Your Soul to Take

Nehmer Delarosa has been cursed ever since her mother sold her soul to Satan to keep her from drowning when she was six. Eleven years later, and now a junior in high school, Nehmer has been forced to take the job of a Soul Taker as her punishment. When Nehmer's reclusive lifestyle is challenged by the new boy, Eric, she finds herself opening up for the first time in years--until she is faced with a decision that has deadly consequences.

KUDOS for Your Soul to Take

Your Soul to Take by Brittany Booker is a fine follow up to Damned. While not a sequel to Damned, Your Soul to Take is along the same lines—a dark paranormal for an older young adult audience. The story revolves around Jordan, a seventeen-year-old warrior for good, and her mother, Seeley. Jordan, who has been home-schooled since her father died, is now going to the local high school, along with guardian angel, Marcus, who has taken the human form of Mark. Jordan and Mark fight demons and try to redeem students who have turned toward the dark side. They are only partially successful. While the story has a sweet love story between Seeley and her beau and Jordan with a local, high-school jock, Your Soul to Take is mainly about the fight between good and evil. The characters are well done, three dimensional, and very realistic. The plot strong is strong, riveting, and has enough twists and turns to make it very hard to put down. – Taylor Jones, Reviewer

Brittany Booker has done it again in Your Soul to Take. Like Damned, Your Soul to Take is about the fight between Good and Evil, but unlike Damned, this time the angels are all fighting on the side of Good, while demons, and some dark-side humans, fight on the side of Evil. However, as in Damned, the characters have some of both qualities in them. Some of the angles fight against temptation, while some of the evil humans also have a trace of good—just enough to keep them unpredictable, so you don’t know exactly what their motivations are. Booker’s second novel is a well-written as her first, her characters just a realistic and believable (if angels and demons can be considered believable) and her plot just as strong. The book is a page-turner, no question. I was riveted from the first word to the last. – Regan Murphy, Reviewer

YOUR SOUL TO TAKE

Brittany Booker

A BLACK OPAL BOOKS PUBLICATION

Copyright 2013 BY Brittany Booker

Cover Art by Kimberly Killion at Hot Damn Designs

Copyright 2013 All Rights Reserved

EBOOK ISBN: 978-1-626940-71-0

EXCERPT

I knew he was coming for me, I just hadn’t realized the deadly consequences...

I saw the look on Beez's face. Before I could move, his eyes closed and I felt a fire at the bottom of my feet. A scorching heat ran through my body like lightning in the sky. A scream ripped from my throat. I fell to the hard ground. I could hear muffled voices beside me and felt a faint hand on my waist. What is happening to me? Am I finally dying?

My hands were tangled in the dead grass below me from when I was knocked onto my back. My breath started to come back in short gasps. I looked through squinted eyes and noticed Xavier bent over. Beez opened his mouth and fire shot out. Xavier threw his arms out wide. A shield materialized around him, blocking the scorching fire. Beez's scream was hard and icy against my ears and it didn't sound like he was alone.

My vision was blurred with red. I could tell there was fighting going on but my body was still recovering from the pain. I felt someone holding me. Erick? I faintly smelled the sawdust through the ash and I tried to smile. My last coherent thought was that I hoped if anyone survived, it wasn't Beez. Then a bright light flashed. I swore I saw the face of an angel in front of me and the melodious rhythm of something on the air--wings? But then everything went black.

DEDICATION

Greg -- thank you for your unconditional love.

CHAPTER 1

My heart was pounding hard against my ribs. It was the only thing I could feel. My entire body was numb. I gripped the knife in my hand and focused on Blake Carter lying in front of me. He looked so peaceful, sleeping in his bed. His covers were tangled around him, his mouth wide open, and his arm over his eyes. I wanted to leave. I wanted to walk right back down the stairs I had come up. I wanted to crawl into my bed at home and not be covered in blood.

