A sampling of Angel Rising Redemption Book 1
LaVerne Thompson
copyright 2015
Prologue
Warning to those who follow:
Evil does
not always wear the face of the unappealing. People don’t usually spend time
gazing into the eyes of the homely. On the contrary, most poor souls are too
busy looking away, or perhaps trying to pretend they don’t notice the unsightly
wart on someone’s face. Yet, they gaze raptly into the eyes of beauty.
Malevolence
can and will display the face of immense loveliness and often not just a
stunning portrait, but one reserved for gods and angels alike. After all, such
is a face with which to become enraptured. Mortals are unable to look away from
those eyes of deepest midnight, set in such perfectly symmetrical beautiful
features, only to be ensnared in the abyss of their own destruction. Most
people don’t bother to look past the façade. If, for some reason, they happen
to catch a glimpse of the vast emptiness lying within the portals to what
should have been a soul, they discount it. Claiming it is nothing more than a
trick of the light. More fool they.
People are
experts at denial, especially with what they don’t understand. Or fear. Which is why those with hollow
souls exist unknown among us. The soulless ones roam the world looking for
something to fill the void inside, craving the emotions they do not have. Human
blood, fueled on strong emotions, provides such nourishment.
Hate and
violence are the most filling and favored, but over time, require vast amounts
of human fodder. These emotions are the easiest to understand and manipulate on
a large and more satisfying degree. It is mere child’s play for these soulless
creatures to manipulate brother to kill brother, or friend to turn on friend,
and then gorge on the resulting hatred and violence. When one is nearby, death
is sure to follow.
All it
takes is a whisper in the right ear—at the right moment. Timing is everything. Wherever
there is war, destruction, fear or strife, there is one without a soul nearby,
filling the desolation with strong emotion. Guaranteeing the escalation of
negative, destructive energies.
However, as
with most things under God’s creation, there are gray areas and exceptions.
Some soulless ones are not evil and merely wish to survive, to exist among us.
Without a soul they must be, but they try to maintain a balance, taking as well
as giving. While one kind kills, the other doesn’t. They even bring a sense of
relief. But there is no easy way to tell the difference between those that do
and those that don’t until it is much too late.
So, if you
happen to catch a glimpse of anyone with black, dead, depthless eyes, it is not
a trick of the light. Look away. Then, Run!
Kalipia, first Chronicler
Chapter One
The man
stood in front of the building housing his uncle’s dojo and inhaled. The odors
of sweat and even a little blood filled his senses. Exhaling, his warm breath
frosted white when mixed with the cold. He pushed against the closed door and
it opened. The sounds of grunting inside reminded him of his own victories and
defeats. It drew him beyond the empty waiting area and down the long hallway
flanked by classroom doors. The only lit room flagged the last evening class
coming to an end. But he wasn’t there for class. He made his way to the back of
the building to the only door without a window on it—Samuel’s office.
Beyond the
open doorway, he found his uncle seated behind his desk.
Samuel
looked up as soon as he walked in. His uncle rose, coming around the desk to
hug him and pat him on the back. “Karl, what are you doing here?”
Considered
tall at six feet, he still had to glance up at his uncle who had a good three
inches on him. Even though they both had the same green eyes and sharp
cheekbones, he had red hair while his uncle’s was dark brown with blond
highlights. And whereas, Karl just turned twenty-eight, his uncle only looked
about twenty-eight. The nature of their blood relationship was complicated.
“Not that
I’m not damn glad to see you,” Samuel continued, “But it’s late. Is Brenda
alright?”
Karl pulled
away from his uncle and raked jittery hands through his short-cropped hair.
“Yeah, she’s fine. She’s home.”
“Come on,
sit down,” Samuel urged, closing the door and gesturing to one of two chairs in
the room.
So far so
good. Karl took a seat, inhaling this time to calm his racing nerves. He should
have known his uncle would be happy to see him. Now, he felt guilty he hadn’t
done more to keep in touch.
Samuel
leaned against his desk facing him. “Okay, I know something’s wrong. What is
it?”
His uncle
could read his emotions. “I’d forgotten about that.”
“Two years
is too long, Karl.”
They’d last
seen each other on Karl’s wedding day. After Karl’s marriage, Samuel put
distance between them. His uncle’s way of trying to protect him, since Karl
didn’t want to tell his bride the truth about himself or Samuel.
Samuel
looked a little sad. “I didn’t want it to be this way.”
“I know. I
couldn’t tell her.”
“Just
because I was against the marriage at first, because I thought you were both
too young, does not mean I’m not happy you found love.”
Karl
grinned. Practically everyone they knew, even the eighty-five-year-old
maintenance man in the building, would be too young for Samuel. “I understand,
Samuel. It was because of my own fears and immaturity that you cut me loose.
