Soul Taken. Katlyn Duncan

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      Chapter One

      “Is it ready now?” Dylan asked for the tenth time in twenty minutes.

      I reached my hand into the pouch at my hip and touched the silky essence pulsating under my fingers. “Not yet.”

      Dylan was my newest Soul Collecting trainee, fresh from Gate Seven. Very fresh. He looked to have died when he was around eleven human years. Felix, my boss, usually had the young ones under my care as they were the most difficult to train, and since I died at seventeen, they could usually relate to a younger mentor.

      I looked into the deli and saw our target, Joseph Bonds, lean over the counter, flirting with the female cashier. I touched the True Soul again, excitement flowing through it. The True Soul mirrored the emotions of its counterpart, and Joseph was very excited about his meal. I didn’t understand why, considering he’d spent all morning digging through a box of donut holes.

      After over a hundred human years of my after-life, I had lost all reasoning why an excess of food was important to humans.

      Dylan sat on the small wooden bench hugged against the building, his eyes trained on the cars, and his head darted back and forth as they passed. The kid had a fascination with cars.

      The bell on the deli door jangled. Dylan jumped off the bench, just missing a woman passing in front of him down the sidewalk; he skittered back, still not used to his non-corporeal form.

      Joseph waddled down the sidewalk, his bags crushed against his chest as if any moment someone would steal them. I started after Joseph, but halfway down the sidewalk I realized I was alone. I turned around.

      Dylan stood at the edge of the curb, staring at the cars again, flinching.

      I snapped my fingers. “Let’s go.”

      Dylan blinked and looked at me, as if coming out of a trance. He glanced at the road again then sprinted to my side.

      I pushed him forward. “You know I am only supposed to be observing, right?”

      He looked up at me, eyes wide, but when he realized I wouldn’t help him out again, he took the initiative, opening his hand between us. I placed the essence in his palm and he swiftly tucked it in his pouch. His eyes narrowed on Joseph and he stepped ahead of me confidently. I couldn’t help but smile at his false bravado. I’d seen this before with him. He’d make it this far then, when it really counted, he would chicken out.

      Felix had discussed, not for the first time, that I should put more faith into my training and trainees. But their consistent mistakes made letting go harder and harder each time I took on a new one. The worst part for me was that each failure counted against my record. And if I was going to get the newly opened Guard position, I needed Dylan to step up.

      Dylan kept his distance from Joseph, as if he’d turn around any second and find him stalking behind him. I stayed a few steps behind Dylan, giving him working space.

      Please do this right, I silently begged.

      We arrived at the auto body shop. Joseph fumbled for his keys while balancing his bags of food. He pulled open the door with a grunt and stepped through.

      Dylan slunk in right behind Joseph. I waited until the door shut before transitioning through the metal into the building. Collectors could pass through objects and Dylan knew that, yet he still insisted on the human way.

      Dylan tailed Joseph, following in his footsteps as if they were in three feet of snow instead of an untidy shop. They weaved through the mess of scattered tools, creepers, and several empty boxes.

      Joseph eyed the 1967 cherry-red Mustang that rested on the lift. He’d intended to finish it, but I knew he never would. Too bad for him.

      The phone rang, echoing off the concrete walls as it had all morning.

      Joseph grunted and waved a hand at it. “I’m on lunch!”

      Dylan stopped in his tracks. I nudged him forward. “He can’t see you, I promise.”

      Joseph put down his bags on the office desk and pulled a dirty rag from his back pocket, placing it over the phone and its persistent red flashing light. He fisted his left hand and coughed.

      Even without the True Soul in my hand, I knew a heart attack was just around the corner for Joseph. I crossed my fingers, hoping Dylan would be able to pick up on it. The talent of spotting the moment or cause of death could not be learned. It was felt through the True Soul. Collectors had to find the precise moment that the soul was the weakest and able to sever ties with the body. Watching a human after their death time could potentially damage the soul. Unfortunately I had pretty much seen all the mistakes the trainees made. The most frequent being a trainee seeing death for the first several times, having a minor panic attack—or fumbling the actual act of getting the soul out of the body—and I ended up having to do it for them, resulting in more strikes against my Collecting record. But not today. I needed one more perfect Collection to put me over the top.

      Dylan perched on a second chair next to the desk, watching Joseph strategically spread his food, buffet-style. The kid leaned over, dangerously close to the chili and cheese dog, as if he could still smell it.

      Soul Collectors had the sense of smell and touch removed from our souls. Since the job entailed being around death, I thought losing my sense of smell was a blessing, especially watching Joseph shove the dripping hot dog in his mouth.

      If I had a gag reflex, it would have been tested at that moment.

      I turned away, letting the man have his last meal and reached into my pouch, more out of habit than anything, feeling nothing.

      Let him do it on his own, Felix’s words echoed in my mind.

      I bit my lip.

      “That looks delicious,” Dylan said wistfully.

      I balked. Here we were, doing one of the most important jobs of the After by reuniting the True Soul with its counterpart, and all he could talk about was food. I’d have to speak to Felix about his screening process.

      “It’s happening!” Dylan shrieked, jumping from the chair. He brought out the True Soul from his pouch, holding it out in front of him.

      “Easy!” I warned.

      His hands shook underneath the essence.

      I swear, if he dropped it— I placed my hands under his, steadying them.

      “It’s too wiggly.”

      I rolled my eyes. “It’s not wiggly; it’s, in a way, counting down the time it has until it’s reunited with its other half. Remember how the pulsing intensifies before it stops? That’s when we can do our job. Feel it.” I curled my fingers under his until he mimicked the movement. “Remember what I said about letting it guide you?”

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