Soul Conquered (12 page)

Noah

Whatever that bastard did to
Keira, he’s going to pay. I swear it. If he thinks I’m going to be his minion,
he can shove it up his ass. But I’m playing it smart. I’m going to beat him at
his own game. I’m done being fucked over.

My parents did it. My so-called friends did it. I will
not let it happen again.

I slouch back against the leather seat in my father’s
Beamer. It’s been a long time since I’ve been in the car with them. The last
time was Grace’s funeral, before I knew all about the afterlife, when I was
still upset and shocked at her sudden death. Then our parents made it crystal
clear which child they really cared about by treating me like I was the dead
one.

They’re quiet, which is fine with me. I’d rather plot
my revenge on Lucifer than have to listen to some fake chitchat anyway. We’re
headed for downtown Seattle—somewhere near the waterfront from the looks of it.
Must be some fancy therapist to have scored an expensive office like this. I’m
not surprised. Nothing but the best when it’s all about Gracie.

I wince, picturing the last time I saw Grace. We may
have our differences, and she may be a stuck-up, self-aggrandizing snob, but
she’s still my sister, and she never actually hurt me out of spite. I guess I
know that much. Lucifer was wrong to think I’d enjoy watching him humiliate
her. I just wanted her out of my life, not tortured and in it.

We park, and my mother attempts to make a light
comment about the weather, which dies on the wind. Yes, it’s overcast but not
raining yet. Great convo, Mom. I can really tell how much you care about me.

We trek upstairs to a swank office with a giant view
of the water, just like I predicted. It’s a female therapist: a lady in her
fifties with dyed blond hair and small, plastic glasses. We make nice with
introductions. She asks some questions that I tune out while my parents talk
and weep, then she asks Dad and I to leave. She wants time alone with each of
us.

Great. That means I’m stuck with Dad for at least
twenty minutes.

I plug in my earbuds, indicating I don’t feel like
trying to talk, and stretch out my legs. I’m pretty intent on my fingernails,
which I’ve bitten down to stubs, when I get that feeling someone’s watching me.
I glance up, figuring Dad doesn’t get the hint, only to find Grace staring at
me with her big brown eyes. Only…they’re different. It isn’t the faint tinge of
red around the irises—that was there last time I saw her. It’s the dark
sunken skin around them.

I jerk up in my seat, but Grace’s gaze darts over to
Dad, who leans back in his own chair, eyes shut. She rises and leaves the
waiting room. This time I’m not furious at her presence. Maybe I’m getting used
to her. I’m curious as to why she’s here. So I mumble something about using the
restroom and follow her out into the hall.

“Grace?” I call when I see no sign of her in either
direction.

“I’m here,” she answers after a pause long enough to
make me doubt my sanity. She’s propped open the door to some tax consultant’s
office.

I follow her into the empty office. I guess it’s
off-season for this guy. I stop just past the threshold and wait.

We stare at each other for awhile before she speaks.
“You aren’t going to send me away again?” she asks with some edge.

“That depends. You going to start lecturing me?”

Her shoulders droop, and she deflates like a balloon, shaking
her head. “I’m not going to try and make you something you’re not. Maybe I’m
nuts. I don’t know. Maybe Lucifer’s finally gotten to me. But I do want you to
know that I don’t blame you. I did this to myself. I get it. And I’m about to
get it even more when I leave you.” She laughs at some private joke, but it
doesn’t sound very funny. “Anyway, I just have a question for you. All I want
is a truthful answer. Can you do that for me? For old time’s sake?”

I cock my head, purposely not answering. That, dear
sister, depends on the question.

She sighs, nodding. “Well, I’ll ask anyhow. Is this
really what makes you happy? Being the Antichrist? Following Lucifer?”

I can tell she’s trying not to let her emotions show.
“It seems you’ve been misinformed,” I say, stuffing my hands in my pockets. “I
don’t follow Lucifer. I’m his hand on Earth. I am his
equal
.” I know
full well he’s listening, and I’m pretty sure I just pissed him off.

Sure enough, the lights flicker, and thunder shakes
the foundation of the building. Grace squeals and falls into one of the empty
seats. I frown. She never did “get” me. I’m not trying to be a dick to her. I’m
talking directly to Lucifer.

