Page 16 of Soulmarked (Hellbound and Hollow #1)

15

GHOSTS OF THE PAST

D awn crept through Sean's warehouse windows like an unwelcome guest, painting everything in shades of grey and regret. My neck ached from hours hunched over case files and ancient texts, and the floor around us looked like a paper bomb had detonated. Somewhere between midnight and morning, our investigation into Phoenix had devolved into a maze of dead ends and coffee cups.

I stretched, trying to work out the kinks in my shoulders. Sean had disappeared into his kitchen a few minutes ago, the soft clink of mugs suggesting more caffeine was coming. The familiar domesticity of it all felt dangerous, this easy rhythm we'd fallen into despite ourselves.

A soft brush against my leg made me freeze. I looked down to find myself being studied by a pair of sapphire eyes set in a magnificent cloud of grey and white fur. The Himalayan cat regarded me with aristocratic disdain, as if questioning my right to exist in her domain.

“What the hell?” I muttered, staring at the unexpected feline. The cat, because of course Sean, deadly hunter of supernatural threats, had a fancy cat, simply yawned and settled between me and a stack of demon lore.

“Her name's Roxie.” Sean's voice carried from the kitchen. “And she doesn't like most people, so consider yourself honored.”

“You have a cat.” I couldn't quite keep the disbelief from my voice. “A fancy cat.”

“Everyone needs someone to come home to.” He emerged with fresh coffee, and I caught something almost soft in how he looked at Roxie. It was jarring, this glimpse of gentleness from someone I'd seen decapitate monsters without blinking.

“Even ruthless hunters?”

“Especially ruthless hunters.” He handed me a mug, our fingers brushing briefly. “Though if you tell anyone about her, I'll have to kill you.”

“Your secret's safe with me.” I watched him settle back against the wall, noting how the early light caught the silver in his hair. The comfortable silence stretched between us, broken only by Roxie's quiet purring.

Maybe it was the lack of sleep, or maybe it was seeing this unexpectedly gentle side of him, but the question that had been burning in my mind for weeks finally slipped out.

“Tell me about Eli.”

The change was instant. Sean went completely still, that predatory stillness that usually preceded violence. “How do you know that name?”

The file hadn't been easy to find. CITD didn't typically investigate overseas incidents, especially ones officially classified as animal attacks. But a series of deaths in London that matched a pattern I'd been tracking had led me to requisition files from British intelligence. That's where I'd found it, a case labeled as an unsolved homicide, with witness statements mentioning two men were at the scene. One dead, throat torn out. One survivor, described only as “Irish male, late twenties.” The file included grainy CCTV footage showing a man who could only be Sean, carrying someone out of an alley, covered in blood not his own.

After meeting Sean, I'd run his face through our database and found a match with that footage. From there, I'd pieced together more details through unofficial channels, a contact at Interpol who owed me a favor, and a partially redacted police report that mentioned the name Eli Quinn. When I discovered Sean had arrived in New York shortly after the London incident, the connection became clear. Even with limited information, I could tell this was the event that had shaped him, turned him into the hunter I'd met.

“Federal agent,” I said quietly, meeting his gaze steadily.

“You looked into my past.” His voice carried an edge sharp enough to cut. “Went digging where you weren't invited.”

“It's what I do.” I kept my tone neutral, professional. “Found the case file. Listed as an unsolved homicide in London, five years ago.”

“Stop.” The word held warning, but also something else. Pain, maybe. Or fear. “Some doors shouldn't be opened, fed.”

“Doors like the ones Phoenix is trying to break through?” I pressed, knowing I was pushing dangerous ground. “Or doors like whatever happened that night in London?”

Sean's jaw tightened, and for a moment I thought he might throw me out. But Roxie chose that moment to climb into his lap, her presence seeming to ground him. His hand moved automatically to stroke her fur, the gesture almost unconscious.

“You really want to do this?” he asked finally, voice rough. “Want to dig up ghosts that should stay buried?”

“I want to understand.” I set my coffee aside, giving him my full attention. “Because whatever happened that night, it changed how you hunt. Changed how you trust.”

A bitter laugh escaped him. “Trust? That's what you think this is about?”

