by Kate Martin
“I always seem to find you in places like this.”
Bri snapped his head up at the soft, amused voice. A bolt of pain lanced through his neck, but cleared when he saw her smiling face. “Ella.”
She wore a blue dress the color of the summer sky, trimmed with white, and accented with silver. Her blonde curls hung around her shoulders, pinned and braided to keep them out of her face. “Can I sit with you?”
“Of-of course.” Bri slid down the bench to make room. “I didn’t know you would be here,” he said as she smoothed her skirt and sat beside him.
“Your cousin did the invites, did she?”
“Very much so. Though I am glad she included you. I don’t know a single person here.”
“It does seem to happen that way a lot. I often find myself surrounded by people I don’t know. More so lately, than in the past.”
“Why is that?”
She shrugged and reclined against the back of the bench. “Life changes unexpectedly sometimes.”
Bri watched her, the way the light breeze stirred her curls, the way her eyelashes rested against her cheeks when she closed her eyes. “I certainly know the truth of that.”
“Oh!” She sat up suddenly, turning and grabbing one of his hands. “I almost forgot. Happy birthday.”
The way her white glove blended with his transfixed him, then he remembered to breathe and collected himself. “Thank you.” It was odd, he had always been aware of his birthday, but aside from the cakes and presents Alec had bought him over the two previous occasions, he had never really celebrated it before. If it meant seeing Ella smile like that every year, he thought maybe he could tolerate Carma’s idea of a party.
“Have you gotten anything interesting? As a present, I mean.”
“Alec got me some new books.” It was the only gift worth mentioning. Dorothea had tried to mark him with new runes, Picadilly had simply wished him well in passing, and Carma had bought him these damned clothes and thrown this party.
“I love books,” Ella said, and Bri couldn’t help but notice that she was still holding his hand. “I wish people would get me books for my birthday.”
“They don’t?
“I have been told to stop filling my head with nonsense.” She mocked the tone of whoever had said such a thing.
“Well, I’ll get you whatever books you want. When is your birthday?”
“Next month.”
“Consider it done then.”
She blushed, the rose color in her cheeks deepening. “Thank you in advance.” She squeezed his hand, and Bri wondered what it would feel like if he could actually touch her, without layers of fabric between them. The softness of her skin, the grace of her touch. The myst crept closer, just with the thought, and so he discarded it, placing it with all the other things he had long ago accepted he would never get to experience.
“I brought you a present,” she said, staring at the ground, kicking her little silver shoes against the small stones beneath the bench. “A proper one, wrapped with gold paper and ribbons, but—” she paused. “There was something else I was hoping to give you as well.”
“What’s that?”
She lifted her head, her eyes downcast, though they flicked up to meet his gaze now and then. The hand she still had clasped with his trembled slightly, and Bri began to worry that something was wrong.
“Ella?”
In one quick movement, she pressed her lips to his.
Truth be told, Alec had had enough of dancing. The young women of the party had spun him around the makeshift dance floor more times than he could count, and the world had begun to tilt even when he stood still.
He had excused himself for a drink, and had realized, as he poured the bitter ale down his throat that he couldn’t see Bri anywhere. It might have been harsh to lock him outside, ensuring that he would at least pass through the crowd once before finding another door back into the house, but he had to be seen. People would talk if he wasn’t. How much time had passed? Enough for him to have gone back inside? Alec wasn’t sure. Selecting some random bit of food from one of the many long tables without looking to see what it was, he conducted a quick search for the man of honor.
Alec found him, sitting far from the crowd of the party next to a familiar head of blonde curls. Popping the unidentified food in his mouth, Alec watched their awkward, yet endearing exchange for a long moment before he considered leaving them alone. Bri seemed fine. No hint of illness or headaches. In fact, Alec didn’t think he had ever seen him so at ease—if a boy sitting with a beautiful girl could be called at ease. Idly, he reached to touch the silver locket he kept always in his pocket.
He had just begun his first step back when he saw Ella shift and move, closing the space between herself and Bri.
A kiss. Normally a good thing, a great thing, something not to be watched by an older brother. But Bri was different. Bri couldn’t touch people. And a kiss involved touching.
“Dance with me.”
A hand on Alec’s arm spun him around, preventing his approach toward Bri. Alec started, “I’m sorry, miss, but I can’t—”
He froze. The raven hair, the golden skin, that curve of the neck, the way her collarbones accented the lines of her shoulders, and the fullness of her breast. The black dress slimmed her already small waist, and his hand reached for it without thought. He knew, right there, at the small of her back, would be a birthmark shaped like the wing of a dragonfly.
Full lips tilted up at the sides, exposing brilliant white teeth that enhanced the blue of her eyes. “Hello, Alexander.”
“Ariadne.”
— EPILOGUE —
The mottled walls of the cave dripped with water that evaporated the instant it appeared. The air was hot, thick and oppressive. Breathing was difficult down here, where the heat shimmered on the air, distorting anything there was to see by the limited light of a single torch. Outside, the flames that surrounded the rock walls boiled the lake that surrounded the island, making it nearly impossible to get to, even by the inhabitants of Hell.
