Page 8 of Soulmarked (Hellbound and Hollow #1)

7

BLOOD TRAIL

T he church loomed before us like a wound in the night, its Gothic spires reaching up to claw at the low-hanging clouds. Even from across the street, I could feel something wrong radiating from the building. This wasn't just another abandoned house of worship. Something else had made its home here.

“You feel it too.” Sean's voice was low, barely a whisper as we approached from the shadows. It wasn't a question.

I nodded, scanning the perimeter with practiced efficiency. CITD's intel had flagged this place, one of several historic churches Phoenix Pharmaceuticals had quietly acquired through shell companies. The official story was urban renewal, preserving architectural heritage. But the millions they'd poured into this particular building hadn't gone toward restoration.

“Back entrance,” Sean murmured, already moving. “Amateur mistake to go in the main doors.”

I followed, noting how he moved. The hunter didn't hesitate or second-guess, just flowed from shadow to shadow with lethal grace. I had to admit, however grudgingly, that there was something impressive about his certainty. Even if it made me want to punch him sometimes.

The air grew heavier as we approached, carrying a sharp metallic tang that made my stomach clench. Blood. Fresh blood. My mark pulsed in response, a deep ache spreading through my chest. Something about this place was setting it off worse than usual.

“You okay there, fed?” Sean glanced back, eyes narrowing. “You're looking a bit peaky.”

“I'm fine.” I kept my voice steady, professional. “Focus on the job.”

He studied me for a moment longer than necessary, like he was trying to solve a puzzle. “Right. Because you're always fine when your hand keeps touching that spot on your chest. Very convincing.”

I forced my hand away, not even realizing I'd been doing it. “You always this chatty on a hunt?”

“Only when my temporary partner is hiding something that might get us both killed.” His smile was sharp enough to cut. “But sure, let's pretend everything's normal.”

We reached the back door. It wasn't forced as the heavy oak stood slightly ajar, like something had been invited in. A security camera mounted above had been deliberately turned away, its red light blinking steadily into empty space.

“Well, that's not suspicious at all,” I muttered.

Sean drew one of his many knives, silver-edged, if I had to guess. “After you, fed. Since you're so fine and all.”

I shot him a look that could have frozen hell, but moved forward anyway. The door opened silently on well-oiled hinges, revealing the church's cavernous interior. Moonlight filtered through the stained-glass windows, fracturing into shards of crimson and azure across the stone floor. The effect should have been beautiful. Instead, it felt like stepping into the maw of a dormant predator, the silence too complete, the shadows too deliberate, as if the very architecture was designed to lure rather than welcome.

The pews stretched toward the altar in neat rows, covered in a thick layer of dust except for recent footprints cutting through the grey film. The air was dense with the smell of blood now, fresh enough that I could almost taste it on my tongue. My mark burned in response, sending tendrils of heat through my chest.

That's when I saw the body.

He was slumped against the wall near the vestibule, security guard uniform dark with spreading blood. His throat was a ragged mess, torn open with savage efficiency. One hand still clutched his radio, never had a chance to call for help.

Sean moved past me, crouching to check the guard's wrist with practiced detachment. “Still warm. Can't have been dead more than ten minutes.”

I forced myself to look away from the dead man's face, to focus on details that mattered. Security cameras blinked red from strategic points around the sanctuary, active, recording. Someone was watching.

“This isn't right,” I said, studying the guard's wounds. “Vampire feeds are usually cleaner than this. They don't typically waste blood.”

“Because this wasn't about feeding.” Sean stood, wiping his fingers on his jeans. “This was about sending a message. Or maybe a test.”

“Testing what?”

His eyes met mine, serious for once. “How fast we'd show up.”

The implications of that sank in like ice water in my veins. If this was a trap, we were already inside it. I drew my gun, loaded with Sean's silver rounds, and tried to ignore how the mark's burning had intensified.

“Downstairs,” Sean said, nodding toward a door half-hidden behind the altar. “That's where they'll be. Old churches like this always have crypts or catacombs. Perfect spot for whatever ritual they're planning.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You seem awfully familiar with church architecture.”

“Used to be Catholic.” His smile was all edges. “Didn't take.”

We moved toward the door, and I couldn't shake the feeling that we were being herded. Everything about this felt staged, the open door, the fresh kill, the obvious trail leading us deeper. But what choice did we have?

