Her Soul for Revenge (Souls Trilogy)
Her Soul for Revenge: Chapter 49

The clouds were thick overhead, and I could barely see anything in the dark. The floodlights around the outside of the house were the only illumination as Jeremiah and his cronies launched backward through the wall in an explosion of shattered glass and splintered wood. But after that, the fight was hidden on the opposite side of the house. All I could hear was the destruction: crumbling brick, snapping wood…and gunfire.

Guns couldn’t bring Zane down. It wasn’t the bullets that concerned me. What worried me was how long it had been. I’d watched Zane annihilate a room of eight people within two minutes. Humans weren’t difficult to kill.

If Jeremiah was truly a match for him…if Jeremiah was stronger than him…I didn’t know what the hell I’d do.

I gripped my shotgun closer, my heart pounding faster as the minutes dragged on. I hated hiding there in the dark like a coward. But I’d agreed to let Zane handle it. I had to be patient. I had to be smart about this.

The floodlight at the back of the house flicked on. I sat up, narrowing my eyes as several figures walked into the open.

Two armed gunmen, thoroughly armored, were headed straight toward me, their guns at the ready. Behind them…

Behind them was Jeremiah, dragging Zane.

It felt like cold water had been dumped over my head. My breath caught, sick disbelief gripping my stomach.

“Oh, Juniper!” Jeremiah yelled, his voice high-pitched with wild, reckless excitement. “Come out, Juni! It’s been so long!”

Shit, shit, shit! I began to creep backward into the trees, deeper into the darkness and the thick underbrush. I couldn’t assess his injuries from this distance, but there was blood smeared across Zane’s body. I had no idea how much of it was his.

Zane was one of the strongest beings I knew: the only thing I’d ever seen best him was that Archdemon, Callum. And I couldn’t believe Jeremiah was that strong. If he was…

If he was, how the hell could I take him down?

The gunmen were quickly encroaching on the trees. I couldn’t see Jeremiah now, but I could still hear him as he called out, “You can’t hide, Juniper. I know you’re here. Why don’t you come out and play? Your demon couldn’t handle the game. Why don’t you come try to help?”

There was a sudden, ragged cry of pain, and my heart lurched. Fuck, what the hell had Jeremiah done to him? I crouched low and backed up even further. The gunmen had flicked on their flashlights, attached to the front of their vests. Those guns were no joke either. Jeremiah had them well-armed and well-equipped.

The bushes weren’t thick enough to hide me from their light. I ducked behind a tree, my back pressed to the trunk, my shotgun ready. I took a few slow, deep breaths — I had to stay calm. Jeremiah was calling my name, his voice getting louder and more wild with every passing second.

“Juniper! The Deep One misses you, Juni!”

Laughter followed, sending a shudder up my back. My mouth was dry, and my cold hands shook on the gun. Behind me, the footsteps came ever closer, snapping twigs and crunching leaves as they closed in on my hiding place.

Zane would want me to run. He’d demanded it, he’d insisted that if Jeremiah somehow overpowered him, then I had to go. But I couldn’t make myself do it. The very idea was repulsive. I could run from here, but what then? I’d go back to how I’d been before: running constantly, rarely resting, always looking over my shoulder. I’d go back to clawing my way through every day, surviving only for the sake of it, with no hope, no future, no light.

Ahead of me, in the darkness, there was a blur of red. Wide eyes stared me down. The Watcher waited for my fear. It waited for me to fall apart. I had no doubt it could hear my pounding heart and taste my adrenaline rush in the air.

I’m sure it would have loved to see me run.

I clenched my jaw. I’d promised myself I was done running. Zane had come back for me when my life was on the line; I wasn’t about to abandon him, not now, not after we’d come this far.

A home isn’t just a place — sometimes a home is a person; sometimes a home is flesh and blood.

And I’d defend the home I’d found to my last breath.

Slowly, carefully, I eased my shotgun back into its holster on my back and took out my knife from its sheath. This wasn’t the time to go in guns blazing. One missed shot in the darkness and they’d know exactly where I was. I had to take out these two as quietly as I could, and then…

Then I’d figure out what to do about Jeremiah.

