Page 71 of Eclipse Born

The man's lips curved in what might have been amusement. “He thought you might say that.” He stepped closer. “But this isn't a request, Nephilim.”

A hand on my shoulder, firm and cold, and suddenly the city was gone.

18

SOUL KEEPER

SEAN

Reality shifted and twisted around me, the world blurring into streaks of color and light before reforming. My stomach lurched, and I stumbled as solid ground materialized beneath my feet. I was no longer in the alley but in a lavish penthouse, high above the city. The walls were glass, giving a perfect view of the skyline, lights glittering like fallen stars against the velvet darkness.

A man stood by the window, his silhouette sharp against the backdrop of the city. Tall, elegant, power radiating from him in waves that made the air feel charged with electricity.

The man turned, and I got my first real look at him. Dark suit impeccably tailored, sharp features that might have been handsome if not for the calculation in his eyes, an aura of quiet control that made the hair on my arms stand on end.

“Who the hell are you?” I demanded, hand going instinctively to where my weapon should be. Gone, of course. Whoever had yanked me here hadn't been thoughtful enough to bring my gun along for the ride.

The man smiled slightly, the expression not reaching his eyes. “I suppose introductions are overdue. My name is Zeryth.”

His voice was smooth, cultured, with an accent I couldn't quite place. Ancient, somehow, though he appeared no older than forty.

“That supposed to mean something to me?” I asked, trying to mask my unease with bravado.

“Not yet,” Zeryth admitted. “But it will.”

He gestured to a sitting area, two armchairs facing each other across a glass coffee table. “Please, sit. Can I offer you a drink?”

“I'll stand, thanks,” I replied, eyes darting around the room, assessing possible exits, weapons, anything I could use. Nothing obvious presented itself. No windows that opened, no decorative items heavy enough to use as weapons. Just sleek, minimalist luxury that somehow felt both ancient and modern at once.

Zeryth shrugged elegantly. “As you wish.” He moved to one of the chairs and sat, crossing one leg over the other. “I've been watching Cade for quite some time.”

That got my attention. “What did you just say?”

“Cade,” Zeryth repeated, watching me with those ancient eyes. “I've been watching him since the night in the alley. Since the day he almost died as a child.”

I took an involuntary step forward. “You're the one who marked him.”

Zeryth nodded, the movement almost imperceptible. “And the one who got him out of Hell.”

The weight of the words settled over me like lead. I struggled to process it, mind racing through possibilities, each more alarming than the last. This was the entity that had been pulling Cade's strings all along? The one responsible for the heart-shaped mark on his chest that had been steadily corrupting him?

I didn't waste time dancing around the real question. “Are you the reason Cade's soul is missing?”

Zeryth didn't hesitate. “Yes.”

My blood ran cold. I lunged forward without thinking, fury overtaking caution, but an invisible barrier stopped me before I could reach him. Zeryth hadn't moved, hadn't even blinked.

“Let me explain,” he said calmly, as if I hadn't just tried to attack him.

“Explain?” I snarled, still pushing against the unseen force. “You stole his soul! You turned him into that... that empty shell!”

“I protected him,” Zeryth corrected, voice still infuriatingly calm. “If Cade had returned from Hell with his soul intact, with the memory of every moment of his time there, he wouldn't be functional. He'd be broken beyond repair.”

I stopped struggling, the words sinking in despite my anger. “What are you talking about?”

Zeryth sighed, the sound almost human. “Hell isn't just a place of physical torture, Sean. It's designed to break souls. To twist them until they become the very thing they fought against in life.”

“I know what Hell does,” I spat. “I've hunted enough demons to hear the highlight reel.”

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