The Devil's Soldier (24 page)

37

Alarica adjusted her position on the couch and hit the refresh button on her cell phone. The video of her destroying a movie theater played again. The police tried to stop her, but she stopped them instead. That had been an especially bloody day. She smiled to herself, remembering how much fun she'd had. That was two days ago, though, and already she was itching for more.

She glanced up at Boaz. He was sitting on the sofa, staring at the screen on his laptop. The wolf, Hunwald, was stretched out next to him, eyes closed. She was about to ask Boaz when she could go out again, but just then agents from the DHRD showed up on the screen, and she couldn't look away.

This time, the agents had sent in three vampires to combat her and a witch she didn't recognize.
Witch
was a strong word. The poor girl barely knew how to control fire.

This was the fourth event Boaz had sent her on since her nightclub appearance almost two weeks ago. Every time she had dramatically changed her appearance so the public would think that there were lots of Supernaturals who shared a passion for blood lust. People were scared. Alarica could taste their fear wherever she went, and the flavor was addictive.

"It's done," Boaz said.

Alarica hit pause on the video. On the screen, she was in the middle of slicing off a vampire’s head with a stop sign she'd ripped from a metal pole.

"What's done?" she asked.

"The White House released a new statement. It's ordering all Supernaturals to register with the DHRD. If they don't within thirty days, the DHRD has an automatic kill order."

"And what exactly does
register
mean?"

Boaz stood, but Hunwald continued to sleep. "It means that if you are a Supernatural, they are going to put an electronic chip into the back of your hand that will tell the DHRD what type of Supernatural you are, what abilities you have, and track your location."

He walked behind her and rubbed her shoulders.

"No one's putting anything inside of me," she grumbled.

Boaz leaned down and whispered in her ear, his breath warm. "Are you sure about that?"

She smiled and stood up to the side of her chair. Boaz spun her around and brought her to his chest. She gasped at the suddenness of it, and grinned again. Surprisingly, she'd had a good time with him the last couple of weeks. He had only ordered her to do one thing, and had let her come and go as she pleased as long as she changed her appearance. The only command he insisted upon was that she look like Eve whenever they were together. This pissed her off immensely.

"How long are you going to keep him alive?" Boaz asked.

She glanced over her shoulder at Lucien. He was lying on his back, strapped to a narrow, wooden table. Beneath him was a large, crumpled sheet of plastic. Most of it was painted red with his blood. His eyes were often closed, but Alarica wondered how much he was actually hearing. Not only was he physically restrained, but he was also held fast by magic.

"He makes a great conversation piece," she said.

"For who? You and Liane?"

"Speaking of Liane…" Alarica pulled away from him. "She's getting on my nerves. Why does she need to be here?"

At first it was fun for Alarica to have a fellow witch in the house who shared her desire for all things dark and deadly, but lately Liane had been making comments about how strong she was, and how Alarica owed her something for saving her life when Lucien nearly grabbed the necklace.

First of all, Alarica had everything under control. All Liane did was prevent something a few seconds earlier than Alarica could've done herself. And second, Liane was strong, but
knew
nothing of the ancient dark magic that she and Boaz
knew
. She even suspected Lucien was aware of these same powers, but he
used
the magic in much different ways from her. Pity.

"Liane has been instrumental in my plans," Boaz said. "For now, she stays."

Alarica sighed. "Fine. Where is she, anyway?"

"With Sable."

Alarica pursed her lips. "I wish you would let me kill that woman. Why is Liane with her?"

Boaz chuckled. "You're going to love this."

"What?"

"They are becoming agents for the DHRD. Tom requested them personally."

"Serious?" She thought about it more and smiled. "Maybe I'll get to kill both of them now."

"You'll do no such thing." Boaz sauntered toward Lucien. "As for him, he needs to go. I can't stand looking at him anymore."

Alarica
walked
up next to him and stared down at Lucien's body. Some of the wounds on his bare chest still hadn't healed from her session with him an hour ago. If he was going to survive her torture for much longer, she would have to work on a different part of his body.

