Soul Stealer (39 page)

“No minutes, no waiting. Get the hell out of here. I mean it. You’re not equipped for this.”

“Vance,” Claudia chimed in. “Trust me on this. This isn’t what we’re used to. This is Twilight Zone shit. I don’t know what’s going on myself really but you have to trust me. You’ll be in danger, really big bad stuff that you can’t possibly understand.”

“Are you in danger?”

Voro studied the uniformed cop now, curious about his tone. He was blatantly concerned. Unapologetic.

“We’re all in danger. But the whole world is done for if we don’t do this.”

The cop didn’t believe Claudia, it was obvious. But after staring at her head on, he nodded. “We’ll watch the garage entry. Make sure no civilians wander in.”

Voro was going to argue that, but Claudia shot him a look that shut him up. It was the only way these two weren’t wandering into a battle royale between heaven and hell, so it would have to do.

“What about police?” Claudia asked.

Voro motioned with one hand. “They’re right here.”

Claudia shook her head. “Vance, call dispatch. Tell them reports of gunshots are being investigated and tell them not to send anyone else. They can say it was just firecrackers or something. Tell them to let callers know the police have already checked into it.”

“Fine,” Voro said, then turned to the angels in the room. “You guys need to get the hell out of here. Go home and don’t come back unless we’re all dead.”

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Saleem watched the man named Voro give instructions, arguing with their new friends about his order sending them “home.” The feeling of happy-happy was fading fast. He was itchy and twitching, nowhere near relaxed.

No one had said it, but this was something important they were about to do. This was on-par with saving the world, and no one was rolling their eyes at the hyperbole. This could very well be the end of the world as people knew it.

That thing, Praesul, wasn’t just a bad guy who ran a gang or sold guns or drugs. He wanted the world ruined, beautiful things spoilt, goodness destroyed for all time. He would enslave the entire human race and live off their devotion and flesh as long as he wanted.

Saleem remembered his dream; he remembered saving people from the reliance on that kind of evil. Breaking the spell and freeing them was one of the most amazing feelings of ecstasy …

He had to do it again. There was no question.

“Voro, we can’t leave it all to you -” a stunning blonde was saying through clenched teeth.

“You will complete his development. We can’t take that chance. You said yourself: one shot through the heart with a heavenly artifact. I mean, how fucking hard is that going to be? And if this little
jinn
trick of yours is legit they should be a major assist for me.”

Saleem had been surprised to hear the term
jinn
. He remembered his grandmother saying it when describing the conscience; the angel and devil on each of your shoulders; the voices of reason. Genies, too. But she didn’t believe in granted wishes. People make their own dreams come true; heaven has no time to make life easier for you.

He studied the knife in his hand. It wasn’t large, but it felt like it was made to be there. He knew he could kill something with it, and other than rec boxing he had no real training in any form of self-defense. Where the confidence came from he had no idea.

“So save me your concern, sweetheart,” Voro was snarling at the woman. “You might get that whole ‘drop dead’ wish fulfilled.”

The tall and incredibly dark-skinned man put a hand on Voro’s shoulder. “You don’t need to do this thing. I am prepared to die as well.”

Voro’s respect for the man was evident in his voice. “I know you are. I don’t doubt your dedication or bravery. But if he gets one of you, that’s it. He’s too close to being done like dinner, and I’d rather take him out like this; when he’s close and cocky, but still vulnerable. Maybe even careless.”

The taller man nodded, putting his hand on the shoulder of the blonde woman. “You know he is right, Anael. We have to get out of here.”

“Then why did we bother coming here in the first place?” She snapped, throwing off his touch. “If we’re not going to take him out what’s the point?”

The scarred man took her by the arm, leading her off to talk to her quietly. A tall black woman with a nearly-shaved-clean head approached Voro, placing her hands on his chest. Her eyes were wide without giving away very much. “Voro,” she said softly, eyes familiar with him. “If you do this -”

Voro took her hands from his chest. “Gazardiel,” he said gently. “Whatever happens, I need your help. You know I’m right. Get them all out of here. Okay?”

She nodded, running her eyes over his face. “You’re brave,” she whispered.

“Just stupid,” he corrected, making her smile. “Now help me get them all the fuck out of here.”

