled, pulling herself up on the chains. “When I get down from here, you’ll regret ever touching me.” Tears streamed down her face, a mixture of anger and torment. The leather tendrils of the whip coiled around her throat this time, drawing blood.

“You’ll be the one with regrets, my dear. You’ll regret the day you decided to make a deal with Lucifer.” Retrieving a pearl-handled dagger off the dresser, he slashed the dress off her body. It fell in a pool of color to the floor.

The lust grew in his eyes as he watched her swing from the chain in her bra and thong. Repulsed, she wanted to cover herself, instead she kicked at Antione. He snatched her by the ankle and pressed the dagger down her calf, forcing her to stop fighting. The cold stainless steel blade of the knife traced a path up her thigh. He halted at her lace thong, waiting, for what she didn’t know. Angel closed her eyes, prayed and hoped for mercy.

Time had run out.

Waiting to be rescued was no longer an option. If she wanted to live, it was left up to her to find a way. As she gazed around the room, she caught a glimpse of the moon through a small slit in the black curtains. The answer revealed itself. Focusing through the pain of Antione slicing small slits into her arm and the grotesque moisture of his tongue licking the dripping blood, she found the motivation to call upon her powers.

She tilted her head back, letting out a roar, and called the elements. Thunder rumbled in the sky and a bolt of lightning flashed behind the curtain. She summoned the lightning to her, feeling the surge of electricity. Antione sensed the intense energies and backed away.

Sparks flew as lightning struck the chains suspending her from the ceiling. The metal gave away upon impact. Angel dropped to the floor. Her body hummed as the electricity surge through her veins. He froze like a statue. Energy flowed from her fingertips, blasting Antione and forcing him to the ground. As he lay convulsing on the floor, she ran.

Turn back and finish him
, the words echoed in her mind, but fear pushed her to keep moving. Escape was the goal, to get as far away as possible. The pine planks felt rough against Angel’s bare feet. Stumbling down the stairs, she made it to the front door. As her hand reached for the knob, her head snapped back as Antione snatched her by her ponytail.

She swung around and landed a right hook to Antione’s jaw, but he didn’t flinch. Fisting another handful of her hair, he yanked her to him. In a futile attempt to survive, she shoved, scratched, and kicked, trying to inflict harm to the crazed vamp.
Must get to my purse
. She had to get to the parlor, to her weapons.

Her teeth sank into Antione’s arm. He recoiled in pain and brought the back of his hand across her cheek. Angel tumbled into the wall on the other side of the foyer. Gathering her strength, she darted into the sitting room, hoping her purse was still there. At the entrance of the parlor, he tackled her from behind. A human could never outrun a vampire. She would have to fight.

Angel threw punches, not caring where they landed. She backed into the room. Her purse sat on the settee. As she dived for the sofa, he caught her around the waist. Antione trapped her against him. He jerked her head back, grazing his fangs along her jugular. Before he plunged the pointy canines into her flesh, the front door burst open, distracting him.

Relief washed over her when Jacque plowed through the door with Laurent following close behind. Antione clutched her tighter to him and spun to face the intruders. Relief shifted back to fear. Jacque stopped, his breathing labored, his face contorted, and rage glowing red in his eyes. His strong legs stood slightly bowed, the moon cast a silvery-blue aura about him as he gripped his broadsword so tight his knuckles stretched taunt and white. Tonight, he was a demon, her demonic Prince Charming, coming to her rescue.

“You move another inch, and I’ll tear her throat out,” Antione threatened and ran his tongue along her neck.

The heat of Jacque’s anger radiated throughout the room. “You fuckin’ hurt her and you’ll pay for the rest of eternity.” Laurent stood poised behind him, his cool blue eyes turned fire engine red.

Antione’s fang pierced her ear. She gasped from surprise and pain. “Eventually, I’ll land in Hell anyway. This way, I take a guest with me.” He slowly slid her across the parlor, adding distance between them and Jacque.

“
Nique ta mère
. They were right to string you up by your neck when you were human.” Jacque never took his eyes off them. “But some idiot vampire decided he was hungry and didn’t get to finish his meal before they came to bury you. You’ve continued raping and killing for the last two hundred and fifty years. It stops today.”

“Ah. They all wanted it, even our Angel here. What self-respecting woman dresses like a whore to go out on a date? Look at her.” Antione jerked Angel hard against him, while he continued to back toward the windows. He ran the dagger down the front of her, stopping at her navel.

They were at an impasse. She waited for an opportunity to escape. Antione held the knife pressed firmly to her abdomen limiting her options. As they backed away, Jacque matched every step Antione took. A low, animalistic growl escaped him as he prowled in a semi-circle, balancing the weight of his sword in front of him. Laurent flanked the opposite side, closing in on them.

