Read Online Soulless (The Heartless Series Book 2) by Kelly Martin - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Kelly Martin
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people died, died for me, died to keep me alive, died because demons came from Hell and possessed them, died for so many reasons and none of them, none of them, are their own fault.
Doesn’t seem fair.
“Are you suggesting we make a mass haul to the police department?” He picks the knife up off the table and fingers it in his left hand.
The swirls engraved on the metal catch my eye, and I’d give anything to be able to read it. I’m sure it means something. It feels like it’s on the tip of my tongue, the translation, the words. Like something is scratching in the very back, the very dark spaces, of my mind, telling me what the symbols mean and I can’t… make… it… come… out. It feels like a wall is blocking them from the rest of my brain, which is stupid I know, but that’s what it feels like. A mental block is what I think the cool kids call it.
“Their families need to know.” I’m very stern about this fact. If there is one good thing I can do, it is to tell those poor families not to set a place for their loved one at Christmas or Easter or even have hope that they’ll see him or her again. Hope can be a powerful thing. Hope can hurt more than any torture or any knife wound or any broken trust. You want to hurt someone, hurt them very badly, give them hope. Now that I think about it, hope is what Seth gave Hart to make him follow Seth’s plan for the last two hundred years.
Hart.
I can’t imagine how Hart is feeling. I don’t want to imagine.
I don’t want to care.
“And then do what? Huh? Let’s say we tell the families. Do you think they’ll believe us?”
“You said the world had gone to hell in the last three days. Maybe we can say you’re a big bad demon fighter and you saved them by getting rid of the demon and sending their souls to Heaven.”
…
…
…
I keep waiting for an answer. I don’t get one.
“I mean… you know, they need to know.” That’s all I can really say. The families need to know. They need to not get their hopes up every time someone knocks on their door.
“Say they do believe us. Say they are all on board with the demons-are-real thing, which, if you watch the news, people are starting to believe. Nobody really knows what’s going on, and it’s pretty crazy outside. Scary crazy.”
For Hart to be afraid of something, it makes the hairs on my arms stand up. I always thought of him as not afraid of anything. The big bad who put other big bads to shame. Now I see him for what he is, and I can’t believe I’ve been scared of him for all these years.
Coward.
“They—”
“Have to know. I know. You keep saying it, but you aren’t listening. I get it. You feel bad. I’d be worried if you didn’t, but trust me when I say these people… they were already dead.”
I don’t understand. I don’t have to say anything for Hart to catch that.
“Look, demons are nasty things. I can say that because I am one. Do you really think they would have let those poor bastards go if we asked nicely? No. They would’ve laughed in my face or ripped my head off, neither of which would’ve helped you. We are vultures. Actually, leeches is more accurate. We latch on to a body, a vessel, and we pretty much make it our bitch until the day it dies of old age. Bullets won’t kill a demon inside a human body. Won’t even phase it. Not even decapitation will do the trick, but normally the demon will leave on its own to keep from being a big pile of cut apart pieces.”
“Lovely.” Such a more interesting lesson than anything I’ve learned in college so far.
“Right?” He clearly doesn’t get my sarcasm. “The body can die, but the only thing that will kill the demon inside is this.” He shows me the knife. “They say it was forged by God himself.”
“Do you believe that?” Cause I want to. It would be cool, though I wouldn’t know how Hart got it. From Seth I suppose, but how… It would be nice to get the full story. I’m thinking I
Doesn’t seem fair.
“Are you suggesting we make a mass haul to the police department?” He picks the knife up off the table and fingers it in his left hand.
The swirls engraved on the metal catch my eye, and I’d give anything to be able to read it. I’m sure it means something. It feels like it’s on the tip of my tongue, the translation, the words. Like something is scratching in the very back, the very dark spaces, of my mind, telling me what the symbols mean and I can’t… make… it… come… out. It feels like a wall is blocking them from the rest of my brain, which is stupid I know, but that’s what it feels like. A mental block is what I think the cool kids call it.
“Their families need to know.” I’m very stern about this fact. If there is one good thing I can do, it is to tell those poor families not to set a place for their loved one at Christmas or Easter or even have hope that they’ll see him or her again. Hope can be a powerful thing. Hope can hurt more than any torture or any knife wound or any broken trust. You want to hurt someone, hurt them very badly, give them hope. Now that I think about it, hope is what Seth gave Hart to make him follow Seth’s plan for the last two hundred years.
Hart.
I can’t imagine how Hart is feeling. I don’t want to imagine.
I don’t want to care.
“And then do what? Huh? Let’s say we tell the families. Do you think they’ll believe us?”
“You said the world had gone to hell in the last three days. Maybe we can say you’re a big bad demon fighter and you saved them by getting rid of the demon and sending their souls to Heaven.”
…
…
…
I keep waiting for an answer. I don’t get one.
“I mean… you know, they need to know.” That’s all I can really say. The families need to know. They need to not get their hopes up every time someone knocks on their door.
“Say they do believe us. Say they are all on board with the demons-are-real thing, which, if you watch the news, people are starting to believe. Nobody really knows what’s going on, and it’s pretty crazy outside. Scary crazy.”
For Hart to be afraid of something, it makes the hairs on my arms stand up. I always thought of him as not afraid of anything. The big bad who put other big bads to shame. Now I see him for what he is, and I can’t believe I’ve been scared of him for all these years.
Coward.
“They—”
“Have to know. I know. You keep saying it, but you aren’t listening. I get it. You feel bad. I’d be worried if you didn’t, but trust me when I say these people… they were already dead.”
I don’t understand. I don’t have to say anything for Hart to catch that.
“Look, demons are nasty things. I can say that because I am one. Do you really think they would have let those poor bastards go if we asked nicely? No. They would’ve laughed in my face or ripped my head off, neither of which would’ve helped you. We are vultures. Actually, leeches is more accurate. We latch on to a body, a vessel, and we pretty much make it our bitch until the day it dies of old age. Bullets won’t kill a demon inside a human body. Won’t even phase it. Not even decapitation will do the trick, but normally the demon will leave on its own to keep from being a big pile of cut apart pieces.”
“Lovely.” Such a more interesting lesson than anything I’ve learned in college so far.
“Right?” He clearly doesn’t get my sarcasm. “The body can die, but the only thing that will kill the demon inside is this.” He shows me the knife. “They say it was forged by God himself.”
“Do you believe that?” Cause I want to. It would be cool, though I wouldn’t know how Hart got it. From Seth I suppose, but how… It would be nice to get the full story. I’m thinking I
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