Rise of the Fallen 1 - My Soul to Keep (2 page)

Mesmerized, I stared. I couldn’t help but dip the tip of my pencil
in it. I brought the tip closer to my face and saw the tiny drop of blood suspended
from it. I glanced down at my empty homework sheet and started writing in my own
blood. For several minutes, I scribbled a note in blood red ink to nobody in particular.
I don’t know if a vague memory of mine inspired the note, or if the fates themselves
guided my hand. As I wrote I could feel the importance of it. I knew without a shadow
of doubt I'd written a binding contract in my own blood.

I probably should have crumpled it up and tossed it in the trash, but
I wasn't done yet. Something drove me to grab the note and walk over to my stereo
speaker. It stood over three feet tall (another leftover from an era before digital
surround sound and wafer thin speakers) and had only one thing on it. A black candle
I'd gone through hell and high-water to get.

I picked my unused candle off the speaker and headed through the house
out to the back porch. As soon as I opened the storm door and stepped outside, I
debated going back in for my jacket. The chilly October air sent goose bumps up
my arms and over my chest. I figured I wouldn’t be outside long, so I let it go.
I set the candle down and reached into my front jeans pocket and pulled out my red
plastic lighter (don’t ask, or at least don’t tell my parents). The wind blew across
my arms as I held out the lighter and cupped it with my hand, trying to block the
breeze. As soon as I ran my thumb over the lighter, the wind died completely and
a bright flame sparked to life. I brought the flame closer to the candle and I swear,
it jumped from the lighter to the candle wick. It only added to the craziness of
the situation. My mind screamed, "This can't be real." The rest of me
wasn't so sure.

I stared at the dancing little flame for a full minute waiting for
the wind to snuff it out. It never happened. The air was still chilly but calm.
I pulled my hand away from the candle and pulled the letter out from underneath
my arm. I unfolded it and looked at it one last time. The words were no longer bright
red. My blood had dried to an almost dull brown.
What the hell are you doing,
Connor. This is stupid. Nothing is going to happen.

My hand shoved the paper into the flame of the candle.

Jokingly I chanted, “I, Connor Sullivan, promise my soul to whomever
grants my fondest wish. I do this freely, understanding that this is bound in blood,
never to be undone. So shall it be. Please accept my oath of blood.” The words rang
and echoed into the cold October evening.

The sun set, and just as it dropped over the horizon, I swear the vanishing
light chimed like a bell. The slowly burning paper flared in my hand. I lifted it
higher as a nagging voice in my head urged me to blow it out. I sucked in a lung-full
of air to do so when the note disappeared with a soft
thwump.
I didn't get
burned, but I had a handful of ashes. Without another thought, I tossed them up
onto the air.

I leaned over and blew a soft puff of air over the candle, snuffing
the flame. The wind picked back up and the crickets that had gone silent without
me noticing started chirping again. I grabbed my candle and headed back to my room,
trying to calm the sudden fear spreading through my chest.
It's official. You've
lost your mind, Connor. They're going to lock you in a loony bin.

Chapter 2

It took me nearly an hour to figure out three times x equaled four
times y. Disgustedly, I shoved my unfinished homework back in my backpack and tossed
it on the floor by my desk. I’d hoped my homework would help me forget what I'd
done out on the back patio. Half of me said I was being stupid for worrying. The
other half said my other half was stupid and that I should be shitting kittens.
The conversation going on in my head made me want to throw up.
Where did that
whole idea come from? I’d never heard those words before in my entire life, but
I wrote them out without thinking about them. Something isn't right. Something is
very, very wrong.

I turned around to immerse myself fully in some blood and carnage of
the video game variety when the sound of the front door opening and slamming shut
made me shudder.
Damn, there goes my free time
.

“Connor!” My sister’s shrill voice echoed up the stairs and rattled
around in my ear canals causing tympanic hemorrhaging. Okay, she didn’t make my
ears bleed, but her voice seriously annoyed the crap out of me.

