Lost Eden (The Soulkeepers) (4 page)

Turning, she had a moment to take in the meticulously designed room before she noticed
him.
All blond curls and gleaming white teeth, the Lord of Illusions draped one arm over the back of the leather sofa he was sitting on, the other rested casually in his lap.

“Welcome, Abigail, so glad you could join us.” Lucifer’s quiet voice and hint of a smile seemed innocuous enough, but Abigail knew better. A quiet Lucifer was a deadly Lucifer.

“You. You lured me here.” She bit her lip to the point of pain.

“Yes. An easy enough illusion.”

“Where is Malini?”

“Burnt to a crisp at the center of Nod.” He poked his tongue into his cheek. “There’s nothing my Watchers like more than a fire pit, especially one fueled by Healer flesh.”

Abigail clutched her stomach. “You’re lying.” Jacob said Malini made it safely to Arizona after her mission to Nod. But what if, this time, Lucifer was telling the truth? What if the phone call to Jacob, just like the projection through the stone, was all an elaborate illusion to lure all of them to their deaths? Lucifer was capable of as much. He was capable of anything.

“Am I?” Lucifer asked by way of response.

“What do you want from me?” No sense playing his game. If she asked him more questions, she couldn’t trust his answers.

He crossed the room in a heartbeat, his face reddening with anger. “What do I want? What do I want, Abigail?” The stench of rotting flesh rolled off his breath and filled her nostrils. “I want the Watchers I lost back. I want you back. But since I can’t have either of those things, I’m going to take what you won’t give. I’m going to steal your soul.”

She tried to step away from his tirade, but he wouldn’t allow it. He grabbed her elbow and held her firmly.

“You can’t have my soul. My soul is God’s now.” Instinctively, she touched the cross around her neck with her free hand. It was a wedding gift from Malini and Jacob, one she never took off. For her, it was a symbol of her redemption, a promise she had given her life to receive.

Lucifer laughed wickedly, brushing an errant blond curl from his aqua blue eyes. “Your soul is only God’s when you die. I have it until then.” He followed up the threat with a toothy grin that made the muscles in his perfect Greco-Roman profile tighten.

“What do you mean? Are you taking me to Hell?”

“Hell? Why would I take you to Hell? No one lives there anymore.”

Abigail jerked and shook her head. “You and the Watchers have to go back. You can’t stay here,” she sputtered.

“Things have changed, Abigail. The Great Oppressor and I have a new agreement, one that allows my Watchers and me to stay here as long as I desire. And now, I have you to keep me company.”

“I’m a prisoner here, in this penthouse?”

“The punishment should fit the crime.” He yanked her closer, until she turned her face away to avoid touching his chest. “
Prisoner
is too good a title for you. What I have in mind is something altogether more appropriate.”

With one hand, he drew a circle over her head, then another and another. Then he backed away. Abigail lurched with his movement. He’d taken something from her, but she wasn’t sure what. For a moment, the flesh over her heart burned as if someone had ripped a Band-Aid off. Her skin had wanted to go with it, tipping her on her toes. She couldn’t stop her momentum. Tripping forward, she tried to catch herself on Lucifer’s chest. But she didn’t stop; her body passed through his unhindered. She rushed forward, catching herself on the wall of windows behind him.

“What have you done to me?” she yelled. Her voice came out reedy and hollow.

Lucifer placed his hands in his pockets and stepped toward her. “Your new existence, Abigail, is for my pleasure. I am the only one who can see you or hear you. You will live out your days in this penthouse. I will feed you when it suits me and starve you when it doesn’t. I will keep you alive for my own entertainment.”

An icy paralysis crept from Abigail’s toes to her ears, and then gave way to heart-racing panic. She turned from the windows. “You can’t do this. Don’t do this!”

He tilted his head. “I can and I have.” He paced away from her, toward Cord who waited, watching, near the door.

“The Soulkeepers will come for me,” she yelled desperately.

Lucifer stopped. “The Soulkeepers think I’m boo-hooing in Hell over the Watchers they killed in Nod. They don’t even know I’m topside, and I intend to keep it that way.” From his pocket, he pulled an iridescent string, holding it taut between his fingers.

Abigail squinted. “What is that?”

“Thanks to this, Malini won’t be tracing you back here. Thanks to this, you are mine for good this time.”

