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“Hey.” Jackson’s voice was closer than I wanted.
I stumbled backwards raising my fists to stop him. “Wait.”
Bolting to the shore, I knelt down, my black pants soaking up the water, but I didn’t care. I looked down at my reflection expecting to see a power-hungry monster, the one that I felt like each time the visions of that night manifested in my mind. But all I saw was the same soul I’d seen for the past hundred years. The only difference was the black Guard uniform instead of the white Collector one.
I blinked a few times before I was convinced that my surroundings were real. The After had been my home for the past hundred years, but only recently I’d been able to experience my breathtaking environment. Even though I had no use for breathing, I inhaled, taking in the fresh and slightly sweet scent. I dug my hands into the soft sand, rooting me. Calming me.
Jackson appeared next to me. I looked up at him through my reflection.
“I think we’re making progress.”
I turned around. He had one hand open at his side, but the other held my sword. He wiggled his fingers and I took it. Then he wrapped his long fingers around mine and lifted me to his side, holding me there until the tightness in my chest unfurled to a numbness that slowly pooled in my middle.
I loosened my grip and reached for my sword, pretending to ignore his hurt expression. It was the one I’d seen a few times a day since we started training together over two months ago. In the time I’d known him, I’d seen a few of Jackson’s memories through his eyes, and a strange molding of my and his recollection of the night I’d murdered Gemma and Tristan, my sister and husband. The night I died.
Guilt rushed through me every time, but it was my choice not to have my memories back. Not his. I’d attempted to reintroduce myself to him but he was at an unfair advantage, knowing me better than I knew myself.
Without the vision in the forefront of my mind I focused on my weapon. It fit my hand perfectly, because it had been made for me. It wasn’t a human’s traditional broadsword, heavy and bulky; it was made in the After, with a piece of my True Soul embedded in it. I slid it into the baldric strapped to my back.
Looking up, I remembered Jackson had spoken to me and I attempted to cover my thoughts. “How so? That time I nearly had you.”
He grinned. “But you haven’t had an episode for two weeks now. That’s progress.”
I looked across the water, not meeting his gaze. He was right, but I’d prefer not to have any at all.
“Do you want to take a break?”
I shook my head. “The Shadowed don’t take breaks.” He’d said that to me in the beginning when the training had been a challenge after a century of Collecting. His words flowing from my mouth surprised us both.
Jackson looked over his shoulder. “I don’t see any Shadowed here.” He reached out to take my hand, but quickly pulled it back, nodding his head instead to his left. “Come on.”
I didn’t need to ask where we were going. Felix required downtime for all After workers, Soul Collectors included, but Jackson always took a break in training after a vision. I’d always been fond of the Living Realm for my time off when I was a Collector, but Jackson rarely took me there. Not that I wanted to go back just yet.
The last time I’d visited the cemetery where my family was buried, I’d had one of the worst episodes I could remember. Even though the essence hadn’t been seen outside my visions since the night of Ally’s birthday, they were real enough for me not to want any of my memories back. That included no more Living Realm, at least until I could control this power inside of me.
We walked a path across the shore in silence. Our training site was far from the office that I’d flitted in and out of while I was a Soul Collector. Felix had chosen the site for us. I’d guessed it was because of my status among the Guard. Even though David had his mind set on destroying his daughter’s future, I had been the one to destroy a precious Prognatum. I understood their disdain for me, since everyone else had known about what I’d done in my past before Jackson revealed it to me. Felix had removed the memories of my human life from my mind to protect me. I now knew that those memories were linked to my soul-sucking abilities so as much as I had been mad at him, he had done me a favor.
I’d wondered many times why Felix didn’t opt to Recycle me. Technically I was still a Prognatum, even though I hadn’t transformed due to my untimely death at seventeen. Felix and the other Caeleste were hesitant to release me back to the Living Realm giving the Shadowed a chance at attempting to take me again.