“Isn't it?” I met his gaze steadily. “You work alone, keep everyone at arm's length. Even Skye, who clearly cares about you, only gets so close.”

“And what makes you think you deserve closer?” There was challenge in his voice, but also something else. Something almost vulnerable.

“Because we're in this together now.” I gestured at the mess of research surrounding us.

Sean was quiet for a long moment, absently petting Roxie while he studied me. The silence stretched until I thought he wouldn't answer.

“I met him at Hallow, actually.” Sean's voice carried a distance I hadn't heard before. “Eli Quinn. Fresh recruit, full of ideas about how we could do things differently. Reform the old ways.” His laugh held no humor. “Should've been my first warning, yeah? Anyone wanting to change centuries of tradition.”

“What do you mean?”

“He thought like you.” Sean's eyes met mine, sharp with accusation. “Always looking for the grey areas, always wanting to understand the monsters instead of just killing them.” He shifted, dislodging Roxie who glared at him before stalking away. “Thought we could be better than just weapons. Thought we could make actual change.”

“And that's a bad thing?”

“It's a dead thing.” Sean stood abruptly, pacing like a caged predator. “We started small, questioning protocols, suggesting alternatives. Then we began running unofficial missions, trying to prove monsters could be reasoned with.”

“Like what I've been doing with CITD,” I said quietly.

“Exactly like that.” His voice cracked with sudden anger. “Playing both sides, thinking you know better than everyone who came before. Just like he did.”

I felt my own temper rise. “Maybe because some of us see there's more to this than just killing everything supernatural.”

“And how's that working out?” Sean rounded on me. “How many bodies have dropped while you try to understand things that just want to tear your throat out?”

“Better than leaving a trail of corpses without even trying to tell the difference!”

“There is no difference!” His accent thickened with emotion. “That's what Eli thought too. Right up until...” He cut himself off, hands clenched.

“Until what?” I pushed, knowing I was prodding dangerous ground.

“You want to know what happened?” Sean's voice dropped dangerously low. “Fine. We tracked this thing for weeks. Ancient, powerful, could pass for human better than anything we'd seen. But it was killing people, precisely, carefully, like it was studying them.”

“Aye, just like now. And Eli, brilliant, hopeful Eli, thought we could talk to it. Thought it was different because it was intelligent.” His laugh was bitter enough to cut. “He was right about that part. It was smart enough to play us perfectly.”

“What happened?” I asked, though part of me didn't want to know.

“We cornered it in this old church. All gothic architecture and fancy words about understanding each other.” Sean's hands were shaking slightly. “It seemed so reasonable. Talked about peace, about bridging worlds. Said all the right things.”

“Like the vampires working with Phoenix.”

“Don't.” The word cracked like a whip. “Don't try to make this about now. This is about what happens when you trust things that aren't meant to be trusted.”

“Or maybe it's about being too afraid to see when things could be different!”

“Different?” Sean's voice rose. “You want to know different? How about watching someone you love get torn apart while they're still trying to negotiate? How about holding them while they bleed out, still believing they could've made a difference?”

“And what about the ones who help us?” I demanded. “What about...” I caught myself before mentioning my own mark, my own connection to things Sean would consider monsters.

“What about what?” His eyes narrowed. “What aren't you telling me, fed?”

“Nothing.” But the lie felt hollow, even to me.

“Bullshit.” Sean moved closer, all predator grace and barely contained violence. “You've been hiding something since we met. Something about why the vampires called you 'marked one.' Something about why supernatural creatures react to you differently.”

“I can't.” The words scraped my throat. “I can't tell you.”

“Can't or won't?”

“Does it matter?”

“Aye, it fucking matters!” His fist slammed into the wall beside my head. “Because I've seen this before. Seen what happens when secrets and monsters mix. And I won't watch it happen again.”

We were toe to toe now, close enough that I could see the flecks of gold in his eyes, the way anger and fear warred in his expression. Something electric crackled in the space between us, rage or attraction or both.

“Then walk away,” I said quietly. “If you can't trust me, if you can't believe things might be different this time, walk away.”

“Different?” His laugh held no humor. “The only difference is I see it coming this time. See you making all the same mistakes he did. Thinking you can change things, reform the system, make peace with monsters.”

“Maybe I can.”

