A Soul for Trouble

by Crista McHugh

  “Light up, Cinder.”

  The wolf’s growls grew louder, flames dancing off his fur. He leapt toward the nearest enemy with a snarl.

  Dev picked up his sword and swung at the neck of another undead. Up close, the face appeared grey and waxy. Fresh undead. Lucky for him, that usually meant untrained and stupid, even if they were stronger than seasoned soldiers. His blade sliced through the neck of his attacker. The head rolled across the floor, and the body collapsed.

  The room brightened as Cinder’s flames engulfed another undead, and Dev scanned the room for the necromancer controlling the animated corpses. No sign of him. Just more undead pouring through the front door, surrounding them.

  “Cinder, protect the girl.”

  The wolf retreated behind him and flanked the other side of Trouble.

  The undead slowed their steps and formed a semi-circle around them. He counted at least a dozen in the main room of the inn. Who knew how many waited for him outside? Their emotionless faces revealed nothing of their intentions, but the glow of their red eyes intensified.

  There were only three ways to kill undead: burn them, behead them, or kill the necromancer responsible for them. Words formed on his lips, and the magic within him hummed to life. It flowed from his center and down his arm like a tidal wave. As the last syllable of the spell hung in the air, a stream of fire rushed forward from his hand, igniting his attackers. They flailed backwards with a high-pitched wail. The flames from their limbs licked the curtains and wooden furniture of the room, and smoke choked the air.

  Trouble’s body stopped jerking. He flung her over his shoulder and ran for the kitchen.

  Relief washed over him when he saw the gaping back door. Lady Luck hadn’t totally screwed him over tonight.

  The blazing inn captured the attention of most of the bystanders on the one dirt road that ran through this town, but Dev stuck to the shadows. No need to entice them to form a lynch mob. Based on the warm reception he’d experienced earlier this evening, a foreigner like him wouldn’t have a chance at justice if these simple folk got a hold of him, especially once they realized he wasn’t human. He lost count how many times he’d cursed Robb for coming to this backward kingdom.

  “My inn!” the burly human who tried to threaten him earlier shouted, his face red. “That witch set it on fire to spite me.”

  Dev turned his head to the rump that lay beside his cheek. “A witch, eh? When this is all said and done, you’re going to have some explaining to do, Loku.” Cinder crept ahead, peaking around corners before he ventured forward. Dev followed him with silent footsteps. The sharp points of the girl’s hips dug into his collarbone, but at least she was light enough not to hinder his movements. He slipped through an alley at the edge of the town and found the grove of trees where he had tethered his horse. Once again, Lady Luck smiled on him. The horse was still there.

  He tossed Trouble over the saddle and mounted the horse behind her. For a moment, he closed his eyes and tried to sense the presence of dark magic. Years of his knightly training didn’t fade when he was sentenced to become the Soulbearer’s guardian. Part of him wanted to hunt down the necromancer responsible for tonight’s attack. Creators of such atrocities didn’t deserve to live.

  Cinder’s whimper interrupted his concentration. When he opened his eyes, the wolf licked the girl’s dangling arm.

  “All right, I’ll take care of her first.” He’d pledged centuries ago to protect the Soulbearer, and Trouble needed all the help she could get.

  ***

  Sulaino hid in the shadows, searching the night for the yellow-haired girl. She either burned to death in the flames or found another way to escape.

  A crowd gathered around the inn and tried to douse the fire. A futile effort. It would take a deluge from the heavens to put that inferno out. He could call on one, but why bother? He liked the townsfolk standing in one place, where he could easily pick them off to replace the members of his army who burned inside.

  He turned to his minions. “Kill all the men, but bring all the women to me. I must find the girl who trapped the god’s soul.”

  A dozen figures emerged from the nearby shadows, weapons raised. Completely occupied by the fire, the humans didn’t notice his undead soldiers until their blades impaled the first victims.

  Sulaino grinned while he listened to their screams. Nothing like the sound of terror on an early autumn night. He stroked the scar on his left cheek. If his estimations were correct, he’d easily replace the soldiers he lost in the inn. Soon, he’d have enough to challenge King Heodis and have his revenge. And if he could capture the soul of the chaos god, nothing could stop him.

  His soldiers brought him the first two women they captured. Tears streaked through the soot on their cheeks, and sobs racked their fragile human bodies. He examined the first one.

  The wrinkles that lined her face spoke of the many years of life she had lived. She was far too old to be the girl he sought. “Finish her,” he said with a wave of his hand.

  His soldier remained expressionless as he slit her throat in a quick strike. Blood gurgled out from the wound, and the old woman collapsed into a heap at his feet.

  The other woman screamed and strained against her captor. “Please don’t hurt me. I’ll do whatever you want. Just please don’t hurt me.”

  The necromancer stepped closer to her and tilted her head back so the firelight enhanced the curve of her face. Such a pretty young thing. He brushed back the stray curls that fell around her cheeks and glanced down at her generous cleavage. The smell of her fear aroused him. He studied her closer and recognized her from the inn. “What is your name?”

  “Jenna,” she replied in a trembling voice.

