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Authors: Katana Collins

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BOOK: Soul Stripper
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32
S
he tossed Wills the knife, and he flipped into the air, catching it between two fingers on the dull side of the blade. He flipped it a second time and caught the handle. “I have become quite skilled with a knife over the past few years.” He threw the blade at my wall, and it landed in the center of my face on a framed picture. The glass shattered and fell to the floor like raindrops.
Lexi sighed. “So theatrical.” She gestured to the knife. “Well, go get it.”
“I prefer to use my own blade.” He pulled a serrated knife from his boot and slipped it out of its sheath.
I was still pressed up against the wall, though no hands held me there anymore. “Wills,” I whispered, my eyes brimming with tears. “All this time, it was you?” I thought of the bodies I had seen. I remembered their fear, their deaths. The way he consumed their blood. “You had sex with her—she was dead and you had
sex
with her!” My voice was a hoarse whisper.
He propped an elbow against the wall, leaning over me. “You should take that as a compliment, Pocket. She looked so much like you—it was impossible to resist.” He ran the flat blade of the knife along my body, careful not to break the skin just yet. “You murdered me. You took my life. I’m just returning the favor.”
I shook my head. “Fine. I accept that you’re angry for what I did. But why all the others?”
He pushed off the wall and flipped the knife over in his hand again, like some sort of new habit. “Killing a succubus is an art in itself. I needed to perfect it.”
“So all those women—they were just
practice?
” This couldn’t be the man I had once loved.
“In a sense, yes. But they kill, too. Sure they didn’t take
my
life per se, but they took numerous others. They deserved it as much as you—though, I have to admit . . . all this talk of your reformation made me doubt myself. You’re not quite so thoughtless with your powers as you used to be. You don’t haphazardly steal the souls of men you claim to love anymore. I respect that. But, as Lexi made me realize”—he smiled at her and she smiled back—“that doesn’t change history. If it weren’t for her in my life, I’d just be another corpse on the battlefield.”
“You.” I looked at Lexi, a hatred flooding inside of me like I had never felt before. “You did this. You turned him to a demon.”
“Yes,” she said matter-of-factly. “And I explained that none of this would have happened without your interference. I showed him what his life would have been like had
you
shown some restraint.”
I pleaded, reaching my hands out to touch his clean-shaven cheeks. “Wills.” The tears spilled out over my eyes. “I would have saved you if she hadn’t interfered. I heard you calling for me in Bastogne. I-I found your pocket watch chain. I still have it.” I could hear the panic in my voice.
His face softened at that, surprise washing over him. He took one step closer. “You have my chain?”
He wasn’t reaching out to me, but he also wasn’t pushing me away. “Yes.” I smiled at him. “Yes. Would you like it? I can get it for you.”
“That was my father’s chain. When were you planning on telling me this?” He touched my hand, and I continued to caress his face.
“Wills . . .” Lexi’s voice was a low rattle. A warning.
“Quiet!”
His sudden loudness made me jump, and he squeezed my hand slightly. There was still an affection for me; I knew it. I had seen the crime scenes, felt the victim’s pain. There was no way I could love this man any longer. But I could fake it until I got to safety.
“Wills,” I whispered again, plumping my lips slightly with magic. “Don’t you understand? I loved you. I couldn’t resist you. I needed you in my life.” I leaned in to him, my lips coming closer to his, angling for a kiss. “All of this—this whole thing, it was destiny—and now that you’re a demon, we can be together for eternity.”
He slid the knife blade over his lips like a barbed wire fencing to keep me out, his eyes full of sorrow. “Come any closer and I’ll slice your bloody lips off. “
I backed out of his personal space. “You have to believe me, Wills.” I clutched my purse closer to my body. The gun hugged against me within it.
Lexi stepped forward. “Wills, my love, are you ready? Let’s drink her blood, absorb her power. We’ll both be stronger for it.”
Wills stepped back. “I’m sorry, Monica. I don’t doubt you loved me as much as a Hellspawn could love another. I’ll admit my desire for revenge has subsided in seeing you in your new life. But not enough. You still do the devil’s work.”
“Newsflash, Wills—your ‘beloved’ Lexi is a succubus as well.
She
does the devil’s work. As do
you
.”
“Lexi gets her powers from the blood of other demons. Not from preying on humans.”
