Soul Fire
The Soul Trilogy #1
Soul Fire
Second Edition
Copyright © Aprille Legacy
The moral right of the author has been asserted
ISBN 13: 9781492709589
ISBN: 1492709581
Front cover image by Moosified Images Cover design by E.J Duykers, R.A Dutton and L.C Ellis T his is a work offiction.Allcharacters are fictitious. Any resemblance toanypersons livingor deceased is coincidental.
For those who wouldn’t let me give up and drove this dream. For all the Goodreaders who read and liked this
work online before I’d ever thought of publishing.
For my mother, who always read a book in my presence and taught me how to make a cup of tea.
For the friends who’ve stuck by me through thick and thin, because there are ups and downs in every friendship. For anyone who dares to dream.
~Chapter One~
“Rose!” My eyes snapped open at the exact moment my chin slipped off of my hand. I caught myself from slamming into the desk, just in time to hear Mr Burgess sigh loudly. “Again, Rose? Do I need to talk to your mother?”
All of the other students sniggered at me as I scowled. “No, sir,” I said quickly. Sleeping in class was my mother’s idea of committing a crime.
Mr Burgess turned to the board, droning about something I was supposed to be paying attention to. I yawned, bored already.
In my hometown of Ar Cena, nothing was out of the ordinary. Nestled in-between two hills, in a tiny, spring fed valley, the biggest thing to happen was the annual agricultural festival.
“I need that assignment handed up as well,” Mr Burgess levelled a gaze at me that I pointedly avoided. “It was due two weeks ago.”
“Sorry, I was in the city.” I replied lamely, staring out the window again. He let the non-excuse go, though he sighed as he turned back to the front of the class.
I had in fact been at the river again, watching the birds glide in the sky and wishing that I could join them. Wanting to soar as one of them, knowing that I wasn’t going to be stuck here in this town forever. To know that one day I would be different… that I would be free.
I dragged myself from class to class, the other students ignoring me. I longed for the bell that would signal the end of this hellish prison sentence, so that I might make it back to my car and drive towards the river, catching a few moments of peace with my book and to breathe in the fresh valley air and the silence that came with it.
By the time I reached my final class of the day, I was more than ready to go. I sat next to the window that was permanently open, feeling the breeze on my face, knowing that my sentence would soon be served.
I propped my feet up on the chair next to me, feeling so comfortable that I was in danger of snoozing again. My eyes raked the tree line, searching for something, anything, to break the monotony of everyday school life.
It was then I noticed him watching me.
A man stood just behind the line of trees. He leant easily against one of the trunks, dark hair falling into his eyes. I shivered as his gaze fell on me and our eyes met.
The bell rang and I turned instinctively towards the door. By the time I looked back, the man was gone and my mind had already given him up as a figment of my imagination.
I grabbed my bag and fled for the doorway, out of my seat before anyone else was. Everyone ignored the teacher’s feeble bleats for everyone to stay seated, his voice lost in the gabble of twenty teenagers at the end of a school day.
Once in the parking lot I headed for my car, and it was as I neared my little white Hyundai that I noticed the school jerks eyeing me off on the path; something about their shifty eyes and muffled giggles gave them away. In my peripheral vision I noticed someone seated in the car in the lot behind mine and sighed. I would have to wait for them to reverse and that would mean waiting for someone – a student driver at that - to do a thousandpoint turn.
It was only as I unlocked the driver’s door and slid into my seat that I realised the other driver would have had plenty of time to move. It was only after I had turned on the ignition and started reversing that the car behind me did the same. I suddenly realised the intent of their ‘prank’.
Honestly, this was the extent of their intelligence.
I wound down the window.
“Seriously?” I asked them incredulously.
They burst into fits of laughter. I rolled my eyes but I could feel my temper beginning to prickle. I grit my teeth, and stamped on the accelerator. My car shot backwards, the car behind me mimicking me, forcing me to stop. I still didn’t have enough room to do a three point turn, so I was trapped.
The prickle increased to an itch. I felt my foot press down again and this time I had no intention of braking. I watched in the rear-view mirror as the driver of the car opposite realised what I planned to do, his eyes widening a second before the impact. My car hit his, shattering both of our brake lights and giving him well earned whiplash. I saw his frightened eyes glance into his mirror, straight into mine, and I couldn’t resist giving him a smile and thumbs up. I spun the wheel and drove out of the parking lot, leaving a damaged car and boys with damaged egos behind me.
~ I swung the door of my house open, my car parked haphazardly behind me in the drive. I’d been in such a bad mood on the drive home that I’d decided not to go to the river at all.
“Rose?” I heard my mother call. I ignored her, pounding up the stairs to the roof; once I was there I was free. She wouldn’t follow me up, and I was in no mood for probing questions tonight.
“Don’t ignore me, Rose.”
She must’ve glanced out of the window then, at my car. “Rose! What the hell happened to your car?”
I ignored this too, though shame clenched my stomach
tight. I shared many things with my mother; intense green eyes, long brown hair, a house and exactly the same amount of patience; none. This resulted in us locking horns frequently, but more often with other members of the town.