I glanced over at Jackson, whose hardened expression was turned towards our destination. I hadn’t known what to expect of my ex-Guard when Felix assigned us to train together. I had been under the impression that he had been a Shadowed, which wasn’t completely wrong. When I died at my father’s hand, Felix had removed Jackson from his position in our family. He trained other Guard for a few decades until that proved to be a mistake, so Felix gave him a new job—to infiltrate and gain information from the Shadowed. But to keep him undercover, the other Guard were told that Jackson had been turned by the Shadowed a long time ago. I still didn’t understand the full reason for Jackson’s separation from the Guard but I knew a part of it was because of our relationship—a relationship that made the fire in Jackson’s eyes flicker with desire after I said something that reminded him of a memory of us. A fire that equally kindled something inside of me, just out of reach, and I needed to keep it that way.
Jackson nudged me, pulling me back to the present. “Let’s go over some of your verbal lessons while we walk. Unless you prefer silence?”
I’d had enough of internal turmoil to last for a while, so I grinned. “Shoot.”
Chapter Two (#uac40c2e2-bd94-51c1-8a82-99bf72c74aac)
Jackson fired questions at me for the rest of our trek.
“Name three rules of corporeality?” he quizzed.
“Make as little interaction as possible. Never be photographed. And give the illusion of life.”
Along with the combat part of the training, the Guard were informed of a lot more than I’d ever been privy to as a Collector. The regulations of the Guard were quite intricate and I understood now why Cooper had kept a lot of it secret. The information was need-to-know for anyone other than a Guard. Initially I was overwhelmed with the lessons, but Jackson had a way of making it easier to digest. And I wasn’t blind to his charm. He made me want to learn and want to do the best I could. This role had been my destiny and I’d try harder than any other trainee to earn my spot back on the Guard, even if I wasn’t a transformed Prognatum.
Transformed Prognatum were still very much alive, but their hybrid status allowed them to cross over into the After without dying as I had. They were given their rightful spot on the Guard. I had to earn it. I wasn’t upset at that fact. Not anymore. Even though Felix and I had our differences, I appreciated the second chance. The only redeeming factor for me was that I’d given birth before I died, securing the Prognatum line. Ally would age until she appeared to be around thirty human years and be able to live the long lives that the Caeleste had, I would forever be seventeen.
“Mags.”
I found Jackson’s eyes, which were looking down at me expectantly.
Shaking my head I tried to focus. “What was the question?”
He regarded me for a second before repeating himself. “What is important about these rules?”
“To preserve and protect the After from the humans.”
I shoved away any distracting thoughts and prodded him for more questions.
***
Our training site wasn’t far from the one place in the After that calmed me in the way the cemetery used to. In the months since Ally’s birthday, Jackson had taken me all over the After. It was just as momentous as the Living Realm, possibly even more. And it was undoubtedly just as beautiful as I’d always seen from my old office. I knew of the other hubs for Soul Collectors and Guard but I never comprehended how many. Word of my ‘gift’ had spread fast so I’d learned to ignore the narrowed stares from the Guard and open-mouthed gapes from the Collectors. Although the further we got from our main office, the more exaggerated my story had become, making it less believable to intelligent souls.
One of my favorite hubs was one of the farthest we’d traveled to where I’d met a Collector who had been in the position almost twice as many years as I’d been. The three of us spent an afternoon together trading stories, and I enjoyed his company so much that by the end of it, guilt had risen to the surface, making my chest ache. I was finally able to understand why Felix wanted me to connect with other Collectors and that I had chosen not to. There was a lot more to the After than just Soul Collecting. Too bad it cost so much to get me to that point.
“Mags,” Jackson’s voice broke through my memories.
I looked up at him. “Sorry.”
He reached down, placing a hand on my shoulder. “You’ve been distracted all day—”
“I know,” I interrupted, trying to not focus on the weight of his hand on my soul. I looked up at our destination. “Let’s just go. I’ll be fine when we get there.”
He took my hand as we approached the familiar ridge that for so many years I’d only been on the other side of. We couldn’t transport the way we did in the Living Realm, so the sharp and rocky terrain leading to Gate Seven had to be navigated delicately.
