Soul Stealer (12 page)

Claudia had always been strong but holy hell she could deliver a punch. She caught him with a stinger of a right and his cheekbone exploded in a white-hot surge, bringing stars to his eyes. She rolled him to his back, straddling his hips, delivering a left that was a bit weaker but enough to make him pause twice as long before blocking the right that was coming next.

He caught both of her arms, and she stilled, breathing hard and glaring down at him. Under normal circumstances he would have loved to keep her on top of him, but she became aware that he was aroused around the same time he realized his erection hadn’t abated during their struggle.

She didn’t get disgusted right away, which made him feel even worse as he cold-cocked her just enough to knock her out. He helped her lay down though, not letting her just drop. Wasn’t that nice of him?

Briefly he shuffled through her memory banks, calling up a report she read on what happened in this very apartment. They’d taken the unknown Caucasian male to a hospital that he knew the name of quite well.

He hoped like hell Doctor Vinnie was off today.

After making sure she was going to be okay by shuffling through a few more levels, Voro tried to erase her memory of having seen him. But of course it didn’t work. Shit. She was going to remember all of it. That might get messy. Damn angels and their Rules of Engagement.

He got to his feet and started back down the hallway to the bedroom, his bell still ringing from being used as a punching bag. He already knew he was too late. There was nothing back there. It had heard him coming and fled the scene.

Chapter Twelve

The human woman had been strong but not afraid. He had liked luring her to the back room of the apartment. She was resolute in her commitment to possibly die. She hadn’t wanted to but she felt driven to perform her duties. She had the cool, organized mind of a leader, or as they were more commonly called in this time; law enforcement; those who protected the innocent and upheld civil order.

She had misguided faith in the firearm she held out in a steady grip, however. She truly believed she was safe if she kept control of the man-made machine of destruction.

It couldn’t hurt him of course, but she didn’t really know what she’d been approaching. Her fear would have been sweet liquor to him, her strength like raw meat to a predator. She would have been delicious …

Until the other showed up. Now he was interesting. He gave no regular human brain waves to follow. His aggression was thrown off without apology or control. This being h
e recognized as one of his own; a Sin Eater.

With a big difference. Where darkness usually dwelled in the chest of evil like a sucki
ng black void, this being was
not
empty. This man was somehow being fulfilled.

Impossible. The more he scanned this wonder, the more he felt the warmth and concern the being had for the human female, almost as though he actually cared, which couldn’t be right. The being should have been indifferent.

The concern rose to a level of arousal as the Sin Eater lured the human woman away, in the opposite direction of what was logically waiting for her.

He felt his frustration with the Sin Eater rise. She was his, not a plaything for some Sin Eater. As their physical altercation played out in the front room he decided it was too much hassle to deal with if the Sin Eater decided to play rough with him. The male and female were clearly attracted to each other, and yet the Sin Eater knocked her unconscious, for her own good to be sure. His regret was a sour sting; such wasted energy.

He sent his molecules out of the building, towards a patch of this metropolis that was like a beacon to his nature. This was where the human horde emptied its bowels of putrid intentions and filthy deeds. You never shat where you ate, and this was apparently where people shat on a grand scale. The disgusting blocks of crumbling buildings and immorality felt so much like home.

Something other than sinning was happening here, however. A twinge of a different activity made itself known, and he directed his energies downward. Another Sin Eater mingled among the humans, mixing with the masses, certainly on the clock to relieve humans of their sin-filled baggage. He flipped through this Sin Eater’s mind, tasting the difference between this one and the last one immediately. This was a pit that sucked evil, to be sure. He was completely indifferent to the people who watched him. Not scared that they meant to injure, kill or rob him. His head only turned when a human woman would press in to him with not much clothing between their swollen breasts and him. Indifferent but led by the meat between his legs.

Even when he’d been whole he’d never felt that draw. He’d partaken but not often. Nothing brought him lower than the taste of blood and raw flesh. It was his answer to copulation.

The Sin Eater owned an abode – a compartment really, in one of these tall glass and concrete palaces. He sought out an idea of where it was and went ahead to surprise the Sin Eater.

Sometimes it was nice to have a friend helping you out.

Saleem shifted the gym bag to his other shoulder, pointing the key fob to his Audi and pressing the unlock button. It flashed lights and honked in greeting, and with another button press the trunk popped open as well.

He tossed the gym bag into the trunk, slammed it shut, and the hair on the back of his neck jumped to attention almost immediately as he heard a shoe scuff on pavement behind him.

He turned, hearing rather than seeing the fleece-lined arm that swung at him. A good thing he spun fast. He blocked the arm and pushed back, his fist delivering a shot to exposed ribs. One might have cracked a bit, he couldn’t be sure. The attacker backed up, arm across his stomach.

Saleem’s breathing came evenly. He’d exhaled sharply with his swing, the attacker had not. More than a hit to the ribs; surely he was winded now.

The other man came at him from the right. Saleem dropped his stance low, anticipating the movement and delivering a well-placed shot to a many-times-over-broken nose, feeling the cartilage shift. This man howled, covering his face as blood gushed down his chin then between his fingers. He fell to his knees.

The third man was a surprise. He tackled Saleem from behind, driving his face down towards the trunk of the car.  Saleem was able to use a hand to prevent the knock-out attempt, then swung his head up and backward in to his attacker. He caught the man’s forehead. He knew it was the forehead because it was so solid Saleem saw stars for a moment and shook his head a-la Road Runner to clear his brain.

Saleem pushed his weight away from the car, and the man behind him stumbled but moved away quickly. Saleem brought his fists up, taking stock of the situation again. The first guy was back on his feet. The guy with the broken nose wasn’t getting up. His pain threshold had apparently been exceeded.

