Soul Screamers, Volume 1

“I will sing for her.” The voice was soft and lyrical, and as eerie in the odd silence as the reaper’s was. My head swiveled toward the source.

Tod stood in front of the closed front door. His feet were spread for an even stance, hands fisted at his sides, jaw clenched in fury. He looked ready to do battle with the devil himself, but Tod’s voice didn’t match the one I’d heard.

Someone stepped out from behind him, and my pulse raced in hope. Harmony Hudson. Nash’s mother. And she looked pissed.

“Can you hear me, hon?” she asked, and I nodded, so grateful for her presence that I didn’t think to question how she’d known she was needed. “Your voice is fadin’, but I can sing all night.” She faced Marg then, and seemed to stand taller. “You’re not leaving with her soul. Or the other one’s either,” she said, glancing at Sophie’s soul where it still bobbed sluggishly in the air over her body.

Marg hissed like an angry cat, mouth open, teeth exposed, and for a moment I thought she’d swipe at Nash’s mother with a set of retractable claws. Then she seemed to collect herself. “You’ll fare no better than the child,” Marg purred, slinking toward the entryway slowly. “It will take more than three of your men to steal from me while I hold four strong souls in reserve.”

“How ’bout four men?” Tod said through clenched teeth. He glanced at me, then at Nash, who nodded, giving him the go-ahead for something I didn’t understand. Then Tod closed his eyes in concentration, and Sophie’s soul bobbed a bit lower.

My eyes widened. Tod was a reaper. Yet he was very clearly helping the others guide Sophie’s soul.

Marg’s eyes went dark with fury, and she whirled to face Sophie, clearly intent on taking her before she lost her chance.

And that’s when my voice died.

“No!” I croaked, but no sound came out.

Yet no sooner had my scream faded from the air than true sound came roaring back to me, as if my ears had popped from a change in pressure. And the first thing to greet them was the most beautiful, ethereal music I’d ever heard in my life.

Nash’s mom was singing for Sophie.

All four of the men were tugging on my cousin’s soul now, with Harmony’s song binding it. But Marg was pulling on it too. Sophie’s soul began to rise again, and this time it edged toward the reaper, her arms spread to receive it.

“Marg, please!” Aunt Val shouted. “Take me. My soul may not be young, but it’s strong, and you can’t have Sophie!”

“You can’t save her....” Marg sang, and, glancing around, I saw that she was right. With four souls in reserve, she was too strong for even four male bean sidhes. Ironic, considering how small and frail she looked....

Wait. She was frail. My dad had said reapers had to take on physical form to interact with their surroundings. Which meant Marg had the same physical weaknesses as the reaper who’d tried to take me. The reaper my father had punched…

My head spinning, throat throbbing, I ran into the kitchen. I glanced at the knife rack, then shook my head. I didn’t know if I could stop her with one blow.

But I could whack the crap out of her.

I pulled open the cabinet beneath the oven and dug around for the old cast-iron skillet Uncle Brendon used for corn bread, then lugged the pan out and raced through the dining room. I passed Nash, Harmony, and Tod, and had already pulled the skillet back for a blow when I came even with my father.

Marg must have heard me coming, or seen some sign of it in my aunt’s face, because she turned at the last minute. The pan hit her in the shoulder, rather than the head, so instead of knocking her unconscious, I simply knocked her down.

But she went down hard. Her hip hit the floor with a thud, shaking the end table two feet away.

I couldn’t suppress a grin of triumph, even as a vicious ache rebounded up my arm from the blow I’d landed.

For a moment, the reaper lay stunned, glossy black waves spread around her head, arms splayed at her sides. On the edge of my vision, I saw Sophie’s soul sink smoothly toward her body. Then Aunt Val let loose a shriek of rage and launched herself across the floor. I’d never seen her look less graceful or poised—and I’d never admired her more.

She landed on Marg’s slim hips, straddling her, hands grasping the reaper’s shoulders. Her eyes were wild, her hair nearly standing on end. She looked crazy, and I had little doubt that if she wasn’t there yet, she would be soon.

“You will not take my daughter!” she shouted, inches from the reaper’s face. “So you either take me now, or you’re going back one soul short of the bargain!”