The Lost Soul (Fallen Soul Series, Book 1) (13 page)

“
Te sunt seruatis unum
.” His lips curl. “But it will come.”

I latch onto the words, because I can’t translate them. My eyes search Alex’s, hoping for a small piece of him still thriving inside. His eyes are empty—soulless.

“Alex.” I take on a new approach. “Please come back to me. Don’t let him take you.”

His hands slide down my shoulders, down my arms, and stop at my wrists. He clutches forcefully, bruising my skin. “Maybe this is really him and he’s finally showing his true colors.”

I open my mouth, but then clamp it shut, knowing my voice will shake.

He shoves back, his calm demeanor returning. “Have fun on your walk.” He saunters out, leaving me with my worry and the fear that it might be too late to save him.

***

Laylen and Aislin are waiting for me under a tree at the edge of the lake, the leafy limbs shading the remaining trickle of sunlight. Dusk is taking over, blanketing the land with darkness.

“Where is he?” Laylen asks as I approach them.

I drop down on the grass, tucking my legs under me. “Alex, or should I say the Lost Soul, isn’t coming. I think it might be worse than we thought.” I raise my arms, showing them the welts forming where he gripped me. “The Lost Soul spoke to me.”

Laylen takes my arm and examines my wrist with shock. “Alex did this to you?”

“No, The Lost Soul did,” I clarify.

“What did he say?” Aislin kneels up and covers her knees with her skirt.

I pick at the grass. “He said maybe it’s really Alex and he’s finally just showing his true colors.”

“You know that’s not true,” Aislin comforts me. “It’s the Lost Soul messing with your head.”

“I know.” I toss some grass in the air and watch it land in the water.  “
Te sunt seruatis unum
.
”

“What?” Aislin and Laylen gape at me.

“That’s the other thing he said,” I explain. “What does it mean?”

“It means you’re one of the protected ones.” Laylen fiddles with his lip ring.

“I’m protected from the Queen?” I support my elbow on my leg and let my chin fall in my hand. “Or protected from The Lost Souls?”

“I’m not sure.” Aislin’s hair flaps in the wind as she stares at the lake. “I’d guess it means you’re significant somehow.”

“But the star’s energy isn’t in me anymore,” I say. “I thought I was normal again.”

“I don’t think you’ll ever be normal,” Laylen states with honesty. “I don’t think any of us will be.”

A bitter taste floods my mouth. “I wish we were, though.”

We nod our heads agreeing.

“We’re being watched,” Aislin states through gritted teeth.

Standing in the arch entryway of the castle, Alex has his arms crossed, his eyes fastened to our huddle up.

“What do you think he’s doing?” Aislin fiddles with her hooped earring.

“Planning our murder probably,” Laylen jokes tensely.

“I have an idea.” I slip off my shoes and squeeze behind Laylen. I hoist myself into the tree. The branches crackle as I ascend upward. Moving slowly, I reach a thick branch that elongates over the lake. I step on it vigilantly, feeling the sway.  With my hands out to the side, I balance to the end. It curves under my weight and my breath falters.

“Gemma, don’t.” Laylen advises from below.

I glance at the castle to make sure Alex is still watching, then I raise my hands above my head. My heart leaps in my throat as I spring on my toes and dive into the lake. Screams ring the air and the icy water stings my skin like pins and needles. I thrash my arms, resurfacing, before losing momentum and sinking for the bottom. Murky water suffocates my lungs, blinds my eyes.

Alex, where are you?
I kick my legs and paddle my arms, verging for the surface, but never breaking it.
Don’t be afraid. Laylen will save you.
Water chokes my lungs and smothers my sight. A hand clasps mine and I’m yanked upward. Warmth rushes over me until bony fingers twine around my ankle.

Something’s wrong. The Water Faeries are out, even though the lake hasn’t been sprinkled with ash. They wrench on my leg and my fingers slip from my rescuer. Darkness assails me as I downfall to The Underworld.

I’ve been to The Underworld before to save my mom from the Queen’s custody. It’s a wretched place, packed with the death. The Water Fey like to torture people and creatures who commit horrendous crimes. They feed off pain and fear, like it’s water and air.

The faerie drags me to the bottom of the lake and dives into a tunnel channeling into the sand. Even if I escaped, I’d drown before I made it to the top. Water whirlpools and sloshes my body in different directions. When we splash to land, I’m dizzy and half-drowned. I hack up water until my ribs ache. My gaze scales to a waterfall, roaring over a rocky cliff.  I shove up, my palms scraping the jagged rocks. A Water Faerie, white and wispy, floats in front of me. Its hollow eyes refuse to leave me. I dodge to the side, but it whooshes over and blocks my path. I spin around, prepared to plunge back into the water.

“No.” The faerie’s breathy voice delivers a shiver down my spine. “This way.”

I glance over my shoulder. “You can
talk
?”

Its fabric legs touch the rocks. “Only for the protected.” It soars upward and plummets behind me. “Now go.”

