Soul Crossed Read online

  Soul Crossed

  Of Angels and Demons

  Book 1

  By Lisa Gail Green

  Dedication

  Dad, this one’s for you. Your enthusiasm means the world.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1: Josh

  Chapter 2: Grace

  Chapter 3: Josh

  Chapter 4: Grace

  Chapter 5: Josh

  Chapter 6: Grace

  Chapter 7: Josh

  Chapter 8: Grace

  Chapter 9: Josh

  Chapter 10: Grace

  Chapter 11: Josh

  Chapter 12: Grace

  Chapter 13: Josh

  Chapter 14: Grace

  Chapter 15: Josh

  Chapter 16: Grace

  Chapter 17: Josh

  Chapter 18: Grace

  Chapter 19: Josh

  Chapter 20: Grace

  Chapter 21: Josh

  Chapter 22: Grace

  Chapter 23: Josh

  Chapter 24: Grace

  Chapter 25: Josh

  Chapter 26: Grace

  Chapter 27: Josh

  Chapter 28: Grace

  Chapter 29: Josh

  Chapter 30: Grace

  Chapter 31: Josh

  Chapter 32: Grace

  Chapter 33: Josh

  Chapter 34: Grace

  Chapter 35: Josh

  Chapter 36: Grace

  Chapter 37: Josh

  Chapter 38: Grace

  Chapter 39: Josh

  Chapter 40: Grace

  Chapter 41: Josh

  Chapter 42: Grace

  Chapter 43: Josh

  Chapter 44: Grace

  Chapter 45: Josh

  Chapter 46: Grace

  Chapter 47: Josh

  Chapter 48: Grace

  Chapter 49: Josh

  Chapter 50: Grace

  Chapter 51: Josh

  Chapter 52: Grace

  Chapter 53: Josh

  Chapter 54: Grace

  Chapter 55: Josh

  Chapter 56: Grace

  Chapter 57: Josh

  Chapter 58: Grace

  Chapter 59: Josh

  Chapter 60: Grace

  Chapter 61: Josh

  Chapter 62: Grace

  Chapter 63: Josh

  Chapter 64: Grace

  Chapter 65: Josh

  Chapter 66: Grace

  Chapter 67: Grace

  Chapter 68: Josh

  Chapter 69: Grace

  Soul Corrupted Teaser

  About the Author

  Acknowledgements

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Josh

  Hell looks like Death Valley.

  That’s my first thought as I realize I’m standing in the center of a vast expanse of hard, flat ground, cracks running like claw marks as far as I can see. Blinding light surrounds me, and I throw my arm over my head in an attempt to shut it out. It’s blisteringly hot. I’m sure this is Hell because the last thing I remember is getting behind the wheel in a suburb outside Seattle with a blood alcohol level that must have registered somewhere between head-in-the-toilet and comatose.

  In the distance I hear screams like someone’s being tortured. I spin in place trying to locate the sound, but there’s only wind. I lick my lips, already chapped from the heat, and start to move. The direction doesn’t matter—anywhere is better than here. But after twenty minutes filled with distant, intermittent shrieks of terror, I realize I’m getting nowhere fast.

  I fall to my knees and lower my head to the ground. I’m thirsty, I’m exhausted, I’m scared, and I’m pretty sure I’m dead. I take a deep breath, nearly choking on the sand, and stand up, dusting off my jeans.

  “Well you finally got your wish, Josh,” I say out loud. My voice echoes all around.

  “Why would you ever wish for this?” It’s a drawling male voice that speaks in my ear, and it makes me shiver like ice has just been poured down my shirt. I turn open-mouthed toward the man behind me.

  “Joshua Gaynes,” he says, placing an arm around my shoulder with a dangerous smile. “Have I got a proposition for you.”

  The man smells like my dad trying to cover up after an all night bender—too much Old Spice. He appears middle-aged with salt and pepper hair. He’s dressed in a pinstripe suit, and his shoes look freshly shined. But the thing I notice most are his eyes, dark and intense. They make me uncomfortable.

  He hands me a glass of ice-cold lemonade with a tiny purple umbrella and a swirly-straw. I’m sure he didn’t have it a moment ago, but I take it eagerly, throw the straw and umbrella to the ground, and guzzle. When I’m done, I wipe my mouth with the back of my arm and see that he’s still standing there with that awful grin, watching me like I’m a dog who’s just performed a good trick.

  “Where am I?” I have many questions, but I start with this one.

  “Where do you think you are?”

  “I don’t need therapy, I need an explanation.”

  He stares.

  “Hell,” I guess.

  “Clever. How old were you? Seventeen?”

  “Yeah, that’s right. Wait. Were?”

  “You don’t think you could still be alive if you’re here, do you? I’m counting on you being smarter than that, Joshua.”

  “So I really am…” I can’t bring myself to finish.

  “Dead? Oh, yes. Irrevocably. And you haven’t exactly been the poster child for goodness, have you, my boy?”

  I swallow hard. “So what happens now?” I ask when I’m able to speak.