She did. She and the others not-so-calmly gathered in one corner of the room, and then as Saleem and the others watched, they blipped out of sight as if they’d never been there in the first place.

He shouted at that, but really by this point nothing should have been startling anymore. He exchanged a glance of what the hell with Claudia.

“Let’s just go,” Voro growled, adjusting the strap on his crossbow and starting for the door. “Waiting around doesn’t make this any less stupid.”

Saleem followed him without question. He recognized the officer in uniform; he’d taken Saleem’s statement after his car was stolen, Constable Vance. But the man in a rumpled suit he didn’t know, and that one wasn’t convinced entirely.

“Wait up a minute,” he interjected, stepping in front of Voro. “Vance, we gotta call in back-up -”

“No back-up,” Claudia snapped. “Trust me … whoever you are -”

“Detective Nailor, Sergeant Bauer. And until someone explains all the smoke and mirrors shit to me I’m not letting anyone leave.”

“Not your call, Detective,” Voro returned icily, stepping chest-to-chest with the man who was about fifty pounds under his weight class. To his credit the detective just jutted his chin upward to meet Voro’s glare.

“It is my call. I can’t let you all leave until I know what just happened here.”

Vance put a hand on his arm to calm him down but it was Voro who finally got through to him. “Detective Nailor, I appreciate your dedication to your duty, I really do. I can tell you’re a good man. But this really doesn’t have to be your fight. This is a fight that we,” he indicated the odd crew assembled behind him, “are supposed to take on. You are not equipped, you are not part of the plan, and this is a bit beyond your level of expertise. I encourage you to go home, stay somewhere safe.”

“We said we’d stand guard and keep civilians out of the way.” Vance’s voice sounded tired but his posture was that of a dedicated soldier. “We have to at least keep civilians out, and that’s what we’re going to do. If it gets out of hand and spills into the streets, we have to call for back-up. And that’s the way it’s going to be.”

Voro checked over his shoulder, sharing a look with Claudia. She didn’t like it but she nodded her agreement.

Voro gave a low curse, but he nodded. “Fine. Watch the perimeter. It’s not a terrible idea. But do not come inside. I can’t guarantee your safety, and we can’t risk you seeing any more than you already have.”

Saleem reached his hand out to take Claudia’s free one in his own.  It startled her, but as soon as he was touching her he felt better. More confident. Resolved.

“Let’s do this,” Claudia said, even smiling a bit.

Saleem returned the smile. “Let’s do this,” he agreed.

Iola felt dread at the sight of her apartment building, but Patrice’s shell-shocked demeanor had her pushing that aside, unlocking the door and herding the nurse up the stairwell to the top floor. When she opened the fire door at the end of the hall, she had to stop and stare.

There was refuse all over the floor. Where the walls had normally been slightly dinged, showing the drywall underneath, it was now all torn, huge gashes in the paint, plaster board tossed across the floor, leaving dust everywhere. The whole corridor looked like someone had set a fan on “cyclone” and walked away.

“What the hell,” she muttered. Patrice was next to her.

“I have a bad feeling,” she said softly. “I don’t want to be here.”

Iola shook her head, urging herself to grow up already. “I’m at the far end of the hall. Once we’re inside you’ll feel better, okay?”

Patrice nodded, unconvinced entirely, but she followed anyway.

Iola had her keys ready, but they turned out to be unnecessary.  Her door stood wide open, and her stomach dropped at the sight.

She immediately turned to Claudia’s door, banging on it loudly. She waited but didn’t hear anyone stirring inside.

She pushed past Patrice into her apartment, noting that the kitchen and living room lights were on. And it smelled really good, actually.

Patrice had followed her, and she was looking around with startled eyes. “He was here,” she whispered.

“Who?”

“Ralph.” She met Iola’s gaze. “It sounds stupid, but I can smell him.”

Iola grabbed her cordless phone, hit the talk button, pressed 911 then brought the phone to her ear. There was nothing. She hung up, reconnected and listened again. Not even a dial tone.

She dug her cell phone out of her pocket, and from that she only got a weird squelching noise. “Patrice? Do you have a cell phone?”

“Yeah, I do,” Patrice was already reaching for it. She hit a few buttons, held it to her ear and shook her head. “There’s no reception in here.”

