Soul Sucker (4 page)

“Like my baseball bat?” Tom scrambled off the bed and returned with the sturdy bat in his hand.

“That’s perfect. You can hide it under your covers. But remember, only hit the thing, and not me, okay?”

“Okay.” Tom settled himself back beside her on the bed. “What if I kill it?”

“They have very hard heads, so that’s unlikely, but if the creature hasn’t listened to my warnings it deserves anything you can throw at it.” She patted Tom’s scabbed knee. “Are you ready, then?”

“I suppose so.”

She smiled at him encouragingly. “It will be fine. These things aren’t very brave really, that’s why they pick weaker prey.”

“Then why do they want me?”

She hesitated. He didn’t really need to know that it was probably his emerging empath powers that made him irresistible to Otherworld creatures. She settled on a lesser version of the truth. “You bring a lot of food up here, don’t you? Once the thing has gotten used to an easy source of food, he’ll stick around.”

Tom shivered. “I won’t do it anymore.”

“After tonight, you won’t have to worry about that. You’ll be able to eat whatever you like, whenever you like.” She gave him a quick hug. “Now you settle down for the night, and I’ll turn off the TV and then get under the bed.”

While Tom stretched out, she settled herself under the bed and positioned the bucket of chicken temptingly in front of her. Outside, the trees rustled and sighed to the hypnotic rhythm of the ocean breeze. She waited for the first telltale hint of magic to reach her and gripped her gun and flashlight more tightly. A rustling sound from the closet drew her attention, and she peered through the darkness at the shape moving toward her and the chicken.

Tom sighed and the thing paused, giving her a clearer view of coal black eyes and a piglike nose. It sniffed the air and crawled closer, one long bony arm outstretched to hook around the bucket of chicken. As its clawed fingers curved around the container, she moved forward and grabbed hold of its hairy wrist.

“SBLE. Stay where you are.”

The thing gave a startled shriek and tried to scrabble backward, but Ella held on to it and allowed herself to be pulled along as well. She locked one arm around the creature’s throat and held on despite its thrashing, ignoring the scratch of claws on her jeans and bare arms. When she pressed the barrel of her gun to its big shaggy head, it went still.

“That’s better.” She tightened her grip. “You know you’re not allowed to frighten kids. What the hell are you doing here?”

In a sudden flurry of bedclothes, Tom sat up and swung his baseball bat dangerously near her head. “What is it, Ella? Can I see it?”

“Sure, get my flashlight.”

Tom bent to pick up her discarded flashlight and turned it on full beam making Ella blink hard.

“Ew, it sure is gross,” Tom said. “All hairy. It’s kind of like a cross between a monkey and a spider.”

“Yeah, it is.” Ella didn’t loosen her grip as Tom stared in fascination at the creature. “You’ll probably know it better as a troll.”

“Like the internet ones or the one under the bridge with the goats?”

“The goat one. They’ve been around for a long time. As a species, they are usually quite harmless, unless they feast on human flesh and get a taste for it.”

The troll hissed. Tom jumped and picked up his baseball bat again.

“I want the chicken, not the child.” The words were issued in a sibilant whisper that she understood more at a basic empath level rather than as speech.

“You sure about that?” She forced herself to delve into the troll’s mind. She couldn’t allow him to hang around Tom if he ate humans. He’d consider a young empath a true delicacy.

“Stop, soul sucker,” the troll squealed. “I don’t want the child!”

Ella twisted around so that she could stare into the troll’s ageless black eyes. “Do you swear it on the lives of your brood?”

“I swear it! If you get your filthy hands off me, I will leave this place and never return.”

“Or tell anyone else about what you found here.”

The troll blinked slowly at her, his gaze deadly. “Or tell my brood about the tasty little empath.”

She nodded, then removed her gun from his head. “You know I can force the memory from your head.”

“We all know that, soul sucker,” the troll said. “That’s why we hate you. I’ll not return.”

“Good.” Ella looked up at Tom. She wasn’t sure how much of the conversation he’d understood. “If he comes back, you’ll tell me, won’t you, Tom?”

“Sure.”

She reached for the bucket of chicken. “Shall we let him have this as a going-away present?”

“Sounds good to me.”

She thrust the chicken into his bony hands. “Here you go. Now get out and don’t ever come back, because if you do, I’ll suck out your every thought and then I’ll kill you.”

