The Runes Universe_Splintered Souls Read online

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  This work was made possible by a special license through the Kindle Worlds publishing program and has not necessarily been reviewed by Isabel Ednah McFarland. All characters, scenes, events, plots and related elements appearing in the original The Runes Universe remain the exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of Isabel Ednah McFarland, or their affiliates or licensors.

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  Splintered Souls

  A Runes Universe Story

  by

  Raye Wagner

  Splintered Souls: A Runes Universe Story

  by Raye Wagner

  Copyright © 2017 Rachel Wagner

  ~~~

  All rights reserved

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, media, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously.

  ~~~

  Edited by Kelly Hashway and Dawn Yacovetta

  Cover Design by Red Umbrella Graphics

  Formatting by Carolina Silva

  Acknowledgements

  Splintered Souls was such an honor to write. Several years ago, I’d finished writing my first draft of Curse of the Sphinx and was unsure of which path I wanted to take for publication. I was on vacation in Mexico with my family (then much smaller) and I stayed up late reading a book by Ednah Walters entitled Runes. I fell in love with Torin St. James and Raine Cooper. I hated Andris, and Cora made me laugh. I was so upset with Eirik for not acting on any of his feelings for Raine and then Cora. I devoured Runes and then Immortals, and preordered Grimnirs. I started following this brilliant author, Ednah Walters. The Runes series is a large part of why I chose to go indie, and the indie community is like a large family. One day, my path crossed with Ednah’s and the rest, as they say, is history.

  My biggest thank you is to her. Ednah, you’ve become a mentor, a friend, and a beautiful example. I adore you.

  And for Runes fans . . . Thank you for welcoming new authors into this amazing world.

  To my family, I appreciate your willingness to sacrifice as I live in alternate realities and talk to the voices in my head. Mostly, thank you for welcoming me back to reality, and making the real world a wonderful place for me to live. Jason, Jacob, Seth, and Anna, I will love you for all eternity.

  Kelly Hashway, your editing skills and knowledge of the Runes Universe really helped Splintered Souls to become the fabulous story that it is!

  Dawn Yacovetta… All polished up, thanks to you!

  Renegades! Thank you for your support, your encouragement, and especially your enthusiasm. Mythic Muses, if I succeed, it is in large part because of your support. Thank you for loving my words and worlds!

  Hat tip to John Cintrón for the help with translation!

  And you . . . the reader. There is power and hope in the stories we read. I hope you find a spark of inspiration and courage in Splintered Souls, and that you can see the beauty of coming through challenges and the strength found therein. Thank you for spending your time with me.

  Note to the Reader:

  When I started writing in 2009 I was naïve and impetuous. I thought a good story was all it took to sell books, and while that is crucial, there is so much more that goes into making a living as an author.

  YOU are the biggest catalyst for success. If you enjoy a story, please consider leaving a review. Reviews help other readers consider the investment of time and money in a particular book. You can share your favorite stories and authors with friends, in book groups, and on social media. You can join an author’s fan group, street team, or review team.

  Ultimately, it is the enthusiasm of READERS that determines the success of an author. Don’t be afraid to wield your power.

  Warmest regards,

  Raye

  Chapter 1

  Aricela Topaz stood in front of the soul she was supposed to collect, glaring at the stupid fool. If he weren’t dead already, she’d punch him. Again. Running her hand through her long dark hair, she scanned the horizon for emergency responders, but the only vehicle near the road was the man’s upside-down truck, its headlights shooting a beam of illumination across the dark desert.

  Not even an hour ago, she told him he shouldn’t be driving, but he wouldn’t listen to her. So, he’d passed out, and then when he jerked awake, he’d overcorrected and rolled the truck. Two flips in, his body was thrown, and he now lay in a broken heap on the black asphalt. It was only a matter of time before someone drove by and either called 911 or stopped to help.

