Unfortunate Souls (Book 1): Unfortunate Souls Series (The Unfortunate Souls Series)

by Jade M. Phillips

  The man clenched his jaw and gazed down at me. He pulled out a handkerchief and handed it to me.

  “Guy.”

  “Guy what?”

  “Guy Stone. I’m a Captain of the FUSE army.” I looked up at him, but before I could ask any more questions, he explained further. “FUSE stands for the Faction of Unfortunate Souls Elimination. We are a secret sect of the government whose main goal is to exterminate Unfortunate Souls.”

  I wiped my eyes and blew my nose into the hankie. “Unfortunate Souls?”

  He paused, rubbing his hands over his face. I got the feeling he was revealing more information to me than he should. But he continued.

  “Vampires, Witches, Werewolves —or as we call them— the Unfortunate Souls.” A mix of emotions claimed his features. His face was hard with determination, but soft with the element of youth. There were no wrinkles or lines, only patches of unshaven stubble over his otherwise smooth skin. I reached up and touched his bristled cheek.

  “You’re so young to be a Captain.” I remarked. He shrugged off my touch as if I’d stung him. I dropped my hand, embarrassment heating my cheeks.

  “I’m good at what I do,” he said, rifling through his pack.

  I brushed off Guy’s coldness and watched the darkness fade, the sky turning from a dim pink to a burnt sienna. I dropped my eyes and stared at the ground in a trance, trying to wrap my mind around the situation, still reeling over what he’d said. What I was becoming. It was insane and I was desperate to fill in the missing pieces in my memory on how I’d come to be this way, but couldn’t.

  “Can you walk again?” he asked, bringing me from my thoughts. I nodded, pulling the blanket closer to my chest. At a time such as this, my modesty almost seemed funny. Almost. But thankfully Guy didn’t mock me, instead helping me off the ground, although quite roughly I had to admit. “The sun’s coming. We need to hurry.”

  His expression spoke of urgency and it made me uneasy. But for some reason, though I wasn’t sure why, I trusted Guy Stone.

  Without another word, he took my hand and we trotted through the desert. A few minutes later, we edged up a hill and stopped at the top. Over the other side sat a crumbling Spanish Catholic Mission, the three white arches at the top holding copper bells. It loomed tall with its three-story façade, and it shone a bright white against the dusky desert. Guy slid me a glance.

  “We’ve run out of time. I hope you like going to church.”

  SEVEN: RUBY

  I stood next to Guy at the crest of a hill, my mind still spinning with this newfound information. My body quaked with pain and I began to give credit to the soldier’s words telling me I was turning into a vampire. Though it was completely insane, I couldn’t ignore what my body was telling me. I was in fact changing, my senses heightening, and I’d never felt anything so strange before in my entire life.

  We gazed down over the desert landscape to the large mission before us. Patches of cacti surrounded it, their white and yellow blooms opening right before my eyes, each petal yawning wide as though searching for the sleeping sun. Little black bugs dotted the blooms, enjoying their temporary sanctuary.

  My enhanced vision astounded me. I could see farther than I ever could as a human and the detail of everything was so precise. So beautiful. The church’s tall white walls turned peach with the oncoming sunrise and I could see the rough texture on the adobe as though I was standing right before it.

  I glanced at my savior, next to me.

  Guy Stone.

  He was apparently the Captain of some strange secret army, whose goal was to kill people like me, vampires like me. I laughed nervously at the unreal thought, wondering if I really believed I was a vampire. There was something different about me, that was for sure. My body was changing, my senses blazing like a neon light, pain flushing through me in hot rivers. But a vampire? I shook my head in disbelief as Guy latched onto my arm.

  He rushed me down the hill and up to the grand entrance, the wooden arched doorway closed in front of us. He tried the wrought iron handle but the door didn’t budge. He turned behind us to the east and frowned at the rising sun. Still holding the handle, he placed his foot against the door for leverage and pushed. It creaked but did not move.

  “Damn it.” He shoved and pushed at the door. He jiggled the handle, to no avail.

