Page 25 of Soul Hate

“R enza?”

I’ve never been so pleased to feel my brain blistering.

Idris walks in. Every step he takes over the dirty floorboards is both a slap and a balm. The relief is so strong, I’m drunk on it. I ease back to my feet, the memory of his hands on my arms, my wrists, my lips, surges through me, stealing all thoughts, words, and reason. I close my eyes. The darkness helps. I can still feel him as he turns his back to me, fighting to control his breathing.

“Nouis,” I pant, oddly my breathing feels easier now he’s here, even if each lungful is scalding hot. “He’s coming. He’s coming to kill you.”

“When?” Idris doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t even sound scared.

“Sunset.”

“So now,” Idris swears. “Fine. I’ll put him down. I need my sword and you need somewhere to hide.”

Could he put Nouis down? Nouis is strong. A few scars on his arms tell me he’s been around blades before. He wouldn’t come to put down Idris by himself if he wasn’t confident with a sword.

Fate’s Fury, what if he kills Idris?

“You ran all the way here?” Idris asks, “To warn me?” His voice quiet and deep. My eyes shoot open when I realise: he’s right in front of me. I gasp, slammed with the reality that he’s barely a few inches away from me, his molten, hazel eyes scanning me from head to toe. He reaches for me, running his hands over my arms as if checking for himself. Those fingers weave a trail of exploding stars across my flesh that strangle any other sensation fighting for acknowledgement.

“Are you hurt?” he asks quietly.

My entire being pounds and throbs, my vision blurring out everything that isn’t him. I shake my head, my breath shallow and sharp, throat so thick I might never swallow properly again.

“Come on.” Idris grabs my hand. He guides me along the darkening docks. I keep my eyes on the water and the teetering boats as I try to fight my racing heart.

Idris is like a dark magnet just outside of my vision. A dark, pushing sensation that makes me want to turn away but at the same time drags me closer like an undercurrent.

The sun has all but vanished behind the skyline. The navy shadows encroach closer and closer. Stars start to pop out of their burrows in the sky. Stray dockworkers seem to have vanished, abandoning us amongst the ships. Idris guides me into another warehouse, searching for a threat.

I pause by the door as he makes a beeline for some boxes. I scan the empty street for signs of movement, waiting with bated breath for the danger that can’t be far away.

“Anything?” asks Idris, buckles jingling softly as he straps a sword around his hips.

“No,” I breathe, the air in my lungs suddenly cold.

“How did you find out about this?”

“I overheard them in Bellandi’s office.”

“You went there? Are you insane? After the jailbreak?” Idris’s outrage explodes from his lips like an attack. Every nerve singes and bristles.

“Giulia is missing. I was panicking.” I fight back the swollen sob in my words. “All reason left my body… I just acted.”

“How could you be so reckless?” Idris walks back towards the door, checking left and right down the street. “They could’ve caught you—they would’ve killed you.”

“Do you want to argue about what’s been done or talk about what I discovered?” I snap, glaring at the chipped floorboards.

“Fine what did you— Shh!” Idris stops dead. I freeze, breath turning to ice in my lungs.

Ships creak. Water babbles.

Idris slowly moves back towards the dock entrance. Treading as quietly as possible, listening keenly, I follow him down the outside of the warehouse. Flags flap. Our breaths whisper. Then, there it is.

Marching.

Idris grabs my hand and bolts.

“Faster. Faster!” Idris hisses.

“I’m trying!” I growl back, yanking my hand free. “I ran all the way here.”

When this is over, I’m going to exercise every day. I swear it.

Idris skids to a stop by one of the warehouses, throwing himself against its stone wall. I press myself flat against the crumbling stonework, fighting for air. Stamping boots and barking orders crack through the air as the Church Militia pour into the docks.

Looking for Idris.

Kicking down doors, they enter the warehouses. Slamming and crashing leaks through the stone between us and them.

Idris doesn’t flinch. I wish I could say the same. I close my eyes and clamp a hand over my mouth to quiet any rushed breaths as I fight to control my breathing. For once, Idris wasn’t the source of this.

“Hey, Renza, it’s alright,” Idris whispers quietly, his hand coming down to mine, still hanging at my side. His warm fingers wrap firmly around mine and goosebumps run up my arm like tiny bursting stars, “I’ll get you out of this. Just stick with me, alright?”

