Soultaker

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Bridget’s gaze was riveted to the knife in Jordan’s hand. “You cheated.”

Jordan sneered. “Think I give a shit?”

Bridget smiled. “Guess not. The concept of fair play’s for chumps anyway. Should have done it myself.”

Jordan glanced back and forth between Angela and Bridget. Though possession of the knife gave her a theoretic advantage over them, her elation didn’t last long. The other women possessed amazing, unnatural strength. She wasn’t at all certain she could win against either of them, unarmed or not.

Against the two of them working in tandem…

She shivered.

“Look, she’s getting scared,” Angela said with a chuckle.

Bridget locked eyes with Jordan. Jordan’s throat felt thick and her heart fluttered. “I see that. She’ll pee herself any second now.”

Jordan’s expression hardened. “Shut up.” She brandished the knife in a general way. “Keep your fucking mouths shut. You think I won’t use this? Okay, maybe I am scared, but I’ll do whatever I have to do to get out of this.”

Bridget covered her mouth. She looked as if she were attempting to suppress hysterical laughter. But Jordan knew the truth-the bitch was just mocking her again. Bridget’s hand came away from her mouth and she laughed heartily. “You’re so cute, Jordan. You with that knife, so big in your scrawny little hand. You’re a child playing at grown-up games.” She licked her lips. “So it’s time to start treating you like a child. You’ve been extra naughty. So I’ll be bending you over my knee for a spanking in a minute.”

Angela leered. “Oooh, now you’re just turning her on.”

Bridget giggled.

“Go. To. Hell,” Jordan seethed.

The mirth vanished from Bridget’s face at once. Her expression now was cold and unforgiving. “I’m tired of indulging your pathetic rebellion.” She glanced at Angela. “Get the bitch.” She looked at Jordan. “Now.”

Jordan gasped and took an unconscious step backward. She waved the knife again. “Stay back!”

Angela rose from her chair, stretching to her full height, which was just an inch or so shy of six feet. She cut a very impressive figure, with long, lean legs, a flat, concave stomach, and toned and gleaming muscles. She was the sort of woman people had in mind when they used the term “Amazonian.” She stood still for a moment, smiling softly and holding Jordan’s gaze, intimidating the smaller woman with her physicality. Then she began to approach Jordan, slowly, with a slight sway to her hips.

Jordan was unable to suppress a whimper. The hand holding the knife shook visibly. She was sure it would tumble to the floor any moment. “Stop.” Her voice was a hoarse, desperate whisper. “Stay right there.”

Angela just kept coming.

“I’m about to take that knife away from you, little girl.” There was something hungry in her expression. Something eager. “And I’m gonna put it in a real uncomfortable place.”

Jordan’s body was close to betraying her. Her knees were shaking and the world around her had become soft-focus. The floor felt slippery beneath her, almost insubstantial, as if it could swallow her like quicksand. She felt unspeakably weak, like a failing wisp of a thing, barely alive.

Angela said, “Why don’t you save us both some trouble? You know you won’t be able to do anything to me. Don’t embarrass yourself. Hell, you’re almost down for the count already.” She was within a few feet of Jordan now. She held out her hand. “Just hand it over.”

Jordan’s grip tightened on the knife. She bit her lip hard, and some of her strength and focus came back. Just enough, as it turned out. Animal instinct drove what happened next-she slashed at the extended hand, and the sharp blade cut a deep trail across Angela’s open palm. Angela shrieked as blood gushed out of the wound.

Bridget said, “Shit.”

Jordan pressed her new advantage, moving in to slash at Angela again. The blade opened a deep cut just below the woman’s collarbone. She stumbled backward, blood pouring over her breasts. Her eyes were wide with pain and fear. A part of Jordan thrilled at the sight of it, a savage, primal piece of her psyche she had never been in touch with before. It scared her, but she also knew she needed to embrace it to have any hope of getting out of this place alive.

Angela was holding her hands up for protection.

A torrent of words spilled through her trembling lips, panic-driven cries for mercy.

Jordan loved it.

Reveled in it.

The big, bad bitch was begging.

Jordan slashed her with the knife again, a strike that went deep into the meaty part of a forearm. She had to dig the blade out. Angela screamed some more and staggered backward. Then there was a loud squeal, the source of which wasn’t immediately apparent to Jordan. Then Angela tumbled over something and landed hard on the linoleum. The squeal came again, and Jordan saw that Angela had tripped over the beach ball creature. The thing that had been described to her as one of Lamia’s “minions” opened its wide mouth and displayed rows of sharp, jagged teeth.

Then it took a chunk out of Angela’s left calf.

