Soul Savers: Faith Part 17

"He wasn't my friend," I snapped, my teeth on edge at the mention of the hunter's name. Tristan had tensed next to me, as well. "More like my punching bag."

Tristan relaxed and even smiled. Neither of us had fond feelings for James. He'd been one of the last people I'd trusted and been betrayed by as a teen, leading me to punching him in the nose when he called my mom a wh.o.r.e. Of all the people who could have shown up, he'd been with Carlie's group as one of the supernatural hunters.

"Well, he certainly won't be your friend now." Owen turned to face us, walking backwards. "He'd known about this place all along. Shelter, food, a water supply, weapons ..."

"What?" I demanded. "How? And he never mentioned it to Carlie?"

"Claims he thought it was too far away for the group to reach safely," Vanessa said. "Which, you have to admit, it probably was for the Normans. We're in Kansas, of all places. James didn't know about Owen's portals, and probably wouldn't have used one anyway because of his whole issue with the supernatural." She snorted. "So it would have taken weeks for them to get here from D.C. They would have never made it with the gangs and Daemoni out there."

"When he had no choice, James finally spilled, though. He knew about the place because Brogan's his uncle," Owen said. "Although Brogan won't have much to do with him anymore. He agrees with the rest of us that James is an a.s.s."

"So who is Brogan exactly, and what is this place?" I asked one more time.

Owen stopped walking, and so did the rest of us. We stood among shelves stacked with fifty-gallon plastic boxes marked "FLOUR" and "RICE."

"Brogan was a general in the Army, and when he retired, he started The Prepper's Stash House," Owen started.

"The Prepper's Stash House?" Tristan interrupted as though he knew what that was.

"The world's biggest supplier of survival gear and know-how," Vanessa confirmed, sounding as though she quoted a motto. It sounded vaguely familiar to me.

"Supplier of the goods and the knowledge," Owen added. "Said he saw the writing on the wall when he was in the military and knew something was coming down, so he wanted to help people learn how to survive the end of the world as we'd known it. He had no idea supernatural creatures would bring it on, though, so he'd never expected to be turned."

"James thought Brogan was dead, so he took off and left him." Disgust colored Vanessa's tone. I thought she might despise James more than I did. "Brogan got attacked by a Kansas City nest and woke up as a baby vamp with n.o.body around to help. James brought us here at the last minute when he saw the mushroom clouds, and we had to subdue Brogan right away. He missed out on the first week of the apocalypse while being converted."

And now I fully understood Vanessa's contempt for James. His betrayal of my trust when we were teenagers was nothing compared to what he'd done when s.h.i.t hit the fan. What a coward.

"So Brogan's one of those doomsday prepper guys?" I asked. "Like the ones everyone used to make fun of?"

"The king of them," Owen said. "Started his business from scratch and made himself millions, all of which he used to develop this place."

"And what, exactly, is this place?" I asked once again. "His bugout bunker?"

"Oh, it's much more than a bunker," Vanessa said. "I hate to admit it, but even I was impressed when I first saw it."

"Because this is The Prepper's Stash House. And more." Owen lifted his hand to indicate the rows of shelves we'd stopped next to. "Food, first aid, equipment, filled water tanks ... His company's whole inventory was stored down here, enough to keep him and several hundred people going for many months-years if we can keep supplementing it."

"But that's not all," Vanessa said as she began walking again. I started to feel like we were in a late-night TV infomercial. The kind that didn't exist anymore. "This was also his training facility, where people would come on their vacations to learn all kinds of survival and preparations for the worst. So he had a lot of the facilities and s.p.a.ce already here for that."

"People spent their vacations here? Underground?" I shuddered at the thought. At least this place was large and somewhat illuminated, rather than small like the rock island or pitch-black with screaming souls, like h.e.l.l. But still-not exactly my first choice of a vacation destination.

"Crazy prepper people, huh?" Owen asked, sarcasm lacing his tone.

"I'd say pretty smart, considering," Tristan said. He took my hand and gave it a squeeze. "Means there are a lot of people out there who were prepared for the worst."

I didn't reply. How many of them really expected how bad the worst would be? Had they truly been prepared? Considering the fall of religion and the declining number of people who believed in G.o.d before everything went to h.e.l.l, I highly doubted they had been. But maybe, just maybe, there were some who'd managed to survive anyway.

We followed Vanessa and Owen around the corner of Section 107 with its rows of shelves, and fifty yards farther, we came to a junction in the road that made my jaw drop. Tristan let out a low whistle.