You did the right thing.”
“True, and
by staying out of your way neither one of us would have to lie to your wife
about the ugly side of my life.”
Karl
nodded. “I know. And I understood, still do.”
“You’re
here now and I’ve missed you, man,” Samuel said, crossing his arms over his
chest. “But I would also never allow Brenda to be anywhere near the danger I’m
involved in.”
Karl’s
mouth curled up into a weak smile. First and foremost, Samuel protected those
closest to him. Which is what made this both difficult and easy.
“Okay. So
what’s going on?” Samuel asked. “Your depression is beating at me, and you’ve
lost a little weight.”
Karl hung his
head then raised it to look his blood uncle in the eyes. After so long of
having to hide his true feelings, he allowed his fears to surface. “I lost my
job as a broker about eight months ago. But even before that, things were
tight. We lost a lot of money in the stock market and have been living on
savings. I’m—I’m facing foreclosure.”
“Shit!”
Samuel dropped his hands to the desk. “Why didn’t you come to me sooner?”
He shrugged
his shoulders. “Brenda doesn’t know. She thinks I’m out buying more wine for our
cellar. God, man, I feel like such a failure.” His damn pride, the reason why
he hadn’t gone to Samuel earlier. Shit, pride didn’t pay bills.
“You are
not a failure.” Samuel leaned forward a little. “I should have paid closer
attention to you both. Okay. What’s left on the note for your brownstone?”
Karl told
him.
Samuel
moved back behind the desk and opened up the laptop on it. “What’s your
checking account number?” He took his bankcard out of his wallet and passed it
to him.
“I don’t
want a hand out, Samuel. I will pay you back.”
“Oh, no you
won’t. You’re family. I have more than enough for ten life times. Besides, if
anything happens to me, it’s all yours anyway.”
“Thank
you.” One less thing to worry about, but regardless of what Samuel said, he had
to find a way to pay his uncle back. He’d been wrong to allow Samuel to stay
out of their lives. He could have approached the man before this happened.
A knock on
the closed door had Samuel glancing toward it. “Come in.”
A tall,
dark-skinned, heavily muscled man stepped into the room. “Hey, sorry to bother
you. Just wanted you to know class is over and I’m ready to roll whenever you
are.”
“Eric, this
is my nephew, Karl.”
“Hey,
Karl,” Eric said, stepping forward to shake Karl’s hand.
Karl noted
he didn’t bat an eye at the fact he appeared older than his uncle. Which meant
he knew Samuel’s secret.
Samuel
tossed Eric a set of keys. “Saddle up. I’ll be with you in five.”
“Cool. Nice
meeting you,” Eric nodded, then left.
“I don’t
recognize him?” Karl noted.
“Yeah, he
started not too long after you left. There are quite a few new members.”
“Are you
going out tonight?” Karl asked, getting an idea.
Samuel
nodded. “Yes. We’ve seen a pattern.”
“Then I’m
coming with you,” he offered.
His uncle
smiled and shook his head. “We’re good.”
“But you
can use my emotions,” Karl insisted. “They’re still running high, and I can
focus on them.”
“No.”
“Samuel.
Let me do this.” He gripped the arms of the chair. “I can help. Remember, I was
trained by the best.”
His uncle
paused, staring at him intently before grinning. “Okay. Last time.”
Karl
released the breath he’d been holding and relaxed his hands. He owed his uncle
so much and regretted not telling him about the baby—he couldn’t. If Samuel
knew Brenda was ten weeks pregnant, Samuel Glaus would never let him put
himself at risk. But he had to. His small way of making up with his uncle and
paying him back.
Thalya
stood alone on her balcony, hands braced on the wide stone railing overlooking
Central Park. The wind picked up, blowing her chest length curls away from her
face and cutting through the material of her thigh high sleeveless silk dress.
Bitter cold accompanied the end of January or so she understood. She would love
this time of year, if she could, even the cold. Too bad, she couldn’t feel any
of it. No matter the external temperature, her body heat never changed.
Winter
boasted her most fulfilling time of the modern year. The onset of depression.
The time mortals realize they’ve spent way too much of the money they did not
have over the holidays and now owed more than they could afford. Then, maybe
they have gained twenty pounds during those holidays on top of the twenty
already making them overweight. Or how about the woman, who at thirty, not only
didn’t get an engagement ring for Christmas, but also by New Year’s, she no
longer has a boyfriend?
To walk the
earth she must feed her hollow soul. Yes, this time of year kept the void
inside her full of emotion. The kind she craved. Mortals were so ripe for
plucking. Hunger had her licking her full cranberry-colored lips in
anticipation…the void within would soon be filled.