  She’d like to be gone from the scene of the accident as soon as possible. Mostly, she was trying to avoid the Grimnir that would appear if she couldn’t get the cabron to follow her.

  “Listen,” she said to the brawny fighter. “It is an honor to be chosen. And, honestly, you’re not even worthy of it, so you should leap for the opportunity.” She waved him closer, hoping the textbook she’d read about using reverse psychology would work. It was a sad testament to how desperate she was becoming.

  He raised his left hand, his biceps visibly bulging in the now ripped tank, and flipped her off. “I’m not going anywhere with you, Witch.”

  Obviously, she hadn’t mastered the technique. Her frustration ballooned, and she wanted to correct him. She wasn’t a Witch. Witches had totally different powers. But she bit back the snarky comment.

  Headlights dotted the horizon, and anxiety slithered over her, leaving her skin chilled. She was running out of time—

  “Aricela,” Larissa called, stepping out of a portal through the only intact window on the jacked-up truck. The other Valkyrie was everything Aricela was not. Tall, willowy, pale, and fair, Larissa looked like she’d just stepped off a runway in Paris. “Your time is up. We need to go. Are you escorting him to Valhalla?”

  Aricela swallowed her frustration and looked at the bulky chunk of testosterone next to her. Grinding her teeth in frustration, she almost choked on the question to the chiseled man. “Are you going to let me take you?”

  He pointed to Larissa and asked, “Can she take me?”

  Aricela narrowed her eyes. She didn’t want to care that he was so put off by her. It probably hadn’t helped that she’d punched him in the bar. She looked at her mentor. “Would it be okay if you took him?”

  Larissa sighed. “Fine. But you’ll have to come, too. At least pretend that you’re making progress. No one believes me anymore when I say I’m delivering for you.”

  Of course not. They probably never did believe. But at least it kept the Council off Aricela’s back. She swallowed, pushing back the sense of failure. “Then let’s go. I don’t want to be around this babosa.”

  The man glared at her as if he’d understood the insult. “Piss off. You don’t even know me.”

  Maybe he did. But Aricela didn’t have to know him to know his type. He was handsome, sure. But professional athletes were all the same. They only had enough love in their hearts for themselves. Much like the Narcos.

  She waved away his words and pulled out her artavus With Larissa there, she wouldn’t be able to look in her book, but she’d done this rune enough. Aricela grabbed her bag off the back of the bike, a twinge of frustration that she’d have to let the Harley go, and crossed the street just as the car coming toward them screeched to a halt in front of the body.

