Soul Corrupted

  Soul Corrupted

  Of Demons and Angels

  Book 2

  By Lisa Gail Green

  To Joe, for teaching me what true love means.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1: Grace

  Chapter 2: Keira

  Chapter 3: Josh

  Chapter 4: Grace

  Chapter 5: Keira

  Chapter 6: Josh

  Chapter 7: Grace

  Chapter 8: Keira

  Chapter 9: Josh

  Chapter 10: Grace

  Chapter 11: Keira

  Chapter 12: Josh

  Chapter 13: Grace

  Chapter 14: Keira

  Chapter 15: Josh

  Chapter 16: Grace

  Chapter 17: Keira

  Chapter 18: Josh

  Chapter 19: Grace

  Chapter 20: Keira

  Chapter 21: Josh

  Chapter 22: Grace

  Chapter 23: Keira

  Chapter 24: Noah

  Chapter 25: Josh

  Chapter 26: Grace

  Chapter 27: Keira

  Chapter 28: Josh

  Chapter 29: Grace

  Chapter 30: Keira

  Chapter 31: Josh

  Chapter 32: Grace

  Chapter 33: Keira

  Chapter 34: Josh

  Chapter 35: Grace

  Chapter 36: Keira

  Chapter 37: Josh

  Chapter 38: Grace

  Chapter 39: Keira

  Chapter 40: Josh

  About the Author

  Acknowledgments

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Grace

  The cold air whispers past, turning my tears to icy droplets against my cheeks. Still, I remain motionless before the words etched in the granite stone. I’ve stared so long that they’ve become nothing but a meaningless jumble of lines and squiggles. I don’t want to move for fear they will right themselves again.

  Josh’s hand in mine is my one source of warmth and strength. He squeezes, patient as the Angel he is. He knows how difficult it is for me, visiting my own grave.

  Finally, I slip my hand from his and kneel on the ground, which still isn’t completely grown over with grass. My fingers trace the years on the stone: 1998–2014. It’s such a short time to have lived my life.

  I squeeze my eyelids shut, releasing the built-up moisture that blurs my vision, then notice something set at the base of the stone. I tentatively reach to retrieve it, trembling as I hold up a small shell.

  Josh kneels next to me, folding me into his arms and pressing his lips to the top of my head. He always knows what I need.

  “It’s beautiful,” he says into my hair.

  I swallow so I can force the words past the swelling in my throat. “Noah and I found it on the beach in Vancouver when I was ten and he was nine. We argued about who got to keep it. I just thought it was pretty, but Noah was convinced it had magic powers.” The smile tugging at my mouth feels unnatural and stiff, like my skin is turning to stone. “Mom said she saw me find it first, and Noah got mad and kicked at something in the sand. He fell and twisted his ankle. I gave him the shell and told him he had the power to make it better. I still remember how he threw his arms around me.”

  “Huh. A nice gesture from the kid.” Josh kisses my hair again and stands, offering me a hand.

  I try to ignore the sarcasm in his voice—it isn’t like it’s unfounded. Josh has no memories of Noah, and has only seen his actions lately. But it’s nearly impossible not to defend my brother. Maybe I could laugh it off if my family was getting along all right. But from everything I’ve seen on my visits, they’re falling to pieces.

  Time to change the subject.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to see yours?” I ask, turning toward the rolling hills and the rest of the uniform graves. We died at the same time in the same place, so his grave is probably here, too.

  “I doubt my dad sprang for this place,” he says with a laugh, but I can hear the edge in his voice. “Besides—being with you now, in Heaven? That’s what I call living. That’s all I want.”

  This time I smile, slipping the shell into my pocket and entwining my fingers with his. “Then let’s go back. We should get to work, and I’ve had enough self-torture for today.”

  I concentrate and the warm bubble of light envelopes us both. When Ms. Alvarez used to transport me this way, it was tight and uncomfortable. Apparently, that was just Ms. Alvarez—it’s actually quite nice when I do it myself. Not that she ever told me I could.

