Soul Taker (7 page)

Nicholas crossed his arms against his chest.
The stance clearly called him a liar without voicing a word.

"Thank you, Harrison," Isabella said. "If you
could bring the plate up front that would be wonderful."

He walked by Nicholas and Isabella followed
close behind, but her brother pulled her back before she could make
her escape.

"What's going on, Izzie?"

"We were getting the garlic bread like you
asked."

"It looked like more."

"Yeah, well it wasn't." She yanked free and
headed up front.

Chapter Nine

Garran silently moved around the grounds of
the Revere House searching for clues the police were not equipped
to find. Supernatural creatures left a residue not unlike DNA. He
would know if it was male or female or whether it was a vampire,
demon, werewolf, or one of the Fae. The
Soul Taker
, as
Harrison had dubbed Boston's threat, was a being from his vampire
sept
. Be it Alexander or another Grim Sith, he'd pick up the
signature.

He looked up at the building where Revere had
lived with his wife and his brood of children. The man had two
wives with sixteen children between them. He shook his head
perplexed at how the man, with such a brood, found time to become
so successful.

Garran walked over to the adjacent building,
Nathaniel Hichborn's house. He retraced his steps back to Revere's
again. He sat down on his haunches. The sickly sweet aroma of death
lingered like a marker. The girl had taken her last breath here, or
rather her last breath had been taken from her. He ran his hand
over the roughened ground to get a better reading. Emotions tended
to leave a residue behind, violence and rapture being the strongest
to pick up. He couldn't read the emotions as well as a sensitive,
but he could manage a general idea of the girl's last moments. "She
knew him," he stated, not surprised. He stood and looked
around.

The place was quiet, probably like the night
she walked to work. The tours of the historical houses ended hours
ago. Did the girl meet the
Soul Taker
here or did she happen
to walk by and he surprised her? A movement to the left of him
caught his attention.

"I thought it was you, Garran MacLaurin."

Garran recognized the raspy voice before she
revealed herself by stepping out of the shadows. "Monette Garlen,
what brings ye to my city? Last time I heard ye were residin' in
New Orleans." Monette was a beautiful woman of Jamaican origin,
dark flawless skin, and full figure. Garran wasn't easily put on
edge, except when it concerned voodoo or the dark arts. Monette was
proficient in both, making her as dangerous as a viper.

"Have you been lurking too long in your
coffin? My home was wiped out with Hurricane Katrina."

Garran ignored her sarcasm. "So, ye're here
because?"

She threw back her head and laughed. "So
worried, Garran MacLaurin."

"Should I be?" He had yet to find out all the
major preternatural players in his territory, but he would be sure
to add Monette's name to his list.

Like always, Monette danced around his
questions. "I've relocated here. I have a shop. You'd be surprised
what tourists will buy from a voodoo shop," she said with a
smile.

He highly doubted it. Most humans tended to
be naïve and purchased things on a whim with no idea what power the
items possessed.

"Why are you so interested in Revere's
house?" she asked. "Come to take a tour, did you?"

Her chuckle grated on his nerves. He could
pretend he was out for a stroll, but Monette would smell the lie.
"A young woman was murdered here."

Monette wandered around the yard, pretending
to be disinterested, but Garran knew she wasn't here for a late
night
stroll
anymore than he was. This meeting was purposely
orchestrated, but to what purpose Garran would have to wait and
see.

"Why do you so concern yourself with such
trivial happenings? So a girl perished. So what? Hmm?" She moved
behind him, hugging his torso as she rubbed her hands up and down
his chest, nearly purring as she leaned into him.

"I chose Boston as my main headquarters.
Pardon me, if I prefer it to be in peace."

"Why can't we all get along?" Monette whined
sarcastically. She let her hands drop as she sauntered into a
position to face him. Her smile turned cold. "Then you better tend
to the intruder. He's one of yours, I believe."

"The vampire who's taking up the sport of
soul takin'—
that vampire
?" he asked to clarify.

She considered her answer before she nodded.
"He needs to be stopped."

