Soul Stealer (35 page)

“So what’s the next step? Let’s you and I take this new, weird, metaphysical approach. What can we do next?”

“You don’t think I’m nuts?”

“Not at all.”

“We need to talk to one person who will no-holds-barred tell me I’m fucking crazy when I tell her this.”

“Who’s that?”

“Sergeant Claudia Bauer. She was there before and I’m willing to bet she remembers more than she lets on.”

Chapter Thirty-Three

Claudia eyed the pair of tall and beautiful men who had appeared in Saleem’s room warily, which might seem odd normally, but for some indescribable reason she had no fear of these two. How’d they get in? Doesn’t matter. Do they mean her any harm? Nope, none at all. Her brain just accepted it.

“I am Tzaphqiel,” said the one whose hair was a touch longer, nearly to his butt.  It didn’t sound like he spoke in words, just music really.

“I’m Lazai,” the other one piped up. Jesus, were their eyes yellow?

“Listen, I don’t know what this is about but -”

Tzaphqiel raised a hand gently, making Saleem button it down. He waited, turning those golden eyes back to Claudia. “I see you can sense what we are?”

She somewhat laughed, more of a humored exhale than anything. “I have no idea what’s going on.”

Both the men looked at her, and her double-vision sense kicked in. They were perfectly identical and not human. Her brain wanted to struggle, insisting that they were just regular people. But she knew they weren’t.

Acceptance flooded through her, warm and coppery like a summer sunset or a mother’s hug. Or both. She felt fine. Better than fine; she was completely at peace. No fear, and even if she didn’t understand these two she recognized them as hers.

She realized Saleem was staring at her, and when she looked at him something slid down her cheek. She was weeping without sobbing and hadn’t realized it until then.

“Claudia?”

She sniffled and the dam broke open. “What is this? What’s happening to me?” The twins smiled so sweetly, and she gave them her full attention again. “My God,” she whispered. “What is this?”

“This is you coming in to your own and realizing your purpose. We need you to come with us.” Lazai gave the answer, and she believed him.

“Okay,” she whispered.

“Claudia,” Saleem’s voice wasn’t alarmed; he was just worried about her. She turned to him, smiling sadly.

“Can’t you feel it?” She all but breathed out. “It’s beautiful. Just let them in.” As she said it she recognized Saleem as one of them, even if they looked nothing alike. His skin was glowing with a gold hue too – so warm. Safe. But he hadn’t stopped fighting it yet.

She raised her hand up, and her own olive skin crawled with the same sheen. It felt like sparks along her skin. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, the electricity washing through her better than a good nights’ sleep or an amazing orgasm; just peace. Contentment. Calm that she could never remember having before.

“Claudia,” Saleem’s voiced was awed now, and when she opened her eyes she saw it. He let it in, too. His eyes were flashing with yellow, like the two men. She expected that meant hers were, too.

She smiled at him, which he returned, so beautiful she wanted to cry again. Jesus, this felt like a really good LSD trip or something. Saleem grasped her hand on his cheek with his own, and she watched a tear roll down his cheek, too.

In unison they turned to their nocturnal visitors, expectant. Claudia was ready to follow them through fire if they asked her to. She knew without speaking Saleem was in agreement. They belonged to these two somehow. And they would all take care of each other.

Praesul tracked Essum silently, hoping the smell of blood hadn’t stuck to him too strongly. The young girl he’d just drained had been lovely and nearly pure sunshine. Her initial struggles against him, while futile, had been an exhilarating challenge as well. Like a good fist fight to a bar brawler; it got him going. Or however they put it these days.

The woman at the hospital’s prayers had s
haken him. He had left feeling scrambled. The prayers of the believers had that effect. If she’d been praying for him to live he likely could have taken her soul and been done; her soul had been almost as strong as an angel’s. After Praesul recognized her as a
frustro
it made sense. And it explained why, when he tried to get in, she’d been on lockdown. Her powers were stronger with Essum around. She was meant to destroy him. Well, that might come in handy.

At the moment Praesul’s Sin Eater was wandering the streets, aimlessly making circles in the downtown filthy parts of the city. He was Sin Eating, yes. But even on such a mission his path seemed strange.

Praesul took a moment to laugh when he realized Essum was leading him on a wild goose chase, or whatever the term might be now. He was leading him far from the part of town they’d been in, and he wasn’t trying to find anyone, clearly. He was killing Praesul’s time.

Essum was smarter than Praesul thought. Interesting. But there was another signature he could follow too – it was like Essum’s but very different.

The Sin Eater Angel was easier to find. His signature was bright, once Praesul let his molecules scatter and ride on the wind. He shone like an angel and when Praesul locked in he realized that particular Sin Eater was surrounded by angels.

His mouth could have watered. He recognized it as a trap immediately, but nature was nature and he couldn’t ignore all that essence; more than enough to finish him and make him the walking God he was meant to be.

There was also the
frustro
. Without Essum she’d be an easier target than four angels and a converted Sin Eater. All she had for protection was an angel who had been stripped of his divine powers. But if she started praying again –

Plus, she wasn’t guaranteed to complete his development. An angel would be all he needed and more.

As he sent his matter in the direction of the other Sin Eater, something shifted. It caused a ripple to flow through him, and for a moment he wondered if there wasn’t a thunderstorm coming. It felt like approaching power. And destruction of catastrophic proportions. He paused, hovering as he was, an invisible puff of evil matter. This was something dangerous to him directly. He had to get it together, and right now. Walking into a den of angels or no, the time had come to take action. Best to approach carefully.

