Eric stood there, golden eyes wide as he looked around the cavern. The more he craned his neck to take in his surroundings the more tense his arms and back became. I turned to Collin and asked quietly, “Why is he staring like he doesn’t know where he is?”
I rose and walked toward Eric, reaching for him slowly. He seemed lost. Like he wasn’t sure what happened or how he got here. His fingers clenched into fists. I understood why Collin didn’t just take me and leave. He knew I needed Eric. Stepping closer, Eric startled and spun on his heel. His hands were in fists, close to his body. Defending himself.
I put up my hands, palms facing him, “Easy, Eric. Don’t you … ” but my voice died in my throat. The skin above his brow was smooth. Where was his mark? His scar? My voice was stuck in the back of my throat, trying to speak, but nothing came out. I stared wide-eyed, blinking slowly as Eric gazed at me. His hands slowly lowered to his sides, but the tension came back as soon as Collin stepped toward me.
Collin whispered in my ear, “I thought he was dead, but he woke up a second before you and started to move around. I’m not sure he remembers anything, but the look on his face says he does. I think he’s just got holes in his memory, and is trying to fit the pieces back together. Having your soul back can do that. It’ll pass. But that,” Collin nodded, “that is permanent.” He saw it too. No mark. Collin paused for a second, his eyes watching Eric. “Whatever you did to him worked better than what Kreturus did to me, but it seems to have had an unpredicted outcome.”
Eric stared at both of us, recognition forming in his eyes. His gaze narrowed in first on Collin and then when it slid to me, scorn flashed brightly behind his eyes. He swallowed hard and redirected his gaze toward Collin, arms folded across his chest. Eric’s voice sounded like the scornful Valefar version, “What? What now?” He shook his head, demanding an answer.
I stepped in front of him and reached for his hair. I had to be sure that the mark hadn’t moved. I had to see for myself. As my fingers grazed his hair, Eric’s hand shot out. His fingers wrapped tightly around my wrist, stopping me from touching him. It was completely beyond my comprehension as to how this could have happened. It wasn’t possible. I couldn’t be seeing what was so plainly clear. Eric’s hair was filled with dirt and blood, clinging to his head. Smears of mud clung to his face. He’d tried to wipe it away. But it wasn’t the blood, dirt, or wounds that made me falter. His fingers pressed into my arm as he shook it and threw it away from him. The jolt helped me find my voice. Locking onto his golden eyes, I said, “Your mark is gone.” There was no trace of his Valefar scar. There was no lingering Martis mark in its place. There was nothing. I couldn’t stop staring. My mouth hung open, completely shocked.
Eric pressed his fingers to his head. His eyebrows pinched together as if he didn’t believe me. But the shock that was so clearly plastered across my face made it impossible to ignore. Eric turned toward the Pool. He fell to his knees and glanced at his reflection. His voice came out in a shallow puff of air, “Well, what the fuck does that mean?”
Eric’s eyes were wide. For a split second, I could see fear behind them, fear which was quickly masked with anger. He practically snarled at me, but I didn’t understand what happened. Souls couldn’t merge with a body, not if the soul was good—which Eric’s was—and the body was corrupt. The two became separate, acquiring different characteristics that made them impossible to fuse. That was what happened to Collin. That was why his soul was damaged and miniscule. Kreturus destroyed it, twisting it, trying to force it into a body that had done heinous things. Confusion lined my face. There were only two logical reasons—I was able to do what Kreturus couldn’t—or Eric never drained a soul from a mortal.
I turned to Collin with my mouth hanging open, and my brows at different shocked heights, asking the questions that were running through my mind. “How could this be? He was a Valefar. He had to kill to survive. That wasn’t optional, was it?” Collin shook his head. I stared at Eric as his irritation grew as he listened, gazing in the water at his smooth skin. “I didn’t think his soul would even go back into his body after what he’d done, but the two bonded like drops of water.”
Collin stepped toward Eric. The movement made Eric stop staring at his reflection and jump to his feet. It didn’t matter what he was—he didn’t trust Collin. Collin glanced at Eric and then back at me. “It shouldn’t have. Something’s wrong here. It appears that he’s no longer claimed by anyone. That’s what the mark and scars are—a claim of ownership. You broke my blood bargain with Kreturus, but my scar is still on my head. It changed, but it’s not gone. This is suspicious.” Collin touched his chin with his fingers and circled Eric. Eric remained silent, as tension built within every muscle of his body. Eric’s eyes narrowed into slits, watching. His fingers curled into fists at his sides. “The only way for his body to accept his soul would be if he failed to perform his basic Valefar right.” Collin folded his arms. A surprised expression moved across his face. He asked Eric, “How’d you survive if you didn’t kill? That’s the only way for a Valefar to live. We have to demon kiss a victim, and steal their soul. If we don’t, we die. So how’d you avoid it?”
Shock slammed into me again. Eric was an evil bastard. I made him that way. He killed lots of people. He did. He had to. But, as I stared at him slack-jawed, I wasn’t so sure. Was it even possible? Shaking my head, I stepped between them and said, “It doesn’t matter. We have to leave. Now.” A frantic feeling was creeping up my spine.