Her Soul to Take (Souls Trilogy) Page 7

  I shook my head, eyes fluttering with ecstasy. His fingers were so slick, pumping in and out of me as my pussy clenched greedily around him. My weight rested against him, my arms clinging tighter around him as the pleasure built and my legs began to shake too much to hold me up alone.

  “Such a noisy little thing,” Leon said. “I love how pretty you moan.”

  I was in an absolute daze of pleasure. Endorphins made my mind hazy. The maddest thoughts consumed me, thoughts of having his cock inside me, of tasting him, kissing him, and weeping from how good it felt. There was no other high in the world like those few precious swelling seconds right before tipping over into orgasm. My nails dug into his back and I cried out against his palm, my body coiled like a spring as every muscle tensed tighter and tighter until —

  Release. Fuck. My head went light. I closed my eyes as I shook against him, his fingers pushing me through the waves of pleasure. I felt the briefest touch of his teeth against my neck, as if he wanted to bite, as if he was resisting the urge to hurt me, to consume me.

  Leon withdrew his fingers, and I leaned back heavily against the wall in the afterglow. I had no words that would suffice for the rush of that experience: the frantic pleasure, the fear of being caught, the disbelief at what I was doing. Without my noticing, Leon had taken my vape from my pocket, and he held it up to my lips as he also held up his slick fingers to the streetlight’s glow. They glistened as I took a slow, light-headed drag from the pen.

  “Beautiful,” he said softly. He put one finger into his mouth, and sucked it clean as I exhaled. The smoke swirled around his face as Zane came to his side.

  “That was fucking gorgeous,” he said, slinging an arm around Leon’s shoulder and looking me hungrily up and down. Then Leon held up his middle finger, still glistening, and Zane took it slowly into his mouth, licking it clean.

  Holy hell, I nearly orgasmed again from that alone.

  “Always the middle finger,” Zane muttered, straightening his jacket as he licked his lips.

  “For you? Always.” Leon stepped away, looking me over as I buttoned my jeans with clumsy fingers. He held out my vape. “Thanks for playing. See you on campus, doll.” He gave me a two-finger salute, and he and Zane left the alley side by side, chuckling as they went.

  Demons have two names.

  There is the name we are known by: I was Leon, it was how I introduced myself, the name by which I was called. But there was also the name by which I was summoned, a name that could only be written and never uttered. It was the name that commanded my very essence, a mark that was connected intimately to my being. My mark was written in the grimoire, and as such, whoever had that grimoire could summon me at will.

  Being summoned felt like fish hooks wrenching my insides out through my navel. It demanded obedience. But merely having my name called by my summoner was only a nudge, a suggestion.

  So when I first felt Kent Hadleigh call my name, I ignored it.

  He hadn’t bothered me since the night I took Marcus’s body up to White Pine, and I was on too much of a high to let him spoil it now. I had my new favorite prey in my sights: little Rae, defiant Rae, curious Rae. Fuck, the self-control I’d had to exercise to not make her scream in that alley was absolutely unholy. It was going to make me feral if I couldn’t have her again. Have all of her. I wanted her blood, sweat, tears, cum. I wanted to taste it all.

  Zane just laughed at me. He’d known me for centuries, seen me in my darkest days. He’d been a lover and a friend, when I didn’t want to rip his head off. He called me out on my obsession immediately, as if he was one to talk. He hunted souls for fun, always eagerly pursuing the next prize. I’d watched him chase a human for decades just to get them to promise him their soul for eternity.

  “No, no, you can’t compare the two,” he said. “I’m methodical. Concentrated. As for you, well — you fixate. Like a dog with a bone in front of it. I’ve seen the way your obsessions go, Leon. They don’t end well for you.”

  Which was why I seldom had obsessions.

  And I wasn’t obsessed.

  I was...interested.

  And fucking hell, Kent Hadleigh kept calling me.

  He’d been at it long enough now that it was a goddamn annoyance. He had to be furious that I wasn’t coming, so why hadn’t he summoned me? It was his usual method: pull out the grimoire, chalk my mark onto the ground with a few runes, and demand I come. I couldn’t say no. The use of my mark left me no choice.