“Up here, K,” I shouted out the door, not really caring if she heard
me. I called her K, but it was short for Caelyn. My sister was a freshman and all
of eleven months younger than me. If a wombat and an alligator ever mated, I imagine
their offspring’s personality would be much like hers. She made mean people seem
nice.

I heard her feet stomping up the stairs and I flipped on the Playstation
and my television. Without waiting for her I flopped stomach down on my bed and
grabbed the controller off my nightstand. I got the game started just as she entered
my room. I could feel her standing behind me and heard her tapping her foot impatiently.
I just started wondering how long she would let me ignore her when she walked around
my bed and stood in front of my television with one hand on her hip. I raised my
eyebrows at her. People had been executed in third world countries for less.

“Get out of the way, brat! Aren’t you supposed to be at cheerleading?”
I stared at her with confusion. She had on her blue and gold cheerleading outfit.

“Um, we’re having our meeting downstairs to discuss fundraising. You
told Mom you wouldn’t be home. I don’t want you here perving on my friends! Get
out!”

“Just shut my door, I’ll stay up here.”

“No! You promised Mom you’d go to Jeremy’s house or something. If you
don’t get out of this house right now, I’ll tell her about your little “habit” so
help me, God!”

I gulped and hit pause on my game. I started smoking about three months
ago, and if Mom found out, grounded wouldn’t describe what she would do to me.

“Fine,” I spat and grabbed my jacket. Jeremy wouldn’t be home, he’d
gotten a part-time job at his uncle’s garage after school last week. Maybe I could
head down to the mall. Not much else to do on a Monday night.

I brushed past the mutated freak that inhabited my kid sister’s body
and made my way downstairs. I could see the gaggle of cheerleaders outside on the
back patio smoking cigarettes and lounging like they owned the place. I rolled my
eyes and walked out the front door.

We lived about a mile from the Cedar Hills Mall. If I hurried, I could
get there before it closed. I could go for a pretzel or two. I didn’t mind walking
either. Especially in the fall when you didn’t sweat to death doing it. I looked
down at the cracked and pitted sidewalk as I walked.  I hadn't been there for a
while. I hated shopping, but my sister loved it. Pretzels forced me to go to the
mall even more than her.

I walked briskly, not wanting to miss my chance for some warm pretzels.
Only food could possibly make me stop worrying about everything. Food and video
games were my therapy.

Unlike my sister, I had a high metabolism. I could eat cake for breakfast,
lunch, and dinner and not gain an ounce. It was probably why she continually tried
to make my life a living hell. I couldn’t remember the last time I had seen her
munching on something other than lettuce. Bunny food sucked. No wonder she was always
grumpy.

The sidewalk started to make its gradual shift north and as I continued
walking, the sound of a motorcycle in the distance caught my attention. The deep
rumble sounded like a Harley or maybe a modified Victory. Most kids my age drooled
over shiny crotch rockets. Japanese motorcycles just didn’t do it for me. Everyone
I’ve ever seen on one looked way too uncomfortable. My dad had a Harley before I
was born. Seeing pictures of him sitting on it like he didn’t have a care in the
world made me fall in love with the massive motorcycles.

Nobody in our neighborhood owned one as far as I knew. Somebody must
have just bought one or else they were incredibly lost. The whole neighborhood we
lived in had one way in and one way out. I sincerely doubted anybody would be joyriding
through Cedar Hills, Pennsylvania. The winding streets, steep hills, and blind curves
had been one of the reasons Mom had made Dad sell his bike. If I had one I would
have moved or gotten rid of the mom. You don’t give up something like that.

I heard the motorcycle turn onto the street I was walking on, and the
rumbling grew to an almost painful level. I turned and saw it coming up fast. I
expected it to blow past me at an ungodly speed, but as soon as the bike got close,
the rider yanked the handlebars and fishtailed to a stop just a few inches from
the curb next to me.

