Soul Deep: Dark Souls, Book 2 (33 page)

“Going somewhere?” Thomas strutted toward Marcus, looking as smug and eager as a cat in the presence of a fat mouse.

Marcus whipped out his dagger, only to notice that it had been washed clean of angel’s blood.

“You’ve reached the end of the road.” Thomas smirked. “It’s over.”

“You’re wrong.” Marcus met the Watcher’s arrogant stare with one of his own. “It’s not over till I say it is.”

The Watchers drew closer, cutting off all escape routes, cornering Regan at the foot of the stairwell. She tried folding space, felt weakness shimmy through her and her knees quake. Her body was too busy fighting off the effects of angel’s blood to cooperate. Her power hinged on her ability to move exceptionally fast, something she couldn’t do when her energy levels were even slightly depleted.

“We can do this the easy way or the hard way,” one of them said, walking ahead of the others. “Come quietly and no one has to get hurt.”

“What about Ben?” She scanned the familiar faces encircling her. All of them wore grim, resolute expressions. She’d trained many of these Watchers herself. Now they would turn the skills she’d taught them against her.

“Cal’s plans for the boy haven’t changed. But you still have a chance to save yourself. Just tell us where the boy is.”

Her fingers tightened around her dagger. A dagger that now glistened with the red sheen of angel’s blood thanks to her encounter with the crazy angel woman. “You know I can’t do that.”

“Then you’ve just signed your own death warrant.”

The Watchers stopped negotiating and charged. She deflected their blows, ducking and sidestepping them, lunging and countering. Since she tended to rely a great deal on her ability to fold space, she wasn’t as quick or agile as usual, but her defense was nonetheless effective.

A Watcher swiped at the air over her head and she fell on her haunches, slicing him across the leg. He screamed, plunked to his knees. Two of them came at her from behind. Regan spun on her heels, kicked the weapons from their grasp, then cut one across the ribs and the other on the arm.

None of the wounds she inflicted were fatal. She had no desire to kill anyone. These men and women had once been her family, and she had a deep affection for each and every one of them, except perhaps for Thomas, who was conveniently absent.

For a second she faltered, crippled by remorse. She hated the pain she was causing her fellow Watchers. Hated that things had come to this, that her desire to protect one small human boy had put her at odds with everyone she knew and loved. But she couldn’t let Ben down. He needed her.

The Watchers boxed her in, leaving her with no choice—kill or be killed. Problem was, she couldn’t bring herself to murder these people in cold blood. They were only doing what they’d been ordered to do. Still, she couldn’t surrender. Not when Ben’s life was on the line.

With the force of a gale, the door flew open again, only this time it was Jace who entered, followed closely by Lia. “Stop.”

The Watchers directed confused glances his way.

Jace looked like he’d been through the wringer. His clothing was encrusted with mud, and a thick slash of dirt decorated his cheek. Lia didn’t look much better.

“What the hell are you doing here?” one of the Watchers asked. “You’re not part of this.”

“I’m here to help.” He met Regan’s gaze, gave her a reassuring nod.

“Her or us?” another Watcher challenged.

“Everyone. Enough blood has been shed among us. There’s an easier way.” Jace walked through the tight circle of Watchers to where she stood, trapped in the center. “You’re outnumbered, Regan. There’s no way you’re getting out of this alive if you fight them. But if you turn yourself in, there’s a really good chance you’ll live to fight another day. Cal gave me his word.”

Regan couldn’t believe Jace was actually telling her to throw in the towel, to go against everything she believed in, to turn her back on a little boy who was counting on her. “I can’t do that.”

“I know Ben matters to you,” he said. “But he’s dangerous. His energy needs to be contained or there’s no telling what he’ll do.”

Regan’s stomach sank. “I thought you were on my side.”

“I
am
on your side.” Jace’s pained expression only made this whole sordid mess worse. “That’s why I can’t stand by and watch you get killed.”

“Then convince them to let me walk away.” If anyone could pull off a feat like that, it was Jace.