I pry my eyes open to meet his. The golden hazel might destroy me but right now sure as Fate I need the certainty lurking in them.

Idris slips towards the back of the warehouse, keeping his back against the brickwork. He moves smoothly and with confidence. I follow, trembling fingers running along the rough stone surface an inch behind him. My throat is thick. My breaths are shaky.

Around the back is a narrow alley, winding chaotically between warehouses. Barely one person wide, it’s disgusting. Coated with decades of grime and cluttered with rotting crates and grimy old fish traps. I clamp a hand over my mouth to keep myself from retching.

Taking care to step exactly where Idris does, we move quietly down to the end of the docks. Banging and smashing continues to echo through the warehouses, roaring voices demanding answers as they stamp over the wooden pontoons and walkways.

We reach the last warehouse and Idris pauses before stepping out into the street. I hurry after him, wanting to be free from the gunk and grime of that alleyway. The Church Militia are still busy in the docks behind us, their savage search still clattering through the night.

“Where now?” I croak.

“I know somewhere we can go. Then we can talk about?—”

Idris’s words die, the silence cracking like lightning. I spin around, spying a dark figure who’s just rounded a warehouse by the water’s edge. A short sword brandished in hand. A familiar man with dark hair, green eyes and a fitted fighting tunic in the style of the Holy States.

Idris’s hand leaps for his sword. The metal flashes in the moonlight as it springs free. I jump at the movement, heart throbbing in my throat.

Nouis’s malicious grin falters, green eyes locked on me. “Renza?” his face crinkles. “What are you doing here?”

My mind kicks into overdrive, the lie spilling forward so naturally.

“Patricelli asked to talk to me. Said it was urgent. I just got here. What is all this? Why are they destroying the docks?” I fold confusion into my words as I walk towards him. Fate’s Fury, I hope the desire to keep his charade with me will be enough.

“Quickly, Renza, come here!” Nouis commands, holding out his free hand for me. His eyes are beseeching. Sick to my core, I hurry over to keep my cover. Nouis’s warm touch is now revolting against my fingers. He pushes me behind him, facing Idris with a raised blade.

“Nouis?” I insist. “What is going on?”

“He did this. He blew up the city,” Nouis says quickly. “Think about it, he comes back and suddenly everything goes up in smoke? It’s too convenient. He wants it all—all the power for himself.”

Convincing. A few days ago I would’ve believed it.

Today I know better.

“The same could be said for you, Rizaro.” Idris seethes. “Suspicious, no?”

“Nouis saved me. He’s helped us. He pulled me from the fire.” I babble the same spiel I’ve been foolishly telling myself for days. The words feel rotten on my tongue.

Nouis stalks towards Idris. “Why else would the gods have made him your Soulhate, Renza? You love this city. Of course they made the man who wants to destroy it your enemy. They were trying to stop this. All of this.”

That’s low. Anger boils up my throat. I glare hatefully at the back of Nouis’s dark head.

“But we can fix it now.” Nouis smirks, before swinging at Idris. Their swords clash, again and again. Idris grunts; Nouis snarls. Their blades scream into the night as they grapple for the other’s death.

My breathing is fast and sharp. Every inch of my body wants to intervene. I need to stop this! What can I do? What should I do?

Frantically I look around, searching for something. Anything. For an answer to appear.

Idris forces Nouis back towards the water, every step of retreat making him growl in frustration. Every slam of metal sends a frozen bolt through my gut. Horror pools in my lungs. Idris ducks, and swings to catch Nouis’s leg. At the same time Nouis shallowly slices Idris’s arm.

“No!” I scream. That catches Idris off guard, head snapping to look at me. Nouis swings, and Idris only just manages to catch it and sweep the blow high.

Both their swords are locked high above their heads, arms straining with the effort. Nouis growls, barging forward to body shove Idris hard against the stone warehouse wall. The slam of Idris’s head on the large bricks turns my stomach, and vomit surges up my throat.

Idris drops to the floor, sword clanging as it kisses the stone.

Nouis raises his blade to finish the job.

No.

Every touch. Every word. Every kiss.

It was all poison.

My brain goes blank. My hand wraps around the dagger on my hip, holding it exactly like he showed me.

