Soul Survivor (23 page)

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Authors: Katana Collins

BOOK: Soul Survivor
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“Yeah,” I answered, my body feeling numb. I didn't seem to have spurred anything from the spell and after another moment of sitting in silence waiting for something—anything—to happen, I breathed easier. “Yeah, you're right.” I looked back down at the iPad. “Pretty lame spell. They're so much better when they're in the ancient language.”
Kayce rolled her eyes. “Tell me about it. Aaron is such a loser anyway. I can't believe you were about to sleep with him.”
I shrugged. “It never happened or anything.”
“Still.” Kayce's lip curled.
“How do you know so much about him?” I asked cautiously.
She was silent for a second before answering. “We run in similar businesses.”
“You mean, you run in the same business.”
Kayce dropped her hands in her lap and they hit her jeans with a slapping sound. Outside, thunder rolled in the distance and wind whipped against the window. “What are you talking about? You know my job is secretive.” She lowered her voice, placing a hand on my knee. It took all of my power not to recoil from her touch. Everything about my best friend seemed so disingenuous now. “It's for your own safety. The less you know the better. Seriously, Mon.”
I didn't mean to do it, but her words made me flinch and she pulled her hand back, anger hardening her face. “What? What is it, Monica? Grow a pair and tell me what's bothering you.”
My throat felt tight, constricted. Talking without crying was going to be a feat. With a deep breath, I steadied myself for a fight. “The phone call earlier,” I said quietly, but with no less venom in my words. “I listened in.” I narrowed my eyes at her, to which she twitched her head to the side.
“Okay . . .”
“And it sounded an awful lot like you were here for your own hit.”
“You know I have a wild job. This is not new information.”
“Yes, but . . .” After another deep breath, I forced the tension to release from my shoulders. “Everything in your bag is exactly what Aaron also had. And it makes me wonder if you were sent to complete the job he couldn't finish.”
Kayce's eyes widened and her mouth rounded into an O. I had rendered her speechless. For the first time since I'd known the girl, Kayce had nothing to say to me. “Monica, no—” She reached out a hand to grab mine and I wrenched it back.
“Don't!” I held up a hand, palm out as another thunder clap echoed outside. “Don't
touch
me.”
Kayce held both hands out in front of her as though I were holding her at gunpoint. “Okay. Okay, I won't touch you. I promise. But Monica, this is not what you think . . . just ask Lucie—”
Drew came out of the bathroom wearing a T-shirt and workout pants. He rubbed a towel through his hair and flung it over his shoulders. “Sounds like we're in for one Hell of a storm, huh?” he said, looking up and finding Kayce and me in a standoff.
He paused, staring at each of us. “Did I—did I interrupt something?” he asked, clearly already knowing the answer. “No,” I said, not daring to remove my eyes from hers. “Kayce was just leaving.”
“I'm
not
leaving. . . .”
“Yes, you
are
!” I shouted in response.
Another louder thunder clap sounded outside and the wind blew the window open, whipping the curtain around in a frenzy. Rain splattered inside, and both Drew and I rushed to the window to close it.
The magic slapped into me before I knew it was coming. I could see the tendrils of the arcane spinning through the room and Kayce was pinned to the wall by the force of the wind.
The curtain ripped from its fixture and wrapped around Drew, tying him in place. I raced to push the window closed and it wouldn't budge from beneath my hands. Outside, standing in the grass below, I saw the Banshee looking up at me and crying. Her jaw unhinged and she let out a scream. I covered my ears and bent at the waist until the shrill sound ended. When I opened my eyes, a man stood before me.
I froze, the wind whipping my hair every which way, and he smiled in a way that was anything but friendly. “I know you,” I whispered, eyes widening. He touched my forehead and everything went black.
41
Ireland, 1740
 
I
set my fork down beside my plate of meat and potatoes and folded my hands in my lap.
“You hardly touched your supper, angel. Are you ill?”
I shook my head, not raising my eyes just yet. I didn't trust my body's response to making eye contact with the man.
“Just . . . nervous about this evening. When did you say we are to begin?”
“Soon, I believe. We are waiting on . . . well, on a signal from a silent partner.”
This made my head snap up to lock eyes with him. “Shouldn't Julian and I be privy to all the information regarding this battle? Or is there a motive behind keeping us in the dark?”
He looked visibly hurt and shocked by my reaction. Standing, he wiped his mouth with his napkin before walking to my side of the table. “Monica, my angel, what in Heaven is the matter? You know that there are aspects to my work you as an angel should not know of. It would be detrimental to your status.”
I sneered at that. As if he gave any consideration to my status. He brushed a finger across the top of my cheekbone. I swallowed, forcing myself not to flinch at his touch. “Monica—what is it?”
Pebbles from outside slapped against the window and I startled at the sound. Jumping up to see what was out there, I saw nothing but darkness and the vampires standing guard.
Lord Buckley's eyes flashed. “It is time.”