I laughed at that. “Oh? Is that what she told you?” I clicked my tongue in the same way Lexi had done to me earlier. “
Tsk, tsk, tsk
. You clearly haven’t been honest with your beau,
Alexandria
.”
“Don’t call me by my full name. I hate that,” she said through clenched teeth.
“I guess she also didn’t inform you of her undying love for Lucien, did she?”
He looked at me blankly, then at Lexi. “Lucien? The ArchDemon?”
She shook her head, her eyes calm, but the muscles in her neck were strained. “That was a long time ago, darling. Don’t believe her. She’s just trying to get out of this alive. Besides, you admitted it yourself—you’ve had other indiscretions since we became partners.” She then turned her attention to me. “And perhaps you should tell Wills about your recent developments with that boss of yours. I was in his office. I saw you two.”
“Enough!” Wills yelled, and shoved me up against the wall again. His arm was against my throat, constricting the amount of air flow. “Time to taste your power,
Pocket
.”
He sliced my cheek with his blade, a crimson stream gushing from my cheek like a wall of blood. He licked it, his tongue rough and scaly. With the lack of oxygen, my body’s natural defenses took over and the cut healed itself, closing over.
Wills pulled back, his eyes glistening red for a fraction of a second. “Wh-what just happened?”
Lexi grabbed a fistful of my hair and bent my head back to get a closer look at my healed cheek. My neck stretched backward in an unnatural way. “I thought you said you were going to take care of her! Make sure the stone absorbed the last of her powers!”
“I did, I did!” He gestured to me. “Right before our meeting, I arranged for Drew to find out about Adrienne. You said yourself—you saw her with him.” His eyes grew wide and he grabbed the back of my head, tearing Lexi’s hands away from me. He cradled my face. “You didn’t have sex with him, did you? If—if you had, the stone would have absorbed any energy you had gained back. In order to absorb power, you need to have sex in the stone’s presence.”
The night with Drew rushed back into my memory. The necklace—I had given it to Kayce that night for her hunt. I still had on the earrings, but they must not have been powerful enough to absorb all of Drew’s life force—which was why I only got a small fix off of him. I stared into Wills’s eyes in as much of a lovingly way as I could muster. There was a flicker of hope in them. Trust. If I could get him to think I was faithful, maybe he would spare my life. I nodded, my teeth clamped down to keep from chattering with fear. “No—no, of course I didn’t have sex with Drew. I’m with you. I would never cheat on you.” I had some energy left, but not nearly enough to survive a battle with either of these two . . . let alone both of them at once.
He kissed me firmly on the lips, pressing my body even harder into the wall. The taste of my blood on his tongue brought a gag up my throat.
“Well, that’s sweet and all”—Lexi sighed from beside us—“but Wills, we still have a job to do. Or do you not remember that this isn’t
only
about revenge. There’s a bounty on her head. If we don’t finish the job, someone else will down the line.”
He looked at me, regret flooding his eyes. “She’s right.”
“Wills, no . . .” I whispered. It was a moot point. He still loved me, I could see that. But he was going to kill me. “One last kiss, Wills. Can I just have one last kiss?”
He looked over to Lexi, who rolled her eyes and nodded yes. His lips brushed against mine, parted, teasing. My heart pounded against my rib cage. I lifted one hand to his face and with the other reached slowly into my bag. Making as little noise as possible, I rooted around for the gun. There was no way to click the safety off without their demon ears hearing. Once I made the choice to shoot, I’d have to do it all in a matter of seconds. As much as I’d rather shoot Lexi, Wills was the only guaranteed hit. With the gun still in my purse, I pointed it at his stomach.
Our kiss was ending. I could feel his lips finishing as he had done so many times in our past. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, the tears spilling silently over my cheeks. He tilted his head ever so slightly, a small crinkle at the corner of his eyes. As fast as I could, I clicked off the safety and pulled the trigger. The shot echoed through my small apartment and blew a hole through my purse. Wills crumpled to the floor; the bullets blessed with holy water caused a steam to rise from the wound, and he lay moaning on the floor. Before I could stop her, Lexi was on top of me. The gun fell inches from my hand, just out of reach. I shifted into something rabid, with threatening claws and teeth, and ripped past Lexi, rushing for the panic button. I barely got beyond her before my magic flickered away and I turned back into my normal human form. I grasped the necklace in my hand and squeezed, the button clicking uneventfully beneath my fingers. A heavy weight hit me from behind, sending me sprawling to the ground. Lexi flipped me over and sat above me, knife in hand, sputtering a demon tongue I hadn’t heard before.
