Soul Taker (17 page)

"Aye, I can." He stood and backed up a few
paces from the sofa.

"Wait!" She held up a hand. "Aren't you going
to strip down naked or something? Your clothes…"

"Any other time, I might have made an
off-color remark." He shrugged with a grin. "No, I don't have
to."

Garran did laugh. "My dear, are ye concerned
he will ruin a good pair of jeans? I only wish ye would have shown
me as much consideration."

"The change is magical in nature," Harrison
explained, ignoring Garran's snide remark. "I can change into what
you would consider a wolf without taking off my clothes. The older
the Mac Tíre becomes, the easier it is for him or her to shift. I
don't have to strip down to my bare bum anymore. It would be rather
inconvenient if my clothes ripped apart every time I shimmered from
one reality to the other. I'll leave that dramatic flair to the
fictional
Hulk
." He waited, letting what he revealed sink
in. "Any more questions?"

"A million, but go ahead and do your thing."
She waved for him to continue.

He gave her a sympathetic look before she
noticed his aura turned a shade darker. It was happening. Until
this moment, she held onto the fantasy he couldn't really shift
into a wolf, but her illusions were shattered.

Harrison's hands changed first, growing
longer, and hairier. The metamorphosis was nothing she could have
imagined. One moment Harrison stood in front of her, and then the
next a massive wolf strode toward her. She jumped onto the couch as
if standing on the cushions would save her from an attack. Before
she could decide if the scream bubbling up from her throat would
make its way out, Harrison shifted back to his human form again. It
was that simple, that quick, as if he donned a new set of clothes
in a blink of an eye.

"Omigod!" She still stood on his couch,
prancing around as if she spotted a mouse on the floor. "Omigod!"
she said again, her hand to her mouth. Then she pointed at
Harrison. "You're a friggin' werewolf!"

He threw her a lopsided grin. "Don't be
afraid of me, Isabella. I won't hurt you."

She'd seen the beast, the wolf that was part
of him. She had no doubt he could do considerable damage, but he
obviously didn't use his beastly side to harm. His aura proved it.
The colors were warm without dark gray and black to mar its
brilliance. He had a good heart.

The colors never lied.

She plopped back down on the couch. Elbows on
her knees, she rested her head in the palm of her hands as she
absorbed all she had witnessed.

Harrison sat down beside her, careful not to
touch her. "I know this is all a shock, and wish I could have saved
you from ever knowing the truth, but we need you, Isabella."

She took a ragged breath and sat up straight.
She stared at her folded hands as if holding them together she'd
keep her sanity. "You're a werewolf and he's a vampire." She nodded
toward Garran. "Why would you need me?"

"Isabella." Harrison gently touched her chin,
turning her face toward him. "You can see auras like your father
and if I'm right, you inherited your mother's talents as well. And
that my dear friend, is how we are going to catch the bastard who
harmed Johanna."

What she would do if she could get a hold of
the man… Grim Sith, who hurt Johanna.

"That's it," Harrison said. "Harness that
anger."

His words startled her. She hadn't realized
she wore her intent so clearly on her face. "What do I need to
do?"

Garran stepped forward. "Ye claimed the woman
at the hospital spoke to ye."

She gave him a curt nod. She was still not
sure of Garran. She didn't know him. As if Harrison sensed her
hesitation, he placed a hand over hers. She looked at him, his
whiskey-colored eyes beseeching her to trust them. She had to take
a chance if she were to help Johanna. Why not take it with someone
who could actually face the threat. "Yes, the woman spoke to me.
She died soon after you left the room." She met Garran's gaze and
didn't shy away.

"It does no' surprise me. She was too far
gone."

She inhaled deeply and exhaled with a whoosh.
"I brought her back." She licked her lips and brushed a wayward
hair away from her face. "I asked her who did this to her. She
said…" She realized the woman never named the man. She moistened
her lips. What had she done? She accused Garran with no evidence.
She closed her eyes and held back the tears of frustration. She
would not let her emotions rule her.
Take control,
Izzie.

