Souljacker (3 page)

I open my eyes to see the familiar futuristic
coffee shop done in stainless steel and glowing tube lights that
line the room. It’s dimly lit with lamps that cast a warm glow
throughout the ship. Both walls are lined with thick glass windows
that showcase the world outside—endless stars in an expanse of
black. I take a deep breath to steady my trembling hands and walk
in.

Table booths are filled with people of all
ages, from old crusties to pre-teens just out of school. I get in
line and order a peppermint hot cocoa. The girl who rings me up is
a perky woman with golden ringlets pulled back into a bun. She
offers a lopsided smile and fills the cup. It steams, the whipped
cream on top already starting to melt. She sticks a peppermint
straw in the cup.

“Have an awesome night!” I’ve been here
enough to know that if they ever made her into a talking doll, that
would be one of her key phrases. I hide my grin with my shoulder as
I turn away.

I settle into a booth only a few feet away
from the stage, which looms like a masterpiece in the corner, shiny
and decked out with huge speakers and bright lights. I blow on my
cocoa and hook my legs under my chair. Sync settles down where she
can get a good view. I scald my tongue with a sip through the straw
and grumble. Sync chirps with laughter. I lean back in my seat.

I can’t get that hound out of my head. It’s
insane. Everyone knows that cyberhounds are one of the Unseelie
Fae’s personal bodyguards. They aren’t lap dogs. They aren’t even
real
dogs. They’re some sort of freak cyborg mutation. All
the hounds I’ve seen have been cold and stoic, making sure the city
is running smoothly. They work together in packs and never have I
seen one wag his tail.

But this one… He just seemed lonely. Maybe
he’s like me—maybe he feels like a freak of nature. Maybe the
freaks like to gather together and have a freak party and invite
all their freak friends.

“Oh bloody hell, it’s MaXXX.” Sync swoons and
I turn my head. Sure enough, the blue-haired Illuvian is standing
on the stage, fiddling with the mic, his guitar strap slung across
his shoulder. He’s beautiful in a rock star,
never-will-be-attainable sort of way.

But he’s not who makes my heart hitch in my
chest.

Sitting three tables over is a young guy, his
hair the color of polished onyx and spiked up every which way. His
face is sculpted, but wild at the same time, and his black leather
jacket is tailored to fit his shoulders perfectly. The entire left
side of his face is veiled by a leather mask, the eye hidden from
sight. The other eye is staring right at me. I look at him for a
moment and a broad smile crosses his face.

Busted.

“Damn,” I mutter, turning away. Sync bobs,
staring at MaXXX, her antennae glowing soft pink. Yep, the robot is
infatuated. Is that even possible? I risk another glance towards
the guy. He’s still looking my way.

“Sync. Earth to Sync.” She doesn’t respond,
so I flick her in the head. My fingernail rings off metal. She
spins on me. “Look to your right.”

“Can’t you see I’m trying to—Ooh.” She
pauses. “That guy is looking at you, Luce.”

“No, really? I hadn’t noticed.” I roll my
eyes.

“He’s looking at you in a way that suggests
he’s interested.”

“Great. What do I do?”

“You could always go talk to him.”

“I’ll pass.”

“Why not? He’s totally your type. Cute
enough?”

“Sure, but…” I feel my face heat up, a slow
simmer. I shake my head. “Would you go talk to MaXXX?”

“Maybe if I had a human body. I highly doubt
a rock singer would be interested in a model like myself.”

“You don’t know; he could totally have a
robot fetish.”

“Luce!” She scolds me and I crack a grin.

The first chord of their hit song ‘Breaking
Out’ blares from the speakers and the crowd begins to whistle and
screech. I slouch in my seat, trying not to steal little glances at
the dark-haired guy. I’ll admit, he is hot, but a boyfriend’s just
not in my agenda. Besides, once he figures out who I am and what I
can do, it would be bye-bye cutie pie.

The music thrums deep within me, the bass
reverberating in my soul. People at the next table over are
singing, mostly off-key, to MaXXX’s smooth-as-silk voice. The
singer is grinning, holding his guitar like it’s his lifeline. The
drummer behind him pumps out a quick beat, smashing the cymbal, and
people cheer again.

I risk another glance. The hottie grins,
shows a flash of teeth, and then lifts his hand in a wave. I shrug
and look away before he can see the heat invading my cheeks. My
pulse is thundering like the drum set. Hormones are such a
slag.