  “That, Joshua, is up to you.”

  “So I get a second chance?” That’s good news. Could I manage it? I try to picture it. I’ve always taken the easy way out, and I’m not so sure I could cut it as “good guy” material.

  “No. No second chances I’m afraid. Not in my territory. There’s only a choice. Eternal torture—” He pauses while the screams in the distance reach a crescendo, “—or you do me a favor.”

  “A favor?”

  “That’s right. Now, I’m not saying it will be easy. But I believe once you have considered the alternative, you will find it most reasonable.” He offers me another lemonade.

  “Do people really choose…that?” I ask, pointing into the distance.

  “Not everyone has an option.”

  Did his eyes just flash red? “What’s so special about me?”

  “Not everyone has your charm, your quick wit, or your looks. You’d be surprised how many things people will do for someone as handsome as you.”

  No. I wouldn’t. That’s probably why I’m here.

  “What do I have to do?” I ask, accepting the drink.

  “’Atta boy, Joshua. I knew you’d see it my way.”

  There’s no mistaking the red glow in his eyes this time.

  Chapter 2

  Grace

  Heaven is far colder than I expected. You would think since it’s paradise and all, they might have better climate control. I wrap my arms around myself and step forward through the mass of clouds billowing around my feet. I shiver, and then I have an unwelcome thought: What if this isn’t Heaven? I look around, suspicious, but if any of the traditional stories are true this has got to be it. Huge pearly white gates, taller than a skyscraper in Manhattan; men and women dressed in flowing golden robes ushering all manner of lost people around with kind smiles. I wonder where my escort is. I have to find someone so I can explain—

  “Gracelyn Howard?” A woman’s high-pitched voice calls from behind me, and I turn toward the sound of my name.

  She is plump with rosy, cherubic cheeks and short, curly brown hair that bounces as she nods expectantly. She’s dressed in the golden robes, except hers have a silvery trim that crisscrosses over
her ample bosom. She looks understanding enough.

  “Hello,” I say. My voice cracks unexpectedly, and she grins even wider. “There’s been some sort of mistake.”

  “Oh, no. I’m afraid not, my dear.” The understanding in her eyes is a sudden annoyance. Like what I’m saying is typical. Well, maybe it is, but I have to say it anyway. I have to try.

  “I’m only sixteen,” I say, trying a different tact.

  “So sad. But don’t you worry, Gracelyn, your family will receive the highest attention from The Man Himself.” She winks.

  “Isn’t there anything—” I begin.

  “No, my dear. But it’s not as bad as you think. You have a special calling, Gracelyn.”

  “Call me Grace,” I say, hating the sound of my full name from this woman’s lips. Like she’s my mother. Shouldn’t the greeters in Heaven be trained in grief counseling or something? She’s acting more like the obnoxious substitute I had last week in Physics.

  “Grace, then.” She smiles as though I’ve somehow accepted her words and steps forward, looking around conspiratorially. “And you may call me Ms. Alvarez. You, Grace, have an opportunity that not everyone gets. You have the chance to become an Angel.” She bites her lower lip after the last word, opening her eyes wide like a madwoman. I guess she expects me to get excited.

  “I wanted to be a writer,” I say.

  Her face falls for a moment before she recovers. “Well, this is perfect, then. You will have the power to help write the future of humankind.” The words send shivers down my back. Me? I can’t imagine that kind of responsibility. The last thing I remember is walking home from the party with my friend Emily and the squeal of tires on asphalt, those headlights streaming toward me.

  “How did this happen?” I ask as tears begin to leak from my eyes. I hate crying in front of people, but I can hardly help it. My body is rocked with a sudden and fierce quaking as though all my muscles are in protest. Ms. Alvarez looks beside herself.

  “Now, now. You’ll scare the others,” she scolds, gesturing toward a little girl of no more than eight. I try to stifle the sobs but find it difficult.

  “An Angel?” I ask. I don’t sound much older than the girl, who looks like a frightened lamb and clutches the hand of another golden-robed person. Her greeter is kneeling beside her now, focused and silent. Listening while the little girl speaks. I shift my gaze back to my own escort and do my best to choke back the tears and the wish that I could trade places. That kind of thought can’t be worthy of Heaven, right?

  “Oh, yes,” Ms. Alvarez is saying. “But not a full Angel, of course. No, that will come with time. You must first save a soul before you earn your wings.” She wears an expression of rapture at the thought of it, and I wonder whether the wings are literal. I don’t see any on her.

  “Save a soul?” I ask. “I want to go home. Please, just give me another chance.”

  She smiles and places an arm around my shoulder, brushing my hair to the side. “Poor Grace. There is no undoing what happened. Choices were made. People were hurt. All we can do now is make the best of the situation.”

  I’ll never see my family again. I sink to my knees, barely registering the spongy feel of the ground beneath me.

  “Why don’t we go somewhere a little more private?” Ms. Alvarez places a hand on my head, and the little girl, now smiling through a sniffle, disappears from view.