I reached my room, the attic of the house. I had thrown the windows wide this morning so fresh air cleansed the room, carrying with it the sweet scent of summer. I dumped my bag on the floor and ran towards the open window. I jumped onto the sill and slid onto the ledge, reaching up to grab the destroyed gutter hanging limply from the roof, prayed it wouldn’t dump me onto the ground two storeys below and pulled myself onto the shingles. The roof didn’t slope as steeply as other houses, so I was able to lie on my back and watch the sky. I basked in the afternoon rays of the sun, the tension of the day melting away. I was home.
~ I woke with a start, sitting bolt upright. I was still on the roof, but I wasn’t worried; this happened more often than one might think. The warm summer air combined with the surprisingly comfortable roof tiles usually lulled me to sleep.
I drew my knees to my chest, hugging them in tight. In the distance I could hear traffic, which usually meant it was about six in the morning. Instead of the spectacular hues of orange and pink the sun normally displayed at sunset, grey light was slowly spilling over the township. It was almost as if the sun was saying ‘well, no one is going to be awake to watch it anyway. Surely I can get away with not putting on a light show this morning.’
“I feel you.” I told the sun, lying back down on the dew covered roof and throwing my arm over my eyes. To anyone watching (as absurd as sleeping on a roof may be), it would look as though I didn’t have a care in the world.
But past my old cubby house in the backyard, and over the rapidly deteriorating fence, I knew I had seen him again.
The same man from yesterday, standing just within the trees as though hiding.
I sat up again, slowly inching down the shingles and back into my room.
This time I closed the window firmly and latched it for the first time in ages. I wasn’t happy about him observing me from a distance so there was no way I was coming back from school and finding him in my closet or something.
I checked my clock – 6:54am. Great. I had about an hour before school, which meant there was no way I was going to get that assignment done for Burgess. As it was, I only had time to have a quick shower and stuff a piece of toast into my mouth as I climbed into my car.
Driving to school was rather terrifying. I had forgotten about the broken tail lights which were now rendering my car defectable, and of course my luck demanded that the only cop car in Ar Cena was on patrol, and of course, it drove past me.
I squeezed the steering wheel tight, keeping my eyes ahead. I had a funny feeling that they were just waiting for a nervous glance in their direction so that they could pull me over.
The cop car slid past and I let out the breath I’d been holding. I turned up my radio again and slumped in the driver’s seat, one arm out the window. I knew Ar Cena like the back of my hand. And whilst I was prone to road rage, I had learnt that I couldn’t rage and swear in my home town, after an embarrassing incident in which I managed to call my grandmother a ‘fat lazy cow who got her driver’s license out of a cereal box’. That’s about when I stopped getting Christmas presents, and honestly, I don’t blame her.
The school day passed quickly and I decided to skip English, lest Mr Burgess make true on his promise to call my mother about the absent assignment.
I pulled into our driveway and immediately noticed that my mother’s car was missing. I sighed; she’d been working later and later at the hospital recently - I was starting to feel like an orphan. Usually I didn’t mind, but I was in the mood to talk with someone with the same mindset as me, the man in the woods weighing heavily on my mind.
I let myself in using my key and slung my bag down on the shoe stand. Out of habit, I scuffed my shoes on the frayed rug that covered the floorboards, an act that my mother had promised she would gut me for, but one that she’d picked up herself without realising.
I meandered through the living room and switched on the TV for some noise; I told myself it was for some background noise, but I knew it was because I wanted it to seem like there were more people in the house. A six pack of beer and a note on the table caught my eye, and I picked it up.
Please be a gooddaughter and cook dinner.Yes, you can have a beer. Love,Mum.
I tore a bottle loose of its cardboard prison, twisting the cap and listening for the satisfying crack. Since I’d turned eighteen, Mum had been a lot more lenient with my drinking than other mothers with daughters my age. Mum’s advice was ‘I’d prefer you learnt about it under my supervision rather than experimenting with others and making a tosspot of yourself.’ Despite her reasoning, she’d copped some pretty heavy criticism from her peers. She’d promptly told them to bugger off.
I sipped the beer, wincing at the acrid taste on my tongue as I headed for the kitchen to start dinner. School always made me hungry, laughable considering I didn’t do much. I peeled open the freezer, hoping against hope there was still steak.
“Bingo,” I told the freezer frost triumphantly, sliding two big, frozen steaks from its icy grasp.
I pulled a fry pan from the cupboard and lit the gas stove, giving the lace curtains above it a half hearted tug away from the blue flames. Mum and I had always cursed whoever put those curtains there; as well as being a bloody nuisance, they posed a fire hazard whenever we cooked but we were too lazy to take them down. I drizzled some oil into the pan and left it to heat, heading back into the living room to check on the progress of whoever was trying to win a large sum of money on a show whose outcome had already been decided.
Now I’ll take the time to flashback about six months ago.
“What is that!?” My mother and I had both staggered into the hallway at the same time, wincing at the shrill screeching of something on the ceiling.
“It’s the damn fire alarm,” she’d growled, eyeing it off, one hand over one ear and the other hand steadying herself on the wood panelling. “Pass me that broom will you?”