  “Am I going to burn in the sun?” I asked. Everyone knew the old lore of how vampires would fry in the sun and could only be killed by that or a stake through the heart. But now that I was turning into one of these fabled creatures, I figured I needed to know if it was true.

  “Yes.” He maneuvered himself against the doorframe, his muscles bulging underneath his tight T-shirt. Like an egg in a frying pan, an overwhelming sense of heat rushed through me. Was it the sun making me feel this way? Or the way my savior’s strong body affected me? Either way, fire flushed my face, my forehead dotting with sweat. I glanced to the horizon, panting from the heat.

  “I am a little warm.”

  Guy leaned over with hands on his knees, exhausted from his failed efforts. He glanced up at me with concern in his eyes, watching me rub the sweat from my face. He considered me for a moment, then sharply spoke.

  “Stand aside.”

  I hurried away from the door and Guy backed up at least ten paces, giving himself a running start. Before reaching his target, he jumped, bringing his legs up to kick the door with both feet. It burst open with a spray of dust. He stumbled backwards, but recovered, grabbing my arm and throwing me inside. Before he closed the door behind us, I glanced out on the desert scene, the colossal mountains like purple giants under the rising sun. I realized that if I was indeed going to be a vampire and Guy was telling the truth, this would be the last sunrise I would ever see.

  The reality of my situation slammed home, the truth of my condemnation seeping through my body like the flames from the hot sun. I’d never see my family again. Never see John again. My heart constricted at the severity of what I’d done and it took all I had not to drop to my knees and break down. I was the only one to blame for my own death.

  The great ball of fire peeked over the ridge, illuminating the landscape with its orange light. And my eyes —whether from the pain of the sun or the true understanding of my hopelessness— misted at the sight of it. Guy shoved me aside and slammed the door, throwing us into near darkness.

  He found a few candles on a nearby bench and lit them, their light casting a soft glow within the church. My eyes adapted and I gaped at the scenery surrounding us. The walls of the mission were not square and box-like, but rounded and curved, their concave facades adorned with patterns of gold gilt. Faded paintings of saints hung tall in golden arches and white carved statues were tucked into every crevice, their faces hollow and forlorn in the shadows.

  The ceilings loomed tall, the room spanned vast, and dust motes glittered through the air. Long wooden benches lined the center of the nave and the back of the long church disappeared into the shadows. Even in my own Catholic upbringing, I’d never been to a place such as this, and I gasped in spite of myself.

  Guy took me by the arm and walked me down the aisle beside the benches. “There will be too much light through the windows once the sun gains a stronger position.”

  I don’t know what made me do it —probably my dire circumstance or possibly my desperation— but I dropped to one knee at the nearest pew, crossing my body with the sign of the holy trinity. Forehead. Breastbone. Left shoulder. Right shoulder.

  “In the name of the Father, the Son, and The Holy Ghost.”

  I’d occasionally attended mass growing up but had never been super religious or anything. But I figured if I was damned to hell on earth in the body of a vampire, I should at least atone for my sins first. Guy watched me bring my fingers to my lips and kiss them, a symbol of faith my grandmother had taught me when I was young. He spiked an eyebrow.

  “Seriously?”

  I looked up at him and held the blanket tight around my body.
“I haven’t been to mass in a long time. But it seemed the right thing to do.”

  Guy snorted and my face flushed even hotter than it did in the sun. I stood, appalled at the audacity of his blasé reaction to my last moments as a human. I narrowed my eyes, wondering how he found even a shred of humor in this situation.

  “What?”

  “A Catholic Vampire,” he chuckled. “Now I’ve seen it all.”

  I scoffed as he yanked me from my knees and pulled me toward the back of the church. My neck throbbed from the mysterious bite wound and, despite the wrappings on my feet, my soles were stinging from lack of protection while running through the desert.

  “Here.” Guy threw open a pair of carved wooden doors. He lit a candle and held it into the doorway. “You’ll sleep in here for the day.” I glanced inside the dark little room and studied my options, which, unfortunately, were none. I looked back over my shoulder at the florid church scenery, and a statue of the mother Mary caught my eye. She held her hands to her chest, tears flowing down her cheeks.