  The fact that he was going about this so gently was odd. So odd it piqued my curiosity enough to obey, if only to see what the hell was going on.

  Teleporting was tiring, so I didn’t do it often, but I also didn’t feel like running all the way to Kent. Light and shadow rushed around me as I dispersed my corporeal form, before assuming physical form again in the living room of the Hadleigh home. Perfectly white carpet, white couches, a shining metal chandelier overhead. The room’s main wall was all glass, giving a view of the trees that covered the Hadleigh property’s expanse. Everything was so clean and delicate, it just made me want to smash it.

  Kent stood in front of me, hands behind his back, his suit looking a bit more wrinkled than usual. His protective iron amulet, carved into the shape of a sword crossed with a wand, wasn’t hidden beneath his shirt today, as if he’d put it on hurriedly. The humans wouldn’t notice it, but the damn thing made the air smell pungently metallic, so much so that it gave me a headache. His wife, Meredith, was seated on the couch behind him, and she went rigid as I appeared — at least, a little more rigid than her overly Botoxed face already was. Jeremiah was sunk into a chair nearby, his chin resting on his palm as he watched me, looking bored and a little annoyed. At the bar in the kitchen, Everly watched in silence, wringing her hands on her lap.

  Something was strange, but I couldn’t put my finger on what exactly.

  “What took you so long?” Kent’s voice was snappy, anxious. That was unusual for him indeed.

  “Just doing my duty.” I shrugged, cracking out the usual tension that resulted in my neck from going in and out of physical form. “Didn’t want to leave the campus unprotected. Figured you could wait.”

  “Slaves don’t tell their masters to wait,” Jeremiah sneered. “Watch your mouth.”

  “Or what?” I growled, turning from facing his father to focus on him instead. He immediately straightened up, his jaw working nervously as I stepped closer. “What are you going to do, hm? You want to try me?” He shifted in his seat, his eyes darting back to his father. Typical. “That’s better. At least you know when to shut your mouth. You should be scared, boy —”

  “Kent, control him,” Meredith hissed, and Kent cleared his throat.

  “Leon, enough!”

  I straightened slowly from leaning over a cringing Jeremiah. No pain. No punishment. Kent loved looking for any opportunity to torture me, and he’d just passed up an opportune moment. I looked him over, once more taking in the rumpled suit, the bags around his eyes, the way his hands —

  His hands. Empty hands. No grimoire.

  No grimoire?

  No...no, that couldn’t be. Kent never let that thing out of his sight.

  “I have a job for you, demon. A soul meant for the Deep One has returned to Abelaum. The time has come for the next sacrifice.”

  I was distracted, trying to determine why the hell Kent wouldn’t have his grimoire with him. The special thing about a demon’s second name, about their mark, was that it couldn’t be recalled simply from memory, and it could only be permanently recorded in a few specific mediums: if scarred into flesh, or if written by a powerful witch. Without my mark, without the grimoire, Kent couldn’t summon me and he couldn’t contain me.

  It seemed too good to be true.

  “Do you want me to kidnap someone,” I muttered, “Or do you just want me to babysit Jeremiah while he mangles another sacrifice?”

  “Fuck you!” Jeremiah raised his voice, getting a worried glare from his mother. Kent�
�s nostrils flared with the force of his exhale. He reached into his jacket and withdrew two photographs, holding them out for me to see. I got closer to have a look — and cold, clenching fury washed over me.

  “Her name is Raelynn Lawson, but Victoria tells me you already know that, don’t you?” Kent smirked. He was holding an enlarged student ID photo of her, as well as one of her sitting at a bench between Jeremiah and Victoria. “Bring her to us, and ensure no one sees you. Make sure you leave no signs of a struggle. You are to make it appear as if she left her house of her own accord, drove to the coast, and was in a wreck. Bring her to St. Thaddeus tonight, at midnight: alive, unharmed, and blindfolded.”

  I didn’t take the photos. I simply stared at him. “No.”