I huddled low to the ground, my back still against the tree, as one of the gunmen passed by my hiding place. The other one was about a hundred yards away, his back to me, shining his light into a thick tangle of bushes. The man’s head and face were protected, but there was a small gap beneath his helmet. In the dim light, I caught a flash of bare skin: the back of his neck was exposed.

I rose up, stepped behind him, and jabbed the blade sideways into his throat.

He made a small sound, a whimpering gurgle as he collapsed against me. God, he was heavier than I expected, I could barely hold him up. I could only ease him slowly down, and drag his body under some bushes as quickly as I dared.

“Hey, you hear that?” the other guy shouted. I remained crouched, behind the tree again, the man bleeding out at my feet. “Hey, Anthony! Anthony?”

The footsteps came rapidly closer. His light swung dangerously close to my shoe, and I crept around one side of the tree as he came around the other.

“Oh shit…shit!” His light fell on the dead man and he began to rapidly back away. “Hey, J —”

He backed right into me.

I tried to stab him in the same spot, but my aim was slightly off. The knife ricocheted off the side of his helmet and he flailed, using the gun to try to strike me. But I gripped tight to his back, arms around his neck, and my weight was enough to throw him off balance. We collapsed backward, him on top, and his body knocked the air from my lungs. I gasped desperately, still clinging to him, refusing to let go. I began to stab frantically, wildly, but the knife couldn’t penetrate his jacket, and he started yelling.

“Jeremiah! She’s here, she’s fucking — agh —”

“Just fucking die,” I hissed as I sunk the knife deep into his neck, finally replaceing the soft spot. His blood spurted over my hand, the warm spatter flecking my face. I shoved him off and kept low, trying to see what the hell Jeremiah was doing now.

I couldn’t see him.

I looked around nervously, scanning the trees. The Watcher had come close now. I never saw the damn thing move, it was just there, right behind me, standing over the body of the dying man. Its wide eyes moved slowly between me and him, as if assessing the better prey.

Crouched on the ground, I held out my bloody knife toward it. “Don’t you try anything, you fucker,” I whispered. “There will be plenty of fear for you to feed on tonight, but it won’t be mine.”

The creature’s eerie eyes locked on mine. Just from looking at it, fuzziness was creeping up the edges of my vision. Panic was swelling in my chest like a balloon. But I kept backing away. The Watcher ducked down, its long red fingers curled around the dying man’s skull as he stared up at it in horror. Slowly, it leaned closer, and there was a bizarre popping sound as its jaw began to open wide…then wider…

It took his whole head in its mouth.

I sprinted for the edge of the trees. Hopefully that would keep the monster occupied for a while. I began to crawl as I came up to the edge of the lawn, searching the yard for Jeremiah. It wasn’t hard to spot him: he was crouched over Zane, his hand locked tight around my demon’s throat.

I saw red. I stood, tucked away the knife, and pulled out the shotgun. It was fully loaded, and I had more ammo in my bag. If I had to put every last bullet straight into Jeremiah’s skull to kill him, then that’s what I’d do.

But he stood and faced me, right as I was about to shoot. He grinned and lifted his hand — dripping blood onto the grass.

Zane’s blood. My demon’s eyes were wide, their golden light dulled, his lips parted as he gasped for breath. There was a roaring in my ears like ocean waves, a sea of dread rushing to drown me.

Jeremiah was muttering something I couldn’t hear. I aimed right for his head.

“What the fuck did you do to him?” I yelled. “What did you do?”

“Careful, Juniper.” He smeared the blood over his face, casually sucking a fingertip clean. “I’ve made your demon useful.”

I looked down. For the first time, I noticed the strange ring around Zane, the grass burned down. More burn marks formed lines through the ring, creating a bizarre shape encircling his body.

The grass was still smoldering. In fact, the smoke was beginning to increase, but it didn’t seem to be from any flames. The smoke was rising from the ground itself.

“What the fuck…” Plumes of black smoke rose from the ground, ashy and harsh as I inhaled it. Jeremiah stepped back, still grinning wildly as the smoke obscured him. I was coughing, my throat burning. I was about to start firing blindly into the smoke, but Zane turned his head to look at me and tried to lift his hand.

“Go, Juniper.” His voice was rough, tight with pain. “It’s a Reaper…he’s summoning a Reaper…go…”

The smoke obscured him too. Then in the dark billowing smoke, something moved.

Something massive.