Souljacker (6 page)

I lean back against the building beside him,
stuffing both hands deep in my pockets, rolling the lint at the
bottoms between my finger and thumb. I could lie, but lying won’t
get me very far.

“I can’t help it, Sare. I really like her.
It’s not some silly crush—this is the real thing.”

“We don’t have hearts. How can you think that
you love her?”

“We have hearts,” I mutter. Everyone has a
heart. It’s just how you use it that counts. “And don’t start your
bull crap about us not having souls. Just because we were created,
rather than born, doesn’t make us any less human.”

“And that’s your problem, right there. When
are you gonna pull your head out from up your ass and realize we’re
not
human. No matter how hard you try and play the part,
you’ll never be part of their world. That’s just how it is, Io.” He
sighs, his head resting against brick. He drops the cigarette to
the ground and snubs it out with the tip of his boot.

“Look. We all have feelings. I understand
that, but you can’t just pretend to be a normal guy. You’re going
to end up breaking that girl’s heart, and from the look of her, I
don’t think she’d handle that real well. She’s human. She’s
fragile.”

I snarl at him. “She is far from
fragile!”

“She acts tough. Maybe that’s why you like
her. I dunno and honestly? I don’t really give a damn. All I know
is it’s only gonna lead to a dead end for both of you. Leave the
girl alone, Iofiel. Save her poor heart any more pain. And it’ll
save you a whipping from Lylan. He’ll be beyond pissed if he finds
out.”

I bite my tongue hard enough to taste blood.
I know this. Lylan will skin me alive and send me to the Unseelie
for punishment. I doubt I’ll even get a warning. But I can’t
just…forget about Lucy. She’s like a virus, injected into my very
soul. Eating away at my heart. I want her so badly it hurts. I
shake my head.

“I can’t just leave her alone.”

“Then you’re not a very bright pup,” Sariel
says, a little sadly.

I shrug. “No one ever accused me of being
smart, Sare. Just…don’t tell Lylan. Please. Pretend we never had
this conversation, pretend you never saw me.”

Sariel sighs and wraps an arm around my
shoulders, tugging me into a loose, brotherly hug. Then he rubs his
knuckles against my skull and I growl and squirm away from him. He
makes a shooing motion with his hand and I shift and turn away, my
heart lodged somewhere deep in my gut.

Lucy and me, we’re kindred spirits. And I’ll
find a way to keep her, if it’s the last thing I do.

Chapter 8:

Lucy

“You’d look like an American flag,” Sync says
as I pull a red and white dress out of its drawer, holding it up to
my body to show off my ideas for an outfit.

Hell, she’s right. I groan and fling it to
the floor, where it piles up with all the other discards. Having a
limited wardrobe is a slag. Why couldn’t I have gotten fostered by
a rich couple or something? At least then I’d be able to dress nice
for my date.

My stomach flips over. I press both hands to
the flutter there, unable to completely erase the grin on my
face.

I have a date. With a totally hot guy. Who
seems to really like me, despite the crap I put him through. Just
the way he looks at me, beaming brighter than the sun, is enough to
send me into melt-mode.

“I don’t know if I can do this…” I admit,
reaching for the next shirt. My stomach’s totally in a knot
now.

“You’ll be fine! You like him, right?”

“More than I should. This shouldn’t even be
happening—I don’t trust myself. What if I hurt him? Or worse?”

“Deep breaths, Luce. If you freak out, just
tell him you’re schizo or something and excuse yourself to go to
the bathroom. If you have to, crawl out the window and come home.
I’ll support you, even if I think that’s the cowardly way out.” Her
faceplate grins at me and I shake my head.

I settle on a blue and black plaid mini skirt
with buckles on the sides over black leggings. I find a fitted
T-shirt I forgot about in the back of my bottom drawer. The word
‘Rebel’ is emblazoned on it in silver sparkles and I feel it’s
fitting, somehow.

I pull my hair into a loose ponytail, letting
a few wisps fall down to cup my cheeks, and line my lower lids with
cheap black eyeliner that could probably withstand a hurricane
without smudging.

“Very cute!” Sync chirps as I regard my
reflection with a wrinkled nose. Not amazing, but not bad. I
squeeze my arms together so my boobs are a little more pronounced,
looking at my cleavage in the mirror. Sync huffs. “You’re beautiful
the way you are.”

