8

Soul-Sight

XAVIER

“Is this him…?” a woman’s voice whispered. “The Shadow…?”

I barely heard her over the screaming storm. The yellow-eyed man’s boney fingers squeezed my throat as he extended me over the cliff, rain spattering in the gale. Willow lay on the rocks at his feet, silent as a corpse. If she hadn’t spoken just now, who had…?

“It is half of him,” a man murmured. “The one that was lost.”

“Then we’ve found him?” the woman asked. “We may begin?”

The voices came from above. I craned my gaze, blinking the rain from my lashes. Three silhouettes peered over the cliff, looking down at me. One was a lion-eared woman, hiding behind a blond man, his amber eyes glinting when a flash erupted from the storm.

“No,” said the man, hushed. “Something is not right.”

“Yes, something is wrong,” a fox-eared woman beside them agreed. “Perhaps we must consult Dream. More observation may be needed… Dream will decide if it is time.”

Who were they—?

My killer crushed my windpipe, and black veins spewed from his hands. His fingers loosened from my neck, and the world drifted into darkness.

I jolted in my seat, scrambling to grab the cliff.

My fingers touched nothing.

Another Bloody dream, I realized with relief. And annoyance. That memory is coming more frequently. I wonder, is it because I’m close to finding my body?

But who were those… other people, from the dream? Their faces were slipping from memory, but I could have sworn there were others on the cliff this time. That had never happened before. Perhaps it was a creation of my subconscious?

I turned my gaze to the compartment’s window and saw the sky outside was still dark with twinkling, stationary lights. What were those called again? ‘Stars’?

The scenery outside zipped by smoothly, our private compartment rocking softly in a quiet hum. The ride was so gentle, even our company’s black birds were asleep on the luggage shelves above us, their heads tucked in their wings, undisturbed. The loudest noise came from Jaq’s snoring beside me, his face scrunched against the wall as he drooled over the polished wood.

“You okay, Alex?” Octavius asked from the seat across from me. It seemed he’d been awake for some time.

He was leaned back in the leather seat with his legs crossed, and he held a circular discus I recognized as a communicator. From the large gem in the center of the device, around many buttons and turning gears, a beam of light projected in the air to make a flattened screen of translucent light. The communicator’s display gave Octavius’s face a bluish glow.

I almost questioned why he’d called me ‘Alex’ when I remembered and shut my mouth. He doesn’t know of me. Instead, I gave a tired sigh and rubbed my eyes. “I’m fine.”

“You were talking in your sleep,” he said. “And you had a random spike of adrenaline. Was it a nightmare?”

I gave him a skeptical look. “Something like that… how did you know my adren—”

“A guess,” he answered quickly. Perhaps too quickly. He gave a small cough. “I, um, saw you were thrashing around a lot, so…” He dropped his gaze to his com-screen and changed subject. “s-so, um… about this Reaper thing, and messengers choosing you and whatever… What I can’t figure out is why I was chosen?”

I hummed. “To be frank, no one’s entirely sure if there’s one specific reason. But among those the messengers follow, all tend to have at least one trait in common.”

“What trait?”

My head cocked. “We strive to protect others, more or less. Whether souls are deceased or still living, we’re the first to come to their aid when needed. Your raven sensed this trait about you; it’s a great honor to be chosen. It’s not something to waste, as you’ve done by waiting so long to find a master.”

“O-oh… sorry…” He rubbed his neck, flushing.

I chuckled. “Don’t be. It isn’t your fault you didn’t know. Perhaps it’s only common knowledge in…” A glare caught my eye from the window. My gaze shifted to the scenery outside. “Nira!” I flew out of my seat, horrified as I pressed my face to the glass. “What’s happened to the Sky realm?!”

Octavius followed my gaze but couldn’t seem to find anything strange. “What?”

“The ‘sky’!” I shouted, waving frantically at the window. “It-it changed! It was just black, but now it’s… it’s red! Is it burning or… Death, something must have happened to the Sky realm! One of the islands must have exploded—just there! That red ball!”