Angela spasmed on the floor, kicking her leg in a desperate attempt to dislodge the creature, which again chomped down on her leg.

Bridget shot up out of her chair. “Stop!”

Angela tried to rise, but Jordan kicked her in the stomach. Driven again by that savage, unforgiving part of her psyche, she dropped to her knees next to the fallen woman, raised the knife high above her head, and slammed it down. The blade punched through Angela’s chest wall, impaling her heart and stopping it cold.

Jordan watched the life fade from her vanquished foe’s eyes.

A shudder of revulsion made her stomach lurch. The knife slipped from her hand. She pitched forward, her open palms slapping against the floor. Then it came, an awful tide of bile that filled the back of her throat before exploding out of her wide-open mouth. Fluid mixed with partially digested pieces of Todd splattered against the linoleum. The sight of the vile remains of her neighbor made her stomach heave again, and her entire body spasmed as she sprayed more vomit on the floor.

She became aware of a presence close to her. Bridget. The knowledge should have frightened her. She had to defend herself. She knew it, but for the moment she was incapable of doing anything about it. She was shaking harder than ever, her body beyond her control. That sick weakness returned, engulfing her. Sweat bloomed on her brow and a chill swept through her. She ached all over. She was so miserable she didn’t give a damn what happened to her.

She even prayed for her own death.

She turned her head a little to the right, glimpsed Angela’s lifeless, sliced-up body, and experienced another ripple of nausea, but this time it was a less violent dry heave. There was nothing left to throw up. Her eyes filled with tears again. She’d only meant to defend herself. What the hell had possessed her?

Bridget knelt next to her and placed a hand on her back.

Jordan’s breath caught in her throat.

Bridget stroked her, a soothing, sensual touch.

“That…feels nice,” Jordan said.

“Mmm.” Bridget’s hand moved up between her shoulder blades. “Let me guess. Something came over you. You didn’t feel like yourself. But it felt good.”

Jordan shuddered again. She sat up slowly and allowed the other woman to embrace her. “How…how did you know?”

Bridget smiled. “You felt the touch of the goddess. She was inside you.”

“But…how? You said-”

Bridget shushed her with a finger across her lips. “Never mind all that. I was wrong. Wrong about everything.” She smiled ruefully and shook her head. “This will sound nuts to you, but hear me out. I think there’s some things about yourself, about your origin, that you know nothing about. You’ve been lied to about your early life, I imagine.”

“But-”

“Relax.” Bridget touched her face, stroked her cheek. “Think about it. What’s your earliest memory? How much of your childhood do you really remember?”

Jordan scowled, shook her head in disbelief. “What the hell are you saying? I had a perfectly normal childhood.” But now she was thinking about it. A strange feeling came over her. Her scowl became a frown. It was odd, but she never thought much about her preadolescent years. She tried to cast her mind back to that time, but all that came to her were murky, dreamlike images. It was like a kind of mental block. “Well, this is…listen, just because I can’t remember anything…”

Bridget’s smile was full of sympathy. “It’s okay. You don’t need to be afraid. I can help you with this. Guide you. I can show you the truth.”

Jordan shrugged out of the embrace. “Why are you suddenly being so nice to me?”

Bridget’s smile didn’t waver. “There’s been one wild motherfucker of a paradigm shift, that’s all.” Her expression became more contemplative, but she seemed no less serene. “I hated you until a few moments ago. Not for any good reason. That’s just the kind of bitch I am. I’m as close to the goddess as any mortal can be. I think I have a special relationship with her. But the reality is that I’m just a mortal. I can’t know every facet of her grand design. I can only perceive or understand portions of it. You were a part I didn’t understand.” She hesitated, and a flicker of unease was apparent in her eyes. “Until now…I guess.”

Jordan’s expression was a study in confusion. “Oh, give me a fucking break, Bridget. I’ve had enough of this insanity. I’m not a part of anything to do with your fucking goddess.”

“But you are.” Bridget reached out to her, clasped hands with her. “Here’s what I do know. You are Lamia’s daughter. Sired by a human man. She told us you were out there. That one day you would return and become aware of your true nature, and that you would join us in the glory of the Harvest. You should embrace this gift, Jordan. Allow yourself to know the joy that is your birthright. You’re a half-breed, darling. Part divine, part human.”

Jordan snorted. “Bullshit.”

Bridget squeezed her hand. “It’s okay if you don’t believe. Trust me, this is hard for me, too. I guess I sort of hoped I might turn out to be the one.” Her expression turned strangely shy, very unlike the Bridget she knew. Her laughter was more than a bit nervous. “I fantasized about it, envisioned this great cosmic awakening. And it even would have made sense. Once upon a time Lamia masqueraded as my older sister, Moira. Alas, it was not to be.”

