02 Awaken-The Soulkeepers (21 page)

“Lay back.” I try to ease him down but he won’t go. He grits his teeth and leans heavily on me. I brace myself so we don’t fall. I peek over his shoulder. More black marks are seeping from beneath his shirt and across his back. I work my hands around to his shirtfront, unfastening his buttons. He groans and fights me, and I swat at his fumbling fingers. “Stop it!” I open his shirt and gingerly guide it over his shoulders. I catch my breath. “Oh my God!”

Dante’s back is lined with horrible lashes that seep black blood. A green chain
tattoo circles his bicep and trails down his arm; it’s fresh, still red around the edges. I’m no idiot. I can see it’s no ordinary tattoo. It was branded into his skin. The lashes across his back are struggling to close. Just like Michael, Dante will regenerate and heal, but the wounds are deep. Progress is sluggish and painful.

I cradle him against my neck, stroking his head. Dante hugs me, giving his stern male ego a moment’s reprieve. He must’ve suffered horribly but, of course, he won’t complain.

He’s quiet and tense as his breathing comes in fitful waves. After a while, he gains some composure and withdraws. His hair has fallen across his face but I can see that he is embarrassed. He eases into his shirt, and then runs his fingers through his hair. “My apologies,
cara
. You were never meant to see that.”

“Dante, please tell me who did this to you. Were you beaten because of me? Because you returned to Hell without a soul?”

He blinks slowly and gives me a lopsided grin. “There is nothing I would not endure to be with you,
cara
. You know that. I never intended to Take your soul in the traditional sense. I wanted you for myself; I wanted you to live below with me. And for that, I was punished.”

I look at the scars peeking through his open collar. They are old, regenerated from weeks ago. Dante has been suffering since the day he was dragged back to Hell, two months ago. Whipped and tortured while I’ve been romping around town with my friends. I’m sickened by the idea. I guess I never really believed he would be hurt. Certainly not to this degree. Dante always seemed so strong, indestructible.

I ask about the others, and he tells me Vaughn almost died, Santiago was spared, and Wolfgang is still locked away. He took the brunt of the blame and is enduring a special brand of punishment from the henchmen; Wolfgang has become The Order’s whipping boy. I feel horrible until I remember how evil Wolfgang is and then I get over it.

“I’m so sorry you were tortured. I can’t imagine what you’ve endured. But, Dante, why have you come back?” He frowns as though he doesn’t comprehend.

“I … thought you would understand, Sophia. I told you at the Borderland. We are not finished. That was
not
the end. It is not an easy thing to do, tracking your soul over the years. Now that I have found you, I am not giving up. We are destined to be together. You declared this to me in our past life, remember?”

Remember?
Remember?
No! Of course I don’t remember! And now I’m overwhelmed all over again. Stupefied, actually, and I have a million things to say, but the closet door is thrown open then, and Dante and I spring up. Rama steps into the room
with his usual flare. He thinks I’m still moping about and wants to reenergize me. His hand is raised and his mouth is open to call out his familiar greeting, “Aloha,
wahine!
,” but he sees Dante and freezes. His hand drops and his mouth clamps shut. Color drains from his face.

Uh-oh.

I rush over because he looks like he might faint.

“What’s going on?” Rama’s voice is surprisingly crisp and clear. He might have been shocked but he’s no wilting flower. He is glaring at Dante.

“Oh, well, this is my … uh …” I don’t know how to explain what Dante is, and I look to him for help.

He slides his hands into his pockets and smirks with a glint in his eye. “Well, if it isn’t Obi-Wannabe-Kenobi.”

Rama scoffs. “Hello, Darth Faker.”

“You two know each other?” I ask, looking from Dante to Rama.

Dante chuckles and strolls over to my desk, casually propping a hip against the corner. I see that he’s well adept at masking the pain still radiating through his back.

“You’re Rama Kuan,” he says. “A somewhat newly minted Ascended Master, if I’ve heard right.”

“And I’ve heard plenty about you, Demon Knight Dante. Your reputation is … appropriate.” Rama is not happy and he turns his back on Dante to face me. He scowls through his dreadlocks. “Well,
wahine
, mind telling me why you have a demon in your bedroom?”

