The Soul Collector

Chapter FIFTEEN

�There is the reawakening of the soul, often faint and unseen

Silence was a trade she learned after years of hiding in the shadowed streets. A person had to learn to be invisible, as silent as the night, to avoid attracting unwarranted attention.

Her mouth puckered into a tight moue. He didn't know she was there, and she preferred it.

She learned a lot by simply watching Luke Angeles.

He stood in the glass walled lobby, rays of sunlight illuminating his face, seeming to wax all color from him. His dark attire added to the effect, lending him a ghostly touch.

To her, he appeared paler, almost unholy.

Deborah's brow furrowed and the wrinkles framing her eyes deepened. Long moments passed before a low chirp of laughter twittered from her mouth. She pressed her hands to her mouth, muffling her delight.

“What do you see, Birdie?"

Ethan's voice sounded close to her shoulder and she startled but lowered her hands. Instead of answering, she pointed at the black garbed figure, afraid to speak. She knew the sound falling from her lips would have been a shrill screech of joy.

Puzzled, the youth remained by her silence. Deborah warbled in his company, her chirping observations often causing him to chuckle, thus her nickname. If she was quiet, something profound had occurred, and he would respect her judgment.

He followed the direction of her finger and frowned, wondering what held her so fascinated.

“I don't have your ability, Birdie.” He lamented with a pitiful sigh, witnessing nothing beyond the ordinary. “I can only do the computer stuff.”

“Just barely,” a surly voice quipped nearby.

The old woman started again, unaware of Gil’s closeness, and surprised he had crept up on her. Normally, she wasn't as lax as today, forgetting to watch the various people who milled in and out of the hotel. She’d been sidetracked, her attention more focused on the solitary figure of Luke Angeles.

“I'm better than you.” Ethan couldn't resist the retort but kept the expected playful jab to himself.

“Not by much.” Gil conceded with a grunt. He moved to Deborah's side, his stance protective.

“What's up, Miss Deb?” He questioned, frowning. “Is there something wrong with the boss?”

She shook her head, her gray streaked hair bobbing from side to side. There was nothing wrong with the boss, as the boy phrased it, and a wide smile creased her face.

Everything, in fact, was wonderful.

“Would you trust me?” She questioned in her soft and warbling tones. Her eyes darted from one to the other, intently seeking an answer in their somber eyes. “I wonder if you would believe me if I told you?”

Ethan nodded slowly and waited for his partner’s response. Gil frowned, his brows drawing into a deep v and his jaw clenching.

“We've seen everything possible, humanly and otherwise, in this line of work.” Brice’s whispered admission interrupted him.

“What else is there to consider?”

“Birdie sees something.” Ethan interjected in reverent tones.

Buttoning his tweed jacket, Nikolai rolled his eyes and wondered why everyone was whispering. Deborah's sight wasn't anything, normally, that caused such a reaction among the investigators.

“Tell us, Deb.” Brice insisted, his glasses sliding to the end of his nose, and smiled when she blushed.

“I was watching Luke.” She whispered the admission, afraid of being overheard. Her face remained wreathed in a broad smile, and warmth filled the shadowed depths of her eyes. She spun about on her sandaled feet and crooked a beckoning finger at the men, before pointing at the head of NADGEL.

Lucien hadn’t moved. His face was raised to the sunlight streaming through the towering glass walls and a satisfied smile curved his lips. He appeared, oddly enough, pleased with the world.

“What about him?” Nikolai questioned, unable to distinguish any change in the man who led the hodgepodge team of misfits.

“He glows.”

The comment's simplicity produced the desired effect, causing each member to look at her in disbelief. Pleased, she granted the men an immensely satisfied smile.

“Birdie,” Ethan huffed, folding his arms across his chest. “I don't understand this whole aura thing. What does he glows mean?”

Deborah lifted her fingertips back to her mouth. She appeared to stifle the laugh threatening to burst free. It was obvious she was inordinately pleased by whatever Luke Angeles had accomplished.

“She means what she said. Our fearless leader is glowing. He’s come up with an aura.” Brice provided. He frowned and, for once, he didn't push his lenses back to the bridge of his nose.

“He has an aura?”

Nikolai frowned as Deborah nodded vigorously, her body nearly bouncing with the action. A dawning sense of enlightenment flooded him and a wry grin creased his stern features.

“Luke possesses an aura.” He repeated dumbly.

“So?” Gil shrugged, wondering about the hushed excitement rippling through the group. Four sets of eyes turned toward him in marked censure. He frowned back, stubbornly refusing to see the earth shattering significance behind the woman's observation.

“You fool!” Ethan rasped, all sense of play vanishing. He scowled at his friend, his expression darkening.