  That wasn’t the only information she chose not share.

  “Home sweet home,” Josh says, breaking away and flopping down on a squishy leather sofa he conjured a few days back. Our dog, Tommy Two, jumps into his lap, yipping happily.

  I roll my eyes at Josh with a sly smile. I like to tease him about his choice in furnishings, which never match the rest of the décor. Everything I conjure is light in color with cotton or satin textures. I guess it is a bit girly.

  A remote control materializes in Josh’s hand and I slip between him and his view of the giant-screen TV. Our knees press together as I place my hands on my hips. “Give a guy an inch…” I tease.

  He tosses the remote into the air where it disappears and pulls me down on top of him, sending Tommy Two running and making me squeal.

  “There are things I’d rather do than watch TV,” he says in a husky voice that sends a hum down all my nerve endings. Before I can respond, his lips are on mine and I lose myself in the scent and feel of Josh.

  Unfortunately, I recognize what he’s doing. “I love you for trying to distract me,” I say between kisses.

  He pulls back with a sigh and lets his thumbs skim the tops of my shoulders, where my robes have slipped down to reveal bare skin. I try to concentrate despite the tremors this sends through my body.

  “Grace?”

  “Hmm?” I never knew how beautiful my name sounded until I heard Josh say it.

  “I’m happier than I’ve ever been in my life.”

  The words warm me from the inside because I know he’s not just talking about being an Angel in Heaven. “But?” I ask, knowing there’s more beneath the surface.

  “But,” he says, sapphire eyes boring into mine, “you aren’t.”

  “It’s not you,” I say, climbing into the seat next to him and reaching for a piece of hair to twirl.

  “I know. It’s your family.” Gently, he slips the hair from my fingers and brushes it away from my face. He purses his lips like he wants to say more, but doesn’t know how.

  I pick at the fabric of my robes, concentrating on that instead of his intense stare. “They can’t get past my death. You should’ve seen the dark circles Mom had yesterday. Dad’s been working late every night, longer and longer hours, and then there’s Noah.” I stop there because it hurts too much to say out loud what Noah has become. That would make it real.

  Josh squeezes me into his side. “You can’t blame yourself.” His words are clipped, punched out one by one with care. I can tell he’s holding back.

  “He isn’t that guy, Josh. He never did that stuff—not when I was alive. He’s hurting, I know it. And I know I can’t help that I died, but he’s hurting because of me.”

  “Your friend Emily is heartbroken, but she didn’t do anything self-destructive.”

  “She moved away. Besides, she’s not family.” The argument comes out automatically because it’s what I’ve told myself over and over again.

  “Yeah, she moved away. Because of Noah.”

  “That’s not fair. He’s always had a crush on her. He just came on a little strong, so she was…uncomfortable.” I recall finding Emily at her new apartment closer to the community college. She’d star
ted early after graduating early—she was always ahead in school. After listening to several conversations between her and her mother, I gathered the whole family had moved because Noah wouldn’t leave her alone after my death. “Stalking,” she’d called it. I didn’t visit her again after that.

  “Noah makes his own choices, just like I did.” Josh’s fingers find a spot under my chin so he can pry my face up to look him in the eyes.

  I keep my gaze cast downward. I wasn’t thrilled with the choices Josh made, either, but he changed, and Noah can put an end to his bad behavior, too. “He doesn’t know what he’s doing. You didn’t, either, especially when you had that horrible demon ‘guiding’ you.”

  “Keira didn’t control my behavior before or after I died. I did. And just like me, Noah knows exactly what he’s doing.” Josh’s voice is hard and he won’t let me go, so I finally meet his scrutinizing look with a glare.

  “He feels abandoned by me,” I say, shoving my way off the stupid leather couch. “He’s self-medicating to make the hurt go away.”