  Chapter 3

  Josh

  I sink back into Lucifer’s overstuffed, leather sofa, buzzed from chugging my third can of ice cold beer. I figure it can’t kill me again. If this is Hell, the people on Earth have it all bass-ackwards, ’cause this is my idea of Heaven.

  “Lucifer,” I say, as he sits in the matching armchair, “you have a seriously bad rap.” He’s regarding me with his unnerving eyes, but I’ll handle it if it means this kind of treatment.

  “I think it’s pretty accurate,” he says, a little too calmly. “My methods can be harsh, but I use them all for the right reasons. And you’ll find that when you do as I say, I can be quite accommodating.”

  I find a fresh beer in the built-in cup-holder to my left, which I raise in a toast before gulping down the amber liquid. “You’re the boss.”

  “Yes, Joshua. I am. So let’s get started on your training. The task I have for you cannot be underestimated.”

  I furrow my eyebrows, trying to focus. “What am I supposed to do?”

  “I need you to secure a soul for me. A very important soul. The soul.”

  “THE soul?” I repeat.

  Lucifer stands, tugging on his suit jacket, which hasn’t moved an inch out of place. “There is a soul on the brink. You need to push it over the edge, so that the prophecies can finally come to pass.”

  “Prophecies?”

  “The time I’ve been waiting for for millennia. My time.”

  I try to shake off some of the cloudiness in my brain and put the beer back in the cup-holder. “You mean, like Armageddon?”

  He smiles, crimson eyes dancing with tiny flames, and I find myself burrowing further into the leather. “Yes. Something like that.”

  “So…you want me to find the Antichrist?” I ask, waiting for him to tell me there’s no such thing. That shit can’t be real. Even though, somehow, this shit is real.

  “Oh, I’ve already found the likely candidate. You just have to make sure he gives into his true nature. It should be easy for you. Simply give him a taste of the finer things in life, and let him know there’s nothing wrong with taking what he wants. You know all about that.”

  I swallow. My mouth is suddenly dry. “So…it’s all real? I mean, the Bible—”

  Lucifer laughs, which sends more chills down the back of my neck. I shake it off.

  “Human belief is real, Joshua. When that belief is strong enough and pure enough, it becomes real.”

  I’m having trouble following, and I guess my face gives it away because Lucifer scoots closer and changes the subject.

  “The point is that you must claim his soul for me. I’ll worry about the rest. You’ll find your powers make it even easier.” He snaps and suddenly I’m stumbling next to him, back in the no-man’s land where we first met. This time there’s someone else there, too. A girl. She’s about my age, and she’s sobbing, snot running down an otherwise pretty face as she clutches her arms around herself.

  “Test subject number one,” Lucifer says. “Make her stop crying.”

  “But how?” I ask. I’m usually good at getting girls to do what I want, but she doesn’t look like she’s in the mood.

  “Glamour. Make eye contact, and focus with your mind. Simply will the human to do what you want.”

  Will? OK. I step toward the girl, who looks like she’s about to run, so I stop a few feet away and put out a hand. “Hey, it’s OK. Don’t be scared. I’m not gonna hurt you. Just look at me, OK?”

  She glances up with glassy dark eyes, and that’s enough. I feel it. I feel the connection and once it’s there, she’s caught like a fly in a web.

  “Stop crying.”

  The tears cease, as does the shaking.

  “Whoa. That was amazing.” Better than a buzz.

  Lucifer gestures to the girl, who now watches me, wiping at her face with an arm. “What’s your name?” I ask.

  “Amber,” she says.

  “Why are you here?” I ask.

  “I hurt people and stole to pay for drugs.” She opens her arms, and I see the needle tracks of a heroin addict. They’re the same as the ones etched in my dad last time I saw him. Before my drunken bender. Too bad he’s not the one here instead.

  I feel sick.

  “She deserves punishment, don’t you think, Joshua?” Lucifer whispers over my shoulder. “Tell her to keep walking until she finds water. Tell her she’s thirsty.”

  I remember the lemonade he offered me when I arrived and how amazing it felt. I hesitate.

  “Do it.”

  Blue flame bursts out of Lucifer’s hand as
I turn, I throw my arms over my face. The pain forces me to my knees. I’m sure my skin is now made of white hot blisters, but before I finish my first scream, it’s stopped. No more pain. No sign of as much as a sunburn on my arms.

  I guess I’m taking too long.

  “You’re thirsty,” I say, standing and catching Amber’s eyes again, my voice shaky. “Really thirsty. And you need to keep walking until you find water.”

  She tugs at her throat and stumbles off into the distance without another word while Lucifer hands me a lemonade.

  “Next is strength training,” he says.

  She’s in Hell, I tell myself. She was going to suffer anyway, whether I was the one to do it or not.

  Chapter 4

  Grace

  Ms. Alvarez apparently lives in a classroom, complete with a teacher’s desk, a Smart Board, and one empty desk for her class.

  Me.

  I’m sure it’s not always a classroom. That’s probably for my benefit. It’s easy to refurnish. I know because I have a room of my own. All I have to do is want something bad enough, and it will change.