Soul Deep: Dark Souls, Book 2 (3 page)

Chapter Four

Marcus lumbered into Cal’s office without bothering to knock. “Tell me the truth. Is the kid a threat?” He’d come straight here after leaving Regan’s room, driven by the overriding compulsion to get some answers.

Cal sat at his massive wooden desk, staring vacantly at the wall. At the sound of Marcus’s voice he jolted to awareness. “Come in. I’ve been expecting you.”

Marcus had always admired his leader’s ability to anticipate future events, but right now it served only to irritate him. Feeling like a belligerent child about to be scolded, he did as he was told, dropping into the welcoming lap of the black leather chair facing Cal’s desk.

“I want answers,” he insisted. “What did you and Jace discuss that you didn’t want me to hear?”

Cal leaned back in his chair with deliberate slowness, studying him with piercing gray eyes. “You’ve often challenged me, Marcus, but I’ve never known you to be impertinent.”

“And you’ve never shut me out before. I thought we were a team. What changed?” He didn’t mean to sound ungrateful. If there was anything Cal deserved, it was respect. The man had literally saved his life. He’d taken in an enemy, absolved him of his crimes and ultimately turned him into his most trusted soldier. He’d given him purpose, a mission, a home.

But even gratitude and respect had their limits. If Cal had decided to replace him as his second-in-command, he sure as hell was going to tell him why.

“Nothing’s changed.” Beyond the window, clouds began to gather, stealing the light from the stark, utilitarian room. “There’s no one I trust more than you.”

“Then tell me what’s going on.”

Cal sighed and rubbed his eyes, looking suddenly weary. “I wish I knew.” He stood and walked over to the tall window, gazing past the cliffs at the unpredictable sky. “The only certainties are that the boy’s soul is whole and, like Lia’s, it was forged by an archangel.”

Marcus couldn’t say he was surprised by Cal’s assertion. He’d surmised as much himself. “How is this possible, when it was decided ages ago that no human would be granted a full soul again?”

“That is the question that has tortured me since the moment I laid eyes on the child.”

Uneasiness tightened in Marcus’s gut, and he couldn’t help but frown. “Doesn’t it strike you as odd that there hasn’t been a twin soul since the Great Flood, and all of a sudden we’ve come across two in the same year, both of archangel descent?”

Cal’s mouth hardened, and he nodded. “The thought has crossed my mind.”

For years Cal had preached about the end of the world, the Apocalypse, the final showdown. He firmly believed that, if left unchecked, their enemies would someday trigger a cataclysmic event that would obliterate humanity, and he considered it his duty—his destiny—to prevent that from happening.

The clouds thickened, completely suffocating the sun, and gray shadows swept in to blanket the concrete floor. Marcus stared at his leader’s back, anxiety rippling across his nerve endings. “It’s starting, isn’t it?”

Cal walked away from the window and returned to his desk, his features grimmer than the impending storm. “Quite possibly. And if it is, we have to do everything in our power to stop it.”

It rained for two days straight. Thick, boiling clouds kept pouring in from the west and unleashing their fury. After being cooped up for days, Ben had grown restless and belligerent, especially given the countless tests Cal insisted on performing on him.

“Concentrate on the metal, see it bending in your mind.” Cal clasped a tablespoon between his thumb and forefinger, while Ben sat across the desk from him, looking bored and glum.

“I don’t want to do this anymore. Can I go play?”

Regan placed a comforting hand on the boy’s shoulder and aimed a beseeching glance at her leader. “He’s tired. Can’t we give it a rest?”

 
Cal had been at it for hours, trying to get Ben to mold his surroundings with the power of his will alone, whether it was to displace objects, influence the outcome of a coin toss or bend a spoon in half.

“I can’t.” Cal’s tone was adamant. “I refuse to make the same mistake I made with Lia.”

“We need to understand what he’s all about.” Marcus leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his broad chest, watching the scene with aloof curiosity.

