Before I Wake
Authors: Rachel Vincent
I died on a Thursday—
killed by a monster intent on
stealing my soul.
The good news? He didn’t get it.
The bad news?
Turns out not even death will get you out of high
school...Covering up her own murder was one thing, but faking life is much
harder than Kaylee Cavanaugh expected. After weeks spent “recovering,” she’s
back in school, fighting to stay visible to the human world, struggling to fit
in with her friends and planning time alone with her new reaper boyfriend.
But to earn her keep in the human world, Kaylee must reclaim
stolen souls, and when her first assignment brings her face-to-face with an old
foe, she knows the game has changed. Her immortal status won’t keep her safe.
And this time Kaylee isn’t just gambling with her own life....
“Well, look who survived her own demise.”
“What the hell are you doing here, Thane?” And how had he
escaped Avari, the hellion Tod had given him to?
“This is all your fault, little Miss Won’t-Stay-Dead. You and
that blond reaper…”
Chills crawled up my arms. “What’s my fault? What’s
coming?”
A slow, creepy smile spread over his face. “Until next time,
little
bean sidhe…
”
“No!” I realized he was about to blink out of the alley, and
in my desperation to take the soul he carried before he left, I accidentally
unleashed my
bean sidhe
wail at full power.
Top volume.
Praise for the Soul Screamers series
by
New York Times
bestselling author
RACHEL
VINCENT
“
Twilight
fans will love
it.”
—
Kirkus Reviews
“The story rocks (for teens and adults, I might
add).”
—
Book Bitch
“Fans of those vampires will enjoy this new crop of
otherworldly beings.”
—
Booklist
“I’m so excited about this series.”
—
The Eclectic Book Lover
“A must for any reading wish list.”
—
Tez Says
“A book like this is one of the reasons that I add authors to
my auto-buy list. This is definitely a keeper.”
—
TeensReadToo.com
Also by
New York
Times
bestselling author
Rachel Vincent
in reading order
from
Harlequin TEEN
Soul Screamers
“My Soul to Lose”*
“Reaper”
MY SOUL TO
TAKE*
MY SOUL TO SAVE*
MY SOUL TO KEEP
MY SOUL TO STEAL
IF I
DIE
“Never to Sleep”
*also available in SOUL SCREAMERS VOLUME ONE
from
HARLEQUIN MIRA
The Shifters
STRAY
ROGUE
PRIDE
PREY
SHIFT
ALPHA
Unbound
BLOOD BOUND
SHADOW BOUND
OATH BOUND
This is for every reader who’s ever stayed up too late to read
just one more chapter. For every reader with a paperback in a purse or backpack
or glove compartment. For everyone with an ebook on a phone or tablet or laptop.
For everyone listening to an audio book in the car, at the gym, or on the
train.
This is for every reader the librarians know by name.
For everyone who’s ever said, “You
have
to read this!”
Thank you all so much for making Kaylee and her friends a part
of your lives.
1
I WAS A
virgin sacrifice. And yeah, it’s just as creepy as it sounds. I died on a
Thursday, at twenty-seven minutes after midnight, killed by a monster intent on
stealing my soul. The good news? He didn’t get it. The bad news? Turns out not
even death will get you out of high school… .
* * *
I’ve always hated Mondays, but this particular Monday, a
beautiful day in late April, seemed ready to deliver its very own brand of hell.
I stood in front of the bathroom mirror at seven-thirty in the morning, staring
at myself, trying to decide exactly how alive I should look. In the movies,
people are always faking their own deaths, but I couldn’t think of anyone
else—real or fictional—who’d faked survival. I’d have to blaze this trail all on
my own.
How pale would a person look twenty-nine days after being
stabbed to death? That would depend on the severity of the wound, right? On the
number of organs injured? On the amount of blood lost? Since no one at school
knew any of those details, they wouldn’t know if my performance was off. So I
could play the part however I wanted. Right?
No one had to know that my pale skin and sweaty palms were
really the result of a colossal case of first-day-back nerves.
My stomach churned as I stared at my reflection, wondering how
I could possibly feel so different, yet look exactly the same as I had before I
died, except for the new scar. Exactly the same as I would look next year, and
the year after that, and a decade after that, and for as many centuries as my
afterlife lasted.
“Kaylee! Breakfast!” my father called from the kitchen.
“I’m dead, Dad,” I called back, dropping my hairbrush into the
drawer. “I don’t eat anymore.”
A minute later, my father appeared in the doorway in a
grease-splattered T-shirt and jeans, frowning at me. “You don’t
have
to eat. That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t. I think
you’d feel a lot better if you had something warm in your stomach.”
I turned and leaned against the counter, crossing my arms over
my chest. “That’s not really how it works.”
“No arguments. I made pancakes and bacon. I want you at the
table in five minutes.”
I sighed as his footsteps retreated toward the kitchen. He was
trying. I wasn’t sure
what
he was trying, but he was
serious about it.
I crossed the hall into my room for a pair of shoes and blinked
in surprise at the empty space at the center of my room, where the bed used to
be. It had been four weeks since we’d gotten rid of the ruined mattress and
sheets, and I still wasn’t used to the new purple quilt that had replaced the
blue comforter my psychotic math teacher had bled out on.
