The Soul Stealer (25 page)

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Authors: Maureen Willett

BOOK: The Soul Stealer
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They walked into the dark hallway, where only the buzz of the ice-making machine broke the silence. Walking down the two flights of stairs this time seemed to take even longer. With each step, Malia’s heart pounded faster, and her throat went dry, making breathing somewhat painful. She put her hand inside her purse and pulled out the dagger, leaving it in its case but holding onto it tightly. Hunter had his leather satchel slung across one shoulder and over his chest, and his dagger in hand. He walked as if he didn’t want to reach the door to the alleyway too soon.

“Once we get out of the building, we’ll take off immediately, so grab hold of me,” Hunter said, taking the final step down. “It will be quicker than you’ve experienced before, so don’t let go.”

“Gladly,” Malia muttered under her breath and she put one arm around his waist. The other hand still clutched her dagger.

Hunter opened the door and stepped out into the black night, and she went with him almost as if she were attached. Hunter could take flight almost like a catapult, and that was when he was trying to be gentle. He turned to get a grip on her before propelling from the ground and knocked the dagger out of her hand with the sudden movement. Malia bent to pick it up and for an instant she was out of his grasp, but it was just at the moment Hunter accelerated. And then he was gone, probably not realizing they had separated.

Malia stood there looking up, waiting for him to come back down, but all she saw was dark sky. Her breath caught in her throat as she heard a car’s wheels screeching down the alley coming toward her at high speed.

“Hunter!” she screamed. Malia glanced up at the sky and then down the alley at the car speeding toward her. She ran to the hotel door and tried to open it, but she didn’t have a card key. She hurried across the alley to the main hotel building, while the car’s wheels screeched louder and louder. The sound reverberated against the concrete walls of the two buildings. Malia pulled on the door, but it didn’t budge. Adrenaline pumped through her veins as she ran down the alley to the street corner, hoping to make it around the block to the main entrance of the hotel before the car caught up to her. Surely there had to be an open door and hotel staff there!

Malia looked behind her to gauge how much of a lead she had on the car as she turned the corner of the building. She didn’t see the large man blocking her way until she ran smack into him, almost knocking herself out in the process. She fell back on the sidewalk with the force of the collision, but the man didn’t seem to feel any pain as he reached down and grabbed her arm in his beefy hand. He pulled her back up just as the car halted in front of them and pushed her into the car.

Malia tried not to move as the point of a knife touched her skin over her jugular vein. She noticed the metal wasn’t turning green. It was just a regular knife, which gave her some comfort. She tried to see what was happening inside the dark car without moving her head, not wanting to disturb the position of the knife at her throat. There were two men in the front and the woman with the knife in back. They were all dressed in black, and didn’t bother to speak to her, or even look her way. The driver turned the corner onto a busy street and slowed the car down to a more normal speed. As they drove through the city, the knife stayed poised at the most vulnerable area of her neck.

After going through the bright lights of Hollywood Boulevard, they turned up a nearby street into a dark residential area. The man in the passenger’s seat looked out the front window every few minutes.

“Stop it!” ordered the driver. “He’s up there, don’t worry.”

“How do you know?”

“I told ya’, we get the girl, we get him. Simple as that.”

Malia’s heart pounded in her ears so loudly she almost didn’t hear Hunter’s voice when it came into her head saying, “Don’t worry, beautiful girl, I’m here above you. They will not get away from me.” His voice had changed. It held a deadly intent.

CHAPTER TWENTY

T
ime ticked by slowly as they got higher into the hills and away from the city. A thick mist covered the treetops and fell to the ground, obscuring the lights from below and casting strange shadows across the grassy meadow as the car slowed down. Malia had no idea a metropolis as populated as Los Angeles still had such deserted areas within its boundaries.

She abruptly felt the cold of the leather seat when the woman holding the knife to her throat pushed her face down and yanked Malia’s hands behind her back to secure them in place with handcuffs. Then Malia was yanked up by the hair, sending sharp pains through her scalp.

