Chapter 13
Cain
Even after a full nightof rest, my energy reserves desperately craved a recharge, so I blinked to the campus to find a random soul.
I was not quite sure why I didn’t choose a bar or a prison to capture a deserving soul, because that was what I normally did unless Lucian gave me a specific target.
Maybe you wanted to check on Phoebe.I started at the sound of the tiny voice of conscience. After all, it had been an eternity since it had spoken up and over the past two days, it demanded to be heard.
Lucian’s command to gather information about Phoebe’s necklace thrummed inside my skin, an itch not quite scratched. If I went too long without obeying, the itch would become an ache. Too much longer, and his demand would consume my every thought until I had no choice but to obey or risk punishment.
It never got to that point. I was nothing if not efficient.
A searing shiver crept along my skin. In my early days that taste of Lucian’s punishment had been creative and horrendous.
He doesn’t tolerate failure.
But he’d given me another chance despite the protests of the other Chosen—and they’d hated me for it, whispering he coddled me, that he cared for me more than he should. These whispers were never spoken where he could hear, though.
I learned from my first mistake because his special brand of cruelty—burning, agonizing whips of power slicing across my skin and liquid lava eating my bones—were powerful incentives not to ever screw up again.
Appearing in the university’s quad, I hid myself in shadows.
In the middle of the college grounds, between the dorms and the separate buildings for class, sprawled the park. Wrought-iron benches and tables sat under leafy oak trees, bald cypresses, and tall maples, their bark white and outer leaves wearing the barest hints of yellow around the sharp edges. All around the vibrant area, students studied textbooks, typed on laptops, ate lunch, or conversed with one another.
The temperature, warm and dry, hovered in the eighties, and the slight scent of maple mixed with the hint of spice, promising cooler weather wasn’t far behind.
An older man, sporting a navy-blue uniform with Barkley University Maintenance Department stamped above a breast pocket, swept a weed eater back and forth, edging the grass along a caleche pathway meandering under the shade of the trees, the low engine of the machine cutting through the students’ quiet murmurs and fingers pecking on keyboards. Fresh-cut grass mixed with the spicy air. Bright sunlight dappled through the leaves on the branches to land on my exposed hands and the neat walkways.
It’s too bright out here.The dark made it easier to hide because, in the daylight, my mark became a liability.
If the wrong person looked at it, chaos would erupt. And thanks to my father’s curse, one touch from my ungloved hands would kill...except for Phoebe, who seemed not to be affected for some reason.
Killing humans never bothered you before, so why are you being careful now?My annoying voice of conscience reared its head again, and I grimaced. Icouldn’t care less about hurting these people, but Idocare about obeying Lucian’s command, which is to not rock the boat.
No answer.
Well?
The voice remained silent, and I wondered if I’d finally begun to lose my grip on reality.
Closing my eyes, I inhaled a lungful of the refreshing air to steady myself, refocusing on my task at hand. My current mission concerned teasing information from Phoebe then escorting her to my commander. That was it. Which meant I needed to scout out my next soul and stop talking to myself.
I slid on a pair of dark, wrap-around sunglasses. I shouldn’t have cared if my mark hurt or killed anyone. But for some reason, the thought of destroying an innocent churned my stomach. Why?
Because Phoebe’s innocent. How would I feel if something happened to her?This thought, more than anything, pounded in my head and stirred uneasiness in my chest.
I lived for the joy of siphoning a pure soul and sending it onward to Hell. Why the fuck did it suddenly bother me now?
Gritting my teeth, I dropped onto a metal seat at an empty table near the outer sidewalk framing the rectangular park, searching for a likely target.
Four women strolled the walkway next to the parking area twenty feet away. One—her long, brown hair reaching her hips—winked at me, and the tip of her pink tongue swiped across her bottom lip seductively.
I had enough power left for a light, compulsory delve, so I grinned and crooked my finger, gently digging into her brain and suppressing her willpower.
Come to me, sweet.