“Maybe you'll die trying. Just like...” He cut himself off, but the words hung between us anyway. Just like Eli.

The silence stretched, heavy with everything we weren't saying. Finally, I reached for his hand where it still pressed against the wall. His skin was warm, callused from weapons and combat. He didn't pull away.

“I'm not Eli,” I said softly. “And whatever you think I'm hiding, whatever you're afraid of... it's not the same.”

“No?” His voice was rough. “Then tell me. Tell me what makes you so sure you can trust these creatures. Tell me what makes you different.”

I couldn't. The mark on my chest burned with the truth I couldn't share, not yet, maybe not ever. Because if Sean knew what I really was, what had saved me that night when I was eight... everything would change.

“I can't,” I said again, and watched something close off in his eyes.

He pulled away, and the loss of contact felt like a physical wound. “Then we're done here.”

“Sean...”

“No.” He moved to gather the scattered research, movements sharp with controlled anger. “You want me to trust you? Want me to believe things can be different? Then stop lying to me. Stop pretending you're not hiding something that could get us both killed.”

“It's not that simple.”

“It never is with you.” He straightened, and his smile was all edges. “But here's what is simple, I won't watch another partner die because they thought they knew better than everyone else. So either tell me the truth, or we keep this professional. Your choice.”

The ultimatum hung between us like a blade. I thought about telling him everything. But the memory of his words about monsters, about never trusting anything supernatural...

“I can't,” I said for the third time, and watched the last warmth fade from his expression.

“Right then.” He moved toward the door, all hunter grace and careful distance. “We've got work to do. Phoenix isn't going to wait while we sort out trust issues.”

“That's it? We're just going to pretend this conversation never happened?”

“No.” He paused at the threshold. “We're going to do our jobs, stop whatever's coming, and then go our separate ways. Because that's what professionals do.”

The words hung in the air like smoke, heavy with everything left unsaid. I opened my mouth to respond when the warehouse door exploded inward with enough force to rattle windows.

A man in an impeccably tailored suit swept in like he owned the place, radiating the kind of confidence that usually meant someone was either very dangerous or very dead. Today, I suspected both.

“Alejo de la Cruz,” he announced, dark eyes sparkling with mischief as he extended a perfectly manicured hand. “Lex to those who don't want their throats torn out. He/him pronouns, and you must be the federal agent who's gotten our Sean all worked up.”

“Cade Cross,” I replied, noting how Sean's shoulders tensed at Lex's entrance. “CITD.”

“Oh, I know exactly who you are.” Lex's grin was sharp enough to cut.

“For fuck's sake, Lex. There's this thing called knocking.”

“Boring.” Lex swept into the room, taking in the scattered research and lingering tension with sharp eyes. “Besides, this couldn't wait. We found something.” He paused, dark eyes moving between us. “Did I interrupt a moment? Please tell me I interrupted a moment.”

“You interrupted nothing,” Sean growled, but I caught the way his shoulders tensed. “What did you find?”

I moved to gather the scattered papers, grateful for the distraction. The mark on my chest still burned with unspoken truths, but there was work to be done. Personal revelations would have to wait.

“Phoenix's pattern.” Lex pulled out a tablet, fingers dancing across the screen. “And it's more deliberate than we thought.”

Holograms sprang to life, filling the air with glowing data points and geometric patterns. A map of Manhattan emerged, overlaid with pulsing red markers that made my stomach clench. Each point corresponded to a site we'd identified, churches, abandoned buildings, places of power.

The pentagram pattern we'd discovered earlier was now augmented with new data points, energy readings, temporal anomalies, and victim locations.

“Son of a bitch,” Sean breathed, his eyes fixed on something I hadn't noticed yet.

I followed his gaze and felt my blood run cold. The pentagram wasn't just a static symbol, it was evolving. Faint purple lines radiated from each point, creating a secondary pattern within the original star. And at the intersections of these new lines...

“It's not just a conventional summoning circle,” I said, the horrible realization dawning. “It's a dimensional anchor. Look at these energy signatures.” I pointed to the readings hovering beside each marker. “They're not just opening a simple portal, they're weakening the barriers between our world and Hell itself.”

I traced the pattern forming across the map, feeling my mark burn cold at the implications. “Phoenix's headquarters isn't at the center by accident. It's the focal point where all the dimensional weaknesses converge.”