“Play it smart, and do as you’re told, and you might come out of this alive,” the woman said in Malia’s ear in a hard voice.

“Damn!” the driver yelled as he slammed on the brakes, bringing the car to a screeching halt and making everyone lurch forward with the motion.

Malia felt the leather upholstery for a second time as her face planted into the back of the driver’s headrest. Her nose took the brunt of the impact but it didn’t feel like any major damage had been done. Again the woman yanked Malia by the hair, pulling her back onto the seat.

“Do you mind?” Malia said in an angry voice, but everyone ignored her.

The sight before them sent waves of adrenaline through her body. Hunter stood in the middle of the road with his feet apart and fists clenched at his side. His head pointed downward, but his eyes blared straight ahead, boring through the windshield like laser beams, and his leather jacket glistened with moisture from the air outside almost making him look like he was glowing. “Get out of the car,” he ordered in an inhuman voice that echoed off the walls of the black sedan.

The driver turned and nodded at the woman holding Malia, so she pushed open the car door and went out, pulling Malia with her. Malia wanted to run to Hunter, but the woman pressed the knife to her throat again. The driver sat for a moment before opening the car door, and then he slowly got out and stood with the two headlights behind him. And finally, the other man got out of the car and stood beside the driver.

Without taking his eyes off the driver, Hunter raised his hands and swirled them to the side, and the car followed, turning over and over in the meadow and landing upside down yards away from them. Malia flinched at the sound of metal crunching as the car tumbled side over side, but the others just stood there as if they had expected it to happen.

“Your theatrics don’t scare me,” said the driver.

“Well, they should,” Hunter replied with a cold smile.

“I suggest you cooperate, and come willingly with us, or your lady, here, might get herself hurt.”

Malia felt something razor sharp pierce the skin across her neck with a quick stroke, and she cried out but was unable to move from the vice grip the woman had on her arms. The stinging pain and the shock of the assault made Malia’s knees buckle, so the woman held her in place. Blood spilled out of the wound.

Hunter stayed as still as stone. “You’ll regret that.” A tree behind them came uprooted and flew in the direction of the car, smashing the sedan as it fell on top of the hood.

“I suggest you curb your temper, sir,” said the driver, as if he were schooling a child. “The longer it takes you to surrender, the more pain she’ll suffer.”

Another slice came across Malia’s neck, and she cried out more from shock, although the pain was intense. This cut was smaller and less intrusive, but the knife was sharp and now at her jugular vein, making Malia stand very still as hot tears poured down her face. She felt warm blood on her neck, and she began to feel light-headed.

“I know what you’re thinking,” the driver said. “You could take us out one by one, starting with the bitch holding the knife. But one wrong move on your part, and your pretty girl gets her throat cut. And wouldn’t that be unfortunate?”

Hunter clenched and unclenched his fists. A growling sound came from somewhere within him. “What is it you want?” he asked in a low, menacing voice.

“Your cooperation, of course,” the driver said with a smile. “We’re not here to kill anybody. We just need to take you home. Daddy’s waiting.”

The woman took the knife and laid it fully across Malia’s throat and pressed it into her skin a bit harder, making Malia whimper before she could stop herself.

“Leave her alone, and I’ll surrender to you,” Hunter said, putting his hands together in front, as if waiting to be handcuffed. “But she goes free.”

Malia wanted to protest, tell him to run, but she couldn’t get the words out with the knife poised to slice open her throat.

Hunter’s voice came into her head. “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere with them, and neither are you.”

The driver nodded to the woman so she took the knife away from Malia’s neck and pushed her forward, causing Malia to stumble to her knees.

“Run, Malia, run! I’ll find you,” Hunter’s voice rang in her ears, but she couldn’t move as blood spilled from her neck. The woman kicked Malia in the ribs, making her fall over on her side. She tried to crawl to get closer to Hunter, but she got weaker with each move forward.