Regan bristled. “What you mean to say is that you’re trying to determine if he’s a Hybrid.”

If the boy passed Cal’s medley of tests, he’d kill him in order to turn him, the same way he’d once threatened to kill her unborn son. Only when a Hybrid died and his soul left his body did he uncover his true potential, and only then could he live among the Watchers. As long as Ben had a soul, the negative energy the Watchers gave off risked damaging it.

“If he is, then he’s better off here with us. No matter how hard a Hybrid tries to fit in, he can never belong out there.” Marcus gestured to the world beyond the windows.
 

On a cognitive level, she knew he was right. The human world could be a devastating place for a Hybrid child. Hybrids, like Kleptopsychs, gave off a negative energy that brought out the worst in people. Before they turned, these children were often bullied and abused, even murdered, sometimes by their own parents. If Ben was indeed a Hybrid, the best thing they could do for him was rid him of his soul and keep him here at the complex, where he’d be safe.

Why then did some visceral instinct tell her that turning him would be a mistake? Why did she feel this child’s soul was important, that it needed to be preserved?

“Focus,” Cal urged the boy. “I know you can do it.”

Ben’s mouth curled into an impressive pout. “Leave me alone.”

With an exasperated huff, Cal dropped the spoon on his desk. “The kid refuses to cooperate.”

Marcus, who’d spent the better part of the day as a simple observer, finally left his perch by the wall and came to retrieve the spoon, rolling it between his fingers. “Hey, kid, think fast.” With impressive speed, he flung the utensil at Ben.

Ben lifted his hand in a defensive gesture that was purely instinctive. The spoon stopped midair, then plunked onto the concrete floor. Marcus bent at the waist and picked it up, a wide smile tugging at his sensual mouth. Satisfied, he raised it for all to see.

A slow slide of dread rolled through Regan. The metal was bent beyond recognition.
 

Chapter Five

Marcus found Regan standing at the top of one of the numerous cliffs that barricaded the Watchers’ complex, staring down at the sea, her features pinched with concentration. The rain had finally stopped, but dampness still hung in the salt-laden air. A thin mist hugged her feminine figure, making moisture bead on her skin. She looked intangible, as elusive as the fog encompassing her. Regan was so strong and capable, he sometimes forgot how delicate she was.

The sight of her standing so close to the edge triggered all his protective instincts, and something else—the forbidden desire to touch. “Penny for your thoughts,” he said, burying his fists in his jacket pockets, where they wouldn’t be tempted to stray.

She smiled but didn’t turn to look at him. “Is that all they’re worth?”

“You drive a hard bargain. How ’bout a quarter?”

She laced her arms across her chest as the sun slowly set behind red-hued clouds. “What’s going to happen to him, Marcus?”

He didn’t have to ask her who she meant. Ever since they’d found Ben cowering in that kitchen, the boy had dominated her thoughts, maybe even her heart. Marcus had never believed it was possible for their kind to love, but recently he’d been forced to revisit that assumption. He’d seen it firsthand with Jace and Lia, and now he was seeing it again with Regan. Maybe one didn’t necessarily need to have a soul in order to love. Maybe just the echo of it was enough, similar to a phantom limb that continued to throb long after it was severed.

“Cal hasn’t come to any decisions yet,” he told her.

A brisk breeze blew, sending her curls rioting around her face. Again, he was seized by the urge to reach out to her, to smooth back her hair, to run the pad of his thumb across her mouth.

A mouth meant to be kissed.

He gave himself a mental kick, focused his attention on the churning waves below. He had no business kissing Regan. No business even thinking about it. When he’d taken the blood vow, he’d made a conscious choice to swear off sex, same as all those who bore the Watchers’ mark.

Only Jace and Lia seemed exempt from this oath, and Marcus couldn’t for the life of him figure out why. He’d seen Cal punish his followers for far less a crime. If there was one thing his leader demanded, it was absolute loyalty.

