by SJ Davis
“I think I do want to call it quits for the night, Jase.” She shook her head, trying to disengage from his stare, but she was drawn to it like a force. His head lifted up, his eyes slowly closing as if he was going to kiss her, and she sighed. Her imagination could be so cruel.
The world must have suffered another miraculous storm, because she felt him press his lips to hers. Her eyes slid closed as a crackle of electricity passed between them—a side effect of her toiling with the currents so often. They both pulled back, and she smiled awkwardly at him as his hand slid behind her head and pulled her close.
“As soon as I do this, Mia. Just as soon as I do this.” His lips touched hers again, and the spark was a small shock.
His lips were soft against hers, and she prayed to God she was doing it right. No one had ever kissed her before, and she had a good feeling Jase didn’t spend many of the drinking nights alone.
She felt his hands run through her hair, and the tumble as he released the clip. She couldn’t focus on anything except the slip of his tongue along the seam of her lips. Opening her mouth slowly, she marveled at the way a deepened kiss could feel.
Jase pulled back, and she felt her face flush at what they had done. “I’ve been waiting to do that since we were of age, Mia. When we make this beautiful carriage work, no one will have any objections to my asking your parents’ permission to court you.”
He was so smug, and for once, she didn’t mind it.
“You could say something, Mia. Like perhaps, ‘Oh, Jase, I’ve been dreaming about that.’”
“I have been dreaming about that.”
The smile momentarily fell from his face, in shock perhaps, and then he grinned wider.
“Good, then I have been doing everything right.” He raised form the floor and offered her his hand. “Let’s get you home to your parents for the night. Looks like most of the other teams have left anyway.”
Her eyes slid around the old church, and sure enough, there were only three teams still at work on their assignment. When their hands touched, it sent another wave of happiness through her. Smiling at him, utterly confused as to what had just transpired, she let him lead her to his private carriages to take her home.
Chapter Two
Jase could still feel the slight tingle in his hand where Mia had been holding it. For a long time, he thought it was just the after effects of her Stormling gift, then a year ago he’d realized it was so much more. Getting his father to pull enough strings to have them assigned together had gotten him betrothed to some Stormling from France. Something that would never come to fruition if he could help it, especially now that he’d finally kissed Mia. He doubted he would ever forget the hitch of her breath as he’d done it.
A smirk spread across his face as he leaned into the upholstery on the carriage. The crushed velvet was soft against his face, and he pretended it was her hair tickling his cheek. “Driver, to the James Chapel Cemetery. I have something I need to do.”
His long time driver, Mark, nodded his head and turned the carriage in the other direction.
He would never tell Mia about this. She would hound him and possibly slap his shoulder rather hard for doing spirit summoning on his own, but he had to make sure the machine worked. The Stormlings had been looked down on from society, but then they had begun to create things—useable things. Those that pioneered it were granted nobility from the ruling class in London. If she could get that because of time travel success, no one could stand in their way. While he wasn’t positive she felt the same, her reaction had been a good indication.
After the storm, the America’s had all but fallen apart. On the brink of a war of their own, it had all crashed around them, and Great Britain had swept in like a merciful angel and saved them from themselves. Or that’s what was supposed to be believed. He didn’t much care for it, but it was the only reason Mia and her family had been able to come across the ocean. He might have found her annoying as a child, but as an adult, all he’d wanted was to court her.
As the carriage stopped outside the pitch black cemetery, he told himself again this was for her. Summoning alone could easily kill him, a spirit could attach itself to him, or he could simply drain all his energy and fall down dead with the corpses.
“Do you need me to wait, Master Kristol?” His driver’s crisp British accent reminded him that he wasn't completely alone.
He could ask him to stay, or he could simply call him on the phone lines that the rich had, thanks to the Stormlings.
“No thank you, Mark. This will be all. If you do not hear a call from me within the next hour, please return.” He jumped carelessly from the carriage and landed on the ground; kicking up dust with his heavy boots. He shut the door with a slam and crammed his hands in the pockets of his wool coat as he crunched on the fall leaves over to the needed area.
“Master Kristol?” Mark’s voice called into the evening air and a few others near the cemetery turned with Jase. “Do be careful. Aside from not wishing to explain to your parents why their son is about to take a leap into idiocy, I rather like having you around.”
Mark smiled and stepped back onto the footman’s step of the carriage and snapped the reins.
Jace sucked in a deep breath, but smiled at the words. He put on such a front when he was around Mia. It was tiring being fearless all the bloody time, and if this wasn’t the stupidest way to prove his fearlessness, well there would be no other way. If she ever found out, she’d never trust his judgment again. Not the goal.
“Right then, Jase. In and out without any dirt on your trousers, and she will never know what you’ve done.” He wrapped his hand around the three crystals he had swiped when they were kissing. Which was the other reason she couldn’t find out. She would accuse him of messing with her to further the experiment. And while he had, it wasn’t the only reason he’d finally kissed her. Plus, he’d almost been unable to focus on even striping them from their grids.
