Unforgiven: A Soulkeepers Novel (The Soulkeepers Book 3)

by Lori Adams

  In the center of the square is the giant wooden maypole, or maibaum, whose rainbow ribbons canopy across the park in every direction. They reach the rooftops of every shop, including Hadley’s Market, the library, and even the courthouse. Beneath the wide umbrella of hues, young girls are twirling around in colorful spring dresses and wrapping their own ribbons around the pole. Vern Warner, in his brown lederhosen with suspenders and kneesocks, is front and center of some Austrian oompah band headlining at the gazebo. He is leading the children in an inappropriate German drinking song, which he mistakenly thinks is a folk song. Mayor Jones is racing across the square, waving his arms in an effort to stop the music.

  Abigail Monroe is parading around like Mother Nature in a purple gown and a wreath of red flowers, calling out, “Tanz in den Mai!” which means Dance into May, but sounds more like Taste in the mud, because she can’t speak a lick of German. Behind her, the McCarthy twins in their purple jumpers and red Bavarian hats with purple feathers, are wielding baskets stuffed with flowers and tossing out petals. At their feet are Siegfried and Roy, waddling around in white head scarves with yellow yarn braids over which they keep tripping.

  J.D. scoops up a handful of petals and dumps them on Rachel and Holden, who are wrapped around each other and boldly kissing for all to see. Jordan is humbly doting on Lizzanne, who has finally given his ego the time of day. Casey James’s dad loaned him out to work the lemonade stand, along with Sarah Cooley and Harper Rose. They are arguing about price control and the practicalities of socialized organic farming. High Alice is back on the Gazette’s payroll and is taking photos of Mr. White and Miss Minnie dancing a polka. And there are Dad and Connie Caulfield laughing and strolling among the festive crowd. They have developed a comfortable bond that offers Dad a stress-free relationship, which is exactly what he needs.

  All the chaos is strangely wonderful, but it’s Bailey I’ve really been looking for. She went through a latent evolution of sorts, according to High Alice, who nursed her back to health. With Miss Minnie by her side, Bailey has come through with minimal damage and no memories of ever being in Hell or being used as a vessel. Since I never knew Bailey before Diavolessa took over her personality, I don’t have a baseline of comparison. I can say this: Despite whatever Diavolessa took with her when I purged her from Bailey’s body, she left a kind, intelligent, honest, and playful girl that I am proud to call my best friend.

  I burst out laughing as Bailey comes romping around the gazebo in a short Bavarian skirt and a white blouse tied at the waist. She has two long braids and is brandishing a large beer stein, which she stole from Duffy in the biergarten. He is hot on her heels in Bermuda shorts, black high-tops, and a Canadian Mounties hat. Laughing and teasing, he begs to have his stein back, and she pretends not to hear while she empties it onto the lawn. When Duffy finally catches her, he takes the stein and drops it on the grass. Then he gathers her in his arms and they are off, whirling into a polka round with wild abandon.

  Life in Haven Hurst goes on.

  A deep sigh of utter contentment escapes me. I feel my roots in this town, growing strong in the depths of a place where I have come to know myself, the place that brought me home to Michael. I cherish it above all earthly things.

  I look up to find Michael smiling.

  “Happy now?” he asks, because I’ve done little else but worry about Bailey since we resurfaced. He has been patient. The others have been patient. But I’ve kept them waiting for too long. They need word from me that I will accept my place in this realm. So much has changed and come to light since our journey in and out of Hell.

  When we climbed back up to the Borderlands, Mom appeared in a flash of lightning. The Halo warriors, who waited for us at the Borderlands, took a knee in her presence. They were not shocked, like I was, to see her. They recognized her as a Light-Maiden, which Mom had to explain to me. It made sense, sort of, but now I understand why she was able to help Michael stay with me at our wedding. Mom is one of those rare spiritual beings never spoken about on earth. She commands great power—power that has been gifted to me by my birthright and by my Awakening. By my real father.