“See?” I say, undeterred. “He doesn’t like it because
it’s true.”

“Why are Mom and Dad here?” Grace asks in a small
voice. A voice much more like her old, patronizing tone, the one she always
used when she expected me to confess some wrong I’d committed, like breaking
the dining room light when I was seven. Her presence is starting to annoy me
again.

“Therapy. They need to get over you. I’m just along
for the ride since apparently I’ll never actually be rid of you.”

Lucifer appears next to Grace. He snaps his fingers and
she falls to her knees from the chair, apparently out of pain and not
obedience.

“Cut it out,” I say.

Lucifer’s eyes narrow, and Grace remains on the floor,
gasping for breath. “This is none of your concern. You’ve made it clear you
don’t want her. I will do what I want with her.” Lucifer hisses at me, sounding
remarkably like a snake, and yanks her up by her hair.

If he’s trying to throw me off balance, it’s working.
I grind my teeth together and clench my fists in my pockets.
Stay cool.
That’s how you win.

“I have an appointment.” I turn around and step
outside, where I catch the door just before it closes and press my ear to it.

Lucifer’s rage is focused on Grace, so I know he isn’t
paying attention to my whereabouts. He can’t take it out on me, anyway. My
stomach sinks, but I scold myself to toughen up.

“I have a new assignment for you, Gracie.”

“I thought you were going to punish me now,” she says
without much emotion.

“Who says I’m not?” Lucifer cackles. “Remember your
friend? Rhett? His real name is Corbin Treymark, and he’s your next target.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Be yourself. You’re good at putting nice young men
over the edge.”

I nearly yelp when my mother puts her hand on my
shoulder.

“Noah? There you are. Dr. Morris is waiting for you.
It’s your turn. Are you okay?” Her eyes narrow in concern. She hasn’t looked at
me like that in years. Resentment wars with sorrow inside of me.
Why now?
I want to scream.

“If you thought I was, you wouldn’t have brought me
here.” I force a grin and brush past her into the office.

The therapist waits, cleaning the lenses on her
glasses. “You aren’t going to fix me,” I offer, sinking into the chair. “But I
guess you get paid either way.”

“I’m not here to fix you, Noah. I’m here to help you,
and my time is worth money, so I should at least try.”

“Mine is, too. But you aren’t paying me.” I fold my
arms across my chest and sit.

“You aren’t here because of me,” she says. “You’re
here for your parents who are concerned about you, Noah.”

I laugh.

“You don’t believe that? Then why would they bring you
here?” She leans forward over her enormous desk and stares me down.

“I don’t know. Maybe they think it’s what they’re
supposed to do. It took them long enough to remember I exist.”

She stares at me.

“It’s been almost a year since the accident, and
they’ve barely said a word to me since then.”

“And have you said anything to them?” she asks in an infuriatingly
reasonable voice.

“I’m the kid. They’re the parents.”

“They’re human. Losing a child is an unbearable loss I
hope you never experience. I’m not minimizing what you’ve been through, but I’m
wondering if you’ve bothered to consider what they have? I’ve dealt with
selfish teenagers before, but according to your school records, you’re an
exemplary student. Graduating early? I’m surprised to find you here with a chip
on your shoulder.”

Good grades? Oh. Lucifer did that. “I’m smart. So
what? Does that mean I’m supposed to be an emotional robot? Or let everyone
walk all over me?”

She taps a long, fake fingernail on the desk. “Do you
have a girlfriend, Noah? Or boyfriend? What do you do in your free time?”

“Her name’s Keira,” I say.

She smiles. “Your parents have no idea she even
exists, you know. I think you should introduce them. You may be surprised at
the outcome. It’ll be good for you to be open with them, and it’ll be good for
them to see that you’re moving on past Grace’s death.”

I wonder what would happen if I blurt out what I
really am and all that I’ve seen and done. She’d probably try and lock me up,
but Lucifer would get me out. He’d have to. I consider it just to wipe that
smug look off her face.

“I guess it would be pretty interesting to see their
reaction if I introduced them to Keira,” I say instead.