“He's not a fool.” Deborah chastised, lifting a soothing hand. Her touch was light as she smoothed her fingers over the young man's troubled features, attempting to lighten the pain the words caused. “He’s not a fool. He just doesn't understand.”

“I don't understand, Miss Deb.” Gil admitted pitifully.

“I’ve never seen an aura over Luke,” she supplied, her hands fluttering as she lowered them. “Today, after Eva left, I ran across him in the hall. He was so sad, and he didn't want her to leave.”

She forced her hands to her sides, rocking side to side on sandaled feet as she recounted the events. She knew sorrow, having seen it in too many eyes on the street, but Luke’s sorrow was different. He gave the impression he was dreadfully alone in the world. Deborah understood heart-wrenching sadness, as well as she related to madness.

“When he saw me, Luke smiled. I didn't think much of it. He always smiles at me.” She rushed to interject. “It was then a white glow covered his entire body.”

“He's rejoined the world of the living?” Gil questioned, a dawning comprehension invading him. His eyes widened and he stepped back from his co-workers, dazed.

“As well as he can, being what he is.” Nikolai supplied, his attention riveted to his employer. A knowing silence followed, only interrupted by Ethan's amused chuckle.

“I don't think he'll be too pleased.”

“No, I don't.”

Deborah gasped as the lobby doors flew open with a great gust of wind. The blaring sound of car alarms sounded from the parking lot, triggered by the blast of air. The screeches and the howls echoed, mingling with the wind, drowning out all other noise. Vases shuddered on their pedestals, several falling in a great show of splintering glass. A brightly colored shower of flower petals lifted and rose, swirling about on unseen fingers before scattering wildly. The hotel patrons looked about in disbelief, and flinched with amazement.

The leader of NADGEL's response was far, far different.

To the critical and observant eyes of the people trained by him, Luke's feet rose off the marbled foyer floor. His reaction resembled a man subjected to the most debilitating of blows delivered to his mid-section, a great whoosh escaping him. His shoulders flew back, and the tails of his trench coat swirled about his legs.

Before their stunned eyes, he traveled backwards. His chin lifted and he struggled for breath, his sunglasses flying from his face. He gave the impression of being lifted by unseen hands, hovering scant inches above the floor. A long and agonized moan slipped from his pale lips, and he crumbled to the ground.

A cry of terror flew from Deborah, her fingers rising to her mouth to muffle the sound. The youths sprang into action, knowing their employer's identity was at risk. They raced from the corridor, a blur of motion, Nikolai close at their heels. Brice was immobile and tense, shock filling his features. He laid a restraining hand on Deborah's shoulder, preventing her from flying after their team members.

Lucien struck the floor, a cry of pain rising as his shoulders. He twisted, sobbing, and rolled into a fetal position. He closed his eyes, willing the pain away, his body throbbing.

He knew, from the moment of impact, what had surged through him. He was afraid to witness the anger and the power of the entity flying about the sun-brightened foyer.

Instead, he remained where he had fallen. A series of choking breaths trembled past the blueness of his lips. He didn't rise, and shivered with an intense cold never experienced during his curse.

Ethan was the first to reach him.

The youth collapsed on his knees, while Gil effectively blocked the approaching on-duty hotel manager and concerned check-in clerks. Nikolai dropped to his haunches and his expression turned dark as he pressed a heavy hand to his employer's shoulder. Gingerly, he rolled Lucien over.

“Keep them away!” Nikolai commanded roughly. “Keep everyone away!”

The command was unnecessary. Gilbert pushed people back, demanding they give their venerated employer room. Ethan, hearing startled words of concern, smiled benignly up at the gathering crowd.

“He's prone to seizures.” He made certain his voice carried across the lobby, attempting to make the episode seem minor. There was a sudden flash, and Nikolai growled deep in his throat, realizing a few spectators were taking pictures of the incident.

“None of that is necessary!”

Gilbert, with strength that defied his lanky stature, pushed through the horde. Bodies shifted, people nervously twittered, but his roughness granted the team the space desired. Ethan attempted to force calm on the crowd and shrugged.

“You don't need pictures, people.” �He commented, his tone resembling that of a serious professor. “Where's your sense of humanity?”

“Good.” Nikolai grumbled approvingly. He exhaled a relieved sigh, noticing Luke kept his eyes shut. “Play on it, boys! Play on it!”

“Yeah!” Ethan jumped to his feet. He placed a hand on Gilbert's shoulder and shot the boy a meaningful look, a silent message passing between them.

“Yeah!” Gil repeated, his eyes darting from Nikolai's bent figure, then to their employer, then to Ethan. “The Boss is prone to seizures, and it’s kind of inhuman to take pictures of a man down.”

