Soul Deep: Dark Souls, Book 2 (6 page)

The fire returned, and she met his glance straight-on, all traces of uncertainty vanishing. “I don’t have a choice.” Regret roughened her voice. “I’m all he’s got.”

Marcus didn’t want to have to apply force, but there was no way in hell he’d let her go off on a suicide mission. His hand glided to the hilt of his dagger, a blatant threat.

“What are you going to do?” she challenged. “Cut me?”

“You know I will if I have to.” He’d used his blade on her once before, in the catacombs. She’d been determined to remain behind to search for Jace, even as the tunnels caved in around them. If he hadn’t wounded her to weaken her, she could’ve been buried alive. “Don’t make me hurt you again.” His words hovered between a warning and a plea. “Come back to the complex with me.”

Conflicting emotions contorted her features as silence swelled between them. Ultimately, compassion triumphed over reason. “I’m sorry, Marcus. I can’t. He needs me.”

Damn, the woman was stubborn. With an aggravated sigh, he unsheathed his dagger. “Fine. Have it your way.”

She turned to run but only made it as far as the rippling fence of cottonwoods behind her. She stopped dead in her tracks, backed up. An army of Watchers poured from the trees to surround her and Ben. It looked like Cal hadn’t trusted him to retrieve the boy, so he’d sent out the cavalry.

Regan scrambled around, looking for something she could use to her advantage. The trees began to shake as she willed them into motion. A shower of buds fell to blanket them, temporarily obstructing their vision. A few Watchers advanced on her, cutting through the swirling curtain of foliage, their weapons poised for attack. Regan tried to stop them by raising an invisible wall, but they quickly dismantled it and kept forging ahead.

“I’ve got it covered,” Marcus called to the others, but they didn’t retreat. They had their orders, and they wouldn’t stop until they carried them out.

The situation was quickly spiraling out of control and—short of outright mutiny—there wasn’t a darn thing he could do to stop it. This was exactly what he’d been afraid of. The fool woman was going to get herself killed.

Regan put Ben down, pushing him protectively behind her as she retrieved her dagger. The silver blade caught the meager light, shot menacing white sparks. The boy began to weep, his sobs drowned out by the clash of metal striking metal.

Regan put up a good fight. Engaged in a dance of attack and retreat, she was truly something to see. She vanished and reappeared at will, striking down her assailants without fatally injuring them, her goal only to incapacitate.

Her opponents, however, weren’t as forgiving. Not even close.

A flurry of punches and kicks ensued, with Regan generally flattening whomever she was up against. It looked like a regular day of training at the Watchers’ complex, with one difference. These blades weren’t anywhere near as benign as the ones they used in training. They were coated in angel’s blood, a substance that was lethal to their kind. If it as much as touched their skin, it burned straight to the bone.

Marcus knew he should join the fight. Problem was, he wasn’t sure who he was rooting for. He couldn’t bring himself to fight against Regan, but fighting alongside her would imply openly declaring war on the Watchers.

Regan did a great job deflecting the blows, until Thomas got lucky and sliced her across the ribs. Marcus couldn’t tell how deep the gash was, but blood instantly oozed from the wound to soak her white blouse, like a rose blooming in a field of snow. She fell to her knees, weakened by the angel’s blood quickly traveling through her system.

“Regan?” Ben sobbed. “Regan get up!”

With a grunt, she labored to her feet, swaying dangerously, her dagger trembling as she raised it. “Leave him alone,” she yelled. “Just leave him the hell alone.” Her voice broke, and something inside Marcus fisted in response. Her courage, her unflinching determination grabbed him by the throat and squeezed.

The Watchers closed in on her. She was too weak to fight, so weak she could barely stand, and still she insisted on shielding the boy.

“I’ll take it from here.” He stepped between her and those determined to bring her in.

“Stay out of this, Marcus.” Thomas glared at him through narrow gray-blue eyes, two cold slits that made Marcus’s blood run cold. “We have our orders.”

It didn’t take a mindreader to guess what those orders were. Their staunch expressions said it all.

