Soul Marked: Stones & Curses Series Book 2, page 1
Soul Marked
STONES & CURSES
BOOK TWO
LISSA BOLTS
Copyright © 2022 by Lissa Bolts
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Edited by Morgan Macedo, Glasswing Editing, LLC www.glasswingediting.com
Cover Illustration by Veronika Fedorova
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Acknowledgments
More By The Author…
Connect With Me…
About The Author…
For those who loved the last cliffhanger…
Buckle up, buttercup.
One
A groan pushed through my lips as I dug the heels of my palms into my eyelids. It felt like someone had taken a pickaxe to my brain.
I squinted up at the ceiling of my apartment while the sunlight filtering through the window assaulted my retinas. A wave of regret washed over me.
What did I do?
I pressed a pillow to my face. Everything hurt and… I’m hungover.
Why was I hungover?
Rolling out of bed, I carefully made my way down the stairs and toward the kitchen. Coffee. Coffee would solve all my problems. That and copious amounts of painkillers. Then maybe I could make some sense of what was going on.
“Bailey?” I called, following up with a quick whistle that I immediately regretted as it rattled about in my hollow brain.
My canine bestie didn’t answer. He was probably asleep on the couch—his go-to spot for watching passersby on the street.
Ugh. My head.
I could barely think past the pressure currently trying to split my skull in two.
That gnawing sense of guilt coursed through me again. Had I done something wrong? I must have, but for the life of me, I couldn’t recall what.
Filling the coffee pot with water, my eyes flitted up to the window.
My jaw went slack. The coffee pot slipped from my fingers, sending water splashing across the counter and down the front of my clothes. I spun, my gaze darting around the room.
That was my kitchen table. My pictures on the wall. My rug with a stain on the corner from the time Jess dropped a box of wine. All of that was mine.
I swiveled back to the window.
That view?
There were plenty of things I could say about that view, but one thing I could not say was that it was mine.
Impossibly high mountains greeted me, their tips disappearing into the clouds. Grey stone buildings dotted the hillside. They looked like a fusion of Greco-Roman and… I didn’t know what. The Shire? The Sound of Music?
Everything was layered with broad, green strokes of luscious plant life. It looked like a damn painting. Rain drizzled from the clouds, sprinkling into puddles on the wet earth. A lake glistened in the distance, and I could make out a few boats on the water.
My breathing turned ragged as my mind worked desperately to make sense of the situation. To recount, well… anything that could explain this.
I was coming up frustratingly short.
Sliding down the cabinets, I tucked myself into the corner. My head dropped to my knees as I hugged my legs to my chest.
Am I dead? This is the afterlife, isn’t it?
The wind picked up, howling as rain began pelting the window. My attention dropped to my arm and I let out a keening sound I hardly recognized as something that could come from me. My marks were gone. The skin of my left arm was completely bare. Unblemished.
Clean.
My panicked gaze slipped to my other arm and I choked on a breath as I caught sight of the swirling patterns of blue scales. The intricate designs shimmered in the hazy light.
The dragon.
I’d gotten these marks from the dragon.
Then Rafe and I had…
Rafe.
I saw red as anger surged inside of me. The storm outside seemed to match my mood as a boom of thunder shook the walls. Everything came crashing back like a hurricane.
That asshole had done something to me.
He’d taken me.
He’d drugged me.
More thunder cracked overhead. Wind whistled through the crack beneath the window. When I found that angel-faced demon spawn, I’d kill him. That crush I’d had on him before? Long gone. Snuffed out like a single match and cast aside. Left behind… in another realm, possibly.
My head continued to pound as I got to my feet. Sudden movement drew my eyes to the window once again.
Someone was out there.
With a screech, my back slammed into the edge of the countertop in my haste to get away. Pain spasmed down my spine. That was going to leave a mark.
Wide eyes with thick lashes blinked back at me. I threw open a drawer beside me and grabbed the first pointy object I could reach, which happened to be a butcher knife.
Back at the window, a small hand popped up, doing a little finger wave. My chest heaving, I slowly took in more details. Wet, shoulder-length curly hair framed a mischievous face. A very young mischievous face.
“The hell?”
The boy used his knuckles to rap softly on the glass before doing a pantomime of me opening the window.
I shook my head because no way was I letting some innocent-looking monster into my house, only to have him end up being the kind of thing that disembowels people, then slurps their insides like spaghetti.
Yeah, I have trust issues.
