Soul Weaver Read online

  “Thanks.” Good to know how much time he had left.

  Reuel scooped up his trash, crumpled it. “When that time runs out, I’m coming for you.”

  “I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Saul murmured.

  “It’s either you or me, and it’s not going to be me.” Reuel glanced at the kitchen. “Bran’s a better man than I am. This job is a pain in the ass. Delphi is a pain in the ass.” He made a shooing gesture. “Go on now. Visit your son. Get him well, out of that bed and back on the job.”

  Turning and heading toward the fridge, Reuel rolled his shoulders as he went.

  Responsibility made Reuel twitch. It always had. Saul guessed that was why Nathaniel made fast friends with the other archangel. Reuel was content to follow like a good little soldier. Nathaniel was content to lead, as always. Their friendship had fallen into a familiar pattern.

  Now that pattern had expanded to include Saul.

  His head throbbed. What had Nathaniel done with the missing soul? Could Saul afford for it to come out that Nathaniel and Bran had organized that second collection? No. He couldn’t risk Delphi learning that unless there was no other way. If Nathaniel were found guilty, then he would be stripped of his rank and of his shears. Then what would Saul do? After all this time, those shears were still the only way he knew of getting into Heaven.

  Well, there was Bran.

  But those fiery wings of Bran’s might only have strength enough to carry one. Besides, his son hated him. No, there was no help there. Without leverage, Bran would never aid him. Not surprising since Bran was content to worship the mother he had barely known at her graveside.

  “Time’s wasting,” Reuel called.

  That much was true. If Saul wanted answers for Delphi, he’d better start asking questions.

  Surveillance of Nathaniel hadn’t turned up anything new, much to Azrael’s displeasure. For all the time Saul had sunk into trailing his brother, all he had to show for his efforts was the grim satisfaction that Nathaniel would experience the same loss he had. Saul wouldn’t even bother to break up the happy couple. Let them spend time together, age together; then death would shatter them.

  Knife in hand, Saul sliced a rift. Something about Nathaniel and his mortal bothered him.

  How had Nathaniel sensed the woman’s distress and known that she needed him? If such a connection were possible between a harvester and a mortal, Saul would have had such a bond with Mairi. He’d loved and cherished her for years, but the only bond they’d shared was in their hearts. If Saul had only known that Mairi needed him…

  His jaw clenched. He shut down that line of thought. Time was wasting. He could wallow in guilt and misery later. Now he had to save his own neck by finding the lost soul, and that meant he had to pay his brother another little visit. But first he needed to return to the old church’s bell tower and watch the show. If Saul gave Nathaniel enough rope, perhaps he would hang himself.

  And when he did, Saul would be there holding the knife to cut him down. For a price…

  Chapter Fifteen

  Nathaniel burst into the bookstore. Skating over the polished floor, he stumbled to a stop at the base of a wide staircase. Chest heaving, eyes wild, he searched for signs of Chloe. He was up the stairs and in her apartment before he heard Neve’s crooned reassurances.

  He charged through the somewhat familiar layout, running until he found the kitchen window where he’d last glimpsed Chloe and where the source of Neve’s voice originated.

  “What happened?” He pushed Neve aside and knelt.

  Chloe lay on the floor curled on her side, shivering violently and unconscious.

  “I don’t know. We were getting ready to eat. She went to the window. A minute later, she collapsed on the floor.” Neve’s voice broke. “I’m calling nine-one-one.”

  “Not yet.” Chloe’s pulse raced and her eyelids fluttered. He needed to open their bond.

  “Are you sure? With the medication she’s on…” Her lips pinched together.

  His chest tightened until he couldn’t breathe. “What medication?”

  Neve shook her head.

  “This is not the time to worry about her privacy.” His teeth bared in a snarl. “What did she take and why?”

  “Anti-anxiety medication.” Her chin lifted. “The reason is none of your business. If you want to know, you can take it up with her.”