  Kneeling on the sand, she drew the runic design on the mirrored window. Then, one by one, they stepped through.

  ~~~

  “The Council has set a date,” Larissa said with a small sympathetic smile. “I tried to talk them out of it, but half the time you don�
�t collect the souls you’re sent to get, and the rest of the time I bring them in.” The beautiful girl sighed as if it were her facing the Valkyrie Council. “Maybe it was wrong for me to push you to become a Valkyrie.”

  Aricela shifted in the leather bucket seat of Larissa’s sporty coupe. Rolling her eyes, she looked out at the desert landscape of the Wal-Mart parking lot. She’d known it was coming; she’d have to be an idiot not to. When no one had said anything to her last week with the fighter, she’d been surprised, and that had lulled her into a false sense of security. Even though she told herself she didn’t care, the nagging sense of failure was like a physical weight on her shoulders.

  Larissa’s brow creased right between her eyes, and her mouth pulled down into a frown to match. “You have one more chance, or they’ll send you to Hel to be a servant.”

  She closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead, as if she had a headache. The seconds ticked by, and the strawberry blonde continued to massage her temples.

  Aricela wanted to make a comment about a healing rune, but she knew better than to quip at her mentor when she was like this.

  Finally, the elder Valkyrie opened her eyes. She smiled, too brightly to be sincere, and said, “You could really wow them with this, Aricela. If you collect on this, I’m sure they’ll let the past go and there will be no further issues.”

  Aricela didn’t believe her at all. But she took a deep breath and forced her mouth into an equally false smile. “Bueno. A dónde vamos?”

  “Not we,” Larissa said with a shake of her head. “Just you. And you’re going to Kayville, Oregon.”

  Oregon. Just great. She’d stand out like a sore thumb. Aricela dropped her head in her hands, trying to find the words to reassure herself. What had her abuela told her?

  “Don’t get all depressed. You’ve got all the knowledge to do this, Aricela.”

  “I’ve had all the knowledge for years.” Ten, in fact. But having knowledge and being able to put it into action was not the same thing. She didn’t find it easy to talk to people, most especially men. And men made up the majority of the souls she’d been sent to collect.

  “You can do this; I know you can.”

  The reassurance made Aricela feel worse, and she glanced out the window. But the guilt of failure was her problem not Larissa’s, so she said, “Sure, I’ll make you proud.”

  She watched three young men get into a red truck. They looked like they were in high school, and she cringed knowing she was headed back to the games the teens played.

  “Hey.”

  Aricela turned away from the window to look at Larissa. The Idun-Valkyrie was fiddling with her hair, wrapping a golden curl around her finger and pulling on the gorgeous strands, a sure sign of nervousness.

  “I’m already proud of you,” Larissa said. “That’s why I gave you the opportunity to be an Immortal in the first place. You don’t need to convince me of your heart. I know your strength.” She rested her hand on Aricela’s knee. “But not every guy out there is a douche, and the girls only hate you because you hate them first. And all of that would be fine with me, if you were okay”—Larissa leaned forward and tapped Aricela’s chest—“in here. I want you to be proud of you.”

  Aricela shook her head. She had one proud moment in her life . . . No, make that two. The first one had ended with her brother and boyfriend selling her to the Narcos. And the second had ended her Mortal life. She looked out the window and saw the red truck pull out of the lot. The driver gunned it, and the tires squealed on the asphalt. What an idiot.

  “Andris said to say hello. He still asks about you every time I see him.”

  “Tell Andris to deal with the messes he already has.” The Valkyrie had changed the vicious Malina and her poor sister Ingrid, who was caught in between the two while she, not so secretly, was in love with Andris. “I wouldn’t go near him for a billion pesos.” Aricela blushed at the slip. “I mean a million dollars.”

  “Well, he asks about you all the same.”

  The space in the small car seemed to constrict. The attention from Andris made Aricela uncomfortable. To be fair, she didn’t like attention from anyone. But Andris seemed to see right through her. She couldn’t even stand talking about him.

  “Do you have my name?” Aricela was done. She just needed to get the details of her next assignment, and then she could flee.

  Larissa frowned as she studied Aricela with her pale blue gaze. “Someday you’ll find someone who will make you forget your past. You’ll see.”

  Not likely. If she lived to be a thousand years old, Aricela would never forget what had happened in Xtepal.

  “Do you have my name?” She repeated the question with a huff. It didn’t matter that Larissa thought she understood. Seeing the aftermath of the Narcos was nothing like living through the hell of it. “I’m ready to go.”

  The blonde shook her head. “I’ll make sure you get it in the next day or two. Just get settled and start school. Do your best to make friends.” She raised her eyebrows. “Seriously, make some friends. It will make your job so much easier if they trust you.”

