Shayna Grissom - A Soul Reclaimed

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ISBN 978-1-988281-70-4

Copyright 2019 Shayna Grissom
All Rights Reserved

Edited by Laurie Carter

Formatting by Renee Hare
Publisher Sands Press

Publishers Note

This book is a work of fiction. References to real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locales, are intended only to provide as a sense of authenticity, and are used fictitiously. All other characters, and all incidents and dialogue, are drawn from the authors' imaginations and are not to be construed as real.

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1st Printing April 2019

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"Don't think I've forgotten," Peter said.

I knew he hadn't. My birthday wasn't a widely celebrated event, but Peter had a small cake waiting for me on my desk every year. My mother would never celebrate the day I ruined her life, but at least my tutor loved me.

"You know how I feel about my birthday," I told him.

"I do, which is why I insist on making a day of it. Besides, you know how much Sarah loves the castle market."

The second part of my birthday tradition was visiting the open market. He was right. Sarah loved all things luxurious and extravagant. It was something that reminded her of the fourth region, the place she once called home. Every year, Peter and Sarah would take me to the castle market, and we would see the most exotic wares.

It wasn't that I disliked the market. I enjoyed it. Peter could be a wild card at times, my mother and stepfather didn't approve of him. Within the confines of our classroom, no one could find the rumor to whisper in the steward's ear. Out here, in the public eye, Peter's presence could draw unwanted attention.

"Just don't stir up any trouble." I said.

Peter cocked his head and gave a mischievous grin. "Trouble? Me?"

He knew what I meant.

"Nora, Myrtle was dismissed ten years ago. I don't think your parents want to hurt you. They didn't realize how much it would upset you."

He was lying. Whenever he started a sentence with my name, whatever followed was a lie. Myrtle was the first maid I had at the castle, before Peter and Sarah. A chubby midlife woman who didn't lecture me for wetting the sheets or crying without reason. Myrtle was dismissed to punish me, and Peter knew it.

Peter sat on the edge of his desk to look at me. "I can't promise everything will be fine, that everything will stay the same. But I can promise that you will always find your way."

I wanted to believe him, but I am nothing but my mother's old baggage, a remnant of a mistake Bella made as a teenager. The "something" she left at her parent's house when she met the steward. The item she packed up and took with her from the fifth region of Hell when she moved into the castle. I should have considered myself lucky with my rags-to-riches story, but I'm an ungrateful child.

My mother found her happily-ever-after. Away from my grandparents with their rules and judgments, far from the fifth region, where zealots burned the heretics. The ruler of Hell had whisked Mother away from all her troubles all but one.

Sarah rushed into the classroom. Her dark hair was wrapped ornately around her head, and she was wearing a blue velvet dress today. It looked nice on her; it matched her icy blue eyes and the coolness of her skin.

"It's time for supper," she said.

The three of us ate together at the small wooden table in my bedroom while Peter read poetry and funny short stories from the castle library. The rain tapped against the glass of my window that overlooked the garden. It only added to Peter's poetry reading.

Sarah never showed any interest in this ritual. I didn't typically laugh, but if I liked something, I would make a comment. Sarah's cold demeanor was mostly ignored. It wasn't that she was uncaring, Sarah simply did not express herself outwardly. Peter never asked me to change, so I didn't expect it of Sarah.

"Are we planning on going to the market tomorrow?" Sarah asked.

"Seems so," Peter said. "Are you going to get permission from the steward?"

Sarah nodded. "There have been reports of some strange activity at the border."

I knew what they were talking about. The borders of the seven regions that divided Hell were coming undone. No one knew why. The steward had doubled patrols, but it wasn't helping. More than ever, the souls of the seventh region were escaping and attacking the rest of the population.

Peter shook his head. "Outlanders roaming around the first region unchecked."

"Choose your words carefully," Sarah said.

Peter pushed his plate away and wiped his face with his napkin. His long, wrinkled fingers clawed around the napkin, balling it up before throwing it onto his plate.

"Until tomorrow, then," Peter said. "Goodnight, Nora." He winked.

When I stepped outside the room the next morning, I only saw a tracker. His soft leather uniform was covered with a chainmail vest. The vest not only served to protect the hunter, but it also allowed his hawk to perch on his shoulder without damaging his leather. The patch on his chest indicated he was a hawk hunter, but his bird was likely roosting in the barracks.

His gray eyes shifted nervously in my presence. "Where is Peter?" I asked. "He's gone."

"Where did he go?"

"He's just gone."

I didn't like the way the man answered me, but it wasn't his fault. He was likely instructed to answer this way. "Should I go ask my stepfather?" I asked.

I received no reply.

That night, I insisted on having dinner with Mother and Vinicio. My wish was greeted with opposition from my mother, whose eyes watered right away, knowing why I was intruding on her romantic dinner. If Vinicio understood why I attended, he didn't show it.

He motioned to a chair at the long dining table. "Please, join us, Nora." The food was extravagantly displayed in heaps. The massive fireplace gave the entire stone room a soft glow. The table had a red and black embroidered runner, and fruits were stacked in glossy wooden bowls. A giant roasted boar was in the center of the long wooden table. Mother was wearing a red ball gown, her full skirt overflowing in her seat. She was wearing a little red hat with a veil pinned to her curly blonde hair. She had cut her hair since I'd last seen her; it was now bouncing freely just below her chin.

"You've grown into quite the young lady," Vinicio said. He picked up several vegetables with his fork before placing them in his mouth.

"Funny how that happens."

"Nora, please don't," Bella pleaded.

"I wouldn't be here, upsetting your dinner, if you hadn't dismissed my tutor," I told her.

"I'm sorry we didn't talk to you about it first," Vinicio said. "But you're a young lady now, and you need a more mature teacher. You've outgrown him, my dear."