Even though we’d climbed the ridge more times than I could count, Jackson insisted on us doing it together. Not that either of us could die again, but injuries weren’t beyond the scope of a soul, especially those who saw a forbidden ridge and chose to climb it.
Gate Seven was off-limits to souls outside of Collectors on their missions. We’d yet to establish how the Gatekeepers got there outside of actually climbing the ridge. But I understood the importance. They had a job to do and didn’t need distractions and the souls were overwhelmed enough with having just died, they didn’t need an audience.
We made our way up the path of rocks and I took the same slow steps that Jackson did, his hand squeezing mine to help me balance on the trickier pointed rocks. I focused on my footing, distracting my mind away from how his hand felt holding mine. Despite not knowing the full extent of our past together, I knew it had been passionate and absolutely forbidden. But we’d established a friendship during training that just extended beyond a professional one. I appreciated that he never gave up any information about our past unless I asked. He knew how sensitive I was about it so we stuck to the time of his human and soul life before we met.
Jackson gripped my arm with his other hand and helped me balance. “Last one.”
I closed my eyes like I always did, clearing the negative thoughts of my vision. My soul had calmed significantly already but I loved experiencing Gate Seven with an unclouded mind.
When Jackson let go of my hand, unconsciously I reached out for him, opening my eyes in the process.
As a Collector I’d seen thousands of manifestations of Gate Seven through the eyes of my target souls. The True Soul which helped coax the soul from the body also manifested how a soul would want their transition into the After to appear. Some envisioned pearly gates and others brought out their favorite place in the world. All of the manifestations eased the soul enough to accept their fate. Then the Gatekeepers would be there to guide them to their place in the After to spend their soul life.
But none of the manifestations I’d experienced would come close to what Gate Seven actually looked like. Gatekeepers lined the Veil at the edge of the After waiting for their assigned soul to cross over. I could barely make out the Veil against the glowing backdrop since it was nearly invisible but a lot stronger than it looked. In one of my many new lessons, Jackson had explained that what we referred to as Gate Seven was a sort of dead space between the Living and After Realms, which made it easier to visualize a soul’s manifestation.
Without the connection of a soul, I experienced Gate Seven as an endless sky with swirling patterns in every color. The souls and Collectors in the distance appeared to be standing on air, which at first looked a bit startling, but as a Collector I knew they were witnessing a different kind of beauty. The After didn’t share the same sun as the Living Realm, but it was more powerful creating a constant glow in the distance, illuminating the Realm. It never became fully dark at any point, just a shift in color from light pinks and purples fading into deep blues and reds and every color between.
My shoulders relaxed. The tension from the vision floated away as I sank down onto the plush grass. Jackson sat beside me. We watched the Soul Collectors arrive with new souls and quickly disappear back to the office, while the souls experienced their surroundings. Some stood still and others appeared to be on a treadmill as they walked in place, but I knew in their minds they were exploring their manifestation. That was a part of the Collecting gig that I never experienced and I found it fascinating each time Jackson took me there.
I turned to him. “Thank you.”
He nodded, his eyes trained on the Gate. “You’re welcome.”
“Sorry I ruined your training session.”
“Don’t worry about it, I needed a break anyway.”
“Doubtful.”
“Believe it or not, you’re getting better. It’s taking me almost twice as long to get you off your feet.”
A laugh burst from my lips. “That’s encouraging.”
“I meant that as a compliment. I’m not as nice as I used to be when it comes to combat.”
I remembered my first week of combat training and it hadn’t been easy. “You used to be nice?”
A wry smile touched his lips. “Like I said, you’re getting better.”
I looked back out toward Gate Seven. “I’m still not where I should be at this point.”
“You do have an advantage…” He wiggled his fingers.
“Absolutely not.” It wasn’t the first time he suggested accessing my ability to help become a better fighter. But no one else had these stirrings and they did just fine. Besides that, what would happen to Jackson if I actually embraced that side of me? Or anyone else within a mile radius for that matter?
Twisting his body so we sat directly across from each other, his knees brushed against mine. “I know you don’t believe me, but this is a part of you and it can be controlled.”
