Read The Lost Soul (Fallen Soul Series, Book 1) Online
Authors: Jessica Sorensen
The Lost Soul (Fallen Soul Series, Book 1)
Table of Contents
The Lost Soul
Jessica Sorensen
All rights reserved.
Copyright © 2012 by Jessica Sorensen.
First Paperback Edition: June 2012
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
No part of this book can be reproduced in any form or by electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without the permission in writing from author. The only exception is by a reviewer who may quote short excerpts in a review.
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Cover Design Mae I Design
The Lost Soul
—Book 1 of the Fallen Soul Series
There’s no electricity, no humming on my skin. But standing in the field beside him, I feel electrified, like the lightning flashing across the cloudy sky.
“This is silly.” I frown at Alex and pout out my lip. “We’ve been trying for weeks and I still can’t get it right.”
A crooked smile plays at his lips. His green eyes shine lustrously. His dark brown hair is a mess all over his head and dangles in his eyes. “You’ll get there. Practice makes perfect, right?” He saunters behind me and leans his head over my shoulder. “If you want to break into the City of Crystal, to get your dad back, you’ll have to be able to protect yourself. Dyvinius and the Foreseers aren’t going to go down without a fight.”
I square my shoulders and summon some determination. The wind tangles my brown hair and Alex sweeps it to the side. Clutching the knife, I aim the blade at the target mounted on the tree.
“Breathe,” he whispers. “And focus.”
Releasing a breath, I flip the knife through the air toward the target. It flies like a dart, but stops several feet short of the tree, curving down and stabbing into the grass.
“You’ll get it.” Alex lets out a breath. “You want to practice using the sword instead?”
I tilt my head back, meeting his eyes. “Why does it feel like you’re trying to turn me into a ninja?”
“I’m not. I’m trying to teach you how to defend yourself.” He pauses, his eyes darkening with a look that makes my skin heat. “Although, you’d make one hell of a hot ninja.”
My face remains stoic, even though my stomach spins a somersault. “Yeah, let’s move onto the sword. I think the grass has had enough of my bad aims for one day.”
He nods and heads to his old cherry-red Chevy Camaro to collect the swords. I hike to the tree and pick up the knife. It’s verging on springtime, the leaves blossoming, the grass crisping with the warmer air. Lilacs flourish all around and the forest sings a gentle breeze. There’s peacefulness in the air, but it’s unnerving. Every time it’s quiet, uneasiness plagues me. Even though Stephan and the Death Walkers are gone and the portal can’t open, I fear danger and death are always around the corner, waiting for the perfect time to strike.
“You okay?” Alex waves his hand in front of my face. “What are those pretty violet eyes of yours staring at?”
I blink. “Nothing. I was just dazing off.”
“You’re worrying again.” He rubs his jawline and adjusts the duffel bag on his shoulder. “I told you everything’s going to be fine. No one’s out to get us. We’re out to get them.”
We move to the middle of the field, where the grass is shorter and drier. Thunder booms and lightening reflects in our eyes.
“Are you sure we’re safe out here?” I glance at the dark sky.
He hands me the sharp sword. “We’re fine. Trust me.”
“I do.” I elevate the jagged blade engraved with the inscription:
mortem ubique
.
He poises his sword in front of him and arches an eyebrow. “You ready?”
I take a practice swing. “Yep, I’m ready.”
He stalks me like a rival, but he won’t hurt me. My feet are rooted to the ground. When he gets close, I spring forward and swing. He shields his knife up and our blades clink together. I twirl quickly and bring the sword around again, hoping that I don’t actually hit him. He ducks and his hand snakes around my waist. He lurches me into him and my sword falls to the grass.
Alex laughs softly and his fingers explore my skin. “Rematch?”
I sigh, resting my head against his shoulder. “I think I might—”
I’m interrupted by the ground, vibrating violently beneath our feet. Alex’s grip tightens on my hip as we’re jolted sideways. The grass splits apart and the dirt rises. He stabs the sword in the dirt and forces our weight on it. But our feet lose traction as the field opens up, striving to swallow us whole.
I grasp onto Alex as my feet dangle into the bottomless hole. I blink, trying to foresee us the hell out of the way, but my head fills with a buzz that crushes inside my skull.
“Hold on!” he screams, shifting his feet onto the flat land. Still holding me with one hand, he rolls on his stomach and catches my other hand. Fighting against the world, he hauls me up, a shoe slipping off and disappearing into the darkness.
We collapse, panting, pulses racing. As the earth rumbles, we scurry to our feet and dash for the car. The ground waves after us, thunder booms, lightning strikes at the trees. It’s the end of the world coming down on us. Again.
Then just as suddenly as the insanity began, it ceases. We halt and slowly turn around. Dirt has overtaken the grass. Trees are singed to a crisp and the sky is inactive and silent. Expanding out of the hole in the ground is a large willow tree. There is a person standing by the coarse trunk, but the branches cape down, shielding the person’s identity. But it’s a person I think I know.
Alex starts for the tree, but I draw him back, shaking my head. “Don’t… that tree’s from The Afterlife.”
His eyebrows furrow as his eyes drift to the willow tree. A woman steps from underneath the wispy branches. Her white hair dances around her elongated face, her red lips are pursed together, and her silver eyes shimmer.
“That’s Annabella,” I hiss, my limbs stiffening. “What’s she doing here?”
Alex aims the sword at her. “Why are you here?”
Annabella—the Queen of Essences—smoothes the wrinkles in her white dress, her eyes targeted on us, her lips refusing to speak.
Alex charily steps for her, a warning lacing his tone. “Annabella, what do you want?”
She smiles, motioning her hand, beckoning us to come closer.