"Do ye know where he is?" He actually was
surprised Monette hadn't gone after the vampire herself. She was
not without power. Her radiant beauty was proof enough. Monette had
to be going on forty, but she looked as young as she did when he
met her some twenty years ago.

"I can see things, feel them," Monette
snapped. "I'm not a friggin' homing device."

He held his temper in check. He wouldn't find
out anything if he lashed out. "What do ye know then?"

"The vampire wants to destroy what you hold
dear. Tread softly, Grim Sith, for he will bring you down if you
are not careful."

"And why would ye warn me, Monette? Seems out
of character for ye"

She chuckled as she drew closer. She ran one
long nail down his chest. She flirted, but her dark eyes were cold
and threatening. "Let us just say it would be in all our best
interest if you found him." She turned away walking toward the
street, but before she reached the edge of the gate she was gone,
vanishing as if she'd been an illusion. She was definitely dealing
in some dark magic.

Garran stood there for another moment,
wondering what Monette could be after. She never divulged
information without an ulterior motive. He had a preternatural
serial killer on his hands and now a psychopathic voodoo queen
threatening him to take control of the situation.

A few moments later, Harrison strolled in to
join him, smelling like he ate a clove of garlic on his way. He
wrinkled his nose at the pungent smell. Garlic didn't harm
vampires, but it did give them pause. All senses were heightened as
a vampire, and some scents tended to haunt a person like an
unwanted spirit. Garlic happened to be one of them. "Anyone of
interest show up at the wake?"

"No, but I have reasons to believe Isabella
sensed something preternatural. She was spooked. All the signs were
there – fidgety, anxious, and fear strong and prominent, as if she
doused herself with it like a perfume. I started to question her
and she admitted seeing Marcy's soul or at least tried to, but her
brother walked in on us."

"Almost tellin' ye, is no' much to go
on."

Harrison threw him a perturbed look. "What
did you discover here?"

"That Monette Garlen wants the killer dead as
much as we do."

His hands came uncrossed. "Monette? The
psycho voodoo witch?"

"The one and the same."

"I thought she was holed up in New
Orleans?"

"Guess she relocated after Hurricane
Katrina."

Harrison threw up his hands. "Bloody
brilliant. She almost had us killed the last time we worked with
her."

"We'll have to figure out what she's really
after. Until then, watch yer back."

Chapter Ten

He went by many names since his birth… and
death. Some names were coined to him as the authorities hunted for
a killer they would never find and others he'd chosen himself.

In this century, he selected the name
Alexander, the name his parents had given him. He thought it ironic
or perhaps fitting, the name meant the
helper of
mankind
.

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. He did go
out of his way to help humans find their
eternal rest
. It
also helped to line his pockets with cash.
Souls
made him a
good profit. Franco and he had a good thing going here. Franco,
being the governor of the Otherworldy territory at this end of the
country, covered up the deaths that caught human attention, but the
bugger became greedy, demanding a bigger cut of the action. He had
to dust him.

His lips slid into a smile as he thought of
the glass spheres sitting on his shelves at home—witch balls they
were called, but they suited his purpose to trap the soul until he
could find a buyer. Vamps from different
septs,
an incubus,
or a succubus looking for a quick fix were his best customers.

He didn't completely give up human blood, but
in this day and age, the authorities tended to be unnerved if too
many bodies showed up drained. Humans with their superstitions and
lore didn't readily recall vampires also could consume the soul,
the complete essence of the human's life force. It was like a
delicacy, filet mignon versus hamburger.

His gaze slid over his chosen victim, a young
woman in her mid-twenties, pathetically plain and apparently not
very bright. Her name was Deana Timberlan. After her late shift at
the karaoke bar, she walked home every night down this alley, which
led to her apartment.

"Ye should be more careful, sweet. Didn't yer
mum warn ye that dark alleys were no' safe?" No one would come to
her rescue. If they spotted them in the dimly lit alleyway, they
would believe they were lovers out for a midnight tryst.

