Angel Souls and Devil Hearts (15 page)

Several shadows had been added to each platoon since Rolf had drawn up their duty rosters, yet each time he walked through the barracks, he did not sec a single face he did not recognize. He
knew that these extra bodies were the outlaws that Hannibal had enlisted rather than killed, rebellious shadows who wanted nothing more than to kill humans. He knew that they would make their move
at some point during this operation, and to that end he had taken into his confidence a number of his own soldiers, those he could trust, to neutralize Hannibal’s plans as soon as something
unusual took place. If they tried anything, Rolf himself would kill Hannibal. It was the only way. And despite the elder’s much greater age, Rolf felt that his own evolution had become so
rapid that he was at least a match for the old hunter.

And yet, he hoped that Hannibal had enough sense to wait until Mulkerrin was dead, to assist in the extermination of one threat before presenting another. Unfortunately, Rolf didn’t have
much faith in that scenario. More likely, Hannibal intended to use Mulkerrin’s atrocities as a springboard for his own, and come back to take the sorcerer on later. Rolf knew such a strategy
would not work in the long run, and he wondered how Hannibal could believe in it. For one brief moment, Rolf had believed that shadows could live in peace among humans, could become a society of
their own and merge with the world, in the light of day.

His faith had been fleeting.

Now he steeled himself for battle again, fighting the poisons that threatened to destroy his kind from outside, and in.

And what if I’m alone now?
he asked himself, then shook it off, not daring to address such questions. He had not felt his brother Will Cody, die, but he did know what it was he
had
felt: pain; extraordinary pain for one of their kind, and then nothing at all. Cody’s mind had been shut to him before, a trick few of the shadows could perform, but Rolf
didn’t think this was a trick. Whatever had happened to sever Cody’s psychic bonds with his family, it had not been by the old showman’s own choice. Rolf had once shared his
family’s hatred of Cody for reasons he had never been too clear on, though he knew his brothers and sisters had been completely certain of their motives. But in Venice, he and Cody had stood
side by side, fought together for their people, for their lives, and Rolf had been proud to stand with him.

Heaven help Mulkerrin if Will Cody were dead. Meaghan and Alex were closer to him as friends, but Rolf shared a warrior’s bond with Cody, a thing of pride and honor.

And what of Alexandra and Meaghan, his sister and her lover, both his friends? What had become of them? They had been planning to reach Munich today, and yet George Marcopoulos and Julie Graham
had sent a joint communiqué saying that they had disappeared from their home just before they were to leave for the airport, apparently intercepted by another shadow. Rolf could not begin to
guess who this shadow was, or what business could take Alexandra and Meaghan away from something as dire as Mulkerrin’s return.

But of course, that’s not what had happened. Rolf knew that they had not simply gone off on some other adventure because when he reached out with his mind, to attempt to locate Alexandra,
she too was gone. Not dead, for he would have felt such a tragedy, but simply gone.

All of this confusion wore away at his confidence, at his resolution, but he pushed it back. There was Mulkerrin to deal with, more powerful now than when Peter Octavian had been victorious over
him in Venice, and this time they didn’t have Peter to rely on. And Hannibal . . .

Rolf rose from where he’d been sitting, staring out the window at the gray dusk falling over Munich. Very shortly it would be time to muster the forces of Operation: Jericho. Before then,
he would see if he couldn’t learn a bit more of what Hannibal had in mind.

Before he was halfway to the door, someone knocked. He opened it to find the American commander, Elissa Thomas, alone in the hall.

He stood for a moment, unsure how to respond to her visit.

“May I come in?” she finally said, and he gestured for her to enter.

“I think we need to talk,” she said as she passed him, and the lilt in her voice, the pride in her step and the sweet, sweet smell of her convinced Rolf that Hannibal could wait a
few minutes. He didn’t bother to remind her that he was unable, really, to talk. She knew that, of course. And there were, after all, other forms of communication.

Rolf closed the door and turned to find Commander Thomas leaning against the bare desk. His eyes flitted involuntarily to the single bed in the corner of the Spartan quarters he’d been
given, then back to her. The commander had not missed the glance, and her lips turned up at the edges. Without the power of speech, Rolf had learned early how to interpret facial expressions, and
there could be no mistaking the woman’s intent.

He was surprised, even a little suspicious, but he was also excited. He had been attracted to Elissa Thomas the moment he laid eyes on her, and he respected her strength of will, her boldness
and the courage in evidence within the personal records the SJS had on all UNSF commanders. He wondered if there were an ulterior motive, hoped there were not, and walked to her across the
room.

Rolf motioned with his large hands, shrugging his shoulders, asking why she had come. Commander Thomas tossed her hair to one side like a schoolgirl, and Rolf felt his erection growing. An
intelligent woman confident enough to allow her sexuality through. Yes, he wanted this woman.

“Rolf,” she began, and he liked to hear her say his name, “let me lay it on the line here. I have no reason to trust you, but I do. I see in you a courage and cunning that I
can respect and admire. And, of course, other things.”

She reached up and put a hand on his neck, and the warmth of it made him even harder.

“Later, I’d like to talk to you about, shall we say, a strategic alliance. But for now . . .”

And her other hand moved forward and rested on the enormous bulge that had grown under his pants. Rolf closed his eyes a moment, a light breath escaping his mouth, warm on her cheek as she went
to kiss him. Their lips met, and now Rolf’s hands came up and held her face, enveloped it, and he pulled her to him and kissed her deep. Their tongues intertwined and then he broke off,
leaving her breathless. His tongue flicked out and traced her lips, engraving a promise there of what he would do when he reached lower.