I grimace and say, “Well, gosh, that’s not something a girl hears every day.” He doesn’t think I’m the least bit funny so I straighten up. “Um, a few months ago we kinda went out and I kinda invited him in so …” I fade off as his expression drops with understanding. I have never seen Rama angry or upset or anything but mellow. I suppose I don’t blame him, finding a notorious demon keeping company with his trainee can certainly harsh his mellow, if people still do that these days.

Rama smoothes down his Hawaiian shirt and straightens his spine. He faces Dante with cold indifference. “Mind chillin’ some place else? Sophia and I have some training to do.”

“Yes, about that.” Dante walks over, and they stand toe-to-huarache-sandal. “I think you’ve done all the training you’re going to do here. So why don’t you meditate or levitate or remediate yourself back to wherever you came from.” Dante’s eyes are swirling, trying to compel Rama. I have no idea if Persuasion is powerful enough to control an Ascended Master, but I don’t want to find out.

“Hey!” I holler and wedge myself between them. They are both taller than me and I look up at Dante. “For your information, I’m experiencing an Awakening and on my way to becoming a spirit walker.”

“I think he’s already hip to that,” Rama says, his eyes hard on Dante. He is not
compelled, and neither one is backing down despite my involvement. “Is that why you’ve come? To stop her Awakening? Or maybe turn her at the last moment?”

Dante’s eyes stop swirling and turn cold, deadly. I’m racing to catch up. “You
know
?” I tug on his shirt but his eyes remain locked with Rama’s. “How? Is that why you’re here? Are you trying to turn me? Dante! Answer me!” I wait an eternity but he doesn’t answer, so I fling myself away, furious. I stomp around the room, throwing innocent apparel and cursing. Dante unleashes threats under his breath, something about lesser demons and Rama not being qualified to train a dog. They are ignoring me altogether.

“It’s my job to train her,” Rama says, and Dante growls back, “Talk her out of it!”

“Hey!” I yell. “Nobody is talking me out of anything. Dante, look at me!” He turns and I say, “I want this!” but he shakes his head. He says what everyone else has said; that I don’t know what I’m asking for, that it’s too dangerous, that I will be killed.

I dead bolt my arms across my chest, feeling everything inside me lock up. “I’m sick of people telling me that I can’t do this. Rama is my Ascended Master, and he thinks I can do it. Don’t you?” I toss the challenge into his lap, and he hesitates to agree. “I know, I know, we’re behind schedule, but I did really well the first day, right?” Now he agrees and I smile smugly.

Dante takes me by the shoulders and gives me a grave look. “Sophia, I came here for the reason I told you in the beginning; you belong to me and I will do everything in my power to convince you or
remind
you of that fact. That has not changed.”

“And I told you months ago, that I don’t believe you. You tricked me with your hoodoo voodoo and gave me strange memories that don’t mean anything.”

“My ‘hoodoo voodoo’?” Dante’s eyebrows shoot up, and he laughs affectionately.

I roll my eyes. “Whatever.”

“Not whatever. And it was not a trick. But I now understand why your memories are buried so deep. This damned Awakening has taken over and replaced your common sense.”

“My common sense is just fine, thank you very much! Now, if you’ll excuse me, Rama and I have to get started. We’re behind and I have a lot of homework and … stuff.” I open the window and wave a clear path for Dante to climb out. He gives me a sardonic look and strolls to the closet. He steps inside and then looks back.

“
Ciao, cara mia
. It was so good to see you again.” His eyes drift down my body in a deliberate display of his carnal desire. “I look forward to our next visit, where I will come and go, as I please.” He laughs at my mortified expression and quietly closes the door.

* * *

I bend myself into the lotus position across from Rama. The realization that Dante has actually come for me,
again
, is slowly settling into the deepest part of me. The fact that he didn’t drag me off to his cave by my hair is both comforting and disturbing. Dante is cunning and calculating in his plans. Whatever he is up to this time, I’m sure he won’t be repeating any mistakes. He won’t strike until all the pieces are in place and all guards are down; no loopholes
this
time. I have to be ready for anything.

Rama asks that I unwrap all thoughts and relax but I can’t. I see he is just as tense as I am. He was unsettled to find a demon in my bedroom, so I fill in the details. To my surprise, he already knows the story, having been updated on my past transgressions when he was assigned to me. But neither of us expected Dante to show up again.

