Page 28 of Caelum

TWENTY-SEVEN

FRAZER

Sin Eating was no fun.

In fact, of all the souls, it was the hardest.

There were no advantages to it, no extra abilities that were perks. We could do one thing and one thing only: eradicate Ghouls.

To many, that probably seemed like the best gift of them all. But it wasn’t, and as Ghoul goo covered me from the last son of a bitch that had exploded when I’d gone hunting for its soul, I wished like fuck I was a Hell Hound.

Shit, I’d even settle for Incubus. That had to be better than this shit.

Even though the body of the male on the ground before me looked like it had gone a round with an AK 47, with more of the dude’s insides on the outside than should be possible, I still had to go hunting.

A Ghoul wouldn’t die until its sins were eaten. The guy on the ground was awake and aware even though his body was a mass of blood and entrails. It was fucked up, but I was used to it.

It wasn’t like the zombie movies. The SOB wouldn’t be able to get up and walk around with half a torso missing. But he’d just lie there. For an eternity.

It creeped me out to think about how many Ghouls were currently buried alive in crypts around the world. In fact, it did more than creep me out. It made me feel fucking sick.

The souls resided in the brain. Not in the heart like the religions wanted you to think. There was the cerebral equivalent of a storage locker where they were contained, and the reason this motherfucker had exploded was because he was rocking three souls.

The second one, a Vampire because they were stubborn motherfuckers, had clung on so tight to its host that it had triggered the body’s explosion. The soul had fucked with the man’s brain to the extent that his heart had exploded and his arteries too.

Which was why I was currently looking like an extra from a horror movie.

Fuck, makeup artists wished they were this good.

The third soul was easier to get a hold of. Loreleis didn’t like letting go, but they weren’t as centric on the body. Vampires ate blood, were of the body, and so they tended to cause the most Ghoul goo.

My brain whirred and an ache stirred in my temple, way too early on in the night, as I sought to connect with the Lorelei.

Sin Eaters were unusual.

We were the weakest link in a team, but without us, there was no Pack.

My gift only stirred to life at this moment, when I attempted to eradicate a Ghoul, and my soul basically mimicked the one I was putting on the chopping block.

I reeled off the Latin words that would entice the Lorelei to the surface, and I knew it had worked when, through the destroyed throat and mouth, the Ghoul tried to speak. Tried to entice me.

When it was out in the open, I hovered over the male’s mouth and tried not to vomit at the stench coming off of him.

Baring my teeth, I inhaled deeply, sucking on the soul, drawing it out. The Ghoul struggled, well aware of what I was doing, but it was too late. The Lorelei reacted to me like I was a magnet.

As I sucked it into me, swallowing it down like I’d swallowed a steak earlier, I jumped up and headed onto the next one.

It was disgusting, dirty work but somebody had to do it.

A gargling sound grabbed my attention, and I quickly scanned the Ghouls. Holding onto my taser in case one of the motherfuckers was going to wake up and go on the hunt with me in its crosshairs, I saw none of them stirring.

In the shadows up ahead, in front of a wooden building, I saw something wriggling on the floor.

Concerned it was a stirring Ghoul that needed to be contained, I rushed over and grunted when I saw the torn-out throat, aware it was one of our own.

Lifting my receiver to my mouth, I rasped out, “Man down.” Quickly looking at my phone for my location, I blurted that into the receiver too, but as I stared down at Nestor, one of Stefan’s Pack, I knew it was too late for outside help.

It was down to me or the dude was going to die.

Squatting at his side, I grabbed a hold of his hands. His muscles were weak, and I knew he’d been trying to stem the blood loss, but with that level of damage as well as the beating he’d endured, it wasn’t going to happen.

“What soul are you today?”

“Vampire,” he rasped. The two-syllable word was drawn out into four.

Relief filled me. “Then it’s your lucky day, you jammy son of a bitch.”