Jordan couldn’t stop shaking her head. “No, no, no. This is ridiculous. Deities don’t procreate with humans.”

Bridget brushed long strands of golden blonde hair from her face. “You’re proof to the contrary.”

“Look, even if Lamia had a daughter, how could you know I’m the one?” Jordan laughed without humor. “I was trying to stay alive, so you’ll have to offer more proof than…what I did to Angela.”

Bridget’s expression changed again, her sky blue eyes projecting total confidence now. “When you were attacking her, you…well, you…changed.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your face…it changed. Morphed.” Bridget’s tone was a mixture of fear and awe. “Your face became her face. You and the goddess are inextricably, uniquely linked. Like I said, she told us about you. Not about your human identity, but about your existence. And she said your true nature would be revealed to us one day, in this very way.” A shiver rippled through her. “And there’s more. So much more. Wondrous things, Jordan.”

Jordan’s heart was beating fast. “What are you talking about?”

Bridget shook her head. “Some things are not for me to reveal. You’ll know more when you meet your mother.” She smiled. “Your real mother.”

Jordan frowned. “Fuck this. I don’t believe any of it. It’s crazy. And if that goddess of yours is really my mother, and if she’s so fucking omnipotent, why did she let you and your bitch friend torment me so?”

Bridget’s eyes betrayed a deepening fear. She shivered. “I think I know. I…”

Jordan clamped a hand around Bridget’s jaw, forced the girl to look her in the eye. She saw terror in her expression. The real thing. Pure and vibrant. The kind even the best actress could never fake. And despite her doubts, Jordan became aware of a new strength thrumming within her. She moved her hand to Bridget’s throat, felt the life pulsing there, felt how easy it would be to snuff it.

“Tell me.” Her voice was hard. “Now.”

Bridget’s jaw quivered as she struggled to speak. “I…I suspect she wanted this to happen. She…must have wanted us to goad you to a breaking point, to where you’d feel compelled to defend yourself, to…kill.”

Jordan rose to her feet. No trace of her former weakness remained. She felt strong. Powerful. Invincible. Like some kind of fucking superwoman. It was amazing. And though it made her mind reel, she now knew Bridget was telling the truth. She felt it down to her DNA. Glaring down at her former adversary, she felt a resurgence of what she’d felt just before Angela’s death.

Bridget cowered at her feet. “Please…”

“WHY, Bridget?” Jordan was screaming now. “WHY WOULD SHE WANT THAT!?”

Bridget sobbed. “I don’t…know. Part of a process, a…transformation…maybe. I don’t really know. There’s nothing more I can tell you. Please believe me.”

“YOU’RE LYING!”

Bridget’s face was streaked with tears. “No…I swear…”

“I ought to kill you.”

Bridget bowed her head. “If…if that’s what you want.” Her body quaked with the force of her fear. “I submit to you as I would your mother.”

Jordan thought about it. She wouldn’t even need the knife. She could snap Bridget’s neck as easily as she’d snap a twig. Or punch through her chest wall and rip out her still-beating heart. The knowledge was exhilarating-and terrifying. She felt a strange and unnatural energy pulsing within her, something dormant come to full, screaming life, and she felt a strong urge to revel in it. Yet, a part of her was repulsed by it. This was the voice of her conscience, she supposed.

Yes.

Her mother was a goddess, which meant she had some aspect of the deity within her. But she was of the human world, as well. Her humanity had shaped her, not that secret touch of the divine. She had a soul. A conscience.

Her body relaxed. She let out a deep breath. “I’m not going to kill you.”

Bridget looked up at her. “You’re not?”

Jordan shook her head. “And I’m not killing anyone else, either. You can tell my mother that when you see her. Neither is she. I’m going to find a way to stop this massacre she has planned.”

Bridget gaped at her. “But that’s impossible.”

Jordan smiled. “You’re wrong. This time, you’re really wrong.”

Jordan found the clothes that had been forcibly removed from her hours earlier. She put them on and left the apartment without another word. Lamia’s minions tensed at the sight of her as she emerged onto the landing. They sensed the change within her, felt the power flowing through her, and they parted as she walked down the stairs, allowing her passage as she brushed past them.

Jordan stood in the parking lot and stared up at the clear night sky.

Her smile was a cold, almost dead thing, her voice quiet but hard. “I’m coming for you, Mother. And there’s nothing you can do about it.”

A dark cloud passed over the silver moon.

And somewhere far away, a scream resonated in the night.