  Kent laughed. “Have you lost your mind? Your summoner has commanded you —”

  “Make me. Go on, Kenny-boy. Make. Me.”

  In other circumstances, I knew what would happen. He’d whip open the grimoire, trace over my mark to lend him power over me, and utter some spell from within its pages to cause me pain. Break my bones, crush my lungs, give me the sensation of being burned alive — the punishment spells within that book were wicked, and even I could only endure so much pain. But instead his jaw just tightened, his empty hands clenching.

  He’d lost the grimoire. He was powerless.

  “She is a Lawson,” he said, as if he could persuade me to do what he wanted. “A descendent of the Blessed First Three, one of the God’s chosen.” Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Everly shifting in her seat. She was the only person in this room with any innate magical abilities, but would she dare turn those against me? “She must go to the Deep One, and you will bring her.”

  This was why the Hadleigh brats had latched onto Rae so quickly, like goddamn leeches eager to feast on the God’s favor. It made sense now: Rae was born here, her family had likely been here since the town was first built. Some unfortunate ancestor of hers had gone down into the mines, and came out with the God’s mark on him forever.

  “If you hop to it quickly, you’ll still have hours with her before midnight,” Jeremiah said. “I see you staring at her on campus. Her cunt can be your reward for —”

  He didn’t even see me move.

  One moment he was leaning eagerly forward in his chair, watching the rage spread over my face, and the next I had him by the throat, held aloft over my head as his mother shrieked and his father cursed.

  “I should pop your pathetic little skull,” I snarled, squeezing his throat until he gurgled and his face began to go purple. His feet twitched, trying to kick at me, as if his pathetic squirming could stop me.

  I’d kill them. First Jeremiah, then Meredith, then Victoria, and I’d enjoy every second. The amulet Kent wore, blessed with old magic, prevented me from harming him, but I’d gladly slaughter his whole family and have him watch.

  “Leon!” Kent’s voice was loud, but even with the protection hanging around his neck, he didn’t dare to approach me. Meredith was screaming hysterically. Everly watched from her chair, all the blood drained from her face. I laughed, the sound reverberating around the room as my claws dug into Jeremiah’s neck, drawing blood. “Put him down! Obey me! Obey at once!”

  “Obey?” I laughed again as I turned to him, holding up Jeremiah with one hand. “Obey or what? What will you do? What will you do without your precious grimoire?” Kent looked as if I’d slapped him. “Did you really think I wouldn’t figure it out? That I wouldn’t notice?” I squeezed a little tighter, and a slow squeak came from Jeremiah’s mouth, like air being let out of a balloon. “After all these years, did you really think I’d let you slip up for even a second, Hadleigh? All these years of serving you, risking my life for you as you continue your foolish quest to please a God that will crush you like a bug the first opportunity it gets.”

  Kent was shaken, but not down. Instead of addressing me, his eyes looked past me, and I felt a brush of magic against my back.

  I glanced back. Everly was standing, tears streaming down her face. It was her magic I felt.

  Witch magic.

  She was young, and untrained, but I still didn’t want to deal with fighting a witch.

  I looked back at Kent as Jeremiah continued to twitch in my grip. “Dismiss me. Now. And I’ll let your son live.”

  “Dismiss him, Kent!” Meredith shrieked. “Get rid of him!”

  Kent hated to lose. Fury contorted his face, his mind likely grasping for another option. But Jeremiah was limp now, and given a few more seconds, I’d squeeze even harder and crush his windpipe.

  “You’re dismissed, demon,” Kent ground out the words. “Leave my presence. Leave this house. Go back to Hell.”

  God, it felt good to win. Jeremiah dropped to the floor in a limp heap, and I vanished with a grin and two middle fingers up.

  Something was off that day, but I couldn’t put my finger on what it was.

  Maybe it was the feeling of being watched as I walked across campus, the bizarre prickling on the back of my neck that told me eyes were on me, but I couldn’t figure out from where. Maybe it was the weird experience of having my Screenwriting Professor, Mr. Crouse, remind me — and only me — that I could come to his office after class if I needed any help. Maybe it was the fact that Jeremiah hadn’t come to school that day, and Victoria couldn’t seem to put her vape down during our entire lunch break. I could smell alcohol on her breath again.

