Souljacker

by Kodilynn Calhoun

  “Yeah, but one cup size up would be nice.” I sigh.

  “Iofiel will be wiping drool off his chin as soon as he sees you.”

  “Yeah right.” I snort, flicking her in the head before heading down the hall. As usual, I pause outside Mrs. Rockwell’s door, surprised to see her sitting up on the edge of the bed, wearing a pretty white sundress. Her dark hair is still mussed from sleep, but she has her handbag on her lap.

  “Mrs. Rockwell?” This is the first time I’ve seen her dressed up since I moved in here. It’s odd.

  She turns, her eyes meeting mine. “Don’t you look pretty! What’s the occasion?”

  I feel heat creep up my neck. “I’ve got a date. With a boy.” Well, duh, with a boy. Come on, Lucy.

  Her face lights up and she gets to her feet. I push through the door into her room and she meets me halfway, her hands clasping mine. They’re chilly, but she cups my face in her palms and smiles at me. “My baby’s growing up. It was just yesterday that you took your first steps.”

  And just as I think she’s getting better... I smile tightly, reaching for her. She folds into my arms, all bones and harsh angles, and I just hug her. When I pull away, she has tears in her eyes, brimming like crystals.

  “Where are you going today?”

  She bursts into tears and not silent ones, but noisy sobs that wrack her entire body. She sinks down to the floor and I ease her down to keep her from falling. The door bursts open all the way and Mr. Rockwell lumbers in, his eyes pinpointing lasers into me.

  “What did you do to her?” he all but snarls.

  I back away, feeling helpless, like a fly trapped in a spider’s web. He drops to his knees beside her and despite the fact that I hate him, I can feel the agony rippling off of him in torrents. What would it be like to lose the one you love to something like this?

  “I didn’t do anything,” I mumble. “I’m going out.” I hurry away before he can say anything else, racing down the stairs and out the door. Sync zips along at my side.

  I sit on the porch steps, my legs stretched out in front of me, boot heels digging into the gravel. I will not cry. It’ll ruin my makeup and damnit, I look good for once. Besides, what would Iofiel say if he saw me sobbing for no good reason? He’d probably turn on his heel and hurry away.

  I lift my head. A sleek but rust-speckled hover bike stops out front and I recognize the worn leather jacket. I stand up quickly, nerves making my palms sweaty, and Iofiel grins at me from underneath his bangs. “Hey, beautiful. You okay? Looking a little pale there.”

  “I’m always pale.” Then, “Yeah. I’m ready. Let’s get out of here.”

  “Curfew?”

  “Don’t care if I ever come back. How’s that?”

  “I can work with that.” He chuckles, swinging his leg over the bike. He pats the seat behind him. “Hop on. Sorry about the ride. It sucks, I know, but Dad’s a hard ass and won’t let me get a car.” He shrugs his shoulders in a ‘what can you do?’ way and I climb on behind him.

  My hands slide down his sides, resting at his waist, and I feel another flood of heat touch my face. Thank God he can’t see me. He revs the engine and we putter away, Sync nestled between my legs.

  We pull into the back-forty of NiteGlo, an indoor mini golf arena. It’s not very full for a Saturday night. Perfect. Iofiel parks and we walk through the brightly lit lot and shove through the double doors. We’re deposited into darkness, the air probably pumped full of oxygen, like the casinos. The floors are lit with green glow bars in the shape of arrows, which lead the way to the lobby.

  Iofiel pulls out a battered wallet and slides a couple bills across the counter to a woman. She has pink glow sticks draped around her neck and both arms, but that’s the only features of hers I can pick out in the darkness. She stamps our hands with a jagged star symbol and hands us two mini golf clubs and two balls doused in paint that glows under a black light.

  “Remember to play the last hole at the end. If you get a hole-in-one, you get a free game,” the woman says. “Otherwise, it just brings your ball back to us.”

  I stiffen as I feel Iofiel’s hand brush mine, sending Need tingles racing up my fingertips, cupping my palms in heat. I grind my teeth together and follow Sync’s bobbing antennae into the arena. Each hole is set up with a glow of lights and different obstacles. They look like they get harder the farther you get in the game. Which means Hole 18 is probably the devil incarnate.