Her life’s thread! He’d stolen it from Fate’s weaving. Abigail lost all sense of reason and lunged for him. Attacking Lucifer was suicide, but then death might be better than being his personal ghost for the rest of her natural life. She passed right through him again.

He cleared his throat, straightened his tie, and turned to Cord like he hadn’t even noticed. “You’re looking a little peaked. Let’s go get you someone to eat,” he said to the Watcher.

Cord straightened. “As you wish, My Lord.” His eyes drifted across the room, skipping right over her. “A stunning piece of sorcery. I can’t make her out at all.”

Lucifer patted Cord on the shoulder. “A stroke of genius on my part, solitary confinement with the added loss of her body. I’ll enjoy watching her slowly go mad in this place.”

Cord held the door open for Lucifer. “Brilliant. You are, as ever, the master of misery.”

As Lucifer led the way into the corridor, he didn’t so much as glance in her direction. The door whined as it closed, clicking shut behind them. Inside Abigail’s mind, the sound echoed louder than in real life: her coffin lid slamming into place.

* * * * *

“W
here should we start?” Jacob asked.

Malini turned a circle in the alley behind Laudner’s Flowers and Gifts, trying to think like Lucifer. Where would he ask her to go?

“He’d want to get her alone,” Malini thought out loud. “My first instinct is her old home, but she couldn’t travel by staff or reveal herself to anyone in the community, and it’s too far to walk.”

“Maybe Sunrise Park? You can walk there from here.”

Malini nodded. “As good a place to start as any.”

She took his hand and led the way out of the alley and toward Main Street. They’d just reached the crosswalk when a familiar voice called to them from the direction of Westcott’s grocery.

“Jacob? Malini, is that you?” Stephanie Westcott jogged across the street, her dark brown ponytail bouncing behind her. “What did you do to your hair?”

She didn’t say it in a hurtful way, but Malini crossed her arms over her chest nonetheless. “Got it cut. Trying something new.”

“It’s super cute!” Stephanie gave each of them a short hug, then wound a finger around one long, brown tress. “Maybe I should do that. Did you donate it to Locks of Love?”

“Something like that. It’s good to see you, Stephanie. I don’t want to be rude but we’ve got to get going.” Malini took a step into the street, tugging Jacob behind her.

“Oh. Are you going to meet Dr. Silva, er, I mean, Newman?” Stephanie asked.

Malini halted. “Have you seen her?”

“Yeah, she borrowed my scooter. Well, technically, she kind of stole it. I came out of the flower shop and saw her driving away. I figured she must need it for something important, so I’ve been hanging out at the store waiting. Was hoping she’d have it back by now.”

“Did you notice which direction she was headed?” Jacob asked.

“Ah, sure. That way.” Stephanie pointed over her shoulder and behind her.

Malini looked at Jacob. “The garden?”

He nodded.

“Thanks, Stephanie. If we see her, we’ll have her return your scooter to Westcott’s. I’m sure there is a reasonable explanation for why she took it without asking.”

“I didn’t even know she was in town. My mom will want to say hello. Is she staying with your family, Jacob?”

“No!” Jacob said, then softened at Stephanie’s widened eyes. “Sorry, she wanted us to keep her visit a secret. She’s only in town for a few hours, passing through on her way to the university. You know how it can be.”

Malini squeezed his hand encouragingly. “Right. She’ll be buried in pies and visitors and never make it to her meeting. I bet that’s why she borrowed your scooter without asking.”

Stephanie pursed her lips. The explanation didn’t completely make sense, but she nodded politely anyway. “So that’s why your uncle didn’t mention she was here. Rude that she didn’t make time to visit, but I’ll keep my mouth shut. Tell her I said hello.” She turned on her heel and headed back toward her family’s grocery store.

“She seems upset,” Jacob said.

Malini tugged his arm and began walking briskly toward Jacob’s truck parked in front of the flower shop. “After all she went through last summer, can you blame her for expecting Abigail to say hello when she’s in town? She was compelled to plunge a knife into Abigail’s chest. She helped battle our way out of Fermilab. She’s seen Watchers. And why wouldn’t Abigail use her own car if she was passing through town? Stephanie knew we were lying.”