He gave a dramatic pout before pulling something from a pack on his back and holding it up to the glass. It took me a second to recognize it as a book. A very familiar-looking book. One that I’d borrowed from Jack and happened to be titled Jinn Stone. A book that definitely shouldn’t be here.
With a huff, I marched to the window and flipped the lock. The boy slid the pane up and crawled through, tumbling onto the floor in an uncoordinated heap.
I held out my hand expectantly. “Why do you have my book?”
“I heard them talking about it and figured I could use it for leverage.”
“Leverage?”
He got to his feet but didn’t hand it over. My brows pinched together and I laid the knife down because, well… “You’re like twelve.”
“Eleven, actually.” He grinned.
His jeans were soaked through and splattered with mud from the knees down. Freckles dotted his sun-kissed cheeks.
“Who are you?” I asked.
He rolled his eyes. “The welcoming committee.”
“Welcoming to what? Where am I? I know this isn’t my apartment.”
“It conforms to home. Whatever that means to you.” His nose scrunched as he looked around. “To each their own.”
“Rude.”
He shrugged. “I’m Thad.”
My own gaze tumbled around the room that was my apartment—but not—and blew out a heavy breath. Okay. It was magic.
Magic.
I’d barely started getting used to the fact that this world did indeed have magic. Real life, deadly magic that would just as soon eat me as make life easier.
In fact, I was having a real hard time coming up with one example where magic had been on my side. The pounding headache didn’t help.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Thad?”
“Yes?”
“Where’s Rafe?”
“Uh… who?” His lips pressed together and he cocked his head to the side.
I zeroed in on his face. He was a good little actor, I’d give him that. “I may be new to all this, but I am not stupid.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” he mumbled as he began a tour around the room, peeking at the photos of my nana and mom on the wall. “This you?”
“Yes.”
“Did your mom cook?”
“What?”
“Seems like all my aunt does these days is bake and tell me what I can’t do.”
“That’s great, but I don’t know what it has to do with me.”
“I’m getting to that. I’d like to help you out,” he turned and smiled wide. “You know, a favor for a favor.”
I folded my arms. “Something tells me that Rafe did not send you.”
“Who is this Rafe person you keep talking about?”
I went for my shoes that were sitting on the floor by the door, realizing for the first time that I was still wearing the buttery soft leggings and tunic given to me by the elves. Or were they hobbits? Presently, I was having a hard time keeping any of this straight.
I squeezed my eyes shut against the pain still thudding through my skull.
It didn’t matter that this place looked like home. It
Sitting down on the couch, I pulled on my shoes and tied the laces.
“Okay,” Thad said, holding up a hand. “Fine. They didn’t send me.”
“I don’t think I could be any more shocked,” I deadpanned.
“Technically, I’m not supposed to be here. But, everyone else is afraid of you and I told them they’re being a bunch of sissies.”
I didn’t have enough painkillers in me to have this conversation. Come to think of it, I didn’t have any painkillers in me.
Therein lies the problem.
Shoes in place, I stepped toward the front door and the little cretin moved in front of me.
“Listen, kid. All I need for you to do is get out of my way. I don’t even care where Rafe is. I’d like to get on with my life and forget he ever existed.”
And, you know, convince myself that it was really just my trust that was shattered and not the nameless organ beating painfully in my hollow chest. I was such an idiot. But the fix was simple, really. All I had to do was never blindly hand it over ever again.
“Well, that’s going to be difficult.”
My expression darkened as I looked down on him, putting one hand on a hip in an embarrassingly mom-like pose. “Why?”
“Because Essem Morgan said you’re not allowed to leave.”
Essem? Was that Rafe’s real name?
I wouldn’t be surprised if the asshat had lied about yet another thing. An empty laugh escaped me because I was beyond caring at this point.
“I’d like to see him try to stop me.” I flung the door open.
A flash of lightning was the first thing to greet me. Shortly after, my brain registered the two burly-looking men turning to face me—one on either side of the doorway. They were the type of guys you’d expect to guard a high-security prison.
Ignoring them, I glanced back over my shoulder. I had no words for whatever Alice in Wonderland bullshit this was. The inside of this place was definitely my apartment. The outside was not. There was an unfamiliar covered patio, supported by two broad, stone pillars that were so cracked and weathered, they looked to be about a million years old.
Beyond that, well, that view.
It looked like a postcard. The air was rain-kissed and cool. I could see quilted patches of earth on the foothills that looked like fields of crops. Everything was… wet. Drenched was probably a better word.
The two men glanced at one another, drawing my attention. Some kind of unspoken communication passed between them with a single look that I couldn’t quite decode. What I did understand was that they weren’t excited to see me.