  “Alright, Faith.” Guy brought back my attention by pushing me through the door. “It’s time to hibernate.”

  “Ruby,” I grumbled, letting Guy cram me into the small room. He set the candle on an old baroque desk. Next to that stood a rickety wooden chair and an old shelf holding dozens of dusty books. There were no windows, and only a filthy rug spanned the floor. “My name is Ruby,” I repeated, this time with guff. “Ruby Carter. In case you didn’t catch it the first time.”

  “Ruby’s nice.” He flashed me a bawdy grin. “But I like Faith better.”

  This man irritated me and I snorted with frustration. He seemed amused by my reaction and, smiling, turned to grab a white robe from a peg on the wall. He handed it to me. “Put this on.”

  I ran the silky material between my fingers and recognized it as an altar boy’s robe. But it must’ve been at least fifty years old. The white silk had turned a worn shade of cream, and delicate patterns of lace trimmed the hem and sleeves.

  Guy turned away and faced the door to give me privacy. I glared at him for a moment before letting my blanket fall to the floor. I slid the robe over my head and thrust my arms into the sleeves. It hung just above my knees and looked like a vintage nightgown. It wasn’t my first choice of clothing, but it was definitely better than spending the whole day nude with Captain Impossible.

  “You can look now,” I huffed and sat on the rug, removing the bloody rags from my feet. He turned back around, his muscular form flickering yellow from the candle light. His grey eyes darkened as he studied me.

  “Put your arms out.” He held out his own in front of him as an example. I cocked an eyebrow at his strange request. “Just do it,” he grumbled and I did as he said. He then knelt in front of me and grabbed my wrists in one of his hands. He reached behind himself with his other arm and brought forth a pair of clunky, metal restraints. I gasped, disbelief stunting my breath.

  “Are you hand-cuffing me?”

  “Yes.” His voice sounded flat, unaffected by my shock.

  “But… I haven’t done anything wrong.” Panic rose in my chest like the ocean’s high tide but he clamped the metal bracelets over my wrists and cinched them in tight, tugging on them to make sure of his work. I grimaced. So much for being saved by Prince Charming.

  Guy leaned back and frowned. “By the time you wake tonight, you will be a full-fledged vampire. I can’t take any chances.”

  I gazed up into his steely eyes, the sassy attitude I’d adopted earlier melting away, leaving fear in its place. Desperation coursed through my shaking body. “Will you stay with me?” I was afraid he’d leave me alone.

  He considered my words for a moment, his expression unreadable. “Do you want me to?” His voice was low and husky.

  “Yes.” I looked down at my wrists, somber. Though I’d only met the man less than twenty-four hours ago and thought him annoying and abrasive, I needed him. I needed someone. I felt alone and I hated to admit it, but terror wracked my insides like a rusty washboard. Despite his cold manner, his company would be welcome and I finally admitted with a whisper. “I’m scared.”

  Guy sighed and grabbed the bloody cloths that had been wrapped around my feet. He stuffed them in between each one of my wrists and the cuffs binding them. I looked up at him in question.

  “The cuffs are silver,” he explained. “Silver weakens a vampire’s strength so they cannot escape, but it might burn in the process. The rags should relieve some of the pain.”

  I looked down in awe. “And if they were not silver?”

  “Depending on how strong a vampire you become, you might be able to break through anything that’s not silver.”

  “Oh.” I rubbed my fingers over the metal.

  “Now lie down and try to get some sleep. The next twelve hours will be the hardest of all.”

  I gazed at him, pondering his words. If the next twelve hours would be the hardest, then what had I been feeling for the last four? I shivered with dread.

  He must’ve sensed my fright because he placed a hand on my shoulder. “It’ll be alright. You’ll get through it. And you won’t be alone.”

