The Lost Soul Trilogy (Primani Book 5) (75 page)

“Smelling salts work every time,” the doctor guffawed and clapped Sean on the back. “Now, let’s get her some water.”

We were sitting in a living room in someone’s house. Apparently Sean had carried me in and set me down on the tweed loveseat. My feet hung off the end but I didn’t mind. I was too dizzy to care about it. Sean handed me a glass of water and held it so I could sip it.

“I can do this. You don’t need to baby me.”

The corner of his mouth turned down. “I’m sure you can, but I’m not taking any more chances with you today. Everyone in town is wondering who the hell we are now. I was trying to keep a low profile but that’s blown. Let’s just get you better so we can get back to the house. I don’t want to have to carry you to the truck. It’ll attract more attention.”

“Your concern is touching. I’m so lucky to have you.” I snatched the glass and gulped down the water. Holding it out for a refill, I said, “Fill it up.”

Grinding his teeth at my tone, he refilled the glass and handed it to me. Half of it ended up on my chest making me jump at the cold. “Thanks!”

The doctor had been watching us with speculation. He said, “I’m Dr. Donnegan, Mica. I hope you don’t mind, we brought you to my house. I live near the pub. Do you feel well enough to answer some questions?”

Nodding above the glass, I tried to look like an ordinary person. No weird magical powers here, nope! Probably he’d not be so understanding if I told him about channeling lightning. It’s really no wonder I’m dehydrated…all that heat probably evaporated all of my fluids.

With a wary glance at Sean, he began, “It seems most likely that you’ve fainted because you’re dehydrated and hungry. But do you have any other medical condition I should know about? Are you diabetic? Are you taking any medications? Drugs? Are you pregnant?”

Uncomfortable with the question, I answered, “No, I’m not pregnant. I don’t have any other issues either. We’ve been traveling and I haven’t had time to eat. We came into town to buy food so I’ll be eating on a regular basis again. I promise.”

The doctor hesitated, looking unsatisfied with my answer. He clearly wasn’t stupid. We were dressed like commandos, Sean was armed and hostile, and the tension between us was thick enough to cut with a knife. He knew we weren’t ordinary backpackers traipsing around the Irish countryside. The fact that we hadn’t eaten in four days was enough to raise anybody’s suspicions.

With a sound of disbelief he said, “Hmm. Well, I don’t know what you two are up to, but I’m not the police. I can’t hold you here against your will. I want you to promise me that you’ll get food and water as soon as you leave here. Get home, eat lightly, drink water, and go to bed. Lay off of the medicinal Guinness for a day or two.” He wagged a chubby finger at me and added, “Make no mistake, lass, you’re not well. This level of dehydration can be deadly. You need to get fluids in you…” His voice dropped off as he noticed my hand.

Reaching out impulsively, he touched the pale outline of the rune. The scars had faded to pearly white now and were only noticeable if the light hit it just right. I jerked back and tucked the hand out of sight.

His eyes lit up and he murmured, “Ah, quite a mystery you are.”

Sean had his back to us and stared out the window. He was a million miles away again. With a heavy heart, I finished the water and put down the glass with a clink. What was he thinking about? It was making me crazy. As if sensing my annoyance, he turned around and abruptly asked if I could walk yet.

“What’s the matter?” I asked as soon as I got a look at his face.

He did a good job of hiding it, but he was coiled like a wire and about to explode.  Something else was going on. He met my eyes calmly and I tried to gauge his mood. He gave me a smirk as if to say “nice try.”

“Nothing. We need to go. I got a text from my brother. He’s on the way.”

With that cryptic message, he hauled me to my feet and dragged me out of the doctor’s house. I stumbled after him nearly falling several times. He had me by the elbow and kept me upright till we got to the truck. As I buckled my seatbelt, he climbed in and started the engine.

“There’s no text, is there?”

“Not from my brother.”

I waved goodbye to the doctor, who looked uneasy as he waved back. The two pudgy troublemakers were still standing in front of the pub as we drove past. One raised his beer in salute and blew me a kiss. My stomach growled pathetically as if it had given up on ever having food again. The sound was so weak and dispirited that I smiled. I could drop dead before Sean fed me…and what about him? The idiot! He was running on fumes too.

“Sean! We have to get food. I don’t care if the entire demon army is on its way. I’m going to die if I don’t eat. And you, macho superhero dumbass, will be next. How long can you go without food? A week or two? You’ve got superfuel to back you up. I don’t. I have to eat. Now!”

With his mind on other things, he ignored me and kept driving. “Damn it, Sean.” I smacked his leg to get his attention. “I’m serious! Stop at the store. It’ll take 10 minutes to get some food and water.”