The door opened onto a narrow stone stairwell, descending into darkness thick enough to swallow our flashlight beams. The air grew colder with each step, heavy with the weight of centuries. My mark throbbed in time with my heartbeat, a steady pulse of heat and warning.

“You know,” Sean's voice drifted back, barely above a whisper, “usually when someone's obviously hiding something that makes them react to supernatural energy, they mention it to their partner before walking into a potential ambush.”

I kept my voice equally low. “We're not partners.”

“No? Then what would you call this little arrangement?”

“Temporary inconvenience.”

His soft laugh echoed off the stone walls. “Fair enough.”

A sound drifted up from below, chanting, low and rhythmic. Latin, maybe, but older. Much older.

Sean went still, head cocked like a predator scenting prey. “You hear that?”

I nodded, though he couldn't see it in the dark. “Ritual magic. Strong enough to affect the air pressure down here.”

“Look at you, all knowledgeable about the dark arts.” His voice carried an edge of something, not quite suspicion, but close. “They teach that at Quantico?”

“Do you ever shut up?”

“Only when something's trying to kill me. Speaking of which...” He gestured ahead with his knife. “Ladies first.”

I bit back a retort and moved forward, every sense straining. The stairwell opened into a larger chamber, and the chanting grew louder. Red light pulsed from somewhere ahead, casting twisted shadows on ancient stone.

A sharp crash echoed from the main sanctuary, shattering the tense silence. My hand moved to my gun, but I held off drawing it. Years of martial arts training had taught me that sometimes the best weapon was no weapon at all. Beside me, Sean had already pulled one of his countless blades, the silver edge catching what little light filtered through the stained glass.

“Ten bucks says it's not a raccoon,” he muttered.

“Twenty says you make this worse somehow.”

His grin was quick and fierce in the darkness. “Only twenty? You're losing your edge, fed.”

We moved in sync toward the sound, and I had to admit that Sean knew his business. Where my movements were precise, measured from years of training, his were pure predator. Like violence given form, flowing from shadow to shadow with lethal grace.

The nave stretched before us, moonlight painting abstract patterns through the dusty air. That's when we saw it, a creature sliding between the pews. The movement was wrong, too fluid, like watching water flow uphill.

“Well, shit,” Sean whispered. “That's new.”

Slow applause echoed through the chamber. A figure stood at the altar, crisp suit incongruous against the ancient stone. Blood stained its collar, fresh enough to glisten in the moonlight. Vampire. But not like any I'd seen before.

“Well,” it purred, voice carrying that distinctive accent of the truly ancient. “A hunter and an agent. How... inconvenient.”

I barely heard the taunt. My attention was on the four creatures that emerged to flank it. They moved like marionettes with cut strings, skin gray and translucent enough to see the shadows of bone beneath. Their eyes were hollow pits of absolute darkness, jaws hanging slightly wrong, filled with too many teeth arranged in patterns that hurt to look at.

“The fuck are those?” Sean muttered, shifting his stance with predatory grace, hands already finding the silver-tipped knives at his thighs.

A cold sensation prickled across my skin, it was a familiar feeling that flooded my senses whenever I was near the supernatural. I could see it now, the vampire's aura, a sickly purple haze that clung to its form like toxic smoke, pulsing with ancient malice. Its minions radiated the same corrupted energy, but fainter, like pale reflections of their master.

I kept my voice steady, professional.

“Step away from the equipment.”

Ancient tech surrounded the altar. Whatever ritual they'd been planning, it wasn't happening tonight.

The vampire's laugh was like silk over broken glass.

“Or what? You'll arrest me?” Its smile widened, showing fangs that weren't quite right, too numerous, too jagged. “Please. Do try.”

“No,” Sean drawled, twirling his blade. “He'll arrest what's left of you after I'm done.” He glanced at me, eyes sharp with the focused intensity I'd come to recognize as his pre-battle state. “Assuming there's enough left for paperwork.”

“You really can't help yourself, can you?” I muttered.

“What can I say? I like to make an entrance.”

The creatures moved first, blindingly fast, but not faster than my heightened senses could track. The auras brightened as they attacked, flaring with bloodlust. The closest one lunged, claws extended, but I was already moving.

I redirected its momentum, using its own strength against it. The thing went flying into a pew, wood splintering under the impact.

Two more came at me as Sean engaged the third. I dropped into a defensive stance, letting muscle memory take over while my supernatural awareness mapped each creature's position with perfect clarity. The first creature's strike was wild, undisciplined. I caught its arm, twisted, and sent it stumbling into its partner. They recovered instantly, but that split second was enough for me to create distance.

