Dark Strike, page 9
“Are you going to have some wine or are you just going to stare at it all night?” Gareth sat next to me on the couch. The warmth of his thigh against mine was pleasant and soothing. He reached out and rubbed my back in slow, even strokes. It felt awesome. He was awesome. But I couldn’t shake this feeling in my stomach, this sick feeling that the necromancers were onto something, and the situation with those poor people was just the beginning of something much worse.
“You barely touched your food.” Gareth’s eyes were wide and uncertain, and I knew he was worried about me.
He’d made dinner. Curry chicken. It was amazing, and my taste buds had had a party inside my mouth, which left me feeling even more guilty that I’d had maybe two bites.
After watching the last church helicopter take off with the last of the soulless people, we’d all gone home, mentally exhausted, and frustrated. Danto came to pick up Layla from my place and Tyrius had excused himself in a hurry, wanting to be with his wife and kids and my gran.
“Talk to me. I hate seeing you like this.” Gareth reached out and pulled my hands so that I turned around and faced him. Wow. A man who actually wanted to talk. I was in heaven.
I reached over and pinched the skin on his arm. Hard.
He barely reacted. I just got a cocked eyebrow from him. “What was that for?”
I shrugged and smiled. “Just checking to make sure you’re real.”
Gareth laughed, the deep sound vibrating through me. The intensity in his dark eyes sent tingling jolts all over my skin, making my blood pound.
I opened my mouth and then closed it again, trying to figure out how to word what I was feeling without sounding mad. “I have this feeling,” I tried again.
“What kind of feeling?”
I gave a small laugh. “A very bad one.” I angled my body toward him and draped my leg over his.
Gareth propped his head on his elbow. “You can tell me. I can take it.”
A smirk lifted my lips. “Well, since you’re badgering me and everything… I have this tightness in my gut, like what we discovered today is a glimpse of something a lot worse. When I think of all those people… I mean, what the necromancers did to them is sick and twisted, but they were locked up there for a reason.”
Gareth was silent for a moment. “Part of a bigger plan.”
“Exactly.” I traced my eyes over his face. “I can’t stop thinking about it. So, we need to figure out what this bigger plan is before the necromancers start replacing those soulless people with more of them.” It was a guess, but I had a feeling it was a very good guess.
The elf put one of his big hands on my leg. “They must have another temple somewhere in the city or close to it.”
I raised my brows. “I hadn’t thought of that. You think Cynthia would know?”
“We can ask her. It’s worth a try.”
I laced my fingers with his. “While you’re at it, you should ask her about the people in the barn. If she was raised in that community, she might know why they were put in there in the first place. Maybe she knows how the necromancers can steal a person’s soul and keep them alive. She probably knows a lot more too.”
Gareth rubbed his thumb over my hand. “I’ll call Father Thomas and see if he can arrange a meeting with her.”
I nodded. “That sounds good.”
“You know what else sounds good?” The elf slipped his free hand around my waist and pulled me on top of him so I was straddling him. Then his hands slid down my sides to grasp my waist, tugging me closer.
I ran my hands up the smooth expanse of his back. Reaching upward, my fingers played with the hair at the nape of his neck.
“You naughty elf,” I whispered staring at his mouth. I couldn’t help it. My body demanded I do something. I obliged and slipped my hands under his shirt, feeling his hairless chest and the hard muscles beneath my fingers.
The elf made a low guttural sound. He pressed closer, his heat obvious through the thin material of my shirt, and smacked his lips on mine. His lips were soft and warm and demanding. His stubble rubbed my face, sending tingles over my skin. Heart pounding, a soft sound of real bliss escaped me. My tongue found the smoothness of his teeth, and his muscles under my hands tensed. I pulled my tongue away, teasing.
Feeling it, his breath came and went in a pant. His eyes were dark and full of desire.
I smiled wickedly at him as I fumbled with his belt—
A knock came from the front door.
