The Soul Stealer (10 page)

He finally pulled away. “I’ve never felt anything like that before,” he said in a hoarse voice. His crooked smile lit up his face.

Malia’s breath caught in her throat as she remembered his innocence. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to attack you like that.”

Hunter rolled off Malia and started laughing. “You can do that to me anytime you want.”

They both looked up at the ceiling, but Hunter’s hand sought hers and soon their fingers were entwined. The sun was gone, and they hadn’t bothered to turn on any lights, so the streetlight outside cast long shadows against the ceiling. Loud music came from upstairs, signaling her friends were still there.

“Hunter?”

“Yes, my love.”

“Tell me that you didn’t have anything to do with that poor woman who was found this week without a head.”

There was a moment of silence in the darkness. “No, I didn’t have anything to do with that,” he finally said.

“Did anyone in your family?”

“No,” he said in a definitive voice. “Is that what you think?”

Malia put her hand to his cheek. “No, I don’t think that. My mind has been playing tricks on me.”

Hunter pulled her closer.

“I thought I was being chased on the hiking trail today,” she explained further. “And the guy I had dinner with last night is a cop, and he told me some things that made my imagination run wild. He said something about symbols being carved into the victim’s hand, and that it might be a family crest. Then, last night in my room when you told me the mark on your bracelet is your family’s crest, I freaked out.”

“Is that why you pushed me out the door?” There was concern in his voice rather than accusation.

She closed her eyes, feeling safe—something she had rarely felt as an adult. Hunter stroked her hair, and she ran her hand around his soft, smooth skin.

“Then tonight, my neighbor said something about a blond guy being in my house when I wasn’t home, and it sent chills down my spine. I started to imagine all sorts of things. But now I’m thinking she’s the one who’s imagining things. Auntie Jenna’s in her eighties, after all.”

Hunter became as frozen as a statue.

“Is there something wrong?”

He started to stroke her hair again. “No. I’m sure you’re right. There’s nothing to worry about. Besides, I won’t let anything, or anyone, hurt you ever again.”

He rolled on top of her once more, kissed her neck and then proceeded lower. “Perhaps I should do the same to you as you did to me.”

Her heart raced as he started to pull down her shorts. “Have you ever done this before?” she asked.

“No,” Hunter said with a laugh. “But I wasn’t just studying physics all those years alone in the tower.”

T
he small bed shifted when Malia got up. Hunter wanted to open his eyes and kiss her goodbye before she went upstairs to get ready for work, but his eyelids were just too heavy. Sleep was his only comfort from worry, and right now he needed that more than Malia. The coming day would zap all his energy, he was sure of it. Searching for a hiding place would be exhausting, and mapping out a plan for escape would be tiresome, but what would drain him the most was focusing his entire force on his father. Hunter had never tried to read someone from such a long distance before, but he knew it could be done. The thought of getting inside his father’s head left a bad taste in his mouth and sent a chill down his spine. This would make for a dark day, indeed, but he had to try.

Hunter got out of bed and peeled off his clothes. The headache was too much. He wouldn’t be able to concentrate if it kept pounding, so he sat down on the floor and crossed his legs. The purification process could take at least an hour, possibly more, because so many toxins had built up in his system. He closed his eyes, waiting to feel the vibration begin that would push all the poisons out through every pore and form a slimy glaze over his skin that would then turn to golden dust. He would keep every particle he shed, of course. Back home, people would kill for that amount of dust.

His eyes flew open! The image of his brother in Malia’s house was too strong to be just an idle piece of his imagination. It invaded his mind with full force.

The man on the corner was attractive in a startling way with sharp, hawk-like features and piercing eyes, and his golden skin contrasted with white blond hair, which was cut short and spiky on the top. He wore loose camouflage pants low on his hips and a black, cropped t-shirt that revealed rippling muscles. There was something familiar about him, but Malia couldn’t pinpoint what it was as she glanced his way while walking into the shop that morning. Her eyes went back for a second look as if by their own power, and his steady, emotionless stare sent a shiver down her spine. He leaned against a lamppost as if he had no direction in life, just another lost soul passing the day on a street corner for lack of anything better to do. There were so many in this part of the city.

Malia knew better. He was there to watch her. She could feel it in every muscle.

“Look at that hot blond dude over there,” Lani said as Malia went in to the shop. Her friend didn’t try to hide her curiosity as she looked out the front window. “Not many guys lookin’ like that around here.”

“No, there’s not,” Malia said under her breath. She straightened some clothes in the window, trying to get a better look at him without being obvious. “You’d think he’d have something better to do than just stand there.”

Lani shrugged and went back to helping a customer.

Malia peered through the large picture window once more. The man wasn’t staring at the shop, but he was still standing there. And she knew he would be there when she closed for the day, too. Then what? Would he follow her down the street to her car? The ring of the antique cash register made Malia jump.

