Soulless (The Heartless Series Book 2) (12 page)

“You okay?” I ask.

I’m not the most eloquent with words and sometimes things come out wrong. Sometimes, things also come out old world, but not as much as it once was. I’m pretty good at keeping up with the times and the lingo, though I do throw an 1800s Southern-ism in there sometimes on accident.

She nods.

Simply nods.

Not a word.

Nope. Not good.

I decide to be a big boy and stand up. Doesn’t mean I’m not ready to hide behind the bed again if need be. Gracen looks like a caged animal, a whipped caged animal, so I do the only thing I can think of, I hold my hands up in surrender and make my way around the bed.

There is a fine line.

I won’t get too close because I don’t want to scare her. That and I have been the one to torture her all these years. And I won’t stay too far back because I don’t want her to think I’m afraid of her. Oh, I’m terrified, that’s for damn sure. I have no idea what all she can do. I know part of it, and it ain’t good. The demon blood, tip of the iceberg. There’s so much more.

So much more I don’t want to know and hope she never finds out.

If she gets much stronger—and hell if she can’t already bend time—she’ll need something much more powerful than demon blood to keep her going. I don’t want to think about it. It’s a lot even for me, and I’m a freakin’ demon.

She’s not looking at me. Her eyes are still glued on her fingers, watching them move. I wonder if she still sees things as slow or if they’ve gone back to normal.

I wonder what’s going on inside her head and wish I could get back in there to find out. I can push thoughts in there—the darkness, the bodies—but I can’t go back in myself. We will never get to our little room or our table, or hell, she won’t even take me to that little piece of land she used to on occasion. Well, okay, the once. She wore a yellow dress.

She looked amazing.

I wanted to take her then and there, but I knew it would be a bad idea. I’m a demon, not a pervert.

This has gone on long enough. I feel bad for her, I do. I wish she could snap out of it and just be happy or, at the very least, have the time to process this. But we don’t, and she can’t. We have a very strict deadline, and we need to meet it. I can’t be late.

I won’t have that on my already black conscious.

“Darlin’.” Man, I hope she doesn’t slap me or throw me against a wall—or unleash the bright light of death after me. I might not be the best at being alive, but I do enjoy my afterlife, or rather I did until Lucien showed back up and turned everything on its butt. “It’s okay. It’s over. I promise you. We’ll fix it. We’ll figure it out.

Honestly, I don’t think she believes me. Another thing, I don’t know if I believe me either. She’d have every reason not to. It isn’t like I’m much of the honest Abe type. I do believe one thing, though. We will figure it out. Whatever it is, we will fix it. I’ll fix it.

I owe her that much.

“Did you feel it?” she asks. Her tone reminds me of children on Christmas morning. Not that I’ve had children, but I know how they act. I’ve looked inside a few normal houses on occasion in my years here.

“Feel the earth move? Yeah, you seem to have that effect on me.” I wink because I do, and judging by the way she glares at me, I’m not entirely sure it was the right thing to do.

“Did you?”

That’s a loaded question. If I did, then something happened. If not, then, well, it means she’s crazy and/or seeing things not even I put in her head. Honestly, with her, it could be a toss-up. Not everything I saw when she was related is something I put in her head.

Gracen eyes me up and down, which would be awesome and lovely and spectacular and every word you can imagine if it were real. It can’t be real. I don’t deserve it to be real.

“What did it feel like to you?” she asks.

It takes everything I have not to say some kind of stupid, sex remark. Admit it, she walked into that one. But I’m the nice one, though some would say I’m not.

“Please tell me you gave me something… bath salt. Meth. Anything really that can explain what just happened. It was a tripping session, right? Right… it has to be. There’s no way…”

I let her keep rambling because I don’t want to stop and get her wound up again.

“Would that make you feel better?” I add after she seems like she’ll go on forever. I don’t have all the time in the world. Neither does he.

“No.” She sighs and stands up straighter. “No, I guess it wouldn’t. Would be nice, though, to go back to the way things were.”

The way things were: me as Gracen’s boyfriend, the world not ending, and her with her magical scary powers dormant inside her. Gracen doesn’t know this, but it hasn’t always been all sunshine and roses. Her powers, man, they are scary as hell. I’m glad she’s on my side—or as much on my side as anybody’s.