With a squeal of the tires, he whipped the Land Rover into a store off the main drag and parked it. After snapping at me to stay put, he bolted into the store. Ten minutes later, he barreled out with a handful of bags. Tossing me a box of soda crackers, he slammed the truck into gear and took off again.

“Eat that slowly and drink your water.”

I nibbled the corner of the cracker and carefully swallowed. My stomach made a harsh noise and immediately attacked the cracker like a school of piranha. Nausea joined the party and I closed my eyes and counted to ten. Suddenly the truck lurched violently and I bounced against the door. My stomach protested and heaved. Gagging, I stuck my head out the window and retched up the tiny little cracker and all of the water. Closing my eyes, I prayed for death…

“Hey, we’re here. Let’s go.” Sean’s voice jolted me awake again. Impossibly, I’d fallen asleep on the way back to the house. “You’re green. Are you sure you’re not pregnant?”

“I am
not
pregnant! You suck at driving! Leave me alone. The world is spinning and I’m staying right here.”

“No, you’re not. It’s going to be dark soon and you don’t want to be out here in the dark alone.” With that remark, he picked me up and carried me into the house. Instead of putting me to bed, he plopped me on the couch.

“I have work to do and I want to keep an eye on you.”

A few minutes later, he brought me canned chicken soup and some more crackers. A bottle of something like Gatorade completed the tray. “Soup, cracker, drink. Repeat.”

With that, he pulled a laptop out of the closet and ignored me. I sipped, nibbled, and sipped for a few minutes and my stomach seemed to agree with the offerings. The room stopped spinning and my hands and feet stopped tingling. It’s amazing what a little hydration can do for you. I watched Sean and worried about him. He sat at the other end of the couch, tolerating my legs and feet pressing against his back. That was an improvement. At least he wasn’t flinching away from me anymore.

I leaned up and said, “Will you please make yourself something to eat?”

“I’m fine. You eat.”

“Sean, you know I care about you. I can’t stand to see you like this. If you won’t talk to me about it, at least eat something so I won’t worry about you dropping over dead just when you need to be fighting some Eurodemon.”

His lips quivered slightly and he looked at me from the corner of his eye. “Eurodemon? Is that like Eurotrash?” He twitched suddenly and pulled out his cell phone. After reading a text, he placed the phone in his pocket. “You worry too much. But I’ll eat something if it’ll shut you up.”

Then he did something unexpected.

He reached down and closed my eyelids.

Lucerne, Switzerland:

KILLIAN LEAHY STOOD BROODING on a small balcony overlooking the city. The sun had set for the day and the barest hint of stars brightened the sky. In his hands he held a thin gold blade. Its red stone glowed brilliantly against his hand outlining the strong bones of his fingers like an x-ray.

“Come on, come on. Where are you?” he murmured into the night. He watched the city street bustling ten stories below him and then tuned it out to look inward.

Sgaine Dutre
was here. He felt it in his bones. Jordan was using it, wielding it like it was his. Every time he used it, the echoes of its power thrummed through Killian’s blood and pierced his heart. Warning him, calling him, searching for him…

Sgaine Dutre
was his.

He was its master and it wanted him back.

The golden blade was its brother; they had been forged together, one silver, one gold; bonded by words and magic. But most importantly, they were bonded by blood.

Killian’s blood…and a lot of it.

It wouldn’t rest until it brought its brother back to its rightful place. Killian closed his eyes and searched with his mind. He scanned the city from right to left using a grid map in his head. It was here. He would find it. Searching…searching…

There!

A faint glimpse of blue fire licked at the edges of his sight. He tensed and got ready to move. It was moving away, it was nearly out of his range. Suddenly it was gone.

Poof.

Just like that.

“Motherfucker!” He gripped the blade tightly enough to draw blood. Into the night, he whispered, “Run, Jordan. Run away. I’ll find you. It’s only a matter of time.”

Sucking the blood off his palm, he took a deep breath and reeled in the sharp bite of anger and frustration. Giving it free reign was dangerous. Anger was a tricky emotion and not one that he entertained very often.

The angels let him keep his powers as long as he controlled them and didn’t put innocents at risk. He was unwilling to sacrifice any of his powers for the luxury of rage.

Jordan was toying with him. The sonofabitch had been toying with him for days…some men would be out of control with anger and frustration. That would make them reckless, and recklessness led to mistakes. Killian smiled grimly into the night. Jordan had miscalculated this time. Killian was never reckless. He had unlimited patience.

After all, he had everything to lose.