“Show off!” Sean called out as he parried a strike that would have taken his head off, his movements economical and deadly. Where I fought with technique and precision, Sean was all controlled violence. “Some of us just stab things, you know!”

“Maybe you should have paid more attention in murder school!”

A laugh that was half growl escaped him as he drove his blade into the creature's chest, twisting it deep.

“Didn't they teach you not to sass your elders?”

I launched into a combination of strikes that would have dropped any human opponent, my movements faster than they had any right to be. My fist connected with one's jaw hard enough to shatter bone, but it barely flinched. Not good.

Time for plan B.

I drew my gun in one smooth motion, squeezing off two shots center mass into the nearest creature. The bullets hit dead center and did absolutely nothing. The thing just smiled, a grotesque stretching of lips that revealed row after row of needle-sharp teeth.

“Okay,” I admitted, “that's problematic.”

Sean's blade sang through the air, opening a deep gash in one creature's throat. Black ichor sprayed across the stone floor, the liquid smoking slightly where it landed. The hunter moved with lethal efficiency, each strike precisely calculated to disable or destroy. But the thing didn't drop. Instead, it let out a shriek that felt like ice picks being driven into my eardrums.

My vision blurred, balance wavering just enough for the vampire to make its move.

It hit me like a freight train, inhuman strength sending me flying back into the altar rail. Wood cracked, breath exploding from my lungs. Too fast. The thing was too damn fast.

The mark on my chest flared with sudden heat, and for an instant, the world around me seemed to slow. I could see the vampire's next move before it happened, its intent written in the currents of its aura. I rolled, the creature's fist missing me by millimeters.

“Having fun yet?” Sean called out as he systematically dismembered one of the creatures. The parts kept moving even after being separated, which was a special kind of nightmare fuel. Each of his strikes was methodical, targeted, the work of someone who had memorized the anatomical weaknesses of every supernatural creature in existence.

“Time of my life,” I wheezed, rolling to avoid the vampire's follow-up strike. Its fist punched through stone where my head had been. “You could help, you know!”

“Aw, but you're doing so well with your fancy moves!”

The vampire pressed its advantage, each strike powerful enough to shatter concrete. But it was showing off, getting cocky. I used that, letting my training take over while the mark on my chest burned hotter. Block, dodge, redirect, the movements as natural as breathing, but now enhanced by my growing power. When it overextended on a particularly vicious swing, I caught its arm and used its own momentum to send it crashing into its pet monsters.

For a moment, the whispers came. The monsters' thoughts, their rage and hunger bleeding into my mind. I shoved them back, refusing to let them in.

“Not bad,” Sean admitted, dispatching another creature with brutal efficiency, his modified short swords carving through unnatural flesh with practiced ease. “For a fed.”

The vampire untangled itself from its minions, suit now properly ruined. Its eyes blazed with hatred as it reached into its coat, aura pulsing with malevolent intent that made my mark throb in warning.

“Enough games.”

Sean didn't hesitate. His blade flashed once, twice, his movements were so fast they blurred in the dim light. The vampire's hand hit the floor with a wet thud, whatever it had been reaching for still clutched in its severed fingers. There was no wasted motion, no theatrical flourish just the economy of a predator who had been hunting longer than most people had been alive.

The creature snarled, clutching its stump, but there was no fear in its ancient eyes. Only triumph.

“The prince will rise,” it hissed, blood painting its teeth black in the moonlight.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say,” Sean said mockingly, his blade already in motion for the killing stroke.

Sean's second strike took its head before it could say more, silver-edged steel parting flesh and bone with minimal resistance.

The remaining creatures collapsed like puppets with cut strings, whatever force animating them apparently tied to their master. The sudden silence was deafening.

My mark's heat began to fade, the supernatural threat neutralized. But something lingered, a residual energy that felt wrong, corrupted.

The creatures' bodies didn't just collapse, they disintegrated, crumbling away like ancient parchment caught in flame. The process was unnaturally quick, flesh turning to ash, bone to dust, until nothing remained but dark stains on the stone floor. The sudden silence pressed against my ears, broken only by my own ragged breathing and the soft plink of blood dripping from Sean's blade.

Sean wiped his weapons clean with practiced movements, his eyes already scanning the room for any remaining threats. “Your paperwork's gonna be a bitch,” he said, nodding toward the stains. “Hard to arrest a pile of dust.”