“Give them a chance. They may be more interested in
your life than you give them credit for. In any case, that’s all the time we
have for today. I prescribe time together as a family. An hour a day—dinner,
at least. And I expect a full report this time next week.” She starts tapping
at her laptop keyboard in dismissal.

“Wait a second. I never agreed—” I start.

“You’re a minor, Noah Howard. You don’t get a say in
whether you come here or not. I will see you next week with your parents, and I
will ask them what they think of Karen.”

“Keira.” My vision nearly turns red, and I notice I’m
trembling.

She smiles and repeats the name, then goes back to her
keyboard.

I wonder how Lucifer would feel about me committing
another murder.

Grace

I’ve never been so frightened
in my afterlife, and that includes being kidnapped and nearly tortured by a
psychopath named Camden. Nothing’s actually happened to me yet, but I’m not sure
why—and that’s exactly what makes me uneasy. I know whatever Lucifer has
in store is going to be the worst thing I’ve experienced yet, which means it’s
got to be pretty bad.

Rhett’s real name is Corbin, but I’m not supposed to
know that. The name won’t help me find him now, anyway—all I have to go
on is that he’s in the same hotel. Or at least I hope he is, since he was
gambling there the other day. He’s not the only one I have to worry about,
though. My first determination is to avoid Randy and that whole debacle at all
costs.

Lucifer deposited me back at the hotel in the
restaurant overlooking the tiger’s enclosure. I’m dressed in a tiny little
skirt and halter-top. He seems to like me in the Daisy Mae look. I pick at a
sandwich and tea, but Corbin never shows, so I walk around the entire hotel and
grounds.

Still nothing.

Maybe Lucifer’s setting me up so I won’t find him and
he can punish me for that, too? That doesn’t seem like his style, though, so I
approach the front desk and glamour the receptionist.

“Corbin Treymark. What’s his room?” I whisper. She
immediately checks the computer.

“There is no Mr. Treymark registered.”

I think for a moment. “Try Rhett Butler.”

She types again. “Room 953.”

“Give me a key.”

I slip the card in my bra and head for the glass
elevator. I repeatedly press the gold-colored button for what feels like an
eternity until the lavish doors open and I nearly run headfirst into Randy, who
doesn’t make eye contact.

“Excuse me,” I say.

He holds the door for me without a word, then lets it
slide shut. Did he recognize me? Is he angry? Hurt? By the time I get to the
ninth floor, I’m both embarrassed and depressed. But on the plus side, I’m not
nearly as edgy as I felt downstairs.

Corbin’s room is the last one down the hall—a
private suite. It’s probably not as nice as our penthouse, but it can’t be too
shabby, either. I guess the man has some money. Though I should have figured,
having seen him at the high rollers’ table.

Despite the
DO NOT DISTURB
sign, I knock.

Nothing.

So I take out the keycard and glance around before
letting myself inside.

The sitting room is exactly as I’d expected: TV, sofa,
minibar, small kitchenette. But what I see in the master bedroom sets my pulse
racing.

The floor, bed, desk, and walls are covered with
printed photos. At first I think it’s me, but then I realize the girl is
shorter and a bit heavier, with blue eyes. Still, the resemblance is uncanny.
This was no coincidence. Lucifer sent me here for a reason.

I begin searching frantically, though I’m not sure for
what. At least half the pictures are defaced; the girl’s eyes blacked out with
marker or cut with precision by a knife or scissors. Finally, my eyes rest on
the one photo in the center of the bed. It’s the girl in a wedding dress with
another man.

Both of their eyes are covered with black
X
s,
and their bodies are slashed innumerable times so that the picture is
practically in shreds.

Shit.

I turn to leave the room when something catches my eye
on the corner of the desk. This time, the girl in the picture looks slightly
different. She’s wearing a flesh-colored gown that barely covers her body, very
different from the more conservative look she’s sporting in the other photos.
Only it isn’t her. It’s me. Me from the other night.

And my eyes are missing.

I gasp and run from the room, heart racing as I reach
the hallway. There’s no sign of him. So I run back down the hall and to the
elevator, which takes me down to the front desk, where I don’t hesitate to
glamour the same girl into giving me a room on the first floor. I’d rather run
straight out the door and as far away as possible, but if I try that, Lucifer
will only make it worse. But maybe I can do
something
to make this a
little easier.