Opening up
her senses, she sniffed out the most depressed in the city block around her.
While she had no human sense of smell, the scents of emotions to her were as
potent, as humans would say a bouquet of freshly cut roses. She could have gone
out and canvassed a wider area but her favorite show, Being Human would start
in a half hour. She never liked recording the program if she could help it, so
she tried not to miss an episode.
Thalya
preferred to live in the moment, because she’d had enough of the past. Besides,
she didn’t have to go far, plenty of depression existed right around her. Why,
right across the street a man entered the park. The scent of his depression rode
right to her on the wind. Hot, potent and yummy, she would feed on it for a few
days. There were no others of her kind in the area, so she wouldn’t have to
warn anyone off. Although, quite a few soulless resided in New York, the size of
the area ensured she didn’t run into others if she didn’t want to, which she
usually didn’t.
Going back
inside her penthouse condo, she walked across thick sand-colored carpet. Her
artist friend, Franklin, would have both loved and hated the great room. Loved
it for the cool colors—reds, beiges, and golds. Those had been his favorites,
but then she’d stuck a long, extra-wide black leather sofa smack in the center
of it. He hated leather and black.
Franklin,
long gone…just another from her past.
She changed
her mind about recording her show and headed for her entertainment control pad
sitting on the low side table. The pad came with the flat TV. Picking up the
control, she programmed it. Just in case. A long, dark chocolate colored
leather coat lay over the arm of the sofa. She grabbed the coat, put it on and
headed for her private elevator. She didn’t need it but she wanted to blend in.
No jumping from her balcony or moving too fast for any mortal eyes to see.
Tonight she would act normal. Normal, at least for a human. As an additional
benefit, when she walked through her lobby to get to the street, she would open
her senses to her immediate surroundings, sampling a taste of surface emotions
as she passed by. A nice appetizer before her main course.
Not all of
her kind could suck out emotion without touch but as an olden, one from a time
long past and more powerful than most, she could. But other things also set her
apart from those like her. She did not need to kill her providers or have them
kill others to satisfy her needs. Draining humans of their depression, her
emotion of choice, more than satisfied her. Why, she didn’t even have to cause
it. Humans had it in abundance. She merely put her providers to sleep and
afterwards, they usually woke up feeling less depressed. Hers represented a
more symbiotic relationship. She actually helped people, much like a
psychiatrist would. Only, instead of talking them out of their depression, she
drained it right out of them.
The
elevator door opened and she got on.
This hotel
where she lived also housed private residences, but a few guest milled around
the lobby for the evening. Just enough people around with some serious issues
to make her grin and tremble within her ankle-length leather coat.
“Delicious,”
she purred, savoring her version of oysters on a half shell. Red knee high
stiletto boots clicked as she crossed the polished marble floor. She ignored
the appreciative looks of the men and women as she glided among them,
intentionally projecting a do not
approach compulsion. Look but don’t touch, unless she was the one doing the
touching.
The doorman
opened the door for her and smiled. “Good evening. Cold one tonight.” Bundled
in layers and with a wool cap on his head, he stood directly beneath a heating
vent to stay warm.
He always
spoke. She rarely did and tonight, she didn’t. She flashed him some teeth in
the semblance of a smile. At least she hoped it looked like a smile and not a
grimace. Happiness. It rolled off him in waves. She’d never tried draining that emotion from her providers,
although over the centuries she’d met a few of her kind who preferred it.
Anything to fill the void in the soulless place. But stealing someone else’s
happiness always seemed unnecessary to her. Depression worked just fine.
Out on the
sidewalk, the scent hit her again. Like a shining point of light in dark woods,
the depressed man she’d sensed beckoned her to follow him. After crossing the
street, Thalya entered the park. It didn’t take long to find him.
He sat on a
bench at the other end of the park, leaning over with his head in his hands.
She
wouldn’t be able to read his thoughts until she actually touched him. No
matter, she sensed his depression.
He’d picked
a bench away from the lighted path, but they didn’t have complete privacy. A
few people walked through the park at the other end and they weren’t far from
the street. Still, she could not resist. No more than the moth could fight
being drawn to a roaring flame. They were secluded enough for her purpose.
Besides, anyone could look in their direction any time, but no one would see
anything alarming. Just a beautiful woman sitting with a man. Even if they did
notice, it wouldn’t prevent her from doing what she must. Her survival demanded
it.
She sat on
the bench next to him; he didn’t even bother to look up. Thalya placed her hand
on his shoulder and her inner feminine muscles contracted to the point, she
almost had an orgasm.
Depression, and so potent.
“Mmm,
good,” she murmured.
At her touch,
he raised red-rimmed eyes in her direction.
Finally,
she had his attention.
