Avenger (6 page)

To himself, Luke mumbled under his breath, “That day has come and gone.”

“Sorry?” Pru asked.

“What?” He growled at her.

Pru flinched, the black of her eyes melting into a sea of doubt. “I thought you said something.”

Just hearing the defensiveness in her voice made his chest ache. “Talking to myself.”

“Oh.”

It didn’t take a genius to figure out she didn’t trust him, her savior and executioner at the same time. Her side-glances and pressed lips, all indicated fear. She never feared him when they were younger. She had stood head to head with the toughest douche bag in the vicinity without a flinch. She won some and lost some, but neither got to her head or stopped her. No wonder she’d kept him at a safe distance without encouraging his attraction to her, for her sense of fairness and morality contrasted with his lawlessness.

Luke unlocked the door and gestured for her to enter before him. She passed him by and asked, “Why’s the change in attitude? Pity?”

He heard the other question she hadn’t voiced. Would he be going after her body when her back was turned? The thought that she lay weak, unprotected in the hospital nagged at him. All those raspberry red curls tangled around an inherently lovely face, shadows of thick dark lashes cast over high cheeks. Her lips so very red and full, they teased to be tasted.

What if she became the permanent residence of a rogue spirit?

Luke pushed both hands in his jeans’ pockets. “You’re not a spirit looking for a B&B. I have no beef with you.”

She studied him, arms crossed over her chest. “You really believe you’re some sort of priest on a mission to exorcise the world of all spirits.”

“I never claimed I’m a priest, but yeah, the rest is accurate. Don’t look so surprised, this is beyond what we learnt in school and in textbooks.” At the skeptical look in her eyes, he added, “You already know I can turn pale and invisible.”

That seemed to take the wind out of any further arguments regarding his so-called delusions. She wandered around the loft, hovering from the kitchenette to the bed, then abruptly moving away from it as though it might lunge at her.

“So what do we do now? Roast some marshmallows and share scary stories?”

Luke plopped in the leather armchair. “Tell me how you developed an interest in animals.”

Her face beamed with a smile so radiant Luke almost moaned. He vowed to help Pru regain her body even if it killed him. Again.

“Actually, they developed an interest in me. Only a moron rejects that kind of selfless affections. Cats rub by me, dogs drag their owners to reach me, even squirrels abandon their hidey-holes to sit by my side. Don’t laugh at this, but sometimes I think they can understand me.”

Luke smiled, glad he’d found a topic that relaxed her. “What about predators?”

“I haven’t tried my luck there.” Her response was terse and dry.

“Calm down, I wasn’t making fun of you. I’ve heard of horse whisperers, but not the-whole-kingdom’s whisperers. A man is entitled to a bit of curiosity.”

She shrugged. “I guess.”

“Which concert were you going to?”

She smiled shyly. “The Slam. You remember Carmen? Well, we’re still very close and she had tickets to the concert, so she and her boyfriend invited us to join them.”

Something slammed into his heart, the fool couldn’t beat right. “Us?”

“Jason tagged along. He’s my colleague at the shelter.”

The way that name rolled off her tongue and out of her smiling mouth hinted that Jason was more than just a colleague. Somehow, Pru having a boyfriend didn’t feel right. In his eyes, she was still that eleven years old tomboy digging for trouble and finding it most of the time. Okay
, a very curvaceous tomboy now.

“Jason rode with them?” he asked.

“By the time I arrived at Carmen’s place, she and Sylvester were already wasted. Jason offered to drive their car since they lived in the same neighborhood while I live some distance away.” She chewed on her lip. “It made sense. An accident in their compromised state would lead to litigations and whatnot.”

Yet she was the one who winded up messed up and alone. “I’m surprised by two things. None of your belongings were with you and Carmen, your best friend, hasn’t visited you.”

She frowned and ignored him, choosing to study the intricate design of his workout bench. Every time he questioned the disappearance of her friends, she became defensive.

Luke softened his voice and changed tactics. “How did the accident happen?”

