Soul With Sympathy

Marianne Lowe

Soul With Sympathy

A M/M Romantic Thriller

Copyright © 2020 by Marianne Lowe

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

First edition

This book was professionally typeset on Reedsy

Find out more at reedsy.com

Contents

1. Chapter 1

2. Chapter 2

3. Chapter 3

4. Chapter 4

5. Chapter 5

6. Chapter 6

7. Chapter 7

1

Chapter 1

Even though the rain was heavy, the deed had been done long ago. Devin was there to see the ancient, holy walls collapse into nothing, the screams rise into the black sky like chased birds. He couldn’t revel in the sight for long, though. Soon, he heard the alarming echo of police sirens approaching through the dirt road, right when the first few drops of rain started falling. One of the rats must have called them. A few stayed behind to examine the damage. Others took off along with their manic hounds, chasing after Devin as he dashed through the forest, going to where his feet were carrying him.

Like all men who relied on anger to fuel their lives, Devin had foolishly acted on impulse, not giving much thought to the aftermath.

He could hear voices barking commands but they soon died out, covered first by the ceaseless barking and the force of the downpour. He was drenched within seconds. His heavy leather jacket felt like dead weight, his clothes had become second skin. His hair clung on his neck and his eyes stung as mascara flowed into them, melted eyeliner rolling down his face in black rivulets. Sweat was rolling down his body but it froze in the cold rain. His chest was heaving, legs already feeling a little sore. The dogs were getting closer. He kept running, searching for a means of salvation. He was familiar with the area to a certain extent. He knew there was a river nearby, not deep enough to drown him but certainly deep enough to carry him somewhere, preferably to one of the riverside caves. He could hide there. There were way too many and just a handful of people knew about them all.

His army boots were flooding with water, making his feet like lifeless chunks of ice. This little chase couldn’t go on for much longer. In the far distance, between the rain, his own ragged breathing, and the howling dogs, he singled out the flow of the river. It had probably overflowed but Devin estimated it still wouldn’t kill him. Or hoped so. He wasn’t meant to die here. This was just another test of fate.

The short moment he paused to try and pinpoint the river, the hounds were within sight. He took off like a man on fire, cursing under his breath. The agile animals cut through the terrain with almost no difficulty but Devin was having trouble moving as the time progressed. With every step his feet were buried up to his ankles in mud and wet leaves, he kept stumbling over protruding roots and stray rocks. Anyone else would have discarded the unnecessarily heavy leather jacket but Devin didn’t do for two reasons; one, because it had his scent and so the dogs would track him down more easily and two, the aesthetic. With profanities that would make a demon gasp hissed behind gritted teeth, Devin kept moving as fast as he could.

Devin had lost the track of time. The light remained the same. Bleak, gray, dull, bathing the forest under the foliage silver. The rain had gotten heavier and the raindrops were falling on his frigid skin like needles, viciously assaulting every inch of his body. He was shivering. The ground was slippery. His balance was off. He was desperately clinging onto whatever tree he could find while his pursuers were unyielding. To his great relief, he caught the first glimpse of the river down the slope he was standing on. In a moment of extraordinary brilliance, Devin decided to jog down the slippery slope. He lost his balance and his body rolled down the slope. He heard a graphic crack that he knew wasn’t of wood but of bone.

He landed on the wet grass on his back, the rain endlessly falling on his face. All air left his lungs in a big gasp, eyes wide and letting the water in. Slowly, he sat up, supporting himself on his shaky arms. His left leg was bent in an unnatural angle as a large piece of wood was protruding from it. Warm blood was pouring from the wound, pooling under his leg. Devin gawked at the sight in horror. He tried moving his legs but all his attempts were met with sharp twinges of pain rocking his body. Shakily, he wrapped his hands around the wooden stick. He tried moving it around, cringing at the wet, squelching sound. The sharp end inside him brushed a nerve and he growled, muffling his scream by clenching his jaw. He gripped harder, tugging at the wood with more force. He was panting, huffing short, angry breaths. His teeth were grinding hard, the unsavory friction sending shivers down his spine. He tried taking a calming breath. He exhaled. He pulled at the wood hard, a scream tearing from his throat as blood gushed out of the wound. His vision blurred, heart leaping to his mouth. He could feel his gut churn at the sight of the damage. The sourness of bile filled his mouth and he emptied his stomach on the wet ground, gagging harshly as more threatened to spill out.

