His Soul to Take (6 page)

The chill of eyes on his back made him turn and his blood ran cold as those dark eyes turned on him. He came to a dead stop and the man smiled. The dark amusement in his eyes made Robert uneasy. He scanned the busy street trying to find Simon again, but the street stood empty.

His heart quickened in his chest, and he tried to ignore the persistent prickle of eyes on his back. He sped up his pace in the direction Simon had disappeared and glanced back over his shoulder to see if the other man was following him, but he was gone too.

A shudder ran down his spine and he took a deep breath, trying to lose the feeling of being watched. He rounded the next corner, but the sparse foot traffic didn't reveal any clues as to where Simon had gone.

"Damn,” he muttered.

"Looking for someone?"

Robert jumped and staggered back as the watching man stepped out from between two buildings. “Who are you? Why were you watching Simon?"

The man smiled showing off perfect white teeth. “Simon? Is that what he told you his name was?"

"Why? Isn't it Simon?"

"I wouldn't know. It could be. Anything's possible. Well, almost anything."

Robert studied the man a long moment. “I think I should go."

He smiled. “Nice meeting you, Robert Alan Lasker. Tell Simon hello for me."

His skin crawled at the purr behind his words. How had the man known his name? He swallowed back the lump in his throat and backed away. Colliding with a passing jogger, he jumped. Caught up in a tangle, they barely managed to keep from falling.

"Sorry,” Robert muttered. Turning back between the buildings, he frowned. The man had disappeared, leaving him with the creepy afterglow of his presence.

Shrugging off the disquiet, he scanned the area for Simon. Torn between finding him and going home, he started in the direction that might lead him to both.

After about an hour, he had all but given up seeing Simon again.

Then something caught his eyes across the street. Simon stood next to an old man beside a bus stop. The old man was arguing with an old woman, probably his wife, as they waited for a bus. The pair stood off to one side, directly in front of Simon, their argument growing more heated so it rose above the pitch of the roaring traffic. Simon studied the man a long moment, before touching his shoulder and stepping back away from the pair.

The strange action surprised him. Perhaps they were relatives. He started to wave to Simon and pressed the button to the crosswalk. The old man bent over suddenly grabbing his chest. The traffic whipped past at a frantic pace. Simon stood unmoved, watching as the old man staggered into the road. His wife reached out to grab him but missed, and he half collapsed as a car smacked into him.

Robert gasped, shock spreading with mind-numbing speed. The old woman's screams and wails filled the street, and traffic screeched to a stop. People gathered around the bus stop and shouted for help. Simon stood immobile in the chaos, oblivious to the cries around him, and their eyes locked. Something in his eyes said it. The sadness. He was responsible somehow. The old woman in the hospital, the newspaper photo, the club... those weren't coincidences.

Had Simon killed those people? A serial killer? The club was an accident, but the hospital, the photo, the old man.... He ran his hand through his hair and stared at Simon. His heart raced and his mouth went dry. Fear twisted in his gut and his throat tightened. His mind reeled. Shock and uncertainty hit him, drowning out thought. Simon studied him, and a chill ran down Robert's spine. Simon turned slowly and walked away. More confused than ever, Robert staggered back to his apartment trying to sort out what he'd seen.

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The knock echoed through his apartment. Robert jumped and spun to look at the front door.

He'd been on edge since he got home hours ago, expecting Simon to come pounding on his door. He'd considered calling Jerry and telling him about what he'd seen, but it all sounded so weird and creepy. Every time he thought he should call and had rehearsed what he'd say, it just sounded like insane babblings. It wasn't like Simon had threatened him—just the opposite. He felt safe with him.

Robert stared at the hardwood door, wondering if he should answer the knock.

"Robert,” Simon called. “Can we talk?"

He swallowed hard and said nothing.

"Please?"

He pursed his lips together, wishing Simon would just leave.

The sound of shuffling feet drifted from outside into his apartment.

"It's... hard to explain. I was hoping you'd let me."

Maybe he had gotten things wrong. What if it was just a strange set of weird events?