  I raised my brows in surprise at his sudden kindness. Although I had no reason to trust him, Guy’s words comforted me. His fingers lingered on my shoulder, our eyes locking, and for one short moment, I saw beyond his gruff exterior, warmth traveling through me like a soothing bath. But he swiftly retracted his hand as though embarrassed.

  “Now go on. Lay down and try to get some shut eye.”

  I looked up at him, the ghost of a smile crossing my lips. Maybe he wasn’t such a jerk after all. I laid down on the rug and pondered the Captain who’d rescued me. There was something strong and powerful about him, yet soft and warm. I felt safe with him, unlike I ever had with John.

  Guy sat himself in the old wooden chair against the wall, kicked off his boots, and propped his feet up on the desk. He grabbed the sharp wooden stake from his belt and, with it in hand, rested his arm on his stomach. He eyed me as he did so and I wondered if he considered me a threat, knowing he eventually would once I grew fangs.

  He leaned forward, blew out the candle, and settled back against the wall. Darkness veiled my sight and questions about Guy and his intentions fled. But even in the pitch black, and beyond the stabs of pain, I marveled at the difference in my eyesight which grew sharper by the moment. Shadows became lines, which then became shapes and dim shades of grey. Guy’s body was reclined, but I could tell he wasn’t relaxed; his muscles thick with tension.

  Again, I thought about my family, feeling awful for the way I’d left them. And now, more than likely, they thought I was dead. Grief tied my stomach into a knot and I struggled to breath. Though I knew the likely answer to my next question, I asked it anyway, breaking the silence.

  “Can I just make one call to my parents?”

  “No,” Guy grumbled.

  I sighed, finally submitting to the fact that my life had officially changed.

  “So when I wake up I will be a vampire?”

  “Yes.”

  “Will I need to drink blood?”

  “Yes,” he answered sharply.

  I shifted uncomfortably on the floor, dull pain throbbing down my spine. I wondered what my life would be like as a vampire. I wondered how much of me would change. I wondered what would happen once the sun set that night. I gazed at Guy through the dark. His eyes were closed.

  “Since I will be a vampire, are you going to kill me?”

  “If you ask me one more question I’m likely to kill you right now.”

  I rolled over to the side, a giggle leaving my mouth. His words weren’t threatening, but they teased comfortably. I was pretty sure if he hadn’t killed me by now he wouldn’t kill me in my sleep. But tonight, when I awoke as a vampire, I wasn’t so sure. I glanced back over my shoulder.

  “Goodnight, Guy.”

  And though I wasn’t quite sure, I thought I saw his lips curl into
a boyish smile.

  “Goodnight Faith.”

  EIGHT: RUBY

  The back of my skull throbbed as though I’d been cracked with a bat, my neck throbbed from the bite wound and, as unlikely as it seemed, even my skin throbbed against the hard church floor. But through my pain, my body finally succumbed to exhaustion and I managed to drift off into a foggy place between sleep and awake.

  And through the mist came flashes of recent days. They were broken and fragmented, hazy at best, swirling around me in a cyclone of missing information. But through the chaos, my mother’s voice came through clearly. I remembered the moments leading up to my death…

  “We understand that you’re upset honey. It’s a normal reaction.”

  “What?” I took a shallow breath, then struggled to take another. “You’re saying that my dad isn’t really my dad?” My eyes shifted quickly between my parents’ faces, trying to process what they were telling me.

  “That’s not what we’re saying, honey. Mom took Dad’s hand— or rather, took the man’s hand who I’d thought was my dad all these years. The setting sun cast light through my window and shone on their worried faces. Together, they sat facing me on my bed. Unease tumbled into my gut like heavy rocks as I sat across from them in my favorite chair, but it lent me no comfort that evening. Mom inhaled deeply, offering my ‘dad’ a glance before looking back to me.

  “You’re dad has always been, and will always be, your dad. He loves you more than you could ever know.”

  My heart pumped faster than it ever had, my face heating with a sense of betrayal. I glanced at my ‘dad,’ hot anger bubbling up in my stomach.

  “If you’re not my real dad, then who is?”

  He opened his mouth as if to speak, but mom squeezed his hand, stopping him.