Being with Lucien was her favorite part of the day. It was bittersweet for her. She loved to torture him, but hated the part of her that craved to be near him. Sometimes she wondered if Eve's memories of him affected her more than she realized.

"Don't worry. He'll die soon. You did command it after all." But even as she said it, she wondered if she could actually go through with it.

Boaz turned to her. "I did command it, didn't I?"

"Yes, Master," she mocked.

"But you found a loop hole. I didn't give you a timeline." He took hold of her hand and brought it to his lips. His breath was warm against her fingertips. "I know it brings you great pleasure to torture him, as it does me, but it can't go on."

"Boaz—"

"I'll give you until tomorrow, but when the sun sets, you will kill him."

Her body tightened as an invisible force washed over her. There was nothing she could do now. Lucien would be dead within twenty-four hours.

Boaz lowered her hand. "I have to head back to D.C., but I will be here for you shortly after sunset tomorrow. I want you ready and this bloody mess cleaned up. Now kiss me."

Her body jerked to the command, much to her dismay. Her lips pressed against his fiercely, and his arms held her tight. It wasn't a passionate kiss, but one filled with intense power, which was a turn on all on its own. When they kissed like this, she felt invincible.

Boaz pulled away.

"You don't have to command me to do that," she said, breathless.

"I like telling you what to do." He turned and walked away. "See you tomorrow night. Don't be late."

Boaz patted his thigh. Hunwald jumped to attention and followed after Boaz, but not before casting Alarica a dangerous glare. If that mutt wasn't so loyal to Boaz, he might've made a great pet for her.

As soon as she was sure Boaz was gone from the house, she walked to Lucien and studied him. Why didn't she want to kill him? She hated him more than any other creature on the earth, yet the thought of not being near him filled her with dread.

She grabbed an ice pick near his foot and trailed its tip up the length of his body. His eyes flew open; terror filled the spaces.

"Oh, Lucien," she said. "I don't know how I can kill you."

With no regard for her short black dress, she climbed onto the table and straddled him, her bare legs curled up on each side of his cold body. She leaned over, pressing her chest to his, and looked him in the eyes. She tapped the icepick against his temple.

"What's in there that makes me not want to kill you?" She brushed her lips past his. "Maybe it's Eve. Would you like to see her?"

He averted his gaze. The fact that he was ignoring her bugged the hell out of her. But she could fix that.

She thought of Eve, pictured her in her mind. She thought the word
mutatio.
Within a few seconds, the color of her hair changed to a honey blonde. Now all she had to do was fix her expression.

Do what Eve would do.

She lightly touched her lips to his again.

"Lucien," she breathed. "Look at me."

His blood-shot eyes returned to hers and widened. "Eve?"

She smiled and nodded. She even produced some tears. They came so easily.

"I'm here," she whispered. She kissed him again, slowly, deeply. The kiss was so different from Boaz's.

Lucien seemed hesitant at first to return the kiss, but after a few seconds, his mouth became hers.

"I've missed you so much," he said between kisses, his eyes closed.

"Shh—"

She continued to kiss him, enjoying the way his mouth moved over hers. They were a perfect fit. Alarica could see why Eve liked to kiss him so much.

"I'm supposed to kill you soon," she said and kissed him again.

His mouth tightened, and he opened his eyes. They searched hers until he finally turned away.

"Get it over with," he said.

She pressed her hands to his chest and sat up. "You see, that's the thing. I don't want to kill you. You're like an old, ratty blanket that really should be thrown away, but is too comfy to put into the trash."

"You no longer have a choice." His voice was distant. Detached. He closed his eyes again.

"That's where you're wrong. I happen to know someone powerful enough to remove the obedience spell, or whatever it was, that Boaz put on this necklace." She tugged on it. "As if this trinket needed any more magic."

Because Boaz had given her plenty of freedom, she hadn't rushed to get the curse removed. She also knew that Henry would most likely try to fight her. Mentally, she wanted to prepare.

She leaned into him again. "I thought about asking you, but I'm afraid of letting your powers return to what they were. I don't want to lose my temper with you again."