The troll nodded and scuttled back into the darkness and out of the window. After a long moment the scraping sounds of his descent ceased, and Ella let out her breath. “I don’t think he’ll be back.”

“I hope not.” Tom was regarding her curiously. “Why was he so scared of you?”

She shrugged. “Because I held a gun to his head?”

“It wasn’t just that. He was even more scared when you said you’d suck out his brains.” He hesitated. “Is that why he called you a soul sucker?”

“I have no idea.” She stood up and stretched out her legs. “I have to get some sleep. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

He opened his mouth to ask another question but she forestalled it by kissing the top of his head and walking to the door. “Sleep tight, and give my love to your gran.”

“Thanks, Ella. You’re awesome. I will.”

Chapter Four

Two days later, Ella licked the remnants of frozen yogurt from her spoon and headed for the vending machines in the center of the office. She’d finished the paperwork on Mr. Knight for Otherworld and started reviewing the case notes on Christa Morehouse. According to the police interviews, until the last night of her life Ms. Morehouse had been a quiet tenant whom no one had either gotten to know or cared about. Of course, that was pretty typical of big city living, and meant nothing.

The reports coming back from Humboldt showed a diligent professor of English respected by her students and her fellow staff members, none of whom could remember her ever drinking or partying to excess. She frowned as she approached the water cooler. Why exactly had Christa rented the apartment in the city? Had she wanted somewhere to let her hair down? Somewhere to meet men and misbehave before she went back to her exemplary life in Humboldt?

Speaking of misbehaving... Ella’s gaze came to rest on the broad shoulders of an unknown black-haired man who was studying the vending machines with deep suspicion. He wore a nice dark suit, white shirt and tie, which meant he was either a regular government employee, or some religious groupie that had inadvertently slipped through security. Male was probably a more appropriate word than man, because Ella could already tell there was something not quite human about him. As Ella approached, he turned more fully toward her, and she got her first good look at him. She sighed. He was way out of her league. With his pretty face, height and distinctive cheekbones he could have graced the cover on any magazine. Her appreciative gaze dropped to his broad chest—imagining him, preferably without his shirt on. She’d just bet he worked out.

“What’s up?” she asked as he continued to study her.

He looked even more confused. “I beg your pardon?”

His Russian accent was as divine as his cheekbones, and she actually wanted to squeal a little. She gestured at the five-dollar bill in his hand and spoke very slowly. “Are you having trouble with the vending machine? Don’t they have those in your country?”

His sapphire-blue eyes narrowed. “Yes, they do, and you don’t need to worry about whether I can understand you. I spent four years at Harvard, so I speak American.”

“You do?” She flashed him her best smile. “Then I’ll leave you to it.”

His shoulders slumped. “Do I need change for the machine?”

Ella fished out a crumpled dollar bill from the pocket of her ripped jeans and put it in his hand. “Here you go. This one’s on me. Don’t ask me to recommend what’s good. They all taste like shit.”

He smiled and her hormones started singing the “Hallelujah Chorus.” “Thanks. That’s very nice of you.”

He spoke as though he was still feeling his way with the language. She had to wonder just how long it was since he’d last graced her country’s fair shores. “I don’t do nice. I’m just trying to keep you moving along so that I can get some hot chocolate.”

“Then I’ll get out of your way.”

Ella waited while he punched some buttons, slid the dollar into the slot and bent to retrieve his plastic cup of hot watery goodness. His ass was nice too...

He straightened, then nodded to her. “Thanks again.”

“Your shields are very good.” In fact, they were exceptional, but he didn’t need to know that. “What branch of the SBLE are you in?”

He leaned one hip against the countertop and looked down at her. “Are you always this inquisitive?”

“Yeah, I find it cuts out the need for small talk. I’m not good at that.”

“I noticed. I’m glad you approve of my shields. I’ve been working hard on improving them.”

“Why’s that?” She got her hot chocolate and blew on the scummy brown surface. “Did they fail you?”

The irritated look he gave her was quite impressive. “That’s none of your business.”

“True.” She smiled sweetly at him. “If you want to make them even better, I’d focus on the center. You’re still a little thin there. I can see your anger building up and that’s never a good idea.” She turned back toward her office. “
Nice
to meet you, and good luck with whatever it is you’re doing here.”