The man who had sat in the passenger’s seat walked over to Hunter. “So, you’re gonna surrender that easy, huh?” the man said with some surprise. “Must be true love.”

“Just be careful. You don’t want to make the wrong move,” Hunter said as he continued to stand with his hands held out in submission.

The man put his head back and laughed heartily. “You’re right about that, boyoh,” he said with a broad smile as he took a dagger from behind his back and stabbed it into Hunter’s abdomen with one quick motion. A little of the green neon metal still showed as Hunter’s hands went around the dagger in protest, and then he fell to the ground with a shocked look on his face.

Adrenaline and fear gave Malia the motivation to stand and run to Hunter’s side. The woman tried to stop her, but Malia slammed her body into her assailant and kept going, stunning the woman with the force.

“Ahh, let her go. We got him and that’s all that matters,” the driver said. “Get the transporter ready, so we can go home.”

Malia ran to Hunter, blind to anything else going on around her. He was motionless on the ground, and she couldn’t tell if he was breathing in the darkness. Blood flowed around the dagger, but it crystallized on his t-shirt instead of pouring onto the ground.

Deep, shaking sobs came from within her. “No, no,” she choked through tears. “Not this.” She couldn’t touch him because her hands were still handcuffed behind her back, so she knelt down beside his lifeless body.

“You’re wasting your time,” the driver said in an impatient tone. He had a neon green dagger in his hand as he took a step toward her, but then a ripple went through the ground, shaking the trees, followed by a great rumble, which made him stop and look around.

The fog got thicker for a moment, and then it lifted like a sheet of opaque glass going up to the heavens. Three figures formed as they glided forward over the misty meadow and became more defined as they got closer: A man, a woman, and a stern-faced rock star. His white ruffled shirt reflected the little light in the sky and hung loosely about his skin-tight leather pants. His eyes were more like shards of blue ice than anything human in shape or form, and his skin glowed white with opal glitter all over. He held a sword of neon green in one hand, which he gracefully flung in the direction of the driver, making it sail through the air. It so effortlessly arched toward the man, it didn’t seem to be moving at all, but it deftly sliced the man’s head from his body so fast his face had just started to shape the look of surprise as his head fell to the ground.

The other two assailants turned to run, but not fast enough. The male and female faeries with Andrew were on them with ease, cutting through skin and bone, releasing heads from bodies in one stroke.

Malia watched with her mouth open, unable to fully comprehend the carnage, even though this wasn’t the first time she had seen such a thing. She looked back down at Hunter and blinked rapidly, trying to control the emotions rushing through her so she could think clearly enough to figure out how to help him.

Andrew came over and knelt next to her and sighed. “This is a mess, isn’t it,” he said with some sarcasm.

Malia couldn’t believe he could be so cavalier while Hunter was dying before them. “Do something!”

“I thought I just did, but let’s see,” he said, putting his hand to his chin. He looked over at her. “If my prince is dead, shouldn’t you be on your deathbed, too? Isn’t that the way the whole soul mate thing works?”

Malia wanted to strangle him, but her hands weren’t free. She was about to scream obscenities, but then Andrew grabbed the dagger and pulled it out of Hunter’s stomach. Hunter’s eyes flew open, and he gasped for air and sat up, looking stunned.

“You really should be more careful, you know,” Andrew said to Hunter with a shake of his head. He turned toward Malia and winked. “Now, I’ll get those handcuffs off you. Something I’m quite good at.” He touched a finger to the lock and they fell away from her wrists. Andrew held up the handcuffs and looked them over. “I’ll add these to my collection.”

Malia’s arms went around Hunter, and she held him tightly, grateful for the sound of his breathing in her ear.

Andrew stood and wiped the grass off his pants and boots, and the other two faeries came over and smiled at Hunter and Malia. “I’d say it’s time to get you both to your new home, where I can keep an eye on you before you get into more mischief,” Andrew said with a sincere smile. “And I’ll get a doctor who can be discreet to pay us a visit and stitch you back together. Whatever he can’t do, I’ll fix so you won’t have a scar.”