She felt his muscles tighten beneath her. He was angry. Good.

"I should probably go. I'm sure Henry is anxious to hear from me."

At this, his eyes opened.

"That's right," she said. "I'm going to ask Henry to remove the curse in exchange for you."

"You're going to let me go?"

She laughed and swung her legs over him to get off of the table. "Of course not, but Henry won't know that."

With an unexpected surge of energy, Lucien thrashed against his restraints. "One day I'm going to make you disappear!"

Alarica took hold of the icepick and drove the tip into his shoulder. "I would be more concerned for your life than for me. The clock is ticking, Lucien. Let's hope your friend comes through."

38

The steady tick tock of a nearby grandfather clock lulled Lucien in and out of sleep. Occasionally, he heard sounds in the large home: rustling of papers, soft voices, the clicking of heels, but he couldn't put any order to them. Was it night? Day? Because of the all the torture and the magical spell Liane had surrounded him with, not only was his magic dulled, but his vampire senses, too.

At first he had tried to stay alert, but dreams came too easily. Sometimes, he was back in Ireland as a child with his mother sitting on her lap while she sang a lullaby, or there was the one where his father taught him to hunt. There were also dreams of Eve, and he liked these the best. A few times he even dreamed of
Charlie
, who had become the closest thing he had ever had to a best friend. These were the nicer dreams, but there weren't many of those.

Nightmares mostly filled his sleep—the dog his father had killed, the bodies Aiden had tortured, the lives Lucien had taken. So much pain and death.

When Alarica had mentioned having to kill him, it didn't affect him the way he thought it would. He had lived a long life, too long. Only the thought of Eve brought a deep ache to his heart. If Henry saved her, Lucien hoped she would find happiness. Maybe Alarica would let him write a farewell letter to her. He only hoped he would remember to ask. Sometimes it was difficult to tell what was reality and what wasn't.

Like right now. Charlie was near him speaking fast. Something about fighting. Lucien laughed at this dream. He couldn't fight, not when he was tied up, bound by a magical spell, and bleeding. He laughed again.

"Lucien!" Charlie yelled.

Lucien opened his eyes again. Charlie sure looked upset. His face was red, and he was sweating. And then Charlie was gone. Lucien closed his eyes.

Cold water doused his face. He sat up, coughing and gasping for air.

He froze.
He was sitting up!

"Hurry!" Charlie yelled. "We don't have much time."

Lucien blinked. "You're really here."

"And you're really an idiot," Charlie said, but smiled. "Put these on."

Lucien took the pants and leaned over to put his foot through a pant leg, but he was too weak and fell off the table instead. He moaned in both pain and frustration. When was the last time he had eaten?

"You're in bad shape," Charlie said. "Let me help you."

Lucien was too exhausted to care. "What are you doing here?"

"Trying to save you."

Lucien helped the best he could to pull the pants up over his waist. "Where's Alarica?"

"With Henry. Aren't you able to hear them?"

Lucien attempted to focus his senses, but it was as if a great fog surrounded him.

"You're worse off than I thought," Charlie said. "It's like Armageddon in there. We have to hurry. It's almost time."

"Time for what?" Lucien asked.

Charlie met his eyes. "Sunset."

The word stirred a memory inside Lucien, something Alarica had said. "Is that when I'm going to die?"

Charlie helped him to his feet. "You will not die today, but there is something I must tell you."

The wall next to him exploded, knocking them both to the ground. Henry fell through the debris, blood spurting from his mouth.

Alarica stepped through the gaping hole. "Stop focusing on my necklace! You can't have it! Just remove the curse, and I'll give you Lucien."

She stopped then, as if sensing something amiss, and glanced at Lucien and Charlie. Her head snapped
toward
Henry, her eyes blazing.

Lucien closed his eyes tight, attempting to find both strength and magic within him, but there was nothing. It was too soon.

"You tried to trick me?
Me
?" Alarica said, as she mentally lifted a wooden shard from the broken debris and shot it toward Henry.

