Collector of Souls by Naomi Lucas

Author:Naomi Lucas [Lucas, Naomi]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Dark, Fantasy, Fiction, Paranormal, Romance, Science Fiction
ISBN: 9798582457374
Amazon: B08QRXTBNX
Publisher: Independently published
Published: 2020-12-16T00:00:00+00:00

H e pulled his vibrant orb from the lantern. The silver mass left a numb, shivering feeling in his hand. But as he inspected it, rolled it between his fingers, Seraph only saw the tiniest veins of corruption dotting it. It wasn’t infected enough to alarm him but it was noticeable and exacting in its meaning, and that meaning had consequences.

Or opportunities if one was so inclined that way.

As he rolled his sphere back and forth, he smoothed it, rounded it, stroked it, and his mind wandered back to Ophelia. He mentally tried to link his aura back to hers but the connection remained lost. He hit a metaphysical brick wall and it left him feeling as empty and infinite as the ether. The endless, haunting, and shaded unknowability of the future.

He tried again out of spite but not even a wisp could be felt, only the faint trace of her presence within his halls and the memories he had preserved were found.

Ophelia had truly exiled him from her life. The stunned vehemence of her demand hit him full force and he squeezed the soul in his grip. What had she and the alien girl talked about? His emotions darkened and he looked down to see his fingers, now tipped with decaying claws, digging into the precious essence in his hand.

Seraph loosened his grip and massaged the punctures away with his thumb, immediately feeling better. I wonder what her vulnerable life-force would feel like clutched in my grasp. He smirked.

With unveiled interest, he reached into the lapel of his jacket and pulled out the memories he had stolen from her when she had bargained for a better life. He had granted her the only life possible for her on that disgustingly backward world. The memories coiled around his fingers like warm, wet string.

He pulled them apart and brought them before an unused bench, placed the strings separately before him and watched them wiggle. His nails drummed on the table.

One was of their bargain beneath the crimson tree.

One was of her flight through the twilight forest.

And the third one was of her rape. His eyes dwelled on that one.

He had invaded all three after their contract solidified and the tether had been formed, needing to know what had to be changed on his part.

Seraph summoned his now vacant lantern and placed his silvery soul next to it. He picked up the first memory and fed it into himself, sniffing it right before it was fully consumed. The memory smelled of death.

He took the second memory and held it to his nose, briefly reliving her flight and her thoughts as she ran in paranoid abandon. He could feel her fear and the pain that bled from her wounds.

Pulling the unfortunate string away from his face, Seraph flicked it into the mists, watching it ascend until it was out of sight. Now more waste than memory.

Then he turned his attention to the black string. It dripped with imaginary blood but glowed with speckles of innocence beneath.

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