Read Online The Lost Soul (Fallen Soul Series, Book 1) by Jessica Sorensen - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jessica Sorensen
Ads: Link
him.
“See, point proven,” he whispers in my ear, his lips brushing my skin. “You can’t take me. You’re helpless.”
I kick him in the shin. He buckles over, moaning. My fingers fumble to retrieve the marble from my pocket. Just as I grasp it, he rams into me. We fall to the floor. Alex braces my head from slamming against the stone floor, a glimmer of hope that he still exists somewhere inside.
He lines his body over mine. “See, I told you I knew how this was going to end.”
My fingers grasp the marble. “I’m so sorry.”
His face contorts. “Sorry for what?”
I shove the marble into his ear. It sounds like a pinball machine as the marble rolls down his ear canal.
He swats his hand at his ear, like there’s a bug in it. “What’d you do to me? Gemma, what was that?” His head quivers erratically. “Gemma… please…”
I scoot from under him. He blinks furiously. I hug my legs to my chest as his hands and legs go limp. His eyes recede into the back of his head and his body crumples to the floor. I inch toward him, smooth his sweaty hair back, and check his neck for a pulse. His heart beats a consistent rhythm.
“Sorry,” I whisper. Then I heist the crystal halves and leave him alone in the room. I race to the library, a small room stacked with disordered bookshelves. A checkered rug spreads underneath two leather recliners that border a slim table. Aislin sits in one chair, her feet kicked up on another. The book containing the history of The Afterlife rests in her lap and she studies the pages.
“I had to use the marble,” I declare, taking a seat on the table.
She lowers her feet to the floor and sits up straight. “Already? Jeez, that was a lot quicker than I guessed.”
“He challenged me to a fight,” I say. “Winner takes these.” I hold up the two portions of the crystal ball. “He gave me no choice, really. But I still feel like a complete jerk. He’s passed out on the floor.”
“Just remember he’s not himself. In fact, if you start picturing him a lot like this, you’ll feel much better.” She raises the book and taps her finger on pictured of a man with a hole in his chest. Wisps of smoke follow the feet of a mummified corpse flying headfirst into the hole.
“I’m not sure if that helps.” Flabbergasted, I take the book and gape at the drawing. “How did I not see this happen?”
“Well, you said he felt the cut after you guys left that freaky windstorm,” she says. “So I’m guessing one followed you back and took over his body while he was alone.”
I run my finger along the hideous picture. “Does it happen to mention how a Lost Soul could get up to the Human World?”
She frowns and recaptures the book. “No, that’s what doesn’t make sense. It says here that they’ve been banished for hundreds of years and there are no reports of any returning.”
“But that book’s old,” I point out. “So maybe there have been, but they haven’t been reported in that book.
Aislin drums her fingers against her chin, pondering. “What we need is someone who understands The Afterlife… someone who understands death and the rules.”
I pull a face. “I think I know someone, but getting their help is going to be like pulling teeth.”
She sets the book on the table. “Who?”
“A certain faerie/foreseer that's been dead and has a connection because of his faerie blood. The Queen of The Afterlife is a Banshee, which is a type of faerie. Although, Nicholas insists all breeds of faerie hate him because he’s only half fey.”
“Yet, he’s helping Luna,” she notes. “So maybe he’s exaggerating a little.”
I laugh sarcastically. “Nicholas exaggerate? Never.”
She laughs with me. Then we shake our heads and sigh, wiping tears from our eyes.
“So what do you think?” She picks up her neon pink purse off the table. “Should we go torture him for information?”
“Might as well,” I say. “I have to get his help to use the Crystal
“See, point proven,” he whispers in my ear, his lips brushing my skin. “You can’t take me. You’re helpless.”
I kick him in the shin. He buckles over, moaning. My fingers fumble to retrieve the marble from my pocket. Just as I grasp it, he rams into me. We fall to the floor. Alex braces my head from slamming against the stone floor, a glimmer of hope that he still exists somewhere inside.
He lines his body over mine. “See, I told you I knew how this was going to end.”
My fingers grasp the marble. “I’m so sorry.”
His face contorts. “Sorry for what?”
I shove the marble into his ear. It sounds like a pinball machine as the marble rolls down his ear canal.
He swats his hand at his ear, like there’s a bug in it. “What’d you do to me? Gemma, what was that?” His head quivers erratically. “Gemma… please…”
I scoot from under him. He blinks furiously. I hug my legs to my chest as his hands and legs go limp. His eyes recede into the back of his head and his body crumples to the floor. I inch toward him, smooth his sweaty hair back, and check his neck for a pulse. His heart beats a consistent rhythm.
“Sorry,” I whisper. Then I heist the crystal halves and leave him alone in the room. I race to the library, a small room stacked with disordered bookshelves. A checkered rug spreads underneath two leather recliners that border a slim table. Aislin sits in one chair, her feet kicked up on another. The book containing the history of The Afterlife rests in her lap and she studies the pages.
“I had to use the marble,” I declare, taking a seat on the table.
She lowers her feet to the floor and sits up straight. “Already? Jeez, that was a lot quicker than I guessed.”
“He challenged me to a fight,” I say. “Winner takes these.” I hold up the two portions of the crystal ball. “He gave me no choice, really. But I still feel like a complete jerk. He’s passed out on the floor.”
“Just remember he’s not himself. In fact, if you start picturing him a lot like this, you’ll feel much better.” She raises the book and taps her finger on pictured of a man with a hole in his chest. Wisps of smoke follow the feet of a mummified corpse flying headfirst into the hole.
“I’m not sure if that helps.” Flabbergasted, I take the book and gape at the drawing. “How did I not see this happen?”
“Well, you said he felt the cut after you guys left that freaky windstorm,” she says. “So I’m guessing one followed you back and took over his body while he was alone.”
I run my finger along the hideous picture. “Does it happen to mention how a Lost Soul could get up to the Human World?”
She frowns and recaptures the book. “No, that’s what doesn’t make sense. It says here that they’ve been banished for hundreds of years and there are no reports of any returning.”
“But that book’s old,” I point out. “So maybe there have been, but they haven’t been reported in that book.
Aislin drums her fingers against her chin, pondering. “What we need is someone who understands The Afterlife… someone who understands death and the rules.”
I pull a face. “I think I know someone, but getting their help is going to be like pulling teeth.”
She sets the book on the table. “Who?”
“A certain faerie/foreseer that's been dead and has a connection because of his faerie blood. The Queen of The Afterlife is a Banshee, which is a type of faerie. Although, Nicholas insists all breeds of faerie hate him because he’s only half fey.”
“Yet, he’s helping Luna,” she notes. “So maybe he’s exaggerating a little.”
I laugh sarcastically. “Nicholas exaggerate? Never.”
She laughs with me. Then we shake our heads and sigh, wiping tears from our eyes.
“So what do you think?” She picks up her neon pink purse off the table. “Should we go torture him for information?”
“Might as well,” I say. “I have to get his help to use the Crystal
Similar Books