"It's huuuuge," Owen said, drawing out the word. With the amount of pride in his voice, you'd think he'd built the place himself. "Over three million square feet, with air filtration, electricity, and some of it even has basic plumbing. Dude, we couldn't have wished for a better place. It's a gift from G.o.d."

I'd have to think about the G.o.d comment later. I was too stunned by the scene in front of me to address it.

The lane we stood on stretched out in front of us for at least a quarter-mile, the end disappearing into the edges of darkness. The crossroad, for lack of another word, intersected ours right in front of us, going a few hundred yards to my left and a couple to my right. The ceiling stood at least twenty-five, maybe thirty feet high, lined with neat rows of pipes, cords, and fluorescent lights. Only every third light worked, however, the others empty of bulbs, presumably for conservation. After all, who knew when light bulbs would be manufactured again?

Owen pointed to our left, where faint gunshots sounded like pops. "There's a huge area here for various kinds of training. A gun range, an archery range, a gym with machines and weight room, cla.s.srooms, etcetera, etcetera. But this way-" he turned to our right "-we have the Armory, Medical, Engineering, and a Conversion Center."

I tilted my head to look down the hallway. "Conversion Center?"

"Exactly the kind you're thinking," Owen said. "I promised you food, though, so we'll come back if you want to check it out."

He led us down the road between limestone pillars that were at least ten feet wide and thirty feet long. Between each support, cinder blocks had been stacked to create walls to block off the different sections. The smell of freshly baked bread and some kind of meat wafted down the hallway, making my mouth water. But that wasn't what had me nearly running in its direction. I could barely contain myself when I found the two mind signatures.

I jogged through a huge, open section, winding my way around mismatched tables and pushing chairs out of my way, past another pillar, and through a swinging door in a cinderblock wall. A dozen or more people hustled and bustled around the kitchen, preparing large vats of food. I continued to the back, where three industrial ovens lined the wall and found a slight woman with big b.o.o.bs and a bun of blond hair piled on her head pulling out a tray of bread loaves. She almost dropped them when she saw me.

"Alexis!" She squealed, practically throwing the tray and the oven mitts at the counter and running to me. She wiped her hands on her short, black cotton dress before throwing her arms around my neck. "Oh my G.o.d! You're alive! Are you okay? Where have you been? Everybody's been worried sick, looking for you guys. I'm so glad you're here! And I'm so sorry about Dorian. One second he was with us, and the next he was gone. We thought he just went to the bathroom, but ... I'm so sorry, Alexis, I really am. I was so devastated, and I know you'll never be able to forgive me-"

"It wasn't your fault, Blossom," I said without letting her go. "He was apparently h.e.l.l-bent on leaving. He's on a mission ..." I couldn't get into it now. "Just know that there's nothing to forgive you for. You did nothing wrong."

"I don't deserve it, but thank you." Her whole body relaxed in my arms, and the tone of her voice lifted. "This place is amazing, and we keep doing more with it. Did Owen and Vanessa tell you? I guess you saw Charlotte already. Hey, what about the baby? Is she okay? You don't look big ..."

She finally trailed off when she pulled away from me and looked me over. Her babbling didn't bother me, though. I'd missed it so much. Even before the worst happened, she hadn't been her normal ninety-miles-a-minute talkative self. I could already tell that being here, especially in the kitchen, was what she needed.

"Hey, hands off! That's my-Princess?" a deep voice with an Australian accent asked from behind us as Tristan and Blossom hugged.

I spun around to find a stout, bald man with a large box of flour on his shoulder. "Jax!"

Other people around the kitchen gave us a quizzical look. A few recognized Tristan and me, and I knew their faces from Carlie's group, but others must have been newcomers who'd joined them.

"Are you hungry?" Blossom asked, and she must have seen the answer written all over my face. "Of course you are! Go find a seat out there so we can let these guys work, and I'll get you some food and bring it out. Oh my gosh, I can't believe you're really here!"

She gave me one more hug before shooing us out the swinging door and into the dining room. Right by the door to the kitchen, flanked by another door on the far side, was a serving bar. As we weaved our way through the path of picnic tables, plastic patio tables, round wooden tables, and cafeteria folding tables, I could see around the corner of the kitchen, where there was another set of doors with a serving bar between them, allowing two food stations for a large crowd. Mismatched plates were stacked at the end of both bars, but the centers, where trays of food should sit, were empty. I had no idea the time of day, but it must not have been a normal mealtime. Except for a few people sitting at small, round tables on the outer fringe of the dining area, we had the place to ourselves. Owen led us to one of the larger, cafeteria-style tables.