Within minutes, we had all congregated in an enclosed room within the manor. Julian refused to meet my eyes and instead stared at the floor. I looked around the room that I had never before been witness to.
Lord Buckley, Dejan, Julian, and myself all stood in a circle. “We are to do this together. Each plays an integral role in this evening's summonings. Angels—you are to keep watch, and while I know you mustn't interfere, before we begin, I need your word that I am protected.”
Julian nodded. “You have my word. The council has approved and we may fight if Carman is not yet imprisoned and it appears as though she may escape. That is the best we can offer.”
“Dejan,” Lord Buckley said, “bring the sacrifice. Be quick with it.” The room was empty except for one wooden chest, which John opened, pulling out stones and salt. With a stone the size of his palm in one hand, he drew three circles along the smooth stone floor, and covered the lines with salt.
Lord Buckley met Julian's gaze and gave a nod, which Julian returned with a scowl. The tension among all of us was a palpable fourth party in the room. A knock at the door sounded, and Dejan entered with Ainsley tethered behind him.
“Wh-what is Ainsley doing here?” I asked, my eyes wet and wide. They shot from Dejan to John. No one answered me, but Julian's large hands on my shoulders were meant to be reassuring. I shrugged them off. “Answer me!” I stepped into Lord Buckley's chest and stared up at him, my face flaming.
“Angel, we must spill the blood of an innocent creature. Unless you wish that creature to be human—an animal must be sacrificed.”
“Not this one. It doesn't have to be Ainsley.”
“Enough!” His lips pressed together and his face hardened in a way that I hadn't seen before. “Step back,
angel
.” It was the first time he had called me “angel” in a way that was meant to be anything other than loving.
“No!” I cried, the tears streaming down my face one after another and falling onto Ainsley's wool. She bleated and pulled back. Dejan held her reins firmly in place, but I could feel her fear. I placed my hand on her nose and kissed her head—my touch having an immediate calming effect on her.
Julian pulled me off of her, and I forced myself to stand tall beside my angel counterpart.
“Let Buckley do this,” Jules said. “Your sheep will save thousands.”
Lord Buckley grabbed Ainsley's reins and tugged her toward the first circle with little regard for her fear. He had claimed this was his favorite sheep. There were several down in the stables. Why not one of them? Why Ainsley?
She bleated, her eyes wide and terror gleaming in the reflection of the knife John held. He slit into her front leg, letting the blood spill inside the circle. He moved the next with the same action. Her pain echoed in the empty, cavernous room and I covered my ears with my hands. On the third circle, he slit her neck, dropping her convulsing body into the circle with little regard for her life. Dejan handed him a rag, licking his lips and eyeing the spilled blood as a man eyes his bride on their wedding night. Lord Buckley wiped the blood from his hands as though nothing had happened. It was the same way he had wiped his hands after finishing supper.
“Oh, Ainsley,” I whispered as her twitching body drained of the last bit of life.
With palms in the air, Lord Buckley whispered incantations. A strange language I'd never before heard and the circles lit with fire. The room hummed with his magic and Dejan held the journal from the library at John's eye level. For the most part, Lord Buckley needn't even look at his notes. But now and then his eyes would flutter open and scan the page before him.
The wind swirled around us, smelling of frost and death. Ainsley's blood filled the air with its copper scent and I laced my fingers together, squeezing tightly as a reminder to breathe.
The air fizzled and popped around us, and I blinked as two men materialized before us and flickered in the center of their separate circles. The first was thin and wiry with long black hair that flowed beyond his shoulders and came to a widow's peak at the center top of his forehead. A scowl marred the space between his dark eyes and his cheekbones were high and defined.
The second man had dark hair and eyes as well, only was of stronger build. Olive, tanned skin and hair that fell in waves to just below his chin. While the first man flung himself at an invisible wall enclosing the circle, the second stood, simply staring out at each of us, like a caged animal preparing for its attack.
“What comes next?” I asked Jules.
“I'm not positive; however, I believe once Carman arrives, he will have to hold the bindings tight. If any of them get out, he will have to kill them. And we will have to help.”
“Who are they?”
“Carman's sons, Dub and Dother. She has one other, who supposedly has nothing to do with this frost.”
“Aren't we interfering if we fight?”
“Not if their attack physically comes first. Which it will.”
“But what—”
“Monica,” Jules whispered, closing his eyes. “Shhh.”
Resenting being shushed, I reluctantly turned my attention back to the summoning. Lord Buckley had both hands in the air, palms facing out to the circles. Sweat was dripping down his temples and his features twisted as though he were in pain. The words grew louder off his lips and in the center circle, a woman began to appear. I could see through her at first. Her body was tall and thin, a similar body type to the first man who had appeared. But her face—it was the face of the second man. Its heart shape accentuated her high cheekbones. Her eyebrows were perfect arches over two sparkling, silver eyes. Dark hair fell to her waist in large, full curls, and though her skin was pale, it had that same olive tone to it that her sons bore.
