Page 11 of A Soul’s Awakening

The auctioneer strutted forward, his velvet coat catching the sunlight as he spread his arms wide like a performer greeting his adoring fans. His curled mustache framed a grin too sharp to be friendly. His eyes, icy blue and alert, swept over the crowd like a vulture scanning for fresh meat.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he announced, his voice dripping with theatrics. “We have a most exclusive treat this afternoon. Not trinkets. Not tools. But living, breathing specimens of magical craftsmanship.”

He gestured toward Jordan, who was still fighting the rift wardens as they kept him from squirming. “This one is stubborn as a mule, but a fine purchase for anyone who has some pent-up anger to unleash. Stab him, poison him … no matter what you do to him, he’ll always come back to life. He’s been in our care for years now, and for the first time this evening, we’re lending him out to one lucky person for twenty-four hours.”

Jordan spat at his boots. The auctioneer only laughed, rubbing his boot on Jordan’s back like it was a rehearsed part of the show. “Ah, such a spirited individual. You’ll have fun breaking him in. Let’s start the bid at fifty-five hundred marks.”

I had no idea how much a “mark” was worth in this realm, but the price skyrocketed in mere seconds. Paddles raised and buyers shouted numbers.

“Fifty-five thousand!”

“Seventy-five thousand!”

“Ninety thousand!”

The crowd was a mix of mystery and power, the show a spectacle and reminder of who was in charge of this place. Commoners looked on from the back, painfully aware of the fact that at any moment, they could be the ones on the chopping block. Some of them might have already had the unwanted pleasure.

Up front and center were the bidders, both alive and dead. Many flaunted their money and power with high-end clothing and a prestigious air of confidence while others chose to remain hidden, wearing fancy masks to conceal their identity.

“Do I hear ninety-five?” When silence came, he made a dramatic gesture with his hand and a stream of purple magic leapt from his fingertips out toward the woman who had secured her bid. “Sold to the lovely woman in red. Please make your way to the back of the stage to complete your purchase and claim your merchandise.”

The woman delightfully clapped, following Jordan as he was dragged off the stage, kicking and screaming.

Then the auctioneer’s attention snapped to me.

He strolled over, boots clicking on the wood, and crouched just close enough for me to smell the sweet rot of his cologne. “And this one,” he said, lifting my chin with a smooth finger, “is a rarity. He carries death itself in his veins. For those of you no longer alive, he’s your ticket to return to the world of the living. And for those who are living, well, here’s your chance to avoid death.”

The crowd murmured, whispering possibilities no one thought possible, and before the auctioneer could even set a starting number, bids were being shouted.

“Two-hundred thousand!” It was Leon who made the first bid.

“My, what an eager bunch you all are.” The auctioneer stood tall again, fiddling with his mustache as he chuckled. “Do I hear three hundred?”

“Three-fifty!” The woman clinician from earlier flapped her paddle in the air.

“Four hundred!” This time it was the man who wanted to use me as a sex toy.

The three of them went back and forth. Leon backed down first, then finally the woman bowed out. The middle-aged man rubbed his hands together and licked his lips. Fear seized my heart at the thought of that slimeball possessing my body and using it for pleasure.

“Come on, ladies and gentlemen. I know you can do better than that. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity.” As the auctioneer’s eyes drifted across the crowd, a new voice cut through the chatter like a blade. “Six-hundred thousand.”

I vaguely remembered glimpsing the ominous man from inside the tent. While others hid behind cheap masks, pretending at secrecy, he cloaked himself completely, his hood swallowing every hint of who he was.

The two of them entered a shouting match, calling out bid after bid as the number kept rising. My mouth was dry, my hands trembling so hard the chains around them rattled. Anger burned beneath the fear, sharp and hot, but useless. I wanted to scream, to lash out, to berate them on how disgusting they were to treat people like objects. But all I could do was kneel there, every breath a battle, as these two strangers debated how much my life was worth like I was a piece of meat on display.

Eventually, the bidding stopped.

“Sold to the man in the fine tailored suit. Toby, please take this man backstage so our esteemed guest can complete his transaction.” I was hauled to my feet and jostled down the steps by a muscled rift warden. “That concludes our auction for this evening, folks! Join us next week to see what fresh surprises we have in store for you.”

No. No. This couldn’t be happening. Panic gripped my chest, and my vision tunneled, the edges of the world blurring as my heartbeat thundered in my ears.

I stood in front of a long table, the bald man signing some paperwork as he paid for his prize. Suddenly, I came to my senses, my body reacting on its own as I twisted around and elbowed the rift warden in his gut. Caught off guard, he grunted, unleashing a surge of magic through his hand that ripped through me like a current of lightning, every nerve in my body screaming in response. Retaliating, I tried to use my magic, sparks of energy fluttering on my fingertips, but the chains around my wrists glowed brighter and tightened, letting that familiar drain of my magic course through my veins. Lines down my arm momentarily flashed silver.

The rift warden snickered. “Nice try, kid. But even if you manage to get the better of me, the barrier surrounding this place would kill you in an instant if you tried to escape.”

I didn’t care. I flattened both hands in front of me, magic flaring as I thrust the sign language spell in his face. The chains limited my movement and absorbed the strength of the magic, but I did manage to knock the guy off balance. An excruciating sizzling sensation boiled my veins, the silver lines darkening.

“Theo!” Jordan’s cry echoed from behind me as the woman who bought him was hauling him out of the tent, his hands bound tightly behind his back. With a sudden jerk of his head, he caught her square in the nose. She yelped, stumbling back, and for a brief second, Jordan’s glare met mine.