I froze and looked up at Gareth.
“I don’t remember making plans with anyone,” I said, turning my head toward the front door. “Maybe it’s Layla or Father Thomas,” I told him, remembering how the priest had just showed up at my door yesterday.
“Don’t these people have phones?” grumbled the elf, his voice rough with traces of need still in it.
I showed him my teeth, smacked my lips against his, nibbling the bottom one, and swung my legs off of him. I rushed to the front door, glancing out the window in the hall as I went. I recognized the black clothes of the priest.
Relaxing somewhat, I pulled open the door. “Hi Father—”
A man stood on the front porch, but it wasn’t Father Thomas.
He was tall, like Gareth, and heavy-chested. Perhaps forty years old, his ordinary brown hair was going gray in uneven patches. His black shirt was wrinkled, and his jeans were stained with mud. And where Gareth carried his weight with a confident and commanding gait, this man’s posture was limper and duller, with his arms hanging loosely at his sides.
Light from the front porch glinted off his eyes, which were touched with crow’s-feet at the corners and the same shade as the people in the barn.
My heart slammed in my chest.
Holy hell.
His yellow eyes told me everything I needed to know. Except why he was here.
The stranger began to walk deliberately toward me, and I jerked back on instinct. My hands brushed my waist, only to realize I had taken off my weapons belts earlier, upstairs in my bedroom.
Crapola.
I backpedaled, keeping my body facing the soulless man, as my heart thrashed against my chest and my mind tried to make sense of what was happening.
“Gareth!” I howled as I moved back in the hallway and stumbled into the living room, the soulless man following me.
I heard the elf curse and the sound of his heavy feet hit the hardwood floor behind me. I could see his black trench coat hanging behind the soulless man on the coat rack at the entrance. We were both weaponless.
When I hit a hard body behind me, I stopped, and Gareth moved to stand next to me.
The soulless man halted, his yellow eyes darting from me to Gareth and back to me. His mouth twisted into a smile and he began to laugh. The sound was a mix of a guttural grunt with an echo, as though two voices laughed at the same time, which was seriously creepy.
Goosebumps rose on my flesh.
“You stole my subjugates,” said the man. I could hear two distinctive voices rolling out of his mouth as though this wasn’t one but two people standing before us. And then I realized the necromancer was speaking through him.
Oh, this was going to be good.
A burst of anger coated some of the disturbing sensations running through me. “You can’t steal people, asshole.”
“They were my property. And you took them.” His eyes flicked to Gareth who’d taken a step away, leaning towards the hallway. I knew he was trying to go for his coat.
I gave the soulless man a hard look. “You took those poor people and shoved them in a barn without any food or water, you dick.”
“The dead don’t need to eat.”
I felt a growl escape me. “They’re not dead. These people are alive. They would have died if it weren’t for us.” And somehow, I was going to save them, but right now, I had no idea how I was going to do that. That image of the little boy in the barn would haunt me forever if I didn’t do something.
The soulless man’s face wrinkled in what I suspected was a thoughtful expression, but it came off stiff and mechanical, like a robot trying out its facial expressions for the first time.
“The subjugates have no souls,” said the man. “You call them people, but they are not.” He gave me a lazy, wicked smile. “Not anymore.”
Grinding my teeth, I wanted nothing more than to kick this guy in the head. But I wouldn’t be hurting the necromancer. I’d be hurting that innocent man.
“Why don’t you show yourself instead of hiding behind this man? What? Are you afraid of a mere woman?” From the corner of my eye, I saw Gareth step further toward the hallway. Good. I had to keep this guy busy talking. I could do that.
The soulless man just stared at me with his yellow eyes, his face crinkling in an eerie smile.
“What’s your name?” I ventured. “Which one are you?” I tried again. “Are you the same necromancer who set the zombies on us? Or are you the leader. This… Lord Krull?” When he didn’t answer I asked, “How did you know where I live?” I hated that he’d figured out who I was and showed up here, but I hated even more that my gran, Tyrius, Kora, and their kids lived just across the street from me.
