Soul Resurrected (Sons of Wrath, #2) (5 page)

“Yessir.”

“Prepare the others.” Gavin huffed, his gaze trailing over each of the ragged-out looking ghouls surrounding him. “This place is about to get shaken and I’m
not
looking forward to sharing the news with Ben. Nothing spells a shitty night quite like a pissed off troll.”

CHAPTER 3

Logan’s muscles seized and his eyelids flipped open. He stared up at the Greek mythology painted across his ceiling through a blur, exhaling shaky breaths. The sharp pain that had burned through him had subsided, replaced by a miserable, dull ache, and his mental command couldn’t lift his arm from where it lay beside him.

Still numb
.

His gaze fell to the wall across from him, perfectly sealed without any disturbing evidence that he’d had access to a young girl’s bedroom at any point during the night.

Just a hallucination.

Calla’s blood must have been the cause for seeing things. Feeling things. The waking from the dead shit seemed to come with a whole slew of irritations—like part of her soul had taken up residence in his body.

Whatever shit haunted Calla would likely become his little merry-go-round of hell, if that was the case. Hallucinations would probably be one of the more
minor
side effects.

“S’all I fuckin’ need right now,” he muttered. “Pissed off Hello Kitties chasing me through the streets to bubblegum pop music bullshit.”

As the pounding of adrenaline slowed, he took a deep breath. At least he could still breathe.

“Logan?” A quiet voice drifted across the darkness, tickling his senses.

His muscles twitched, wanting to attack. Instead, he lay helpless, unmoving on the bed. He growled, nostrils flared. “Who’s there?”

“It’s okay.” Nervous vibrations innervated his muscles as she spoke. “It’s just me. Calla.”

Calla.
He’d forgotten his babysitter slept in the room. Damn, if the sound of her name didn’t rouse every bit of rage inside of him. At the same time, it left him curious to see her face. To see if she’d healed from the gore of her abuses he’d just witnessed.

“I … your brother … Ayden asked me to look out for you.”

“I don’t need a babysitter.” He
needed
to get his ass up off the bed and chase her out the door.

Calla stepped into his line of view. The blonde in her hair almost glowed in the darkness. Nothing like the dream he’d seen, fanned all over the carpet, coated in blood and bits of her own flesh. Her cheeks carried a soft rouge that made her blue eyes sparkle. “They just wanted me to stay in case you needed anything. You called out my name a couple minutes ago.”

Christ
. “I don’t. Get out.” A burning sensation traveled beneath his skin, accompanying faint vibrations, like he could sense her trembling and somehow feel it deep inside of him.

“They told me to—”

“I don’t give a shit what they told you. Out. Now!” His command thundered and bounced off the walls. Pins and needles sliced through his veins like pings of electricity had been pumped into him. Grunting at the sensation, he squinted his eyes shut, willing it to pass.

The sound of her breath hitching was the last thing he heard before the door clicked shut.

* * *

Asshole.

Calla ambled swiftly down the hallway.

Don’t cry. Don’t you dare cry.

Laughter from one of the rooms stopped her in her tracks. When Zeke’s voice rose above it, she continued on.

Soldier up.

She’d been through worse. Not like being an Alexi soldier had been an easy life. Still, part of her wanted to leave. The mission was over. She didn’t need to stay any longer since Wade wouldn’t be hunting her down anymore.

Where do I go?

Sure, she could get by on the streets without money, but eventually she’d need weapons. And no way she’d ask the demons for a handout. The eldest Wrath demon, Gavin, had been nice enough to let her take his bed the last couple of nights, without laying so much as a finger on her, but no doubt another woman had taken her place already. After all, the males had a reputation of womanizing. Calla refused to be passed around the mansion like some kind of demon groupie.

Damn Logan.

She reached the staircase and, as flashbacks from earlier in the night tormented her thoughts, she dropped down onto the first step and buried her face in her palms.

So stupid
.

The way she’d fallen all over Logan after he’d been stabbed. Singing and crying like some kind of mental patient.
Ugh
. The mere memory of her behavior made her cringe. What the hell had that been all about? In front of all his brothers, no less.

Exhaustion weighed down on her muscles. She’d spent most of the night imagining her brother’s horrific death, plotting her vengeance against the wolves and Draven.

Jake
. Anger seeped into her bones as her mind crafted visions of him lying stiff and cold beneath earth flecked with shards of glass from liquor bottles and broken needles.

Remember his face,
she told herself, as if she’d forget so soon. The roundness of it that made him appear childlike, despite his eighteen-year age. She wished she had a picture of him, something that would prove he’d once been a part of her life. Only scattered memories remained of the last five years, everything beyond that robbed by the Mindslating she’d undergone during her Alexi transition.

An ache bloomed in her heart at the thought that he might still be alive if she’d never left, if she’d never taken the assignment and simply refused Wade.

Who was she kidding?

No one refused General Wade. The bastard possessed some of the most sickening, unnatural tactics of keeping the Alexi in line.

What was the last thing she’d said to Jake?

Stick with Draven
. The other males of the Alexi compound had liked to give Jacob crap for having the faintest levels of antibody. If not for Draven, Jake would have been the center of their cruel pranks more often than not. Last she saw him, her brother had seemed paler and thinner, a result, Calla feared, of his incessant teasing, though asking him would’ve been futile since Jake always brushed aside her concerns as babying him.

Calla could stab her own heart out for saying the words that’d surely sealed her brother’s fate. She’d have traded any one of their cruel pranks for the vicious mauling that Jake suffered instead.

According to Draven, he’d been ravaged by lycans after they’d fled the Alexi compound together. Jacob’s arm had been torn off and his stomach ripped open. Anger wound in her gut. Draven knew damn well he’d be at risk. It was Draven’s fault her brother had gotten attacked in the ambush.

