Fighting the Flames (Firefighter Romance #1)(60)

“How do I look?” the man asked.

“A little younger than I expected,” Toby admitted, narrowing his eyes. “Is this your true form?”

“No, but you can't handle that. No one can.” The man touched his nose and glanced to the floor.

“Do you look the same way for everyone?”

“No. I take on the shape that would be most pleasing for the one I reveal myself to.”

“Why this shape for me?”

“Because this is how your own son would have looked had he lived.”

Toby sucked in his breath. He hadn't told anyone about his son. Not even his own family—not that they would have cared. If Trevor had lived, he would have been about twenty now. He pushed the pain of that realization away and focused on the young man before him.

“So you're the Keeper of Souls.” Toby crossed his arms. “And what is your job exactly?”

“Uh… I keep souls. I sort of think the answer to that question is in the job title.”

“How long have you been doing this?”

“Several centuries. I think the last time I saw the real world was around 1616.”

Toby gave a low whistle. “Wow. You've missed a lot.”

“Not really. I have my ways of connecting with the outside world.” The man smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. “When I drain a soul, I see a glimpse of their life. It allows me to keep current with the times.”

“Drain a soul?” Toby raised an eyebrow as his eyes skimmed around the younger man. Nothing else existed beyond him.

“Oh, yeah. Whoever controls the box traps the souls in here. It's my job to punish them.”

“I don't understand.” He had never heard of a Keeper of Souls before. None of the books spoke of the box aside from its true purpose.

“You aren't exactly the brightest wizard around, are you?” The man shook his head. “Look, my family comes from a long Irish ancestry. That means we've got a lot of bad blood, a lot of enemies that need to be punished. The Keeper of the Box finds these enemies, sucks their soul into the void, and then it's my job to torture them.”

“How did you get this job?”

“Every five hundred years, there is one person in our family who is the lucky one destined to do the job. It was my turn.”

“That sucks,” Toby said.

“I know. The next soul keeper isn't due for another hundred years.”

“How do souls get in the box?”

“The family banshee has to collect them. See, the good souls in the family go to the next realm. They're the lucky ones. The bad ones in the family all end up here.” The young man stepped a little closer to Toby. “Your energy looks clean, though. I don't even see the O'Grady mark on you.”

“That's because I'm not from one of the Irish families.”

“Where does your family originate, then?”


“Germany.”

“Germany? What a cesspool.”

“So now that you know I'm not part of your family, how do I get out?” Toby looked around again, but darkness still lay everywhere. “Like I said, Jacqueline put me in here by mistake.”

“She's an interesting one. Heard a bit of buzz about her.”

“From who?”

“From the souls her predecessor dropped in here recently.” The man nodded as Toby’s forehead wrinkled. “Even though the banshee had her powers split with Jacqueline, she was still doing her job for the last year. She collected the bad souls that passed on in our family tree. But most of them had heard about this new hybrid thing that Jacqueline is. She's pretty popular, even if she doesn't know it.”

“The wizards all want her for themselves,” Toby said speaking of the Brotherhood.

The man chuckled. “Don't be na?ve. It isn't just the wizards. All the supernaturals want her for the same reason. She can destroy an enemy just by singing to them. Even our family would like to take advantage of that.”

“Some family.” Toby scoffed but his wasn’t much better.

“Poor girl won't ever be safe as long as she stays split—one foot in the living world, one foot in the grave.” The man leveled with Toby as the humor eased from his features. “Look, the only option for her is death. If she dies, she becomes a regular banshee, a reaper who just collects souls but can't remove them.”

Toby lowered his gaze. The hag had indicated the same to him the night he’d killed her. Jacqueline had to die, had even told her so, but knowing didn't make ending her any easier. She was different. Somehow, he knew this but he didn’t understand it.

The thought of Jacqueline's death twisted his insides and made him want to find another way. She made him care.

No. He couldn't afford to think like that. It wasn't like he had feelings for her. About her, yes. But for her… no. Or did he?

“You are a man at war with himself.” The man eyed Toby with interest and tilted his head. “You want out?”

“Yes.”

“Fine, I can grant that. But I'm coming with you.”

“Is that a good idea?” Toby peered into the darkness. “What will happen to the souls in here if you leave? I heard them screaming and moaning a little while ago.”