Due to keeping an eye on Jacque and Laurent, Antione stumbled over the settee. Angel seized the opportunity. She rammed her elbow into Antione’s side. With all the force she could muster, she slammed her head back into his chin. Once he released his hold, she jumped out of reach. As she rounded the settee, Jacque’s sword sliced the air, slashing Antione’s chest and striking the arm of the sofa. Unable to dislodge his weapon, Jacque pounced on Antione like a tiger attacking an antelope.

Fists flew in a tangled mess. Angel struggled against Laurent as he pulled her away from the battle. Jacque powered a blow, throwing Antione to the other end of the room. Antione picked his dagger off the floor. He rushed at Jacque, tackling him to the ground. Antione fought with the ferociousness of a rabid animal. Moonlight glistened off the blade of the dagger. A howl pierced the night. Horror penetrated her heart. Jacque collapsed to the floor with the dagger jutting from his chest.

The screams echoed in Angel’s head until she realized they came from within her. Her heart pounded out of her chest, threatening to explode. She lunged out of Laurent’s arms and ran to Jacque’s side. The threat of loss enflamed an inferno of rage inside of her and escaped in a bellowed call to the spirits. Revenge powered her actions.

The winds shattered the windows in a shower of glass and wood. Lightning incinerated the settee. Everyone but Angel stood petrified in awe. She plucked Jacque’s sword from the floor. She savored Jacque’s lingering energy and wrapped both hands securely around the hilt. Antione turned to run, but ice crystals encased his legs, trapping him in place.

“See you in Hell, motherfucker,” she hissed through her teeth as she swung the sword above her head, bringing it down in one swift defining blow. The blade sliced through his neck as easy as a hot knife through butter. When Antione’s head rolled to her feet, she kicked it away in disgust.

The sword fell heavy from her hands. Angel ran to Jacque as he lay on the floor, blood pooling around him. She knelt down beside him, pulled him onto her lap and brushed the curls from his face. Cupping his face, she kissed him softly.

“Hey, babe.” He smiled up at her. “Nice. You took his head in one swing.”

“I learned from the best.” She trembled as she kissed his forehead, forcing a grin.

“Sorry I didn’t get here sooner.” A tear fell from the corner of his eye.

“You got here just in time.” She wiped the moisture from his face. Her breathing became ragged as the tears flowed freely.

“
Ma chère
, don’t cry. Did he
hurt
you?”

“No. He didn’t have a chance. I got free before....” She wiped her tears falling on Jacque’s face, hating herself. Always a day late and a dollar short. As he lay dying in her arms, Angel realized she loved him.

Laurent kneeled next to her, placing a firm hand on her shoulder, providing his support. “Hey, dude. You look like shit.”

The pain in his eyes, betrayed the lightheartedness in his words. Jacque’s laugh turned into a cough, spewing blood onto the floor.

“Look, buddy. Hold still,” Laurent ordered in a hushed tone. “I would remove the knife, except I’m afraid it might do more damage. I’m gonna go for help. You’ll be fine.” The futility of the situation was evident on his face.

“We all know there’s no need to go for help. It’s too late.” Jacque twined his fingers through Angel’s, kissing her hand. “Hey, man, take care of her for me.” He closed his eyes and smiled. “Now, just let me be with my Angel.”

A tear slid down Laurent’s cheek. His blue eyes still held a hint of red. Standing, he kicked Antione’s head so hard it flew out the window. He turned and exited the room, leaving them alone. Angel gathered Jacque in her arms, holding him to her breasts. She brought her lips to rest on his. The sweet, metallic taste of his blood brushed the tip of her tongue. He tensed at her touch.

“Babe,” he whispered. “Promise me you’ll take care of yourself. I don’t want you ending up with Luc. Promise me.” Exhaustion and fear penetrated his calm demeanor.

She would tell him anything at this moment to alleviate his anguish. “I promise.”

“I know this is bad timing, but I need you to know I love you.” His voice was barely audible. “You know, it’s the first time I ever said those words to anyone.” He gazed at her with peace and contentment.

“Yeah, really bad timing. Don’t worry. If it was any other time, I wouldn’t have believed you.” She fingered his dark curls. His angelic smile broke her heart.

“What a pair we make.” His breathing slowed, becoming more labored. She tasted his lips again, lingering, not wanting to let him go. Her pain ravaged him. He answered her kiss with the same passion.

Flames burst all over Jacque’s body.
Déjà vu
. The heat seared her arms, yet she refused to let him go.

“You can’t have him!” she screamed at the fire consuming them. Laurent ran into the room, prying her arms from around Jacque. Laurent dragged her from the room crying and kicking as she watched the flames engulf Jacque until he was no more.

Outside, Laurent held her close to him, sharing her grief. He wrapped a coat around her as she sat on the steps in her bra and panties. Misery seeped through her pores. Exhaustion beat her down as Laurent picked her up and placed her in the car. She curled in the passenger seat, closed her eyes, and searched for Jacque in her dreams.