Rolf picked her up and carried her to the small bed, where he undressed her slowly, kissing, nibbling and licking at each newly bared region of her body. He caressed her so softly, gently, that
she could hardly believe it was this great, powerful man who touched her. He rolled her nipples between his fingers as he lay her back and spread her legs with one strong hand. She didn’t
feel the urge to speak, because he, simply, could not. It wasn’t just his tongue, but his lips and teeth, the stubble of his chin—he took control of her in a way no one had before.

As she approached her orgasm, building to something she knew would wrack her body with convulsions, just as she took that final breath . . . he stopped. He looked up at her in that moment that
she thought she would suffocate, that she would never be released from the frozen muscles of her body, and he grinned at her, a naughty child, knowing what he’d done.

He had barely entered her when Elissa bucked up against him, pulling him deep into her. Then her legs were around his back, her fingernails raking his shoulders as she urged him on, her orgasm
rocking her entire body with convulsions. She bit her lip and it bled, and somewhere in the back of her brain she wondered why he had not bitten her, but she couldn’t hold any thought for
long.

After he shuddered into an orgasm of his own, she wondered again why he hadn’t taken her blood, but found she didn’t care. She became suddenly aware of the muscles in her face, as he
lay his head on her breast and snuggled close to her, and realized that she shared that grin of his.

And they slept.

Somewhere Between.
Thirty-Seven Seconds After Departure:

Lazarus had said that passing through the portal would hurt them less than it had Peter. As the three of them emerged on hands and knees, all retching and shivering, or perhaps
convulsing, Meaghan and Alexandra were unaware that they shared a thought. If it had been this bad for them, exactly how bad
had
it been for Peter?

“Lions and tigers and bears, oh my,” Alexandra said, weakly, and Meaghan attempted a soft chuckle to reward the effort, but couldn’t manage it.

Lazarus didn’t even try; he only moaned as he slowly worked himself, trial and error, to his feet. Meaghan was standing first, if only because her muscles ached more lying down. She
thought that they might have experienced a weird sort of birth, and she wondered if babies experienced that kind of trauma. She reached out and pulled Alex to her feet, letting Lazarus take care of
himself. He was, after all, supposedly older and stronger than either of them.

They had emerged in a dark alleyway, which was nothing like what they had expected, though if they had discussed it aloud they would both have realized that they had not really expected
anything. Alex and Meaghan walked in silence to where the alley opened onto the main street, and Lazarus was right behind them.

“Lazarus,” Meaghan said. “Where are we?”

It was, of course, Hell. But not the Hell they had expected. The street upon which they now stood was lined with old stone buildings, a crumbling inner city that resembled so many they had
known, and yet was none of them. There was something about the architecture that was at once familiar, and yet accented with so many unfamiliar details and almost nonsensical geometry as to make
them completely certain they were no longer “home.” And it seemed that everything—buildings, street and sky—was gray.

Indeed, they had passed through to somewhere else, but not necessarily to the elsewhere they’d intended. And as Lazarus took his time responding to Meaghan’s question, she realized
what his answer would be before he could voice it.

“You don’t know, do you? You don’t know. Oh, well, that’s just fucking wonderful.”

“What now?” Alexandra asked.

Meaghan thought her lover sounded quite courageous, but she herself was nearing a panic. If Lazarus didn’t know . . . Uh-uh. She wasn’t going to let that happen.

“Lazarus,” she said, back in command, “look through the book and try to find out where we went wrong, and how to get us out of here and on our way again. Alex and I will head
opposite ways up the street, only a block, to get our bearings and perhaps a clue as to what this place is.”

There was no discussion. Alexandra began to drift off down the street in one direction, and Meaghan in the other. The one thing that struck Meaghan as most chilling, the fact that threatened to
undermine her new resolve, was the complete and unrelenting silence. This was a city, though not one they were familiar with, and yet it had no loud vehicles, no construction, no people. It was
deserted. Up ahead in the distance, above the row of buildings that were like brownstones but not, the city’s skyline shot up into towering glass-and-metal structures. Meaghan thought, not
for the first time, that the word “skyscrapers” was incredibly appropriate.

But these were like no skyscrapers she had ever seen and their weird geometry—harsh, cutting angles—confirmed for her that they were nowhere on Earth. There were lights in those
distant towers, the same way there were streetlights burning just above her now, and yet Meaghan was suddenly sure that those signs of life were false. She knew, intuitively, that those buildings
were as empty as the streets around them.

“Meaghan!” Alexandra called from behind.

Meaghan turned to see Alex waving for her to come back. Obviously she’d found something, and Meaghan hoped it was an answer, rather than more questions. She walked back past Lazarus, and
as she got closer to Alex she began to notice the destruction. She had to step around a huge crevice which had torn open the ground. To her left, charred embers were all that remained of two
adjacent homes. To her right, all of the windows in one building were shattered, the lack of glass in the street suggesting an external force as the cause. Several others had their heavy wooden
doors torn out, frames shattered, brick and stone smashed, steps crushed under incredible weight

Fifty feet from Alexandra, with no wind at all, Meaghan could smell it. Filling her nose and activating an all too human gag reflex—it wasn’t the smell of death, but of what comes
after, the rotting. She came to a halt two yards away from her lover, but Meaghan didn’t need Alex to point the way. Her nose brought her around to the sight of the crumbled remains of an
entire building, most of which had collapsed into a huge crevice much like the one in the street Other than the remains of the foundation wall and what had fallen outside that wall, the building
was gone, into the crevice. But the crevice was apparently not a bottomless pit, because it wasn’t empty now.