A loud knock interrupted his musing and he glanced at the clock on the bedside table. His stomach growled softly as the smell of grilled steak drifted under the door. It was room service with his dinner. Forcing himself to seem harmless, he pulled open the door. Gasping, the young delivery woman took a step back with her hand over her mouth.

Patiently, he said, “Come in. I don’t bite.” Waving her politely ahead of him, he stood near the door so she could pass by with plenty of space.

Petite, with a choppy blond haircut, she couldn’t have been any older than Mica. She flushed prettily and stammered at him while she wheeled in the cart with the food on it. She managed to get most of his beer into the glass but spilled some onto the table. He sighed inwardly at the wasted beer but kept a straight face. He didn’t want to scare her any more than she already was. Women always lost their minds around him and he’d never understand why. He wasn’t interested in hurting them. He was usually too busy to even think about them at all. With the exception of Mica, he thought human women were generally too delicate. If he had to deal with them at all, he’d rather protect them than hurt them. But Mica said he scared the hell out of everyone, especially women. She said humans sensed he wasn’t one of them, that he was a predator.

Smothering a grin at the thought of Mica ever being afraid of him now, he tipped the startled girl and shut the door in her face. The steak was overcooked and the beer was warm. He ate it anyway, and finished the beer on the balcony. It didn’t matter if it tasted good or not. Food was just fuel for his body. He’d need it if he was going to keep traveling around Europe. Teleporting took a lot of energy. Wearily, he closed his eyes and thought of Mica. Her heart-shaped face drifted across his eyes and made him smile. She was out there across the continent right now. What was she doing? What
would
she do? He frowned and traced the pearly scar on his hand. Could she handle Sean?

What would it take to keep him from falling?

Was she strong enough to hold him?

To
survive
him?

Looking out into the night, he worried about her. She was cocky enough to think she could handle Sean, but she’d never seen him unleash his full power. He’d always toned it down around her. They all had. They only let her see what couldn’t be helped and only the level needed to get the job done.  She’d been freaked out by just a little of what they could do. She’d be terrified if she knew everything they could do; especially him. That first morning when she looked into his eyes and read his soul was a tipping point--one of those moments in time that resets a person’s destiny. Her destiny shifted again that day.

He’d known immediately that she’d been changed by Sean. No typical human could do what she did. He knew then that her destiny had changed in ways she wouldn’t be strong enough to handle alone. He had told the others to treat her carefully after that. Her own powers were just emerging and they didn’t want to overwhelm her and lose her.

If she ran, they might not be able to control her.

She could be killed.

Even Declan had nodded soberly at that. She was important. Now he thought back to the power they shared and he knew her strength was just beginning to grow. She was as much a part of him as
Sgaine Dutre
, and more vulnerable.

Shaking off his maudlin thoughts, Killian glanced at the clock again. It was time. After locking the deadbolt, he mentally ran over the plan for tonight. He checked the magazine on his Sig and tucked a second one into a pocket. After adjusting the tension on the sheath, he palmed his Primani blade and vanished.

No one noticed when he rematerialized in the shadows of an industrial complex on the outskirts of Lucerne. The sign on the building identified it as the Première Institute headquarters. Most Swiss didn’t even know the complex existed, and if they noticed it, paid no attention to it. The building itself was large and rambled with five sprawling wings. Most of the complex was on one floor but the recent wing had been built with two stories. The beige paint was unobtrusive as was the subtle landscaping that surrounded the grounds. A tall security fence discreetly circled the entire complex. Concertino wire wound over the top. State-of-the-art security cameras and motion sensors kept track of all visitors.

Knowing he’d avoided the alarm, he pressed into the shadows and took a minute to get his bearings. He was standing at the north side of the complex. Mentally picturing his true destination, his eyes burned like a low gas flame and he vanished again. This time he reappeared inside the building. His destination was a small lab located in an underground chamber in the center of the third wing. Ducking behind a corner, he closed his eyes to picture the floor plan in his head. Like a map, the floor plan unfolded in perfect detail. Mica would say he had a photographic memory. He liked to think it was cooler than that. The hallway was narrow and lined with white cinder block walls. Dim track lighting ran along the low ceiling to help busy researchers find their way. Here and there the lights were burned out creating shadowy spaces perfect for hiding. Listening intently, he stayed pressed against the shadows. It was late and the floor seemed to be deserted. No one approached so he slipped into the light.