To go back, though. I’d do one thing differently. One thing I never got to do as her boyfriend. I’d hold her during that last week, the week when I was being an ass to her—and it hurt like hell to do it—for Seth. Because Seth wanted her broken before he took her to the cave. I would take that back in a heartbeat. I’d hold her and kiss her.

I’d give in to her when she snuggled up to me, all hot and wanting me. I never did before. Seth said she had to be pure to open the gate. I don’t care what Seth says now. Now, I know he was a big liar. Who knew angels could lie?

Sort of makes being a demon seem unimportant if even angels can lie? Who says they get to go to Heaven while we have to be tortured in Hell? Who gets to determine that?

Thoughts for another time.

The thing is: demons don’t hold on to their humanity. There’s no possible way to in Hell. It hurts too much. Not just the physical pain either—all of it. It gets to you, and if you don’t give up your humanity, you end up like those twisted bastards in the ninth and tenth layers. It’s the hell of Hell, and it’s not pretty.

She took me there once. Just to show me what it would be like if I didn’t stop fighting.

Always did take care of me, Amelia did.

Always.

A demon with humanity isn’t a good thing. I know that Gracen doesn’t think I have mine after all the things I did to her in her dreams. But those were dreams. They weren’t real. I never hurt her in real life. Never. I never would… well, not on purpose.

But we can’t stay here. She has to understand that we have to move. He doesn’t have much time, and if we don’t get to Prospect soon, I won’t be able to live with myself. I will lose my humanity to deal with the pain, and that won’t be good for anybody.

Keep my humanity…

That should be easy, right?

“Hart?” She asks with a tilt of her head. She’s gone from freaking out to looking at me like she’s actually concerned for my well being. Or maybe I zoned out for too long. I don’t suppose it matters. She’s worried about me and that should worry me. It does, but I can’t dwell on it. Bigger fish and all that.

“Yeah,” I clear my throat and snap out of the trance she tends to put me in. I love that about her.

Stop. It.

Demon.

I’m a demon.

I’m evil.

I’m not good for her.

I’m not good for anybody.

Remember Colleen?

Yeah, you were real good for her, weren’t ya?

If I can’t be a good person while I’m a freakin’ person, I don’t think I can do it now.

If I can’t love someone without messing it up in the old days before Internet and Netflix and all the wonderments of the new age, how do I even begin to think I have any right to now?

That’s right, because I’m a demon and appear to give a flip about right and wrong.

Humanity sucks.

“Hart!” This time she yells at me. “Are you having a stroke? Is your… um… body… shutting down?”

Now, that would be interesting. Bodies can shut down. If you are in them long enough. Demon blood can only sustain the delicate human skin and organs for so long until they go dust to dust. Gracen doesn’t need to know that, though. When I go to dust, it’ll be the best thing that can happen to her. I’ll poof into someone else, and she’ll never have to know. Unless she’s killed us all by then, and then I won’t have to worry about it.

#brightside

“Yeah… no… no. Sam’s fine. Not shutting down. I’m just thinking. Going over the fastest route to Prospect in my mind.”

“So….” When someone drags out a word that long, it’s usually not a positive thing. “You aren’t freaked out by the whole bending time thing? You don’t think it’s something we should be a little concerned about?”

Oh, I’m concerned. I’m freaking the hell out about it, mainly because it goes along with what I know and wish I never knew. However, it would be stupid of me to let on that I’m worried. What good would it do? Then she’d freak out and where would I be? I’d more than likely be dead, that’s where. As long as Gracen doesn’t know everything her powers can do, I should be okay. As long as I don’t tick her off.

As long as I keep from loving her.

I slap on the most non-concerned face I can muster and shrug. I try to act cool. I doubt it comes across that way. Lucien was always the cool brother—if cool was a thing back in the 1860s.

“No.” I shrug.

Simple. Easy. My voice doesn’t crack. I look at her right in the eyes, the eyes that used to be green and now have turned brown with a slight hint of red showing through. She could kill me with one little thought in her mind. I don’t think she realizes that.

