Soulless (The Heartless Series Book 2) (14 page)

The darkness won’t stop talking. Won’t give me peace.

Then I see her, my mother. She’s in the same alley she’d been in before. She’s smiling at me. Her arms are outstretched, and her eyes are twinkling.

“Come home, Gracen. Let me make it all better.”

Was that a vision or something I wanted? Does it matter? Yes, it does because I know what I can do to her…

I know…

Stay with me.
I see the farmhouse in the distance. I’m at the pond with Hart. Only he looks like the Hart I saw in the caves, when I got to see his real form. Handsome as ever.

He pulls me up to standing as the wind from the approaching clouds whips my hair around my face. He places his head against mine and shuts his eyes as the rain starts to fall.

“Stay with me.”

I want to stay, but I need to go. It’s important that I go. The world depends on it.

The ache to be held in his arms is too much.

The need for blood makes my numb body hurt.

The need for air is almost too much to handle.

I smell the blood.

I can taste it on my lips.

“Stay with me.”

“Come home, Gracen.”

Drink.

There’s not a lot of time. It’ll be over soon…

“Stay with me…” I can hear Hart so clearly. It’s different though. I can hear the tears in his voice, the fear, the pain. “Please, stay with me.”

I’m not quite sure if I open my lips voluntarily or not. All I know is that they have parted, and the sweet taste of blood washes over my tongue.
This is wrong…
I hear myself screaming to stop. It’s a fading thought, though. Already gone. Just a whisper.

The pounding of the blood is too strong. The pain being taken away. I drink and I drink until my eyes flash open and I see him. Hart. His head is pressed to mine. Tears fall down his pale cheeks. It takes me a few seconds to figure out where I am. I’m in the car. We’ve been in an accident. That much is certain. Though except for the windshield, the car seems to have suffered minimal damage. Wish I could say the same for Hart.

I try to push his arm away from my lips. I’ve had enough. I’ll be all right, but he refuses to budge. Apparently, he isn’t as convinced as I am.

“You stayed.” He smiles weakly, his head lulling to the side.

“I did,” I say as Hart bends down and places his lips on my forehead. It is tender, much more tender than I ever recall him being in the past.

When he leans back, even his lips have paled so much they are barely visible. “Don’t leave me again,” he says. I watch as his eyes roll back in his head, and he collapses against the seat.

“Hart?” I yell as I wipe the blood from my lips and begin shaking him to wake up. He needs to wake up.

“Stay with me,” I say as I tear my shirt and tie it around his wrist. “Please stay with me.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

HART

I
T’S BEEN A HELL OF A DAY.
Gone four hours and we’ve gone all of twenty miles from home. Forty more to go until we reach Prospect. Forty more that won’t be done until Bart, from Bart’s Used Motors and auto repair, gets my windshield fixed.

I woke up in the field surrounded by tall weeds and flowers. Strangely, my first thought was Stones River and the day I died. It was foggy that day, just as it is now. Only I’m not sure if that fog was from the actual fog or from the guns and cannons. Doesn’t matter now, I suppose.

Gracen, somehow, pulled me out of the car and laid me down in the tall grass. I can taste iron on my lips. No… she didn’t!

“What did you do?” I gasp through shallow breaths. I can’t die. Well, I can, but only from the blade, and more than likely the angel light that beams out of Gracen if I look at it. I’m not testing that theory to see. So the loss of blood, it wouldn’t have killed me. Didn’t she know that? Didn’t we discuss it?

“I gave you blood. You seemed to need it.” Gracen is standing a few feet from me. She’s rubbing her arms with her hands like she’s trying to warm up. Her eyes are set on the road. What’s she waiting for?

“Blood. Your blood?” Because drinking her blood sort of scares me. Who knows what sorts of weirdness could come from that?

“No, the blood in the coolers. It’s demon blood, right? So I gave it to you.”

Oh… dear… “That was for you, Gracen. You. You need it more than me.” Not to mention I’d just cut it out of my veins this afternoon for you.

“You were dying.”

“I can’t die!” I yell louder than I mean to. Isn’t she understanding any of this?

“Yes you can. The knife, remember?”

“Did you cut me with the knife?” I deadpan. I wouldn’t blame her if she did… still.