“Don’t know why your demon dude would’ve been released. Word up the spirit chain says that he and Vaughn Raider were in the Death Bunker. Can’t figure why they’re free to roam.” We fall silent to contemplate things.

“It never occurred to me to ask him,” I say, and he nods.

“Yeah, gotta keep him outta your green room. Need your head free and clear of all debris.”

My green room; that sweet space inside the tube where every surfer likes to linger. Yeah, well, easier said than done
.

I couldn’t have been more prophetic. An hour later, Rama and I have made little progress on my journey to enlightenment. Seeing Dante again has affected me more than I care to admit. It’s impossible to concentrate, so we give up and head to the barn. I’m becoming rather adept at sneaking out of the house; Bailey would be proud.

When we arrive, Raph is waiting, along with Kanati and Chang`e. I’m grateful they stuck around to give me a second chance. Raph, I see, has been pacing and singing my praises in an attempt to coax them into staying.

I walk over and say, “Hiya” and
“O si yo”
and
“Nǐ hǎo.”
They return the greetings, and then Raph says, “So, how are you?” and I say, “Defiantly optimistic, and you?” He smiles and backs off, giving us room to work. I face Kanati and Chang`e.

“Look, I’m really sorry for bailing like I did. I was going through something and … well, I understand your time is valuable. It won’t happen again.” They are apprehensive but agree to stay if I’m truly committed. I assure them that I am. No more doubts. So we continue, picking up where we left off.

The physical training is punishing and painful. If the wear and tear on my body
alone isn’t enough, Chang`e snaps her silk whip and walks a circle around me as I pound out push-ups, pull ups, and climb up and down the tree. She is a graceful drill sergeant, telling me my body must be transformed into a weapon. I must think I am lethal, deadly. I must kill without hesitation. I agree on a basic level, but since I’ve never actually engaged in hand-to-hand combat with a demon or reaper or soul seeker, it’s hard to rouse those killer instincts.

I become distracted with thoughts of Dante. I wonder if Michael and his family know that he’s back. I’m guessing not yet. As far as I know, Dante hasn’t made an appearance in town, and Vaughn is chilling at the mansion. Dante admitted his reason for returning was purely for me; he has no plans to stalk anyone. The good people of Haven Hurst should be safe. I certainly feel safe. I’m in control and won’t be taken in by Dante’s ultra-smooth Italian seduction techniques like before. Besides, the last thing I want to do is run to Michael and ask for protection. I have to prove to him that I can take care of myself. And what better way than to deal with a couple of notorious demons on my own?

My internal pep talk does little good when my muscles are ripping and my legs are crying uncle. It’s nearly midnight when I creep back to bed.

* * *

I have set my alarm for five o’clock—as in the
a.m
. Ugh. My training is not only sucking the life out of me, but all my homework time. I need to snag a few hours of homework time before school starts.

As I lie in bed where I collapsed in a heap, I contemplate quitting my job at the
Gazette
. It actually doesn’t take up too much time, and I’m still responsible for taking photos for the school newspaper, so it wouldn’t matter much if I did. Not to mention that I love my job. I’m not a fan of attending every athletic event, but I do love taking photos. It’s one of the highlights of my day.

The only good thing about being so busy is not thinking about Michael every minute of the day. There are a few moments when my head is down and I’m so deep into an assignment that I forget my second heartbeat is missing; I forget that the heart left behind has shattered like glass and stabs my insides. And then I take a breath and the pain cuts deeper.

I cry myself to sleep, again.

When I wake hours later, it’s not to the church bell alarm on my cell phone but to the familiar twinkling lullaby of Dante’s music box. I sit up and there he is, reclined in
my desk chair with his legs out and ankles crossed. He is wearing fresh, unbloodied clothes and a lazy smile.

“
Buongiorno, cara mia
,” he says, and I clutch the bedsheet over my chest.

“What are you doing here?” I demand. The room is dim because it’s early but I see the flash of white teeth as he laughs.

“I am waiting for you to wake up,” he says cheerfully, and then comes over and sits on the bed.

I look around for Sundance but he is AWOL. He doesn’t like demons in my bedroom any more than I do. “You can’t be here,” I say, nudging him with my foot under the blankets. He slips a hand under and captures my foot, and I stop. We stare while he gently messages my foot, his hot hand working to relax the muscles. It’s far too intimate a thing, and I become aware that I’m wearing only a skimpy tank top and panties.