  He pressed his lips against the flesh of her neck. She shuddered beneath him, and his cock stiffened. She tasted like smoke and salt. How long had it been since he’d had a woman come willingly into his bed, especially one terrified as she was? “And you’ll do whatever I want, Jenna?” he whispered in her ear.

  She bit her full bottom lip, nodding. Another tear streaked down her cheek, and he caught it with his lips. So delicious.

  “And do you know what I want from you?”

  She nodded again and turned away from him.

  He reached into her mind, feeding off her fear. She thought he only wanted her body, and she was willing to give it to him. What interested him far more was her dread. To have one person so terrified of what he might do to her thrilled him. Soon, the whole kingdom would share her fear.

  “First, tell me the name of the yellow-haired girl.”

  She wailed. “This is all Arden’s fault, isn’t it?”

  He chuckled. “That’s for me to know.” He trailed his fingers along her neck, over the tops of her full breasts. “Shall we find a more private place, or do you prefer the streets?” She glanced over her shoulder where his undead soldiers finished off the last of the townsfolk behind her. Her breath quickened, and her body shook. “Please, let’s find someplace more private.”

  Jenna led him into one of the open houses and up the stairs to the bedroom. The sheets still retained the heat of their former occupant, who was now probably lying dead in the street.

  Without waiting for his command, she began to remove her clothes and lay still as he climbed on top of her.

  A few minutes later, a shudder tore through him as he came inside her. He tightened his grip around her throat and pressed harder, strangling her cries. Her eyes dulled in the moonlight, and her body grew limp underneath him. A wave of euphoria washed over him as he watched the life drain from her pretty face, heightening the pleasure of his orgasm while he consumed the last traces of her soul.

  He buttoned his trousers in silence. She had served her purpose well, but now he was finished with her. His mentor, Oztom, always raved about the taste of innocent souls. Sulaino disagreed with him. Innocent souls tasted sweet, but they carried no substance. Thieves and whores were much more filling. Their transgressions suppli
ed more than enough power to fuel his magic.

  Now, back to work. First order of business: animating the fresh dead waiting for him in the street below. Then to track down Arden and claim the divine soul residing in her.

  ***

  The last of the three moons sank below the tree line before Dev finally climbed down from his horse and spread out his bedroll. His body ached and demanded sleep, but duty kept him from giving into it. She would have his bedroll tonight. He would stand guard.

  Trouble slid from the saddle and landed in a small heap at the horse’s feet. If what he’d seen before held true, she would be out until midday. He scooped her up off the ground, arranging her gangly limbs on the soft blankets. His jaw tightened as he examined her and the way her bodice hung loosely on her lack of cleavage. Why had Loku chosen her?

  And yet, as he studied her closer, his curiosity increased. He told her earlier that she didn’t look like a Ranellian. In the four months he’d travelled this kingdom, the monotony of its citizens blurred together. The same dark hair, dark eyes, dark complexions over and over again. Then this little barmaid collided with him. Her golden hair reminded him of a summer wheat field glowing under the sun. A breath of fresh air in the dreariness.

  But more than her appearance caught his attention. In every town Robb visited, the people pointed and stared. A few even threatened to kill him. Yet she’d shown the old man compassion, treating him like a person rather than a raving lunatic.

  “Is that why you chose her, Loku? Because she was kind to you?” Trouble’s brows furrowed together, but her eyes didn’t open. She rolled over onto her side and curled up into a ball.

  More than just her coloring bothered him. His fingers brushed her hair back to reveal her ears. Scars covered the skin on top of them, but they didn’t form the distinct points he would’ve imagined finding. If she had elvan blood, then someone had deliberately tried to hide it.

  He traced the length of her ear from the rough scars to the delicate lobes. She moaned in her sleep. He jerked his hand away. What secrets did she keep?

  His blood chilled, and he backed away from her. Like the other human Soulbearers before her, Loku’s presence would slowly drive her insane. Humans were never meant to contain him.

  They were too weak, too easily swayed into doing his bidding. No wonder Loku preferred them.

  It was just a matter of time before she aged prematurely and started muttering responses to the voice in her head. For the first time in a century, a Soulbearer’s fate frightened him.

  Chapter 3

  The sound of humming interrupted Arden’s dreams. It was too early for the drunks to be singing, but the off-key notes continued to invade her thoughts. “Shut up,” she muttered in her mind.

  “But it’s time for you to get up,” a deep voice replied. “He grows impatient.” Her heart rose into her throat. She bolted from her bed. That same strange voice came from the old man seconds before he died.

  A warm hand grasped her shoulder, and she screamed.

  “Quiet, or you’ll have the entire Ranellian Army after us.” The bright sunlight blinded her eyes, but she knew that voice, too. His musical accent was unmistakable. The stranger with the wolf. She swung her arms and knocked him away from her. Then the back of her hand connected with something hard, sending tremors of pain up her arm.

  “Oh, you should see the look on his face,” the deep voice said with giddy amusement.

  Arden stumbled to her feet and backed away until she felt the rough bark of a tree behind her. Where the hell was she? Colors swirled in front of her eyes, forming incoherent blobs.

  “Trouble, relax. I’m not going to hurt you.”

  “What did you do to me?”