“No.” She answers with an eye roll. “Though it’s tempting. Sorry I tried to save your life.”

“You didn’t…” I stop. Why fight this? Why fight any of it? She gave me blood. It was very nice of her because I know that she knows she needs it more than me. I should thank her and go on my merry way. I don’t know if I have it in me, though. “Did you give me all of it?”

“Yes.”

I’ll kill her. “That was for you.”

“And I gave it to you. Deal with it.” I can tell that’s the end of that. Guess I’ve been thoroughly put in my place.

“Who are you waiting for?” I ask as I try to stand. Everything is sore, and what isn’t sore hurts like a son of a bitch. Just because I can heal doesn’t mean it’s pleasant or that I feel like rainbows and kittens the next morning.

“Tow truck.” She answered without looking at me.

I’m pretty sure I nearly choked on my tongue. I stand up so fast the world starts to spin, and I have to hold on to the hood of the car to keep from falling over again. That would be unmanly.

“You called a tow truck?”

She nods.

“A tow truck to see the car and the damage and us and notice that, hey, we aren’t hurt!” I know people can sometimes be slow, but… this? Really? REALLY?

“The car is damaged… some.”

I take the time to look it over. Nope. No damage. Not even a scratch. Except the busted windshield and the hole in the driver’s seat where the driver got stabbed by a giant stick. No… totally normal. Totally. Normal.

“Sweetheart, don’t you think the tow truck driver will see this almost like new car and see us in our not so nice, bloody clothes and get suspicious?”

“No.”

“I have a hole in my shirt.” I point to where Sam’s abs are shining like the fourth of July.

I think she stares a little too long. “Change shirts.”

“I can’t.”

“You packed extras.”

“Gracen,” I sigh. “That’s not the point. The point is we don’t need to wait around for the police to come by. You never should’ve called for help in the first place! Now we are stuck here for some reason waiting for people who don’t need to know about us to come and find out about us. This is not a good idea!”

I’m mad. Hell yeah, I’m pissed. I have places to go and people to see. Dealing with explaining myself to a human, not to mention Gracen, is giving me a headache. Any time you get the law involved, especially when it comes to supernatural situations, it can’t be good. Most people don’t believe. When a person doesn’t believe, they miss something. If they miss something, it can be bad.

“I was worried about…” She stops mid-sentence and bites her lip. I think she wants to say that she was worried about me. That’s what I want her to say, but she doesn’t continue. So now I’ll never know what she would’ve said. It could’ve been anything.

“You were worried about what?” I push as gently as I can. I take a few steps toward her, hoping to get an honest answer for once.

Her breath seems to hitch. Good. “Worried…” She stands straighter and looks me directly in the eye. “I was worried about the car.”

Way to shoot me down. “That a fact?” I don’t believe it. I think there’s something more going on between us than either one of us wants to admit. That’s extremely dangerous for both of us.

“Yeah.” Her cheeks tinge red, and she turns her back to me. “That’s a fact.”

“Well then.” I pick up my feelings and toss them in a lock box in my heart. Humanity automatically makes you keep your heart. The other demons get to lose it. My mother did. Or that thing that says she’s my mother. She’s not… not to me anyway. Not anymore. None of this is worth it. None. “We don’t need a tow truck. Lucky for you, I have super demon strength.”

I dust off my pants. Dust is the least of my worries. My pants, my clothes, I look like I’ve murdered an entire orphanage… or been attacked by a bear. My pants have rips and tears in them from the glass and, oh yeah, my broken bone that had been sticking out. The last thing I need is for someone to come and see me like this.

“I’ll get the car on the road. We can be in Prospect by the time it gets dark.

“You don’t think we’ll get stopped for, I don’t know, not having a windshield?” I hate it when she’s snarky.

“No. And if we do, I can do all sorts of demony things to the officer and he or she will never remember us. Now come on. Change your clothes so no one will notice and let’s go.”

I head to the trunk of the car, all the while admiring the fact that the body of the car hasn’t been touched. Strange as it is. Whatever Gracen did, whatever light that came from her, it did protect us… mostly.