I head to the shops lining the main floor where I
charge as many “normal”-looking clothes as I can find to my new room. Then I
find the salon. It’s time for a physical change.

*
* *

By the time I arrive at my
room hours later, I’m sporting a short-cropped, straight haircut dyed brown,
and I’m wearing jeans, a T-shirt, and sneakers. I let myself in and head for the
bathroom to inspect my new look.

A stranger stares back at me. I square my shoulders. I
guess this is the new me.

I decide I need a shower to clean off what I saw
earlier, so I run the hot water and take my time, trying not to think too hard
about Noah or Josh or any of it. When I finish, I wrap a fluffy white towel
around myself and head back out to the bedroom to pick out some of my new
clothes.

Except they’re gone. All the bags are gone. I assume
Lucifer took them until I realize what’s been placed there instead. Photos are
lined up on the bedspread. Pictures of me in the elevator. Me at the tiger’s
enclosure, balanced on the edge near Randy. Me at the front desk a few hours
ago. Me holding the keycard in an envelope with my room number on it.

I’m nearly blind with fear when I remember that, no
matter what, I’m not alive anymore. He can’t kill me if I’m already dead,
right? And I’m a Demon for Heaven’s sake. I nearly laugh with the silliness of
it.

It’s pretty clear why Lucifer sent me to him, though,
and what he meant by “be yourself.” I guess I already blew that by changing my
appearance.

But when I turn around to try and find something to
wear, I find my old self reflected back at me, long golden curls and all. I
touch my head, letting go of the towel, which falls to my feet.

Lucifer must have done this—but I still doubt he
was the one responsible for the pictures.

I’m stooping to pick up my towel when the closet door
swings open and Corbin strides out, a wicked-looking knife in hand. “Don’t
bother, Scarlet. We both know you won’t be needing that.”

Standing slowly, I swallow and long to cover myself,
but know Lucifer well enough by now to realize that as long as I’m
uncomfortable with my body, he’ll force me into these situations. And so I
resist as best I can, standing straight and leaving the towel on the floor.
It’s the only way I have to fight back.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, deciding to play
dumb. “Are these your pictures?”

He winks. “You like to dress for attention, Scarlet.
You got mine. But you’re just like
her
, aren’t you? You prefer that
black man.”

Randy. I swallow hard. I don’t want him dragged into
this. I’ve done him enough damage already.

“He was just a passing fancy,” I say. “I’m actually a
little flattered you went to all this trouble.” I gesture toward the pictures.
“So put the knife down, and we’ll talk.”

“That’s just it,” he says, stalking toward me until
I’m nearly forced onto the bed. “See, I’ve always had these…feelings. I know
they’re wrong, but I’ve always wanted to try them out, these fantasies of mine.
I thought maybe she could change that, but it seems to be my destiny.” He sets
the tip of the knife against my cheek and draws it lightly down to my shoulder.

“What sort of fantasies?” I ask, trying to remain
steady. This guy is a psycho. I doubt stopping that wedding would’ve helped
prevent him trying out these “fantasies” for long. I guess Lucifer wanted it
all to happen faster.

He bites his lip, not even pretending to stare
anywhere but at my chest. “I want to do things to you, Scarlet. I wanted to do
them to her when she chose someone else, but still, I wasn’t sure I could. I
wasn’t sure I was capable until I saw you parading around in those clothes.” He
draws the tip of the knife down farther, running it against the curves of my
body, ending next to my belly. I try not to move, but I can’t seem to quell my trembling.

“I wear the clothes I wear for myself. Not for you.”
Actually, I wear them because Lucifer makes me, but still…

“Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no. You were meant for me.” He
leans forward, breathing the words over my face, and I turn my head, closing my
eyes. The tip of the knife presses into my flesh, pricking me. I flinch as a
drop of blood trickles, hot and fresh, down my hip. “I know it. You were
created to show me the way. You leave broken hearts everywhere. That’s the
truth of what happened to the man you were with. But you don’t have anyone who
truly cares about you in your life, do you, Scarlet?” he asks.