“I’ll be fine.” Hunter grimaced as he stood up, but he was able to get his feet. “It’ll be healed by morning.”

“Not you, you dolt,” Andrew said with a roll of his eyes. He put his hand out and helped Malia to her feet. “Men are so thick at times, aren’t they?”

Hunter looked at Malia with a confused look. “You’re bleeding!” Then comprehension filled his face as Hunter seemed to remember what had happened, and anger sparked in his eyes.

Andrew rolled his eyes again and shook his head.

###

The skin around her eyes was dark purple and sunken, and the bandages at Malia’s throat pained Hunter’s heart more than he could bear. “I’m so sorry I didn’t do a better job of protecting you, beautiful girl,” he whispered as he bent down and put his lips to her forehead. She murmured in her sleep but didn’t open her eyes. “Sleep for as long as you need to. We’re safe now.”

Hunter looked around the spacious bedroom that was decorated all in white with furniture in sharp angles. Andrew’s home was a modern mansion with high walls around it and guard dogs roaming the grounds. He had a full-time security team that monitored who came and went from the fortress-like complex. Hunter felt safe for the first time in weeks. He touched his hand to Malia’s cheek, wanting to run his hands all over her body but not wanting to disturb her much-needed rest. There would be time enough for passion now that they had escaped, truly escaped, his father.

His father wouldn’t be able to penetrate Andrew’s well plotted defense system—something Andrew had perfected for years, it seemed. His fortune and resources were endless, enabling Andrew to prepare for any type of attack, whenever and wherever it might come. He had garnered a small army of misplaced faeries who lived to protect and serve him, and now they would give their allegiance to Hunter. At least that’s what Andrew insisted. And Hunter figured it was true, but he wondered at what price their help would come. He sighed as he noticed the bars outside the windows, thinking he had traded the prison at his father’s house for another similar situation. How long could he pretend he was interested in fulfilling some strange, ancient legend?

A soft knock penetrated Hunter’s thoughts, and then one of the double doors opened and a dark head peered around the door. “How’s our patient?” Andrew asked as he stepped into the room. The makeup and glitter were gone, but the spiky hair and jewelry remained, making him still look the part of a rock star. He almost looked human. Andrew glanced at Malia and then settled his light blue eyes on Hunter. “You know, she’s not bad, your girl,” he said with a nod toward Malia. “She’s got spunk. I like spunk.”

Hunter nodded and smiled, feeling a bit dazzled by Andrew’s presence. He took a deep breath, knowing it was just a chemical reaction any human had to faeries. And he was half human, after all. Hunter couldn’t help but wonder how Andrew looked in his true faery form, though.

“Come with me, my dear. I have something to show you,” Andrew said.

Hunter looked at him with raised eyebrows, but Andrew bowed and waited, so Hunter felt obliged to go with him. Andrew glided down the long, white hallway and through another corridor, but Hunter had to walk fast to keep up with him.

“This is my bedroom, just in case you’re interested,” Andrew said as he pointed to a door they passed. Then he went up some stairs and down another long hallway that was equally stark in design and décor. Andrew stopped at a pair of tall, dark, intricately carved double doors that looked entirely out of place in this very modern home, and put his hands on the ornate knobs. His smile broadened as he opened them, and then he stood to the side and waited for Hunter to pass through.

Hunter’s curiosity was piqued as he looked around the room that had been taken right out of the eighteenth century, with brocade-covered furniture, worn tapestries on the walls, dusty books on a ceiling-high bookcase, a stone fireplace, and threadbare rugs over a hardwood floor. It even smelled musty.

“This is where I feel most comfortable, most at home,” Andrew said with a proud smile. “It’s my own private world, and one that takes me back to my childhood, and happier days in the Otherworld.” He looked over at Hunter. “You may come here whenever you wish.”

“Thank you.” Hunter picked up a feather pen stuck in an inkwell. It had been used, and the inkwell was full of black liquid. “I’m honored.”

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