“I’m not concerned at all.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

GRACEN

I
T’S ABOUT TWO WHEN WE FINALLY
make it to the car, Sam’s car—technically Hart’s I suppose. It is a black, older model Mustang. I don’t know what year it is. I’ve never asked, but I know that if we were to hit a deer, or a semi, we’d more than likely win.

I’ve always been a muscle car kind of girl. The louder the motor, the better. The first time I ever met Sam, he was sitting in the driver’s seat of the Mustang in the parking lot of my high school. I should have thought he was creepy. At the time, I thought he was cool and handsome, and he actually smiled at me. Me. Gracen Sullivan who hadn’t been smiled at since the incident sophomore year. I smiled back. I didn’t even think. I just did it. Smiled.

And here we are.

Heading to my mother’s house, even though I don’t want to—visions of killing her and all—in the middle of demons being let out of Hell and with a cooler full of demon blood Hart just happened to forget about in the backseat.

Happy road trip all around.

Hart doesn’t say much as he crawls into the driver’s seat, not even stopping to put on his seatbelt. Sam didn’t either. Drove me crazy, and I always commented on it. It’s habit. That’s what I think when I clear my throat, and he looks at me like I’m pestering him.

“Seriously?”

“It’s the law.”

“It’s not like I can die, Gracen. Well… not in a car accident. There are ways I can die.” His smile fades ever slightly, and I can tell he’s hiding something from me. I’ve known it since I woke up, actually. He knows something—more than likely something more about what I am—but he ain’t talking. So I ain’t gonna push it, but I am going to ask questions—innocent questions—until he accidently spills the beans.

“Like with the blade?”

My gaze falls to the sharp little knife with all the carvings he has secured on his hip. He must trust me because it’s within reach, if I wanted to go after it and all. He either thinks I won’t or I’m too weak to do it, or he never would leave it where I could get to it. The demon trusts me… I’m not sure what to think about that.

“For example.” He pulls out onto the pavement and starts down the street that will lead to another street and then another. Then we’ll have a choice, either the interstate or the backroad until we get to Prospect and my mother’s house.

The thought of seeing my mother is terrifying. I don’t look the same. My hair is nearly black now with—I call it silver, Hart calls it gray—streaks running through it. I know dye can be an explanation for it, but what about my eyes? Contacts? Would she believe it? Would she think I’ve lost my mind again? Will she make me go back to Dr. Sheldon?

Thinking about my mother makes my heartbeat pick up, and I hear it in my ears. The sound is so irritating, and I turn up the radio to cover it up.

“Problems?” Hart asks when he stops at a red light, like a good little law-abiding citizen.

“It’s nothing.” I’ve never been an exceptional liar. Actually, I must be, or the entire world would know about the nightmares and Hart. I’ve pretended to be okay for all these years, pretending so much that I almost started believing it. Almost.

“Don’t lie to me.” He pushes the gas when the light turns green, and it throws me back in the seat a little. I don’t know if he did it on purpose or if he’s mad about something, but something is going on with him. It would be weird for it not to be.

“I’m not lying.” Now I’m getting defensive, and I’m not sure why. Not even the radio blasting—so loud I’m sure we’ll get pulled over for disturbing the peace—can cover it.

The town is so peaceful, like they have no idea what’s going on. Nothing like Hart made me see when I woke up. The blackness. The terror. All the demons getting out and possessing everybody. He did that so we would stay put. A lot of wasted effort now. A little old couple sits next to each other on a park bench at Baker’s Street Park. His arm is around her. She’s leaning on him. He’s whispering into her ear, and it must be some awesome secret—or something insanely dirty—because she giggles and slaps him playfully on the leg. I wonder how long they’ve been together. I wonder how long they have left.

I wonder if they know that the thing that will kill them just passed by in a vintage black Mustang.

The warm sunshine has brought out the masses. With it being Sunday and all, some people are still in their church clothes. They’re walking or tossing Frisbees. I see a few people having a picnic. A family with four kids plays with a golden retriever while two adults sit on a blanket under a fully-grown tree, watching them as the fall leaves fall around them thanks to a gust of wind.