A flash of red caught my eye in the corner of the room. Standing and watching the display was the Banshee, and a breath caught in my throat.
Julian gave my arm a squeeze. “I see her, too, this time. I think we all can.”
“You can see the Banshee?” I repeated and felt his nod in response.
“No!” Carman shrieked and pointed to the Banshee. “You, out! Out of this place!” She fell to her knees and raised two hands to the ceiling. Veins corded her neck, the muscles so tense they appeared as though they might burst through her skin at any moment.
The larger son's eyes fell on me, and a smirk tugged at one side of his mouth.
The ground below us started quaking as Carman threw a blast of her magic with the elements in our direction. A rumbling sound groaning from deep in the Earth. Lord Buckley stumbled, losing his footing and his focus for all of a second—but a second too long.
The bindings around the circles faltered and Carman, along with Dub and Dother, charged us. Carman ran to Lord Buckley first and raised her hands to his stomach region, a bolt of lightning sizzling from her fingertips.
Julian pushed me aside, running to step in front of Carman's attack. With Julian as his shield, Lord Buckley rushed to help Dejan, who fought Dub, the lankiest son. His teeth were bared, and in a crouched position, they circled each other.
Wind swirled around me and I ran to escape it, only to find the tunnel of gusts followed me. Dother, the muscular son, grabbed me by the throat, lifting me off my feet and slamming me into the wall. I looked around the room, and the Banshee walked between us all, staring mostly at me. Jules fought Carman and rain poured from the ceiling. Dejan and John almost had Dub in a hold.
Angels couldn't die. I knew that rationally and yet in the moment, panic and fear convulsed through my body. With a rabid scream, I pushed him off of me, clawing at the hands that surrounded my throat.
He fell back, startled, and I pounced on top him, my power far outweighing his—something he couldn't have expected of an angel. For they knew we were to not interfere in their affairs, yet here we were defending the lives of a sorcerer and a vampire.
I flipped him onto his stomach and shoved my knee into his lower back. Fisting a handful of hair, I slammed his head into the floor. Blood splattered against the stone tile and trickled out from beneath him. He grunted, still alive. We were supposed to take them alive, not dead. Angels did not murder.
I looked to my left, where Lord Buckley had a knife to Dub's throat. “Enough!” His voice boomed over the battle. Dub gurgled something and Dejan tightened his hold on the man. “Carman,” Lord Buckley said, and his voice had a calmness to it that was chilling. “If you wish your son to continue living, get back to the circle.”
Carman advanced toward Lord Buckley, who dug the knife into Dub's arm. He screamed in pain, writhing against Dejan's hold. Dother struggled beneath me and I grunted while tightening my hold.
“No!” Carman shrieked. The rain above us came to an immediate halt.
“Next will be his throat,” Lord Buckley growled. “Back in the circle now. I will not ask again.”
Carman's eyes spilled over with tears as she darted a look back and forth between her sons. The wind died down in the room and her arms lowered to her sides. “You will keep your word.” It was a statement more than a question.
Lord Buckley nodded one time only in a staccato movement. “You have my word.”
With her chin high in the air, she strolled back into the center circle, slowly spinning back to face us. “Very well.” She looked at each of her boys. “S'agapo,” she said and placed a palm to her heart.
Lord Buckley nodded. He looked at both Dejan and me. “Hold them steady until it is time to throw them into the circle.”
“Yes, sir,” Dejan rasped and I simply nodded. Dother looked up at me through the corner of his eyes. I quickly looked away, unable to hold his gaze much longer.
With hands in the air, outstretched toward Carman, Lord Buckley began his incantations once more. The air hummed, and as he finished, the room stilled once more.
“The circle is closed,” Lord Buckley whispered. “All that is left is to banish her.”
Julian's gaze lowered, and he glanced at John through the corner of his eyes. “Well, then, what are you waiting for?”
Carman glared at Lord Buckley, eyes blazing. “Let my boys go. I did as you asked.”
The Banshee's scream echoed through the room; her jaw unhinged, she looked to the ceiling like a wolf howling at the moon.
“No,” Carman whispered, her face dropping as though she could see into the future.
Lord Buckley darted to Dub, sinking his knife into his chest and tearing it down to his belly button. Dub's screams combined with the Banshee's as his innards oozed from his body. Dejan's mouth trembled and he dropped the body, stepping back from the blood pooling at his feet.
“M-my lord,” he rasped, smelling the blood that stained his fingers.
“Out!” Lord Buckley commanded. Dejan's eyes rippled with red, but he obeyed the orders, rushing out of the room.
Carman shrieked from her circle, falling to her knees crying. “You will pay! You will all pay!”
“Monica,” Lord Buckley yelled. “Bring me Dother!”
“Monica, no!” Julian shouted at the same time.
Lord Buckley charged us both, knife in hand still dripping blood. He was fast—but I was much faster. I stood, taking Dother with me, and tossed him into his circle, standing as a shield in front of it in case Lord Buckley got any ideas about opening the circle again.

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