* * *

Vadim glared at the female as she sashayed away from him. How dare she criticize his shields? At first he’d taken her for some sort of junior intern. Her long blond braid, fresh face and unkempt clothes screamed college kid, but she had way too much confidence for that. In fact, she’d had way too much confidence period. She’d also caught him at a disadvantage, as he fumbled to remember how to speak English after five years back in Russia.

American teens tended to be more brash and confident than their European peers, but he had to assume she wasn’t a kid. Her quick assessment of the capability and weakness of his shields had been rude but dead on and hinted at hidden talents. If her magic was strong, it might explain why she was here despite her harmless exterior.

“Mr. Morosov?”

He turned to find the head of SBLE beckoning him from a doorway and, with a last glance over his shoulder, Vadim strolled toward him. Alexei was already sitting at the conference table, his long silver hair tied back at the nape of his neck, his interested gaze fixed on the whiteboard at the front of the room. Vadim took the seat beside him and focused his attention on Feehan. Unfortunately, due to the lack of real evidence, it didn’t take long to bring both him and Alexei up to speed.

Feehan sat down and looked hopefully at Vadim. “So, what do you think?”

“I think you have the makings of a serial killer here. However, we need to make absolutely certain he’s not human. Sometimes it can be hard to tell.”

“My empath is convinced the killer is from Otherworld.”

“But empaths can be wrong. We all know that. Especially empaths that are nearing their sell-by date.”

Feehan blanched. “I don’t think you should say that directly to Ella Walsh’s face.”

“Why not? She’s part of the team, isn’t she? She’s not infallible.”

“Well...”

He recognized the faint sheen of apprehension on Feehan’s face all too well. For some reason, empaths seemed to inspire fear in both human and Otherworld species. Due to his recent experiences, he couldn’t say that he was very keen on them himself. But he refused to show any fear. Empaths loved that. They fed off emotion after all.

“Where is your empath?” Vadim looked toward the door. “I’m quite happy to speak to her and get her opinion on the matter.”

Feehan fumbled with the papers on his desk. “I’m not sure if she is available. I intended to gather the whole team together tomorrow morning after you and your associate had settled in.”

What Feehan didn’t need to say was that he hadn’t expected Vadim and Alexei to step off the plane, and come straight into the office. His surprise at their appearance had been all too obvious.

“We’re happy to wait until tomorrow, aren’t we, Vadim?” Alexei looked across at Vadim, his pointed gaze telling him to shut up and play nice. “Perhaps you could have someone take us to our hotel, Mr. Feehan.”

“Sure.” Feehan jumped up. “I’ll get Sam to take you. He’s just started here as an assistant empath and he doesn’t have a heavy workload yet.”

“Miss Walsh doesn’t share well with others, then?”

Feehan halted in his tracks. “Mr. Morosov, Ms. Walsh is an exceptionally talented individual who works well within her capabilities. Of course, due to her age, we are grooming Sam as her replacement just in case anything untoward happens.”

“You mean if she suddenly implodes.”

“I hope to God that doesn’t happen, but I have to be prepared for it. Now let me find Sam and get you settled in your hotel. It’s only a block or two away from here, so you’ll be able to walk back over here in the morning.”

Vadim stood and so did Alexei, and Feehan headed out into the open office. Idly, Vadim wondered if the small blond went by the name of Sam, but Feehan had said “he.” She had an empath’s arrogance, and obviously had time to spare to wander about the office picking on defenseless newbies. Not that he was defenseless. If she caught him on another day when he wasn’t suffering from culture shock and jetlag, she might find that out to her cost.

“Do you really think this killer is human?” Alexei asked.

“No, but I’ll be damned if I’ll take the word of an empath.”

Alexei shook his head. “Careful now, Vadim. Your prejudices are showing.”

“Then it’s lucky I have you here to show me the error of my ways in your Fae-Web.”

“I didn’t help you much last time, did I?” For a moment Alexei looked almost stricken.

“But you will this time. You know what happened with Natasha, and you can factor in that data to offset the obvious influence of the empath on this case.”

“Sure I
can
, but whether I should is another matter.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s like using loaded dice. Sometimes if you try and influence the outcome the results are too predictable and that’s not what the Fae-Web is all about.”

