by Riley Archer
“Too much running around trying to keep things in order. No time to bundle up when ghosts are wreaking havoc,” she laughed. “And not to be the party pooper on the party that has already been pooped, but I was sent to make sure Ellis got back to her dormitory safely. I was getting worried, honestly, but luckily I saw the fire out here.”
I squinted at her. She seemed a whole lot like a big bad wolf right now. And if that’s what she was, then I had a feeling she intended to make me her little red. But I wasn’t going to let her tuck me in.
“Hey, Ash, how do werewolves feel about the cold?”
Eliza’s pleasant expression went blank.
“Well, from what I’ve learned, they run at much higher temperatures than humans do, so they get cold easily if they haven’t shifted in a while. But if they’re frequently shifting, their bodies regulate better. Why? Do we think Eliza here took herself for a walk tonight?”
“Eliza?” David scratched his head. “You know shifting isn’t allowed on school grounds. And even if it was, it’s not a full moon.”
“Does that matter?” I attempted to whisper to Ash.
“Yes and no—”
David continued, “The Alpha Coalition has a treaty with the Society for Supernaturals that states werewolves can only shift on full moons. It’s been in place for centuries.”
Whatever it was that made Eliza so bubbly must have popped. Her friendly features sharpened until she was downright ferocious. Everything that had made her seem cute now made her seem wild. “Centuries too long. Don’t you think it’s a bit outdated, David?”
If I had to take a not-so-wild guess right now, I’d guess Eliza was part of Atlas’s therapy group, the ones that wanted to overthrow Reaper Collective. But the treaty they were talking about was between two outside organizations.
“Society for Supernaturals? What does RC have to do with this? What do I have to do with this?” I asked, already assuming Eliza was lumped in with Atlas’s revolutionaries.
She took a step forward. “Who do you think it was that reported werewolves were killing too many humans? Soul Collectors, perhaps? And who do you think it is that helps punish wolves who simply want to stretch more than once a month if not Advanced Collectors?”
She was grossly outmatched, but still. I didn’t understand her goal here. “RC isn’t exactly a fan of me either. Will kidnapping me make any sort of difference?”
She sighed. “From what I’m told, you have some ability that will bring RC to its knees. And then when I saw you were visiting David Forrester, son of Leander Forrester, late at night, I thought, how perfect. Two big birds, one stone. Unfortunately, that didn’t work out.”
She said the name Leander Forrester as if it tasted like decay. Or something gross to werewolves.
“You were following me?”
She shrugged and placed her hand on a tree. “Meh. It’s too bad you didn’t wear the watch I gave you tonight. I would’ve found you faster. And it’s especially too bad that you had some kind of protection spell over you when I finally caught your scent in the forest.”
Protection spell? Is that what the sprites were doing? I suddenly felt bad for trying to evict them when they prevented me from becoming doggy chow.
“What is even going on right now?” Sierra groaned and buried her face in her hands. “Am I having a nightmare?”
Everyone ignored her.
“Who are you working for?” Damian asked in a way that sounded like a demand. It gave me major flashbacks to our second encounter. When he’d held a scythe to my neck and told me he wanted to burn RC down.
“Is she working for you, Mr. I-have-strings?”
His hands flew up in the air. “Are you kidding me? If I wanted to kidnap you, I’ve had a hundred opportunities.”
“A hundred, really? Because if I recall, I’m the one that cuffed—” the sound of bones cracking and flesh ripping stopped me in my tracks.
“That’s disgusting,” Mari added. She seemed completely bored, but completely intent on sticking around until her soul was sent to the Rift.
“She’s shifting!” Jose made his way toward whatever weird form Eliza had morphed into. Before he got to her though, her skin sprouted copper-colored fur and she back-flipped out of reach. When she landed, she looked like a dire wolf with teeth that could rip an arm from its socket.
And then she took off.
I started to run, but nobody else moved a muscle. “What? Is she super dangerous now or something?”
Ash shrugged. “Taking on a werewolf that’s intent on fighting is one thing. One that wants to run away …”
Jose picked up where Ash left off. “They are very fast, Ellis.”
“And she’s just a pawn,” Damian added. “Someone else got you put here. There will be more of her.”
Maven sighed. “I’ll put in an order for her arrest.”
A knife whistled past Maven’s face and stuck into a nearby tree. Then, it vanished like the murder weapon of every serial killer’s dreams. Mari’s tail flicked back and forth. “And?”
Maven rolled her neck. “I’ll put in one for you too. But I have to go inside.” She held her hands up in surrender when Mari brandished another ghostly knife. “I ain’t a cyborg! I don’t have the systems to issue the warrant on me.”
Mari considered this. “Once we get back to castle grounds, you have ten minutes. Don’t forget. I see you when you cannot see me.”
28
The Soul Prison
Making snow angels in a ball gown and sneakers was a bad idea.
When I said that to Ash and Jose, Ash had responded, “I never met a bad idea I didn’t like.”
I believed her. And since I was quite certain I didn’t have any angels looking out for me—sprites, maybe—I decided I’d make my own. I had a feeling I was going to need one where I was going.
After the first two flutters of wings, the sting from the cold subsided and it wasn’t so bad. It was like getting used to the water in a pool. It helped I was practically frozen to high heaven already.