“They’ll only track you again.” His expression was firm and unyielding. “You know I’m right, Regan. If the Watchers don’t kill you, Kyros will. Hell, there’s a good chance Ben will incinerate you himself. I know better than anyone how powerful a twin soul can be, especially when it’s been forged by an archangel. I watched Athanatos fry, remember? The last thing I want is to see that happen to you.”

Lia cut through the circle of Watchers until she stood in front of Regan. “Listen to him,” she urged. “Cal might’ve gone about this the wrong way, but he knows more about souls than any of us. And he’s convinced Ben’s life-force could prove lethal.”

Maybe they were all right, but something within Regan compelled her to keep fighting the inevitable. A deep-seated compulsion drove her, drowning out the voice of reason and pushing her to see this through, no matter what.

“I can’t let Cal kill him.” She tightened her grip on the dagger, raised it defiantly. “I promised Ben I’d keep him safe. Please, Jace, don’t force me to fight you, too.”

“I won’t force you to fight me.” Her son exhaled long and hard, hanging his head in defeat. “I’m going to force you to save yourself.”

Her blood ran cold. “And how are you planning to do that?”

He captured her gaze, and everything within Regan recoiled in shock. “Drop your weapon,” he ordered.

His power took hold, slithered into her mind, as venomous as his betrayal. She fought against it, struggled to break the eye contact even as it ensnared her with its hypnotic power. Tears dampened her lashes, threatened to spill on to her cheeks. “Don’t do this, Jace. Please.”

His inner conflict scrolled across his face, a devastating duel that was painful to watch. “I order you to surrender.”

This time his suggestion took root, and the knife slipped from her fingers and clattered against the terracotta tiles. Taking advantage of Regan’s temporary brain freeze, one of the Watchers rammed a gloved hand into his pocket and yanked out a spool of copper wire, which he secured around her wrists. Their kind had a severe intolerance to copper. It sapped them of their strength, preventing them from using their unique abilities. Even if Regan hadn’t been weakened by angel’s blood, she would have been incapable of folding space.

“Why?” she asked Jace. “Why did you do this to me?” Acid tears throbbed behind her eyes. She wasn’t sure if it was the unstable souls she’d ingested or her son’s betrayal that threatened to open the floodgates, but whatever it was, it hurt like hell.

“Ask her where the boy is.” Regan wasn’t sure who had spoken the command, and she didn’t care.

“Please, Jace.” Her voice hitched. “Don’t make me betray Ben the way you just betrayed me.”

His face crumpled. “I’m sorry.” Remorse twisted his features, as did a steel-coated determination. “Last summer, you did everything you could to save me from my own pigheadedness. It’s time I return the favor, even if you end up hating me for it.” He took a deep breath. “Tell me where Ben is.”

A scream echoed from her throat, right before the words she fought to hold back spilled from her mouth. “At Adrian’s. Unit 12B.”

The dam broke, and Regan began to openly sob. “I trusted you.” It hurt to speak, but she did so anyway because some things had to be said. “More than anyone. I trusted you.”

Her son’s broken expression mirrored her own. A silent apology flickered in his eyes before he turned away. “I know.”

They came at him as one, six Watchers, their bloody blades poised and ready. Thomas was in the lead, his face an ugly grimace brimming with satisfaction. “You’re going down, Marcus. It’s time you accept it.”

Marcus had had enough of this ridiculous game. Ben was missing, Regan needed him, and he was out here engaged in a cock fight with a prick. Raising his hand, he sent a startled Thomas flying through the window of the house he’d just exited. The sound of glass shattering pierced the quiet morning. Broken shards rained down on the cobblestone walkway, glimmering as they caught the light.

The others continued to charge toward him, but he raised an invisible wall, trapping them within. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he told them. “So back off.”
 

With a ferocious growl, Thomas crawled out the window, pissed but unharmed. He briskly stripped off his leather jacket, which now dripped with angel’s blood. He’d been carrying an extra vial in his pocket, and the fall had broken it. The son of bitch had luck on his side. The thick leather had protected him from the burning effects of the blood. Extending his arm, he held the jacket as far from his body as possible. The reddish-brown substance fell like rain to splatter the broken glass.