“Thank you, and I’ll let you know if we get a matching jacket for that skirt,” Lani told the customer as she walked the woman to the front door. She waved as the customer left.

“Is he still there?” Malia didn’t want to look out another time, but she knew Lani wouldn’t have a problem doing so.

“Yep,” Lani answered before stepping out to the sidewalk and making a pretense of shaking out a dust rag. Malia couldn’t believe what she was seeing as Lani smiled at the guy, but he crossed his arms over his chest and turned toward the street.

Lani came back in a huff. “He’s just some stupid guy with nothing else to do. Don’t get spooked.”

Malia tried to smile, but it didn’t work very well. “Is Eric coming by today?”

“I’ll call him and tell him to, just to make you feel better. Or why don’t you call your detective if you’re so worried? He told you to call if you see anyone suspicious.”

“He’s not my detective,” Malia protested. “But that’s not a bad idea.” She took a deep breath and looked over at the phone by the cash register, knowing who she really wanted to call, but he didn’t have a cell phone.

The thought of Hunter brought an involuntary smile to her face. They had spent all night in the studio, holding each other, talking, and exploring each other’s body—to a certain extent. Hunter didn’t want things to go too far too fast. At least that’s what he claimed when she started to take off her shirt. He stopped her, even though he had already ravished the lower part of her body with his mouth, which seemed entirely more intimate than showing a little skin. Instead, at that point he pursued conversation, asking her all sorts of questions about her childhood while he cuddled up next to her under the covers of the studio’s twin bed with his hands between her thighs most of the night. He was so unforgettable in so many ways, it was difficult to turn her thoughts away from him.

The audacity! Hunter couldn’t believe it. How dare they send someone to check on his progress, especially that one! As if he knows enough to check up on me! Fury threatened to make him lose all perspective as he tracked the blundering mortal. Darkness would possess him if he indulged in anger too much, but it was difficult to deny the fire making his blood boil. He had not been gone long, so his father should not be suspicious yet. Hunter didn’t even have to think about which way to travel and instead just followed the scent he knew so well. It was much too easy to find his target. Hunter thought he had taught Archer better than this.

Hunter landed on the sidewalk in a flash and barreled into the younger man, pushing him into the shadowy alley before anyone on the street saw the altercation. He didn’t stop until he had the fiend pinned against the wall with the sharp dagger at his throat.

“What do you want?” Hunter asked through clenched teeth.

The betrayer’s eyes looked down at the dagger in Hunter’s hand and then back at Hunter in defiance. “Don’t be such an asshole. You should have expected this.”

“How did you get here?” Hunter asked, wanting to push the dagger into Archer’s skin but knowing he shouldn’t. Feelings that had festered over many years were taking an ugly hold on him, and he had to resist the instinct to kill.

“Same way you did.”

“I doubt it,” Hunter said.

“Oh, that’s right. You have all the special talents, don’t you, brother dear?” Archer said with a sardonic smile. “But technology works for me. All I had to do was zero in on the coordinates of the microchip in your back to find you, and that’s exactly what Father will do if you don’t return soon. He’ll send his minions here, and you know what will happen then.” The menace in his tone spoke louder than the words he said.

“Aren’t you his minion?” Hunter backed off and took the dagger from his brother’s throat.

Archer acknowledged the question with a sardonic smile.

“You’d love to see me go down, so you can have all of his favor.” Hunter almost hissed the words. “But you can never be what I am, and Father knows that.”

“I would never want to be what you are. But just so you know, Father is getting impatient to get his fighting dog back to its cage. Your absence has been helpful, though, brother dear. I think he’s realized he can’t put all his hopes on you,” he said with a wicked smile. “I bet he decides to get rid of you, and that little girlfriend of yours.”

“Stay away from her!” Hunter lunged in attack, but his brother stepped to the side and countered with a fisted blow to the side of Hunter’s head that knocked him against the wall. Hunter turned, ready for a fight, but Archer stood there laughing. The blow had stunned him enough that he wasn’t going to attack for a least a moment or two. He shook his head, trying to stop the spots in front of his eyes. He could use more than physical force. But he wouldn’t. Not on Archer.

“I guess all those years of the two of us fighting have paid off for you. You know my weaknesses, don’t you, Archer?”

“Quite well. And believe me, I will use them against you,” Archer said with a pointed look in the direction of Malia’s shop.

Hunter’s blood boiled once again and a surge of fury rushed through his body as he lunged at Archer and pushed him to the ground, rolling down after him. The dust twirled around in the air by their feet. Hunter dropped the dagger and put his hands around his brother’s throat and started to squeeze. “If you go anywhere near her again, I’ll track you down and kill you with my bare hands,” he growled, applying just enough pressure to get his point across, fighting the urge to gag from Archer’s all-too-human smell. “And no one would come after me if I did, especially Father.”