He was shaking more than before. Though he couldn’t see it, his face was like a sheet of paper, lips shriveled and trembling. He could feel the edges of his consciousness blurring. With a heart that was threatening to burst through his ribcage at any moment, he looked at the top of the slope and saw five dogs, five German Shepherds, panting and waiting to jump at him. They weren’t going to kill him, just keep him cornered until the cops arrived. Then, he was going to die.

Fate, he told himself, this was another test of fate. He stared into their lustrous black eyes and before the dogs could move, he had rolled over and into the water. He gasped as he surfaced, spitting mouthfuls of cold water. He was met with protests whenever he tried moving a single muscle. Having no other choice, Devin let his limp body get carried by the stream. He managed to float, clinging onto pieces of driftwood for dear life. The angered waves pushed his weak body around, making him crash viciously against the rocks, like a ball in a pinball machine. He could feel the sharp edges of whatever junk was in the water with him dig into his already battered body. A faint trail of red followed him, marking his path. His life force was drained with his blood. He couldn’t stay in the river any longer. He had to get out and fast. But go where?

In a short distance, barely visible past the curtain of rain, he saw the shadow of an imposing building. He caught the golden glint of a cross at the top of a massive tower, reflecting whatever light it could find. Mustering all his strength, he grabbed on a flimsy tree close to the bank, trying to pull his body onto the solid ground. The waves came crashing hard against him, threatening to take him further down, fill his body and send him into his doom. He held onto the bendy trunk harder, getting closer to the edge. The thin roots of the young tree were slowly giving in, separating from the ground. He tugged harder, huffing and puffing like an old train.

With superhuman effort, he managed to hoist his body onto the bank. Breathless, he lay there, letting the freezing rain lash at his face. This was no time to be sitting. The church’s entrance was but a few meters away. Every fiber of his body screamed as he helped himself get up. Nausea shook him to the core and for the second time in less than an hour, Devin emptied his stomach right in front of his feet. The bile came out watery, and a little bloody. He wasn’t conscious enough to be distraught over this. Moving like a drying slug, Devin crawled over the wet pasture, carrying his cold, dead leg like an anchor behind him. He didn’t look anywhere else but the wooden doors of the monastery. A little bit more, he told himself as he kept moving.

Sanctuary! he screamed with all the strength he had, voice hoarser than usual and throat unreasonably dry. His fists slammed on the door, making it rattle. He didn’t have more power to scream a second time. Hopefully, just one would be enough.

The last thing he remembered before collapsing on the wet ground was the shriek of the police sirens and the sound of a door opening.

* * *

He registered the warmth and dryness long before his eyes opened. Time felt like jelly, he was shifting between consciousness and unconsciousness, mind completely buttery. A dull throb was running all over his body, barely painful but enough to make him feel nauseous. Next thing he realized was that he was laying on something soft, with warm layers thrown over him. He was completely naked, he could feel it, but he wasn’t cold in the slightest. If anything, he was burning. He assumed he had a fever, a quite ferocious one at that. Faintly, he heard the cracking of fire. The sound became clearer as he stirred awake. He groaned as he opened his eyes, trying to realize what the hell was going on. Blurry shapes and muted colors danced in front of his eyes. He closed them again. He heard a huff, something resembling a laugh.

Good morning, spoke a voice, a sweet, low murmur, clear and comforting.

Devin felt a damp cloth being pressed against his flaming forehead. He moaned at the welcoming sensation and the person above him laughed again. He opened his eyes again, this time trying hard to keep them open. And he saw…an angel.