The blade flashes with teeth of silver as I drive it into Nouis’s back. I yank it out, gasping, panting, crying, as rage chokes around my throat. I slam it back down. Then again. Tears stream down my face as I stab and keep stabbing, hoping I’ll hit his heart. Blood sprays across my face, soaking through my trembling fingertips.

Nouis roars in pain and drops to his knees, the sword slipping from his grip.

Gasping, I step back. My fingers are shaking and sticky with hot crimson flecks. My childhood friend and confidante. My family welcomed him into our home freely and warmly. Tearfully, I glare at the traitor at my feet.

Betrayal washes over Nouis’s face.

“Renza?” he whispers before toppling sideways. His body flops over the wooden edge, slipping between the ships to be swallowed by the tumbling black waters.

He was there. Then he wasn’t.

Gone.

Dead.

My hand is still raised. My eyes are still fixed on Nouis’s cold, dark, watery grave.

He’s dead.

I killed him.

I did this.

The crashing of the Church Militia in the warehouses cracks like a whip.

“Fate’s Fury, what have I done? Bellandi will know we’re on to him now,” I stammer to the empty air, hiccups crawling up my throat. My breaths come short and fast. Shaking on the spot, I can’t work out what to do next. Blood coats my palms and is speckled across my face.

We need to run. We need to get away.

I turn, gritting my teeth to see Idris crumpled against the base of the wall. A trail of blood pours down the side of his golden face.

I freeze, staring at his unconscious form. Half his angular face is smeared with scarlet, his floppy blond hair dripping into little puddles. His chest rises and falls.

I could do it. Crawl on top, wrap my fingers around. He’s unconscious; it would be so damn easy…

I snap my eyes away gasping. I raise a hand to my face, giving myself a sharp slap. No. I need him.

Marching heavy boots start coming this way. Fate really does hate me .

I grit my teeth, making the snap decision to grab him. Damn it, why did he have to be so tall? Grabbing his wrists, I yank as hard as I can, dragging a mass of muscles backwards down the dark alley we just left. Gasping for breath, my body straining with effort, I desperately search for a hiding spot. Somewhere they wouldn’t dream to look for us.

My pulse rings in my ears. My hands are sweating. Sucking deep breaths, I look anywhere—anywhere but the person I’m dragging with me. Panting, I search for cover, then I see it. The gutters. Shallow gutters run across all the streets in Halice, but this is a big one—a main one. More than large enough for us both! I run over, grabbing hold of the barred metal covering, I haul it to one side, opening up the narrow passage down to the sewers.

I take a steadying breath, turning to grab Idris. I shove him with all my strength, pushing his well-built body into the smelly hole in the ground.

“Look a sword, and blood! Someone’s close. Who’s there? Come out now!” The Militia are barely paces away. Ten more seconds and they’ll see me. I dive for the metal covering, my pulse screaming in my ears as I dive down the hole, feet slipping over the cold, steel ladder. I grip on tightly, pulling the metal grate back into place over my head. I freeze, as the orange of their torches highlights the metal bars.

My breath comes shallow and sharp. I’m all but hugging the ladder rungs as I hear their heavy boots marching around upstairs. My heart spasms in my throat. My blood turns to ice.

They pass.

Fate’s Mercy, the relief is so strong I almost lose grip on the ladder.

I drop the three rungs to the bottom.

Patricelli lies unceremoniously in the pale light from above. He’s at such an angle, he could be dead. His face is slack, blood slowly spreading over his perfect features. I shudder. My skin crawls.

Kill him. Kill him.

My fingers would slide so easily around his neck. It’ll be easy, and it would be over. I could leave him here. No one would know. No one would ever suspect.

He deserves it.

“No!” I sob. I grip my head, throwing myself against the grimy, dirty sewer wall. I slide down it, my nails digging into my skull.

Why? Why am I thinking these awful things?

Because you want it.

“No! No! I won’t,” I sob, gasping for breath as I war with myself. I’m a monster. I killed Nouis. Now I want to kill Idris.

I’m a murderer. I’m a killer.

“Renza?”

That voice is so soft. So kind. So familiar.

My head darts up, locking with a familiar set of brown eyes. Tears spill down my face in relief at my rescuer. Serra crouches in front of me, a glass covered candle in hand. She wraps her arms around and pulls me close.

“Help me,” I beg.