I checked my hands again “At whose expense?”
“I can handle it.”
I raised an eyebrow. “I nearly had you earlier.”
“No you didn’t.”
I reached my hand out keeping it inches from his chest. “I distinctly remember being this close.”
“I’ve been around a long time, Mags. And I’ve been in a lot of fights. Trust me, I was in control.”
For some reason, putting down that part of me made me want to prove him wrong. I stood up quickly.
He followed suit, but slower, calculated.
His blue eyes faced the Gate as we circled each other, they appeared almost translucent against the glowing orange sky. He grinned. A spark erupted within me. That wicked grin always meant he was up to no good. It was the same one that made me want to both rush into his arms and run away at the same time.
“What are you doing?”
Lifting his sword from his baldric Jackson twirled it in his hand. “You were the one who stood up. I’m assuming you wanted to prove me wrong.”
I cursed my defiant side and Jackson for always knowing what was on my mind. Even though my memories were locked away, traces of them appeared in my personality. More so when he was around. It was as if they responded to him in some cruel joke against me.
“No. That wasn’t—”
Jackson looked over his shoulder, showcasing his defined jawline in profile. “Well we need to finish up training for today if anything.”
He nodded to my sword and I lifted it, pointing it up at the ready. I pressed the toes of my boots into the ground and shifted my weight, just as Jackson taught me. Like a bolt of lightning, he struck, his weapon crashing down on mine. I blocked, but he twisted around and brought the sword down again, harder this time. I struggled to keep my sword up against his, but he pulled it away quickly before striking again. I blocked every shot, but unlike before I had no opening. His method while training had been to use cunning and brute strength, just as the Shadowed did. They didn’t care about poise and precision, they wanted results by any means necessary. But in addition to that, he was proving a point; that he was right.
Before I knew it, Jackson had me against a tree, the bark pressing into my back. I ducked one of his blows but he deftly spun around and continued swinging.
“Focus,” he growled.
There was no sign of the devastatingly handsome boy that I’d grown to know. He had turned on his full Guard mode and it was both a beautiful and terrifying sight. “I am,” I said through gritted teeth, accepting another shattering strike on my sword. I wasn’t sure how long my arms could take the beating.
“Don’t think.” He didn’t even look like he was struggling. His muscles moved under him as if the sword was an extension of his body. “The Shadowed don’t think, they act.”
The grass was a lot softer than the hard packed dirt I was used to training on. I regretted baiting him before but at each connection of our weapons, my regret grew into white hot anger. My rage blinded me and for a second I forgot where I was. I tripped over a small root in the ground, breaking my rhythm and in the process my sword flew from my grip.
Dropping his sword on the ground, he came at me. Along with swordplay, he’d schooled me in hand-to-hand combat, but before I could make a fist, his hand shot out and gripped mine, hard. He twisted my body unnaturally and I cried out as he grabbed my other wrist and held it behind me. He pressed my back against his chest, caging me. I tried to wriggle free from his hold but I failed.
His cheek pressed against my head and he whispered in my ear. “Like I said, I can handle it.”
I shivered, but this wasn’t the moment to get distracted. I struggled, but his grip only tightened.
Focus.
I kicked out but his legs were cemented in place. I lifted my body, putting all my weight on his arms. He grunted and I found a chink in his grip and muscled out. Maneuvering his hands he twisted me around so we were chest to chest. With the height difference it was more my chest to his abdomen. He held my arms together at my back with one hand, the other held up in front of my face, goading me.
“Alright,” I said, defeated.
He smirked. “Alright what?”
“You can handle it.” He released his grip and I stepped back from him, needing to get away from his distracting body.
I held out my hand. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to use this.”
“Fair enough, but if you ever want to—”He trailed off.
I adjusted my baldric and stared at the space between us. My wrists ached where he had held them, but I’d be damned if I would show my weakness.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked, seeming to read my mind.
I blinked hard and flicked my gaze up to his. “Not as much as I’m about to hurt you.” I slid my foot under my sword and flicked it up to my hand.