She pursed her lips and semi-settled on the workout bench. “It’s all very foggy but I remember being few cars behind Carmen’s. They slipped through a green traffic light, but the red one got me. When it changed, I drove…I remember being in the middle of the crossing when lights grew rapidly in size on my left side. There was a loud bang, I went upside down, and then nothing. I didn’t even feel pain though I found out later that my shoulder got dislocated. Next time I woke, the ER staff were reviving me.”

“What about the paramedics who came for you?”

“They were in the back of the emergency room. I clearly remember the African American one.”

He frowned. “What was so special about him?”

“He was good looking, hair smoothed back with gel, nails done nicely, but his speech ruined the whole classy image. He had this unforgettable heavy ghetto drawl. He didn’t fit my impression of how medics should be.”

Chapter Nine

It was judgment time in the Laymour.

Six High Domines stood in a semicircle surrounding a wailing spirit. While three recited the bad deeds, the other three countered with the good ones.

Celestine mused over the changes in the Laymour. The judgment involved the locking up of the High Domines, along with the spirits to be judged, in a chamber away from the Dome for a full Laymour lunation. That was the case until at one time, when the Domines were needed the most, they couldn’t be reached. Now the judgment took place within the Dome, close by the Pit. Naiten, the Pit Keeper, didn’t participate in it but observed the proceedings from the Watching Point overlooking the Pit’s turbid-liquid surface.

“Jameson O’Brian,” Keigan said, “You stole your father’s savings when he was on death bed.” An impassive statement of facts.

The spirit of Jameson O’Brian howled, its ghostly appearance shifting and twisting.

“But you gave part of your inheritance to charity to redeem yourself,” Marteenk countered.

At that, the spirit settled in feeble whimpers of anticipation, a semblance of hope.

“Your willpower was weak, you fornicated with women other than your wife. You infected her and the child within her with the disease you carried from those women,” Remei said.

A roar of anguish reverberated through the Dome, it finally dwindled to a moan of self-loathing.

“Yet you recognized her importance in your life when her health deteriorated faster than yours. You remained by her side and became loyal to her after that,” replied Litwiq.

The spirit faced each High Domine as he or she spoke. For each evil action there should be a redeeming one until the good deeds High Domines fell silent. It was a given that human nature was weak in the face of temptation. However, when the number of offending deeds increased and their proportions broadened, it was a good indication to which side the judgment would fall. Souls destined for heaven traveled peacefully to their paradisiacal destination. Laymour spirits either ended up in Hell or, if the High Domines couldn’t agree, were given a second chance on life through reincarnation. The second time around the judgment was sterner.

Despite all the security and organization, there was an incident when spirits joined forces in an upheaval to overturn the Laymour, like what happened under the watchful eyes of the previous Pit Keeper. Periodically, the Pit Keeper must replenish the pit’s surface from his or her life force. That renewal took the appearance of a liquid that locked and contained the spirits within the Pit. That one time, the spirits had infused the Pit Keeper’s thoughts with deceitful notions of mistrust, which allowed them to trick her into thinking the liquid’s level hadn’t lessened while they escaped to Earth and took over unsuspecting hosts. Luke was still dispatching some of those spirits as well as the ones there before them.

From the corner of his eye, Celestine caught movement, and turned. Naiten was waving him over to the Watching Point. “You do not have to wait. The judicial proceedings will take long.”

Celestine’s attention shifted to the judgment process below.

“Ah, you are distraught by the judgment,” Naiten said.

Celestine settled his vapor form into a semitransparent one. “Not distraught, but fascinated. I have never witnessed one. Will we not be distracting them if we speak here?”

Naiten flashed a slow and sad smile he hadn’t been able to get rid of when he purged himself of emotions. “They are locked in another dimension where they can neither hear nor see us.” He gestured to the half circle. “I can call on their assistance if there were a need. This is a better placement.”

Celestine nodded. There was nothing worse than an emergency without the ability to reach them. Without the High Domines’ help, Celestine and his previous Spirit Hunter would have lost a very important battle with the spirits.

“If you recall, Naiten, I have mentioned a spirit without an aura that only the Spirit Hunter can see.”

Naiten nodded.

