Souljacker

by Kodilynn Calhoun

  “The jerk who tackled you?” She bunches her shoulders, as if warding off a chill. I nod and she wrinkles her nose. “Creep.”

  “Agreed, but creep or not, he’s got his finger on the trigger. One push, and I’m... Done. He’ll turn me over to the Unseelie and I’d really like to avoid being sliced and diced. Wait.” I pull away from her, hurry to her other side and then lace my human fingers through hers. I give a sheepish smile at her curious look. “I want to cherish my time spent with you. I don’t know how long we’ll have before—”

  “We just won’t get caught.” Her chin juts out, sudden anger gleaming in her eyes. If only she knew what a risk we were both taking… “I won’t let you get yourself killed for some girl.”

  I chuckle. “You’re not just any girl. You’re special. Different.”

  “Different equals weird. A freak of nature,” she interjects. “You’re pretty lonely if you think I’m special.”

  I don’t let her continue to put herself down—the way she sees herself and the way I see her are two totally different things. “So why didn’t you suck me dry when we kissed?” My eyes flick to hers and lock there.

  She opens her mouth but no words come out. I want to pinch her cheek and call her a fish-face but somehow, I don’t think she’d appreciate it. Slow and steady wins the race, Iofiel. Don’t freak her out by getting mushy. Finally she huffs. “Well… I found a donor.”

  I can’t help but laugh. “Someone’s donating soul? Where do I get in line?”

  She rolls her eyes and shoves me with her free hand. I stumble and catch myself, grinning so wide that it almost hurts. “It doesn’t matter, okay? But she knows who I am, and what I do, and she’s okay with that. So.”

  She shrugs and swings our connected hands in a way that reminds me of schoolgirls playing jump rope. She may be tough on the outside, but inside? She’s sensitive, younger than she pretends to be. I squeeze her hand and let our arms swing between us as we wind down the tunnel of the abandoned railway. She doesn’t say anything, so I don’t either; I just let us lapse into a peaceful silence.

  “Where should we meet?” She pipes up first.

  “When?”

  “Whenever I want to see you.”

  Alarm spikes in my veins. “No. I’ll find you. It won’t be safe to meet at the same spot, in case one of my brothers gets the bright idea to tail me. But I’ll come back for you. I promise.”

  With that, I tug her closer, placing a chaste kiss on her lips. Her reaction is a sweet smile. It fades as I gently remind her, “You have curfew, remember?” Wishing she didn’t, wishing she could stay here with me, even if that’s risking everything.

  Lucy sighs. “I hate curfew. But you’re right. I’d rather not get grounded.”

  “And I’d rather not get caught. Here.” I raise my hands and focus on the energy rippling there, forming a current midair. Lucy’s forehead creases as I pull a Portal from thin air. She crosses both arms over her chest and looks at me with a pointy expression on her face. “Voila. Portal to your place.”

  She opens her mouth to say something, then quirks a brow. “How do you know where I live? Are you stalking me?”

  “Only on four legs.” I wink.

  “Then you should know I hate Portals. Hate them. I’ll walk home.”

  “Lucy.” I catch her gaze and hold it. “I don’t want you to get eaten by a Wraith and I can’t follow you home. I have duty in…oh, eight minutes.” I look to the glimmer of the Portal, then back to her. “Please? For me?”

  She groans loudly, but finally nods. She wavers, watching me for a minute, before giving a smile so small it could barely be classified as a smile. “You’d better not forget about me, Iofiel.”

  “Not for the world, love,” I promise and watch as she steps through, her appearance fizzling out and disappearing into static that fades to nothing.

  Then I’m standing here alone, wishing I could follow her. Instead, I shift and lope down the tunnel so fast my paws kick up gravel.

  Someday.

  Chapter 15:

  Lucy

  The street shimmers before me and I step through, the Portal depositing me right outside my place. Damn, Iofiel really does stalk me on four legs. An amused giggle creeps up my throat and I shake my head, excitement still traipsing through me, a high from his kiss. I’ve never been kissed before, but if it’s always like that? I’ve been missing out.

  I take a deep breath. I’m probably late, which means Mr. Rockwell will be pissier than usual. He’ll lay down the law, ground me, forbid me to see Iofiel. Part of me doesn’t give a damn; I’ll do it anyway, but my heart skips a beat as I push through the front door.