  Iofiel offers me a ball and a club and I’m careful not to touch his skin again as I pluck them delicately from his fingertips. Maybe this was a bad idea… The Need is rearing its ugly head, a great water monster coming up from the lagoon, complete with venomous fangs. I shudder and watch as he places his pink ball on the fake turf and swings back with his club.

  And misses.

  I can’t help but snort, nerves rushing out of me with that one exhale. “Wow. You’ve done this before.”

  He chuckles. “Hey, we’re here to have fun, not to be professional golfers. I never claimed to be any good at this!” He doesn’t seem put off at all—instead, he sounds amused. He nicks the ball on his third swing and it sails up the ramp and bounces off the bumper. It takes him four tries to get the ball from turf to hole. Definitely over par.

  “My turn,” I announce, shaking out the nerves. I bunch and roll my shoulders, then place the green ball on the starting spot. Carefully, I swing and the club clinks against the ball. It zooms up the ramp, scooting around the bumper, and stops two inches from the hole. I triumphantly sink it in my next shot.

  “Looks like this is gonna be a steal.” And I can see his grin in the flash of strobe lights from the next turf over.

  This goes on for fifteen more holes—him failing at mini golf and laughing about it, and me sinking shots in one or two tries. The arenas get trickier as we go, even going so far as to have moving partitions and obstacles that you have to time just right to get the ball in. Iofiel curses as his ball is deflected by a scary clown. Its tongue sticks out, covering the hole and mocking us with mechanical laughter. I let out a bark of amusement, my earlier tension fading away with each swing of Iofiel’s club.

  Sync bobs above the clown. “Ooh, bested by a G2 robot. Pretty sad.”

  “The game isn’t over yet,” he says and my heart does a silly swoon at his boyish smile. I giggle—me? giggling?—and put on the brakes. Oh hell, I’m turning into one of those girls I hate, the ones who hang on their boyfriends’ arms and giggle like school girls at every smooth word they say.

  Then he says, “It’s good to hear you laugh, Lucy,” and it all doesn’t matter. I’m beaming, my heart doing double time in my chest. I’m tempted to touch him, just my hand brushing against his to feel the warmth of his skin, something innocent, but I’m afraid of what will happen if I do. I don’t want to lose control. I should’ve taken a bit more from Jale on Friday. Then I wouldn’t be having these…cravings.

  “Swing, batter, batter,” Sync calls from the corner of the turf and Iofiel laughs, joining in. They sound like crows cawing and I flip them both the bird in the flash of strobe lights. I take a deep breath, zero my eyes on the hole, and swing. The ball ticks off the club, flies up the ramp, and lands smack-dab in the freaking hole. I squeal and do a little dance as lights blast around us, signaling a hole in one.

  Before I realize what’s happening, Iofiel’s long arm is wrapped around my shoulders, squeezing me, and he’s laughing in my ear; a sweet, sultry sound. All it would take is a tip of my head towards his, our noses brushing, our eyes locking. My heart skips, then stops in my chest, deer in the headlights style. My lungs burn and suddenly, I can’t breathe.

  Need rips through me, like my skin’s been set alight and is burning off, turning to ash and fluttering to the ground. I jerk out of his arms, gulping down a lungful of air.

  “Luce?” he asks, his voice suddenly worried, but I throw my hands out to keep him back. Oh, God. Not here. Please… My pulse thunders in my head and I back away.


  “I’m going to use the girls’ room,” I announce in a strained voice, spinning on my heel and nearly tripping over the partition. I hear Sync say something and then she’s zooming along at my side, asking if I’m alright, but I can’t answer.

  Tears burn my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. I force sharp, short breaths through my nose as I collapse in a bathroom stall. It’s almost too bright in here after the darkness of the mini golf arena and my eyes feel gritty.

  “Okay, tell me what happened,” Sync demands, her robotic voice slicing through the pounding of my brain. She hovers in front of my face and I reach for her, cupping her in my hands. Her cool metal shell somehow grounds me and I relax against the stall wall, my boots squeaking on the dirty tile.