  “Besides save your life? Nothing much.”

  Her fingers clawed at the tree trunk, and she wondered if she could climb high into the branches until her mind cleared. “Why can’t I see anything?”

  “It takes a while for the transition to be complete.”

  “Transition?” A cold tongue licked her hand. She yanked it away.

  He sighed a few feet away from her. “Even Cinder’s trying to calm you down. Will you please just sit and be patient while I explain what happened?” The coarse fur prickled her skin through her thin skirt as the wolf leaned against her, effectively pinning her to the tree. The blobs of color began to solidify. She slid down the trunk and pulled her knees up to her chest. How did she get into this mess?

  “Finally, you’re showing some common sense.”

  “Where are we?” She looked up at the vibrant reds and yellows above her.

  “In the woods, about four hours east of Wallus.”

  “Why did you kidnap me?” Browns, blacks, and greens began to take the shape of a crouching man in front of her. She pulled her knees tighter to her chest. Until she could see clearly, she couldn’t even fathom an escape from her captor.

  “Did you want me to leave you in a burning building full of undead?” Her breath hitched. Memories of the night flooded her consciousness. She’d joined the crazy old man at his table when he grabbed her hand and started speaking in a strange voice.

  Then he fell over dead, a knife sticking out of his back. “You killed him,” she gasped.

  “Nonsense. I was his protector.”

  She tried to rise to her feet, but a low growl stopped her. Perfect. I’m out in the middle of the woods with a murderer and his wolf. What’s he going to do? Feed me to it when he’s done?

  Laughter echoed in her mind. “Cinder doesn’t like human flesh.” Her muscles tensed, and she looked around for the source of the voice. “Who else is here?”

  His face slowly came into focus. It could have been a handsome face if the frown hadn’t etched creases into his cheeks and forehead. Dark auburn hair framed it, providing stark contrast to eyes the color of evergreens. “It’s just me, you, and Cinder.”

  “Liar. I hear another man’s voice.”

  Her vision cleared just in time to see him quirk one brow. “You hear him already?”

  “He won’t shut up. Where is he?”

  The foreigner lowered his head and traced a symbol into the dirt. The pointed tips of his ears appeared through his hair.

  Arden bit into her hand to keep from screaming. The Lady Moon preserve her, he wasn’t human.

  He jerked his head back up, and a slow smile spread across his lips. “Your vision’s back to normal now?”

  Words refused to serve her, so she merely nodded.

  He chuckled. “You should see how wide your eyes are, Trouble.” His use of her nickname pulled her from her shock long enough to allow her fury to course through her veins. “My name is Arden, not Trouble.”

  “Arden Soulbearer,” he replied. His words caressed her like they did last night. “It has a nice ring to it.”

  “Soulbearer?”

  He stood and offered his hand to her. “It seems I have a lot of explaining to do. If you’ll come with me, we can continue our conversation as we ride.”

  “Why should I follow a man who hasn’t even given me his name?”

  “I’m Devarius Tel’brien, Knight of Gravaria and sworn protector of the Soulbearer.”

  “And that’s me?”

  He nodded. “Of course, I still think you’re more aptly named ‘Trouble.’” She ignored his hand and brushed the dirt off her clothes once she stood. “I hate when people call me that.”

  “But it fits you.”

  She fiddled with the pendant around her neck, hoping to find some comfort in the familiar object and finding none. “Where are we going?”

  “To Gravaria.”

  Fear coiled in her stomach. He wanted to take her to another kingdom. “No, I want to go back to Wallus.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I have a job there.” Not to mention, it was familiar and comforting. Yes, they stared at her and called her a freak, but it was all she’d ever known. Hal had promised her mother he’d look out for her and, despite all his th
reats, he was bound by blood to his word.

  “The inn is a pile of ash.”

  Her knees wobbled, and she braced herself against another tree. “Sweet Lady Moon, they’re going to blame me.” Her voice trembled as she spoke. She blinked back the stars forming on the edge of her vision.

  “Yes, I heard them calling you a witch as it burned down.” That sealed her fate. If she returned to Wallus, she was as good as dead. “Why didn’t you turn me over to them, then? Our laws forbid the use of magic.” He closed the distance between them in three long strides. He cupped her chin in his hand and forced her to look up at him. “I’m the one who set fire to the inn. It was the only way to deal with the undead that were trying to kill us.”

  The horizon wavered. If he hadn’t wrapped his other arm around her waist, she would have passed out. This all sounded like something from a bedtime story mothers told their children to frighten them. She clung to Devarius, welcoming his solid warmth against her. The smell of campfires and spices wafted from his clothes.

  “Come along, Arden. The sooner we start moving, the sooner we can get you to Gravaria.” She hesitated. She couldn’t go back home, but why should she blindly go along with an elf who’d probably drugged her?

  “You can trust Dev,” the strange voice answered. “He’s too honor-bound to lie to you.” She weighed the voice’s words carefully, wondering if it was some manipulative magic he was casting over her. For now, it was the best option she had until they came to another town.

  “It seems I might have to trust you.”

  “You should.” He mounted his horse and helped her to the space behind him.

  “Why Gravaria?”