He pulled
back slightly, some form of self-preservation kicking in. “Who—are you?”
“Shhh. It
will be all right. I promise,” she whispered.
The man sat
up and she wrapped her arms around him.
Unable to
help himself, he let her.
Hmm, handsome. She always seemed to gravitate
toward the young, good-looking ones, although she’d never sleep with any of
them. Well, hardly ever. She nuzzled the side of his neck. Under the alcohol he’d
indulged in, he had a nice clear human scent. Given his emotional state, she’d
expected the scent of alcohol to be stronger. Surprisingly she only caught a
slight whiff. No more than a beer. Maybe he just started on his drinking for
the evening. Didn’t matter. Whatever he’d ingested, she didn’t care about.
“What—?”
She didn’t
give him a chance to say more. Instead, she made her way to his mouth, which
opened as soon as she pressed her lips against his. Unleashing her powers, she
inhaled his depression into the starving emptiness that should have housed her
soul, and at the same time, began to read his memories.
Poor thing. Karl, yes…Karl Hammer. He’d recently lost his job and his wife,
pregnant with their first child, someone didn’t know about it. He’d swallowed
his pride and asked his blood uncle of sorts for help. Except Karl hadn’t
spoken to his uncle in years. Mmm,
interesting. She probed for the reason why.
Samuel and
the others like him lived a dangerous life. Samuel, a master hunter of the
soulless and Karl, merely…bait.
“What the
hell?” Thalya pulled away from the man who now slumped against her shoulder.
She’d drained him of his depression and swallowed his more recent memories in
seconds, but his last thought had her trembling. The soulless did not know
fear, but throughout the ages, a small secret group of humans would appear who
were aware of their existence. Well trained in combating her kind, they made it
their life’s work to hunt and destroy every soulless. But—that happened a long,
long time ago, when the soulless killed more openly and much less discretely.
Didn’t it?
“This cannot
be,” Thalya mumbled. She had heard nothing about a new era of hunters in this
area. Then again, she didn’t exactly watch the news or read the newspapers on a
regular basis. Such a thing would not be on the news, anyway. She preferred not
reading about wars, death and the prejudices of man. She had her television
shows, her books and other forms of entertainment. Also, a few friends of her
kind, but she didn’t see them often. Only about every few decades or so. Like
her, most of her friends fed off depression or hopelessness. They never caused
it.
The last
soulless she’d spent any real time with was Adam, another olden and the ancient
among them, a couple hundred years ago now.
“Stay away
from the other soulless,” Adam had told her. “Especially, the ones manipulating
terror.”
“Give me
some credit,” she’d replied. “I know they manipulate human emotions to suit
their needs.”
“More
importantly, they take blood and thrive on the more dangerous emotions: anger,
hate and fear. Emotions they themselves cause born of cruelty and death,” Adam
had said.
“I know.
They carry off a completely different vibe.” She’d been around enough of them
to know the difference and wanted no part of those who dealt in death. She
spent time with Adam because back then, the soulless were hunted. Nothing would
harm her under his protection.
“And they
are the reason we are hunted to begin with,” Adam said. Adam did what he could
to prevent human deaths, but even he disappeared every few hundred years or so,
and her kind grew bolder in his absence.
The last
few times she’d noticed the news, there’d been certain items catching even her
attention, if briefly. An increase in violent family crimes where a mother or
father killed an entire family or an entire family disappeared, except for one
member. They’d made her wonder if those other types of soulless were on the
rise once more.
If they
were causing havoc again, the hunt would be on for all soulless. The hunters never bothered to understand the
difference between one of her kind, who sought human providers, and those
others who sought human prey.
Thalya
didn’t glance at her provider again, just lowered him gently to the bench.
He would
continue to sleep for a few minutes, waking up refreshed.
She need
not fear Karl. His uncle, however, she did not want to encounter. A slight
stirring in the air made her glance in the direction of the shadowed area of
the walkway. Her keen eyesight, able to penetrate the dark saw nothing, but
something, someone hid there. Watching her.
Not wasting
time to find out who or what waited in the shadows, Thalya stood and walked
hurriedly away. She only fought when absolutely necessary, preferring to avoid
confrontation. No human and not many of her own kind could out run her. At
first, she headed toward her building but soon realized she’d been followed
from the park. Too close. Instead of crossing the street and entering the
hotel, she continued moving quickly down the sidewalk, away from her building.
She increased her speed to lose her pursuer in the crowds.
Whoever
followed her proved better than good. He kept up with her, even at a pace
beyond human ability. But she still hadn’t moved as quickly as she could. She
found it fascinating and so little made her curious. Perhaps, because she’d
just fed, she held a modicum of borrowed emotion.
