Rachel Vincent - With All My Soul

Ending any series is hard. Ending this series has been particularly hard for me, both creatively and emotionally. Ive been working with Kaylee and her friends and family since January of 2008. Weve been through seven novels, two anthology short stories and several novellas together. Kaylee and the gang have lived in three different houses with me, in three different states. Ive spent more time in the Soul Screamers world than in either of my adult series to date.

Saying goodbye has been bittersweet. But Kaylee has grown up, and Ive grown up a little bit with her, I think.

This book is dedicated to Kaylee, whos suffered through so much for our entertainment. Shes been a good sporta fighter to the endand it has been my pleasure to finally give her the happy ending she deserves. (Dont peek! I promise, youll hate yourself for it later.)

And

This book is dedicated to every reader whos ever written to ask me for a release date, a spoiler or a snippet of the text. My words may have brought Kaylee to life, but your interest kept her going.

Thank you all.

I used to hate the fact that my world is built on half-truths, held together with white lies. My life itself is an illusion requiring constant effort to maintain. I lie better than almost anyone Ive ever met. But if I know the truth about anything, its this: when people say the devil is in the details, they have no idea how right they are....

It was a nice service, right? My best friend, Emma, smoothed the front of her simple black dress, both brows furrowed in doubt. She shifted her weight to her right foot and her heel sank half an inch into the soft ground. I mean, as far as funerals go, it could have been worse. People cried. She shrugged, staring out at the slowly departing crowd. This would have been awkward if no one had cried.

It was awkward anyway. Funerals are always awkward, especially in my social circle, where the definition of death is under constant reevaluation.

It was a lovely service, Em. I watched as people fled the open grave in slow-motion retreat, eager to be gone but reluctant to let it show. There were teachers, shell-shocked but in control, looking out of place without their desks and whiteboards. Parents, looking helpless and scared. Classmates in dark dresses, black slacks, and uncomfortable shoes, most in the same clothes theyd worn to the past few funerals.

We were all much too familiar with the routine by now. Whispered names and details. A day off for mourning. Excused absences for the viewing. Counselors on call for grieving students during every class period. And finally, the funeral, where we said goodbye to yet another classmate most of us had known for most of our lives.

I was one of those whod cried, even though I was among the few who knew that the star of the showthe recently deceased herselfwas actually still with us. Right next to me, in fact. A guest at her own funeral.

Sabine leaned closer, Nashs hand clasped in her right one, because her left was still encased in a cast. A curtain of thick, dark hair fell over half her face, shielding her from most of the thinning crowd. So, seeing yourself in a coffin wasnt awkward? Cause it was awkward for me, and Im not the one being buried today.

Oh, no, the viewing was totally horrible, Em admitted, her brown eyes wide. Those eyes were all that was left of her, other than her soul. Everything else was Lydias. Thin, angular face. Petite bones and slim build, similar to my own. Limp brown hair. Freckles. Feet that didnt quite fit into Ems favorite pair of shoes, stolen from her own closet while her mother and sisters shopped for her casket. But the funeral itselfthat was nice, dont you think?

It was, as it damn well should have been. Em had left funeral detailsin her own handwritingin an envelope on her vanity table the day wed picked up her shoes and a few other essentials. Once Ms. Marshall was thinking clearly, shed probably wonder why her seventeen-year-old daughter had given so much thought to how she wanted to be buried, but grief had eclipsed her skepticism at least long enough to arrange the funeral of her daughtersalbeit morbiddreams.

It was beautiful, Em, Tod whispered, and I glanced up to find him standing next to me, where thered been only damp grass a second before. It took more self-control than Id known I had to keep from throwing my arms around him and trying to melt into him, which had recently replaced hoping for world peace as my new favorite impossible task.

I couldnt throw myself at him because most people couldnt see him. Reapers are sneaky that way.

Beyond that, I couldnt indulge in an embrace from my boyfriendthat word felt so inadequatebecause today wasnt about comforting me. It was about burying Emma. Being there for her.

And planning vengeance. Justice for Em and for everyone else Avari and his fellow hellions had possessed, tortured, or taken from us. Today was about plotting retribution for Emmas boyfriend. And for Lydia, and for Sabines foster mother, and for Brant, Nashs baseball teammate.

And for Alec.

My hand twitched at the thought of him, as if I still held the dagger. I could almost smell the blood. I could still see him in my mind, one of my few real friends, his eyes filled with pain and confusion, staring up at me in fear. Until theyd stared at nothing.

I swallowed my anger at Avari and what hed taken from us, determined to avoid ruining Emmas perfect funeral with the bellow of rage itching to burst free from me.

Today was a new start for Em, and a new start for us all. We could no longer afford to be victims in Avaris quest to walk the human world. Beginning today, we were soldiers. Warriors, battle-weary and not yet focused, but warriors nonetheless.

Warriors, at least for the moment, in black formal funeral attire. All except for Tod, who could wear whatever he wanted because no one other than the five of us could see him.

I started to take his hand, hoping no one would notice such a small motion, but then Emma made a soft, strangling sound and I looked up to see her staring ahead, frozen like a deer in mortal danger.

Her mother was heading straight for us.

Kaylee, thank you so much for coming. Ms. Marshall sniffled and reached for my hand, and her tears triggered more of my own. Thank you all. She glanced at everyone but Tod, whom she couldnt see, and when her gaze lingered for a second on her own daughter, hidden behind a strangers face, Emma burst into fresh sobs.

We wouldnt have missed it, Ms. Marshall, Nash said, while I wrapped one arm around Emma.

Sabine stared at us both. The funeral hadnt upset her at all, that I could see, and she obviously didnt understand why it had bothered us, beyond the lie we were telling the world, since Emma was still alive and mostly well.

Thank you. Ms. Marshall sniffled again, and she didnt seem to notice that her own heels were sinking into the soft earth. I know Emma would be happy if she could see you all here now.

Em sobbed harder.

Im sorry, I dont believe weve met. Ms. Marshall dabbed her eyes with a damp tissue and held one hand out to her own daughter.

Emma cleared her throat and shook her mothers hand. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out.

This is my cousin. Emily, I said. Shes just lost her parents, so shell be staying with me and my dad. That was the best story we could come up with. It was heavy on coincidence, but just as heavy on necessityEm had to live somewhere, now that shed lost everything shed ever had. Except for us.

Ms. Marshalls expression crumbled beneath a new layer of sympathetic grief, and her voice shook. Im so sorry for your loss, Emily.

But if Em heard her, I couldnt tell.