Soul Weaver by Hailey Edwards Read Free Book Online

had taken a low-paying job where the most taxing question he would ever ask was, “Would you like me to double bag?” Because the grocer shared the same block as the local elementary school, and he wanted to work close enough that he heard the bell ring.
    Jerking his gaze from the empty kitchen, the man circled toward the doorway to his right. He chuckled as if to reassure himself. “Damn storm must be blowing shit around.” He rammed his shoulder against the side door until the latch caught; then he chained and bolted the door shut.
    With that task handled, the man went to the sink and scrubbed his hands. He was meticulous as he cleaned his nail beds. White suds turned pink as he scrubbed his hands and up his forearms.
    The sinking sensation in Nathaniel’s stomach worsened. He staggered toward the counter. It was then he saw the man was holding a pink plastic ring, the kind that cost a quarter in a gumball machine. The man smoothed his thumb across the rose on top and brownish flakes fell into the sink basin. Using a toothbrush, he scrubbed it clean, then set it on a wrinkled paper towel to dry.
    Despite this mark’s preference for girls, a child was a child, and all Nathaniel saw was Bran. The fight with Saul, the hurt on Bran’s face, the desperate longing for Nathaniel to be the father Saul couldn’t be, all crashed over him. That thin cord of restraint snapped and Nathaniel snarled.
    Staring into this man’s eyes, Nathaniel saw only satisfaction in the murky, green depths. The kind of sick contentment no amount of time spent in a cage or with a counselor would cure. After all, if rehabilitation had been possible or deserved, the man wouldn’t have found his way onto Delphi’s list.
    Anticipation made Nathaniel’s hands shake as he donned his pendant and his human façade.
    “What you’ve done can’t be forgiven.” His voice boomed in his ears. The mark jumped back a step, clutching his chest. He gaped at Nathaniel as understanding registered across his features. Blood drained from his face. Indecision froze him to the spot. Nathaniel advanced on him and placed his palm square over the man’s wildly racing heart. “You’ve taken innocence not yours to have.”
    His fingers, no longer incorporeal, sank into the man’s chest.
    Horror rounded the mark’s eyes. His mouth fell open on a primal scream.
    Nathaniel relished the sound, let it feed the darkness welling inside him.
    No. He gritted his teeth. This is not me; this is not who I am. Taking his pendant, he wrapped it tight around his wrist. The mark whimpered when Nathaniel’s hand vanished before their eyes.
    “Please.” The man panted while he pawed at Nathaniel’s wrist. “I can change. I can.”
    “No. You can’t.” Nathaniel pushed his fingers deeper. “You’re a rabid dog that must be put down for the good of those who would lie ahead of you and all those you’ve already left behind.”
    There, to his right. Nathaniel closed his hand around the oily swath of soul and gave it a tug.
    The man’s protuberant eyes widened even farther. Even his bulbous nose quivered.
    “Enough,” he said to himself, and ripped the man’s soul free of its mooring. The mark’s body hit the ground with a hard thump.
    Nathaniel stuffed the soul into his bag and slumped against the counter. When he could breathe again, he tore paper towels from the roll and cleaned his hand. Then he mopped his forehead and staggered from the kitchen.
    One more collection and he could go home, scrub his skin raw, and forget tonight happened.
    Nathaniel stepped from worm-eaten planks onto the glossy tile of his second mark’s bathroom floor. He shook his head to clear the tendrils of connection with his previous mark. It didn’t help. His addled mind was swamped with sensation, and his hand shook around his shears.
    This taste of psychic burnout must be why Delphi kept harvesters on a strict one-harvest-per-twenty-four-hour schedule, but it was too late to turn back now.