Page 53 of Jagged Souls

I tense, guilt twisting my stomach. When we attacked Antonio’s men at the crocodile park a few hours ago, Rudy fought one of the hybrids on his own. He was cut to pieces, mauled, bitten, damn near torn in half; if he were anyone else, he’d be dead. But he’s terrified of being stuck alive in a body that’s long since died, so he turned his own nightmare into reality. He won that fight, but it cost him too much.

When he helped me reach the site of Micha’s abduction, with one arm around my waist, practically walking for me, I could feel his magic boiling beneath his skin. Normally, he would hide in the Plane of Monsters for weeks, maybe even months while he regained control of it, but with my wife missing, he’s stayed here to help.

“No... How is he?”

I push out with my senses, searching for his heartbeat. It is easier for me to detect now with my curse broken, but I don’t relax when I find it beating calmly. It should be erratic like it always is when he’s on the verge of losing control.

“Stormie wrapped him in a shield,” Khalid says, his jaw tight. He doesn’t need to say anything more for me to know what happened.

Stormie Green, the daughter of an old family friend (now dead), became engaged to Enoch for a political alliance. She grew up with the twins and was a firecracker, always rough housing with them before she hit her ascension and was taught how to be a lady. One day, after she learned how to control her shielding magic, Rudy roped her into helping him do something stupid. He damn near gave me a heart attack then, and I feel like I’m suffering one now.

Spinning on my heels, I head for his bedroom and enter without knocking. My heart is lodged so far up my throat, I am choking on it.

“Are you –” I start to shout, but then I find him sleeping.

He looks peaceful for once.

I just know what that peace has cost him.

Breathing out hard, my body shuddering, I walk over to him. I sit down on the edge of his bed, knowing he’s out cold. There have only been two times in his life that I’ve seen him at peace. When Stormie shielded him as a kid and now.

“Fucking hel, Roo,” I mutter as I stroke his red curly hair like I used to do when he was a kid. For once, his head isn’t damp with night terrors.

The first time I saw him sleeping like this, I was so happy for him. I finally got a night’s sleep myself, having been up in his room every night previous, protecting him from the horrors of his mind as his magic pulsed out of control. But then I found outhowhe’d been able to find such peace, and I nearly killed Stormie for it.

She’s a shielder, able to wrap her magic around people so nothing can escape the bubble – not their body, their own magic, or even any monsters they call forth. But she can only stop that power from escaping; she can’t stop it from manifesting.

When I cornered her for answers that first time, having found her shaking and vomiting and looking close to death, she told me that inside her bubble, Rudy had released every nightmare, every fear, every agonizing terror his mind could come up with. He had lived a hundred deaths, watched us all die in a thousand different ways. He’d been raped and beaten and eaten alive – then all three at once. He was set on fire, beheaded, strangled with his own intestines. The entire bubble filled with rats and snakes, and when they ran out of space, they started to eat their way into his body. And those were all the ‘easy’ things.

When it got too much, Stormie turned the shield opaque to protect her own mind. She refused to speak of the last thing she saw. His torment went on for hours after that.

He did it then so I could have a single night’s rest.

He did it now so I could rely on him in the coming war, so he wouldn’t have to hide in the Plane of Shadows while we fought this battle without him.

“I’m supposed to be the one protecting you,” I mutter.

Yet another thing I’ve failed at recently.

Feeling so damn tired, I’m tempted to lie down beside him. I used to share his bed when he was a kid, jerking awake every time he flinched or whimpered. It was one of the most stressful times of my life, and yet, listening to him sleep was sometimes the only way I could fall asleep myself.

I give his shoulder a squeeze, then climb to my feet. As much as sleep calls to me, I can’t rest until I save my wife.

Thirteen

HIM

I make my way to the garage. Enoch and Ezriel have been cleaning up the yard and have moved those “lucky” enough to have survived Mother’s monsters into the cells hidden beneath the building. When the trapdoor is shut, you can’t hear their screams of pain or cries for help, but at the moment, it’s been left open, and wails and howls and little pathetic whimpers echo up the stairs.

They know something worse than death is coming for them.

I head down into the harshly lit room, the bulbs so bright as to hurt the eyes. But though it’s bad for me, it’s worse for the wolves. Despite being born on Earth, their kind evolved on a world that never sees true sunlight due to a constant coverage of clouds.

Around two to four pups lie in each of the three cells. Normally, it’s one person each, but these are not hardened soldiers, an elite task force that was trained to fight Mother. These are nothing but rogue pups that were promised a position in Antonio’s pack if they fought well. They weren’t even told we were the target; else, they wouldn’t have come. All they are is cannon fodder. I doubt they will know any of Antonio’s secrets, but if there’s a chance one of them has overheard something they shouldn’t have, I need to check.

“Heal me… please,” a young mutt begs as he lies on his side on the floor, scooping up his spilled intestines with shaky hands. He pushes them into the hole in his stomach, but they keep falling back out. He needs to lie on his back to have a chance of keeping them in, but even then, his odds of survival without a healer are slim. He’s lost too much blood, his skin pale and sweating. “Please…”

Cries for mercy flood the place.