  Armaros had been at a loss for words at the Borderlands, embarrassed that he revealed the truth to me when he had apparently hoped Mom would do it. I was amused by his flustered apology and told him I had nothing but respect for him. I was happy to have him as my spiritual father, as long as he understood that the pastor would always be my dad. He understood perfectly. Armaros selected the pastor himself.

  “They’re waiting,” Rama says quietly, as though pained to interrupt us. Michael and I are not surprised to be found; Rama has not stopped nurturing me, fussing over me, or watching me since we resurfaced. He has come to understand that I am different from other spirit walkers. And he is humbled to have been chosen to be my Ascended Master. He says it is a great honor and he will see my ascension into my rightful place to the very end. Secretly, he knows how hard it was for me to watch Dante destroy himself. He is worried about the long-term impact it will have on me. I have done my best to assure him that I’m fine. Although my pain and sadness and love for Dante will always rest in a special place inside me, it will no longer threaten the course of my life.

  “Ready?” Michael asks, guiding me away. We fall in step with Rama and move deeper into the Borderlands. Michael still wears his Halo regalia but I’m told his fate is questionable. I learned that he gave up his wings and weapons, even the Halo sigil marked on his chest, when he descended into Hell. Each day his eyes become more solid in their nature as a Grigori; one blue, the other brown. He has not left his spiritual form; he did not join me in Haven Hurst when I briefly returned to my dad and friends. The spiritual barn is as far as he can go, and even that is in question now.

  We come to an unusual patch of fog but Rama leads us right through it. Hovering close, it has the strength to brush back our hair, kiss our skin, and clear away clutter from our minds. It purifies the light within us as though we are not yet worthy for what lies ahead.

  When the fog dissipates, I see that we have entered an enclosure of sorts, not made of anything solid, just a unified thickness that rises to a high-pitched roof that provides privacy. A holy chapel brought together by a host of clouds. Mom stands at the head in a soft gown layered with tender prayers. She has a supple, ethereal quality as though she might be in many places at once. Despite her timeless beauty—her long flowing hair the color of lightning and delicate features—as well as the love she radiates, she is serious and concentrated on the matters at hand. Armaros is standing to her right, hands clasped behind him in a show of submission. His frosty vibe seems well under control.

  On either side of the chapel, running the length and facing an aisle up the middle, are rows and rows of warriors bent on one knee. On my left I recognize what must be a band of Grigori; their silver, gray, and white uniforms resemble Armaros’s and, collectively, their chilly breathing is creating small clouds of fog. A sea of mismatched eyes of blue and brown are staring across the aisle. The Halos, unmistakably, in their black and gold armor, helmets, and broadswords, are meeting them head-on. Since resurfacing, I have learned that these two spiritual armies have been sworn enemies for centuries, which makes their appearance here all the more interesting.

  Beside me, Rama takes a knee, and then Michael. I hesitate and look at Mom. I have never seen her so stoic and reverent. I slowly lower myself to one knee as well. Resting my hands on the crossbow pistols strapped to my thighs, I bow my head and wait.

  After a long moment, Mom says, “Rise.” The silent movement of so many warriors is impressive. If I were to close my eyes, I’d never know they were here.

  “Sophia Patronus,” Mom begins, “as the daughter of a Light-Maiden and a Grigori, you have come to understand that you were made for something more. You were blessed with the natural elements of man, as well as holy light from the spiritual world. You have now reached the full heights of your Awakening. With the power born unto you, you
are called to lead the fight against darkness. You are called to guard and protect the souls of man as a Warrior of the Light. Do you accept your divine calling?”

  My heart is racing. All eyes shift to me. The Grigori warriors who have watched over their half-breed children since the beginning of time, the Halos warriors who have devoted their existence to fighting evil, await my response. Everything is made clear; I now understand that I am not asked to join the fight but to lead it. A Warrior of the Light. Somehow I know it is my true calling. It is the thing I want most.

  “Yes, I accept.” I sound calm and assured, but inside I’m freaking out. It’s a great responsibility that I’m eager to face, but that brings on a surge of panic. Am I truly prepared for this?