  “Family problems,” Inaya said, with a heavy sigh before we parted for our last classes of the day. “I’ve known Victoria for a few years and she struggles when her parents don’t get along. No family is perfect. We just have to try to be there for her.”

  Inaya was a better friend than I was. She planned to take Victoria out for coffee after class, but the day’s weird feelings had formed a solid knot of anxiety in my stomach. Once it started, there was no reasoning with anxiety. I just wanted to get home.

  I just needed to walk home.

  I’d figured those walks home in the dusk would get easier, but no. The sun had sunk beyond the trees, twilight’s dusky golden light filtering through the branches. It was beautiful, but the dark was coming. The clouds had been sparse that day, but on the horizon, a mass of dark, purple-gray storm clouds were brewing, moving ever closer. It would probably rain through the night. The thought of curling up in bed with a glass of wine, watching Scream for the umpteenth time as the rain pattered outside, made me walk faster.

  Since delving into investigating the paranormal, I’d trained myself to consider strange feelings and emotions to be a key part of my investigation process. It was pretty common to encounter feelings of dread, cold chills, and panic in haunted locations. So I tried to give my feeling of anxious discomfort the same consideration I would if I was investigating a haunting; I wasn’t going to push the feeling away. It was there for a reason.

  I just didn’t know what that reason was.

  My boots crunched on the gravel as I crossed the road to walk along the dirt near the trees.

  “Ugh, gross.” I pulled up my shirt to cover my nose. The wind had shifted, carrying with it the awful stench of a dead animal, sour and rotten. I looked into the trees, expecting to see a dead racoon or maybe a deer.

  But there was something else standing between the trees.

  In the dim light, I thought I was just looking at some bleached, gnarled branches between the maze of trees. The bone-gray limbs were patched with moss and spread out, some high and some low, reminding me of a spider’s web. But it was not a web, not a spider. At the conjunction of those strange, branch-like appendages was a rib-cage with taut, graying flesh stretched over the bones. There was a spindly, spine-like neck, and a canid skull with the jaw hanging open and a long black tongue lolling out.

  I blinked rapidly, my heart pounding. Were my eyes tricking me? It was at least fifty yards away. I pushed up my glasses, leaning down in an attempt to get a clearer view through the branches. It looked like a mutated, rotting dead animal. It
wasn’t moving. It was even more still than the trees themselves.

  It was probably some kind of creepy art installation.

  In fact, it had to be an art installation. Those long spindly limbs were just wood. The “ribs” were covered with some kind of goopy, painted cloth, or maybe silicone. I shook myself, shuddering as I began to walk away. The Art Festival had only been a few days ago — maybe it was common for sculptures to be set up around town. I would have to find out who was responsible for the piece. It was brilliantly placed and eerily realistic, exactly the kind of creepy shit I liked.

  Goosebumps prickled up my back, and I walked a little faster. Something still smelled awful.

  A twig snapped behind me. I swallowed hard and kept walking. I wasn’t about to indulge that prickly, nagging fear.

  There was nothing to be afraid of.

  Snap.

  I wasn’t far from my driveway. I could see it up ahead.

  I stopped walking.

  There had been a sound beside me, something between a bark and ragged cough. And that smell, God. Why was it so strong?

  I turned around.

  The road was empty. The streetlights had popped on, casting little pools of light leading back toward campus. But there was no one there. Not a single soul. I peered through the trees, through the catacombs of crisscrossed branches, back toward that creepy sculpture.

  It was gone.

  There was a roaring sound in my ears, like the ocean filling my head in waves of terror. I took a step back, then another. My eyes darted across the road, toward every little growing shadow. I had to be wrong. I had to be. Where the hell —

  The glow of headlights suddenly appeared behind me. I turned, to see a small white truck speeding down the road. The tires crunched as they came to a sudden halt beside me, and I narrowed my eyes in the dark as I attempted to make out the driver through the tinted windows.

  The passenger door was shoved open from the inside, and from the driver’s seat, Leon glared at me.