She stabbed the knife into my stomach and quickly raised the bloodied knife to her mouth, licking the length of the blade. Splitting pain seared through my body, up my spine, and my vision grew dark. The wound healed, and I gasped a staggering breath. I reached for the gun with all my strength, but she flung my arm down by my sides and pinned them there with her knee. “Let’s see how long your strength holds up.” She stabbed me again in the stomach. And again in the ribs. The kidney. The liver. I could feel some of them healing, but my energy wasn’t able to keep up with the wounds. From the ground, things were starting to move in slow motion. Blood dripped from the wounds, gushing up my chest, pooling around the base of my neck. Some blood hit the stone necklace, and it sizzled, evaporating in a steam. Lexi paused, licking some of my blood from her fingers, and her eyes flashed red; veins rippled around her temples and jaw as some sort of dark magic took hold. She once again plunged the knife deep into my core. Sounds were further and further away. I heard distant voices, a group of voices. The stabbing stopped, and when I looked up, Lexi was no longer on top of me but standing, facing off with Jules, Lucien and . . . someone else. A stranger’s face, so familiar and dark at the same time. He looked at me, made eye contact. His eyes traveled down my body, letting them linger on my bloody, open stomach. He licked his lips, then quickly returned his gaze to Lexi. A shiver tingled down my spine. Not a stranger—I knew him. My maker, Dejan.
“You cannot win here,” Dejan said.
Lexi growled and took a fighter’s stance. “Even if
I
don’t kill her, someone else will.”
Another moan came from the floor in front of me. “Wills.” I whispered his name. He moaned again, and I heard a rustling.
I closed my eyes. Sleep seemed so close. To sleep would be Heaven.
Heaven.
A stinging on my cheeks woke me. Damien and Adrienne hovered above like two guardian angels welcoming me home. “Monica,” Adrienne said. “Stay with us. We’re going to get you help.” There was a badge around her neck, a detective badge. I reached out for it, running my bloody fingers along the crest.
“You’re a . . .” I coughed, and could see the blood sputter out of my mouth.
“I’m a cop.” She nodded. “Damien’s my partner.” She started chanting incantations that I didn’t recognize. I had very little knowledge of witchcraft and spells, but I was mesmerized by the calming tone of her voice. Her eyes swirled like two twisters, and a numbness settled over my body. “There,” she whispered, looking up at Damien, “that’s the best I could do. I’m not advanced enough to cast a healing spell on such a powerful succubus, but it should at least numb her pain for a little.” She and Damien stood, moving in as backup behind Lucien, Jules, and Dejan. It was five to one—Lexi didn’t stand a chance.
I could see the face-off, Lexi clutching her bloody knife. She knew she was no match for an ArchDemon and an angel. In a movement so fast I almost couldn’t see it, she grabbed a handful of the shards of glass scattered across the floor from my broken picture frame and threw them at the group. The glass sprayed everyone, snipping and cutting into their skin. She turned to me, and in one last ditch effort to not go down without a fight, she lunged. I, on the other hand, had no more fight left in me. I closed my eyes waiting for the pain to come; waiting for her knife to sink into my flesh one last time.
I heard Wills’s distinct voice scream, “No!” Lexi’s dagger was rushing toward my body. And suddenly like a shield, Wills threw himself on top of me. The knife sank into his back and a gunshot rang through the air. Heavy weight landed on my chest and stubble scratched at my neck. Wills’s eyes stared back at mine, blood trickling out of his mouth. “Pocket,” he managed to whisper in a raspy voice before his eyes rolled back into his head. His lungs emptied themselves of his last breath.
33
Bastogne, Belgium, 1944
 
I knew he was here. Somewhere. This was where his battalion was stationed. We found an abandoned school in Bastogne, which was where the medics set up their base. I exhaled in relief that it wasn’t another church. Those always proved difficult to navigate around. Constantly sleeping outside in tents, asking other nurses to get me supplies. People grew wary of why I would never enter. But having them speculate was easier than having them see for themselves what would happen.
We didn’t have many supplies when we first arrived—and now, only two weeks later, it was so sparse that we were cutting up sheets to make bandages. Dead bodies lined the entranceway to the school.