  “I don’t know. I just felt the rush and I…I hate it so much, Sync. I like him. I shouldn’t be around him, but damnit, why can’t I have one thing in my life that I don’t screw up? Why can’t I be normal for once and have a normal boyfriend who kisses me and loves me and is normal? I deserve that!”

  One tear breaks through the dam holding them back, sliding down my cheek. I smear it away with the back of my hand. My voice is so much smaller when I say, “I don’t want to hurt him. I couldn’t live with myself. It’s stupid. I don’t even know him! But…” A sob catches in my throat, lodging there. It makes a strangled sound as it comes out.

  “Are you serious about him?” Sync asks.

  “I wish I could be. I want to be. Yeah.”

  “Maybe you should…tell him?”

  I blink at her, my heart clenching at her suggestion. “I can’t.” Telling him would be suicide. It’s bad enough that everyone at school thinks I’m a freak. I couldn’t stand it if Iofiel looked at me with such judgment.

  “He might understand.”

  “He’d shove me away!”

  “I don’t know, Luce. He’s different, somehow. I think he’d be shocked, but I don’t know. Might be worth a try? Hint around?”

  “No. Just…no. I can’t risk it.”

  “Alright. It’s your choice. But you can’t just leave him out there. Chin up, Luce.”

  I climb to my feet and check my reflection in the mirror. My face is red, but I look okay. I take a deep breath, stare at myself, and say: “I can do this.” Then, with Sync at my side, we go back out there to face Iofiel.

  He’s sitting on the edge of Hole 17 and jumps to his feet as we near him. “Are you okay?”

  “Girl stuff,” I manage around a tight smile that I hope looks somewhat natural. “I’m good. Come on. Let’s see if I can beat your butt.”

  We make our way through to the final hole, which looks treacherous with its seventy degree incline and flame-spewing robotic dragons. Iofiel whistles low and steps back. “I’m gonna see how the pro does it first.”

  I huff and step forward. And promptly fail. My ball goes up, up, up…then down and sinks into the slots at the bottom of the incline. It disappears. Iofiel doesn’t do much better. “Oh well, at least we had fun right?” he asks as we take our golf clubs back up to the front desk.

  I smile at him. Despite my minor freak out, yeah. This was the most fun I’ve had in awhile. “Definitely.”

  “You wanna go get some ice cream?” He glances to me, suddenly shy, and I feel my heart do another flop in my chest. I nod and he grins. “Best date ever.”

  “It’s not over yet.” I tutt at him, but he merely shrugs. We get back on his bike and the night air has a chill to it, despite it being nearly summer. It blows my hair out of my face, running cool fingers through sweat-damp strands.

  I sigh and relax, my hands resting lightly against the soft leather of his jacket. What I wouldn’t give to just slip my hands under his jacket and explore. Instead I clench handfuls of leather and ignore the Need.

  We order ice cream cones and we sit on the curb to eat them. Sync is resting on the back seat of his hover bike. Or well, she’s pretending to rest. I know Sync; she’s actually giving me privacy. I almost wish she was over here as I lick off the chocolate drips trailing down the edge of my cone.

  “So why me?” I look towards him and he pauses mid-bite. He frowns a little, peeling the label off the cone little by little and crinkling it up, as if he doesn’t know how to answer.

  “I don’t know. Just…I saw you and something clicked. I can’t explain it. Besides, I don’t wanna sound like a stalker or something.” He shrugs a little. “To be honest, I’m not supposed to see you. Dad would kill me if he found out.”

  “Why?”

  “Dunno. I guess he thinks I should be focusing on my career, not a silly relationship that will, quote-unquote, ‘never work out’. But I can’t help it, Lucy. I like you…” He gives me a sheepish, freaking adorable, smile.

  “A lot, in fact.” He rests his free hand on my knee, and even though there’s a layer of cloth between us, I can feel the clenching heat drawing upwards to the surface.

  I choke on a bite of cone, my throat tightening. He pounds on my back gently and it takes everything I have not to just take his hands in mine and just…breathe him in. In a bad way. A very bad way.

  I pull out of his grip, bounding to my feet. I cough again, turning away from him. “I’m sorry, Iofiel. I can’t do this.” I barely manage to get the words out.

  “Lucy?” He’s reaching for me and I wrap my arms around myself. I take a wary step back. “Did I do something wrong?” His gaze clouds over and I shake my head.