  His focus sharpened on Chloe. He should have known living with the burden of knowledge she carried would drive her to seek help. “That explains a lot.” Her shyness and the state of her soul could be direct results from it as well. Even her hesitant touches should have hinted at inexperience rather than indecision on her part.

  He ground his teeth at his own foolishness as he set to work unfastening the restrictive collar of Chloe’s shirt. Then he spread the halves so she could breathe easier.

  “I don’t think it’s her medication.” He feared it was something much worse, an ability she could have only through contact with him. “It’s probably this heat.”

  He lifted her and shivered with relief from the simple contact. The quickest way to find out would be to ask Chloe, but first he had to get rid of Neve. She paced the kitchen floor, too wound up to stand still. She needed something to keep her busy and he needed her gone.

  Standing took effort. Heat mixed with fear kept him off balance. Once on his feet, with Chloe secure in his arms, he turned to Neve. “Can you bring her a cup of ice chips and a cool washcloth?”

  Neve wasted precious minutes frozen in place. “I don’t think her freezer makes chips.”

  “Go down to my truck. There’s a hammer on the tailgate. Put some ice in a plastic bag and smash the hell out of it.”

  After a jerky nod, she broke away and ran from the room. He followed as far as the living room, where he nudged pillows aside and tossed the blanket to the floor to make room for Chloe. Dropping to his knees, he settled her in and propped her head up on the remaining pillow.

  He fumbled her limp hand in his, wanting a physical connection to tether him. Relief made him press his lips to her knuckles as he tapped into their bond with surprising ease.

  “Chloe?”

  She whimpered in response.

  “Shhh. I’m here now. You’re safe.”

  “Never safe.” A choked sob. “He always comes. I knew he’d be back.”

  “No, meira, he didn’t come for you.” Though Saul would if he learned what she was.

  She squeezed his fingers past the point of pain. “I don’t want to die.”

  His eyes crushed tight against her plea even as her words stabbed through his heart.

  “I saw him…”

  “I know you did.” He stroked her cheek with his fingertips. “He’s gone now.”

  “He had wings. Like a bat. They were black glitter and bone.” Her thoughts turned frantic. “He came for me. I know he did. He always does…”

  “Enough. Try not to think about it.” Never one to follow his own advice, his mind churned over the fact that her terror was meant for him, although owning up to it now would be disastrous. “He’s gone now and I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

  “Nathaniel?”

  If he answered her again, he risked revealing himself. Part of him wanted her to know, to have his crimes spread out between them and let her judge him as he had judged so many others.

  Their bond was growing roots, deepening their connection. If she could see Saul now, when souls were invisible to mortals, then what other talents might she develop in time? She used the harvester bond between them unconsciously, but with ease. Could she channel other harvesters as well? He doubted she would live long enough for them to find out.

  Warmth spread through his hand from the small one curled in his grasp. The notion of losing her made his every fiber rebel against the inevitability.

  He couldn’t save her. Delphi’s scales demanded balance, and her soul was the weight they required.

  From downstairs, he heard a series o
f dull thumps as Neve used his hammer to make a bag of crushed ice. Hurried footfalls brought his head up in time to see her crest the stairs. Forget smashing ice; he should have sent Neve to a gas station to buy some, anything to steal a few more minutes alone with Chloe.

  “Will this do?” Neve hefted a bag as she approached.

  “It’s fine.” His focus had already returned to Chloe.

  Neve knelt beside him and pressed the back of her hand against Chloe’s forehead. “She’s not feverish. Give me a second and I’ll grab a towel to wrap this in.” Clutching the bag of slush, she vanished into the kitchen where he heard drawers slide open and closed. She reemerged with towel in hand. Its center darkened as the melting ice spread through the cloth. The damp strands of Chloe’s dark hair were pushed aside to make room for the cool compress.

  “She looks better already.” Neve sounded relieved. “Are you staying with her awhile?”

