Read the First Chapter of A Soul’s Awakening

I didn’t come to the underworld to deliver pizza. But if trading slices and contraband magic got me the information I needed about Ren, then I’d happily play the part.

“This one goes to 415 Cedar Ave.” Bosco boxed up the pizza and slid it across the counter in my direction. “Let’s hope this guy tips better with information than he does cash. Stingy bastard stiffed the last delivery guy so bad that he got fed up and never came back.”

Bosco dragged a clean towel across his face, brushing away flour as the bright overhead lights revealed the sheen of sweat on his red-tinted skin and the dull glow of his orange eyes. A black bandana hid his demon horns and kept his short ebony hair out of his face.

I dropped two garlic knots into a paper bag. A small amber bottle followed, the magic I imbued in it strong enough to dissolve a ghost’s very essence, a true death they could never return from. I tried not to think about it, but after two months of scouring the underworld with no leads on Ren, I was desperate to try anything.

I grabbed my winter coat and bundled myself up with a pair of gloves and a hat. “I have a good feeling about this guy,” I whispered to Bosco, the words fragile and unsteady as they left me. I looked up at the shop owner. “Hey Bosco … Thank you. For everything. I know getting caught working with a living human in the underworld is punishable by banishment. Not to mention letting me deliver this,” I coughed, “ stuff. If a rift warden ever found out—”

Bosco slammed the top of a metal container shut. “Nonsense, Theo! Jacob is a good friend of mine. I trust him with my life, and I know you mean well. Besides, you’re doing me a favor, too. I don’t have enough help, and I’m not exactly paying you a fair wage, so … Don’t worry about me. Just find your friend.”

I smiled at the demon ghost. I owed Bosco more than I could ever offer. Despite knowing the risk, he kept me safe and protected my secret. Since my credit cards and cash didn’t exactly work in the underworld, he even paid me a small wage and gave me a place to stay while I searched for Ren. He reminded me a lot of Mr. Carson, a struggling demon managing a run-down pizza joint with grease-stained floors and the same worn, quiet endurance that always made me feel a little sad and a little proud at the same time.

As I pushed the door open and stepped outside, a sharp wind cut through my coat, stinging my cheeks with the bite of winter. Holding the pizza in one hand, I pressed my fingertips to my lips, then fanned them outward. I shaped the familiar word in the air as heat flared in response, warmth chasing away the chill. It was one of the first sign language spells my sister taught me, and one I used frequently on pizza deliveries as I puttered around Salem on a scooter in the dead of winter.

The underworld, the realm known as the Nether, was an exact copy of the living world. Not a twisted version of it, not some distorted reflection, but this place looked like Salem itself, repeated and placed beneath a colder, darker, more ominous sky.

Frost clung to the edges of buildings. The sun sank low over exposed brick, bleeding out the last of its light. The streets were familiar enough to make my stomach tighten, every corner and storefront almost right, but not quite. The surrounding ghosts weren’t bothered by it. They moved through it like it was nothing, talking and laughing and going about their evening routines as if they were back in the world of the living.

“Where to this time, boss?” Jacob was leaning against the side of the building waiting for me. He pushed off, walking over to nudge me with his elbow, something he’d never have been able to do as a ghost in the human realm. Honestly, here I couldn’t even tell he was a ghost. His messy brown hair stuck up in chaotic tufts, with tiny black horns peaking through. He had traded in the beach shorts and flip-flops for a heavy winter coat and worn jeans. His skin was a rosy pink thanks to the cold, and his eerie blue eyes caught the evening sun like polished glass, gleaming with a mischievous warmth.

I frowned at him, guilt swelling in my chest. Day in and out, he was transporting me to and from the living world, sneaking me in every time. He had to have been exhausted, and I wasn’t going to make it worse by forcing him to be my personal taxi to deliver pizza. “Maybe we should walk this one. It’s only a couple of blocks.” I turned and started walking, Jacob forced to hurry behind me and follow.

“You know I don’t mind—”

“But I do!” I snapped, then lowered my voice. “Your contract is with Ivy, not me. I appreciate you helping me out, but I’m not going to abuse your magic.”

Jacob sniffed, tucking his fingers into the pockets of his jeans. “The only reason I even still have magic is because of Ivy. You know the dead are supposed to give up their magic when they enter the underworld. Because I already had a contract with Ivy that involved the use of my magic, I was allowed to keep it. The rift wardens made a special exception for me.” He gave me a satisfying smirk.

“But they won’t for me,” I reminded him. My eyes slipped closed as I exhaled, the breath leaving me shaky, like even that small effort cost more than I had left.

Jacob was fidgeting. His fingers kept catching on the zipper of his jacket, tugging it up and down while his teeth worried at his bottom lip. His gaze flicked from storefront to alleyway to the street ahead, never settling, like he was searching for the right moment to say something and coming up short every time.

“Just spit it out.”

We rounded the corner before he finally found the nerve to speak.

“Okay … Theo … hear me out. Don’t get mad at me, but I have to ask. Why are you even doing this? I mean, you knew Ren for like two weeks before he vanished, and … after what you told me he did to your family? All the pain he put you through? Why are you so determined to risk your life to go after him? It’s been two months and we don’t have a single lead. When are you going to give up? I mean, there’s a good chance that he’s—”

“He’s not dead.” I stopped walking, planting my feet firmly on the sidewalk and shooting Jacob a sharp glare. He held up his hands in a sheepish, apologetic gesture. “I’m not giving up until I find him. Ren … yeah, he’s not perfect. He made mistakes. But he walked through that portal to the underworld and sacrificed himself so that I wouldn’t fall into the hands of the Syndicate. He didn’t hesitate to blow his undercover identity as James Whitfield to save me when that succubus attacked. For once, someone needs to step up and do something for him. I know he’s here somewhere, and he needs my help. If you don’t want to keep following me around, I understand, but I’m doing this with or without you.”