He stared at the blank TV in front of him, debating whether to open the door or not. The quiet of the late evening descended, and he couldn't be sure if Simon had left or not. Getting to his feet, he took a deep breath and stared at the door. The clock over the TV ticked, each second beating through the small apartment. The heavy air sucked the life out of the room, and he moved to the entry hall. He pressed his ear to the door and listened for the sound of Simon outside.

"Tell me to leave and I will,” Simon whispered from the other side.

"Tell me it's not what I think,” Robert said.

"It's not what you think."

He unlocked the deadbolt and pulled the door open. The chain caught the heavy wood, leaving it to hang open just a few inches.

Simon stood in the hall, his eyes were dark with worry and hints of crow's feet creased his face. Tiny lines of age accented the frown on his supple lips. Robert wouldn't have called him striking, but the more he looked at him, the more Simon stood out. His strong Roman nose, firm chin, and those eyes. Those dark, haunted eyes.

"What are you?”
What
, not
who
.

"May I come in?"

Robert hesitated. There had been countless times Simon could have hurt him, but he had saved him instead. The memory of his strong arms wrapped around him as the lights collapsed stirred his blood more than he thought it should. Their night together, Simon's arms, his kiss—God, how he'd loved the taste of him. He ached to hold him again. He hated to admit he wanted to touch him. He at least owed him the chance to explain.

He closed the door, unlocking the chain before letting Simon inside.

"I saw you with the old man. You touched him and he fell in the street. Did he die?” Robert asked.

"Yes."

"You didn't help him. You could have helped him. You could have pulled him out of the way. Like you did for me."

"I shouldn't have done that."

Robert stared at him, a shocked numbness spreading over him and fear beginning to creep under his skin. His chest tightened as he searched Simon's face. He had thought things were—He shook his head. He didn't know what he thought.

"You shouldn't have saved me?” Robert asked.

Simon hesitated. “I didn't say I regretted it."

"What
are
you?"

Simon took a deep breath and met his gaze. His dark eyes grew intense with power, and a chill ran down Robert's spine. The moment was gone and Simon returned to his usual quiet, sad self.

"You tell me."

Robert backed into the couch. He didn't think he wanted to know. He shook his head trying to clear his thoughts. A strange panic gripped his chest and he tried to blink Simon into focus. His image blurred and faded. Thoughts and memories tumbled through him and disappeared before he could grasp them. It was getting harder to focus on Simon. Harder to see him, to think about him. Dizziness washed over him, as if he had been living a dream these past few days.

"Don't. Please,” Simon begged. His voice cracked in the dim room. “Robert, the moment you don't want to know, everything will change. Please don't do that. It's been so long...."

Robert grabbed his head, trying to focus. Simon's image began to fade, drifting away like smoke. His chest ached as if he was losing something important. Something real. He moaned with the pain, and panic ate at his chest. Something screamed at him not to let it go, but he couldn't remember what “it” was. The world twisted and spun, his mind reeled. These past days were just some strange dream he'd had while recovering from the shock at the club. That had to be it.

Strong hands reached for him, pulling him close. Gentle lips brushed against his mouth. He closed his eyes. The longing in that kiss. The sweet taste of winter on his tongue, strong hands holding him, the bite of Simon's musk filled his senses. Memories snapped back. He shook his head and a wave of dizziness washed over him. The whole world seemed to snap back into focus as Simon's lips left his.

Robert swallowed the worry creeping into his chest. “What just happened?"

"I didn't want to lose how special you are. Do you know now how long it's been since someone wanted to know me? No one wants to know me. They don't see me, but you did."

"What are you?"

"Can we just not worry about that? You just almost left, forgot me like a dream, willed me away from your sight and memory. You didn't want to know. I am, most likely, what you think I am. I take things and deliver them... elsewhere."

A chill ran down Robert's spine. He couldn't bring himself to say the word. He walked into the kitchen, needing some space. His mind reeling, he wiped his damp palms on his pants and tried to stay calm.

Easier said than done.

His mind turned over everything Simon had told him as he opened the fridge for something to drink that was stronger than milk. Not even a beer to be found.

He cleared his throat and closed the fridge. “Others don't see you?"

