Page 10 of A Soul’s Curse (Fallen Souls #1)

I awoke beneath a layer of buttery soft sheets, my body molded into the soft mattress underneath me. Sunlight streamed in through the window to my right, casting a muted orange glow as it filtered through the sheer curtains and basked the room in a comforting warmth.

I died, I thought to myself. Well, at least I made it to heaven. The beds here are nice.

But I knew that was a lie because, even though the luxurious softness of the pillow supporting my head was a delicate cocoon of comfort, it didn’t stop the pounding of my brain splitting my skull in two.

“There’s a trash can to your right.” That voice … I didn’t recognize it, but it sent a touch of calming warmth through me.

Before I could figure out who it came from, nausea surged in my stomach. I rolled onto my side as everything left inside me came rushing back up and out. Giving myself a moment to ensure it was safe to abandon the garbage bin, I sighed and fell back into the comfort of the inviting bed.

“There’s water on the nightstand. Take the pills. They’ll help with the headache.”

Curious, I glanced to my left where there was a man casually sitting on a wooden chair.

He was dressed completely in black—from his baggy jeans to his oversized hoodie.

His heavy boot rested against the desk beside him, tilting the chair back at a precarious angle.

Even though the room wasn’t dark, a hood obscured his face in shadows.

Magic, probably, concealing his identity.

Any normal person would have been skeptical of this whole situation.

I mean, I was attacked by some evil organization I’d never heard of, released some powerful, mysterious being onto the streets of Salem, and nearly died while doing it.

Yet it wasn’t terror that consumed me, but a sense of safety.

In the end, I figured if this stranger was going to kill me, he would have done it already.

I blinked a few times, wishing it didn’t hurt so much as I did, then reached over to grab the sealed plastic bottle of water and aspirin beside it.

I took a swig of water, but just as I was about to toss the pills into my mouth, Ellie’s frightened face flashed before me and my eyes widened with fear and panic.

“Ellie!” I cried out, my voice dry and scratchy.

“Theo! I’m glad you’re okay.” Ellie stood in a corner of the bedroom. But it wasn’t quite Ellie—it was her magical essence taking the form of herself. Her ghost.

“Don’t worry,” she said, although her fingers pressed hard into her temples.

“I’m not dead. Not yet. Leon, he … tried to sever my magic from my body with that knife.

But when I touched it, I triggered a memory and stopped him halfway.

” She paused, trembling as her voice cracked.

“But Theo, it hurts . My magic’s been split in two—just enough left in my body to keep it breathing, but not enough here to hold me together.

I feel like it’s splintering, pulling at me and tearing me apart in every direction. And I don’t know how long I can last.”

My heart went out to her. I couldn’t even imagine how terrified she must be, like she was trapped between life and death. The fear in her voice clung to me like smoke, and I hated how powerless I felt just sitting here and watching her fall apart.

“I’m gonna fix this, Ellie. I promise.” It was a promise I couldn’t guarantee I could keep, but I was sure as hell going to try.

A subtle cough dragged my attention away from the frightened ghost, reminding me that there was still a strange man watching me and that I had been sleeping in an unfamiliar bed, in a bedroom that certainly wasn’t my own.

“He’s … okay, I think,” Ellie’s voice was strained. “He can hear me—sometimes, anyway—but can’t seem to see me. He was the one who brought you here after you passed out. I think … I think you can trust him.”

“You should listen to your friend. I won’t hurt you … unless you force me to, anyway.” My gaze settled on the shadow of a man by the desk.

“And who the hell are you, exactly?” I asked, uncertainty flavoring my words.

I coughed, my fingers pressing against my charred t-shirt and for the first time, noticing the large number of gauze pads taped to the giant burn across my torso.

“Why were you at the museum last night? And why am I here now?”

“Who I am and what I’m doing is the least of your concerns.” He drummed his fingers on the wooden desk, drawing my attention to a switchblade right within reach.

“Great.” I sighed, rolling my eyes. “Of course I just had to go and be rescued by an ominous asshole who thinks he’s being all badass by giving me cryptic, completely useless answers to my questions.”

“Well, this asshole can easily throw you back to the Syndicate if that’s what you prefer.”