He brushed her locks away from her face. He
wouldn't be selling her soul. He needed substance and her essence
left a sweet taste in his mouth. His hand caressed her cheek, but
she was beyond feeling any intimacy now. He'd taken most of her
essence and she hung onto life by a mere thread. He could stop,
leave what was left, but why leave the poor girl to suffer. She'd
never fully recover, not with so much of her soul gone. It was
better to end her pitiful life now. He was sure she would thank him
if she could. "Ye're welcome, sweet," he said, as if she had. He
covered her mouth, giving her a lover's kiss. He inhaled, taking
her last breath with a swallow.

Waves of pleasure coursed through him. He
would be strong when he took his date out tonight. His mousey
florist amused him—for now. He wanted to play with her a while
longer before he took her soul.

I'll be there soon, luv.

Chapter Eleven

The rest of the night, Isabella felt her
brother's heated gaze on her after he caught her with Harrison in
the kitchen, but she refused to look at him and give him the
opening to blast her with his opinions while they still had guests.
He would have his say—later.

Unfortunately, later had arrived.

Mario volunteered to give Patti a ride home.
Johanna was the last to leave the wake. She stayed longer, sensing
the tension between her and Nicholas, but it was well after
midnight. She couldn't keep Johanna here all night.

Johanna gave her a hug and she returned the
gesture. "I'll call you tomorrow," Johanna told her. "Good luck
with Nick."

She glanced over her shoulder to Nicholas. He
was humming as he gathered his plates. Yep, she was in for a good
discussion.

Johanna gave her a sympathetic look. Isabella
squeezed her hand. "I'll be fine. You know how Nick gets. He saw me
talking to Harrison in the kitchen and assumed something was going
on between us. I get the feeling he thinks Harrison's a
player."

"He might be right," Johanna said hesitantly
and didn't meet her gaze.

Isabella sighed. "It doesn't matter. I'm not
seeing
Harrison." She told Johanna, wanting to make sure her
friend knew she had no claims on the man. "You know if you have a
thing for him—"

"What?" Johanna's voice squeaked. "Me? God,
no. Harrison… He makes me nervous."

Isabella tried not to smile. "He seems to
like you."

Johanna shook her head. "He's just being nice
because I'm your friend. Besides, I have a boyfriend."

"Oh yes, the elusive boyfriend," she
teased.

"I'm meeting him tonight. He had to work late
and since I was out late…" she shrugged.

This was so unlike Johanna. "Wow, a midnight
tryst."

"Not exactly. He's going with me to Salem to
check out some property for sale near the waterfront. It'll be a
great location for a flower shop.
My own shop
and not
someone else's."

Isabella knew it was a dream of hers and
hoped it all panned out. "You're leaving tonight? Why not head out
tomorrow morning?" It wasn't like Salem was far away. It was only
fifteen or so miles away, but Marcy's death had left her anxious
for the safety of her friends. Of course, evil wasn't only for the
night, but for some reason the light of day always seemed
safer.

"We wanted to miss the morning traffic.
Besides, he works nights. It's difficult for him to change his
sleeping habits. I'll call you tomorrow and let you know how it
turns out." She leaned forward and gave her a hug goodbye.

"Drive careful then, and good luck."

"Thanks." She looked toward Isabella's
brother. "See ya, Nick." Johanna waved to him.

"Bye, Johanna." He returned the gesture.

Isabella locked the door behind Johanna. She
knew it would be a matter of seconds before Nicholas would question
her about Harrison and what he
believed
he saw going on in
the kitchen.
One, two
…

"I thought you told me you weren't interested
in Harrison Connell."

Her brother was so predictable. "I said we
were friends." She picked up the salad bowl and one of the platters
before heading toward the kitchen. Nicholas followed with his own
plates.

"You looked awfully cozy." He placed his
burden on the counter near the sink.

Yeah, real cozy
, Isabella thought.
Harrison drops the—
I knew your mother and I know you're a
Necromancer like her—
as if this was a typical conversation at a
wake. She wanted to corner Harrison and question him further, but
he'd slipped out before she had the chance. She glanced at her
brother. She couldn't share any of this with him—at least not
yet.