Patrice waited for the camera crew to step out yelling “Surprise!” Or for Ralph to start laughing and telling her he was just kidding and playing a horrible, cruel joke on her. But his face was cast downwards, studying his hands in his lap. He did look like a cherub almost, a beat-up and bruised one, but still quite lovely to look at. And perfect.

She remembered then her brother and his chattering about angels and sins and evil that clung to skin like a bad, thick, oily smell. No one could smell it, but he could. And he could get it to go away, too, just by thinking it. Mental illness. Craziness. Psychosis. Delusions of grandeur.

Ralph was more functional than her brother had been. Her brother couldn’t maintain a conversation without breaking off and rambling about things he’d seen other people do; acts that he had relieved them of.
Gone but not forgotten
, she could still hear him muttering.

She had assumed it was guilt over the death of the stranger he’d shoved, all because the guy was shaking a woman by the arm. The story kept changing over how physical it had actually gotten. But the man had fallen, hit his head hard, and died. That was the final straw for poor Patrick.

Patrick had insisted that was when his ability to track evil had begun.

Hearing Ralph speak this nonsense brought her back to that state, and she wanted to weep as she
thought that same old refrain:
He’s out of his ever-loving mind.

Ralph got to his feet and tried to approach her, and that did make her cry out, holding a hand up pitifully. It froze him, and she could track his heartbreak on his face.

That hurt her most of all. He did think he loved her. And she was starting to think the feeling was mutual but she was not strong enough for this. She was struggling to understand what she herself had seen and felt back in the psych ward.

“Patrice …” he began weakly, and she covered the sob that had nearly escaped. His tone changed to resignation. “Okay. I’ll leave you alone. I promise. But please, stay somewhere hidden, okay? I’ll try to let you know somehow when you’re safe. And if I can’t, I’ll get one of my brothers to do it.”

Brothers. Yes, of course. Angels. They’ll just ring her up for the “all’s clear.” Olly-olly oxen free!

He left the room, leaving her weeping, sitting on the edge of the hospital bed. Patrice had a moment of irrational worry that he might go off and get himself hurt but then her self-preservation kicked in.

She let him go.

Raphael held on until the doors of the elevator shut. When he was alone, he let the tears come.

She’d broken his heart. This was the other side of being human; the sensation of real, unavoidable pain. The look on Patrice’s face as he’d laid everything bare would haunt him forever. Pity. Fear. Horror. Pain.

It was good he’d left. It was good he’d made sure she would sever him from her life. It was good he’d scared the crap out of her. It would keep her safe.

If it was the right thing to do, how come it hurt so much?

The lights and bells in the elevator let him know he was almost to the hospital lobby. He sniffed and wiped his eyes, tried to look normal. He managed to get through the lobby without drawing attention, and once he was out onto the darkened street he knew people wouldn’t give him a second look. So he just wandered.

He tried to focus on the faces of people he passed, but he found he couldn’t worry or care about them too much. They weren’t Patrice. Everyone else he could only feel sad for.

When a woman in a very short skirt asked him if he needed a date, he almost cried. She mistook his longing gaze for interest. Raphael simply said, “Life is so beautiful. Why are you letting other people use you instead of just being alive?”

She had blinked, stumbled back on heels, and burst into tears. He just kept walking.

Essum saw him first. Raphael was incredibly vulnerable without his powers, but for some reason Essum stepped out in front of him and just stood in his way, staring at him.

Raphael could have tried to get away. There were still quite a few humans around, but he remained rooted to the ground, and Raphael had to look around, wondering where the real boss was and whether he was about to be sent back to the hereafter.

“Where is he?” h
e finally asked.

“Praesul?”

“Whatever. Yes.”

“I don’t know. I felt him following me for a while then he took off.”

“You can feel him? Even when he’s not solid?”

“Yeah. Like a swarm of gnats over my shoulder.”

Raphael shoved his hands in his pockets. “What are you doing here?”

“Voro’s hiding the doc. I tried to keep Praesul distracted until they could find somewhere to hole up for a while.”

“Why are you helping us?”

Essum laughed. “Self-preservation, friend.” He tilted his head. “You seem awfully down. That’s not like you.”

“I had to walk away from Patrice.” Essum just nodded. Raphael felt a strange anger roll up to his shoulders. “Stay away from her, Essum. I saw how you looked at her.”

The prick just chuckled. “I learned that lesson once already. She’s my
frustro
, Raphael. I have no problem staying away from her.”

That made Raphael pause. “Really?”

Essum nodded. “Yeah. You guys work fast. I haven’t even had a full year on this side. And then BAM – there’s my biggest threat.”

Raphael felt the hard set of his own jaw and he tried to loosen it. “Okay then. That’s good.”

“Where are you going? This is a pretty bad part of town, and you look like a target that wouldn’t put up much of a fight.”

Raphael just shrugged. “Doesn’t matter.”

“I have an idea where Voro went, if you’re interested.”

Raphael thought it over, and decided he should at least make himself useful. “Sure. Where is he?”

“Remember where Claudia lived? That hot little piece of ass Voro had- ”

“That’s enough, Essum.”

“Okay, good. You do know who I mean. I’m pretty sure he’s there, or in the apartment of that
frustro
of his. He took the doctor there.”

Raphael didn’t know if Essum knew who the doctor truly was, and he wasn’t playing that card. Essum nodded. “Okay. You head there. And don’t worry about Patrice.”

That brought Raphael’s head up. “Why? What does that mean?”

Essum sighed. “Because she’s my
frustro
, Raphael. I’m programmed to want her and protect her. That’s the way of things. It’s in my biology.”

“Can you stop Praesul?”

Essum smiled. “I can make a heck of a lot of noise that should bring your friends running to the playground if it comes to that, so yeah. I’ve got it taken care of.”