I looked them up and down with a high level of skepticism. “Friends of yours, Thad?”
“The big one’s Ice Crack and the boomer is Soren.”
“Thaddeus,” the one called Soren—he really wasn’t that old—warned. “Out.”
“But—”
“You’ve got about three seconds to get your ruddy little cheeks out here. After that, Ice Crack here is going to drag you by your hair all the way home.”
I watched the wheels turn in Thad’s head. Being the grown-up version of a stubborn tween myself, I knew that look. He was weighing his options, deliberating whether this was his hill to die on. Ice Crack took a step forward, driving Thad to his decision.
“Wait.” His shoulders sagged. “Fine.”
So he lives to fight another day.
He trudged out the door. “Later, queenie.”
“What’d you call me?”
He was already off at a jog, waving over his shoulder as he veered left down a puddle-strewn path, more mud joining the splatters on his clothes. He was more mud than boy at this point.
I turned my attention back to Tweedle Dum the elder. He was fit and probably in his forties with a mustache and long, dark hair tied into a man-bun. The other looked like his younger clone but with no lip curtain and his hair cropped short, giving him a militaristic appearance.
“As intriguing as this has been, I think I’ll be on my way. Would one of you fine gentlemen please point me home? And by home, I mean the real world where my actual apartment exists.”
They stared at me.
“What realm is this anyway?”
They continued to be as helpful as rocks.
With a sigh, I moved toward the steps. Both instantly reacted, shifting to block my way. Ice Crack’s hand moved to a weapon at his waist—a long baton-looking thing that I hadn’t even noticed until this moment. My eyes went wide as my heart rate picked up.
How dare they.
Soren shook his head and held up an arm, blocking Ice’s path. With reluctance, Ice stood down. He took a step back and resumed his folded-arm grump-stance. As if on cue, a bolt of lightning cut across the sky. Ice didn’t drop the scowl that I was quickly surmising was a permanent fixture.
“Anyone ever told you that your face is going to get stuck that way?”
His frown deepened.
Soren faced me. “Miss Black, I think we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot.”
You don’t say.
He cleared his throat. “Justice and I have been assigned as your personal guards. Anything you need, you just let us know and we’ll take care of it to the best of our ability.”
Guards?
I swallowed hard. “You can’t keep me here. I haven’t done anything wrong.”
Or had I? The regret tugging at my heartstrings suggested something was definitely up in that department.
Soren lifted his hands in a placating gesture. “Never said you did. We’re just here to make sure you’re comfortable and undisturbed.”
Undisturbed?
They both acted as if all of that made perfect sense. That unsettled feeling in my stomach continued to swell. “I just want to go home. I don’t belong here.”
“Well, that’s the thing,” Soren said carefully. “We think you do.”
My gaze narrowed. Did they really think that? Distinguishing truth from lies was more important now than ever. Although, I apparently wasn’t any good at it to begin with.
“We?”
“Our community of jinn,” he said slowly. “You’re one of us.”
My jaw dropped as I again looked them over with a newfound scrutiny. They were like me? It couldn’t be true. Could it? I’d been led to believe I was the last one. “You… you’re jinn?”
Soren nodded. “That’s right.”
If they were jinn then…
It couldn't possibly mean that…
My throat went dry. “What about Rafe?”
“Him too.”
Him too?
A wave of dizziness swept through me and I sagged, gripping the doorframe. Overwhelmed would have been an understatement, and I was sure I looked it. Soren reached out, ready to catch me, but I waved him off.
My attention dropped to their arms, finding no marks in sight. Jinn had to have marks, right? I mean, I used to have marks. I was way out of my depth here.
“You’ll forgive me if I have a hard time believing all of this.”
Soren shot me a sympathetic look. “I know things haven’t been easy for you. To be honest, things haven’t been a walk in the park for us either. But if you stay here with us, I promise all of your questions will be answered.”
I was desperate for information. Rafe was the king of keeping shit to himself. Just thinking about it made my blood boil.
I worked my bottom lip between my teeth.
This felt like a trap. More people? Like me?
“Where’s Rafe?”
“The essem is busy at the moment.”
The essem. That was the second time I’d heard that word.
I stood taller. “Look, I was forced here against my will. I don’t even know where ‘here’ is. I’ve been lied to, stabbed in the back, and poisoned by the great Essem Morgan. Why would I want to stay here with you?”
“Because we’ve got cake,” came a stage whisper from the bushes.
“Thad!” Soren boomed. “Home. Now!”