  Upon my word, the warriors, including Michael, Rama, and Armaros, take a knee in a show of respect. They bow their heads in my direction, hesitate, and then rise in unison. I am now their leader.

  Mom’s eyes are glowing with pride but she won’t falter in her duty. “It has come to pass, as often happens with the evolution of the holy light, that the unexplainable synchronicity—the union of a Light-Maiden and a Grigori—has led to the fulfillment of a prophecy—the prophecy of Sophia St. James. This has led to the fulfillment of another prophecy of the greatest height. In accordance with that prophecy, those who were once foes—the Grigori, who serve their brotherhood, and the Halos, who serve the Heavens—shall from this day forth be known as friends.” She spreads her arms to encompass the Grigori and the Halos. “You will recognize one another as brothers in the fight against evil. You will join in faith, spirit, and strategy to destroy those who threaten the souls of man.” She lowers her arms and breathes a heavy sigh of completion. “And now, Sophia, as their commander, they are yours to lead.”

  There is a stunning silence as I am left to stare back wide-eyed at the men awaiting my orders. I blink, then offer an uncertain smile. Armaros chuckles.

  “Any first thoughts?” he asks, and my mind takes off.

  “I have been graced with so much light and love, I don’t want to waste a moment. If it’s all the same to you guys, I’d like to get started immediately.”

  Warriors on both sides of the aisle shift and mumble to one another. Chief Halo Master Sachiel steps forward and speaks to me. “With all due respect, my lady, there is much to prepare first. Appointments of leaders, squad masters, personal guards for yourself, et cetera.” He throws a quick nod at the Grigori. “And whatever commands they have in place.”

  I see where this is headed, endless meetings to divvy up commands and ranks. At best, appointing outposts to ambush demonic skirmishes along the Borderlands. I can’t imagine a greater waste of my time.

  “Gentlemen, I understand your concerns. For now, I will accept the positions you already hold. There are more important issues to deal with, I assure you. During my descent into Hell, my eyes were opened in more ways than one. I encountered the lost souls that should have been saved by spirit walkers. Instead, they were victims of soul seekers, and are now doomed to immeasurable suffering as slaves. The demonic race is rising in power on the backs of those we have failed. I want to end the cycle. Our first mission is to rescue the lost souls in Hell.”

  I hold my breath and wait. My orders have a resounding effect on the warriors, mouths dropping open, grown men gaping at me. “What?” I say with a less-than-honest expression. “You didn’t think I would be content to roam the Borderlands and squash the latest battle between Hell’s kingdoms, did you?” Yes, that’s exactly what they thought. I smile coolly. “My orders stand as I have stated them.”

  Sachiel glances around, stunned. He rubs his red beard and then eventually nods. After all, what else can he do?

  “We’ll be ready when you are,” he says with some uncertainty. “We’ll need our best commanders and strategists from each side to work out the details of Hell.”

  “Armaros will help with that,” I say, to which my father nods.

  “And what of your personal guards?” Sachiel asks. “Every leader must choose personal guards to stay by his side. Beg your pardon, by her side.”

  I smile and say, “I choose Michael Patronus.”

  Sachiel’s bushy red eyebrows crash together in a deep frown. He consults with Squad Master Camael. Eventually Sachiel looks to his Light-Maiden.

  “Is it permissible?” Sachiel asks Mom. “Michael Patronus has been disavowed, stripped of his wings and holy weapons. He shouldn’t even be here now. How can he, rightfully, guard our leader?”

  Mom tilts her head and arches an eyebrow. This is her calm, reprimanding look that used to end with me being grounded. “Remember well, what I have spoken here, Sachiel; the fulfillment of the prophecy serves to join our forces. Grigori and Halos are no longer enemies. You are all Soulkeepers now. I advise you to follow your chain of command, sir. Your direct leader is Sophia. She may choose Michael Patronus to head her personal guards if she wishes. And if Michael accepts.”