She opened her eyes again. "The woman—Missy
was her name. She told me
his
kiss took her." At the time, I
didn't understand what she meant. Now…

"We already know this much." Garran threw up
his hands, clearly disappointed.

"Well, sorry. I didn't know what questions to
ask and I had very little time before the nurses came back to take
her body away. I thought you were the murderer. It was an easy
assumption."

Garran harrumphed and looked at Harrison.
They exchanged glances before they both leveled their gazes on
her.

"What?" she asked, not sure she liked how
they were eyeing her.

"Izzie," Harrison spoke. "If we could see the
body again—Missy," he corrected. "Would you be able to call her
back from the veil one more time?"

"It wouldn't really be her. Her aura… It was
so damaged. The shade would only be an impression of her last
coherent moments; the rest of the memories would be gone. We would
be chatting with an entity that had a spiritual lobotomy. She may
be able to give us some answers, or she may just babble."

"Impressions are good," Harrison told her.
"We have the right questions to ask. We want to know where she was
when the Soul Taker stole her soul."

Chapter Thirty-Two

Lucky for them, the medical examiner on duty
was Mary Wilson, a woman in her early thirties and single. Harrison
knew how to charm the ladies with his easy demeanor and good looks.
The latter Garran could only guess was the truth. Go figure, human
females went for his brute magnetism. Harrison convinced the M.E.
to step out for lunch, which gave them at least a half hour, maybe
an hour if Harrison pushed for it. Harrison would give them fair
warning with a text when the M.E. was on her way back to work.

Garran couldn't help but notice Isabella
shivered. He wondered if it were from the cold or because they were
about to raise the dead.

He wasn't overly thrilled about opening the
veil. He knew from Louisa Lucci, the longer a soul lingered there,
the more vengeful they became. If Isabella wasn't careful, she
could summon another soul, who waited there, determined to escape
and cause havoc.

He'd only agreed to use Isabella's talents
because Alexander had managed to stay glamoured and Sanya had yet
to find out where he held up during the day.

Missy Spangler lay on the stainless steel
table with only a sheet covering her body. It was policy for the
hospital to do an autopsy if the death seemed suspicious or if the
person happened to perish from an unforeseen illness. In Missy
Spangler's case, the hospital had most likely become suspicious
that three similar cases of women in their early to late twenties
had died, or were dying, of heart failure. They would want to rule
out some sort of virus that targeted females in their particular
age bracket.

Most likely, murder would not enter their
minds. Alexander didn't leave obvious evidence. The discoloration
on the roof of the mouth could be explained away as bruising from
the breathing tubes.

Isabella stood next to the table, staring at
the body of Missy Spangler. Sadness etched her features, and she
made no move to do… whatever she did to summon. He decided to move
this along before Dr. Wilson or anyone else discovered them. "Miss
Lucci, must I remind ye that time is of the essence?"

She threw him a disgruntled look, but it
propelled her into motion.

They had stopped by Isabella's place on the
way here so she could pick up what she needed to conjure a soul.
She pulled out a diagram with symbols, a black mirror, and an out
of date mobile, a flip-phone no less.

Curious, he stepped closer.

She placed the diagram and the mirror on the
woman's chest. She placed the open phone on the table to reveal the
screen. She then pulled out a dagger jeweled with an amethyst hilt.
She pricked her finger and blood welled at the tip.

Her scent had already played havoc with his
senses, and now the aroma of her blood, fresh and dripping onto the
diagram for him to see—it took all he could do to rein in the urge
to sample her. His fangs elongated and a deep growl escaped his
lips.

Isabella looked at him, her brows drawing
together sharply.

"Go on. Do no' mind me."

Her gaze shifted to his mouth and he knew she
stared at his fangs.

"Ye're safe from me. It's… the blood." He
nodded toward her finger. "I'm in control."

She looked as if she didn't believe him.
Smart
lass
. A Grim Sith's word was only as good as
his control, and that could change in a flash.