I keep my mouth shut tight. What do I say? 'I know an
Angel, but I can’t call him because I don’t want him to fall from Heaven?' The
thought digs an empty hole in my chest.

“It’s okay. No one will miss you. You’ll always be my
first. It’s perfect.”

It’s the same thing Cam said to me. I feel ill. “You
don’t want to hurt me,” I say, trying glamour. But I know it won’t work. Just
like I know Lucifer’s taken all my Demon powers away again, for this. His
punishment. Layers. I almost laugh. Almost.

“Oh, but I do. I want to hurt you so badly that
I
hurt thinking about it. And it’s all I’ve thought about since last night when I
bought you that drink. I just didn’t know how easy you’d make it for me. I
wouldn’t mind a little challenge, Scarlet.” He leans over me when he whispers
the last sentence, his breath hot on my cheek, and I cringe.

His free hand finds my hair, smoothing it back from my
forehead. “I think I’ll keep some of your hair. It’s so much like hers. You
know?” He flicks his knife so fast, I gasp. He smiles, holding up a lock of
blond curls for me to see. Instinctually, I touch the side of my head.

“This is going to take time. Lots and lots of time,
but we have all the time in the world. I put the
DO NOT DISTURB
sign out for us. Oh, and I
brought tools.” He holds out a finger excitedly, like he wants me to wait while
he shows me a puppy or something.

He pulls a black bag from the closet and tosses it
down on the carpet between us. “I’ve been buying it all bit by bit for years.
Collecting. You know, just in case I ever really got the nerve to do it.”

“You don’t want to. You won’t.” I say it with much
more emphasis than I feel. I know it’s a lost cause. Lucifer knows it, too. He’s
probably munching on a bowl of popcorn somewhere while he watches.

“Put this on the bed,” he says, tossing me a plastic
sheet. I comply, slowly, trying my best to think of something I can do to stop
this. To change it. Change him.

“Now lie down on it.”

As if I’m going to do that. I pretend to faint,
dropping down and grasping the side of the bed. He rushes toward me, and I
spring up, dodging past him toward the door. He catches my ankle, and I go down
hard with a shriek. He drags me back toward him, and the knife slices into the
sole of my foot. His hand muffles the sound of my scream, and he lifts me, one-armed,
onto the bed with some difficulty. But the second he slices into my other foot
and the pain shoots up my leg, I know it’s over. There’s no way I can walk now.
And no one’s coming to help me. Not when Lucifer himself is making this happen.

Corbin mutters angrily at me for bleeding on the
carpet as he rummages in the bag. He pulls out handcuffs, which he uses to cuff
my wrists and ankles to the bedposts.

“Seriously,” I beg. “You don’t have to do this. You
can still change your mind and no one will ever know. I can get you help.”

“You think you’re better than me.” He smiles down at
me, smoothing my hair back again. “That’s why you tempt me with your body but
never mean to let me get anywhere. But now you’re mine. Just mine. You’ll
always be mine. No more screaming.”

He stuffs some kind of material in my mouth and ties
something else around it, preventing me from making a sound louder than muffled
grunts.

“This is exactly how I pictured it.” He sucks in his
bottom lip with a look of pure ecstasy as he runs the tip of the knife up and
down my body. Over my legs, my arms, my stomach. Every inch of me, never quite
pressing hard enough to draw more blood. I tremble but can’t go anywhere.

“Please,” I try to beg, but I can’t even do that. I’m
basically just a plaything now. A Demon sent by the Devil for Corbin to slice
up and practice on so he won’t hesitate on his first real human.

“First I have to decide how I’m going to take your
eyes. They’re the things that help you lead other men astray.” He presses a
sweaty hand over my eyes. I keep them closed tight, but in my mind I see all
those photos with the eyes blackened or cut out. I feel the tip of his knife on
top of my eyelid. I cry and tremble. This is even worse than the 'pin cushion'
torture chamber Cam tried to close on me. The anticipation of what Corbin’s about
to do to me makes me want to pass out. I try to roll my head to the side, but
he grabs my face and holds it steady, fingers cutting painfully into my jaw.