Soulless (Maiden of Time Book 2) (16 page)

Thirty-Two

Warfare

Kiren pulled his horse to a halt as Miles doubled over, holding his head.

Miles screamed.

Kiren’s horse stamped backward. The buildings of Wilhamshire echoed the lad’s shriek, and dozens of voices rasped in harmony, mimicking his cry. Kiren spun, searching for the hidden creatures. They were surrounded, but not boxed in.

Miles glared at the horizon where the sun had just disappeared. No moon graced the cloudless heavens—the third night of lunar absence.

Kiren’s heart stopped. It occasionally happened, an additional night of continued horror. He’d not planned for this. How many of his friends had he sent directly into danger’s path while seeking out his missing necklace?

Miles tore at his hair. “Get away! They can see you.” His eyes turned up, a dim glow at the center. He licked his lips.

Kiren whipped his horse and it bolted.

Another scream assaulted his ears, a child’s. He turned his beast that direction and kicked hard. The animal lurched between two buildings.

A black-robed creature pulled a boy out a window by his collar. Kiren charged straight into the thing, bowling it over. Bones crunched beneath the horses’ hooves as Kiren caught the lad.

William
.

The wail of a woman burst through the same building. He rounded the back, leapt off his beast, and kicked the door open. Shrouded wraiths tugged at Phoebe Ann, William’s mother.

Kiren tore a dagger out of his belt and launched himself forward. He slashed the blade across one creature’s throat, and it burst into black mist. Without looking, he jabbed the weapon into the other sufferer’s gut and grabbed Phoebe’s hand, dragging her through the blinding mist, her breathing ragged.

Kiren’s stallion pranced uneasily at the back door, William holding it fast. A quick assessment told him the beast could not handle their combined weight. The Soulless would remain between states for but a few moments, no time at all to escape on foot.

He hefted Phoebe into the saddle behind her son, wrapped her hand around his dagger, and slapped the horse. “To the inn!” he shouted after them. They would be safe there—if Mae could keep the Soulless at a distance. She’d never failed thus far.

Kiren pulled a hand through his hair. Phoebe knew the secrets of keeping herself and family hidden from these enemies. How had they found her? Or were they breaking into house after house now that he couldn’t stop them?

Kiren’s blood froze.

Miles
.

The young man knew nearly every Passionate on the registry—where they lived, what their weaknesses were—and the Soulless were in his head!

He bolted for the Thompson house, hurdling a discarded wheelbarrow, pulling himself up over a fence, two streets over, one block up...

He stopped.

Firelight danced in the second story window, smoke curling heavenward. Kiren sprinted for the building, sending up a prayer.

A man tumbled down the front step and landed on his side.

“Robert?” Kiren called.

The man crawled up onto his knees. Ash darkened one side of his face a stark contrast to his blond shock of hair, a knife clasped in his hand. “Thank the Lord!”

“Do not thank him yet. I cannot help you this night.” Kiren lifted the man to his feet while Robert’s face twisted in confusion. “You lit them on fire?”

“That I did.”

“Then fly, to the inn.” He pushed Robert toward the town’s limits.

The man shook his head. “But you are here.”

“And I cannot protect you. Flee!”

Robert sprinted for the woods. Kiren turned back the way he’d come. If the Soulless were in Miles’s head, then he had only one choice. He sprinted his fastest.

Kiren skidded to a halt in the town square—where he’d left the lad.

Miles cringed into the neck of his steed, burying his face. The animal whinnied, prancing uneasily. Four wraiths circled in. Kiren glanced about the square for ideas. Hesitate a second too long and they would take the boy.

He’d never let that happen.

Kneeling, he placed a hand to the hard-packed road, searching below the surface. There! A set of trampled roots.

He dashed forward. The creatures whirled in unison, Miles’s head lifting at the same instant. Kiren dropped to his knees, glided to a stop, and slammed his palm against the ground, hurling energy downward.

The shrouded figures stood immobile.

