Soul Screamers, Volume 1

I accidently put too much weight onto my bad leg and hissed in pain, so Nash continued while I breathed through it. “Don’t touch anything,” he began. “Don’t make eye contact with anyone. Don’t even look at anyone but us.”


“And make sure you don’t step on anything,” I added, smiling wryly when my pain seemed to scare Regan. “Ready?” I asked. Both sisters nodded, taking the hands I held out. Nash held on to my arm, but I was afraid that if he wasn’t actually touching my flesh, he couldn’t come along for the ride, so I shoved up both my shirt and jacket sleeve, and he held on to my bare wrist.

Crossing over was a little harder this time, which left me oddly relieved, in light of Harmony’s warning that it would eventually become too easy. This time, the pain in my leg was so distracting, it was hard to convince myself I actually wanted to return to the source of my injury. But after a few frustrating minutes, my need for closure transcended pain, and my intent to cross over became real.

I opened my eyes when Regan gasped, not surprised to find her staring in openmouthed wonder through the glass doors at my back. The Netherworld version of Prime Life was already open for business, and based on the number of beings I could now hear milling around inside, I had to wonder if they ever closed.

“What is this place?” Regan whispered, stepping closer to the door. She pulled her sunglasses off as if they impeded her vision, and I was almost as glad to see her finally returning to true consciousness as I was unnerved all over again by the sight of those eerie white eyes. They fit in much better here than they did in our world.

Nash must have been thinking the same thing. He glanced from Regan, holding her sunglasses, to Addy, wearing her contacts, to me and my normal, boring blue eyes. “Um, Addy, I think you’ll be safer here without your contacts,” he said. “And Regan, give Kaylee your glasses.”

“Why?” she asked as Addison dug a plain white contact case from the pocket of her jeans, shooting Nash a questioning look almost identical to her sister’s.

“Because most of the things in there—” I pointed over my shoulder; I hadn’t yet worked up the nerve to actually look at the lion’s den we’d be walking through “—have no reason to bother you if they know you have no soul. But my eyes will give me away in an instant.”

Neither of them argued, and I almost felt guilty for not mentioning that some of them might try to eat us, whether or not we had souls. But not guilty enough for full disclosure, which might send them screaming into the Nether-night.

Regan handed me her glasses, which I slipped on immediately, then she held her sister’s case while Addy took out her contacts. Nash seemed willing to go in with his eyes unguarded, and I had to trust that he’d crossed over more than I had, therefore knew what he was doing. And finally, when we were all ready to go inside, I made myself turn and look.

The shock of what I saw was almost as powerful as the pain shooting up my bad leg with every movement.

Though I’d never been in our world’s version of Prime Life, I was willing to bet my next paycheck that the world-anchor had pulled it through in its entirety. Furniture, marble floors, stone fountain, and all. But the creatures occupying that space had little in common with their real-world counterparts.

We should not be here, I thought as Nash pushed open the door. He held it for us as I led Addy and Regan inside. Though, once again, Regan needed a little push to get her going. Not that I could blame her.

When the door closed behind us, I concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other on the slick, marbled floor. Step-ow! Step-ow! Over and over again, breathing through the pain and doggedly avoiding eye contact with any of the creatures in the room. At least, any of them who actually had eyes.

Regan’s breathing sped up until she was practically panting, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw her hand shaking. I wrapped my hand around hers and squeezed to tell her she was fine. Everything was okay. Then I made myself look up, though not at anything in particular, when I realized that walking with my eyes down practically advertized my status as prey.

And I would not be prey.

Near the fountain in the center of the room, two headless human-ish forms stood with their backs to us. One was male and one female, and she was bent to let her hand dangle in the flow of water that looked thick and smelled foul. When and if they turned, we’d find their facial features imbedded in their chests, as if they’d swallowed their own heads, and the lost parts were trying to break free from the inside. I knew that because I’d glimpsed this species briefly the day Emma died.

But what I hadn’t known—since peeking renders everything in shades of gray—was that their skin tone would be a smooth, delicate pink, as if they’d never lost the soft flush of the birthing process. If creatures like that were even birthed in the first place.