“Okay, okay! Sorry, bro!” Jacob’s shoulders relaxed. “It’s just … Do I need to remind you that you’re not actually supposed to be here? The rift wardens have been out in full force lately. And even though your death magic allows you to move more freely here, look at you, Theo. You look like shit. The atmosphere here is different, and it sucks the magic out of you. You still need to go back to the living realm to recover but you rarely do.”

“You don’t think I know that?” I lowered my voice as a rift warden in a black uniform passed by us across the street. He was fiddling with the black ring on his finger, a magic object capable of apprehending both the living and the dead. I had seen one of them use it once on a poor mother who snuck into the underworld to see her child. Silver chains had squeezed her limbs, and it looked both uncomfortable and extremely painful.

“I need to find him.” I rubbed my chest through my thick jacket, wondering what Ren was doing with my soul at this very moment. Jacob was right, of course. Dark circles shadowed my eyes from too little sleep, the bright blue of my irises dulled by exhaustion. Some days, I was so drained I could barely get out of bed.

I let the anger fade from my voice. “Let’s just drop it and get this pizza delivered before it gets too late. I want to head to the bar tonight to see if anyone’s heard anything new.” 

The conversation hung heavy between us, thicker than the air itself. In the Nether, ghosts had learned to channel magic through objects, their innate power no longer available to them. It made my unique potions invaluable here. But I was still alive and tethered to a body that didn’t belong here, even with my death magic and the faint pulse of Caspian’s magic shielding me. The realm drained me anyway, piece by piece. Calling it grueling didn’t come close. It was a slow death by devotion, and I couldn’t stop.

Jacob and I continued our walk in silence, the busy sidewalks thinning out the further into the residential area we went. We passed several rift wardens looking for trouble patrolling the streets. They were like the death police, making sure the dead stayed dead and any intruders trying to sneak in were dealt with. Some were just trying to visit loved ones, but other more sinister motives involved settling unfinished business and transporting illegal magic, exactly like what I was doing.

“We’re here.” I pulled out the piece of torn paper from my pocket, reading the scribbled address on it to make sure I was at the right place.

“Theo, I have a bad feeling about this. Something’s not right.” Jacob’s gaze nervously darted around the street.

I had felt it too, that unease of someone eyeing me from the shadows. Caspian’s magic was stirring in the pit of my stomach, wary and alert. It had been doing that frequently since the man’s dying act was to forcefully pass it onto me. He’d said to me once that it was sentient, that it had a mind of its own … and I was starting to believe him. It didn’t just react. It noticed, and it pressed against my ribs now, coiling tighter, like it had already found something in the dark and didn’t like what it saw.

The two-story house was more modern looking than most Salem homes, with faded gray siding and symmetrical windows placed throughout the boxy structure. Set close to the sidewalk, there wasn’t much of a front lawn, but a few dead potted plants lined the stairs leading up to the bright red door.

I exhaled a deep breath, walking up the few steps to knock. The weak porch light flipped on, and the door slowly opened. I stood there holding the cardboard box in both hands, awaiting further instructions.

“You got what I asked for?”

I couldn’t fully see the man, but I knew he was tall. His voice came low through the narrow gap, deep and gravelly. The door stayed barely open, just enough for one eye and the edge of his face to catch the weak porch light. Everything else was swallowed in shadow.

“Yeah,” I said, pushing the box toward him. “Large, extra—”

“Hold it up.”

Panic rippled down my spine. The words weren’t rude. They were precise.

I hesitated for half a second before raising the box to the crack in the door. The man leaned closer, his gaze dragging over it, then past it. It lingered somewhere around my hands, my chest. Not looking at the food. Looking at me.

That prickle along my spine sharpened. Behind me, Jacob shifted, barely audible, but I felt the tension snap tight between us. 

The man inhaled slowly, like he was testing the air. “You didn’t come alone. Why does it take two people to deliver a pizza?”

“He transported me here,” I said, a little too quickly. Jacob huffed behind me, and I realized my mistake too late. While I didn’t specifically mention his magic, it was strongly implied he could use it. Even if he wasn’t using it illegally, it wasn’t something to flaunt around.

Silence stretched. It was late evening, the streets swallowed in darkness even though it was barely six. The man shifted behind the door. Something in the shadows seemed to move with him, but not quite matching his movements. For a split second, I could have sworn there was more than one set of eyes staring out from the dark. Then he stepped forward, blocking the gap, and it was gone.

Caspian’s magic twisted hard in my gut. The door creaked wider.

His hand slid into view first, long fingers curling around the edge of the door as he pulled it open just enough for the light to catch him properly. Pale skin. Stillness. So many scars I couldn’t tell where one ended and another started.

And then I saw it. A black ring, smooth and unmarked, wrapped around his slender finger like it had grown there.

Everything in me dropped.

Caspian’s magic surged, violent and immediate, slamming against my ribs like it was trying to drag me backward.

Rift Warden. This man who requested a death potion and a pepperoni pizza from me … was a rift warden.

“You can call me Leo.”

My grip tightened on the box, pulse spiking so hard it blurred the edges of my vision. 

Don’t react. Don’t run, I warned myself. But the way his gaze snapped back to mine as he silently invited me inside told me it was already too late.