  Josh snorts. “Yeah. That’s why he’s started dealing, ditching, and drinking, too. I suppose that’s also why he acted like an ass to that kid the other day.”

  I wince, feeling like I’ve been punched in the gut. Josh had been with me on that visit. He’d seen the whole thing, just like me. Noah and his friend had cornered some guy and his girlfriend after school. I can still see his buddy, Hale, stepping in front of the girl, grabbing her ass, and saying, “I can pay more than this dick.”

  Instead of coming to her defense, Noah had backed him up. The boyfriend had looked so nervous. Hale shoved him in the chest and Noah laughed the whole time Hale wailed on him.

  Then came the worst part. The girl pulled her cell out and tried to call for help, but Noah knocked the phone out of her hand, distracting her with more lewd comments.

  He and Hale high-fived while I sobbed and screamed at Noah. Josh held me back so I wouldn’t intervene.

  We’re not allowed to interact with Noah.

  Mr. Griffith made it quite clear: I’m allowed unrestricted access to my family and friends as long as I don’t reveal myself or intervene in their lives, under penalty of losing my visitation privileges. Supposedly revealing my fate would “make things more difficult for them.”

  I don’t get it. How can things get worse than they already are? But when I try to protest, Mr. Griffith gets that sympathetic look in his eye and changes the subject. Usually to potential Antichrists and how to find them.

  But how can I concentrate on saving strangers when I can’t even help my little brother?

  “Noah’s not a bad guy,” I say, my voice cracking, just like the image of my brother in my mind.

  “He’s a prick.” Josh stands and pulls me into his arms again. This time I go limp and let him hold me, but I don’t embrace him back. I lose the battle with my tears, which fall hot and heavy down my face.

  “Look,” Josh continues, “I just don’t want you feeling responsible for his actions.”

  My hand slides inside my pocket and I rub the smooth surface of the shell, remembering Noah’s nine-year-old, puppy-dog eyes. “I know I can’t control his choices,” I say softly.

  But I’m not sure I believe it.

  Chapter 2

  Keira

  “You called?” I appear before Lucifer’s throne—a giant, black, leather recliner. It’s been only milliseconds since he summoned me. I hated leaving the soul I’d been corrupting—I was so close to convincing her how much fun it would be to cheat on her husband. But if there’s one thing the past couple of centuries have taught me, it’s that you don’t keep the Devil waiting.

  “There she is.” Lucifer claps his hands together, eyes burning with Hellfire. Something’s definitely up.

  “That’s your secret weapon?” Irma Alvarez’s high-pitched voice comes from behind me, disdain dripping from each syllable.

  My eyes stay on Lucifer. Even if I felt like acknowledging the bitch, it wouldn’t be smart to give attention to anyone but him when he calls. I’ve been burned for less.

  “Irma, if you please.” Lucifer’s voice is smooth, but danger lurks beneath the surface.

  I’ve done my best to stay away from this woman since she joined us. She’s more than obnoxious. She makes me want to dig her eyes out with my nails for sport. Whatever this is about, I hope it doesn’t involve spending time with her.

  At least she shut up.

  “Keira, I have a job for you. I need to use you as a distraction.”

  A smile curls my lips out of habit. I hope I get to distract someone hot. It’s been awhile since my assignments have interested me that way, and last time it didn’t end so well. I had counted on having Josh as a companion for centuries, but he went and found his way to Heaven. Now he’s on Lucifer’s piss list. Mine, too. If there’s a way out of here, I’m the one who deserves to find it.

  “You got it. Who will I be distracting?”

  “That’s my girl, always willing to please.” He appears beside me and cups my face in his hand. I stiffen. It’s never a good sign when Lucifer lays a hand on you.

  “You’re going to need a new look for this,” he says. All platitudes are gone and his cold voice is left—the one that freezes my insides.

  “What kind of look?” I ask.

  “The opposite of yours.”