"I'm going to channel," she told him.
"Please, don't talk or you might break the link to the other
side."

He gave her a curt nod.

She chanted words and it took him a moment to
realize the words were spoken in Latin, a prayer of protection he
supposed, until she switched back to English, asking for Missy
Spangler. She searched for a link to her spirit beyond the
veil.

The temperature in the room dropped
dramatically. The air around Isabella charged with electricity,
making her dark hair stand on end as if tiny fingers held up each
strand.

She repeated the words over and over again
like a
Gregorian
chant. "Missy Spangler, a
word with you, please. Missy Spangler, a word with you, please."
Again and again she repeated the singsong phrase.

Just when he thought it wasn't going to work,
the lights in the room flickered and the cell phone rang.

Chapter Thirty-Three

"Missy Spangler, is that you?" Isabella
asked.

Garran had moved closer to the table and she
showed him the screen on the cell with the '
yes'
typed
out.

"Missy, we need to know who hurt you?"

Hh…im

The longer the soul was separated from the
body, the less coherent they became, and Missy's spirit had been
fragmented on top of that.

"We need a name and where she met him."
Garran said.

She threw him a disgruntled look and he
lifted his hands and mouthed, 'Go on, ask'.

She had to stick with yes and no questions.
"Did Alexander hurt you?"

Yes.
Appeared on the screen,
immediately followed by:
Kissed me.

"He kissed you. We know."

Kissed me,
was typed out again.
Took… me.

This was nearly the same conversation she had
with Missy in the hospital. She feared they weren't going to find
out much more. The spirit was too damaged. "Where did you meet him?
Missy, we need to know."

Dead… I'm dead…cold, so coooold.

"Where did you meet, Alexander?" she repeated
with more force.

The lights overhead dimmed. Missy's
death-glazed eyes stared at her. The shade was drawing energy from
the lights. She would have to break the connection soon or Missy's
body would become animated. If that happened, explaining why they
were here would fall by the wayside. "Missy, where did you meet the
man who
killed
you?"

Missy's body shook, rattling the table. The
phone rang, then vibrated, then rang again, before the words typed
on the screen.
Siren's Call.

Then everything stilled as if all the air had
been sucked out of the room and Missy Spangler's spirit with
it.

"What happened?" Garran asked and moved
toward the table. "Can ye bring her back?"

She frowned. "I wouldn't advise it. The shade
was trying to latch onto Missy's body. If that happened, we would
have a heck of a time trying to make it relinquish its hold on this
plane of existence. Besides, I doubt we would find out anything
more. Missy's essence was too wounded. We were only speaking to the
echo, the last thoughts before her soul was taken. It was just an
imprint."

He didn't look pleased, but he nodded. "We
need to remove the evidence that we were here."

She agreed. The hour was almost up and
Harrison and the M.E. would be returning soon. She reached for the
paper with the diagram. "I need to burn this." She looked at
Garran. "It has my blood on it and the symbols are a doorway."

He took it from her. "We wouldn't want this
to fall into the wrong hands." He looked at the paper with
curiosity."

"Exactly." She tossed him the throwaway
lighter she picked up a few days ago at the mart. As he took care
of the diagram, she grabbed the gloves and the cleaning solution
she spotted on the counter to wipe the table edge. She didn't
believe she touched anything, but she didn't want to chance it.

She glanced at Garran, a handsome man in a
rugged way, who looked to be in his mid-to-late twenties. She had a
hunch he was much older than his appearance dictated. His eyes gave
him away, the windows to the soul…
a very old soul.
"If they
were to find your fingerprints, would you be in a database
somewhere?"

He looked at her with a raised brow. She
wondered if lifting his brow was a habit or if he was truly
surprised by her curiosity.

"Vampires like to stay off the radar, so to
speak, but we also must blend in whenever possible. I have a
driver's license, credit cards, and other such means a human must
have to survive in this mundane world."

It was her turn to raise a brow. "You could
have just said yes."

This won her a
harrumph
.