Henry knocked it away with a wave of his hand seconds before it was to pierce his heart. The shard spun out of control until it crashed through a window. The last of day's light spilled into the room.

Alarica's eyes widened in the orange glow, then narrowed into slits.

"You did this," she said, pointing at Henry. "You could've saved Lucien, but now I'm out of time."

Henry looked at Lucien, panic shadowing his face, as he must've just realized Lucien's condition. Lucien would not be able to stop Alarica.

Henry rose to his feet, his arms rising high with him. He whispered something Lucien couldn't hear, and a great wind stirred the room, picking up everything in its path. The sound was deafening, and made Lucien's head spin. He concentrated again to try and gain some strength, but it was like striking a match over and over with no success.

Charlie was saying something to him, as he began to drag Lucien against a bookcase to avoid getting hit. Over their heads, Henry was blasting Alarica with every item in the room—books flew, lamps shattered, chairs smashed. Alarica blocked them all and sent the items ricocheting the opposite direction. It was like being in the middle of a tornado. Lucien ducked to avoid a spinning world globe.

"Lucien!" Charlie said loudly in his ear to be heard over the tumultuous sounds. "I need to tell you something."

Lucien gripped his arm. "It can wait!"

He looked around searching for something he could use to help Henry, who was trying desperately to get at Alarica. Henry kept glancing toward the window, as was Alarica. The glowing orange hue was quickly turning to black. The least Lucien could do was try to get out of there. He moved to crawl away, but Charlie stopped him.

"Remember how I said I saw your future?" he asked loudly.

Lucien looked up at him, his eyebrows pulled together. Why was Charlie wasting time?

"There is a power between you and Eve that you haven't begun to understand. No matter what happens, you must bring her back. Don't lose her! The whole world depends upon it."

A bone-deep chill cooled Lucien's blood. "Why are you telling me this now?"

Charlie slowly turned toward the window. "It's time."

Just then a flying drawer from a desk hit Charlie in the chest, knocking him back several feet.

"This is on you!" Alarica screamed at Henry. Her body was suddenly being pulled by an invisible force toward Lucien. Her arms were whirling backwards as if she was trying to stop her forward momentum, but she could not stop. A wooden spike-shaped shard flew into her hand.

"No!" Henry yelled. He rushed Alarica, but she shot him with invisible energy, sending him crashing through the already broken window.

Lucien tried to get away, but all he managed to do was stand with his back against the wall. He simply wasn't strong enough yet. All he had left were his words.

"Don't do this, Eve. I know you're in there somewhere. Please! I love you."

Alarica's expression twisted into something ugly and cruel. "Never say those words to me!"

She raised the wooden dagger high above him and brought it down fast. Lucien closed his eyes tight, waiting to feel death's sting, but instead a body crashed into him with a strange gurgling sound. He opened his eyes.

Charlie was pressed against him, his eyes wide and his mouth forming an O. Alarica was behind him, seemingly just as surprised.

"No!" Lucien cried, and he wrapped his arms around Charlie before he slumped to the floor.

Charlie blinked and whispered, "Get the necklace."

Lucien's gaze flickered to Alarica. She was already in the process of removing the dagger in Charlie's back. Lucien clung to Charlie with his left arm, but he shot his right hand forward and tore the necklace from around Alarica's throat. She screamed a great and terrible cry and clawed at her neck before collapsing to the ground unconscious. All the spinning debris and the fierce wind stopped at the same moment.

"Henry!" Lucien yelled. He glanced down at Alarica. The color of her hair was slowly fading from black to blonde.

Henry was already coming through the window, blood covering the left side of his face.

"It's Charlie," Lucien said. "Help him!"

Lucien slowly lowered Charlie to the floor. Charlie was attempting to breathe, but each breath gurgled. Lucien couldn't see the wound on Charlie's back, but he could tell by the hot warmth spreading over his hands and arms that Charlie was bleeding a lot.

Henry stumbled over. He stopped briefly to check on Eve, then scrambled to Charlie. He turned him on his side and grimaced.

"He knew this was going to happen," Henry said, his voice quiet.