Sweat sprang from Regan’s brow. Succumbing to pain, she crumpled to her knees again. Her arms formed a protective loop around Ben, and she drew him close, an unspoken apology flooding her eyes. “Go ahead,” she told those crowding around her. “Stab me in the back. That’s the only way you’ll get to him.”

Marcus had never seen Regan defeated before. The sight of her curled on the ground with Ben pressed to her chest completely unhinged him.

He couldn’t let her die. To do so would be to damn the soul he no longer possessed. There was enough blood on his hands already. He refused to see another Hybrid destroyed because he lacked the balls to stand up to the guy pulling the strings. Even if that guy was Cal.

Angling his blade, he moved forward, forcing the others to take a step back. “No one’s hurting these two on my watch.”

Surprise arrowed across Regan’s face, followed by gratitude.

Thomas, who’d joined their ranks only three months ago, aimed a sharpened blade at his chest. His gaze reflected a hunger for violence that contradicted his cherubic features. “Move aside, Marcus. You’re not the one we came for.”

Marcus squared his shoulders, adopting his battle stance. “Sorry, pal. Can’t do that.”

Chapter Nine

She woke in an unfamiliar room, where the unmistakable smell of mold hung heavy in the air and swirls of dust danced like moths in the quickly fading sunlight. Gingham curtains covered the multi-paned windows, and the furniture looked like it was about a hundred years old. Standing across the room, backlit by the setting sun, was Marcus.

Regan propped herself on her elbows, felt her side burn like hellfire. A wave of dizziness gripped her, and she collapsed on the lumpy bed again. “Where are we?” Her voice sounded foreign to her, flat and raspy.

Marcus angled his head her way but didn’t turn to look at her. “Cabin in the mountains, ’bout twenty miles north of the complex.”

“How did I get here?”

“I carried you, after you went and got yourself stabbed.”

She inspected her midriff, pushing aside her bloody shirt to find a blister the size of a baseball. The memories gushed back, and she shot up in bed even though it made the room spin. “Ben?”

“He’s safe, asleep in the next room.”

Regan exhaled in relief. She brushed the hair from her face and leaned against the wooden headboard. “What exactly happened?”

Marcus finally flung a glance her way, and the storm brewing in his eyes made her instinctively recoil. “Isn’t it obvious?” He pivoted on his heels and began to stalk the room like a caged lion. “I saved your pretty little ass. Now I’m as screwed as you are.”

“You killed them? The others?” She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Marcus had never defied a direct order from Cal. Never.

“No. I just maimed them. It was the only way I could get you and the kid out of there in one piece.”

Gratitude tangoed with shock and outright confusion. “Why?”

“Because I’m a flaming idiot.” He turned the full force of his anger on her. “And so are you. What the hell were you thinking, Regan?”

She buried her face in her hands, shook her head. “I don’t know. I just couldn’t let Ben die. The compulsion to save him was stronger than I was.”

He released a short laugh. “Yeah, I know what you mean.” The tension melted from his limbs, and he came to stand by her bed, his eyes raking over her body in a way that made her muscles stiffen and her stomach tingle uncomfortably. “How’s your cut?”

“Raw and blistered, but healing. I’m kinda low on energy, though.”

He lowered his tall frame beside her, firmly gripping her hand. Short of ingesting a soul, the Watchers’ bond was the best way to fight the draining effects of angel’s blood. By pooling his energy with hers, Marcus was essentially helping her refuel.

His familiar heat traveled through her, a soothing balm that cleansed her system and sped up the healing process. She closed her eyes and savored the revitalizing tingle in her bloodstream, losing herself in the humming warmth of it.

She could feel her wound shrinking, the blister fading, until nothing remained but a thin white scar. “Thank you.” Those two words were hardly enough to express her gratitude. “For everything.”

She knew what saving her had cost him, the sacrifice he’d made, and it sent her mind reeling. He’d put everything on the line for her—his job, his home, his very purpose—and as much as she appreciated it, she still failed to understand it.