“Don’t think we forgot.” Ash’s indented wings almost touched each other.
“Forgot what?”
“That you have a saucy bedtime story to tell us. When you have time to tell us properly, of course.” Jose, who was on the other side of me making his own angel, got a bit rowdy with his flapping and splashed snow onto my face.
“Watch it!” I splashed snow back.
He sat up. “Ellis Kennicot. Are you starting a snowball fight with me?”
“What?” I sat up too and balled snow behind my back. I remembered my pillow fight with him and Ash and pulled my feet underneath me. I’d need to run. Then, I tossed the pile of snow—it didn’t quite cut it as a ball—right into Jose’s chest. “You started it.”
“I’ll avenge you!” Ash shouted and jumped to her feet. She had an arsenal of snow cannons already forming.
I ran behind Damian, because, if I was being honest, I was way too exhausted to run any farther and there was no way in hell I was going back into the woods. I scooped up snow near his feet.
He glanced down. “Brave of you to use someone you think wants to kidnap you as a shield.”
I straightened and packed the snow. “I didn’t say I thought you wanted to kidnap me.”
“Then what?”
Ash made kissy noises. She had a handful of snowballs cradled in one arm with one prepared to launch in her hand. “Just try to protect your girl, Forrester.”
When she threw, Damian ducked. “I’d never be crazy enough to claim her.”
Right as he said it, the ball felt a rock just before it broke over my nose. My eyes watered.
“Oh no, Ellis.” Ash ran over and laughed as she inspected me with concern. “No bleeding. Must mean I need to work on my arm.”
“Yeah, you do that.” I crushed my snowball over her head.
Jose crumpled in a laughing fit.
“I’d ask to play, but time to go.” Mari manifested
inside my snow angel. Her boots scuffed up a wing.
Rude.
“What’s the rush?” I asked her. Because there was no time like the present, I went over to the go-bag and slung it over my shoulder.
The benefit of not talking to anyone about my mother was that nobody would have any idea what I planned to do next. Which meant they weren’t going to try and stop me.
“It’s not rush when I’m here for decades. So, who will escort?” Mari held out a ghostly hand. I supposed it worked like any other soul collection. When one of these Advanced Collectors made contact with her, a certain part of the Abyss would open up.
Jose looked at her hand like it was an ugly sweater. “Are you sure you want to go to the Rift? Because I’ve been there. It’s not great. No good food, no emotionally available guys …”
Mari snatched his hand.
The Abyss yawned into an archway of swirling black. It looked the same as all the other times I’d seen it open to pass a soul. During my years as a Collector, I’d never been tempted to peek inside.
I just wanted a glimpse of … I didn’t know what. But I caught myself looking at Damian. Who was looking over his shoulder at the most golden, gilded spirit elevator I’d ever seen. I’d think those doors belonged to the Taj Mahal if they weren’t out of place in a wintry courtyard.
One thing was for sure: Those doors were fit for a king.
I looked back over. Mari was halfway into the Abyss. Once she was through, I’d have approximately one second to hitch a ride.
Damian is a big boy. No time for goodbyes.
I sprinted fast enough to blur the confused complaints from Ash and Jose.
Then, I jumped into the opening like I was doing a cannonball and going for the biggest splash.
I couldn’t tell if it lasted a few seconds or an hour, but it felt as if I were floating in an anti-gravity chamber. A dark one where the air was dense and tingled like dry mist. I thought I saw stars, but it was just glimmers of untraceable light hitting the sparkles on my dress. There was something cozy about this foreign space. I caught myself dozing and I couldn’t help but lean into it.
And like a dreamer rolling from their bed, I dropped onto hard ground with a jolt.
I pushed myself up on what wasn’t exactly dirt. Or if it was, it was the cleanest soil I’d ever laid in.
Ash was right when she described this place as purple and murk. I could barely see a few feet ahead of me because of seemingly endless fog. But the Rift had at least one thing going for it.
There’s no snow.
Just as I was getting back to my feet, something heavy knocked me back down. I was as squished as a pancake beneath a spatula.
Maybe I’d been too naughty to deserve a lump of coal and Santa decided to use my back as a landing strip instead.
The pressure crushing my lungs finally released.
The voice beside me said, “Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to sit at the end of a slide?”
My eyes were still closed but I’d know that rasp anywhere.
I left my cheek against the indistinguishable ground. I needed a second before I came face-to-face with his majesty Daddy Issues inside the place he’d faked his death.
It sounded like he stood and was dusting himself off. “Happy Birthday, by the way.”
I groaned. “This really is hell, isn’t it?”
Ellis’s shenanigans continue in
SOULLESS SORCERESS
Want to stay up to date on all things Reaper Collective? Join my newsletter!
If you enjoyed this book, please consider leaving a review. Even a small comment makes a world of difference, and I would love to hear what you think!
About the Author
Riley Archer is a paranormal and urban fantasy-loving writer who firmly believes snark, scheming, magical beings, and disaster is a recipe for delicious adventure. Everything she writes is sure to dabble with this formula, and it may or may not get explosive. When she's not buried in bookish things, she's probably lost outside somewhere or being smothered by her two furry beasts.
You can follow her on Instagram @riley.archer