I tip back my cocoa, which is cool enough to
drink now, and gulp it. Whipped cream frosts my nose and I swipe at
it, then crunch the peppermint straw, enjoying the icy burn of
mint. I need to chill. So what if that guy’s staring at me? I came
here to enjoy the band, not freak out.

With steely resolve, I turn in my chair so
there’s no possible way I can see the hottie, and stare at MaXXX as
he croons to a ballad. Sync sighs beside me, her digital eyes the
shape of hearts, and I can’t help but laugh. When Elysium starts a
song that I know by heart, I start singing along with the group
beside me, my voice barely audible.

“Miss?” There’s a tap on my shoulder and I
jump, glancing up into the face of the perky blonde waitress. She
smiles down at me, holding a fancy latte in her hand. She places it
in front of me. “He said to say this was from your guardian angel.”
She giggles and I frown.

“Who?”

“The guy over there.” She waves towards the
hottie. Our eyes meet and he grins and winks at me. Oh hell. The
waitress beams. “Looks like you’ve got a secret admirer, lucky
girl. I’d totally steal him if he was a few years older. Have an
awesome night!” She prances off, leaving me a cup of steaming
coffee and a churning stomach.

I glance up to see the boy again, but he’s
not in his chair. I see his back retreating towards the Portal, his
thumbs hooked in the belt loops of his jeans. My heart skips a beat
and I hunch my shoulders, trying to get the stupid, silly feeling
of excitement out of my gut.

I. Do. Not. Need. A. Boyfriend. It would just
be an emotional hazard. A boyfriend is only possible in my fantasy
world, where I have doting parents who love me, a little sister
named Ramona, and a puppy who still pees on the floor.

In the real world, I only have two people:
Myself and Sync.

Chapter 4:

Lucy

I push through the door to my house—note I
said house, not home—three minutes before curfew. Sync is tucked
away in my bag, probably dreaming of MaXXXXX and acquiring a human
body so she can seduce him and have kinky robot sex with him.
Ew.

Mr. Rockwell is sitting in his recliner, hand
on the remote for the Holoscreen. He’s not tall, but he’s big. And
intimidating. And he knows it. His hair is swept away from his face
in graying copper curls and his steely grey eyes meet mine as I
walk through the room.

“Hey.” I try for nonchalant.

“It’s 10:01.”

“My clock says 9:59.”

“I’ll let it slide this time, Lucy. We’ve set
curfew for a reason. I don’t think you understand just how good you
have it here.”

I refrain from rolling my eyes. That’ll get
me grounded for sure. I force a nod. “Sorry,” I mumble, turning
away from him. I feel fire lap at my throat, anger boiling deep
within me. I want, so badly, to reach out and just…touch him. Take
a little. Not enough to hurt him. Just enough to scare him. He’d
never bother me again.

“Night,” I say, zipping away before I can act
on impulses. God, I can’t wait till I’m out of here. Then I’ll come
home whenever I want and no one will be able to snap at me for
it.

I pass Mrs. Rockwell in her room as I head up
the stairs. She’s lying in bed, the blankets pulled up around her.
The Holo’s on, muted, and she’s just staring at it as lights
flicker across her face. I hesitate at the door, watching her for a
moment, feeling a pang of regret for wanting to soul-suck Mr.
Rockwell when he has to deal with a sickly wife. It’s a miracle
they want me at all, even if I am just free money coming in.

“Aely?” Her voice is tiny.

I clear my throat. “Lucy,” I say, leaning
against the doorjamb. Her face crumples and she shakes her head.
Maybe I should’ve let her believe I was her lost daughter. “Do you
need something?”

“Oh. No. Don’t worry about it, sweetie.” She
turns over in bed. I back out of the room, clutching the strap of
my bag tightly. As I head towards my bedroom, I hear her whimpering
from beneath the sheets and it rips at my heart.

If I was a good person, I’d go back and
comfort her. Go back and…do something. But Aely’s gone. She’s been
gone for years and it’s cruel to pretend with someone who’s
probably not even aware of the present date and time.

My room is actually the den, fixed up to look
like a bedroom. I have no closet, only a dresser with three
drawers. My bed’s a twin, but it’s still cramped in here. I have a
little pathway to walk through and that’s about it.

I sink down on my bed, feeling the old
mattress creak beneath my weight. I unbuckle my boots and kick them
off, wiggling my toes. I strip out of my jeans and leave them in a
pile on the floor. They’re not dirty and they’re the one good pair
I have, so I’ll wear them again. I shimmy into an oversized T-shirt
that comes down past my thighs and flop back on the bed.