Okay, so just the two then.

His breathing was
labored now, but so were the other two. The three of them all wore ball caps and hoodies, and with the orange light of the parking lot casting very stark shadows it was nearly impossible to tell what they looked like. He knew by their hands they were Caucasian and liked plaid jackets and work boots.

That didn’t exactly guarantee a possible I.D.

“Okay sand nigger,” one man spat out with almost surprising intensity. “Just hand over the keys.”

“Who exactly has the upper hand here,” Saleem wanted to know, in fight stance, knowing full well that he cut at the very least an intimidating figure. Even though he hadn’t been in a fight since he got beaten up in the fifth grade by Graham Findley.

It didn’t matter. Many a person had been stared down by Saleem, based solely on his stoic face and size.

One man reached in his jacket and Saleem felt his first real twinge of panic. If there was a weapon coming out of that pocket he was fucked.

Yup, fucked.

It was a handgun. Saleem knew nothing about them. The other one still on two feet pulled out a switchblade.

Really fucked.

“What do you want?” Saleem asked, dropping the fists and the aggression.

“Your keys,” the one sporting a blade snapped.

Saleem looked in his left hand. He still had them grasped tight. He’d been fighting with them and hadn’t realized it.

Saleem tossed them to the one with the knife, then put both his hands up, palms facing them. “There. Take it. It’s just a car.”

The one with the renovated profile got to his feet. “Let’s fucking go guys,” he sputtered, his voice thick and wet. Bleeding down his throat, maybe.

The guy with the blade circled around the front of the Audi to the passenger side. Saleem let the guy with the gun herd him out of the path of the car, circling behind the ride, gun still extended.

Saleem walked slowly, facing him the whole time, walking backwards with hands still up. When the assailant paused, Saleem stopped too.

The movement was very quick. The butt of the handle caught his cheekbone, white light exploding somewhere just outside his vision, seeping inward and threatening to completely blind him.

He didn’t feel the ground as it caught him. All he heard was the man muttering “Rag head” before getting in the car. He didn’t even hear them drive away: the white light softened everything and white noise eased him to sleep.

Clean bill of health, he’s ready to go home.

Patrice held her sigh as the doctor told her patient everything was fine and that they had to release him the next day. And that was them being more than generous.

Other than a men’s shelter, he had nowhere to go. No one to look out for him. He didn’t even know who he was to begin with.

Her heart was about to make her do something stupid. Or maybe it was something lower than her heart. Her brain was trying to be heard but the rest of her was readying for betrayal.

The doc left and she studied her rescuer’s face. He seemed slightly oblivious to her, and completely unaware of what could happen to him outside the hospital walls.

Patrice needed to take care of him, she knew that.

“So … nothing has come back to you then?” She asked, shocked at the smallness of her voice.

He turned to her, remembering her suddenly. “Sorry, I wandered off there.”

“It’s okay. I’m sure you’re likely a little worried about a lot of things at once.”

He shrugged those heavy shoulders, and the sheet pulled down a bit. She caught sight of that collarbone again, and the image caught her attention in almost an embarrassing way.

“You need a safe place to go,” she said. “Have they talked to you about shelters?”

“Yeah. They’ve also told the police to watch for any missing persons being reported that look like me.”

Yeah, those will certainly stand out
, she thought, measuring the size of him versus the oversized hospital bed.
Good thing I bought a king size bed,
she thought abstractly.

Stop it.

“This likely sounds crazy,” she began, and instantly hated the choice of words. Nothing sounds crazier than a woman announcing she’s about to say something crazy.

He was looking at her without expectation but all of his attention. She cleared her throat and tried again.

“I mean, you need somewhere safe to go. I have an apartment. You can … you can stay with me while we wait to see if your memory comes back, or once any family comes forward … if you have family.”

The patient’s eyes flicked back to her, his surprise obvious.

“Or not,” she rambled on, suddenly desperate for the ability to turn back time and delete stupid comments she made occasionally. “You know, it might seem strange since I don’t know you and I’m single and -”

He gave a low chuckle. “You are very kind. But isn’t that dangerous? Letting people into your home that you don’t know?”

Patrice swallowed hard. “Probably. But … do you remember if you’re dangerous or not?”

His laugh rumbled again. “I don’t remember. I don’t think so. But maybe I’m a liar, too.”

“I don’t get that feeling from you.”

“What feeling?”

“The feeling that you’re lying or hiding something. Or that you’re dangerous.  Or that you would hurt me.”

His eyes
leveled on her. He rearranged his legs, futzing with the sheets on his lap. She tried not to stare at his hands, but they were golden, lovely and strong-looking. Even his fingernails were beautiful.  Then she realized he was squirming, likely because of what she just said, and he further made her feel terrible by replying, “That’s good. Because I wouldn’t.”

Patrice nodded, eager to end this awkward encounter even through it would only continue long-term once they released him. “Good then. You’re out of here tomorrow and you can stay with me until we figure out a plan for you. I hope someone will come along and claim you.”

“Thank you, Patrice,” he said, voice lowered. “You’re a very kind woman.”

She turned from the beside before she could start grinning like a goon, reaching the door just as it swung inward.

Patrice jumped back, actually gasping from the surprise. Then she felt her face color. The man at the door filled the opening with wide shoulders and his substantial height. He looked down at her, slightly surprised by her as well. He was swarthy but handsome, certainly. And were those eyes purple?

“Sorry,” he apologized in a voice so deep it vibrated her very bones.  “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

His gaze was warm. She felt her blood quicken again, and she ducked her head. “No worries, really. Don’t think of it.”

She darted around him and into the hallway, not looking back and willing her cheeks to stop burning.