“Medic! We’ve got one of our own here!” two men cried out as they carried in a doctor whom I recognized. I rushed over, morphine in hand. He was shot in the throat—not dead center. It must have missed the jugular since he had yet to bleed out. I injected him with morphine as he sputtered and gagged on his own blood. A hand shot up, and I grabbed it in my own. “You’re going to be okay, doctor. We’re going to take care of you.” His eyes bulged in pain, the veins red and angry. He gurgled, trying to say something. “Don’t try to talk, you’ll make it worse.” I could see it in his eyes—he knew he wouldn’t live. He had seen injuries much less severe than his take lives.
A different doctor came rushing over and pushed me aside. “Hendrix!” he cried. A moment of horror crossed his face before he moved into action, putting pressure on the wound. The blood soaked through the rag with no effort at all. They didn’t need the extra set of hands, so I kneeled, holding Hendrix’s hand and stroking his head.
“Bastards!” the doctor cried. “They are not to shoot medics! They know that.”
I gave the medic as much of a genuine smile as I could muster. You’d think we’d have all grown accustomed to death after years of this, but the sight of a wounded soldier dying in pain never became easier. He outstretched one finger and ran it across my lips. Gurgling twice more, his eyes rolled to the back of his head.
“We need another medic to come out to the field with us,” said one of the soldiers who had carried him.
The doctor pulled away from the lifeless medic’s body and shook his hands. Blood splattered, and he wiped the remaining on his pants. “We’re low on men as it is. I don’t know if I can spare another.” His hands were on his hips and his head hung low in defeat and exhaustion.
I stood, dropping the medic’s hand gently across his chest. “I could go,” I said. “I’m as skilled as any doctor. And I don’t fear being in the barracks.” I failed to add that it was because I knew I could not die.
The men looked at me, surprised. One opened his mouth to object. Before he could utter a word, the doctor looked me up and down. “Very well, then.”
December in Bastogne is bitter. The men all suffered from frostbite and trench foot. I sat low in a hole, shivering along with them. One man passed around a cigarette. While the smoke would have offered a small comfort in the midst of this snow, I passed without a drag to the soldier next to me. The men needed it more than I.
They were mostly tentative with me. Unsure if a woman would be willing to run into the line of fire to pull an injured soldier to safety. I felt their assessing eyes as we passed the cigarette. “Here.” I reached into my sack and handed out dry socks to the men. “Take off the ones you’ve got on. Dry them around your necks. Switch your socks every couple of days.” They did as they were told. I think some were happy to have a mothering figure instead of yet another man barking commands. Others still seemed wary.
A shot rang out through the air. Then another zoomed over our heads. There was a splat-like sound, then a scream rang out through the air. The men in their holes fired back.
“Medic!” a voice screamed. I secured my pack to my hip and hopped out of the hole. A man grabbed my skirt’s waistband, pulling me back down.
“What, are you mad? Don’t go out yet! Wait until we can cover you!”
I could see the injured soldier, lying in the snow, clutching his arm. Blood-soaked snow framed him like a portrait. He cried out again in agony. “I’ll be fine,” I said as I yanked my skirt from the soldier’s grasp. I ran, dodging bullets.
I reached the soldier. He was shot in the shoulder. Not the worst injury I had seen, but without being treated it could lead to infection, or worse. I grabbed him under the arms and pulled with every ounce of muscle. In my current body, I wasn’t strong enough to pull him to safety. I shifted myself to be more muscular. A change that only someone who had seen me naked would notice. I pulled again and his body dragged in the snow. I pulled until he was out of the line of fire. I shot him with morphine and tied a tourniquet around the top of the wound.
Two soldiers came over to us, wide-eyed, staring at me in wonder. “We called it in. A medic truck should be by soon.”
“Well, what are you waiting on? Take him over there to wait. I’m needed here.” They nodded.
The days and nights melted one into another. I would go back to base to check on the men we had brought in and get supplies, though there weren’t many to be had these days.
It was closing in on Christmas. Morale was low, and I certainly wasn’t a lot of help in that department. Every so often, I would sneak over enemy lines, shifting into the Nazi medic uniforms. It was the most guilt-free way to get life force I could think of. While there, I would steal supplies we needed. Bandages, morphine—I even managed to sneak away with some chocolate for my boys one night.
