Read Online The Soul Thief by Leah Cutter - Free Book Online Page A

moment before nodding and saying, “All right. I’ll stop the process, scoot her back beyond. But I’m going to need something for my efforts.”
    That right there stopped Franklin cold. “What?” he asked, though he had an idea.
    “That blade you carry so thoughtlessly in your pocket,” the man said.
    Greed filled the man’s beady eyes.
    Franklin did not want to give this man the knife. It was a dangerous thing. Not evil, but not good.
    What would this man…this magician …do with such a powerful tool?
    “Make up your mind,” the man warned. “I can only hold her like this for so long. Then she slips into awareness, comes back to this plane.”
    Mama didn’t have enough of herself to throw an effective glare at the man.
    But Franklin didn’t have to hear her actually howl to know what she would sound like, how awful it would be. It would tear him to pieces. While he might miss her something fierce, it wouldn’t be the same.
    Mama might not be happy with Franklin for handing over the blade to this man, but she’d never forgive him for allowing her to be brought back, her will not her own.
    Franklin slowly unzipped the pocket on his thigh where the blade had been resting, heavy and cold. It didn’t seem repelled by the man, though Franklin was equally sure the blade kinda liked where it was, being held by Franklin.
    Could Franklin just throw it at the man? Would it cut him? Or would it just go gliding into his hand, as if it were made to be there?
    What the hell was this blade? What kind of spirits made up its essence? Why was it giving Franklin all these thoughts and feelings?
    The doctor seemed to know—he knew all kinds of things about the knife, Franklin would bet. Probably had been studying it for some time.
    The man gestured for Franklin to come closer. Franklin didn’t want to go. Damn it, he hated being bullied.
    But Mama didn’t have a lot of time, or she’d be stuck here, howling like the other spirits.
    Franklin took two shuffling steps forward. Again, he hesitated. He couldn’t run—the mists held him too tightly for him to do much than just shuffle along. Turning the blade on himself didn’t make no sense either: he’d just end up dying and the doctor would take the knife anyway.
    With a suffering sigh, Franklin raised his arm and reached over the table where Mama still lay, her glare losing more power as her will dribbled away, handing this dangerous, far too aware blade over to a madman.
    “You did the right thing, son,” the man said solemnly. “You’ll see. Everyone in the whole world will see. You’ll be sung of as a hero. Just as the knife will be praised for playing its part.”
    Was this guy drunk or something? What was he talking about?
    “The world will be a much better place. You mark my words,” the doctor said, running his fingers carefully along the blade of the knife, turning it to see all three prongs.
    Mama started fading immediately, her eyes losing their haunted stare and going back to normal. She shook her head at Franklin, disapproving of what he’d just done.
    Franklin hoped she’d understand some as well.
    “Goodbye, Mama,” Franklin said softly.
    When Franklin looked back up, the man was already on his side of the table. He smelled of sour sweat and burnt sage, like what Lexine had used when calming her spirits.
    “You’ve got your phone with you?” the man inquired.
    Franklin told the man, “No,” though he still had it in his other hand.
    “I can see it right there,” the man said. “Good.”
    He moved faster than Franklin had anticipated, as fast as the vines he’d fought earlier.
    Just as suddenly, the knife was in Franklin’s side. The blade seared cold into Franklin’s body. He stumbled against the table, the pain in his side making the room waver.
    “Why’d you do that for?” Franklin asked.
    “Call 911,” the man instructed. “They have a response time of nine-point-two minutes in this county.”
    Franklin reached for his phone