The straight hallway came to an intersection. A sign on the wall showed labs 4 to 22 were off to the right. Two male voices echoed in the dim light behind him. From the sounds of them, they were headed in his direction. Rolling his eyes, he sprinted soundlessly to the opposite end, checking doors along the way. He could not be seen down here. It would be hard to explain to certain people. A door opened just as the two men rounded the corner. Slipping inside, he carefully closed the door and locked it. It was completely dark inside the windowless office but he could see well enough. A desk and file cabinets made up the furniture, while a sleeping computer perched on the corner of the desk. Keeping an ear on the hallway, he methodically searched the desk. All of the drawers were empty and the top was cleaned off. The cabinets were empty too. That left the computer.

Powering it up, he slipped in a portable thumb drive. The computer was password protected. Really? Silly little humans. That shit won’t work on me. He held his palm over the keyboard and closed his eyes. The password characters filled in on the screen and the window opened. Okay, let’s see if the rumors are true…he quickly pulled up the files and started the download to the portable drive. While the computer ran through the files, he peered around the office. Finding nothing else to search, he scanned the names of files as they popped up. Now that’s interesting, he thought. A lot of the files were labeled in Russian. They were downloading much too slowly for his comfort. Getting antsy he tapped his fingers against his thigh. Come on, come on. I’ve got more to do tonight. You’d think these guys would have better computers…

After ten more minutes the download was done and he pocketed the thumb drive and put everything back. He was about to leave when a woman’s voice sounded just outside the door.

Her tone was worried as she said, “Dormund, I’m telling you something isn’t right with this batch. You have the same samples I do. It’s not acting like it’s supposed to. The multiplication rate is off the charts.”

Dormund replied, “Patrice, I’m not sure what you’re talking about. I examined the latest samples and mine have the usual signature. There’s nothing unusual. It’s just the usual Variola. I didn’t see anything odd.”

Variola? Now that
is
interesting! He waited with his hand on the door handle. A key turned in the lock and the knob turned but the door wouldn’t open. Scowling, Killian considered his options.

Patrice sounded frantic as she violently shook the door handle, her voice climbing with each shake. “What’s wrong with the damn door? Damn it! Can anything else go wrong today?”

With a nod of his head, Killian vanished and the door flew open. Both Patrice and Dormund lurched into the empty office and stared around in confusion.

Back inside his hotel room, Killian pulled out a sleek black laptop and plugged in the thumb drive. He chugged a bottle of Swiss spring water while the files loaded up. God, he was tired. Stretching his arms over his head until his bones creaked, he allowed himself this small pleasure and closed his eyes. He rolled his shoulders and stretched again. It had been a long night and he was beat. His stomach growled and he thought wistfully of the steak he had for dinner. How long ago was that? Six hours? Too long, he needed to eat. He’d been all over Switzerland tonight and was on E. He couldn’t afford to get complacent.

Mica would kill him if he got hurt. The woman was a horror when she was angry…he grinned at the memory of her blazing eyes and the way she scolded him. Her mouth intrigued him when it was sitting quietly on her face. But when she was pissed, her whole face lit up and that beautiful mouth moved in ways that made his gut tighten. He wanted to take that mouth and…yeah, she was so hot when she was mad…it was tempting to irritate her just to watch the show. Next time they were alone, he was going to try that. They’d never had make-up sex…With that thought entertaining him, he took a shower and ate a protein bar. Finally, the files were done and he got to work.

The sun was high in the sky when a slight sound woke him out of a deep sleep. Instantly alert, he reached for his phone.

“Yeah?”

Silence.

“What?”

A small squeak and then nervous throat clearing was the reply. Idiot. He ended the call and growled into the empty room. It was too early for this crap. A minute later, the phone chirped again.

“Talk,” he demanded. Stretching his back, he scowled into the receiver. This better be important.

“Killian? This is Alex. Why did you hang up on Marc?”

“I don’t talk to idiots.”

Alex tried not to laugh, but wasn’t completely successful. To cover it, he said sternly, “He was calling for me. He’s my assistant. I’m a little too busy to call you myself. You might try to remember that I’m your boss.”

Rolling out of the bed, Killian poured water and gulped it down while Alex lectured him on protocol and the seriousness of his mission. Finally, he cut off the endless stream of noise. “Alex, I get it. But you have to understand what I’m doing over here. Do you want me to come back to New York for Dagin or kick the shit out of Jordan? I could do both, I suppose, if I had my team. But as you know, my team is barely functional today.” His voice was low with resignation and regret.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. I’m sending you some help.”

“Who?”

“Rivin.”

Killian froze. “That’s not going to happen.”

Alex snorted and said, “Already has. He’ll meet you in a few days. Play nice or I’ll send you to Siberia.” He hung up leaving Killian staring at the receiver.