Vadim pushed in his chair and went to study the two photographs on the whiteboard. “Just do your best for me, okay? That’s all I ask.”

A young man bounded into the conference room and grinned at them both. “Hey, what’s up? I’m Sam.”

What the hell were you supposed to say to the greeting “What’s up?”

Vadim’s interest died, replaced by a wave of exhaustion. Definitely not the feisty blond he’d been dreading. Maybe she was just an unimportant intern after all.

* * *

Ella tucked the phone between her chin and shoulder and continued investigating the contents of her freezer while she talked to Laney.

“Yeah, I know! Imagine that, a good-looking guy in my office.” She peered at a cloudy zip lock bag and brought it out to the countertop for closer inspection. “Not that he was interested in me, especially after I told him he needed to work on his shields.”

“You didn’t. Oh Ella...”

Ella laughed right back at her. They’d been dumped into the same empath training program at the age of five and had been buddies ever since.

“So, have you heard anything from Otherworld recently?” Laney asked.

“I’m always hearing from them, you know what that’s like.”

“And you know what I mean. I got a letter today, and our birthdays are only a few weeks apart.”

Ella breathed on the bag and tried to read the faded print. It looked like the remains of a lasagna her mother had made for her. She had no idea how long it had been in there. Nuking it in the microwave was the only way to determine whether it was edible or not.

“Ella? Are you listening to me?”

“Yes, hon, I’m just trying to work out what to eat tonight. What did you say?”

“I said, I got a letter about my upcoming twenty-seventh birthday.”

“Really.”

“It was hilarious.”

“Well, they’re a bit out of touch over there and their command of English seems stuck at about 1950.” Ella grimaced at the stack of mail on her countertop that she hadn’t yet opened. “You’re not seriously taking any notice of those idiots are you?”

There was a long enough silence on the phone for her to think they’d been disconnected. “Laney, are you still there?”

“I’ve decided I’m going to meet the male they offer me as a mate.”

“
Laney
, what the fuck?” Ella sat down abruptly on the nearest stool. “We always said we’d never do that. What’s changed?”

“I’ve changed. I’m scared, Ella. I can’t keep it together anymore.”

Ella gripped the phone. She’d never heard Laney sound so afraid. Her friend had always been the more outgoing and optimistic one.

“It’s okay to be scared, but can’t we work this out together? We’ve always been there for each other in the past.”

“And I know you’ll always be there for me, but it’s not enough anymore. I’m drowning in all this psychic shit in my head. I can’t sleep, I can’t concentrate, and I’m messing up at work...”

Laney worked for the SBLE down in San Jose. Ella shivered as she saw her own future and took a deep breath.

“Are you sure about this?”

“I think I am. I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

“Then you’ve got to do what you’ve got to do. I just hope the male they find for you is hot, well-paid and fucks like a god.”

Laney gave a watery chuckle. “I sure hope so. I deserve some kind of god, don’t I?”

Ella hung up the phone and tossed the plastic bag in the microwave. The fragrant smells of cheese and meat filled her apartment and her stomach grumbled. Laney’s defection hurt more than she had expected. Who was she going to share a padded cell with now? She’d always imagined them going down together. But who was wrong? Laney for wanting to live, or Ella for preferring to die without being beholden to Otherworld for a crummy mate. While she waited she flipped through her mail and right at the bottom she found one of the characteristic brown windowed envelopes from Otherworld.

She opened it and found a typed sheet of paper and a blue tri-fold brochure. The letter looked as if it had been copied many times.

Dear Empath,

Congratulations on almost reaching your twenty-seventh birthday.

Enclosed is some further information as to what to expect in the coming months, and how you might avoid your inevitable descent into madness.

Yours sincerely,

Otherworld Community Outreach Services (OCOS)

Ella picked up the enclosed blue leaflet and started to read.

ARE YOU AN EMPATH?

Are you worried about your future?

There were no glossy pictures, just the same blurred print, and a pen and ink drawing of some poor person, presumably an empath, with his or her head in their hands. She opened up the first fold.

FACT: 95% of empaths will experience some form of deterioration in their mental health by the end of their twenty-seventh year.

“No shit.” She hadn’t told anyone, but she’d already felt the first warning signs herself. Recovering from the extraction of a memory was becoming exhausting, leaving her with a terrible headache and the urge to curl up and sleep forever.