After my death, I’d avoided my room for nearly a week until my
father figured out what I’d been too embarrassed to tell him—that I couldn’t go
in there without seeing it all in my head. Reliving my own death.
That night, he and Tod had rearranged every piece of furniture
I owned until my room was unrecognizable. That was three weeks ago, and I still
couldn’t get used to seeing my bed against the wall, my desk slanted across one
corner of the room. But this time when I glanced into that corner, I couldn’t
help but smile.
Tod sat in my desk chair, his curls golden in the glow from my
bedside lamp, his eyes as blue as the ocean, the one time I’d seen it. Styx was
curled up on my bed, asleep, paying the reaper no attention whatsoever. Half
Pomeranian, half Netherworld guard dog, she was the fiercest, most dangerous six
pounds of frizzy fur and pointy teeth I’d ever seen, other than her littermates.
She was also a living, breathing, growling security system, bred to warn me when
danger approached on either side of the world barrier.
It had taken her weeks to understand that growling at Tod
wasn’t going to get rid of him.
Tod’s brother—my ex—was wrestling with that same
conclusion.
Tod stood as soon as he saw me, and I couldn’t resist a smile,
in spite of the nerves still twisting my insides into knots.
My arms slid around his neck and delicious, tiny little sparks
shot up my spine as his hand settled at my waist, and I secretly marveled at the
fact that I was allowed to touch him whenever I wanted.
This was still new, me and Tod. Our relationship was only a
month old, yet somehow, he was the only thing that still seemed to fit, since my
death. Going through the motions in the rest of my life—an ironic term, if I’d
ever heard one—now felt like trying to fit into clothes I’d outgrown. Everything
was uncomfortable, and too tight, and not as bright as I remembered.
But Tod was the same. Only better.
“Aren’t you supposed to be at work? Eventually Levi’s going to
notice that you keep skipping out,” I said when I finally had to let him go.
Levi, his boss, had a soft spot for Tod, but in their line of work, leniency
could only go so far. Tod was a reaper—more than two and a half years dead, but
perpetually nearly eighteen. He worked the midnight-to-noon shift at the local
hospital, reaping the souls of those scheduled to die on his watch.
Except when he was delivering pizza. And helping me pretend I
was still alive.
“I had a break and I thought you might be nervous this morning.
So I brought you this.” He handed me a paper cup of coffee, and I took a
cautious sip. Caramel latte. My favorite, and the only edible thing I still
seemed to crave since my unfortunate demise. “And this.” He spread his arms,
showing off a physique even death couldn’t mar, and I wanted to touch him some
more. Then some more after that. “I figure one or the other will make you feel
better.”
“Both. They both make me feel better.” I pulled him close for a
kiss, then didn’t want to let him go. “I don’t wanna go back to school
today.”
“So don’t. Come hang out with me at work.” Tod dropped back
into my desk chair and swiveled to face me while I knelt to grab my sneakers
from beneath my bed. “We can play naughty dress up with the hospital gowns and
rearrange the supply closets.”
“Isn’t that dangerous? What if they can’t find some important
drug or equipment in an emergency?”
Tod shrugged. “Nobody’s gonna die without my help, anyway, so
what’s the harm?”
The harm? Potential brain damage. Paralysis. And all kinds of
other nonlethal catastrophes. Fortunately, his grin said he was kidding, so I
didn’t have to go through with the lecture.
“Kaylee!” my dad shouted, and Tod sniffed in the direction of
the hall.
“Is that bacon?”
“And pancakes.” I shoved my foot into the sneaker and tugged on
the laces to tighten it. “He thinks I should start my first day back at school
with a healthy breakfast. I think he’s been spending too much time with your
mom.” In addition to being an amazing amateur baker, Harmony Hudson was the only
fellow female
bean sidhe
I knew.
“It’s not a bad idea,” Tod said. “Breakfast is my third
favorite meal of the day.”
“Not today.” Standing, I tugged him closer so I could slide my
hand behind his neck, my fingers playing in the soft curls that ended there. “I
think he needs some father-daughter time.”
As grateful as my father was for everything Tod had done to try
to save my life, he’d had his fill of houseguests for a while. Tod and I had
spent nearly every waking moment together since my death, and for two people who
didn’t need sleep, that was a lot of moments, even with his jobs and my training
standing in the way.
“Oh, fine. Enjoy your pancakes and homework.”
“Thanks. Enjoy your sick people. Will I see you at lunch?”
The blues in his irises swirled like cobalt flames, and
something deep inside me smoldered. “You’ll be the only one who sees me. You
don’t need to eat, anyway, right?”
“Oh,
now
I don’t need to eat…
.”
He pulled me close again, and that kiss was longer, deeper.
Hotter. Touching Tod made me feel more alive than anything else had since the
moment my heart stopped beating.
“Kaylee,
please
come eat
something!” my dad yelled, and Tod groaned in frustration. He held me tighter
for just a second, then stepped back and let his hand trail down my arm slowly.