  “I’d like to.” Though he didn’t need Neve’s permission, he asked, “Do you mind?”

  “It’s not my place to say. You make that call.” She exhaled. “Look, I can’t leave the store unattended. Let me finish up with the customers we have, and I’ll lock up for the rest of the day. Can you hang around that long?”

  “It’s no problem.” Neve would have to drag him out if she wanted him to leave.

  “All right.” She turned to go. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  “Take your time.” There was that word again, time. They had so little of it.

  He didn’t bother watching Neve go. There were more pressing matters on his mind. Bent over Chloe’s couch while he watched her sleep, he couldn’t help experiencing a moment of déjà vu. He had been foolish to think Saul wouldn’t become curious as to his whereabouts. The danger to her now was greater than it had ever been. He groaned through a spike of exhaustion. “I should leave.”

  “No.” Chloe stirred, cuddled against his thighs. “Stay.”

  His resistance crumbled with every sleepy stroke of her thumb over his shin. Her loose limbs dangled as he lifted her and settled on the couch, situating her across his lap. Tucking her close, he whispered placations in the language of his creation. Rusty from disuse, the melodic words came hard to his tongue.

  While her even breathing signaled her descent into deeper sleep, he indulged his need for reassurance by inhaling the sweet scent of her apple shampoo, then tracing her features with his fingertip.

  Beautiful and gentle, Chloe was stronger than she realized. She was his meira, his light, and he would kill anyone who dared attempt to extinguish her brilliance.

  Chloe woke to a throbbing ache in the back of her head. She groaned, shifted her weight, and felt something too soft to be floor and too hard to be couch beneath her. Her eyes opened and bright sunlight sent shafts of pain stabbing through her temples.

  “Ouch.” She blinked up at Nathaniel, who didn’t look happy. She pasted on an I-feel-perfectly-normal smile from reflex. “What’s with me and your lap, huh? I mean, it’s comfy, but I do own chairs.”

  The worry lines on his face relaxed and his grip loosened, but not by much.

  “I was worried about you,” he said. “Are you okay?”

  “Me?” Her voice trembled. “Oh, I’m fine.” She was home. She was safe. And whatever creature she had imagined lounged beneath her elm tree was just that—her imagination. The shaking moved into her hands. “I should get up.” Quick. “I need something to drink.” In case this new manifestation of her nightmare man paid her another visit. Wings, really? They only made him more terrifying.

  Refusing to let her budge, Nathaniel grabbed a water bottle from the side table at his elbow and handed it over. “Here you go.”

  “Thanks.” The cold bottle was sweaty from the warm room. “I should probably still sit up.” She cleared her throat. “I don’t want to choke.” She patted her pocket. “Or let you see me lick a crushed pill from my fingertips.”

  His eyes darkened in an unnerving way. His jaw set and instead of helping her out of his lap gracefully, he sat her upright like she weighed no more than a child. One of his large palms spanned her lower back and kept her balanced on the width of his thigh. An air of expectancy surrounded him, but he couldn’t know how much she needed him to look the other way.

  She dropped hints the best way she knew how, but he didn’t pick them up. Being around him made it all too easy to sink back into his warmth. Let him stroke her back and press hot lips to her forehead.

  Fear of reliance pushed her from his lap. “I could use something to eat.” Her fingers worried the crescent shape on the outside of her pant leg until it drew his notice. “I didn’t get much lunch down me before…” She winced. “Well, I’m hungry anyway. I saw you had company. That plate probably wasn’t enough to fill up two guys your size. How about I make some sandwiches?”

  “Are you sure you feel up to it?”

  Her head was killing her, but she had to get a pill down her throat before she had another episode. “Oh, I’m fine.” She headed for the kitchen.

  His voice trailed behind her. “You said that already.”

  “Well, you keep asking me the same question.” Desperation made her snappish. “So, I figure you must want the same answer.”

  “In that case, I apologize.” The corner of his lips hitched to one side. “I really was worried about you. I didn’t know if the heat, or something else, might have caused you to black out.”