He snorted a laugh.

“I see nothing funny about this!” I hurried to shake Jaq awake. “Jaq! Jaq, wake up you damned idiot, we have to get out of here!”

Jaq fumbled awake, hurrying to his feet. He saw the bleeding sky outside, cursing while we argued about what to do. We could jump off the train and find shelter. But would that be safe? What if the explosion expanded out to us? Maybe the caves of Grim would be better protection—

Octavius laughed harder. He clutched his stomach, as if to keep his insides from bursting. It took him some time to recover before he could wheeze. “Holy Land, calm down! Bloody tourists. Is this not in that pamphlet of yours?”

I snapped my fingers. “Ah, yes! The pamphlet!” I hurried to retrieve it, flipping through pages with shaking hands. “That’s right, this could be some terrifying, common occurrence in this realm! Which means they must have a standard safety procedure for us to follow… Where is it…”

“You’ve never been on the surface before, have you?” he asked with a smirk.

I hesitated. “Well… no.” Technically, I had been on the surface once before, years ago, but that was during a storm. This was different. There were no clouds in sight, here.

Octavius’s chuckles exacerbated at our panicked faces. “That’s normal, all right? We’re not going to die or anything. It’s called ‘sun rise’.”

We stared at him. Jaq stabbed a finger at the glowing, red ball of fire. “That’s the ‘sun’?”

“But why is it red?” I demanded. “Our textbooks have only shown a yellow sun. And your sky is supposed to be blue.”

He shrugged. “It changes throughout the day. Trust me, it’s normal. The Sky realm is fine, nothing is burning.”

Jaq and I shifted our gazes back to the window, still wary.

“Wait a minute…” Octavius muttered. He stared at me with slitted lids. “Alex, weren’t your eyes the other way yesterday?”

My worry over the sky dissolved. “Sorry?”

“Your eyes.” He squinted harder. “I thought the blue one was…” He shook his head. “Never mind… Weird, I guess I forgot.”

Jaq and I exchanged a glance. Then I asked Octavius, “you, er, don’t happen to be a Necrovoker, do you?”

“No,” he said. “Why?”

I blew out a breath. “Thank Bloods… I mean—er, just curious. I thought for a moment you could see souls.”

Octavius rubbed his fingers nervously. “I, um… I can, actually.”

I jumped. “What?”

“I have soul-sight.” He looked uneasy. “But I’m not a Necrovoker.”

“That’s not possible,” I protested. “You’re not wearing an enchanted mask.”

He looked at Jaq pointedly. “Neither is he.”

Jaq slipped off his glasses to showcase them. “Don’t need to. My glasses have the right Evocation sealed in them.”

“No one can naturally see ghosts unless they evoke death Hallows,” I finished.

Octavius glanced away. “Well, I can see them.”

I lifted my right hand, palm turned toward my face. “Do you see anything here?”

He peered at the hand with confusion. “Uh. A hand? What about it?”

“The mark. Can you see it?”

“You mean that mark?” Octavius pointed to the back of my left hand instead. “The tattoo of Nirus’s Crest? That’s on your other hand. What, did you forget which one you had it inked on?”

Jaq and I shared perplexed glances.

Even when I was in control, those who weren’t dead or a Necrovoker could only see Alexander’s mark, on his right hand. That went for our mirrored eyes, also. He shouldn’t see me at all.

“It’s not a tattoo,” I corrected, suspicious now. “It’s my Evocator’s birthmark.”

Octavius leaned closer to better see my left hand, his eyes wide with interest. “Woah, really? But all the kingdoms have their own mark. That doesn’t belong to one.”

“I know,” I murmured, grimacing. “Believe you me, my parents were just as confused. They upturned every book they could find on abnormal Evocators throughout history and still came up empty.”

“I thought you were a Necrovoker? Shouldn’t you have a Death mark?”

