Page 5 of A Soul’s Awakening

If where I had just come from resembled Salem, then this place was the underworld version of the city of Boston, and we had landed right in the center of Boston Common. Beyond us, rising on all sides, concrete buildings surrounded the open square in blocky, weather-stained structures that loomed over the ramshackle stalls.

“Welcome to the underveil.” Leon scoffed. “What? You didn’t think I was really going to take you to him, did you?” He stopped to curse at someone who cut in front of him, then glanced over in my direction.

“Kill two dumb birds with one stone. I knew you’d find your way here to come rescue him. You’re the bait to lure him out of hiding, assuming he’s still alive. In the meantime, there’s something else I need you for. Syndicate business.”

Caspian’s magic recoiled inside me. “Wait … Syndicate?”

Leon slapped his face, muttering like I was an idiot for not piecing this together. “Look around you, idiot. Who did you think the rift wardens were? Fancy death police? They’re Syndicate employees. They monitor both worlds, looking for trouble and dealing with it. Most of those troublemakers end up here in the underveil. Forget about trying to leave. There’s a barrier around this place hiding it from being found, and blocking anyone from coming in or out without the Syndicate’s consent.”

All kinds of people gawked at us—fae with luminous skin that glinted in the starry night sky, demons with horns tucked beneath hoods or left exposed, witches marked by shifting runes along their wrists and collarbones, and things I couldn’t name at all without feeling like the word itself might bite back. All of them appeared to have these silver lines snaking up their arms and necks.

Only one woman dared to step into Leon’s path. Scales shimmered beneath the dirt smeared across her skin, catching what little light there was in fractured flashes. Her eyes were iridescent, shifting through colors like liquid glass—unsteady, but focused. She was malnourished, so thin I could see the sharp lines of her hollow cheeks beneath the grime. Her ribs pressed against her skin with every shallow breath, but she didn’t look away.

“I sense there’s something troubling you, Mr. Rift Warden, Sir.” She dangled a jar with murky liquid in front of Leon’s face. I took a cautious step back, and it was only when she started swirling it around did I realize there was an eyeball inside. “This eye used to belong to a powerful seer who could see vivid scenes into the future. If it’s answers you seek, perhaps this exceedingly rare magical item is exactly what you need. Of course, it will come at a price. Only one is left in existence. A wolf ate the other.”

Leon slapped her hand aside. “I don’t need your cheap magic junk. Get out of my face.”

The woman backed off quickly, retreating with her head down, urgency replacing whatever courage had brought her forward. No one else bothered us after that. By the time we reached the edge of the market, the noise had thinned, the chaos giving way to something quieter and more controlled. Leon didn’t slow as he dragged me along, leading us into the heart of the city.

It reminded me of Boston in all the wrong ways. The streets narrowed, twisting into winding hills that forced the buildings close together, looming overhead. But where the market had been rough and desperate, this area was polished. The people here were better dressed, wearing tailored coats, clean fabrics, and flaunting their wealth with magic objects woven into their appearance and worn openly. They moved with purpose, with restraint. And unlike the market, they didn’t gawk. They noticed, then looked the other way.

Leon sighed in frustration. “If that bastard demon hadn’t stolen my dagger, we would’ve been there by now. He ruins everything he gets involved with.”

The insult landed harder than it should have.

I could complain about him. I could get angry at him. But hearing Leon spit venom at someone I cared about made something fiercely protective rise in my chest.

My jaw tightened. “You’re an asshole,” I shot back instantly. “You don’t get to talk about him like that. He’s more capable than you could ever dream to be.”

Leon stopped walking. “Oh? Did I hit a nerve? There’s a reason we say that jackass has ‘mediocre magic.’ He can’t do anything right.”

“Take that back!” And this time, in my blind rage, I lunged at him. No magic answered me, only raw, useless fury, but I threw everything I had into it, my bound hands swinging up across my chest aiming for his skull. I didn’t make contact.

“I am not paid enough to deal with this shit!” Leon moved faster than I expected. His hand shot up, catching my wrists mid-swing, the chains snapping tight with a metallic crack that jolted through my arms. The force of it twisted my balance, and before I could recover, he yanked me forward and swung me. “You asked for this, Theo.”

The world lurched sideways. Glass shattered as my shoulder slammed through a storefront window, wood splintering under the impact as I hit the floor hard enough to knock the breath clean out of me. The sound of conversation died instantly, replaced by the scrape of chairs, startled movements, and the smell of whiskey.

I barely had time to suck in air before he was on me. Leon stepped through the broken frame like it didn’t exist, grabbing the front of my jacket and hauling me up just enough to drive me back into a nearby table. It cracked under us, drinks spilling, bodies scrambling out of the way.

I swung again—sloppy, desperate, fueled by anger more than sense. My fist clipped his jaw this time, just enough to turn his head.

“Hey! Hey, you assholes need to knock it off! My bar will not be destroyed by your childish argument!” A female bartender crept up behind him, whipping him across the backside of his head with her towel before turning her attention to me. She frowned when she saw the silver chains restricting my movement.

“You okay?”

Her grin was a pleasant, friendly face lighting up the space around her, green eyes twinkling with mischief and warmth. Her dark, worn trousers were tucked into sturdy boots and a leather belt hung low around her waist, carrying her arsenal of bar tools.

“Yeah. Thanks.” I raised my hands to wipe away a soggy napkin plastered to my face.

The bartender tossed me the towel. “I’m Brie.”

“Theo.”

She held out her hand to help me up, and something about the contact made my thoughts snag for a second. Her skin was warm, unlike everything else I’ve encountered in the underworld, and there was a steady, grounded pressure in her grip. Before I could register what that meant, Leon stormed over.

“You bitch! How dare you interfere with a rift warden! You’ll pay for—”

Brie wagged a finger at him, chipped black nail polish peeling at the edges, traces of that same silver magic tracing up her arm. “No, you will pay for that window and all the damage you just caused to my bar! Now get out before I have George kick your ass!”