“Yeah, but one cup size up would be nice.” I
sigh.

“Iofiel will be wiping drool off his chin as
soon as he sees you.”

“Yeah right.” I snort, flicking her in the
head before heading down the hall. As usual, I pause outside Mrs.
Rockwell’s door, surprised to see her sitting up on the edge of the
bed, wearing a pretty white sundress. Her dark hair is still mussed
from sleep, but she has her handbag on her lap.

“Mrs. Rockwell?” This is the first time I’ve
seen her dressed up since I moved in here. It’s odd.

She turns, her eyes meeting mine. “Don’t you
look pretty! What’s the occasion?”

I feel heat creep up my neck. “I’ve got a
date. With a boy.”
Well, duh, with a boy. Come on, Lucy.

Her face lights up and she gets to her feet.
I push through the door into her room and she meets me halfway, her
hands clasping mine. They’re chilly, but she cups my face in her
palms and smiles at me. “My baby’s growing up. It was just
yesterday that you took your first steps.”

And just as I think she’s getting better... I
smile tightly, reaching for her. She folds into my arms, all bones
and harsh angles, and I just hug her. When I pull away, she has
tears in her eyes, brimming like crystals.

“Where are you going today?”

She bursts into tears and not silent ones,
but noisy sobs that wrack her entire body. She sinks down to the
floor and I ease her down to keep her from falling. The door bursts
open all the way and Mr. Rockwell lumbers in, his eyes pinpointing
lasers into me.

“What did you do to her?” he all but
snarls.

I back away, feeling helpless, like a fly
trapped in a spider’s web. He drops to his knees beside her and
despite the fact that I hate him, I can feel the agony rippling off
of him in torrents. What would it be like to lose the one you love
to something like this?

“I didn’t do anything,” I mumble. “I’m going
out.” I hurry away before he can say anything else, racing down the
stairs and out the door. Sync zips along at my side.

I sit on the porch steps, my legs stretched
out in front of me, boot heels digging into the gravel. I will not
cry. It’ll ruin my makeup and damnit, I look good for once.
Besides, what would Iofiel say if he saw me sobbing for no good
reason? He’d probably turn on his heel and hurry away.

I lift my head. A sleek but rust-speckled
hover bike stops out front and I recognize the worn leather jacket.
I stand up quickly, nerves making my palms sweaty, and Iofiel grins
at me from underneath his bangs. “Hey, beautiful. You okay? Looking
a little pale there.”

“I’m always pale.” Then, “Yeah. I’m ready.
Let’s get out of here.”

“Curfew?”

“Don’t care if I ever come back. How’s
that?”

“I can work with that.” He chuckles, swinging
his leg over the bike. He pats the seat behind him. “Hop on. Sorry
about the ride. It sucks, I know, but Dad’s a hard ass and won’t
let me get a car.” He shrugs his shoulders in a ‘what can you do?’
way and I climb on behind him.

My hands slide down his sides, resting at his
waist, and I feel another flood of heat touch my face. Thank God he
can’t see me. He revs the engine and we putter away, Sync nestled
between my legs.

We pull into the back-forty of NiteGlo, an
indoor mini golf arena. It’s not very full for a Saturday night.
Perfect. Iofiel parks and we walk through the brightly lit lot and
shove through the double doors. We’re deposited into darkness, the
air probably pumped full of oxygen, like the casinos. The floors
are lit with green glow bars in the shape of arrows, which lead the
way to the lobby.

Iofiel pulls out a battered wallet and slides
a couple bills across the counter to a woman. She has pink glow
sticks draped around her neck and both arms, but that’s the only
features of hers I can pick out in the darkness. She stamps our
hands with a jagged star symbol and hands us two mini golf clubs
and two balls doused in paint that glows under a black light.

“Remember to play the last hole at the end.
If you get a hole-in-one, you get a free game,” the woman says.
“Otherwise, it just brings your ball back to us.”

I stiffen as I feel Iofiel’s hand brush mine,
sending Need tingles racing up my fingertips, cupping my palms in
heat. I grind my teeth together and follow Sync’s bobbing antennae
into the arena. Each hole is set up with a glow of lights and
different obstacles. They look like they get harder the farther you
get in the game. Which means Hole 18 is probably the devil
incarnate.

