Soulless (Book #2 of Hunted)

Carpe Jugulum

Phoebe and I returned home and saw Keegan casually leaning against the front door. Sunglasses covering his green-grey eyes, cigarette smoking between his lips.

Four days, I reminded myself. Four days and I would be reunited with the creature who saved my life all those years ago...the creature I fell in love with.

I could do it. I could make it...just keep my thoughts constantly shielded and try my darnedest to keep too many more people from dying.

I took a deep breath and trudged up to the door.

Simple.

I opened the door and invited him in only after he put out his cigarette.

"So who wants lunch?" Keegan asked pinching out his cigarette and tucking it in his pocket to smoke or throw away later, I didn't know.

"I don't know if I'd want to eat whatever your idea of lunch is," Phoebe muttered and Keegan laughed.

"Have faith, little one," he said pinching her cheek and sweeping past her, down the hall, through the living room and into the kitchen.

I closed the door and fiddled with the broken lock sighing.

I came into the kitchen to see Keegan pulling random items out of the sparsely supplied refrigerator and a few things from the pantry. He seemed to know where everything was which was mildly disconcerting. I wondered if, while Phoebe and I had been out seeking Clay, Keegan had been snooping through the entire house. I shuddered at the thought.

"I'm going to check on Zane," I said.

"Anton," Keegan muttered pulling a pot out from the cabinet under the counter. I rolled my eyes and started towards the basement.

I flicked on the light and got a loud angry hiss in response.

"A little warning would have been nice," a sharp voice said and I sighed.

"Figured you would have heard me coming down. And unlike you I can't see too well in pitch blackness," I muttered and he replied, "Not yet."

I looked around. There was a bowl of water on the ground tinged pink with blood, a damp rag lying nearby. A tattered pile of bloodstained fabric that I recognized as the shirt he had been wearing when Phoebe and I had left lying in the corner.

It was then that I noticed he was naked from the waist up and wearing a clean pair of trousers. There was also a clean shirt folded and laying on the floor. It occurred to me that he was unable to put it on, chained as he was. He seemed comfortable enough without it.

In addition to the sketchbook and crayons there was now an old book of crossword puzzles from like 1996, an iPod that I was pretty sure wasn't mine, and a stack of Discworld novels that Keegan must have gone into my room to get.

He was thumbing through the last few pages of my copy of "Carpe Jugulum."

"This book makes me hungry," he said, his eyes skimming the last page before he shut the book and placed it precisely on top of the stack. He looked up at me and said, "Bring me someone to eat." I crossed my arms over my chest and replied, "You'll have to talk to Keegan about that."

"I would," he said with a sneer. "But he seems a bit preoccupied with slicing mushrooms," he continued taking another book from the stack. I could smell the mushrooms, hear the rhythmic slicing of the knife, the bubble of boiling water.

There was a moment of awkward silence in which he cracked open the book and began flicking through the pages way too quickly to read a word.

"I'll have you know I am reading every word," he muttered turning another page. Crap! I imagined a steel wall around my thoughts and I saw him visibly flinch. Evidently he hadn't seen anything about Clay. It might be harder than I thought to keep my thoughts locked up for four days.