"How many people are here, Scarecrow?" Tristan asked as he lifted his long legs over the bench seat. I joined him as Owen and Vanessa sat across from us.

"Mom said 438 as of yesterday ... 440 now. And a half." He gave us a grin. "And we still have tons of s.p.a.ce. We could easily take double or even triple that as long as we can keep the food and water supplies going."

"One nice thing about being a vamp," Vanessa said. "We're not high maintenance."

Owen c.o.c.ked his head and lifted a brow.

"What?" she asked. "Blood is a renewable and sustainable resource ... as long as we don't kill the supplier."

Owen snorted. "Anyway, as I was saying ... we use magic to keep some things operating, but there's not a lot we can do about food and water. Not when it's as bad as everything is up top. There's a huge garden area where Brogan had already started growing vegetables and grains, but that won't be sustainable for a while."

"I sense a lot of Amadis mind signatures among the Normans," I said. "At least a quarter of the people here?"

Owen grinned. "They'll want to know you're here, if they don't already. Thought we'd keep it on the down low until you're fed and cleaned up."

"As if we can't smell you," a familiar female voice said from behind me, and I thought my face would crack when I spun around on the bench.

I'd sensed her mind signature before from the area Owen had called Medical, and I'd been too afraid to explore it further. I was sure she was still laid up in bed, barely holding on to life, as she had been the last time I'd seen her, and I'd wanted to eat, rest, and mentally prepare myself for seeing her. But here Sheree was, up on her two feet, her tall, thin body hobbling between the tables, using a crutch under her right arm for support. Tears filled my eyes as I stood to greet her. I wanted to give her a bear hug, but was afraid I'd hurt her.

"I'm okay," she said with her signature warm smile that exposed almost all of her teeth and lit up her brown eyes. "My leg doesn't work quite the same as it used to, when I'm human anyway. It's annoying, but that's all. Fit as a tiger, otherwise."

We embraced in a tight hug before she joined us at the table. Blossom and Jax brought out soup and bread, and Tristan and I had barely taken our first bite when the questions started flying again.

"I think Char plans on all of us meeting at that Intake room," I said around a mouthful of delicious, warm bread. "There's lots to talk about. Tristan and I aren't done fighting. We have to stop Lucas ... and Dorian."

"Of course we aren't done fighting," Owen said. "As long as the Daemoni walk freely, we're still at war."

I paused with the spoon midway to my mouth and looked around. Everyone nodded in agreement with Owen's declaration. I hadn't expected this after seeing them so happy with being here in The Loft. Why would they want to leave the security of this place to fight an unwinnable war? Tristan and I had Dorian to worry about, otherwise, I couldn't say I'd be so willing to go to battle again. Not when there were no other souls left worth saving.

"We haven't stopped fighting," Sheree said. "Which means, I better get back to work. I just wanted to come say 'hi' for a minute, but we can catch up later."

"Where's work?" I asked as she pushed herself up to her feet.

Before she could answer me, a loud alarm buzzed throughout the cavern. Sheree's head snapped up.

"Yep, definitely got to go," she said.

I jumped to my feet and followed after her. "Where? What's going on?"

The walkie-talkie hanging on her jeans-clad hip came to life with Charlotte's voice. "Sheree, the group's returned, bringing two in for you. Do you need help? Over."

She slowed her fast-paced hobble, unclipped the device, and held it to her mouth. "Ten-four. We should be fine, thanks. Over."

"Two what?" I asked as we hurried down the pa.s.sageway. We pa.s.sed the Medical sections, and then hung a left. At that moment, Charlotte turned into the corridor, using her magic to guide two unconscious people-a red-headed man and an Asian woman-down the way, toward a door in the far corner of the entire s.p.a.ce. Silver blades protruded from their chests, at their hearts. Vampires.

"Conversions, of course," Sheree answered as we followed Char through the door marked, well, Conversion Center. "That's my work."

My mouth fell slightly open as I looked around the s.p.a.ce about the size of two football fields, some areas blocked off with shower curtains and sheets turned into curtains. Three beds in one corner were occupied with what I sensed as an Amadis Were and two vampires. The energy coming off of them told me they were newly converted. Two Amadis vampires sat with them, their discussion topic one that was always covered during faith healing. My heart and soul dared to lift just a little bit with hope.