He rubbed his hands together to combat the fall chill and looked both ways before grabbing the wrought iron gate and climbing up. His knee bashed into one of the spirals on the top, and he bit his lip to avoid crying out. Ten at night was not late, thanks to the electricity that flickered through many lamps. But being midweek, the only people out were not likely to see him if he didn’t draw attention to himself, because they were drowning in the drink.
Jase dropped to the ground without bothering to climb down the opposite side of the fence and squinted. The lights didn’t extend into the cemetery, as it closed before the sun went down, regardless of technology the dead were allowed to sleep. Which made this even more illegal than it would have been to begin with. The headstones were lit with the silver stream of the moon glow. It should be enough to conceal him from the coppers and still know the name of the soul he chose.
At first, the idea of the dead still being alive in a sense had made him uneasy. Learning he could raise them by pulling the spirit of his recently deceased pet cat had nearly given him a heart attack when he was twelve. He doubted he would ever forget that moment.
He had already heard about the strange misgivings from the lightning storm that took place all over the world. Powers had been appearing for years already; power over an electrical current like lightning, raising the dead, moving objects with only a thought and the ability to bend metal with one’s mind. Great Britain had taken over the Americas about five years prior, and it was believed that all people who were somehow affected by the cursed storm had already shown signs of it.
There was no telling what had occurred that triggered the onset of his gift—Mia’s gift had been with her for years. Jase had wanted Mr. Pockets to cuddle with, and suddenly, the cat had been meowing next to him on the window seat. It had taken a year or so before he had complete control over summoning souls, and it wasn’t until he’d been sent to that special school that he’d learned what he could really do. Learning they couldn’t speak to him at their own will had made closing off the fear he felt a li
ttle easier.
Now he was comfortable being able to speak to them. He’d helped with police investigations prior to volunteering for the experimental teams. Raising a soul wasn’t about learning who had murdered the painted nightwalker, or bringing a pet back to life in some strange fashion. Spirits powered the city, powered the world.
When they had learned how to trap a spirit inside an object, a whole new world had opened up. Lights that weren't from a candle and motorized vehicles came from Electric Stormlings, but the ability to animate an inanimate object—that was all his kind. The animation had led to a new army, one of metal men and safety for human life. It had led to many losing their jobs and being indebted to the British because metal men could do all the work. But it had also meant new playmates for children, more efficient servants and more.
A part of him was haunted by ripping the souls of the dead away for his personal use, but he was certain they held the key to using the crystals. He’d spent weeks arguing with Mia to let him use the souls; to trap them. If I’m wrong, not only will I have wronged the dead, but she will likely never let me forget it.
It wasn’t true that the dead didn’t have energy. Their souls were trapped on Earth if they were buried in the ground, and it gave off a distinct pattern that Spirit Raiser Stormlings could latch onto. Nothing in the spirit mattered when it came time to raise them, but sometimes a stronger spirit was needed for working powerful stuff, like powering a motor carriage through time and back again.
Jase closed his eyes and simply stood at the entrance to the cemetery. He felt the usual slide of souls over his senses. Like water sliding downs one body, it could be warm a refreshing sensation. There were so many there though, it was like being tied to The Rack and being beaten while they stretched your limbs. His head began to pound trying to siphon out the souls and chose the right ones.
“One young, one old, one my age.” His voice was a whisper into the darkness, but a needed reminder for his search. One by one, he pushed through the souls clamoring to get to him. Some retreated easily, knowing it was not their night. Others came back ‘round, shoving and shouting into his mind. Isolation of three souls was near impossible, but one at a time was manageable.
His feet began to move in the direction of an old soul calling out to him. His eyes opened in the darkness to stop from trampling another grave and the toe of his boot connected with a gravestone anyway. “Bloody hell,” he cursed and shook his foot before continuing to move forward.
His path wound around tall markers and large oak trees as he approached the center of the cemetery. When he felt the pulse of energy the strongest he looked down at the headstone beneath him. Martin Rosendale III. 1721 until 1771. He wasn’t certain if a young person’s soul that was simply long dead would do the trick, but this soul had the strongest energy burst, and that’s what he was concerned with.
“Sorry old friend, this won’t be exactly what you were expecting from me.”
He pulled the purple crystal from his jacket pocket, cursing when it stuck briefly on the corner of the vest—some days he wished his mother did not insist on such fashionable wear. He set the crystal on top of the cold earth in front of the grave marker. If the soul escaped the crystal, there was nothing he could do except find another, and given his time frame with his driver he didn’t have time to waste on mistakes. Pulling souls for over ten years should have made him an expert, but nothing was ever easy.
Jase closed his eyes again, letting the energy from the soul ripple through him. While he didn’t actually move, he envisioned his hands shifting through the layer of dirt until he reached the coffin. His fingers would soon fade through the wood and tug up the spirit.
They weren’t a ghostly white or a translucent version of their living bodies, as they had often thought before true souls and spirits were found. The form that he would pull from a grave would be pale green, they’d yet to discover why. While he worked, while any Soul Raiser Stormling worked, the energy would pulse around them.