One hissed.

They broke out of their trance, rushing him in a flurry of darkness.

Vines broke through the dirt. They looped around the creatures’ feet, pulling them to a halt. Kiren leapt up and caught the dagger sheathed at Miles’s hip. He spun and slashed. Black haze blinded him.

He vaulted onto Miles’s horse and seized the reins.

The boy’s head shook. “Please, you have to—!”

He punched Miles in the temple. The lad crumpled and Kiren looped an arm around him, kicking the horse and aiming away from the city.

The only way to stop the Soulless from seeing was to keep Miles unconscious, much as it pained him.

Morning was too welcome. Kiren leaned back against a tree, finally able to relax. Miles’s horse had been lost in the course of the night, but it would find its way to the inn. Of that he was certain. The last time he’d knocked Miles out, he had to carry him over one shoulder and run for a new location, hoping the Soulless wouldn’t recognize the terrain Miles had briefly glimpsed. He prayed Phoebe and William made it to safety, and Robert—he was a fighter.

“You worry loudly, old man.” Miles shifted onto his elbows.

Kiren pulled his thoughts inward, lifting his usual barrier. “How many did they catch?”

“Not sure.” Miles rubbed at the back of his neck, grunted, and settled back down. “My head...”

“Sorry.” He rested a hand over Miles’s temple and focused on healing the multiple bruises.

Miles breathed easier. “I glimpsed Joseph Gregory—I think they, well, I think he’s one of them now. And I’m pretty certain they took Margaret Shaw and Regin.”

Kiren’s head swirled, sickness building in his throat. “Regin?”

Miles covered his face. “My memories are... Edward should have taken them—”

Kiren placed a hand on his shoulder. “You are you because of what you know, and I’ll not take that away. We need you in the war.”
Or all is lost
. Kiren didn’t say the words, but they echoed through his soul. Until he had the medallion back, every person he knew and loved was in danger, and Miles was the key to predicting their enemies.

All of them.

Thirty-Three

Brainwashing

Alexia landed against the earthen wall, heart hammering against her ribs. She needed her sword. Where was her sword?

“To what do we owe the pleasure?” John asked casually.

Her gaze bounced to the ladder at his back. Again she wished she wasn’t standing on scorched earth or that she had a weapon. Nothing on the bed, the table, Sarah, or the rocking chair. She leapt forward and seized the gaslight, holding it in front of her.

John stalked forward. She backed away. Her legs hit the rocking chair and she toppled into it. He strode past, digging a handkerchief from his pocket. He unwrapped a heavy key while keeping the fabric between his fingers and the dull metal.

Metal—poison to them—and yet Sarah was covered in it. Did it burn her as it did the Passionate and Soulless? Alexia only imagine her aunt’s agony, having never experienced the burn of metal herself.  

The exit. She could escape while his back was turned, but with Sarah here?

The key clattered into Sarah’s irons as John wrapped an arm around her.

Alexia blinked in confusion. He’d come to rescue Sarah? But then, who had locked her up?

Go or stay? Could she ever abandon her sister again?

“The temptation grew too much?” John questioned softly, freeing the manacles from Sarah’s arms and supporting her weight as her knees bent limply. Alexia was not meant to hear it, but the phrase stopped her debate. She set the oil lamp down.

“Better to be safe,” Sarah replied.

John rubbed a gentle hand over her aunt’s wrists, and lifted them to his lips. Alexia tensed as he kissed the discolored skin. “You are far wiser than any mate I could have hoped for.”

Sarah embraced him.

Alexia stared. Her aunt loved him—even after all he’d done to her? And how could he even pretend to care for a woman he’d so selfishly damned to this eternal state of misery?

Her heart pinched as she recalled those last weeks together before she’d left Sarah’s care—how frequently John had called, how sweetly he spoke to and of Sarah, how he’d vowed his deepest adoration and love for her, promising to marry her.

And he had.

“How is he?” John whispered, placing a hand over Sarah’s center.