A male
tailed her. Testosterone dominated his emotional scent at the thrill of the
chase.
After a
quick decision, she ducked into a bar to see if he would follow.
Friday
night, so humans looking for a quick hook up or something more packed the
place. Perfect neutral ground. A few high round tabletops stood near the bar
but all were occupied.
Thalya
focused on one in the far corner where a couple sat in privacy. Something she
might need. She headed in their direction and stopped beside their table.
The man and
woman both glanced up at her.
Casually,
she placed a hand on each of their shoulders, and they jerked as she captured
first one gaze, then the other. With her powers of persuasion, she calmed them
and gently pushed them in the direction they were already headed—back to his
place. With a passing thought, Thalya changed the suggestion to the woman’s
apartment. She had a roommate. A girl couldn’t be too careful.
Without a
word, the couple rose, grabbed their coats from the back of the stools, and
walked out of the bar.
Thalya
smiled at their retreating backs and then took off her jacket, draped it over
one of the vacated stools, and sat with her back to the door.
Her pursuer
did not disappoint.
The fine
hairs standing at attention at the base of her neck alerted her to his
presence.
Ah, now she understood better. Her
instincts never failed her. Not quite human, but not soulless either. A puzzle.
She didn’t bother to turn around, just pushed the stool out across from her—a
silent invitation for him to sit. She could not experience enjoyment from a
puzzle but puzzles held her attention. This one especially.
Chapter Two
A puzzle.
Samuel
never did like them. This female didn’t react like the others. For one thing,
she hadn’t taken blood from Karl. She’d just kissed him and put him to sleep.
Samuel had paused long enough to check on his nephew and signal in back up to
take care of him. While there were no puncture wounds on his neck, confirming
she hadn’t taken any blood and his kin didn’t appear hurt, something did
happen. Other than the unexpected rage, overcoming him when he watched her
mouth pressed against another man’s. He’d had an instinctual urge to rip Karl
away from her by his hair, and not harm her.
He shook
his head. No. Not possible. He only felt rage on Karl’s behalf. After all, his
relative’s life had been threatened by a bloodsucker. Yet, she’d run away
instead of confronting him and yes, she knew she’d been watched. Almost always
the soulless fought, feeding off the physical confrontation unless they were
losing. Then they high tailed it—if they could.
Why hadn’t she taken any blood? The
million dollar question he needed answered and what drove him after her. He
just couldn’t quite figure out what she’d done to Karl. Something had happened;
his instincts never failed him. They screamed at him she held no soul,
but…there was a difference about her. Whatever he sensed separated her from
others of her kind—the soulless ones.
Over the
years, he’d heard rumors some bloodsuckers were different, but he’d never quite
believed it, or rather allowed himself to do so. Even though his very existence
proved at least one had been different. Until now, he didn’t dare believe there
were others. Well, the something different about her he’d sensed and the fact
she hadn’t taken Karl’s blood being the only reasons he hadn’t killed her back
at the park, and still wouldn’t—at least not quite yet. It’d been a long time
since anything had interested him on so many levels, especially a woman, one
unlike any female he’d ever encountered. That alone got his attention.
“Hello.”
Her voice
came across as smooth, like taking a sip from a glass of hundred-year-old
brandy. Nothing but pleasure generated from the heat making a path inside him.
The way he wanted inside her. The combination of her voice and looks had his
long dormant cells waking up and paying attention when they should damn well stay
dormant. He could use one of those glasses of brandy right about now. Maybe it
would wake him up from this fantasy.
Samuel
hadn’t gotten a good look at her face, just a flash of red heels as she moved.
Either her back or profile had been turned to him. Unable to help himself, he
paused after he pulled out the stool. To cover his hesitation, he took off his
heavy jacket and placed it on the back of the stool before sitting. His weapon,
a short sword, lay hidden in a sheath sewn into a side panel, still within easy
reach.
All of the
soulless ones he’d encountered since becoming a hunter six hundred years ago
had been beautiful, whether male or female. Literally, deathly so. The woman
seated before him did not qualify as the exception, far from it. About runway
model height and beautiful enough to make them look like rejects, her coloring
reminded him of toffee, her complexion being just a richer darker shade of
toffee candy than her hair. Plump lips in a heart-shaped flawless face had him
wondering about the way she tasted. Did she taste like the candy she resembled?
She might not be the first soulless female he’d encountered, but she was the
first to get this reaction of intense attraction from him. As well as one of
the most memorable.
“Hello,” he
finally replied, purposely sitting back and folding his arms on the table in
front of him.
Her gaze
held his, her eyes were the same pitch black of all soulless, yet nothing
seemed empty about them. His image looked back at him in their depths. Not possible.