  The way he said “something else” made her bristle. Unsure how he could know, but equally certain he did, Chloe experienced a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. “You sound like you think it was more than the heat.”

  He found a sudden interest in the tasseled fringes of her couch pillow. “I used the restroom while you were sleeping.” His hand fell into his lap and still he wouldn’t meet her eyes. “I thought you might want something for a headache when you woke up, so I opened your medicine cabinet.”

  She winced. “And found a pharmacy.”

  His cheeks creased in a smile as he rose. “Something like that.”

  Somehow she ended up in the kitchen with a tie in one hand and bread slices in the other. The counter bit into her stomach and her knees bumped the lower cabinets. She was as far away from Nathaniel as she could get without climbing in the sink and crawling down the drain.

  Heat encased her back from shoulder to hip as he crowded her with his large body. His chin rested atop her head. His arms wound around her, trapping hers against the countertop.

  “I’d like to know more about you,” he said, “in case something like this happens again.”

  Complete truth wasn’t an option. The last thing a sane man wanted to cozy up to was a crazy woman. But he did seem concerned, so a brief explanation might do the trick.

  “I have these episodes.” Her nails poked holes through the soft bread. He took the ruined slices from her, covering her hands with his. Protected by a wall of Nathaniel, she pushed her trust further. “They’re, um, panic attacks?”

  “What triggers them?” His lips brushed the shell of her ear. “So I’ll know what to look out for.”

  Low and deep, his voice drew the words right out of her.

  “I was in an accident last year.” Heated breath fanned the column of her throat. She swallowed hard. “And when I see things that remind me of… Well, it triggers an attack.”

  “So there’s something on your porch that bothers you?” Moist lips trailed down the back of her neck.

  She tilted her head and was rewarded with a string of kisses across her jaw. He mumbled something against her skin. “What did you say?”

  “You wouldn’t come outside to inspect the porch.” He nipped her chin. “I wondered if something about it bothered you.”

  “The porch is fine.” It was the world surrounding it that made her twitchy. “Can we discuss the price of lumber or the going rate on nails?”

  His cheek came to rest against hers. He supported her as she leaned against him,
made her feel his acceptance clear to her soul.

  “I’m here if you ever want to talk. No matter what you have to say, I won’t judge you.” Lower, she heard him say, “I don’t have the right.”

  She worried he did have rights to her, too many for comfort.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Mindful of her wishes, for now, Nathaniel rubbed Chloe’s arms and changed the topic. “Your air conditioner hasn’t kicked off since I got here. It feels like it’s blowing hot air.”

  “I’m not surprised.” She stepped away long enough to gather supplies for their sandwiches. “The upstairs unit is pretty much shot.”

  “The store runs on a different circuit?” Several of the older, larger buildings worked that way.

  “Mmm-hmm.” She sliced into a tomato and layered the thin circles between pale turkey slices. “My parents moved here right after they got married. The apartment was leased separately from the space below while my grandparents owned the place, so all of the utilities were divided. Even after my parents took over the business and moved in, they never changed things over.” “Anyway,” she carried on, “I had the downstairs unit serviced a couple of years ago. I opted to wait and purchase new units once I’d saved up some more money.” She shrugged. “I just never got around to doing it.”

  And now she paid the price for it. “You could have mentioned it to me.”

  “We negotiated for a porch, not a renovation.” She frowned into the jar as she scraped mayonnaise dregs from the bottom. “It would have been unfair to take advantage of you just because you’re here.”

  “I know my way around most units.” He ought to, since he helped Bran with the compound’s maintenance often enough. “It wouldn’t take but a minute for me to find out if I can patch them until you make the service call.”

  “It’s not that hot.” She laughed. “I’ll turn on a fan or something.”

  “Where are the units? Out back?”

  “Yes.” She shook her butter knife in his direction. “And you are not to touch them unless we come to some kind of understanding.”