He had never seen himself, but Mia had told him his hair blew from an invisible breeze and sometimes his eyes would open in a dead, glossy stare. His teacher at the school had levitated from the ground when she worked, and a classmate used to speak strange words. It always varied slightly from person to person, but it was always the same way of channeling the soul every time. The process took many minutes to reach the soul, and could leave a person drained for hours. It depended on how long the person had been in their final resting place—not that it was so final now.
Fear of failing coursed through Jase’s body and made the process longer. He could fell the sweat slide down his brow and pass over his lips as he struggled to reach the old soul stuck within the grave. When he found the man, he yanked with all the mental strength he could muster, and the cry of pain that sliced the night sprang his eyes open.
At his feet the purple crystal flickered, like a light that needed a Stormling to recharge it. He didn’t dare move a muscle to tend to the crystal until the light died and it returned to the pretty Amethyst shard and nothing more. His steel toe boot tapped the crystalline shard and knocked it into the headstone. Satisfied when nothing came flying out of it at him, Jase picked it up and closed his eyes to find another soul.
Night stretched on as he continued the process. For the blue crystal, the future, he drew up a babe that had been laid to rest in the earth just the day before. The soul of a girl only ten and two, that had died the previous month, for the red crystal. He could hardly keep his eyes open, and the contents of his stomach down. Simply because he had the power, did not mean it was easy on him. There was no way to know how much time had passed as he stumbled foot over foot, trying to make his way back to where Mark awaited him with the carriage.
His feet sunk into the dirt from his dead weight. He stumbled and the imposing iron gate of the cemetery was all that stood between him and face planting into the earth. The sound as he crashed into it rang through his body, knocking his teeth together and sending enough stars to his vision that he wondered if he’d hit his head as well.
“Master Kristol!” Mark’s voice barely broke through the tired haze.
Footsteps slammed into the ground and he felt his driver’s hands reach through the metal work and wrap around his forearm.
“I knew I should have stayed. Stunts like this are going to get you killed, Jase.”
Jase barely had the strength to lift his head and wink at his driver. “Do not call me by my given name, Mark.” He placed one foot onto the elaborate bottom of the fence and dragged the other up to meet it as he slid his arms up the bars.
“Very well. Not that you are off the ground, pray tell, how are you going to get over the gate’s top?”
There was a playful hitch in Mark’s voice and he wanted to punch his driver. He felt as if he’d drowned in the drink and been brought back to life. “I’ll just keep climbing,” his words slurred together and a yawn slipped out.
“You are very lucky that your parents obtained a copy of this key while you practiced your gift, Master Kristol.”
He didn’t know what was happening, but suddenly the gate swung backwards and his eyes flew open as his hands gripped the bars to hold tight. He saw Mark grinning and realized he’d been talking about a gate key.
Jase climbed off the gate and ran a hand over his clothes, trying his best to get the rampant dirt clots off and failing. He scratched his head to shake the dirt in his hair from a wind he’d whipped up while focusing on raising the young babe and smirked at Mark.
“Yes, that will do quite nicely, Mark. Thank you. Take me home if you please.” The words barely came out of his mouth when the overwhelming tiredness took him into the darkness.
Chapter Three
She counted to ten and blew out a breath. Jase was missing. She would have said late, but Jase was always late. Three hours had passed since he normally came sauntering through the heavy church doors, and he wasn’t present yet. More importantly, the crystals that were s
upposedly, hopefully, going to power the carriage through time were missing as well.
She chewed her lower lip, tried to count to ten again and failed before she swung out with her foot and smashed it into the metal wheel. “Damn it!” She pulled her foot back, hopping on the other and closed her eyes tight at the pain. Her lower back crashed into part of the carriage door, and she tripped and landed into the plush interior of the car.
“Bloody hell, Jase you had best have been mugged for our idea and being tarred and feathered as I speak, or so help me I will do it when you get here!”
A few other workers turned their heads and suppressed a laugh. She collapsed inside the carriage and dropped her head to her arm on the seat, since her backside was on the floor. She and Jase had been seen as the lost causes since the beginning. No one believed in the pairing of men of women, let alone servant and master. It didn’t hurt that she spent so much time yelling at him to get his head out of the clouds they had failed three times prior.
This was going to be the last time she tried. If they failed, she was going to pull herself from the program and leave the Americas. A Stormling wasn’t allowed to do what they wanted, but she knew her power was deadly, and it would take an army of Stormlings to stop her—and none would. They were all fairly upset with the way they were forced into a special location, and then demanded to do tasks.
A crash made her yank her head up from her arm. Jase was finally inside the church. He looked different though. His eyes were shifting side to side, and he didn’t seem to have the usual bravado in step—the one that she found incredibly endearing but would never tell him as much. His walk was hastened as he crossed the distance between the door and the front of the church where she stood waiting with their carriage.
She saw it then, what he’d been holding close to his chest—the crystals. She’d thought he had them, but wasn’t certain until that moment. She reached out, and yanked him inside the carriage with a hiss. “What are you doing with those?”