There
should be no reflection, just a sea of endless darkness the unwary would drown
in. He blinked and looked away, knowing what it meant to look too deeply into
the eyes of these creatures. They beguiled humans and their prey ended up
losing a sense of self, resulting in death. But then again, he was more than
human. He turned and met her direct stare again. His reflection still lay
within.
The
waitress heading in their direction prompted him to glance away, a welcome
distraction. “A glass of Remy Martin, please,” he told the young lady before
she could ask.
The woman
across from him shook her main of curly hair at the waitress to indicate she
didn’t want anything. The strands cascaded over her shoulders covering the
material at the tip of one of her breasts.
He wondered
if the texture of her hair felt as soft as it looked. What the hell! “Wait,” he said to the waitress as she turned away.
Maybe he needed a little something to smooth his restless soul. “Do you have
any Courvoisier L’Espirt?”
She frowned
like he spoke unrecognizable French.
Well, that
answered that. “Never mind, the Remy’s fine. And a full glass.” He would need
it. Figures, this little hole in the wall wouldn’t have something going for
over sixty-eight hundred a bottle. He’d have to wait until he got home to get a
decent drink.
“Hmm, and
you have excellent taste too.”
The word
excellent sounded more like a purr, reminding him he still had to deal with the
being in front of him, and this—he hesitated, not wanting to think in terms of
attraction but unable to come up with another word for the force gripping him. Once
the waitress moved off, Samuel gathered his mental defenses about him. He would
need all of his formidable skills around this woman. “Yes, very,” he finally
replied.
Instinct made
him clamp down on his emotions and thoughts but the attraction still surfaced,
which should have been unfeasible. His control had never before been breached.
Too bad, the pull between them gave lie to his claim of control. The waves of
tension burned so brightly, he could practically see the visual links in the
way their bodies strained to and away from each other as they leaned across the
table.
“Who are
you?” She tilted her head slightly, probing at his defenses. “What are you?”
He smiled,
even chuckling a little at her boldness. Something he hadn’t done in a long
time. Damn, interesting and unbelievably beautiful, even for one of her kind.
“A little forward, don’t you think?”
“Perhaps,
but who chased whom? You obviously want something, so I allowed myself to
be…caught, to satisfy your curiosity.”
He raised
one eyebrow at her. “You did, did you?”
She
grinned, showing perfect white teeth in an already otherworldly beautiful face.
“Oh, yes. But in exchange I think my questions need answers too.”
He nodded, liking
her even more. Perhaps a more dangerous emotion to have around one who feeds on
it. “My name is Samuel Glaus. Yours?”
Her eyes
narrowed and she seemed to contemplate her response.
Whether the
reaction was about his name or his request for hers, he wasn’t sure. “Oh come
on,” he said shifting on the stool to fold his arms on the small lacquer
tabletop between them. “I thought we agreed to exchange answers.”
“In a
manner of speaking. You may call me Thalya.”
“Well
Thalya, I think you already know I’m a hunter, and the only reason you’re not
dead is because as far as I could tell, you didn’t harm Karl back at the park.”
Her full
lips curled up at the corners.
Watching
her, he found himself grinning back at her, like they were friends or
something. Better yet, if he could just kiss the edges around her luscious
mouth. He shoved those thoughts out of his head and tightened his emotions down
even more. For the first time in many years, he had to fight against his
instincts rather than follow them. He frowned instead. “You’re not like the
other soulless bloodsuckers I’ve encountered.”
“Soulless I
might be, but blood…” She shivered as if to indicate distaste. “Yuck!”
Either he
read her actions correctly or she appeared craftier than the others. Maybe
both. “So you say, but what exactly did you do to Karl?”
“Tell you
what, I’ll tell you what I did and you tell me what you are.” She waved a
well-manicured hand with nails painted a dark red in the air before him. “Yes,
yes I know you’re a hunter and all, but you’re not quite human.”
The
slenderness of her hands fascinated him. He wondered about her touch and what
to tell her about himself. This time, he let instinct guide him. “Fine. You
first.”
She leaned
closer and crossed her arms on the small tabletop between them, mimicking his
posture.
He
automatically moved forward, to better hear her, not to catch another whiff of
her fragrance. In all his considerable years and travels, he’d never smelled
anything like it. If twilight had a scent, this would be it. No perfume crafted
by man had this essence—the scent of wild nights and all Thalya. Only an inch
separated their fingers from touching on the table, but it might as well have
been a thousand miles. He could never know her touch.
When she
finally spoke, Thalya pitched her voice low, like she told him a prized secret,
“I took his depression.”
He needed a
moment to reply, captivated by the woman more than her response. What the hell? He shook his head to get
back into this game. “Exactly.”
“That’s the
emotion I feed on, but I do not cause it. So, no killing or bleeding necessary.