But Kai had no trouble at all. His scribing had grown far stronger in recent weeks, and often it seemed as though there was nothing he could not do.
Nothing, but obtain his brother.
He felt the anger well up, tempt him to violence against the only things nearby to be a target—small worm-like hellions that squished when he caught them beneath his feet. But when he grit his teeth, his fractured jaw ached, and he remembered well what had happened the last time he had lost his temper.
Olin had far less patience than Lillianna.
So Kai bit down on his impulses and continued down through the rock. Each twist and turn as familiar to him as the patterns in his own skin. The pathway within had been carved out centuries ago, acting as the lines of a labrynth for protection and secrecy. Lillianna had showed it to him when he was just ten years old, claiming it to be the relic of the last witch powerful enough and brave enough to live in Hell. With her gone, he was the only one who knew about it and the only person who could reach it. It had become his sanctuary. Carefully sidestepping a trap set into the final turn of the path, he reached the center and the labrynth he had scribed there, blazing blue in the darkness.
Less than a fortnight ago, he had begun. Just as he had collected the remnants from the burnings in Chanae, he had returned to Talconay and carefully pulled each grain of ash from the air. It hadn’t been easy, Lillianna had been scattered to the four winds. He had scribed and cast for nights on end, collecting each bit, and bringing it back here, where he assembled her ashes in the shape of her body. Every night since, he had returned to this place to cast and work labrynths. The ash resisted, bubbling and blistering when he wanted it to smooth and flow. But he refused to concede defeat. There was nothing he could not do. Her ash had bled, and then breathed, and now it lay still once again, unable to maintain itself without his constant ministrations. Kai knelt within the lines of his spell, unconcerned when it flared and las
hed out with the power that was meant to be fed into the ash. It was all part of the process, and a sign that he was close to succeeding. She wanted to retaliate, but hadn’t the strength. With no souls, and no power, there was little she could do but swat at him. A single touch could cause her meager form to crumble.
“Hello, Lillianna.”
The pile of ash, of course, could say nothing in return, but he felt that unmistakable air of arrogance and anger.
“You will come back to me. You have no choice. I have need of you, and you owe me.” Lifting one hand above the black, eerily-formed pile, he cut his palm and let his blood drip into the ash, watching as it was absorbed like water in a drought-ridden plain.
It wasn’t enough. Where her lips should have been, the ash crumbled like sand in the wind. If he had access to his full power, they would have swelled and smoothed—formed words.
Kai clenched his fist, watching the blood seep out from between his fingers as his hand shook. He needed Bri. Had to make him understand. Until he did, he would be unable to resurrect the mother of all demons.
And he needed her blood.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
They say it takes a village to raise a child, and writing a book isn’t much different. There have been so many people who helped bring this book to life, especially as it’s been a decade since that first page was ever written.
To my husband CJ, thank you for taking the girls to play while I edited in long weekend bursts. Your understanding of my passion and belief in my ability have been a steadying force probably more than you realize. And thanks for finding symbolism where I didn’t intend to put it. It makes me feel cooler.
My girls, you sweet, sassy, sometimes rather feral creatures who I love without condition. Thank you for not holding it against me when I would hole up in another room with these edits. I hope someday you’ll read this book and understand. Maybe even write books of your own. I promise to bang on the door while you work too.
To my parents, who over the many, many years of my authorly pursuit didn’t complain as I lived in their house, took odd jobs, went back to school, and sold my first short stories—thank you for letting me be me. And X—if you’re reading this, that’s a huge honor. Thanks for being my friend as well as my little bro.
To my critique partners, Patricia Tighe, Sara J. Lyon, and Daphne Riordan, who read the first drafts of this chapter by chapter, giving me invaluable feedback that ultimately led to the book you hold today. Thank you. I understand good critique partners are hard to find, but somehow I lucked out and got the best right from the get-go.
Taylor-Lynn Weiss—the best sister and first reader anyone could ask for. Thank you for loving my books as much as I do (sometimes more) and for always telling me the truth. Without your demands, some books and stories may never have been finished.
To everyone in the Seton Hill University Writing Popular Fiction Program. Whether you attended with me, before me, or after me, you have been a part of my writing journey and thus deserve thanks. From residency feedback to a simple share on social media, every little bit counts. And to my mentors, Timons Esaias, David Bischoff, and Jon Sprunk, thank you for teaching me craft and pushing me beyond what I thought I was capable of. (Tim, I’m pretty sure you won’t find any bobbleheads here. Certainly no grimaces.)
To my editor Gwendolyn Nix, thank you for coming back for The Soulless, for believing in it so much that three years later it still had a place in your heart.
And to everyone at Outland Entertainment—thank you for giving this book a chance, and for bringing it to life.
If I missed anyone, I sincerely apologize. I’m going to blame mom brain, and pandemic brain, and that scattered writer brain that exists no matter what’s going on in the world. I love you, and I’ll text you later.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Kate Martin lives in Connecticut with her husband, two daughters, and one disagreeable cat. She grew up writing and watching anime, while dancing and reading every fantasy book she could find. She’s authored numerous short stories and novels, all of which deal with the fantastical and elements of the unknown. You can find her over on Instagram @katemartinauthor.