My Soul to Take
Page 76

Marg! she shouted, and I flinched. My hands gripped the chair arms as I tried to regain my control after shed nearly shaken it lose. I know youre here, Marg!
Marg? I hadnt told Aunt Val about seeing the reaper, or that she was, in fact, female. And I hadnt even known the reapers name. Until now.
And suddenly I understood. Aunt Val knew the reapers name because she had hired her.
No! Denial and devastation pinged through me. I couldnt believe it. Aunt Val was the only mother Id known for the past thirteen years. She loved me, and she certainly loved Sophie and Uncle Brendon. She would never do business with a reaper, much less bargain with the souls of the innocent.
But the drinking, and the questionsShed known all along why the girls were dying!
This wasnt part of the deal! my aunt screamed, hands clenched into fists, shaking in either fear or fury. Or both. Show yourself, you coward! You cant do this!
But thats where she was so very wrong.
21
AUNT VALS SHRIEK had yet to fade from my ears when Sophies legs collapsed beneath her. As she fell, she smacked the back of her head on the edge of an end table. She hit the floor with a muffled thud, and blood trickled from her hair to stain the white carpet.
Neither of her parents saw. Uncle Brendon was scanning the bright room obsessively, as if the reaper might be hiding behind an armchair, or in one of the potted plants. Aunt Val still stared at the ceiling, shouting for Marg to appear and explain herself.
As if reapers hailed from above.
But the moment Sophie died, her soul song forced itself from my throat, and I nearly choked, trying to hold it back out of habit.
Aunt Val noticed me retching and whirled around to look for her daughter. No! she screamed, and Id never heard a human voice come so close to my own screech until that moment.
She dropped to her knees on the floor. Wake up, Sophie. She stroked loose blond curls back from her daughters face, and her fingers came away smeared with blood. Marg, fix this! This wasnt the deal!
Sophie! Uncle Brendon joined his wife beside his daughters lifeless body, as Nash and I looked on in horror, too shocked to move. Then my uncle looked at me over his wifes shoulder, but I couldnt understand what he wanted. I was too busy holding back the scream.
Nash dropped into a squat by my chair and took my hands, his gaze piercing mine with quiet strength and intensity. Let it out, he whispered. Show us her soul so we can guide it.
So I sang for Sophie.
I sang for a soul taken before its time, for a young life lost. For childless parents, and for a girl who would never get to decide who and what she wanted to be. For my cousin, my surrogate sister, whosequick tongue would never be tempered by age and experience.
As I screamed, the lights dimmed, though I could see no noticeable difference in any one bulb. The entire room began to gray, like the gym had earlier, and I glanced hesitantly around the room, suddenly terrified of finding dark, misshapen creatures skulking around my own house.
There were none to be found. I was clearly seeing the Netherworld, but it wasempty, somehow.
But even more disconcerting than that was the sound. Or rather, the absence of sound. While I sang, I heard nothing else around me, as if someone had pushed the mute button on some cosmic remote control. After a few seconds, I couldnt even hear myself scream, though I knew from the fire in my throat and lungs that I was, in fact, still screeching at the top of my inhuman lungs.
Nash stayed with me, his fingers linked through mine on the arm of the dining-room chair, completely unbothered by the ungodly screech clawing its way from my mouth. My father stood still, staring at my cousins soul, a pale, pink-tinged amorphous shape hovering several feet above her body, bobbing like a kite tethered to the ground in a brisk wind.
Her soul had risen higher than Emmas had, and some part of me understood that that was my fault. Because Nash had to prompt me to release the wail for Sophie.
Uncle Brendon stood with his arms stiff at his sides, his hands fisted, exposed forearms bulging with great effort. I couldnt see his face, but I imagined it looked like Nashs, when hed guided Emmas soul: red and tense, and damp with sweat.
Aunt Val had collapsed over her daughter, crying inconsolably now. She was the only one in the room who couldnt see Sophies soul, and some distant part of me found that unbearably tragic.
Uncle Brendons shoulders fell, and he turned to me in exhaustion. Hold her, he mouthed, and I nodded, still screaming. I would do my best, but my throat was still sore from singing Emmas song that afternoon, and I wasnt sure how long I could hold on to Sophie.
My uncle gestured to my father. I didnt catch all of what he said, but the gist of it was clear: he couldnt do it alone. For some reason, he couldnt budge his daughters soul.
My dad nodded, and they both turned back to Sophie, working together now.
Aunt Val knelt with her hand on her daughters sternum, facing the rest of the room. But she wasnt looking at any of us. She was talking, evidently, to the room in general. Her face was splotched with tears, and flushed with both grief and guilt. I couldnt understand much of what she said, but I made out two words based on the familiar motion of her lips.
Take me.
And then I got it. She was talking to the reaperMargbegging her to spare Sophies life in exchange for her own.