When Karl wakes up, he’ll feel refreshed and less depressed.”
“What?” He
reared back just as the waitress approached with his brandy. He waited for her
to leave before he leaned forward again. “What do you mean, the emotion you
feed on?” he whispered harshly. “Don’t all your kind feed on blood filled with
any strong human emotion?”
She shook
her head. “Gracious no. The problem with you hunters is you never could tell
the difference among us. Most of us only feed on human emotions, period, not
blood, leaving the human quite unharmed from the encounter and at times,
feeling better than when we found them.”
He took a
sip of his brandy. “That’s debatable.” The warmth seeping through his veins did
nothing to ease the problems she posed for him. Maybe he should have ordered
something stronger.
“But true.
Why don’t you call—your nephew, is it?—and see for yourself? He should be awake
by now.”
Samuel
frowned, surprised at her suggestion. Still, he pulled out his cell and called
Karl, who answered on the third ring.
“Everything
okay?”
“Yeah. I’m
fine,” Karl replied. “I left Eric and I’m headed home now. Listen, thank you
for letting me do this. Things will be much better now.”
“No, thank
you for tonight. I’ll check on you tomorrow.”
“Do that.
And Samuel, I expect us to see more of you.”
“We’ll
see.” Samuel ended the call, not wanting to say too much in front of Thalya.
Even though centuries of great uncles stood between him and his nephew Karl, it
didn’t matter. Samuel would always protect his family. It irritated him a
little to find Thalya spoke the truth. Karl did sound a lot better, more
confident than when he’d first stopped by to see him earlier. But the funds
Samuel had immediately transferred into Karl’s account probably had more to do
with his emotional state than whatever Thalya had done.
“Doesn’t
prove anything,” he retorted as he placed his phone back into his pocket. “I
know strong negative or destructive human emotions attract your kind and Karl
focused on his depression to reel you in. He already knew after tonight he’d be
fine, his personal situation taken care of. So, I doubt you had anything to do
with the change in his emotional state. He just stopped focusing on those
negative emotions.” He shrugged, and took another sip from his glass, feigning
nonchalance. “You probably didn’t have a chance to do what you really needed to
do.”
“Which
was?”
“Take his
blood.”
She rolled
her eyes. “I’ve never wanted or needed to take blood. By the time I was aware
of you, I’d already finished feeding.”
“All you’d
done was butter him up with a kiss.” Even to his own ears the accusation came
out angry and accusatory, like something a jealous lover would say. Whoa, where
the hell did these thoughts continue to come from? Never gonna happen. Was it?
“What, are
you…dense?” She smiled. “Kissing is how I feed.”
“Excuse
me?” He shook his head, sure he hadn’t heard her right.
“I
literally pull the emotion out of my providers by inhaling their breath.”
“‘Providers?
You mean prey.”
She sat
back and crossed her legs. “I say exactly what I mean.”
He folded
his arms on the table. “Okay, we won’t quibble over the right P word.”
“We’re not
going to quibble at all. Now, I told you what you wanted to know. Seems you owe
me, so it’s your turn.” She leaned forward again. “What are you?”
He took
another slow sip of his brandy, letting the liquid settle into his bones. Could
this be true? He knew at least one soulless who had not survived solely on
blood. No question Thalya’s kind were attracted to humans projecting strong
emotions. Some types more than others. So, why couldn’t the way they extract
emotion differ. Taking a risk, he told her what she wanted to know. It’s not as
if they kept his existence among hunters or soulless a secret. “For want of a
better term, I’m a hybrid. One of your kind and a human.”
She sat up
in her seat. “But—but that’s impossible. We can’t create life.”
“Maybe, yet
here I am.”
“How could
such a thing be?” she asked, the sound of amazement ringing clear in her tone.
He
shrugged. “As far as I know, I’m the only one. But my father was one of you and
my mother, as human as they come.” His father had stopped feeding off the blood
of humans long before he’d met his mother. So, it made sense he had to find
some other way to feed, but Samuel didn’t admit that to her.
“Are they
both still alive?”
“No. I’m a
lot older than I look. They died a very long time ago when I was a boy. My
mother first and my father shortly after.”
“Died? How
could he die?”
“My parents
loved each other very much, and less than a week after she passed he didn’t get
out of bed one morning. Like he’d willed himself to be wherever she’d gone.” Samuel
didn’t understand why he told her so much. His innate senses understood and
responded to something different about her from the others hunted and killed.
Even knowing she didn’t have a soul, he couldn’t deny on some level she drew
him to her.
Also, she
had a scent. None of the others did. Not even bad breath after they’d fed. Just
the scent of blood from the deceased.