“So she’s upset,” Jacob said smugly. “Should we be more supportive? I mean, she must be having a hard time with what happened considering she hasn’t gone back to college this semester.” Jacob climbed behind the wheel and pulled the keys from the visor.

Malini slid in beside him. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Fran Westcott wouldn’t let her go back.” She sighed. “We should reach out more, to Katrina too.”

As Jacob pressed the accelerator to the floor, he thought about that. “Maybe, when we’re not trying to find our dearest friend or save the world.”

Malini’s response crept quietly into the cab. “Agreed.” She ran her fingers over the glass of the window, watching the trees wiz by in a blur.

When they approached the house that used to be Abigail’s, Jacob spotted the scooter first. “There it is!” He parked behind it and jumped out of the cab. Malini followed, searching the woods behind the bike for any sign of her. She hiked into the maple grove, eyes sweeping the fallen leaves of the forest floor while Jacob did the same thing in the opposite direction.

A few yards into the tree line, Jacob called to her. “Hey, look at this.” He bent down to retrieve an object from the leaves near his feet.

Malini rushed to his side to see what it was. “A knife. This is from Eden. Abigail wouldn’t have dropped this if she could help it.”

“Look there.” Jacob pointed to a place where the leaves had been disrupted to reveal the mud below. “There was a struggle here.”

“A Watcher took her,” Malini said, sniffing the air.

He bobbed his head. “Sulfur. I smell it too.”

Malini paced in front of the spot, rubbing her chin. Abruptly, she dropped to the forest floor and crisscrossed her legs.

“What are you doing?” Jacob squatted in front of her. “Are you okay?”

“I need to go to the In Between. I’ll follow her thread to see where they’ve taken her. Then you and I are going to get her back.”

“She could be in Hell already. He could be holding her like he did Dane.” No one could go to Hell without being ushered in by the devil himself. Hell wasn’t like Nod. It was Lucifer’s domain as Heaven was God’s.

She grabbed his face and gave him a peck on the mouth. “Keep watch. I’m going over.”

The Challenge

M
alini tumbled into Fate’s stucco-walled villa with a painful jolt. She knew better than to make the journey to the In Between in her present emotional state, but time was of the essence. Every moment Abigail was with Lucifer posed a risk, but strong emotions made crossing between worlds uncomfortable. Her hate for Lucifer, the guilt for letting Warwick’s stone land in the wrong hands, and her fear for Abigail’s safety weighed heavily on her heart. All of that baggage traveled with her through the ether, like trying to swim in a snowsuit.

Eyes closed, she tried to quiet her mind, breathing deeply with her head between her knees. Once she’d composed herself, she walked the rows of fabric, searching for Abigail’s thread. Over time, she’d developed a method for finding things in the miles and miles of material. Hands stretched to her sides, she would trail her fingertips over the bolts of fabric, human years passing like Braille beneath her touch. Souls told their stories in every stitch. Abigail was thousands of years old, but she’d only been human a few months. Malini worked her way toward the newer bolts, waiting for the hypodermal tickle that would tell her she was touching the right one.

When she’d first become a Healer, she’d assumed one bolt of fabric must equal one human year, or at a minimum a consistent length of time. She was wrong. Destiny was a fickle fabric. Fate, as measured by the intersection of souls and the choices they made, increased in activity at certain times in history. The years during World War I and II took up an entire row of the warehouse-like space. The newest material wasn’t not necessarily at the front. The bolts were organized by significance, not time.

She wandered the rows, mind open, allowing the ancient part of herself to take over. A flash ran up the inside of her arm. She stopped, focusing on the roll her sixth sense told her corresponded to the current year. Carefully, she pinched the corners of the fabric, her arms spread-eagle to encompass the width, and unraveled the shimmering blue cloth. Lives blinked up at her. They flashed in and out of their silver-embroidered home like bits of binary code. She coasted her fingertips over the silky material, faces flashing through her mind in fast-forward as she read the world’s history.

She sifted through the threads of the last twenty-four hours, seeing Paris, Stephanie, Jacob, and a blur that she understood was herself. (A Healer’s fate was never to see her own past, present, or future clearly.) She’d gone too far. She needed to back up to before Abigail was taken. Sliding her fingers a few inches, she looked again for Abigail, concentrating on her friend’s image and allowing the deepest manifestation of her power to take control. Nothing. Abigail’s thread was nowhere to be found.