  Aricela smiled. There was no point in arguing. Trust went two ways, and Aricela’s trust had shattered with the abuse she’d endured.

  Her brother had joined the drug traffickers after Xavier, her boyfriend, convinced him of how cool it was. He got new shoes and a gun, and initially, he’d only run small errands. Later, he got more secretive about his assignments. He’d told her he had to help find entertainment for the men staying at the governor’s mansion. He said he and Xavier were organizing a fútbol—American soccer—tournament, and they needed her to play. Everyone knew she was the best.

  But there was no tournament. No soccer at all. And Xavier had fooled several other girls with his playboy ways. And then her life became the abuse of greedy, selfish men taking what they could.

  Everyone coped with the horror differently. Some women did what they could to seize power in the hell where they now lived, even if it meant climbing over the backs of the other girls. Some women took their own lives to escape, and it would be a lie to say she hadn’t thought about suicide, too. They’d been treated like animals, kept in pens, raped, and beaten at the whim of the camellos. But Larissa had come. At first, Aricela and the other women thought she was an angel because the men couldn’t see her. The Idun-Valkyrie had told the prisoners that a group of men, calling themselves the Alto-defensa, was planning on taking down the Narcos and they would be freed.

  But there was no true escape.

  Chapter 2

  Aricela put her helmet in the locker, closed the door, and turned to face the mass of humanity swarming the halls. Cologne and perfume mixed with the smells of sneakers, sweat, and the underlying scent of disinfectant from the janitor’s futile attempt at cleaning last night. Another breath and the smell of overcooked vegetables wafted down from the cafeteria.

  Aricela traced a rune over her skin, and the smells faded.

  She studied the students as they chatted and moved through the atrium. It didn’t take a genius to see the cliques that existed. But this was a moderately wealthy area, and the brand names the students were wearing were similarly reflected in the vehicles outside. Even with all the money, it was easy to pick out the nerds, the cheerleaders, the goths, the artists, and the athletes. There were those just trying to get by and those who foolishly wanted to stand out.

  Her trained eye went immediately to the young men with shirts tight enough to show off their muscles. Invariably, those would be the football players. After a dozen years, Aricela knew how to pick them out. Americans had their own version of football, as well as the traditional one they called soccer. Football players seemed to have more brawn than brain, but she was sure most of that came from the brain damage incurred by the trauma of getting tackled. She’d only ever been asked to reap one football player, but she made the mistake of telling him she thought he was an idiot.

  Her gaze was drawn to the table of girls in s
hort cheerleader skirts. Their laughter and chatter grated on Aricela, like nails on a chalkboard, but where the cheerleaders were, so were the athletes. However, the young men at the table stood on the fringes of the conversation, which meant the star athletes hadn’t arrived yet.

  Heat unfurled in her chest, and a force slammed into her, pulling at her, as if to make her turn around. Anxiety coursed through her. What could that be? Aricela had put fresh runes on before leaving her apartment, so there was nothing to explain this.

  “Hey, little mama.”

  The male speaker behind her had a hint of an accent, just enough that she could tell he spoke Spanish at home, or that he used to. She could feel his presence to her left.

  “Did you just fall from heaven?”

  Santa madre. What an ass.

  Clearly, the feeling was a warning. Aricela hated being short. For some inexplicable reason it made men erroneously believe she wanted them to flirt with her. She took a deep breath, turned, and slammed the heel of her palm into the solar plexus of the man next to her. To his credit, he flexed his abs only a second too late.

  “Don’t hit on me,” she snapped, and she heard him wheeze from the force of impact. Served him right. She glanced up to continue yelling at him and froze while her heart pounded in a weird rhythm of excitement.

  The young man who was doubled over, staring at her with wide eyes, had not been the one to speak to her. He held his hand to his stomach while he shook his head, his dark hair falling forward and brushing his cheekbones.

  Aricela almost felt guilty until he straightened up and narrowed his eyes. His thin frame was far from scrawny, but he wore a loose black T-shirt that concealed how ripped he was. His eyes were the color of the deepest part of the ocean, the color of secrets.

  “You shouldn’t hit,” he said and brushed his black hair away from his face.

  His voice was deep and rough, as if he didn’t use it enough, and it felt like they were the only two people in the world. A spark of heat unfurled deep in her belly as she stared at him. The edge of his sleeve inched up, and she was distracted by the simple tattoo on the inside of his wrist. One straight line and another over the top of it, the middle of which was a semicircle, the astrological sign for a scale, symbolizing balance and justice. She reached forward to touch it.