My legs tremble as I mount the side of the steep cliff. The rough edges cut my bare feet and my drenched clothes weigh me down. The faerie taunts me, floating behind me during the climb. My hands blunder, but I snatch a ledge before falling to a painful death. When I heave onto the top, I’m breathless and dripping with sweat and water.

“Get up,” the Water Faerie commands.

I rub the dirt from my eyes and stand up. A long tunnel stretches into the wall of the cliff and The Water Faerie shoos me down it. The light disappears the farther I walk. Pitch black eventually takes over.

“You say I’m one of the protected.” I trip down the tunnel. “What does that mean?”

It doesn’t reply.

Sand encrusts my feet and clothes. The musty air is overpowering and the ceiling leaks moldy water. When I escape the tunnel, and step into the light, I don’t know whether to be relieved or frightened.

“Gemma Lucas.” The Queen’s sunken eyes acknowledge me with delight. Her flowing white hair blends with her dress and her flaky lips curl to a revengeful smirk. “Daughter of Jocelyn Lucas, how very kind of you to return to my kingdom.”

“I didn’t return,” I snap. “I was stolen against my will.”

“There’s no need to be rude,” she responds with caution in her tone. “You were brought here for a reason.”

“Why?” I question snippily. “To torture my soul?”

“Come with me and I’ll show you.” Gathering the train of her dress, she resorts to her chambers. The room sparkles with rays of light that shimmer against the graphite. The Queen’s throne serpents to the bowled ceiling, carved of clear and violet quartz. A wooden chair is perched across from the throne in an area where the light gathers.

“Please, have a seat.” She lowers onto the throne and adjusts her dress.

“No thanks,” I decline. “I’d rather stand.”

“I’m not asking.” She snaps her fingers. Two Water Faeries tackle me and force me to the chair. The Queen laughs. “This is my land and my rules apply. Don’t defy me ever.”

“But you broke the laws.” I tread on thin ice. “By bringing me down here. I’m not a criminal and no ash was sprinkled into the lake.”

“With you, there’s a stipulation that allows my faeries to bring you down here without breaking the laws.” She overlaps her thin fingers and places her hands on her lap. “There’s a term for people like you.”

“A Protected One,” I say. “I don’t know what that means.”

Her eyes snap cold. “Qui redit a mortem. The one who returns from the dead.”

“I think you’re thinking of a zombie.” I point at the flesh on my arm. “My skin’s not rotting. I don’t have any urge to eat someone. I’m pretty sure I’m not one.”

“That’s the Undead.” Her tone’s like a blizzard. “I can assure you Gemma, there are no such things as zombies. What I speak of is someone who dies but revives. One who returns from death and goes on living. One who’s been in The Afterlife, but has returned.”

I wonder how bad it is that I’ve done that twice. “Then why did your faerie say I was one of the Protected. How can I be protected if you brought me down here?”

“Because you’re protected from death, not from me.”

“That’s always been the case,” I say. “I can’t die without Alex.”

She laughs uncontrollably. “You really think that’s the case still.”

“I… why wouldn’t it be?”

“You two died, and so did the star. There is nothing protecting you from death now. You had your one out and now it’s gone. Well, for your other half anyway. But you—you can die over and over again.”

I’m struck speechless. “I’m not immortal. I don’t bare the mark.”

“I’m not talking about Immortality!” she shouts, then composes herself. “I’m talking about something bigger. You are now protected from death, from possession of death and Lost Souls. You can travel between the world of the dead and of the living. All you have to do is die.”

“I’m not immortal,” I repeat, shaking my head. “I can die. I know I can.”

The Queen curls her fingers over the arm rests. “I get it. You need proof.” Before I protest, she raises her chin and a white blur zips inside the room. A Water Faerie strangles my throat, burrowing its skeletal fingers into my neck. My bones splinter under its strength. My head wobbles like a bobble head. I slump from the chair to the floor. My heart hushes as I gasp my last breath.

***

“Gemma Lucas, what are you doing?” A familiar laugh perks my ears. “Open your eyes. You need to see me for this.”

I obey. Grass indents my cheeks and fresh dirt scents the air. A single rose petal drifts, the powdery edge grazing my nose. The twisted roots of a willow tree are half hidden by the ground. I roll to my back. Long branches of the willow tree dance above.

“Hello Gemma.” My mother’s blue eyes fill me with love. Pieces of her long, brown hair falls into her face as she helps me to my feet. Her floral dress bunches on the ground and her feet are bare. She dusts the dirt out of my hair and embraces me in a tight hug. “I’ve missed you so much.”

I shut my eyes, breathing back the tears, and wrap my trembling arms around her. “I’ve missed you to.” I pull back and look her in the eyes. “But why am I here?”

“You’re not technically here,” she tells me. “You’re here in a dream.”

“But it feels so real.”

“So do all of your dreams.”

White and red rose petals flow from the garden, winding and curving freely in the air.

“Why am I not dead?” I ask. “The Water Faerie broke my neck.”

“For the same reason you’re alive.” She gives my hand a squeeze. “Because it’s your destiny. You have a free pass now to and from death. Helena can’t touch your soul unless you offer it to her.”