Sync pushes her way out of the bag and hovers
above the dresser that’s pushed up against the bed. “I so wish I
could meet MaXXX in real life. He’s so…”

“Dreamy?” I offer, a quirk to my lips.
“Sex-on-toast?”

“Is that even possible?”

I laugh. “Someday, Sync, we’ll get you an
android body and transfer your files over. You’ll have long, sexy
legs and you can wear boots, as long as they’re not as awesome as
my boots. Can’t have you out-looking me.” I stretch out on the bed,
kicking the sheets out from under me and tugging them to my chin.
“Light?”

“Someday,” Sync agrees. She flies over,
nudges the light off, and then comes back to bed, glowing a path to
her spot on the dresser. She’s my own personal night light. “And
Luce?”

“Hm?”

“If you see that boy again, you should talk
to him. You deserve to be happy.”

I see him in my mind’s eye, that
grin-and-wink combo, and my heart flutters again. “Night,
Sync.”

A pause, and then: “Night, Luce.”

***

The days go by in a blur as I fall into
routine. Walk to school, spend all freaking day
in
school,
go to Cosmo, walk home. Repeat. On the walks to and from, most days
my cyberhound accompanies me, his massive body ambling along at my
side. His shoulders nearly come up to my waist and he’s thick,
ripcord muscle and brindled midnight fur. The cyborg leg gleams in
the sunlight. His gait is smooth and it’s like he was born with it,
even though that’s insane. Robots are created, not born.

It’s strange how safe I feel with him. He’s
like my own personal bodyguard. I’ve seen two Wraiths since,
lurking in the shadows, watching me with those empty eyes, but they
never come close enough to touch me. I wonder if they know he’s
attacked their kind before. I wonder why he saved me in the first
place.

We reach the school and my hound butts his
head up against my thigh, rubbing like a big cat might. His tail
wags and then he steps back, watching me. His ears swivel forwards
and back, picking up sounds.

I gently touch his head. “See ya, Freak,” I
say with a smile, taking the steps two at a time. I make it into
the school and look back around, but the hound is already gone.

I make a pit stop in the bathroom before the
bell rings. As I’m washing my hands, I see the girl from a few days
ago come out of a stall. Her hair is poofy, tamed back into a
ponytail at the back of her head. It’s all natural: No extensions,
no dyes. She has a spatter of freckles across her nose, making her
look younger than her boobs say she is. I offer a tentative
smile.

“Hi.”

“Lucy, right?” She sidles up beside me,
washing her hands as I dry mine. I stuff them into my pockets. I
remember her watching me as Sync pulled debris from my wounded
hands, hands that have pretty much healed up. Even now, she doesn’t
seem at all scared of me. I know she has to have heard the rumors.
She just doesn’t seem to care and I’m not sure if that makes me
excited or nervous.

“Yeah.”

She dries her hands under the airflow, then
sticks one out. I stare at it for a moment. Her brow arches.

“Oh.” I feel heat rush to my face and I shake
it quickly.

She laughs. “I’m Caddie. I’m in your Earth
Science class. I sit two seats behind you.”

I look at her, but the name doesn’t ring a
bell. That class is a little more exciting than the rest of them,
but still, pretty boring in my book. When I don’t say anything, she
adds, “I’m the girl Mr. Hoopes always calls on.”

“Sorry,” I say with a shake of my head. We
kind of just stand there in an awkward silence as it stretches
around us, enveloping me in a cocoon. “I’m not that social.”

“I don’t blame you.”

Outside, the bell rings shrill and we both
jerk to attention. “We’d better get to class.” How can one simple
girl make me feel so on edge? It would be easier if she was being a
jerk. I’m not sure how to handle nice.

“Agreed.” She turns to open the door, then
pauses mid-swing. She looks at me. “Hey. Um. Sorry if I’m out of
bounds or something, but would you wanna hang out sometime? I know
you don’t really seem to do the whole ‘friends’ scene, but I
figured…”

Fear spreads like a virus through my blood,
setting me on fire and freezing me solid at the same time. I think
of Sophia, her red hair streaming into her face like ribbons of
blood as she flopped lifelessly to the ground. I think of the agony
in my heart as I sat by her bedside and when she woke up, she woke
up screaming, her eyes wide with terror. I told myself never
again.