  I expect him to be sitting in his armchair, a glower on his face, arms crossed over his chest as he ticks off the minutes on the clock. Instead, the living room is bathed in darkness, the only light coming from the dimmed panel above the kitchen sink. I creep through the living room, careful not to make too much noise, and into the kitchen.

  Mr. Rockwell’s shoes are gone and his car keys aren’t hanging on their hook. I poke my head into the garage to find it empty and relief builds up inside of me. I’m not that late—he can’t be out looking for me; besides, I don’t think he cares that much. He knows I’ll always come back here. What other choice do I have?

  Now that the impending doom is over, relief washes over me in a wave and reality sinks in. Oh my God. I was kissed. By a boy. And not just any boy—my boy. A grin spreads across my face, unbidden, and I touch my cheeks to find them hot. I give a little squeal-and-dance, totally out of character for me, but no one’s here to tattle.

  Caddie has to know about this. I reach for my cell in my bag. Except my bag’s not here. I left it back at Cosmo.

  Which means I left Sync with Caddie.

  Oh crap, she’s gonna be mad. She already thinks I’m ignoring her. What am I supposed to say about that? I haven’t left Sync anywhere since that time I was eight and I forgot her in my desk at school on Friday. I fretted all weekend, over whether she’d be okay or not, whether the janitors or whoever worked there would steal her, that maybe I’d never see her again. I even burst into tears when we were reunited Monday morning, much to the teacher’s chagrin. She wasn’t happy then, but I was a child and she forgave me.

  Now? Now I’m pretty sure I’m screwed, but at least I know Caddie will take care of her.

  I unbuckle my boots and slide them off, placing them by the front door so that when Mr. Rockwell comes home, he’ll see I’m here. My feet ache; blisters have swelled and popped as I peel my socks off and toss them in the dirty laundry. I’m still in Caddie’s borrowed dress and I need a shower from my run through the woods. Hot water will make anything better.

  I limp up the stairs and pass the colorful flicker of Mrs. Rockwell’s Holoscreen. I grab night clothes out of my dresser and lock myself in the bathroom.

  I crank the water up and close the curtain to keep the heat in. Then I strip out of my dress and take off my makeup with a little cleansing pad. I place my hand on my flat stomach and look at my reflection, to the way my boobs perk up, even if they are a bit on the small side.

  I tip my head back and my hair falls over my shoulders. I smile at myself, liking the gentle way my lips curve, wondering if Iofiel likes them too. I shake in a silent laugh as steam fogs the mirror over and I step under the spray of hot water that flows over my aching muscles, pounding the knots out of my neck.

  Our kiss plays through my mind on repeat. I can still taste him, still feel the buzz of energy as his lips pressed against mine. A hundred kisses would never be enough. He’s an addiction I never want to break. My head thrums with the beat of my pulse as I finish up. I want to tell Caddie, Sync, anyone. I want to shout it to the world.

  Lucifer Swift is in puppy love.

  I wrap a plush towel around myself, using a second to squeeze water from my hair. Streaks rain down from the tips of my hair, trickling down my back before soaking into the towel. I dry off and pull on a
pair of cotton PJ pants and a tank top. I pad barefoot down the hall, passing Mrs. Rockwell’s room once more. She’s sitting up in bed and she cranes her head towards the door as I pass it. So I pause and knock.

  “Hi,” I say, standing in the doorway. She smiles, her eyes clear and bright. She pats the bedspread beside her and I feel nerves skitter down my arms. I ease down onto the bed and pull my knees to my chest, watching her curiously.

  “You look happy,” she says with a smile and the dam inside me bursts. I can’t keep it in. I have to tell someone.

  “I am happy. I met this boy. He’s…amazing. And adorable. And I really, really like him.”

  “Not love?”

  “Not yet. But it definitely has the potential to be love, someday.”

  “Love is a wonderful thing,” she says, placing a warm hand on my knee. She squeezes it, a smile beaming across her face. “I remember my first true love. I was a junior in college, a straight-A student, always a high achiever. He was a rowdy bad boy, a partier who didn’t give jack shit about grades. And he was so handsome in his leather jacket and boots.”