Thomas noticed it, too. He dropped the jacket, a vicious smile cleaving his face. By the time Marcus realized what the bastard was planning, glass whizzed toward him at impossible speed. The shards slammed into him, cut him open, embedded themselves in his skin. He fell to his knees, flames licking the undersides of his flesh, heat traveling through his system to incapacitate him.

The world flitted in and out of focus. Marcus heard someone scream his name, raised his eyes to see Regan being dragged down the walkway, her hands bound. Sunlight kissed her hair, made it glow like the fire burning beneath his skin. He willed his eyes to stay open, but they failed to listen.

The flames consumed him, bringing with them disturbing flashes from the past. Memories of a powerful blaze ignited within him. Memories of Regan’s charred body sizzling beside his, of her skin melting to ash even as his own refused to burn.

Then his body went limp and blackness swept in to obliterate thought.

Chapter Forty-One

Back at Cascade Head, Regan paced outside Marcus’s old room at the complex, feeling like she’d just had the daylights pummeled out of her. Her own son had betrayed her, Ben had disappeared without a trace, and the man she loved was in there fighting for his life. How had things gone so terribly wrong?

“How’s he doing?” Jace came to stand beside her, talking to her like nothing was wrong, like he hadn’t just stabbed her in the back.

“I don’t know. Lia is still in there with him.” Using the catacombs Jace had resurrected, they’d carried Marcus back to the complex in a matter of minutes, and Lia had promptly gotten to work extracting the glass from his flesh. The Watchers Regan had injured were also slowly recovering, but none was in a worse state than Marcus.

“Any news on Ben?” Some of the Watchers had stayed behind to retrieve the boy, only to find Adrian’s townhouse deserted. She prayed Marcus had sensed the Watchers coming and had instructed Adrian to take the boy and flee.

“The Watchers have searched the entire townhouse development and surrounding areas. They’ve turned up nothing.”

Relief swept through her, followed by a slow throb of fear. What if she was wrong? What if Ben wasn’t with Adrian? What if someone else had abducted him, like the crazy angel woman who’d assaulted her?

“About what happened today—” Jace inched toward her, and Regan promptly took a step back. She needed him to understand that—even though she was speaking to him—all was not forgotten.

He got the message loud and clear. Pain and regret darkened his gaze to emerald green. “I hope one day you’ll understand why I did it.”

“I understand. I just can’t forgive you for it.”

The door to Marcus’s room swung open, and Lia walked out, wearing a bloodied lab coat and a sullen expression.

Regan approached her. Her throat suddenly grew so tight it hurt to swallow. “Marcus?” she rasped.

Lia gave her a reassuring nod. “He’s alive.” She rubbed her palm over her weary face. “I managed to remove the glass—thirty-six pieces in all. If we hadn’t traveled via the catacombs and I hadn’t gotten to work on him so quickly—” she shook her head, “—the prognosis wouldn’t have been good.”

Regan’s eyes burned, but she couldn’t bring herself to cry. “Can I see him?”

Compassion softened Lia’s features. “Sure, but he’s still unconscious. It could be days before he recovers fully.”

“I understand. I just need to be with him.” Regan swallowed past the bitter lump in her throat, wondering if she’d made a mistake revealing her affection for Marcus. In her world, affection equaled weakness. But right now, she didn’t give a damn. She had to see him, to hold his hand, to hear his heart beating and know he was going to be all right.

Walking past Lia, she padded into the room, feeling Jace’s sad gaze on her back, ignoring the prickle of unease it elicited within her. The motherly urge to soothe his conscience gripped her, but she tamped it down. Her son’s well-deserved feelings of guilt were the least of her worries right now.

Cal had a difficult time wrapping his brain around everything that had transpired this past hour. A hodgepodge of information had come at him from different sources. As predicted, Jace had disobeyed a direct order and had used his abilities to rebuild the catacombs, making his way to Spokane in time to intercept Cal’s team. Marcus had gotten injured in battle, and Thomas had been the one to incapacitate him. Most worrisome of all, Ben had gone missing, and the Watchers were no closer to locating him.