I’d handed it over and then replaced my hands over my ears.
Mum jabbed the broom handle at the fire alarm until the plastic buckled and the beeping gurgled into nothing. Now hanging limply from the ceiling like a dead bird, it was utterly silent.
“Isn’t that illegal?” I’d ventured, watching it dangle.
Mum had shrugged, already heading back to bed.
“I’ll replace it soon.”
Turns out this show was quite entertaining. I rolled the beer bottle between my palms, giving helpful advice to the man who was trying to choose between forty grand and his girlfriend.
Suddenly, I sniffed. At first I thought I’d just let the pan get a bit hot and it was smoking. But then I turned around and caught a glimpse of those bloody lace curtains.
Or at least, what used to be the curtains.
“Shit!”
I dropped the bottle, darting into the kitchen. I seized the mop bucket from the cupboard and filled it with water, dousing the inferno that was quickly engulfing the kitchen. Smoke filled the air and I coughed, squinting. It smelt like burning mothballs – a result of my Grandma being our cleaner. I pulled my collar over my mouth and nose, employing an old trick that I’d learnt in primary school.
It didn’t work. My eyes were watering and I could barely keep them open. I dropped the mop bucket and watched as the fire began to grow and devour my home.
Suddenly I was knocked out of the way. Against the smoke, I recognized my stalker. He flung his hands out as if to protect me, but as I watched, the flames grew smaller and smaller, until they tucked into a little ball that he picked up and slipped into his pocket.
I must’ve drunk that beer more quickly than I’d thought.
“You should be more careful,” he said, turning to me. “This could’ve been bad if- hey!”
I held the saucepan at the ready, having snatched it off the counter and struck his arm with it.
“What are you doing?” he spluttered.
“What am I doing? What are youdoing!?” I swung the saucepan up to my shoulder, ready to react to his slightest movement. “I’ve seen you watching me. And now you’re inmy house.
“So you take up arms with a saucepan?” he asked, somewhat amused, though his dark eyes never left mine.
I scowled but didn’t reply.
Sirens wailed from down the road. Mrs Rogers next door must’ve seen the smoke. My stalker glanced around quickly.
“I’m going to leave you now-“
“Damn straight.” I snapped.
“- but listen to me,” he gripped my elbow, which almost resulted in the saucepan coming down on his head. “Listen to your dreams.”
I lowered my saucepan a little.
“What?”
My eyes flicked to the driveway as a fire truck pulled into it, and I quickly turned back to question him further.
But he was gone. The back door slammed and I ran to the window just in time to see him jump the fence, knocking a few more boards from it.
~Chapter Two~
“I should’ve replaced the fire alarm.”
“Mum-”
“No. I should’ve replaced it.”
We were on our back porch, polishing off the six pack.
Our kitchen reeked of smoke and sodden mothballs, but the only casualties had been the fry pan and the steaks. As such, I’d been treated to take out and another beer.
“How did you put it out? The fire department said it was out by the time they got here.”
“I grabbed the mop bucket,” I shrugged. Technically it wasn’t a lie, and I didn’t want to worry her with my stalker right now. “Luckily it wasn’t a fat fire; you haven’t replaced the fire extinguisher either.”
“And whose fault is that?”
Ok, that one was mine. I’d used it on my hair straightener when it h
ad started melting the top of the bathroom cabinet.
The sun was setting, disappearing behind the hills. It was a beautiful summer evening.
“There’s a traineeship opening up in reception down at the hospital,” Mum said suddenly, stealing one of my chips. “I was thinking of putting you up for it. Now that you’ve finished your exams for this year, you can do part time if you want.”
I chewed pensively on a chip, now keeping the box out of her reach. I didn’t really have an idea of what I was going to do after school, but qualifications definitely couldn’t hurt.
“The pay will be rubbish,” Mum was saying. “But it’s training that you’d have to be paying for otherwise.”
“Sure,” I said, though my heart was heavy. “Why not?”
~ That night I couldn’t sleep. I didn’t know if it was the fire or the man who’d saved my house from burning down. I eventually decided I was being kept awake by my very active thoughts about leaving school and my plans for the future. When I finally did fall asleep and slip into a dream world, I didn’t even notice.
I was standing by a river, in a spot that looked very familiar. The water wasn’t moving; instead, it was still and glassy.
“Are you familiar with the theory of alternate realities, Rose?”
My stalker stepped up next to me to look into the water as well.
“Only what I’ve read in science fiction,” I replied carefully, studying his reflection. He was older than I’d first thought, about the same age as my mother. He had short black hair and eyes like coal. Scars marked his hands and arms; this man had led a difficult life. “Why?”
“What you’re looking into is a portal,” he told me. “You could cross into it right now if you wished.”
“Where would it take me?”
He smiled.
“Home.”
My alarm went off in my ear, almost scaring me out of bed. I sat up, pushing the blankets away before I could hit snooze.
“Well, that was creepy,” I murmured to my alarm clock, and then promptly forgot all about it.
~
“Rose,” Mr Burgess called. “A moment please.” Everyone filed out of the classroom, leaving me with my English teacher. I noticed he had my exam on the desk
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