  I smile, thinking of Iofiel’s jacket. “What was his name?”

  “Derek. I ended up skipping a night of studying, just to go to a party so I could talk to him. He had girls crowding around him, practically drooling, but when he saw me and our eyes met, it was like… I knew he was The One. My soul mate. He asked me out and we dated a couple times before we called it official. We were perfect for each other. He was the yin to my yang and all that sappy stuff.

  “My daddy didn’t like the idea of us dating. I still lived at home to pay for school loans and he tried to control me. Said I couldn’t see him, so I moved in with Derek. We were happy and we never fought, never argued. He asked me to marry him in front of the entire school.” She blushes and hugs her pillow to her chest, the picture of a love-struck schoolgirl. “I loved him.”

  “He told me he was different. That he wasn’t normal. I didn’t care—he was perfect. I got pregnant and I was so happy. It wasn’t planned or expected, it just happened. We were going to have a baby girl. We fixed up the spare bedroom in pinks and purples and bought a crib and everything. And then…” Her expression clouds, a frown tugging the edges of her smile downwards, sad.

  “We were walking home from a movie and the Wraiths attacked us; they’d never once bothered me before. Derek fought them off, but I fell. I was bleeding. He rushed me to the hospital and they were able to stop the miscarriage, but Derek was afraid. He said it wasn’t safe. That he was dangerous. He begged me to believe him. I said that I loved him, that it didn’t matter. He put his hands on my stomach and told me to protect our daughter with my heart and soul. I promised him that I would, of course I would…”

  She gets quiet for several minutes, just hugging her pillow and staring off into space. I touch her shoulder and she gives me a mournful look.

  “Derek left. I don’t know where he went. And I couldn’t protect Aely. I tried, God, I tried.” A sob catches in her throat and tears wash down her pale cheeks. “I thought I was so strong. And look at me. Look at me! I’m a mess. I’m a failure. I couldn’t even keep my own daughter safe.”

  “You tried,” I say, rubbing her shoulder. She shrugs out from under my touch, drawing away, crying softly. “Sometimes, trying is all you can do.”

  But she doesn’t hear me. She curls up on her side, nibbling the corner of the pillow between her teeth. I stand up and after an awkward moment, I pull the sheets up to her chin. She reaches out from beneath the bedspread and squeezes my hand in hers.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper and she shakes her head. I back out of her room, leaving her door cracked open, but even in my room I can hear her ragged sobs.

  My own heart aches as I lay down in bed, Sync’s familiar glow no longer my night light. I bury my face in my pillow and try to think of Iofiel, think of tonight, but all I can see is Mrs. Rockwell dropping to her knees, crying, as Aely is torn away from her.

  I don’t fall asleep until after her sobs have fallen silent.

  ***

  A little girl stands on the corner, her blonde hair falling into her face and her too-big coat hanging on her small frame. The rain spits down around us, too cold to be a summer rain, and the girl hops off the curb, splashing into a puddle. I want to go to her, to tell her to go home, to get out of this weather; the sky is churning black clouds and lightning streaks between them. She should be home, with her mother.

  I open my mouth to call out to her, but my voice doesn’t work. A shadow flickers at the alley as the girl passes it, tall and hulking and shapeless and terrifying. My heart ratchets up a notch and I scream again, but this time a cold hand is covering my mouth, stealing my breath before I can even breathe in. The girl jerks her head up, her blue eyes wide as saucers as she looks up into the gaping mouth and empty eyes of the Wraith.

  She just stares up at it in awe. The Wraith lets out a rattling shriek and the girl screams, but not before the creature’s dark arms wrap around her, holding her tight. Her screams echo in my ears, piercing wails that peter out as the Wraith sucks life from her.

  The girl twitches and spasms and then sinks to the ground. She drops to her knees, head lolling forwards, hair obscuring a face way too pale. She splashes face-down in a puddle and the Wraith turns its cold eyes on me.

  I open my mouth to scream, but all the air has fled my lungs, leaving me an icy chill. Panic climbs up my throat like a frightened cat, clawing painfully up my esophagus and out my mouth. My lungs ache with cold and pressure and I feel the hot press of tears behind my eyelids. I just pray that I die quick, because this isn’t painless, not in the least. The Wraith’s mouth is at my ear, whispering my name in its frigid, breathy voice: Lucy. Lucy.