  “No. You’re…awesome. It’s me. It’s always been me.” I let out a barking laugh. “I have to go. I’m sorry. Sync.” Sync bobs up at her name, flitting over to me.

  I hear Iofiel call my name as I sprint off down the street on foot, my boots making my feet ache with each step I take, but that’s nothing compared to the ache in my chest, tearing me apart from the inside out.

  This is why I picked the name Lucifer. I hate the way the Need makes me feel, makes me act. It controls my life and I never asked for this. I never asked to rip my mom’s soul out of her body so forcefully that she didn’t even make a sound. She just dropped to the ground, lifeless, leaving little-me to hover over her body, unable to cry because the soul—her soul—zinging around deep inside me made me so happy, so full. So content. It wasn’t until a week later that I realized she was gone and she was never coming back.

  I sob, my boot catching on the curb. I stumble but somehow stay upright, and swipe furiously at the tears leaving hot streaks down my cheeks. Even if I told Iofiel what I was, and somehow, miraculously, he loved me anyway? I’d end up killing him. It just won’t work. It’s better this way. Better for both of us.

  I peer down the alley where my hound usually waits for me. “Freak!” I call, my voice soft and hoarse and tired, but no one’s here. I sink down against the brick wall, tugging my knees into my chest and locking my arms around them. I press my face into my legs and let it come out, despite the traffic the next street over. It doesn’t matter.

  A plaintive whine fills the silence and my hound nudges my arm, his nose cold and wet against my skin. “Oh, little freak,” I say on a sigh, dragging my fingers through his fur. The hound sits down, scooting towards me. I wrap an arm around his neck, pulling him close, but he doesn’t care. He just wags his tail, slow and steady.

  “I’ve screwed everything up. I like him. I really like him. But it’s just…not safe. I refuse to hurt him.” It comes tumbling out of me. I press my face against his head and let tears soak his fur.

  Then my hound vibrates with a low rumble and I pull away. He’s staring across the street, to where another cyberhound stands, his hackles and tail raised. His eye glows red in the darkness and he looks like something off a horror movie. Freak steps forwards and they exchange growls. I jump to my feet.

  My hound glances back at me, a sort of sad look on his face, and he drops his head, but doesn’t move. He stands between me and the bigger cyberhound, as if warning him away, but it doesn’t work.

  In two bounds, the bigger male is on top of Freak, fang
s sinking into his neck. My hound shrieks and growls, twisting underneath the jaws of the other. I see blood darken Freak’s coat and I can’t stand to watch.

  “Luce!” Sync cries as I lunge towards the fight, barely dodging the snap of Freak’s fangs. I straddle the bigger hound, my fingers wrapping around his ears, jerking them backwards. His real eye, pale blue and cold as dry ice, rolls back towards me and his lips wrinkle back to show fangs. I kick his underside with my boot and he tries to get out from under me. I yank on his ears and scream at him until my throat is raw.

  He bucks and I hit the ground hard, the air whooshing out of my lungs. I swing my fist back, ready to slam it into the hound’s ugly face, when I’m jerked to my feet. The air shimmers and crackles with magic, like a Portal, and in the cyberhound’s place is a lean man with a cybernetic arm, his metal fingers tight around my wrist.

  Holy slag.

  He jerks me closer, the human side of his face still animalistic in its snarl. The other side of his face is all freaky and metal. “Mind your own damn business,” he snaps, then shoves me away.

  I stagger back just as he spins, turning back into his cyborg-hound self. Freak gives me a pained look with his one soulful, suddenly familiar chocolate eye, then bolts down the street at a gallop. The other hound roars and races after him and I watch until I can’t see them against the darkness anymore.

  Even then, I just stand there, staring into the night, shock ebbing over me like a slow tide.

  If cyberhounds can turn into men with hollowed robot faces…

  Anyone could be a hound. Anyone at all. Except—

  My thoughts fly to Iofiel, to the leather mask he always wears to cover the left side of his face, to hide the scarring from an accident in his youth. But what if it isn’t a scar at all…? What if it’s more than that?

  What if Freak is Iofiel?

  Chapter 9:

  Iofiel