“Quiet today.”

Alexia looked again. Sarah was wide about the middle, nearly twice her normal girth, but her near-sister couldn’t possibly be...could she? How could Alexia have missed that detail?

John bent and leaned an ear to Sarah’s belly. “He is going to be a strong one.”

Alexia covered her mouth and pushed out of the seat. Sarah looked up. She smiled.

“Is that possible?” Alexia wondered.

“Mmm,” John hummed. “Possible indeed.”

Alexia glared at him. How dare he do this to Sarah? Was it not enough that he’d destroyed her—must he also put her through the torture of childbirth? And for what? To bring a monstrosity into the world?

But then, Sarah had not been Soulless long. She must have been in this fragile state before John destroyed her.

That her sister could bear the thought of raising a child turned her stomach—after all they’d experienced: ruined marriages, jealous lovers, children birthed out of wedlock, lives fragmented around the notion of family. John must have forced her. That could be the only explanation.

But then, had she not been considering the same idea just yesterday morning? Bearing Kiren’s baby?

She glared at John. “Will the babe be Soulless or Passionate?”

He straightened. “He possesses the pulse of one untainted.”

Alexia crossed her arms, stepping backward as he rose to his full height. “What do you want with a Passionate child?”

He scowled. “I want to be a father again, Alexia.”

She shook her head. He wanted something else. This had to be another attempt at recovering himself, at returning to a state of health. Somehow this little one figured into his twisted plan—as Sarah had before he’d ruined her.

She had to stop this, somehow, and find a way to save the infant. Where was Kiren now when she needed him, when his wisdom would calmly assure her how to act?

Sarah rubbed a hand over her belly and settled into the rocking chair. “He is going to be beautiful.”

Alexia whirled and stalked toward the ladder. There was nothing she could do for Sarah if she was so deluded as to believe all would be well. Her aunt couldn’t raise a Passionate child. She could barely stand to be in Alexia’s presence—let alone the presence of a powerless infant.

Dual growls reverberated about the room.

Alexia froze. Hair on the back of her neck stood on end.

The two Soulless stood at her back watching her flee a tiny confinement with only one escape. Who cared that they couldn’t
drain
her on scorched earth—it would only take John grabbing her too tightly around the neck or throwing her down with enough force to break her. What could she do, turn around and profess she was not trying to flee them?

The sword. She needed her sword.

Alexia leapt up the ladder. Heavy footfalls echoed after her. She squeaked, fingers slipping as she lunged, skipping rungs.

“Stop!” John roared.

All his benign behavior had been a show. He would rather consume her than love her like a niece!

The ladder shook. She gripped tighter, cursing her sweaty palms. Wood vibrated beneath her fingers, groaning as he mounted below her. 

Faster.

The dim outline of light above beckoned. She reached for it with every handhold, deafened to all but the rasp of her pursuer’s loud breathing.

The ladder moaned and bowed. She gasped and glanced back. Sarah ascended below John, two sets of bleeding bright eyes in the darkness. Alexia missed her next handhold and reached again. John’s fingers skimmed her heel. She yanked both feet up to the rung under her fingers and pushed up, grasping at earthen floors.

Indistinct shelves lined a corridor to safety.

Something brushed her heel. She jerked a knee up under her and lunged forward. She jolted to a halt, landing on her face. He had her hem! She rolled, kicking at his hand. He rose out of the hole, eyes open in a ravenous red.

John stood over her, a hunkering silhouette of darkness.

She kicked his knee. He crumpled backward.

Alexia threw the kitchen hatch open wide, launching herself at the backdoor before her pursuer rose from the cellar.

The barn wasn’t far.

She sprinted into the burgeoning night, dancing around thorns and twigs. White blossoms crumpled underfoot as she crossed the safety line.

Warmth burst inside her, a natural geyser of inner fire that had been iced. She stumbled from shock. Her palms smacked into the weeds, knees thudding in unison.