  “Lucy!”

  I jerk awake, toppling out of my bed and landing in a pile of sheets and blankets on the floor. I swipe at my face, wet with tears, and gasp for breath. My lungs are burning, but sweet air rushes through my nose as I inhale and breathe out. My entire body’s trembling as I stare up at Mr. Rockwell in his blue robe. His hair is disheveled, like I just woke up him out of a deep sleep, and his eyes gleam…concerned?

  “Bad dream,” I mutter, pulling the sheets over me.

  He opens his mouth and pauses, as if he’s trying to find something nice to say. Something compassionate. Then he shrugs his broad shoulders. “You’re gonna be late for school,” he says and shuffles back out of my room.

  I scramble to my feet and check the clock. Crap, he’s right! I throw on a pair of jeans off the floor and grab a clean shirt out of my drawer, run a brush through my hair, and call it good. I don’t even bother with my boots, just find a pair of flats and dart out the door without eating breakfast.

  The little girl in my dream… She looked just like the pictures of Aely on the mantle, delicate with big, blue eyes. Trusting eyes. I run down the street and around a corner. My flats flap against my heels and make clapping sounds on the pavement.

  It was just a dream. Aely’s body was never found. If a Wraith had gotten her, her body would’ve been left behind. Wraiths only need the spirit, not the shell. My chest aches.

  In ways, I’m kind of like a Wraith…

  A shadow looms behind me and I can’t bear to turn around and see who it is. I feel a tendril of icy air slice through the humidity and I bite back a scream. I’m running faster now, arms pumping at my sides. I lose a shoe—it flies off and into the street and I sail forwards. I go down hard on one knee, feel a jolt of pain, but I can’t stop. I leave the chill behind as I drag myself up the stairs to Maelstrom High and bolt through the door.

  And slam right into the chest of Ms. Crowley, the bitchy assistant principal. Her hair is done up in intricate ebony knots, braided around her head in a crown, and she wears a formal pin-striped suit and ugly shoes.

  I try and catch my breath and she launches into a spiel of how I’ll never make it in the world if I can’t even arrive on time. That I need to start using th
e Portals, that I only endanger myself by walking. I tune her out, mostly because of the rush of blood in my head and the holy-crap-I-just-outran-a-Wraith thing. I focus on her as she clicks her fingers in front of my face.

  “Excuse me, Miss Swift. Did you hear a thing I said?”

  “Am I getting detention?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Then I really didn’t need to hear anything else.”

  I turn away just as her face ignites into a snarl. “Friday night until eight.”

  I look over my shoulder at her, feeling pretty damn good about myself. I just beat death, without the help of my cyberhound. My lip threatens to quirk into a smile, but instead I look at her with a straight face and say, “I’ll probably be late,” and wave and head down the hall before I realize I’m still missing a shoe.

  Caddie sidles up next to me, her shoulder bumping mine as we stand in line for lunch. She bubbles with energy that slides into me, calling to my Need, which seems to perk up its head. I bite down a groan. Not now.

  I don’t touch her, just in case, and she seems to realize what’s going on because she pulls away from me with a nod. “Where’d you go last night in such a hurry? I thought maybe you had to make a bathroom run, but I waited around and you never came back.” Strangely, she doesn’t seem at all mad at me for ditching.

  I shoot her a look, unable to help my smile. “I saw him.”

  Her dark eyes go round, gleeful. “As in, the boy, him?”

  “Yeah. He was just leaving, so I followed him. I couldn’t get his attention at first, but…we talked.” Oh, we did so much more than talking. My heart flip-flops. “He’s not allowed to date; his dad’s a real strict guy, so we’re gonna have to sneak around to be together.”

  “So it’s official then? Ohmygod, did you two kiss?”

  I’d planned on fibbing a little, but apparently my blush must give me away because Caddie squealed so loudly that a preppy girl in the front of the line turns around to give us a death glare. I hear someone say, “That chick must’ve finally gotten her period. Hallelujah,” and a chorus of laughter, but Caddie doesn’t even react. She beams as we step up and get our trays, piled high with stringy spaghetti in a thick, red sauce. The garlic bread served with it looks three days old. Gross.