“Then if you’re not going to tell me your name, can you tell me who the Syndicate is? Why were they after the demon trapped inside that urn … and apparently me? What the fuck did I ever do to piss them off? I have no idea who they even are.”

He grunted, and while he contemplated his answer, I took in the surrounding room.

It was furnished, but bare. Across from me was a plain wooden dresser, a small television on top of it.

It matched the oak desk my mysterious savior was occupying as well as the two nightstands on either side of me.

A patterned rug covered the wood floor under the plush bed I was lying in, and there was the rhythmic buzz of a ceiling fan above me as it spun in slow, steady circles.

“Theo …” Ellie’s ghost wandered over. “I need to go check on my family just in case those crazy Syndicate bastards decide to go after them. I’ll find you later at your place?”

I nodded, and she walked right through the wall as she vanished out into the morning sunlight.

Again, the man changed the subject. “You know, most people would be screaming at the top of their lungs and threatening to jump out the window after being attacked and kidnapped only to wake up in a strange bed.” I imagined a smirk under that hood. “You’re a strange man, Theodore Kingston.”

“How does everyone know my name?” I muttered more to myself than to him. Did Ellie tell him? If he did show up at some point last night, he may have heard it from one of the Syndicate members. Maybe he was a part of the Syndicate, trying to trick me into trusting him.

“You know, my sister always told me I was too trusting of people and that my kindness would get me killed.” I chuckled, popping the pills into my mouth and washing them down with water.

“I don’t know what happened after I passed out, but I’m guessing you were chasing after the Syndicate, found my unconscious body and dragged me back here to treat my wounds.

You didn’t chain me to the bed, so I’m not your prisoner.

You had ample opportunity to kill me, but I’m still very much alive.

So today is not the day I’m going to die, now is it?

Which means you can quit the whole brooding punk-ass getup and pull down that hood.

I’m usually a nice guy, but after the night I had I’m not really in the mood to play games.

I’m obviously not going to hurt you or scream or anything. ”

He didn’t pull down the hood, but he did lean forward, removing his boot from the desk and stomping it on the floor as he did. “Hurt me ? I’d like to see you try.”

He snorted, crossing his arms over his chest. It was difficult to see against the black fabric covering his body, and also because it seemed like he was trying to hide it, but the sleeve of his hoodie was ripped.

And there was … so much blood soaked into a completely saturated rag tied around his bicep.

“Holy shit, you’re injured!” I flung the covers off and swung my legs over the side of the bed. Other than my sneakers being removed, I was wearing the same mangled jacket, t-shirt, and jeans I had been wearing last night.

“I wouldn’t get up if I were you.”

Ignoring his warning, I planted my feet on the floor and pushed myself up … only to learn my strength hadn’t yet completely returned as I tumbled onto the ground. Pain flared from every nerve ending in my body.

He didn’t move to help me. “I warned you.”

Exhaling a heavy breath, I placed a hand over my chest and let my magic flow into me.

“What are you doing?” His hand slowly reached for his knife. His face might have been completely cloaked by the hood, but his hands weren’t, and a flash of dark red skin filled my vision. Was this man … a demon?

“Relax. It’s the venom from Archie’s snake.

I removed a lot of it before I passed out, but I don’t think you got the rest of it.

I’m trying to neutralize any lingering side effects with my magic.

” As my magic fed off the toxic substance, my limbs lightened, the nausea subsiding.

“These burns also, well, kinda still feel like they’re on fire.

I’m doing a quick pass to start the healing process. ”

“Venom?” His spine straightened. “That … I … shoved an antibiotic down your throat because of the burns, but I didn’t see a snake bite on you.” He humphed, seeming a bit disappointed in himself for missing the dangerous toxin.

“Oh. Well, that’s okay. How would you have known?

It didn’t even leave behind fang marks.” I smiled at him as I rubbed my neck where there was nothing but smooth skin.

I could almost picture him rolling his eyes at me from under the hood.

“So, can I repay your generosity by helping to patch up that big boo boo on your arm, Mr. Dark and Brooding Mysterious Asshole Demon?”

“Demon? I—” He went into complete defensive mode, turning away and using his hand to hide the wound on his arm. “I don’t let strangers touch me, let alone treat my injuries. I’m fine, anyway. Since I’m a demon, it barely hurts and it’ll heal quickly.”