What bothers me, and there are lots of things that do, is how much more supernatural Gracen is than human. I mean, I know what she is. I’ve known it all along. I used to taunt her with it, but to actually see it is a completely other thing. I hope to hell she doesn’t do the final task and turn completely. I don’t know if I can handle seeing her like that.

I’ve never been a fan of black wings.

I open the trunk, the soreness is still in my joints where I had to pop them back into place. Human body and all. At least it’s a functioning human body. My real body? The real Hart Blackwell? Well, whatever the buzzards and worms haven’t eaten, I imagine my real body isn’t in the best shape ever.

I’m careful not to show Gracen the contents of my bag. I don’t care if she sees my underwear or whatever. I’m not a prudish demon. There are some things, though, I’m not ready for her to see. I don’t want to have the conversation about it. I don’t want to think about it. I don’t want…

I don’t want to know myself, so why in the hell would I want to try to explain it to her?

And, of course, since I don’t want her back here, that’s exactly where she wants to be. She slides up and rests her hip on the side of the Mustang, crosses her arms, and glares at me. I try to act all nonchalant and not caring that she’s standing literally two feet from the thing I don’t want her to know about, all the while digging through my bag to find some clothes.

Oh yeah, and I hear sirens in the distance. No doubt the police coming to check out the accident. Fun times… fun, fun times.

Now would be a good time to lose my humanity—of course, it would be the worst time, but I wouldn’t give a damn. I’d leave. Gracen could do whatever, and I wouldn’t care. As it is, I care too much. Stupid. Humanity.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

GRACEN

“
W
E CAN’T BE FAR FROM
D
ARBY
. We can stay there, just for the night, while the car is getting fixed. It can’t take long to fix a windshield. Mama’s house will still be there in the morning.” I think it’s a great plan. The longer I’m away from Prospect and my mother, the better for everybody. I can’t kill her if I’m not with her. Sounds like a good plan to me. Not killing my mother would be a good thing.

Stupid nightmare.

“No,” he says. Just no. No explanation. No kiss my butt. Nothing. He’s digging though his bag for some clothes to change into, but he’s also trying to cover something up. I can tell. I don’t know if it’s the demon thing or the abomination thing, or that I just don’t trust him much anymore and am very suspicious of everything. Whatever the reason, I know he’s hiding something from me. And whatever it is has to do with his duffle bag.

I won’t ask about it. The way he is now, he’d just deny it. Get all defensive and whatever, but I will ask soon, and I will get some sort of answers. Whatever it is, I bet it has a heck of a lot to do with me. Why else would he be hiding it?

Unless it’s a copy of
Demon Playboy
.

“Come on, Hart. We need to rest. We need to get the windshield fixed… it won’t take forever, and we can leave in the morning.”

“No,” he says as his jaw clenches, and he zips up his bag with a lot more force than I believe it requires.

“Why?” I ask, feeling the redness boiling inside me. I used to be able to control my temper better. I used to could just roll with the punches and think everything would be okay.

Now, I feel like I want to pull Hart’s eyes out whenever he does one little thing to tick me off.

I wonder if it’s the demon blood that makes me feel like this. Is it the demon blood or the abomination thing that roars in my head, floods my eyes with the red, and makes me want to hurt someone? If it’s the demon blood, is this how Hart feels all the time? How in the world can he control it? I imagine demons, by nature, are evil and Hart is… well, he’s done some terrible things. On the other hand, he’s always taken care of me when I needed it. And I did fall in love with him when I thought he was Sam.

A love that was a lie.

A love that was there.

“You’re being unreasonable,” I say as I take a few deep breaths to calm down. No matter how this goes, I have to control it—whatever it is inside me that wants out. I have to control it and go on. I have a choice in all of this, and I choose to fight it.

Hart, without a word, unzips my duffle, grabs a white shirt and black yoga pants, and throws them at me. “No.”

“Is that all you can say?” I grumble. This is ridiculous.

“Hurry.” He smirks and starts to disrobe in front of God and everybody. Everybody including me.

“Would you…” My mind is saying stop, not that there is any need to say it. Hart already has his shirt pulled over his head. I sort of forgot how muscular he was. I know I live with the guy, but it isn’t like he walked around the house shirtless a whole lot.