“I do.” My tone was still suspicious, though I tried to mask it with a hum. “Half the time, anyway. It only appears when I evoke my Hallows. And technically speaking, I’m half a Necrovoker.”

“What does that mean?”

I paused, remembering I was pretending to be my brother. “Necrovokers have two halves of the death element. There’s the Hallows of deceased vessels, and the Hallows of souls. I can only control vessels, but I have no power over souls.”

That was the reverse of the truth. I was the twin with the soul half, Alexander controlled the vessels. In other words: he resurrected the corpse, and I tied the soul inside.

Octavius only looked more befuddled. “Wait. If you can control dead vessels, why didn’t you just take control of the Necrofera when they were attacking us? Wouldn’t that have been easier?”

“If it were possible, I suppose it would have been,” I said. “Necrovokers can’t affect the Fera that way. Since they’re a merging of their rotten souls and vessels, the Hallows doesn’t work. Not effectively, anyway. It’s sloppy at best, and controlling a rotten soul is like trying to grab soap with oily hands.”

“Er, okay… but I’ve never heard of a halved Evocator anyway. Does that happen a lot where you’re from?”

“Well… no. From what we’ve researched over the years, I don’t think it’s ever happened anywhere. There’s no documentation of Hallows splitting.”

He laughed. “And you looked at me like I was the weird one?”

I scratched behind an ear, seeing the irony. I decided a subject change was in order. “You’re certain you aren’t a Necrovoker?”

“Super certain.” He crossed his arms. “I think I would have known something like that by now. That Hallows isn’t anywhere in our family history. We have fire and healing and… uh…” He glanced away. “Well, Neal is Hallowless. And-and so am I.”

“Do any of your siblings have soul-sight?”

“Just me.”

“And you’re not dead, are you?”

He gave a flat stare. “Do I look dead to you?”

“You’d be surprised how difficult it is to tell. You could be a Necrovoker’s vassal.”

“A what?” He asked, bemused.

“A vassal.” I knuckled my brow as I explained. “See, you could be a dead soul tied to your old corpse that has been resurrected and brought back to life for a time. It’s something we can do. We see a lot of different ghosts and vassals in Grim. All of my family’s servants are vassals, for instance, since we can’t hire any living shifters who aren’t scared Deathless of us.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “You have servants?”

My teeth clicked shut.

It was his turn to be suspicious now. “Wait a minute. Are you a nobleman?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” I tried to act offended. “If I were a noble, would I be wearing trousers with holes in the knees?”

“You wouldn’t be calling them trousers, for one thing,” he muttered.

“Well I… I have a unique choice of vocabulary.”

“Which sounds even more aristocratic with the Grimish accent.” He chuckled. “And not to mention the servants—”

“That’s not important! Kmm-hmm! Now…! You’re sure you’re not a vassal?”

“Bloods, I’m alive, all right? So I can see souls, it’s not a big deal.”

I sat down, deflating as I snorted and glanced out the window. “I beg to differ…”

Against the red sky, a cityscape appeared in the distance, like silhouettes of flat-tipped fingers reaching over the horizon hungrily.

“Ah, brilliant!” I clapped my hands. “We’re nearly there. You’re sure this Rochelle woman will know where your mother is?”

Seeming glad to be on a different topic, he nodded. “If anyone would know, it’d be Rochelle. Mom would always visit her when she was alive. If she came up here and didn’t come home, I’d bet she went to Rochelle.”

“Splendid.” I rose and zipped up my jacket, the tag snagging at the semi-melted tooth—which had been our parting gift from Octavius’s short tempered, fire-spewing sister. I glowered, sighing. “Hopefully, this will only take a day or two and we can get in, get out and be on our way before anyone notices we’re up here.”

He frowned at me. “Why don’t you want anyone knowing you’re up here?”

“It, er…” I cleared my throat and threw open the compartment door in a nervous laugh. “Ahem, e-excuse me, I need the lavatory!”

I hurried out, leaving him and his incessant questions behind.