I swallowed the hard lump that had formed in my throat and took a step toward the bed. The floor creaked underneath my weight. Blake moaned and stirred, sitting up on his elbows to look at me. He blinked twice and I realized when his eyes came into focus, because they widened.

Nehmer, he said his voice low. He glanced at the knife clutched in my hand and tilted his head to the side. What--what are you doing, Nehmer?

He pushed himself upright. My lip tried to tremble when he started to get out of his bed. I bit my lip to stop it. I hated the way he looked at me, like I was some kind of a monster. I'm not a monster! I have to do this!

Blake backed off the bed and stood up, hands out. Nehmer, let me take you home and we'll forget this every happened.

I can't! I walked toward him, my breath heavy and my heart pounding. No matter how many times I'd done this, it never got any easier. Never.

Blake was pressed against the wall, his eyes wide, his large hands out in surrender. I thought about what his mother would think in the morning when she found his body. All the crying faces I would have to see at school tomorrow. His girlfriend, the football team, his teachers, his siblings.

I'd begged myself not to think about those things, but it was always there in the back of my mind. The thought of what I was really doing. Killing him. I knew I had to, even though something inside of me always begged me to stop. But I couldn't. Not if I wanted to wake up and see my dad and brother the next day.

Blake was bigger than me. He didn't look like he wanted to hurt me, but when your life was at stake or others' lives were, you would do unimaginable things.

Nehmer, he said, louder this time.

'Hurry before he wakes his parents,' something hissed inside me.

I couldn't tell who was telling me to do things anymore. Is it Him? Or Me? I didn't know.

Blake stepped toward me and I jabbed the knife at him. He jumped back, making a loud thud when he fell back against the wall.

Please, he begged.

I closed my eyes and shook my head.

'Do it.'

I bit my tongue and then gritted my teeth together. I lunged forward but Blake grabbed my wrist, hard. My knife slid from my hands to the carpet below.

Nehmer, please. Let's get you some help!

He was holding my wrist tight. I couldn't move. His dark eyes were searching my face. I wondered what he was really thinking? Was he thinking I was possessed? Or sleep walking? A bad dream?

Blake was saying something to me but I couldn't make out the words. My head was spinning with turmoil.

When Blake's body tightened, he grabbed his head and fell back against the wall again. Ah! he screamed.

'Do it!'

I stood still, my head spinning, my heart pounding. My hand opened and I felt the blade in it again. I didn't question how it happened because I knew He had done it. He was making me. My hand surged forward and I followed through with it. I slammed the blade into his chest and he stumbled, falling into me. I stiffened. He was no doubt two hundred pounds, but I lifted him effortlessly away from me, pushing him onto his bed. The blood drizzled down to his sheets, dark red.

I'd become accustomed to blood. It was my life. I grabbed the vial around my neck, opening it. His soul was released from his body, a shimmering gold substance. I stood motionless, letting the vial suck in the only living thing left of Blake Carter--his soul. I shut the lid and glanced down at his motionless body. My stomach hurt badly. I wanted to vomit. He would never be free again. Dead. Always.

The knife I left on the floor. The cops wouldn't get any fingerprints or hair. They wouldn't get one piece of evidence. He would make sure of that. I didn't move until I could feel my legs again. I slipped down the stairs and out of the window I had come through. The wind whipped at my face. I zipped my hoodie, covering the blood, and pulled the hood over my face. I ducked through the trees and onto the trail leading me toward my house.

The branches snapped at my face but I didn't care. I wanted to feel something besides the emotion of killing. A slap in the face would have felt good.

The wind howled and it brought me back to that day. The day my mother told me that she had sold my soul to Satan. I closed my eyes and walked the rest of the way home. I couldn't think about how my mother ruined my life. It only made living that much more unmanageable.

***

This isn't a game, Nehmer. Tell me right now how this blood got on your clothes, my dad yelled, pointing dramatically at the dried blood on my wrinkled white T-shirt.