Knowing he was one step away from murder, Hunter let go when Archer started making gurgling sounds. He grabbed his dagger and stood up, putting the knife back in his leather bag.

Archer was still on the ground, coughing, trying to get air down his throat. He waved his hand around in front of his face to keep the sparkling trail of dust Hunter made from going up his nose. “What are trying to do, make me hallucinate?” Archer asked through gasps. Slowly, he got to his knees.

“I know you’re afraid she won’t want you when she finds out what you are,” Archer said, still wheezing from lack of air. “But not even someone of your kind should lower yourself to be with an enemy of the Blackthornes.”

“Malia is not our enemy.” The anger started to rise in Hunter again.

“What? You know who her mother was.”

“I don’t care about Malia’s mother, or her relatives,” Hunter said, still standing over his brother, who was now on his knees. “They are not a factor in Malia’s life.”

“You were sent here to end her existence, not start dating her. Remember? You don’t seriously want the granddaughter of Father’s biggest enemy? Toy with her a bit and get on with it!” Archer said with disgust in his voice. “Mother, especially, would not approve, so don’t even think about bringing your girlfriend home for dinner.”

“I don’t care what your mother thinks.”

“Oh that’s right. I forgot,” Archer said with a cold smile. “She’s not your mother, which makes you. . . oh yeah, half-breed bastard. Must be hard on you to always be the outsider, even in your own family.”

“At least your mother has strong feelings for me,” Hunter countered with a sly smile. “What’s it like to be just mediocre and forgotten by your own parents? I’ve often wondered.”

Archer laughed at that. He was still sitting on the pavement, rubbing his throat. “That’s a good one.”

Hunter relaxed a bit. Their fight was over, at least for now. He leaned against the wall. “I can’t help what I am. And I never asked to be Father’s right hand. I didn’t want that put on me in addition to everything else.”

“Don’t expect me to feel sorry for you. Father has given you everything, and now all he wants is for you to complete this task. You’ve found her, so take the prize and go home, just as he wants you to. I’ve been sent to deliver that message, because apparently I am nothing more than a messenger boy to dear old Dad.”

“You can take my place with him anytime,” Hunter said in a determined voice. “I don’t want it anymore. I’m not going back.”

“You’ve lost your mind! You’re his prized possession; his magical son. He’ll never let you escape. Maybe the travel sickness has made you mad to say such a thing,” Archer taunted. “Or, maybe it’s the freedom after all those years of duty and obedience. Or maybe. . . have you finally become a man? Have you finally gotten laid? Was she worth the wait?”

Hunter looked at his younger brother and rolled his eyes, not willing to let Archer goad him into anger again. He picked up his leather bag, ignoring his brother. “She’s worth everything,” he said more to himself than to Archer.

“I used to wonder what you did up in that tower by yourself while I had a different girl in my bed every night.”

“You and I have lived much different lives, which is why you could never take my place, even if I don’t go back. You have no discipline or scruples.”

“You pompous bastard! As if you have any morals, whatsoever!” Archer screamed as he lunged at Hunter. “I’d rather see you dead than return home.”

The look on Archer’s face told Hunter he meant what he said, so Hunter snapped his eyes shut and concentrated on Malia. As he catapulted over the buildings to land in the doorway of her shop, Hunter could hear Archer yelling, “glittery, dust-filled freak!” after him.

“At least I’m not a moron,” Hunter said to no one in particular as he opened the door to the shop.

“Hunter! I’m so glad you’re here,” Malia said with a smile, as she almost ran into his arms. But then she stopped herself.

Still the cautious skeptic, he noted. He couldn’t blame her, though. If Malia were smart she’d run the other way as fast as possible.

Something had shaken her up, yet again, and he had a pretty good idea what, or who, had done it. Although Archer was probably the culprit, Hunter felt at fault for bringing his family into her life.

“You’re bleeding. What happened to you?” she asked.

The concern in her eyes caught him off guard. Hunter put a hand to his forehead and then looked at the blood on his fingers, wiping it on his pants, not wanting her to see it was different. His face must have connected to the brick wall harder than it seemed during the fight with Archer. “It doesn’t matter.”

Malia took his hand and pulled him into the back of the shop to the bathroom, away from the prying eyes of two elderly women going through racks of clothes.

“Sit,” she ordered and pushed him down on a hard chair. She took a first aid kit out of the cabinet under the sink and put alcohol on cotton balls. “This might hurt a little.”

Hunter winced when he felt the alcohol absorb into the deep abrasion on his forehead, knowing the treatment was pointless. The injury would soon be healed.

“Well, you’re not bleeding now, so that’s good. It must not be too bad. How’d this happen?” Malia demanded. “You look like you’ve been in a fight.”

He couldn’t see the expression on her face as he tried to come up with a plausible explanation.