He’d been a
loner by necessity, yet this female presented unfamiliar territory for him.
Women around him aged, he didn’t. Thalya might understand his history and not
run away from him, screaming in terror. Even among the few female hunters he’d
known, he never got close emotionally to any of them. Never wanted to.
“Then how
do you have a nephew?” Her question brought him back to their conversation and
away from his inner turmoil.
“He’s a
nephew several generations removed. I had an older human half-sister. We shared
the same mother, different fathers.” A sister who hated his father and the
reason he’d become a hunter.
Thalya
frowned. “A human sister. What happened to her?”
“After my
father’s death, Aaline came and took me to live with her.” He understood
Aaline’s resentment of his father, Derry. Even though Derry treated her as a
daughter, she’d seen Derry kill her father and never forgiven him for it. But
she’d been a mere a child at the time and traumatized.
“But
there’s more to you, isn’t there?” Thalya asked. “You carry some of your
father’s abilities too.”
He nodded.
“Yes I do.”
“Then why
did you start hunting your father’s kind?”
A good
question one, he found himself answering, “That happened over time. My sister
ran away a couple of years before our parents died and joined with a group of
hunters. After my father’s death, she came and took me to stay with her, so I
lived amongst them for a time without really being a part of the hunt. But when
my, ah, special abilities began to show, it seemed right to help my sister and
the other hunters use that advantage in the quest against the soulless.”
“I see. You
sense us.”
He nodded.
“Yes. I made sure the innocent didn’t suffer.”
It hadn’t
been hard for the sister he adored to convince him the soulless needed
stopping. “I’d seen for myself the death and destruction your kind cause in
order to feed.” He simply refused to believe his beloved father, Derry, had
been like the rest of them. According to what their mother told him, Aaline’s
father was the only human Derry had ever killed and Samuel believed her.
“I’ve only
known of one who hadn’t killed his victims.” Samuel always thought of his
father as different, one of a kind. Maybe the woman seated before him could
somehow be different too. Or maybe he just wanted her to be.
“We are not
all the same,” she insisted.
“My father
was different,” he told her. “For one thing, he married my mother and stopped
taking blood.”
“I don’t
take blood, not all of us do. But how could he tie himself to a human?” she
asked, shaking her head. “He’d never age, and if he died, really died, he can’t
enter heaven. His fate is worse than being condemned to hell. He ceases to
exist.”
“That would
be true, had he remained soulless.”
She
frowned. “But—you said he was like me. Soulless.”
He nodded.
“Yes, but before I was born. I’m not sure how long he’d been alive, he never
said, but he remained soulless until he met my mother. He loved her and she
loved him, because of her and the love they shared, he grew a soul. He began to
age, and he died.”
“Are you
sure of this?” She narrowed her eyes and stared at him, as though trying to
probe his mind for the truth.
“Oh, yes.”
He stared intently back at her, letting her know he did speak the truth. “All
you had to do was look into his eyes, and you’d see it. They were green like
mine.”
“Oh,
Grace!” She raked her hand through her hair. “Then the myth is true. And you
have a soul. I can feel it.”
“Yes. What
myth?”
“Over the
years I’ve heard myths, stories that some of us were able to acquire souls.
Though, no one I knew had ever done so or known anyone who had. The stories on
how always differed but none of them mentioned love, an emotion most of us are
unfamiliar with and not one I feed on. I know some of my kind who do and
usually they travel in pairs.”
“The
soulless ones I’ve run into seem to favor fear, hatred and violence,” he said.
“They encourage it, then feast on the aftermath and they’ve always taken blood.
Even my father, before he met my mother, took blood, but he didn’t kill. He
might have been drawn to those who were already full of rage or fear. He never
caused or encouraged the emotions in others. It’s how he met my mother.”
Samuel’s
mind leapt to the stories he’d been told of how Aaline’s father had beaten
their mother so badly, she’d almost died. Aaline had watched his father kill
hers, too traumatized to understand his father did it to save their mother’s
life. Soulless, his father might have been at the time, but even he stopped an
injustice. Thoughts of his father brought up another. Would killing Thalya also
be an injustice?
Samuel
stared at her, unable to answer the question. Hell, he had no idea why he’d
told her so much about himself. Too much. Yet, the same thing compelling him to
stay his hand instead of slaying her in the park pushed at him now.
“I am no
blood drinker,” Thalya stated after they’d been silent for a while. “Never have
been, never will be.” She reached for his brandy. “Although I do try to drink a
good brandy on occasion. I know the great effort humans put into its making,
but my emotion of choice has always been depression, despair. And no, I do not
cause it. I’m drawn to those emotions. These are the humans I can help.”
He watched
her place her lips to his glass, tilt back her head and down a good bit of his
drink.