“Besides suffering from temporary insanity, why’d you do it? Why’d you save Ben and me?”

A shadow passed behind his eyes, as dark as it was compelling. “Because I couldn’t bear to watch you die.”

The naked honesty in his voice elicited a slow glide of heat deep in her abdomen. “Do you really think Cal would’ve had me executed?”

He released her hand. “He wouldn’t have had a choice. All acts of treason must be dealt with accordingly or he risks full-blown mutiny.”

Maybe she was in denial, but she had difficulty accepting that Cal would coldheartedly order her death. Not after all the years she’d served him. “He forgave me once before.”

“If you’re talking about the time you ran off and
supposedly
drowned your kid, that doesn’t count.”

“Why not?”

“Because you hadn’t taken the blood vow yet. Back then, you still had the right to choose. Now you don’t.”

A curl of amusement spiraled through her at his bluntness, even though this blasted situation wasn’t the least bit funny. “Your bedside manner sucks, you know that?”

His lips quirked at the corners. “Just saying it like it is.” He squeezed in closer, raising his legs onto the mattress and propping his head against the headboard. Lying here in bed beside him, Regan felt an illicit tremor of something she couldn’t quite identify. All she knew was that she liked the feel of it.

“If it’s any consolation, he won’t enjoy hunting us down.” His hard biceps brushed her arm, and her skin came alive at the inadvertent touch. “Cal has major guilt issues as it is. Terminating us will only add another brick to the heavy load he already carries.”

“Gee, that makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Little good it’ll do me when my head’s rolling on the ground next to yours.”

“He’s gotta keep his eye trained on the goal, Regan,” he persisted. “He can’t lose sight of the big picture. One life is inconsequential when pitted against billions.”

 
“Why do you always feel the need to defend him? He’s not perfect. Not by a long shot.”

He trapped her with his gaze, and she became lost in the mesmerizing blueness of it. Suddenly she was aware of every inch of her skin that brushed against his. Tiny prickles of awareness raced over her flesh, and liquid warmth inundated her system until she feared she’d drown in it.

“No, he’s not perfect,” he conceded. “But he’s not evil, either.”

“I never said he was evil. But he is determined.” She pulled her arm away so his touch could no longer harass her, but the tingling sensation persisted. “Determined to rid the world of everything Nephilim. In case you haven’t noticed, that includes us.”

Thunderous waves hit the shore, curling hungrily at Jace’s feet, threatening to pull him in. The Watchers usually liked to look at the sea from the safety of the cliffs above. Rarely did any venture to the bank below, but tonight Jace had felt compelled to do just that.

“What are you doing down here?” Lia’s voice penetrated his heavy thoughts, and he realized she’d crept up behind him while he’d been busy staring at the whitecaps.
 

“Thinking.” The news about Regan and Marcus had quickly spread through the complex, leaving everyone in shock, especially Jace.
 

Lia shuffled closer and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, but even her touch couldn’t calm the storm brewing within him tonight.

“Cal is hunting my mother down like some animal,” he told her. “He’s sent out all the newbies because they don’t know her well enough to harbor any loyalty toward her.”

“He just wants to find them.”

“And when he does? What then? Know what his orders are?” He turned to look at her. “Death upon resistance. If either Marcus or Regan engages in combat, the Watchers are authorized to cut them down.”

A swift breeze lifted her golden hair off her neck, and she trapped the errant strands with her fist. “I don’t blame them for protecting Benjamin. He’s just a little boy caught in a war he can’t even begin to understand.”

“I don’t blame them, either. I considered running off with the kid myself. That’s just it. This act of mutiny is something I could picture you and me being guilty of, but Regan and Marcus? They’re both so focused, so entrenched in Cal’s world. It makes no sense.”

The Watchers were like a collective. They shared one purpose, one mind. Jace sometimes resented the others for not having the guts to stand up to Cal, Marcus in particular. That was why he’d fought so hard not to become one of them. Even now, after having taken the blood vow, he still couldn’t bring himself to follow Cal blindly. But Marcus worshipped the guy.