“We should call an ambulance,” the executive interrupted, his expression worried, his staff busy shooing away the spectators.

“No!” They shouted the word in unison

The manager flinched at the suddenness of the sound, as did many others.

“It’s under control,” Nikolai growled, his words hanging. His hand remained on the fallen man's shoulder, effectively forcing him to remain prone. His large body concealed the pale, pain-filled features from the dispersing crowd. “This is nothing we aren't accustomed to dealing with, when it comes to our Mr. Angeles.”

“Our hotel can't be blamed…” the manager interposed raggedly, the fear of a potential lawsuit foremost in his mind.

“It happens all the time.” Gil interjected complacently, shrugging with the explanation. “It's nothing to worry about, trust me.”

“The seizures are stuff you don't see on the show,” Ethan added, keeping his expression sincere.

“Nikolai?” Lucien uttered the name in a low voice, the quivers ebbing. His eyes remained closed and he lifted the heavy weight of a gloved hand from his side. The appendage hovered in the air for a long moment before settling lightly on the Russian's hand.

“Don't open your eyes,” Nikolai ordered gruffly. His employer wasn't one to accept physical contact, nor was it something given. “There are still too many people around.”

“Too many…”

“You can't risk opening your eyes.”

“You know?”

The question escaped Lucien in a low whisper, the disbelief obvious.

“We’ve always known.” Nikolai supplied as another low groan slipped from the pained man.

“How?”

Ethan fell to his knees. He hadn’t missed the low-voiced exchange and couldn’t prevent a wicked grin.

“You insisted on infrared cameras.” He interjected lightly, although the words trembled. He wiped the panicked beads of sweat from his brow before he placed his hand on the man's shoulder.

Lucien groaned, and the unfamiliar rush of hot and cold chills flooded him.

“My downfall was caused by infrared cameras?” He managed, releasing Nikolai's hand as the Russian moved to assist him to his feet.

“You got some funny eyes, dude.” Gil admitted.

“When we're working and using those cameras, everyone else's eyes look like…well, eyes. You look at a camera and,”  Ethan shrugged, his smile vanishing. He struggled for the proper words and resigned himself to the inability. “Your eyes are like WOW, dude!”

Lucien rose to his feet, his eyes still shut and his complexion paler than normal. He wavered for a moment, his footing uncertain, and his expression troubled. He kept his eyes closed, unprepared for the feel of Brice's hand as it pressed his sunglasses into his palm.

He detected the sound of Gil moving across the lobby, pulling the last of the spectators and the hotel staff after him. He heard Deborah's sandals clicking on the foyer floor as she neared, and smelled the pipe tobacco lingering on Brice's coat. Nikolai's hand remained on his shoulder, steadying him.

Hesitantly, Lucien placed the lenses over his eyes and focused on the group. They stared back, varying degrees of concern in their expressions, and he felt humbled.

“You can touch me?”

They nodded in unison.

“Birdie says you glow.” Ethan whispered in awe.

“When did this miracle occur?”

“This morning,” Deborah chirped with a shy smile. “I knew we could touch you when your aura began to glow.”

“Infrared cameras and an aura?” Lucien released a tight breath, feeling his heart flutter in his chest. He rolled his shoulders, attempted to ease the pain filling him, and winced.

“Nope,” Nikolai managed in his gravelly voice. “I would say a woman led to your downfall.”

Sometime, during the hours he had spent in Evangeline's embrace, his world had changed.

“Do you know what I am?”

They nodded somberly.

“We were never the ones to judge you, Luke.”  Nikolai growled.

“Never the ones,”  Deborah chirped again, shaking her head, and tears filled her eyes as she recalled her past. “You saved us, when our world was at its worst.”

“Yep,” Ethan echoed the sentiment. “So the boss man’s is a little different? We're all weird, in our own way.”

“We owe you,”  Brice's words didn't register as a renewed keening burst of wind filled the lobby. The sound rose high, resembling an outrage screech of pain, before dropping off into a weighty silence.

“What the hell was that?” Ethan questioned, watching the lobby chandelier swing in a wide arc above their heads.

Lucien's head cocked to the side and he listened to the whispering tones of a desperate voice. He pulled in a trembling breath, the exhalation leaving him in short gasps of disbelief.

His attention became riveted on a spot past his team members. The entity that had made such an entrance into the hotel, the shadow wreaking havoc, stood defiantly before him. Lucien's mouth tightened into a grim line and intense anger flushed his face crimson.

Despite the human essence flooding him, the coursing blood, the beating heart, or the breath trembling past his lips, he retained the part of him linked to the other world.

….and Reese was screaming his name.