“Whatever they're bringing through,” Sean's voice was grim, “exists in the deepest part of Hell. The kind of ancient demon that requires blood sacrifice and ritual energy to break through the barriers that were specifically created to contain it.”

“Give the fed a prize.” Lex's usual playful tone was gone, replaced by something grimmer. “But that's not even the worst part. Look at these sites specifically.” He highlighted several points. “What do they have in common?”

Sean moved closer to study the data, and I felt the heat of him even from feet away. Professional distance was harder when the world was ending.

“They're all places of suffering,” he said finally. “Sites where terrible things happened. Mass deaths, violent crimes...”

“Places where the barrier between worlds is already thin,” I finished. “They're using tragedy as a power source.”

“Exactly.” Lex pulled up another overlay, this one showing energy readings that made my head ache just looking at them. “Each site is like a battery, charged with decades of pain and death. And Phoenix is tapping into all of them simultaneously.”

“To power whatever they're trying to bring through,” Sean muttered. He still wouldn't look at me directly, but his voice held that focused intensity I'd come to recognize.

“And what better power source than human suffering?” Lex's smirked. “They've been planning this for years. Buying properties, setting up shell companies, all to access these specific locations.”

I studied the pattern, trying to ignore how Sean's presence seemed to fill any space he occupied. “There's something else. Look at the timing of the acquisitions. They didn't just choose these sites randomly. They're moving in a specific sequence.”

“Like a combination lock,” Sean said, and damn him for still being able to follow my thoughts even when he was angry with me. “Each site has to be activated in order.”

I studied the holographic map, falling into the methodical analysis that had built my reputation at CITD. The previous ritual sites were clearly marked, five locations activated in a precise sequence. I traced the pattern of demonic activity, searching for the underlying logic guiding their selection.

“See these spectral signatures?” I said, highlighting the data points. “Each location bears the same demonic imprint, growing more intense with each completed ritual. They're systematically accumulating power, following this pattern around the pentagram.”

The next target became clear as I followed the progression. The ritual was methodically charging each point of the star, and only one significant location aligned with the next position in the sequence.

“Here. The old psychiatric hospital on Roosevelt Island. It's the next point in the sequence.”

“Perfect location,” Lex agreed. “Decades of pain and suffering soaked into those walls. Plus, it's isolated enough for whatever ritual they're planning.”

“Then that's where we'll be.” Sean's voice carried the kind of certainty that usually preceded violence. “When?”

Lex checked his tablet. “Based on these energy readings? Tonight. The lunar cycle peaks at midnight.”

“Of course it does,” I muttered. “Because why make it easy?”

“Where would be the fun in that?” Lex's grin returned, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. “I'll coordinate with Skye, get surveillance set up. You two...” He glanced between us meaningfully. “Try not to kill each other before then? Sexual tension is one thing, but we need you both functional.”

“Lex,” Sean's warning carried enough edge to cut glass.

“Going, going.” He headed for the door, then paused. “But seriously. Whatever's happening here?” He gestured vaguely at the space between Sean and me. “Figure it out. Because we're going to need both of you at your best tonight.”

The door closed behind him with surprising gentleness, leaving Sean and me alone again. The tension crackled back to life, but different now, weighted with purpose and the promise of violence to come.

“He's right,” I said finally, keeping my voice neutral. “We need to be able to work together.”

“Aye.” Sean still wouldn't look at me directly, but his posture shifted slightly. Less hostile, more resigned. “Professional, like I said.”

“Professional,” I agreed, ignoring how the word tasted like ash. “So what's the play?”

He finally met my eyes, and for a moment I caught a glimpse of what we might have been. Then his expression closed off again, all business.

“We scout the location, set up surveillance. Work the perimeter, identify entry and exit points.” His voice was pure hunter now, focused and deadly. “Then we stop whatever ritual they're planning and kill anything that tries to break through.”

“Simple as that?”

“Simple as that.” But there was something in his tone, not quite regret, but close. “We do the job, we go our separate ways. Just like professionals.”

I nodded, though everything in me wanted to argue. Wanted to tell him the truth, consequences be damned. But he was right, we had a job to do. Personal revelations would have to wait.