I narrowed my eyes. How in the hell did he find that? I hid it in my bathroom!

I sighed, resting my head in my hands. As much as I wanted to tell him the truth, I couldn't, not if I wanted him to see tomorrow.

I had taken a boy's soul last night. It wasn't the first time and sure as hell wouldn't be the last. He fought hard against me, too. I wrapped my hand around my wrist and tried to push the memory away.

My dad had found blood on my clothes before and each time I lied my way around it. I clicked my tongue against my teeth and placed my hands on the table.

It's not that big of a deal, Dad. I was coming home from work last night when this guy ran into me. I think he'd been in a fight or something 'cause he was covered in blood. It was a lame lie, but I didn't have time to come up with anything better.

My dad had caught me off guard when he rushed at me with my shirt in his hands.

He laughed humorlessly as he stood there, with my shirt still clenched in his fist. Why is it something crazy always happens to you, where you end up with a bloody shirt? You don't find this odd, Mer? Or am I the only one that has any sense left around here?

Hey! I have sense, my brother said, stomping down the stairs toward the kitchen. He had a pair of sweats on, no shirt, and a sloppy grin on his face. He walked over to the fridge and grabbed the orange juice. I'm the only one in this family that's gone to college.

My dad sighed. "You went for half a semester. I hardly think that's considered going to college, Logan. And I wasn't talking to you. I was talking to your delinquent younger sister here always showing up with blood on her clothes."

Logan's eyebrows shot up as he quickly chugged the rest of the orange juice. Been fighting again, little sis? he asked, throwing the empty container in the trash can.

I glanced up at him, giving him a look. His grin returned, this time looking so much like Mom, it was almost eerie. He pushed his fingers through his shaggy brown hair and sighed. Ah, give the kid a break. At least she isn't pregnant.

My dad grunted. That would require her to actually have contact with a boy, or any other person for that matter.

My dad wasn't like most dads. If I would have let him, he'd have placed a sign on my forehead that said, Please take me out!

Logan gave me a look of pity and shrugged his shoulders. You need a ride to school, little sis?

I nodded gratefully and snatched my backpack off the table, slinging it over my shoulder, then pulled my hoodie over my head.

My dad grabbed my arm. "This isn't over. We are going to talk about this tonight."

Fine, I mumbled. Whatever.

Reluctantly, he let me go and I followed Logan out the front door. The moment I stepped outside, the wind hit me in the face, blowing my hood away from my eyes. My legs were shivering from the damn skirt we had to wear to school. Phil-Mont Christian Academy had strict policies on dress code. You wore what they said, no matter what. A plaid skirt for girls, slacks for boys, and ugly blue sweaters. My teachers finally stopped turning me in for wearing my hoodies. They got tired of having to have a conference every week about my jacket with the principal. They just made me take it off during classes.

I breathed in the lake air and glanced down toward the dock.

I should be dead, I thought. I'd rather be dead than living like this.

Come on, Logan said, ruffling my hair.

I swatted his hand away and stalked behind him to his Jeep. You should've put a shirt on. It's freezing.

He shrugged. Why would I deprive the world of seeing me in all my glory? It's not fair to them, Mer. Quit being selfish.

I shook my head, sighing. He's delusional.

We got in his Jeep and I leaned my head back against the leather seat, letting my muscles relax. I was so sore from the fight last night, I wanted to sleep for twelve more hours.

So, where did the blood really come from? Logan asked, looking over his shoulder as he backed out of the driveway. I know you're lame ass excuse was a lie. Come on, spill it.

Just drive, caveman.

He laughed, shifting gears, then looked over at me, eyebrows raised. What're you always doing at night, huh? You're always sneaking out or coming home late, sometimes with bruises. What's going on? He glanced at my necklace and made a grab for it, but I shoved it down my shirt. Think that'll stop me? He laughed again. I've felt boobies before.

Ew, gross.

"Where'd you get that