“I saw her body. She is in a coma at a hospital and her spirit wanders in search of company. Luke is working on finding out more about her.” Celestine paused, hesitant to bring up the other matter he had in mind about the girl.

“Speak up, Celestine. I can only help and advise if I am aware of the whole situation.”

“Luke knows her from his stripling days.”

That got an arched eyebrow and an “hmm” from Naiten. The Pit Keeper closed his eyes and ran his fingers through his beard, a sign he was deep in thought. Celestine turned back to the judgment, his mind drifting back to his reluctant hunter. Luke was a wild one, forced—in his own opinion—to do a job he hadn’t signed up for. Despite Luke’s responsibility to extract invading spirits, Celestine suspected he was still trading in substances that poisoned and drugged healthy bodies. Celestine shook his head with regret when he heard that dealing in drugs was one of the crimes the current spirit was being judged for. Even though his relationship with Luke was filled with potholes, he didn’t want the day to come when his ward would be judged here.

“Have you inferred the cause of the unexplained possessions?” Naiten asked, drawing him out of his morbid thoughts.

“No. Actually, there was a woman with an orange aura that neither I nor Luke could explain.”

“Yet another example of the abnormalities swarming Earth.” Naiten fell silent, then nodded. A decision was made. “Keep an eye on Luke, for even though he claims the coma female is the spirit he has been seeing, we do not know that for certain. As for the orange aura, did you witness it yourself?” Naiten asked.

Celestine nodded.

“There is an Insurgence in the Laymour every few centuries during which spirits organize ranks and try to overthrow the Laymour’s High Domines. During these periods, oddities take place, some we eventually explain, others remain beyond our grasp of understanding. So far, the spirits have failed in each uprising attempt. We had hoped the confrontation with spirits during the last hunter’s tenure were it, now I am forced to consider it as a mere prologue.”

“Is it time for the Insurgence?” Celestine asked.

Naiten massaged his beard. “We cannot measure when it will take place, but can read its signs. I do think this is the time for preparation. I mention this because of the risks Luke takes with his body. If this is indeed the Insurgence, then he should save his energy and power to end the battle. Do not dismiss his claim regarding the comatose woman for even though he has been the most stubborn hunter we ever had, he is carrying out his responsibilities with total commitment. There is no need to mistrust him.”

Celestine lowered his head to hide his eyes, for his thoughts about Luke’s other dealings were mere suspicions.

Naiten went on. “If what he claims is true and she is the comatose patient, we must find out how she fits in the whole scheme of odd happenings. She is like an empty platter waiting to be filled with whatever food is dumped in it. Any fleeting spirit will be more than happy to take over her body.”

Chapter Ten

The first time Pru spent the night at Luke’s loft she was busy exploring the place which was nothing more than one huge open space with a kitchenette in one corner, a king size bed in another, and a prominently positioned workout bench in the middle, with an assortment of beanbags and mismatched chairs thrown around the place. There was no computer and she hadn’t seen him use a cell phone.

In other words, he was a caveman.

Tonight, however, she found herself unable to take her eyes off his face while he slumbered, sprawled out on the bed like a welcoming star. He looked younger without tension lines surrounding his firm lips and the crimple between his eyebrows. Fine looking yet overwhelmingly deficient in refinement.

“Why all good-looking guys are either taken or have issues?” She covered her mouth, her voice too loud in the stillness of the room.

He had started wearing pants to bed, no boxers while she was around. Like now, he was clad in very low black jeans and nothing else. His lips, firm and merciless when awake, were now softer, inviting. Usually, his stubble helped him carry his smart-alecky attitude with conviction, now it looked pasted on, as though he were pretending to be older and tougher than he truly was.

He turned and drew his brows together. What was he dreaming of? Pru wondered and sat on the edge of the mattress. In the new position, his muscular abdomen was on display. Rope after rope of compact muscles greeted her. These muscles were earned the hard way, by using each and every one of them. Pru drew a breath between her teeth, staring at that expanse of strength. There were minimal scars scattered across his body, but a circular one in his stomach drew her attention. She examined it, almost touched it. A bullet wound.