  I meet his eyes, which sparkle malevolently in the dim light of his throne room. “Not that you aren’t lovely in this form, of course.” He taps my forehead with one finger and a chill spreads through me, trailing tiny pinpricks of pain along my limbs. He glances to the side and a full-length mirror appears.

  The woman in the reflection is tall and lithe, not my usual petite—yet curvy—figure. Her skin is fairy-tale white, which makes me itch, and her hair is strawberry blond, shiny and long. But the eyes are still my own cat-shaped bits of coal.

  “You’ll be able to switch back and forth at will,” Lucifer says from behind my shoulder. “But this is more his type.”

  His? I wonder who my target is, but I don’t ask again. When Lucifer wants me to know, I will.

  Irma Alvarez snorts and I finally glance at her, as does Lucifer. She’s a squat woman with beady eyes and a perpetually heaving chest. I guess she runs out of breath easily, which makes sense—all she does is eat and yap. Why does the Boss let her stay? It’s more punishment for me than her.

  She opens her mouth again. “Do you really think she has it in her? I would be much better suited to the task.”

  Is she serious? Though I can’t blame her for wanting a makeover.

  “You have your job, Irma,” Lucifer says, straightening his double-breasted, navy suit. “It’s going to be difficult enough to force the potential Antichrist toward the dark this early in the game. You focus on that. Keira here will take care of our friends.”

  I don’t like the way he says friends. “I don’t recall us having any friends.”

  Lucifer grins, displaying perfect white teeth. “Smart girl, Keira. Your job is to distract our newest Super Angels above.”

  Irma cuts him off. “And the best way to distract them is to break up Gracelyn’s illicit coupling with that boy.”

  “You mean Josh?” I bite my lip hard the second the name passes my tongue. It’s bad enough she mentioned Grace’s name. “Josh” was banished from our vocabulary the second he beat Lucifer at his own game. Not that I want to spend another second thinking about either of them. The whole debacle was unfair.

  I brace myself for retribution, but Lucifer only chuckles.

  “Yes. Now, Irma, get going. You have work to do, my dear.” He waves a hand and she disappears from view, along with her annoying voice.

  “If all goes as planned—and it usually does,” he says, sliding an arm over my shoulder and steering me back to the mirror where I can see us both, “then we may not only have the edge with the new potential Antichrist, but we’ll be accepting the happy couple back into the fold by year’s
end. You don’t wrong the Devil and get away with it, Keira. I never forget a transgression.”

  I swallow. Lucifer had never been so close to securing the Antichrist when Josh and Grace managed to stop him. How does Lucifer plan on bringing them down when they’re now both Angels? Maybe in this new form I can get Josh to sleep with me and fall from Heaven…but even the thought makes me feel insecure. I’ve seen firsthand how much Josh loves Grace.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Lucifer says. I don’t doubt it’s true. “So I’m going to provide a little help. It’s imperative that we keep them distracted long enough to succeed.”

  I bite my lip, but Lucifer knows what I was about to say.

  “I expect you to trust me, not Irma. The woman is insane. She believes that at the End of Days, we’ll both be welcomed back into Heaven because The Man Himself will realize his error in ejecting us in the first place. She forgets that I am an Original, created by The Man Himself, and was never a lowly human soul. She knows nothing about the important part of the prophecy. How would she? Only the Angel Michael and I know it.”

  “What is it?” I ask, unable to contain the words. I’ve always understood that humans didn’t have the whole story. When I was alive, I sat through many a church service where we were told that Jesus would save us after the Antichrist served up doom and destruction to all the non-believers—if we behaved. I hated sitting in those wooden pews in that muggy, old church. I didn’t buy a word of it, and I was shocked when I died and found out the whole Antichrist thing was real. But I have a theory that the “Savior” part isn’t; I think fear caused humans to make that part up. Lucifer’s never confirmed or denied it before, just eluded to the idea that the End Times mean he has an easy win against Heaven.