"No, they don't want to, so they don't."

Robert thought about the club, how the waitresses had ignored Simon, how he had walked through the crowd like a ghost. How Jerry hadn't noticed him or even really remembered he had existed. So unusual for Jerry. A hero would have had him drooling. In the hospital no one had stopped him as he left the old woman's room. The sound of the machine as it flatlined still rang in his ears. The old arguing couple and the photo of the pile up. How Robert had almost forgotten him?

Robert closed his eyes. Death? Simon didn't look like Death. No dark robes, skull face, or scythe, just the face of the man he had grown to care about.

His mouth went dry, and he forced himself to swallow. “Am I next?"

Robert couldn't bear to look at him. Worried what he'd see in those dark eyes. He stared at the front of the refrigerator.

"Everyone dies, Robert, but no. Not today."

He relaxed a notch, the tension easing from his shoulders. “Soon?"

"I don't know times, I just know when I'm called to a soul, that's all."

"And at the club? Was I supposed to die then?"

"I... delayed a series of events that's all. No, you weren't to die there."

Robert's head spun, a heavy weight growing in his chest. It squeezed his lungs making it hard to breathe. “I saw another one. Like you, I think. He was watching you."

"When I interfered, I changed things. I'm supposed to put you back on track."

"And my eventual death,” Robert whispered. His head reeled and fear choked him. How was he supposed to respond to that?

"Like I said, everyone dies."

"Everyone but you."

Simon said nothing and Robert took a deep breath trying to wrap his head around things.

He stared down at the kitchen counter a long moment before gathering up the courage to look across the tiny kitchen at Simon. “I don't want to die, Simon. Please don't let me die."

"Don't ask for things when you don't know the consequences of your request,” Simon said. “Don't ask for that, please. Take it back."

"Why? No!” Fear choked him and his voice cracked. He fought to keep a handle on his emotions, but it was all too much too soon. He gasped for air and looked away, panting around the deep hole that had just opened up in his soul.

He didn't want to die. He didn't want to leave. The very idea that it would all be over soon tore at his guts. He had just gotten what he had dreamed of. A quiet prince with all the trimmings.

"Robert, please."

A heavy silence fell between them.

"Would it have been easier if I had let you forget me? Greedy of me, perhaps, to want such a thing. To keep you as you are. I didn't want to be a half-forgotten dream to you. It's been so very long—"

Robert hesitated, uncertain, trying to squash the fear that threatened to overwhelm him. He looked down at the mock marble counter top and ran his hand over the speckled surface. The sound of Simon's footsteps whispered across the tile floor behind him.

"Please, Robert. Take it back."

The heat of Simon's breath on his neck sent a tingle down his spine. Turning to face him, Robert shook his head, emotions tearing him in all directions.

Simon bent down and kissed him. Robert wasn't certain of anything anymore. His chest tightened and confusion made him lightheaded. Passion teased his mouth, and the taste of winter tingled on his tongue, so enticing. He couldn't think, couldn't breathe.

He jerked his mouth away and tried to put some space between them. Simon grabbed his face, jerking him back. Hot lips smothered his mouth. Robert fought the sweet arousal of his demanding touch. So present, so hot.

"Simon—” The protest sounded weak even to his own ears.

Simon kissed him again, pressing him into the fridge. The handle bit into his spine and hands pulled his hips close. The fierce friction of Simon's cock against his made him moan. His confusion gave way to lust. Simon's body so close, the warmth, the taste of his kiss. Robert gasped for air, tearing his lips away.

The pain and sadness in Simon's eyes tore at his soul. A pleading look. For what he wasn't sure. Understanding?

A gentle hand stroked his cheek, and Robert winced and looked away.

"Please, Robert,” Simon whispered.

The emotion in his voice made Robert's heart ache, and soft lips brushed against his neck. His resistance shattered and he turned to meet Simon's kiss. He burned with need so intense it crushed worry and doubt. He felt complete. The memory of Simon's touch, the longing in his voice. Robert pulled Simon closer, fingers tangling in his hair. Tongues battled, the taste of him so different. Addictive. Strange, how the touch of Death could make him feel so alive.