I glanced at the altar, my enhanced senses picking up residual energy patterns that normal humans wouldn't detect. “Something's not right,” I said. “This was too easy.”

“Easy?” Sean raised an eyebrow, gesturing to a gash in his leather jacket where one of the creatures had nearly gotten through. “Remind me to show you 'difficult' sometime.”

But his eyes followed mine to the altar, his hunter's instincts picking up what my supernatural senses detected. Different methods, same conclusion.

“You felt it too,” I said. Not a question.

Sean nodded once, all traces of humor gone from his face. “Whatever they were trying to wake up,” he said quietly, “I don't think we stopped it. We just pissed it off.”

I ignored him, drawn to the elaborate setup behind the altar. The contrast was jarring. Multiple screens glowed with data streams I didn't recognize, their cables snaking across the floor in patterns that looked almost deliberate. A server hub hummed in the corner, its cooling fans working overtime.

“Someone invested serious money in this,” I muttered, pulling out a specialized drive from my jacket. CITD tech, designed to bypass most security systems. “This isn't street-level vampire tech.”

“No shit.” Sean prowled the perimeter, every movement still coiled with predatory tension. “Even the rich bloodsuckers usually stick to cloud storage. This is...” He gestured at the setup. “This is something else.”

I connected the drive, fingers flying across the keyboard as encryption barriers fell.

The first files loaded, and my stomach dropped through the floor.

“They're not just collecting power,” I said, eyes scanning line after line of data. “They're channeling it somewhere. They're creating focal points throughout the city, using the old churches as conduits.”

Sean's boots scraped against stone as he moved closer, looking over my shoulder. “To what end?”

I pulled up a map overlay, watching points of light pulse like amber heartbeats across Manhattan. “Each site shows massive energy spikes, all feeding into...” I frowned, tracing the pattern. “Something underground. Deep underground.”

“Wonderful.” Sean's voice dripped sarcasm. “Because nothing good ever lives in deep dark holes under cities.”

He turned away from the screens, attention caught by something else. The altar itself was older than the church, its stone dark with age and stained with substances I didn't want to identify. But it was the markings that drew Sean's focus.

“These...” Sean traced one symbol with a gloved finger, his usual irreverence replaced by something darker. “I've seen these before. In books about demon gates.”

The temperature in the church seemed to drop ten degrees. I stepped closer, studying the carvings. They seemed to shift under my gaze, like trying to focus on something underwater. “You're sure?”

“Spent enough time in Dublin cleaning up after idiots tried opening portals.” His jaw tightened. “These are older though. Much older.”

Phoenix wasn't just experimenting with supernatural energy, they were trying to open something. Something that should stay closed.

A sudden wail of sirens pierced the night, distant but getting closer. Multiple vehicles, heavy ones. Not regular police.

“Time to move,” Sean said, already gathering his weapons.

“Where?” I asked, disconnecting my drive.

Sean met my gaze, something almost like respect flickering in his eyes. “My place. We need to analyze what you pulled, and I've got resources you won't find in your government databases.”

“Don't push your luck.” I checked my weapon, mentally cataloging the night's events for the heavily redacted report I'd have to write. “I'm heading home.”

“Are we not gonna talk about this?” Sean gestured at the altar, the dead vampire, the whole bloody mess we'd stumbled into. “About demon gates and corporate conspiracies and whatever the fuck those grey things were?”

“No.”

“No?” His eyebrows shot up. “Just like that? We find out Phoenix is trying to open some sort of a gate under Manhattan and you want to, what, sleep on it?”

The sirens were closer now, accompanied by the distinctive thrum of helicopter rotors. Whatever cleanup crew was coming, they were coming in force.

“Some of us have actual jobs to get to in the morning,” I said, heading for the door. “With paperwork and supervisors who ask questions about suspicious absences.”

“Right, because filing reports about 'animal attacks' is more important than...” Sean cut himself off, head tilting like a predator catching a scent. “We've got company. Multiple vehicles, coming in hot.”

I was already moving toward the back exit, gun ready but not drawn. “Then I suggest we table this discussion for another time.”

“Fine.” Sean fell into step beside me, his longer stride easily matching my pace. “But this isn't over.”

“Story of my life.” I pushed through the door into the cool night air, letting years of training guide me into the shadows. “Try not to kill anything else tonight.”

His quiet laugh followed me into the darkness. “No promises, fed. No promises.”