"Do you get a lot?" I asked.

Sheree shrugged as she picked up a clipboard and handed it to me. "A few a week."

"Really?"

"There were a lot of people turned against their will, Alexis. Sonya and Alys go out with the hunters, and they're finding them, slowly but surely."

She hurried off to help Charlotte get the two newcomers situated. Blossom jogged into the room, followed by another Amadis mage.

"Kitchen's good," Blossom said as she rushed over to Sheree's side. "I can help."

I glanced down at the clipboard that contained a chart of names listed with their species, intake dates, location found, and release dates. I flipped through three pages of them, totaling ninety-five newly converted Amadis. That was nearly as many Amadis as I'd sensed in the entire compound, which meant we hadn't found many of our own, but those here were successfully helping others. Increasing our numbers.

Building our army.

No. Not going there. I could not allow myself to think that way. Even with a hundred newly converted souls, we were nowhere near the Daemoni's numbers. Not with all the Normans they'd turned during their takeover of the world. Not with all the Demons Lucas had brought in from the Otherworld. We wouldn't have a fighting chance in h.e.l.l. Or in h.e.l.l on Earth, as it was.

I set the clipboard onto the makeshift desk-a piece of plywood sitting across two stacks of buckets-from where Sheree had grabbed it. Charlotte and Blossom had already secured the vamps to two beds with silver handcuffs, ankle chains, and magic, and they were about to remove the blades from the vampires' hearts, so I sauntered a few steps closer. I wasn't sure I had enough power in me to help. When they slid the blades out of the hearts, the vamps awakened, and both of them jerked against the magical constraints, lifting their heads and shoulders off the beds. Their glowing red eyes immediately landed on me. Evil energy surged into the air.

The room fell dark.

"She's ours," they both hissed, only their voices didn't sound right. "OURS."

No, they sounded like Satan. Satan's voice yelling at me, calling for me, sending his Demons after me, and I was suddenly back in the blackness of h.e.l.l. The hospital-like area of the Conversion Center had disappeared, and I stood by the lake of fire, hands grabbing at my ankles, my calves, my thighs ... pulling me down.

"Alexis." The voice came from far away.

Chapter 18.

A jolt in my stomach made me gasp, and for a moment, I thought the burning souls had me. But another twinge brought me back to the Conversion Center, my heart racing and my palms sweating. I blinked. Everybody was focused on the two vampires. n.o.body seemed to have noticed my momentary freak-out that I could only blame on the demonic energy in the room. The little being inside me was going berserk, making my stomach clench and turn.

"Alexis," Vanessa said again. She'd been the one calling me a moment ago.

"Bathroom?" I choked.

"This way." She waved me through the door.

I followed her out and down a corridor that pa.s.sed on the other side of the Medical sections from the main road. As we came closer to the kitchen again, approaching it from a different angle than before, my stomach actually settled rather than worsened from the smells. I still hurried through the Women's door, just in case, past a bank of six sinks with mirrors over them, and down a short pa.s.sage with a line of six showers on one side and six doors to toilets on the other. By the time I reached one safely, the urge to puke had subsided, although the smell in the room didn't help.

As I leaned against the bathroom wall to slow my breaths and heart rate, I considered how it actually hadn't been an urge to vomit that had overcome me. Baby Girl-she had to be a girl-inside me had reacted to the Daemoni's evil energy just like I had. What had me worried was that I didn't know if she responded to it like I had, with fear and repulsion, or if it had beckoned to her.

"Are you okay?" Vanessa asked from the sink area.

"Um ... yeah, fine." I exhaled a long breath as I stepped out of the bathroom stall. I gave her the best smile I could manage. "False alarm."

She eyed me with her icy blues. "Good thing. You can't afford to lose the food you just ate."

I nodded as I walked up to a sink and turned the water on. Or tried to-nothing came out.

"This one." Vanessa tapped the porcelain edge of the one closest to her. "There are all kinds of limits on water here. You get two showers a week on your designated days. All of the sinks' taps are only open in the morning for quick hand, face, and teeth washings. The rest of the time, water's only supplied to this one, and the faucets only let so much out before they shut off for five minutes."

The last point proved itself when the faucet I'd been washing my hands under suddenly went dry. I rubbed the water on my hands over my face before making sure the handle was turned to the off position.

"And one of their number one rules for more reasons than one: If it's yellow, let it mellow. If it's brown, flush it down." She wrinkled her nose. "Disgusting."

My nose lifted to match her expression. "That explains the smell."