Iofiel offers me a ball and a club and I’m
careful not to touch his skin again as I pluck them delicately from
his fingertips. Maybe this was a bad idea… The Need is rearing its
ugly head, a great water monster coming up from the lagoon,
complete with venomous fangs. I shudder and watch as he places his
pink ball on the fake turf and swings back with his club.

And misses.

I can’t help but snort, nerves rushing out of
me with that one exhale. “Wow. You’ve done this before.”

He chuckles. “Hey, we’re here to have fun,
not to be professional golfers. I never claimed to be any
good
at this!” He doesn’t seem put off at all—instead, he
sounds amused. He nicks the ball on his third swing and it sails up
the ramp and bounces off the bumper. It takes him four tries to get
the ball from turf to hole. Definitely over par.

“My turn,” I announce, shaking out the
nerves. I bunch and roll my shoulders, then place the green ball on
the starting spot. Carefully, I swing and the club clinks against
the ball. It zooms up the ramp, scooting around the bumper, and
stops two inches from the hole. I triumphantly sink it in my next
shot.

“Looks like this is gonna be a steal.” And I
can see his grin in the flash of strobe lights from the next turf
over.

This goes on for fifteen more holes—him
failing at mini golf and laughing about it, and me sinking shots in
one or two tries. The arenas get trickier as we go, even going so
far as to have moving partitions and obstacles that you have to
time just right to get the ball in. Iofiel curses as his ball is
deflected by a scary clown. Its tongue sticks out, covering the
hole and mocking us with mechanical laughter. I let out a bark of
amusement, my earlier tension fading away with each swing of
Iofiel’s club.

Sync bobs above the clown. “Ooh, bested by a
G2 robot. Pretty sad.”

“The game isn’t over yet,” he says and my
heart does a silly swoon at his boyish smile. I giggle—me?
giggling?—and put on the brakes. Oh hell, I’m turning into one of
those girls I hate, the ones who hang on their boyfriends’ arms and
giggle like school girls at every smooth word they say.

Then he says, “It’s good to hear you laugh,
Lucy,” and it all doesn’t matter. I’m beaming, my heart doing
double time in my chest. I’m tempted to touch him, just my hand
brushing against his to feel the warmth of his skin, something
innocent, but I’m afraid of what will happen if I do. I don’t want
to lose control. I should’ve taken a bit more from Jale on Friday.
Then I wouldn’t be having these…cravings.

“Swing, batter, batter,” Sync calls from the
corner of the turf and Iofiel laughs, joining in. They sound like
crows cawing and I flip them both the bird in the flash of strobe
lights. I take a deep breath, zero my eyes on the hole, and swing.
The ball ticks off the club, flies up the ramp, and lands smack-dab
in the freaking hole. I squeal and do a little dance as lights
blast around us, signaling a hole in one.

Before I realize what’s happening, Iofiel’s
long arm is wrapped around my shoulders, squeezing me, and he’s
laughing in my ear; a sweet, sultry sound. All it would take is a
tip of my head towards his, our noses brushing, our eyes locking.
My heart skips, then stops in my chest, deer in the headlights
style. My lungs burn and suddenly, I can’t breathe.

Need rips through me, like my skin’s been set
alight and is burning off, turning to ash and fluttering to the
ground. I jerk out of his arms, gulping down a lungful of air.

“Luce?” he asks, his voice suddenly worried,
but I throw my hands out to keep him back.
Oh, God. Not here.
Please…
My pulse thunders in my head and I back away.

“I’m going to use the girls’ room,” I
announce in a strained voice, spinning on my heel and nearly
tripping over the partition. I hear Sync say something and then
she’s zooming along at my side, asking if I’m alright, but I can’t
answer.

Tears burn my eyes, but I refuse to let them
fall. I force sharp, short breaths through my nose as I collapse in
a bathroom stall. It’s almost too bright in here after the darkness
of the mini golf arena and my eyes feel gritty.

“Okay, tell me what happened,” Sync demands,
her robotic voice slicing through the pounding of my brain. She
hovers in front of my face and I reach for her, cupping her in my
hands. Her cool metal shell somehow grounds me and I relax against
the stall wall, my boots squeaking on the dirty tile.

“I don’t know. I just felt the rush and I…I
hate it so much, Sync. I like him. I shouldn’t be around him, but
damnit, why can’t I have one thing in my life that I don’t screw
up? Why can’t I be normal for once and have a normal boyfriend who
kisses me and loves me and is
normal
? I deserve that!”