As we moved in on enemy territory, I heard other battalions close by. They were allies, I was sure of it. Each night, I closed my eyes and listened carefully for Wills’s voice. Shots rang out once more. I was growing accustomed to them, the sound becoming akin to an adrenaline boost for me. I waited in crouched position behind the battle area, waiting for the soldiers to call me in.
The calls came within minutes. “Medic!” was being shouted from so many different directions, I didn’t know where to begin. The men whose injuries didn’t seem so severe I left with some morphine and bandages before running to the next screaming voice. One man lay in the center of the field—no cover for him whatsoever. It was no wonder he was shot. I took a breath, and ran, covering my head. A pain unlike any other bit into my thigh, and I fell to the ground. Shot. The fuckers had shot me. A woman medic.
“Medic down!” a soldier cried out.
“Save the medic!” another one shouted.
“No!” I called out to them. “Stay where you are! I am fine!” I lifted my skirt above my knees, reached a finger into the wound, and dug out the bullet. I shifted the wound closed but kept it still somewhat bloody in case anyone asked to see it later. It still stung like Hell, but it was manageable. I crawled over to the wounded soldier, the morphine between my lips so I could inject it as soon as I reached him.
His face and lips were white. “Are you—are you all right?” he asked me, gasping for breath.
“I’m fine. Just a little bullet wound.” I smirked at him, and he gave a broken chuckle, his breath pooling in a fog around his mouth.
“M-Me too,” he said, clutching the hole in his stomach.
As I dragged him out of the field, the shots died down. Then after a few moments, they stopped entirely. The enemy had retreated. There were bodies lying everywhere. “Medic!” was being screamed in French and English. Another battalion had been involved nearby, as I suspected. Their screams did not subside.
I looked over at the captain. “I need to go help them.”
He nodded. “All our boys are accounted for?”
I nodded, my eyes scanning the field. “Those who are alive.”
“Go,” he said. “We’ll wait here for you.”
I ran toward the screams. One by one, I found the wounded, patched them up, and pulled them to safety. I skipped over the bodies that had no pulse. I came across their medic, shot dead.
Then, I heard a specific voice above all the rest. “Medic!” he cried in a dignified British accent. Wills. My heart froze, a stabbing pain. I took off running toward the voice, jumping over bodies, ignoring other injured soldiers. I couldn’t feel bad about that. I wouldn’t feel bad about that. I’d already shortened Wills’s life enough. I could save him. I could counteract all the essence I stole.
“Wills!” I screamed out.
“Medic!” I heard his voice cry once more. I ran faster, just barely dodging a wounded soldier who reached out and grabbed at my ankle. I fell to my face in the snow.
“Medic,” he whispered hoarsely. I looked into my sack. I had run out of bandages. I ripped my apron with my teeth, tearing off a long strip, and handed it to the soldier along with a morphine shot.
“I’ll be back for you,” I assured him before taking off running toward my Wills again. But his screams had stopped. “Wills!” I called out again into the empty field. I heard other people’s cries, other soldier’s voices. Some were calling out for me—others for their mothers. Some for God. I listened carefully. His voice was no longer among the screams. I kept running toward the area I thought the voice came from. I arrived at a different clearing. Several bodies lay dying or dead. I scoured the men, not seeing my Wills anywhere among them. Finally, I knelt by the man closest to me, tearing off another section of my apron.
His wound wasn’t so terrible, and I only had a few morphine shots left. I packed his wound with the bandage. “Parlez-vous anglais?”
“Oui, mademoiselle.”
“Can you walk yourself to safety?”
He nodded, and I wrapped his arm around my shoulder to help hoist him up.
“Pardonne-moi, mademoiselle, but aren’t you Monsieur Wills Brindley’s lady? He’s shown me your picture on many occasions. A beautiful image of you on the stage.”
An icy breath caught in my throat. “You know my Wills?” I grabbed onto the lapel of his coat and pulled his face to mine. “Where? Where is he!” I yelled.
“He was over there. Calling for a medic not far from here.”
“Get yourself to a truck. There should be one waiting.” I took off running again until I stumbled over an abandoned gun and a single boot. A large pool of blood stained the snow, and there lying in the center was a broken pocket watch chain. The initials WDB were engraved at the clip. A couple of damp pieces of paper lay facedown in the snow. I picked them up, holding them to my face, only to find an image of myself onstage singing—the photograph torn in half.
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