Something occurred to me. If the necromancers could see through the eyes of the soulless they piloted, it meant they’d heard our entire conversations back at the barn. They’d heard everything. And now they knew who we all were.
Crap.
The soulless man smiled again. “I know everything there is to know about you, Rowyn Sinclair.”
I cringed. So, I was right. “Is this about me giving you the finger? Grow up. It’s just a finger.” I knew it had been a bad move, but too late now. Though, it didn’t explain why he piloted the soulless man to come all the way to my house. Why even bother? Unless he wanted something.
The soulless let out a laugh that had the hair on the back of my neck rising. His eyes flicked to Gareth, who’d managed to sneak a good ten feet farther from me. “I know about the elf as well.”
Gareth froze, his face hard. “You don’t know anything about me.”
The soulless chuckled again. “You can use your elf magic on my subjugates. But it won’t change anything. You can’t touch me. Your reach is not long enough.”
It was my turn to laugh. “How ‘bout you step out of that body and we’ll show you how long.”
His head moved from side to side, his yellow eyes widening when he saw something of interest in my living room and kitchen like he was gathering information about my house, about me.
I stepped into his line of sight. “What the hell do you want?” Anger made my muscles stiff. He might be using this poor bastard’s body, but if he didn’t stop his spying, I might do something stupid, like kick his face in.
The soulless man bared his teeth. “At last, an intelligent question.” He lifted his hands and clapped. The movement was stiff and mechanical, reminding me of a manikin. Then his arms dropped to his sides again. “I was beginning to lose hope for you. I thought we’d never get there. You are, after all, just a Hunter. You track and kill. That’s the entirety of your skills. Isn’t that right?”
“You’ve got five seconds before I smack you unconscious. Better make it count.” I wasn’t going to stand here and let this necromancer insult me in my own home. He was creepy, but I could still kick his ass without any weapons. I still had my killer looks.
I cocked an eyebrow at him. “Oh… I know… You want me.” I smiled, showing a slip of teeth. “I get it. If I were you, I’d want me too.”
The man smiled, pulling his lips over his gums. “You stole something of mine, and now I want it back,” said the necromancer, his yellow eyes rolling over me.
“Or what?” I challenged and pressed my hands on my hips. “You’re going to kill me with your bad breath? You don’t scare me, little puppet.” In my peripheral vision, I could see Gareth was nearly at his coat, but I didn’t want the necromancer to say night-night just yet. I needed more information.
“You cannot win this, Rowyn,” warned the necromancer. His tone was dry yet somehow filled with venomous undertones.
“Yes, I can.” I had no idea what we were talking about. When in doubt, go with a know-it-all attitude.
The soulless man cocked his head as fury wrinkled his brow. “Give back what you stole, or you and everyone you know will die.”
I rolled my eyes. “Like I haven’t heard that one before.”
“This is your last chance.”
Savage fury made its way into my gut and stayed there. “Nice try. I’m not afraid of you. And there’s no way in hell I’m going to return these people so you can abuse them. Like you’re doing to this poor bastard. You’re sick. And if anyone’s going to die… that’ll be you.”
The soulless man’s yellow eyes fixed on me. “Soon, you will see.”
“All I see is a coward,” I said, and Gareth’s attention snapped to mine. I could see him moving his lips at me, but I kept my gaze on the soulless man. “You’re not that strong. Are you? You’re afraid. You hide behind this man because you’re afraid.”
“You,” said the necromancer. “Are a mindless Hunter. You have no power.”
“And you do?” Of course he did, but I wanted to piss him off. It seemed to be working.
The yellow-eyed man twitched and spread his arms again. “Controlling of the mind is the greatest power—a skill you cannot comprehend with your mindless Hunter brain.”