Then he was gone, and for a moment, I felt empty.
That was a scary moment, but one I couldn’t quite shake. I’d
thought that being dead-but-still-there would feel a lot like being alive, but I
was wrong. I felt like I was out of sync with the world. Like the planet had
kept spinning while I was gone, and now that I was back, I couldn’t catch
up.
I grabbed my latte and headed for the kitchen, where I dropped
into my chair at the card table we’d been meaning to replace with a real one
since my dad had moved back to town seven months ago. The plate in front of me
held four pancakes and—I swear—half a pound of bacon. Fried, not microwaved, as
evidenced by the grease splattered all over the stove and adjacent countertop.
My dad was serious about this traditional home-life thing.
It was kinda cute.
My father pulled out his own chair and started to hand me one
of the coffee mugs he held, but then he noticed the latte, and his smile slipped
a little. “Tod?”
“Yeah, but he’s gone. He was just trying to help.”
He set both mugs in front of his own plate and picked up his
fork. “I’m going to assume the steaming cup of Starbucks means he wasn’t here
all night?”
Translation:
Your undead boyfriend is
supposed to be gone by eleven so you can pretend to sleep.
“He works nights, Dad.” But we both knew that didn’t mean
anything, when the commute was instantaneous.
For the first couple of days after my death, my father had
tried to stay up all night to make sure there were no unauthorized visits, and I
didn’t bother to point out how futile his efforts were. If Tod and I didn’t want
to be seen or heard, we wouldn’t be. Both reapers and extractors—my official new
title with the reclamation department—had selective visibility, audibility, and
corporeality. Basically, we could choose who saw and heard us, and whether or
not we existed physically on the human plane.
Sounds cool, I know, but it comes with a hell of a price.
My dad set his fork down and I caught a rare glimpse of the
concern swirling in his eyes. “I’m worried about you, Kaylee.”
“Don’t be. Nothing’s changed.” But that wasn’t true, and even
if it had been, it wouldn’t have set him at ease. My life wasn’t exactly normal
before I died, and death had done nothing to improve that.
“You don’t eat. You hardly ever talk anymore, and I haven’t
seen you watch TV or pick up a book in days. I walk into your room, and half the
time you’re not there, even when you’re there.”
“I’m working on that,” I mumbled, swirling a bite of pancake in
a puddle of syrup. “Corporeality is harder than it looks. It takes practice.”
And concentration.
“Are you sure you’re ready for school? We could give it another
week.” But he seemed to regret the words as soon as he’d said them. Another week
off would mean another week of me sitting around the house doing nothing when I
wasn’t training as an extractor, and that’s what was worrying him in the first
place.
“I need to go. They all know today’s the day.”
“They” were my teachers, classmates, and the local television
stations. I was big news—the girl who’d survived being stabbed by her own math
teacher. My father had stopped answering the home phone, and we’d had to change
my cell number when someone leaked it to the press. They all wanted to know what
it was like to nearly die. To kill the man who’d tried to kill me. They wanted
to know how I’d survived.
None of them could ever know the truth—that I hadn’t survived.
That was part of the deal—allowing me to live my afterlife like my murder had
never happened. Protecting my secret meant keeping up with schoolwork and
work-work, in addition to my new duties extracting souls from those who
shouldn’t have them.
“If anything goes wrong, I want you to call me,” my father
said, and I nodded. I wasn’t going to tell him that if anything went wrong, I
could blink out of school and into my own room before he could even get to his
car in the parking lot at work. He knew that. He was just trying to help and to
stay involved, and I loved him for it. For that, and for the pancakes, even if I
had no real desire to eat them.
We both sipped our coffee, and I noticed that his appetite
seemed to have disappeared, too. Then he set his mug down and picked up a strip
of bacon. “You know, I’ve been thinking about this Friday… .” He left the
sentence hanging while he took a bite.
“What’s this Friday?” I asked, and my father frowned.
“Your birthday, Kaylee.”
For a moment, I could only blink at him, mentally denying the
possibility, while I counted the days in my head. Time had lost all meaning over
the past month. Tod said that was normal—something about absent circadian
rhythms—but it didn’t seem possible that I could have forgotten my own
birthday.
“I’m turning seventeen…” I whispered.
Except that I wasn’t. The anniversary of my birth would come
and go, but I’d still be sixteen and eleven-twelfths. I’d be sixteen and
eleven-twelfths forever—at least physically. I would always look too young to
vote. Too young to drink. Too young to drive a rental car, should that urge ever
strike. And none of those limitations had ever seemed more pointless. What did
it matter?
What did
any
of it matter,
anymore?
“So, who do you want to invite to the party?” My dad picked up
his mug and sipped, waiting for my answer.
I frowned. “I don’t want a party.” Very few people knew I
hadn’t really lived, and of those, Nash and Sabine—my ex and
his
ex—currently hated me for framing Nash for my
murder. I’d had no choice, and I’d accepted the duties of my afterlife mostly to
unframe Nash—if I wasn’t dead, he couldn’t have killed me. But I couldn’t blame
him for hating me.