“That’s weird. My place has never been a dead zone before.” Iola looked at her arms. The hair on them was standing on end, and the ringing from her cell phone was starting to sound in her ears as well.

Something was certainly awry.

A toilet flushed. She and Patrice both froze, staring at each other. She heard the door to her bathroom open down the hallway, and footsteps.

She was stuck where she was. She knew she should run, that whoever this was had likely been the one that broke in, but she couldn’t.

A man rounded the corner of the kitchen, and Iola knew him. He’d been on the security tape, and now she knew where she’d seen him before.

He’d been in her head, toying with her just over five months ago. Appearing, speaking in her head, then vanishing. With cold grey eyes and a slippery voice that managed to be tantalizing and creepy at the same time.

“Iola,” he said, her name never sounding so icky before. “And Patrice. How nice.”

“What are you doing here?”

He shrugged. “Running an errand.”

“Get out.”

He laughed at that, moving forward a few steps. “I can’t. I think I need to take you with me.”

She shook her head and backed up. “No thanks. I’ll just stay here and wait for the police. I just called them.”

He raised both eyebrows. “Well now. That would be a trick. Not a lot of electronics seem to be working around here. I’d say there was a weird power surge or something. Wouldn’t you?”

The air
did
feel thick, connected to the ringing in her head, she was sure.

Patrice was just staring at him, breathing through her mouth, cheeks slightly tinged pink. Her infatuation hadn’t worn off after this guy had hit her a couple times, clearly. She wasn’t going to be much help.

“Get out. I’m warning you.”

He laughed again, moving closer to her. Patrice just watched him, even licking her lips. She was completely gone.

Iola backed up, running into the kitchen table. “I mean it.”

His hand ran down her upper arm and it was like the touch of a reptile in the dark; utterly unsettling. “Iola, lovely Iola. You’re not scared of me, are you?”

“I am,” she admitted, swallowing but not moving. “You’re creepy as hell.”

“Good. Remember that. In the meantime, we’ve got a double date with someone. You have your purse dear?”

She frowned. “Fuck off.”

He laughed again. “Patrice will come with me. Right Patrice?”

Patrice just nodded. Iola wanted to smack her herself. She was getting no assistance from that quarter.

The bald man took another step closer and Iola held her ground, then wished immediately she hadn’t. He didn’t stop. He crushed himself against her, staring aggressively into her eyes in a way that made her feel small and vulnerable and nearly naked. One very cold hand grabbed her by the back of the neck, and she winced under the pressure.

“You’re coming with me, dear. I could just get in your head and make you agree with me, but ...” he leaned in close enough to her ear that his breath tickled her skin, making her shiver. “I like you scared better.”

Their collective footsteps echoed off the concrete around them like an acoustic avalanche. The parkade seemed more empty than isolated. No matter how Claudia strained her ears, her group was the only thing moving around in that space. The world had parked their vehicles here for the night and they were all tucked in to sleep. The lights were amber, glowing with false warmth. Her blood sat still in her veins, cold as ice, yet she was humming with power. She was ready to kill this Praesul.

“Everyone, back to back,” Voro instructed, stopping in the centre of an aisle of vehicles.

They all circled each other, backing into a tight clump. Saleem was to her right, which suddenly felt like an ancient arrangement. The man, Raphael, was to her left, and she could feel the warmth of Voro behind her. That was one body she’d know anywhere, even in the dark.

“Don’t break formation,” Voro said, voice level and calm. “Don’t strike out, keep the circle strong. And we make him come to us. I don’t think he’ll try the soul-suck on you two, Claudia and Saleem. And Raphael has already been there done that and got the fucking T-shirt. And me? Well … we all know the nutritional value on anything resembling a soul in me. He’ll have to fight us. That’s the good news.”

“The bad news?” Saleem asked.

“I don’t know what’s in his bag of tricks. We’re all in for a learning experience tonight. Just aim for his head, his heart.”

And they waited.

“What happens if we get him?” Claudia finally asked. “I mean, if he’s been consuming souls, what happens to them?” There was no way she was asking this type of question. She expected to wake up at any moment -

“They are released,” Raphael answered. “They return to where they belong, the people remain dead.”