She looked like a supermodel dressed in leather. Dark curly tresses
fell over her shoulders and down her back. I frowned a little at her lack of helmet.
I never understood people's obsessions with death wishes. Then I gave her a second
look over. She looked badass enough to crack the pavement. Maybe she didn't need
a helmet. My eyebrows rose as I finally looked at her face.

She was gorgeous from head to toe. I felt a little guilty about looking
at her face last. It was without a doubt, her best feature. She looked
really
young, but at the same time, something about her made her look older. The term,
"Ageless," popped into my head, filling in the blank.

I expected her to shout and ask for directions over the rumble of the
Harley’s engine, but she reached down and turned the key, shutting the engine off.
I stood there mesmerized as she swung one leg over the bike and sat on the seat,
staring right back at me.

She crossed her arms and lowered her gaze to my shabby Sketchers and
raised her eyes, slowly taking in everything else.

I wanted to hide behind a tree. Nobody had looked at me like that since
the first time I met my great-aunt Harriet. I had a feeling she was doing the math
to figure out how much she could get for me if she sold me on eBay.

“Connor Sullivan?” She made my name a question. I nodded dumbly. “Come
on, let’s get this over with.”

“Excuse me?”

“Look, I don’t have time for this. I have three more after you. What
do you want?”

“Excuse me?” The word
hooker
flashed through my mind.

“Did you, or did you not, sign a binding contract offering your soul
in exchange for one wish? If I have the wrong Connor Sullivan who lives at 1432
Willow Street, I apologize.” She rolled her eyes and threw up her arms, apparently
more than a little annoyed.

“That was real?”

“Yes, completely. Now I haven’t got all night. What do you want? Make
it good. The price is a little hefty I’ll admit, but it's worth it.”

Realization dawned on me. My knees went weak, but I managed to stay
on my Sketchers. “This isn’t some sort of joke?”

“Nope, one wish for one soul, that was the deal.”

“What are you?”

“I’m what you would call one of The Fallen. Don’t ask me what that
means because if you can’t figure it out on your own, you don't deserve to know.
I'm not here to baby you. C’mon, what is it you want? Let me guess, like the five
billion other teenagers who saw the movie you want to be a vampire, right?” She
shifted herself more comfortably on the Harley and rolled her eyes again. She must
not have thought much of today’s youth. “Maybe you’re Team What’s-his-name? You
wanna be a werewolf? Less restrictions, but flea collars are kinda expensive.” She
actually laughed at her own joke.

I couldn’t believe this was real. I looked around frantically for hidden
cameras and my sister. Then I knew. Just standing there, you could feel the power
flowing off of her. Legitimate didn’t begin to describe her. I wondered briefly
what a Fallen might be, but I seriously didn’t have the balls to ask her. She might
turn me into a frog and take my soul anyway.

Thinking about my soul made tears well up. I didn’t start crying but
I came close, damn close. If I lost my soul, my parents would kill me. I wish I
had never bought the damn candle or written the stupid note. I needed a way out
of this and I needed it now.

“Is there any way I can change my mind?”

“Don’t even think about it. You wrote the contract in your own blood.
There isn’t anything in this world, or the other, that’s more binding. Make your
wish. By the way, I can see you’re about to turn around and run away. If you do
it, I will catch you in less than three seconds, take your soul, and feed your body
to some very, very nasty creatures. Don’t even think about it.”

I had been planning on running just like she said. I don’t know if
she could see it in my face or if she could read my mind. It really didn’t matter,
I believed her threat. “When do you get my soul?”

“The law states, not until you expire of natural causes or your body
is destroyed by an outside force not related, caused, or schemed by one of The Fallen.
C’mon, Connor, it’s a fair trade. You get what you want and we get your soul. Think
of it as job security. When people die, unclaimed souls are fought over, get lost,
or sometimes just disappear. This way, even after you die you still have a purpose.
What’s it going to be? Do you want to live for a very long time? Being a vampire
or werewolf would do that. Do you want wealth? Wish for a million dollars. I’ve
seen that one a hundred times at least,” she said sounding bored again. Like she
knew I would wish for something trivial or something somebody’s wished for before.