Power coursed through her limbs, pulsating, hungry to escape, waiting to be called. She lifted a hand and examined her arm. Did she imagine it, or did she actually glow, so saturated by the excess of energy?

A shiver of strength shot up from her toes, tickling the skin as it traveled.

What was happening to her?

A huff.

She pulled her feet under her and twisted.

John stood in the doorway, arms splayed, frozen. She smirked at him. Let him come now, see who fared better.

He shook his head, eyes wide, and backed into the darkness.

Coward.

A high-pitched scream tore the wind.

She spun around, turned toward the stables. Her feet were moving before she’d given the command. The building’s gray-brown walls reared up and she circled to the doors. The breeze died. A chill launched up her arms, raising hairs.

Oh no.

The sky—there was no moon. It was not supposed to be like this. They had passed two moonless evenings already! The cycle should be ended.

A ring of black shrouds blocked the barn’s exit, six of them, and an unattractive girl crouched in front of the doors, covering her head—a Passionate child.

Alexia’s heart clenched.

The world stopped.

Ice solidified in the air. She took a step. Her dress weighed like it was made of shale, the muscles at the back of her neck tensing with strain.

Kiren was not here to save anyone. They knew. They all knew, and this child was outside the ring of safety.

Frustration fired through her gut. She might be able to freeze time, but what good did that accomplish? As much as she wanted to rescue the girl, it was impossible to move anything but herself in this state. By the time she retrieved the weapon waiting beyond the doors, the girl would be lost. The best she could do was place herself between the wraiths and their prey—and risk not only her life, but Kiren’s as well.

Or she could run for help. She turned back to the inn.

And once she crossed back onto scorched earth, what then? Time would resume its natural progression, and she would be far too late to assist. What good was her gift if she couldn’t use it to save people?

But maybe she could.

Her nails dug into her palms. The muscles in her shoulders tightened, her strength draining by the second. It only took one touch. A single fingertip grazing her skin on a moonless night would forever taint and damn her to a Soulless existence—so she’d have to be careful.

She sucked ice into her lungs and shimmied between the immobile demons, placing herself next to the child. Carefully, she released the tension in her muscles, a little at a time, but not completely.

The Soulless held their stances, shocked by her sudden appearance. She must look like a blur to them. The thought made her grin. She grabbed the girl, tugging her toward the break in the line, keeping time slowed.

The nearest wraith reached for them, his fingers shedding slow wisps of ebony, like obsidian flames. Alexia shoved the girl’s head away from its touch, saving her by an inch.

The others surged forward. She pulled the girl toward them, dodging around an extended arm. One bounded over top of them. She stilled time further and hurried beneath the ominous blackness, a death bird, tugging the child away and flattening her to the ground as the enemy’s body descended. The creature’s feet slammed into the earth only a second after the girl vacated it.

Black bodies walled them in. She slipped between them, twisting to avoid their touch like angling through a real-world jigsaw puzzle. The passages between wraiths narrowed, but with the child suspended in mid-air, she could manipulate the girl’s every move, shaping her safely through the pitch.

Her head pulsed.

Panting heavily, she caught a glimpse of the inn between the last two demons. They were going to make it!

Alexia dodged around them, heart soaring. She pulled the girl after her, fixed on the inn, and was jerked backward.

Half-decayed fingers wrapped around the child’s skirt.

Alexia’s brain screamed as she yanked time completely to a halt. She stepped back through the ice-air and gripped the solid skirt, right above where the Soulless had it, ready to tear the material free as soon as it was pliable. She released the seconds, her head heavy as a brick, and yanked the fabric free from the enemy’s grasp.

Creatures surged forward. Darkness swallowed them. Alexia tumbled to the ground as wraiths converged, lifting the girl out of her grasp.

Forcing the world to stop, Alexia crawled forward on her elbows and knees.

This could not be happening. She could still make it right. It wasn’t too late!

One of the wraiths had wrapped its bony hand around the child’s wrist.