If I Die

Beck blinked, and I relished those short seconds of surprise. Then they died a swift, brutal death. “If I wanted you to carry my child, your expiration date would be a bit of a problem. Fortunately, that’s not what I have in mind for you. My inherent charm works best on humans. The bitter irony in that is that humans are rarely able to carry an incubus baby to full term, and never able to provide the infant with a soul.”

I shrugged, trying not to let him see my renewed fear. “Sucks for you.”

He nodded solemnly. “Succinctly put. I can either breed with a human and look elsewhere for a soul, or I can try to force someone in possession of the desired soul to carry my child. And since I find physical force a repulsive way to start new life, I have no use for your body. I was going to have to kill you for your soul anyway.” He shrugged, evidently satisfied with how fate had dealt the cards. “But on the bright side, at least you no longer have to wonder how you’re going to die.”

21

Panic swelled in my chest, numbing me to the point that I could barely breathe. I couldn’t think fast enough to process what he’d just said. All I’d understood was that I was going to die because he was going to kill me. And take my soul.

“No.” I slid off of the counter, terrified to realize that my legs no longer wanted to support me—they were shaky from shock. “I am not going to die without my soul.”

“You’ll be dead—what does it matter? It’s not like you’re going to be tortured for all of eternity. You’re simply giving life to my son. Could be worse, right?”

“No. It couldn’t.” Call me crazy, but I didn’t want to be reincarnated as the hell spawn of a lust-demon. “You don’t need me,” I insisted, edging slowly along the counter, silently counting the drawers my fingers skimmed over, headed toward the last one. “I’m not the only nonhuman girl in town, you know. I’m not even the only one in the school. This soul doesn’t have to come from a girl, right?”

No, I wasn’t selling out Nash and Sabine. But if I could get rid of Beck long enough to make sure Em, Sophie and I were safe, I could call Tod and he could get Sabine and Nash somewhere safe. We could call my dad and meet up for safety in numbers. Or something.

“Oh, I know.” Beck’s brows rose in mild interest. “This town has become quite the hotbed of nonhuman activity. But neither your mara friend—Sabine is a mara, right?” he asked, and I could only nod. “Smart girl, but a little too eager. I never would have figured out her secret if she hadn’t tried to read my fears. But my point is that neither she nor your boyfriend will suffice. I haven’t figured out what Nash is, thanks to the dissimulatus, but I can tell that he isn’t pure, and neither is Sabine. They won’t work.”

“Pure?” That’s all I could manage, from the litany of questions firing from my overloaded synapses like sparks from a dying flame.

“Oooh, missed that part of the homework, did you?” Beck stepped closer, cutting off my escape. “The baby’s soul has to be pure. Untouched, in one way or another, because it comes directly from the source, without all the purification, sterilization, or whatever they do to souls that are turned in to the proper authority. And pure souls get harder and harder to find, with each passing generation.”

“They do?” Pointless question. Keep him talking…

“Nash and Sabine have been around the block a few times—I can tell that even with their psychic shields. And your boyfriend’s soul is bruised and battered from something else. Something dark that he tries to hide.”

Addiction to frost, of course. That was a soul-smudge if I’d ever heard of one.

“And like every predator, Ms. Campbell drinks from the fount of life. Even if she were virginal and blushing, you can’t just buff off a soul that survives by skimming from others.”

But I couldn’t think past Nash and Sabine, and the block they’d both been around….

“Virginity? That’s what makes a soul pure?” Oh, the irony stung. My fingers found the last drawer and I pulled it open behind me, relieved when it rolled silently.

Beck shrugged. “It’s among the qualifiers, as is a selfless desire to do what’s right, despite the personal consequences. Ironic, isn’t it, considering your soul will soon belong to a perfect little predator.”

“A virgin sacrifice? I’m your virgin sacrifice? Seriously?” I couldn’t get my hand into the drawer from my current angle. Not without him seeing.

“Oh, I’m quite serious. And grateful for how tightly you’ve clung to antiquated virtue. That couldn’t have been easy, in today’s world.”

“Stay away from me!” I stepped to the side and grabbed the butcher knife from the open drawer, surprised by how steady my two-handed grip felt. I’d said I could kill in self-defense, but I hadn’t really believed it until that moment. Until the thought of facing death with no soul scared me far beyond the loss of my own life.

“Most donors don’t provide their own sacrificial weapon, so I hope you don’t mind, but…I brought my own.” Beck reached back and pulled a small, double-bladed wavy dagger, presumably from a sheath at his back.

My heart tried to beat its way out of my chest. I couldn’t breathe.

Think, Kaylee! My dad wasn’t home, Tod was gone, Nash was messed up, Sabine was taking care of Nash, and Emma and Sophie were unconscious, being drained as we spoke. I was truly on my own, for the first time ever.

Beck came closer, and I couldn’t take my gaze off the double-bladed knife. My kitchen lights gleamed on old metal, still visibly sharp and etched with words I couldn’t read, in some language I didn’t know. Even if the shape alone hadn’t told me, the writing would have: this was no ordinary blade. It meant something.

It meant my death, and the theft of my soul.

“Shouldn’t the soul harvest wait until you have an actual baby to put it in?” I said, still clutching my own knife.

Beck shrugged, an oddly casual gesture, considering what he held and what he planned to do. “I’m willing to wait another eight or nine months. Those Marshall girls are quite a fertile brood.”

Nooo. “Traci?” I fought nausea at the thought. “How is that even possible?” He’d only met her a few hours ago, at most.

“A little luck, fortunate timing and some very eager swimmers.”

Ew, ew, ew…!

“Of course, it’s too early to tell about gender—that’ll take a few weeks at best—but it’s never too early to start planning.”

“Yes it is! It’s way too early to start planning. Won’t my soul, like, go stale or something between now and then?”

“Well, fresh is best, of course, but that’s not always possible. Which is where this comes in.” He turned the dagger over, and it reflected bright spots of light all over the room. “Handy little gadget I just acquired from one of the local hellions. Cost me an arm and leg—neither of them mine, of course—but well worth it. If I’ve learned anything from losing Lydia’s soul, it’s that a father can never be too prepared.”

“What is that?” I whispered, trying to hide the tremor in my voice.

“Hellion-forged steel. So long as this is in your flesh when your heart stops beating, it’ll collect your soul and hold it for up to a year. Like supernatural Tupperware.”

Fighting encroaching panic, adrenaline burning in my veins, I edged to the right, along the counter, desperately wishing I hadn’t blocked myself into the kitchen.

He reached for me, and I lunged to the left. But there was nowhere else to go—I was cornered by the cabinet and the fridge.

Beck grabbed my left arm and jerked me forward. I screamed and shoved my knife into his side, as hard as I could.

For one moment, neither of us moved. Each ragged breath seemed to burn my throat, all the way into my lungs. Something warm and sticky flowed over my hand, and I looked down to find blood pouring from his shirt and trailing down his pants.

I gasped and let go of the knife, scrambling backward until I hit the fridge. Blood dripped from my fingers onto the floor, and even when I closed my eyes, the pattern they formed remained on the insides of my