Regan picked up a pebble, then flung it over the cliff into the restless ocean. “Do you believe in destiny?”

The question took him off guard. “I’m not sure. I know Cal swears by it.”

“I didn’t ask about Cal. I asked about you.” She ran her fingers through her hair, exactly as he’d imagined himself doing. “Cal’s always preaching about fate, and for the most part, I believe him. But deep down, there’s this inkling of doubt, and it gets me thinking sometimes. If everything really is preordained, what happens to free will? Does it even exist or are we just being strung along?”

“When did you go all philosophical on me?”

She inhaled deeply, drawing his attention to the gentle swell of her breasts. Ignoring the kick beneath his ribs, he looked past her, fixing his gaze on the rocky shore again.
 

“I don’t know,” she said. “I’ve been having this feeling lately, like there’s something I’m supposed to do, but I’m not sure what that is. I only know it involves Ben. He’s important somehow.”

He’d been having the same feeling, but he refrained from telling her. The last thing he wanted was for her to grow even more obsessed with the boy. In their world, obsession and impulsiveness often spelled disaster.

“Regan, you need to trust Cal to do the right thing. You know the drill—no Watcher can deviate from the plan. If you do anything, anything that compromises the mission, you will be labeled a Rogue. And you know better than anyone how the Watchers deal with Rogues.”

They hunted them down and exterminated them. The idea of that happening to Regan tore a painful strip out of him. He’d spent too many years training her, working alongside her, fighting to keep her alive, to lose her now. Had she been capable of reading his thoughts, she would’ve argued that she was the one always bailing him out of trouble, and she would’ve been right. She’d saved him more times than he could count. They were a team, more in tune than most, able to regenerate each other with nothing more than a touch, thanks to the Watchers’ bond.

The truth was, he couldn’t picture his life without her.

Losing the battle, he clasped her arms and turned her to face him. “Promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”

She tensed at his touch, inclined her head to look at him. “Define stupid.”

Those sweet-looking lips hovered inches below his, too damn appealing to ignore. Right there and then, standing at the edge of a deadly overhang ensnared by Regan’s smoky gaze, Marcus understood the precise meaning of stupidity.

He was tempted to demonstrate, but he didn’t. Releasing her, he secured a safe distance between them. “Just think before you act. That’s all I ask.”

She visibly deflated, and he could’ve sworn disappointment momentarily flittered across her face. Above them, the sun’s dying rays struggled to pulse against a sky determined to suffocate them. Regan grabbed another pebble and sent it whizzing through the air with a note of finality. “Thinking is overrated.”

A bitter laugh rumbled in his throat. If he wasn’t so damned disciplined, he would’ve agreed.

Cal sat in his office, tracing the beloved carvings on the ancient silver band he wore, drawing great comfort from the soft, fluid strokes.
 

A comfort that was abruptly shattered when the air crackled, and a fissure rent the atmosphere. A tall, familiar figure stood at the heart of his office, swathed in moonlight and shadows.
 

He stared at the apparition, half convinced he’d finally lost his mind. “Lillith?” He waited for the vision to fade, for the insanity to pass, but it persisted.

“How sweet of you to remember.” The sound of her voice left no doubt that she was indeed real. “I feared you wouldn’t.”

Consternation rippled through him. He hadn’t seen his old lieutenant since the Great Flood, when the Seraphim Council had imprisoned the fallen in the third layer of heaven for mating with mortals and spawning the Nephilim.

 
Only Cal had been allowed to remain on earth.
 

He stood and approached her. “What’s happened? Has the council released the others as well?”

A shadow passed behind her eyes, and he knew whatever she was about to say wouldn’t be good. “They didn’t release me, Calliel. I escaped.”

It took a few seconds for her words to register, and when they did, their full meaning struck him with all the wrath of heaven. “Are you out of your mind? They’ll hunt you down, destroy you. There is no place in heaven or on earth where they won’t find you.”