Kill
.

Yes, Draven would be the one to die by her hands. Just as soon as she ditched the stupid Mary Poppins nightmare.

Jacob’s killer roamed the streets, and there she remained stuck, babysitting some psychopath who hated her guts. Okay, she was the reason Logan had gotten stabbed with the Demortis and, yeah, he did keep her from enduring the lifelong humiliation of being robbed of her virginity by Draven, right there on the hallway floor. But she couldn’t possibly be more sorry. And she
did
offer up her virgin blood to the male—a sacrifice that ultimately brought him back from the dead.

Didn’t that make it even? Couldn’t he just cut her a break?

The succubus who saved Logan’s life had said he’d probably be paralyzed for the first few days. How sweet of her to commit Calla to the task of nursing his grouchy hide back to health.

“No way I’m doing this for the next three days,” she muttered, her gaze falling on the front door. Where would she go, though?

The compound had burned to the ground, according to Ayden, and all the Alexi would surely be long gone. Not that she’d go back there.

Also, by some miracle, Draven managed to escape the demon mansion and the ghouls–which meant he’d undoubtedly be after her if she left.

Good.

Vengeance coursed through her blood like razor blades, ready to slice right through her skin and unleash hell.

The need to transition her mind to more important matters—like killing some wolves and the asshole who buried her brother in a dirty, abandoned building—tugged much stronger than the ungrateful demon who made The Hulk look like a nice guy.

Ayden survived the streets. You can, too. You’re a trained Alexi.

Time to act.

She straightened from the top stair.

“Sweet child, what are you doing out here?”

The voice sent Calla flying backward, stumbling down two steps before she caught herself on the banister.

Annabelle, the demon housekeeper, reached for her hand. “Oh, oh, I am so sorry, miss. Didn’t mean to startle you!”

Calla sat back down on the step, stifling a disappointed groan in her throat. Escape plan thwarted. “I’m sorry, Anna, did I wake you?”

“No, no. I was up earlier. Like to have a cup of tea, sometimes, in the evening. Plus I heard Master Kane and Miss Ayden return from outside.” She leaned in. “I hear they spent the evening inside the property cave.” Anna placed a hand over her mouth as she chuckled.

Calla smiled at the gossip. Ayden, a fellow Alexi and client of the demon brothers who also happened to be staying at the mansion, had told her that Anna’s species of demon were known for spreading rumors and thieving. Though she couldn’t steal anything, thanks to a hex that Gavin had placed on the house, the female still gossiped.

“What are you doing out here all by yourself, love? Did Master Logan need something?”

Calla shook her head. “No.” Perhaps the first time someone
hadn’t
needed her. As ridiculous as it was, the idea spurred a shine in her eyes as thoughts of Jake surfaced once again.

Tamp it down.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever felt so alone in my life.” As soon as the words slipped from her mouth, Calla straightened and cleared her throat, suddenly wishing she could take them back, hoping Anna hadn’t heard her.

Arms wrapped around her. Warmth and comfort, like a blanket.
Resist
. The Alexi soldier inside of her wanted to strike out against the embrace.
Let go of me!
her inner voice screamed. Instead, she took heaving breaths. The warmth of Anna’s hug had her muscles sagging and eyes pooling again. Before a brimming tear could spill onto her cheek, she sniffled and rubbed it away.

“I don’t know what to say to you, child, to ease the pain of your loss.” Anna gave a soft pat to her back. “How about we find you a nice comfy bed. Your own. I’ll warm some milk to help settle your nerves. It should help you sleep, too.” She kissed the top of Calla’s head. “You’ve been through so much this evening.”

God, could Anna be more wonderful? Calla choked back the tickle in her throat and pulled away from the embrace. Swiping at her eyes, she mustered a smile. “Yes, I’d like that.” She’d figure everything out the next day, after a few hours of sleep.

Hell, she’d never been a stranger to living on the streets. In fact, she found comfort in the abandoned buildings and decay, had been trained to survive in them. In some ways, she welcomed the idea of being out there, living by her own rules with no Wade to answer to anymore. For one night, though, she’d take advantage of having her own bed, at least once, before sleeping among the rats and rot. It’d let her focus on a plan of attack, instead of having to keep her guard up, waiting for one to fall on her in the middle of the night.

The dark black orbs of Anna’s eyes that overpowered the hazel should’ve been frightening and cold—like a doll’s eyes–but somehow they put Calla at ease, as Anna stood and reached down to her.

Hesitating for only a second, Calla grabbed her hand and followed behind the hobbling old demoness, through the halls and down another short corridor—one she’d not yet ventured. The surroundings looked much the same as the others, until Anna opened the only door to its room beyond.

Calla gasped as she took a step inside.

As if she’d walked into the forest itself, lush greenery captured her attention in the murals painted on the walls. They emerged and came to life in the few plants scattered about the room, giving almost a three-dimensional look to the artistry.

“This was originally Miss Ayden’s room. A gift from Master Gavin. Apparently, it held too many … er,
memories
for her. So, here it sits, unoccupied.”

The intricacy of leaves and golden trim stole Calla’s breath. Animals, so lifelike, stared back at her from around trees and hidden in shrubs. The gold trim on the leaves glistened like ribbons across the ceiling and walls. So beautiful, as if golden fireworks had been thrown into air. The room itself carried so much energy it moved through Calla’s body, making her want to dance in it. In the corner of the room stood a large marble sculpture: a woman, kneeling beside a fawn, arrow drawn. Her wild hair drifted behind her as if a gust of wind blew past.