"I don't care what he knew!" Lucien said. "Heal him."

"The sun has set, Lucien. Boaz could be here any second to see if you are dead, and none of us are in any condition to fight him. We need to leave here. Take Eve and go."

"I'm not leaving Charlie. Not if we can save him."

Charlie scratched at Lucien's arm. Lucien looked down.

"No regrets," he managed to say, but then coughed. Blood bubbled from his lips.

"Stop it, Charlie!" Lucien yelled. "You're going to be fine! Henry, can you transport all of us out of here?"

"Teleport?" He shook his head. "I've only teleported one other person in addition to myself, but never three others."

"But can you do it?"

"Maybe. In theory, but it could be extremely dangerous."

"We are already in a dangerous situation. Just get us out of here." Lucien was breathing fast, his muscles tight despite being exhausted.

Henry reached out and grabbed Eve's arm. He extended his other one to Lucien. "Whatever you do, don't let go of Charlie."

Lucien clasped Henry's hand and reached for Charlie, but at the last second he spotted the necklace nearby on the floor. He snatched it and stuffed it down Charlie's shirt before seizing his arm in a vice-like grip.

Henry lowered his head and closed his eyes. He spoke quickly, words in the ancient language. Lucien didn't recognize any of them.

All sounds and lights disappeared from the room, plunging them into heavy darkness. It was absolute and all-consuming, leaving him with a feeling of utter hopelessness. The temperature dropped suddenly, and the chill stung his skin. He wanted to quit right then, succumb to the darkness that felt eternal. At least here there was no pain from the outside world, no deaths, no heartache.

There was movement in his hand. His grip upon something was loosening, but what? He suddenly couldn't remember what he was doing in this dark world that embraced him tightly. He searched his memories for something he could cling to, but they were like water and
slipped
through his consciousness.

Until one didn't.

A simple crimson rose bloomed in his mind. Within it, he saw an eternity of beauty and love—a never-ending light that darkness could never reach.

Lucien tightened his grip with both hands and focused on the rose, the flower that had brought him and Eve together.

Lights turned on as if a switch had been flipped, and sounds returned. Lucien's teeth were chattering. He had never been colder.

Charlie was still in his arms, his skin ghostly pale. Henry had collapsed upon the floor, his breathing heavy. As for Eve, she was curled in a tight ball, ice crystals in her long hair, shivering. Lucien focused on the immediate problem before he became too distraught to focus on anything at all.

He gently laid Charlie on the floor and pressed his fingers to his neck. One, two, three, four… there was no pulse. He waited a few more seconds, but still no pulse came.

"Don't you die, you bastard," Lucien growled. He ripped open Charlie's buttoned shirt and smashed his fist into Charlie's sternum. He pounded several more times, but Charlie's body only jerked in response.

"Charlie!" he shouted. "Wake up!"

He stared down at Charlie's body, his mind racing through all sorts of solutions.
Magic!
He placed a hand on Charlie's head and concentrated hard. Eve had healed him once using magic; surely he could do the same to fix Charlie.

Despite being weak, Lucien used the last of his strength to ignite the power within him. It sputtered and spit, a small spark that couldn't catch fire. He dug deeper, going beyond his own knowledge and memories. He was concentrating so hard that his head shook and sweat rolled in great beads down the sides of his face. The ancient power was there; he sensed it in the deep recesses of his mind, but it was locked behind a door he didn't have the key to.

"Argh!" He pounded the floor in frustration, anger giving him enough strength to accomplish the motion. For the first time since Henry had transported them, he looked around. He was in a simple living room of what appeared to be a small home. Modern furniture, black sofa and chair, table, lamp, tan carpet. No pictures hanging on the walls. It must be Henry's.

"Why, Charlie?" Lucien lowered his head, guilt weighing him down. He should be dead right now, not Charlie.

His gaze flickered to Eve. The ice crystals in her hair were gone, and her color had returned. He hoped she would sleep for a long time. The pain she was going to feel when she woke would be terrible, and it wasn't a burden he could carry for her, though he would if he could.