  All eyes swing to Michael. He has been standing faithfully beside me, keeping me from freaking out. He is the steady beat inside me that stops my knees from buckling. I look up at him and formally make my request.

  “Michael Patronus, will you accept the position of my personal guard? To protect me and follow wherever I may go?” I have to work hard not to smile.

  The corner of his mouth tugs back into a lopsided grin. Just for me, he makes his eyebrows dance with amusement. And then he stands at attention and announces, “I accept.” Under his breath he whispers, “You go. I go.”

  I break into a wide smile. I want to throw my arms around him but somehow it doesn’t seem appropriate here. Besides, Michael is frowning and arching his back. I step aside and watch in amazement. By his vow to accept my request, Michael is returned to the full power of an angel; his back wings unfurl to a soft rustling sound. They stretch long and wide in a shimmering white display behind him. His mismatched eyes sparkle with a kaleidoscope of colors, but when they finally return to normal, they remain mismatched. The eyes of a Grigori.

  “What does this mean?” I demand to anyone willing to explain. “Why don’t his eyes change back?”

  It’s Armaros who volunteers. “Michael has his own prophecy to fulfill. Which he now has. Like you, Michael has become a hybrid—a new generation of spiritual warriors who have been graced with powers from dual sources for the service of the holy light. Michael draws upon his Guardian and Halo Light, combining them with the power of the Grigori. He was made to fight by your side.”

  “So Michael can leave his spirit form and return to earth as a human, with me?”

  Armaros glances at Mom before confirming my question. “Yes, Michael may walk among the humans as before. He can go wherever you go.”

  “Good,” I say. “I’m happy to hear it.”

  Michael retracts his wings. “What are you up to?” he murmurs, and I shrug and murmur back, “Before we take on Hell, we’re graduating from high school. Whether you like it or not.”

  He smiles and wraps his hand around mine. Under the gaze of all those watching, I feel three gentle tugs on my heart.

  The End

  Before

  the

  Beginning

  Dedicated to:

  Eddie, Danielle, and Sierra

  Acknowledgments

  Thank you to my family for their constant encouragement. To my husband, who gives new meaning to the word patience. To my amazing editor, Sue Grimshaw, and the wonderful team at Penguin Random House: Gina Wachtel, Kimberly Cowser, Matthew Schwartz, and Allison Dobson.

  To Chelsea King. Forever Seventeen. Thank you for your Light.

  As always, special thanks to the music makers who forever inspire me: The right songs are as important to my writing as the right words.

  Ben Howard: “Depth Over Distance” “Only Love”

  The Veer Union: “Darker Side of Me”

  The Pretty Reckless: “Heaven Knows”

  Michael Bublé: “Let It Snow”

>   Emblem3: “Sunset Boulevard”

  Butthole Surfers: “Pepper”

  Caught a Ghost: “No Sugar in My Coffee”

  Three Days Grace: “Painkiller”

  Strypes: “What a Shame” “Blue Collar Jane”

  Yo-Yo Ma, Alison Krauss: “Simple Gifts”

  John Schmidt: “Pachelbel Meets U2”

  John Lennon: “Out of the Blue”

  Trevor Hall: “The Lime Tree”

  Black Rebel Motorcycle Club: “Devil’s Waitin’ ”

  Kongos: “Come with Me Now”

  Band of Skulls: “I Know What I Am”

  Nazareth: “Hair of the Dog”

  Seether: “Fake It”

  Trapt: “Headstrong”

  BY LORI ADAMS

  The Soulkeepers

  Forbidden

  Awaken

  Unforgiven

  PHOTO: YUEN LUI STUDIO

  LORI ADAMS is the author of the Soulkeepers series: Forbidden, Awaken, and Unforgiven. She wrote her first book—about scary sharks—at the age of eight. Now she writes New Adult, young adult, and middle-grade fiction. Originally from Oklahoma, Adams lives in Southern California with her husband and two daughters.

  loriadamsbooks.com

  @LoriAdams33