“Okay then.” Since we were on a roll, might as well keep him talking. “If I’m so clueless, how about you tell me how you removed their souls. With a spell?” I searched his face for any indication I was on the right track. “A curse? A ritual? Did you use some sort of weapon?”
Gareth’s hands dripped with turquoise elf dust as he made his way toward the soulless man as silently as a baal demon. You go, elf.
The soulless man spun his head around, seemingly having eyes in the back of his head. He glanced at the elf and then turned and focused on me again. “All of you will die. And in death, I will find you.”
I frowned. “I’m sorry, what? I don’t speak dumbass.”
The soulless man reached up and grabbed his head—
In a blur Gareth flung the turquoise dust on the man.
But it was too late.
There was a horrifying crunch as the soulless man snapped his neck and crumbled to the floor.
CHAPTER 13
We sprinted across the parking lot of Saint Mary’s Abbey with Tyrius on my heels and Gareth next to me.
The building was of a modest size and built in the Romanesque and Byzantine architectural styles. The perfectly balanced design was crowned with three domes raised on stone pillars. Warm yellow light leaked from above the many windows and doors, illuminating the abbey like a precious jewel. It was huge, the size of a four-story hospital. It was an architectural beauty, but I wasn’t here to admire the view.
When the necromancer had said I’d be sorry, I never expected it to be so soon.
Minutes after he’d snapped the neck of his own subjugate, I got a phone call from a frantic Father Thomas. Apparently the other soulless people had broken free from whatever confinement the priests had put them in and were running all over the abbey attacking priests, monks, and some nuns.
I’d called Layla and left her a message. It would take her at least an hour to drive north to Thornville. Gareth and I were closer.
After picking up Tyrius, we piled into Gareth’s infamous 1970 Ford F100 light blue pickup truck and sped toward the abbey.
There was no time to do anything about the dead guy in my living room. I’d deal with him later.
My thighs burned by the time we reached the entrance, which was a pair of wooden, nine-foot-high doors.
Tyrius galloped past me, dipped his head, sniffed the doors, and said, “Clear!” as he bounced back.
I hit the door with my shoulder because I hadn’t been able to stop my forward momentum. I winced and then turned the handle and jerked inside.
We hurried into a large entryway the size of my dining room and living room combined. A giant, double staircase led to the upper levels, flanked by doors and hallways that stretched in both directions. The furnishings were few, but they were exquisitely crafted of polished wood and gleamed in the light. Four large chairs of deep, polished wood and rich brown leather sat in the foyer.
It reminded me of Father Thomas’s church. It was surprisingly well-lit with large chandeliers and sconces lining the walls, which were a mix of stone, drywall, and wood beams. The place was huge. It would take a day or so for a complete tour. Again, no time to play the tourist.
Tyrius whistled. “Nice crib. The kids would love to play hide and seek in here. Might burn a few rugs and drapes, but all in good fun.”
“Where to?” asked Gareth. His eyes shone dark and sexy under his fedora, and his long black coat draped over his wide shoulders, spilling with little bursts of multicolored elf dust.
“I have no idea. I’ve never been in this place before.” I looked past Gareth to the endless hallways and rooms. “Father Thomas was supposed to meet us at the entrance.” The fact that the priest wasn’t here didn’t settle well with me.
“You think something happened to him?” asked Tyrius, his ears low on his head, pulling the thoughts right out of my head.
I didn’t want to have to think about that. The necromancer had been pissed at us for taking his subjugates. And now, he might have killed Father Thomas for revenge. Or just because he could.
A second later, what sounded like the screams of a gang of rabid animals filled the air.
I gave the elf a look and jerked out my soul blade. “Follow the screaming.”
And we did.
The three of us raced across the stone floor, my heart about to burst out of my ribcage as I pushed my thighs as hard as I could, slipping now and then on the polished floor.
Tyrius sprinted ahead of us in a blur of beige and black, like a miniature cheetah. He might be small, but the Siamese cat was like Roadrunner on steroids.
