With All My Soul. Rachel Vincent
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Sabine’s gaze settled on me and Tod. “Not a risk for you, though, right? You two have all the luck.”
“Yeah.” Sarcasm dripped from the word as Tod pushed pale curls back from his face, and I could feel my own cheeks flame. “Not having to worry about teen pregnancy totally makes up for the fact that we’re dead.” His eyes flashed in anger, probably on my behalf. “Every time I think you’ve reached the pinnacle of insensitivity, you exceed your own reach.”
“No way. You don’t get to be mad about the truth.” Sabine turned to Nash, obviously puzzled by social etiquette she didn’t understand. “Are they pissed because I mentioned sex or death?”
“New subject!” Nash stood and stomped into the kitchen with his soda.
“I second the motion,” I mumbled as he drained his can and dropped it into the recycling bin. I would much rather talk about trekking toward certain death in the Netherworld than ever again discuss sex in front of my boyfriend, his brother/my ex, and his new girlfriend. Who was also his old girlfriend/first love, who’d once tried to sell me to a demon to get rid of me.
Some conversations will just never be comfortable.
“Okay. So.” I shook my head, trying to mentally strike the previous two minutes from the official record. “Any ideas for how to lure Belphegore into our hellion cage match?”
“Vanity, right?” Nash reappeared in the living room with an open bag of potato chips. “I nominate my venerable brother. He likes to play hero, and one look at him should establish the vanity angle.”
“Nash!” I really shouldn’t have been surprised by the dig. But I was.
“What?” He raised one brow at me in challenge. “It’s okay to call me jealous, but not to call him vain?”
“Awareness of one’s obvious advantages doesn’t imply vanity,” Tod insisted calmly.
Nash turned on him. “Does it imply narcissism?”
Tod huffed. “This coming from the guy who owns more hair products than his girlfriend.”
“I don’t own any hair products,” Sabine said. And that was true. Her beauty was natural. Dark, fierce, and kinda scary at times, but completely natural.
Nash glared at his brother. “When you were still alive you spent more time looking at yourself than at girls, and I doubt death changed that.”
“Seriously? Are we doing this again?” The overhead light flickered in response to Sabine’s irritation—another creepy aspect of hanging out with a mara. “You’re pretty. He’s pretty.” She turned to scowl at Nash. “Your brother’s arrogant, and you’re confrontational. You’re both fed, clothed, sheltered, and sexually satisfied.”
“Sabine!” I hissed, while Em stared at the floor, evidently lost in her own thoughts. But the mara continued without even glancing at me.
“Now bury the hatchet in this stupid little family feud, or I’m going to bury one in you both!”
For a moment, we all stared at her. I should have been accustomed to her lack of a verbal filter and apparent determination to discuss my private life in front of the entire world, but every now and then she still shocked me.
“Well?” She glanced from one brother to the other, but before either of them decided to make the first move, Emma looked up, her jaw set in a determined line, though she wasn’t looking at anyone in particular—in fact, she seemed to be looking inward.
“I’ll do it. I’ll be Belphegore’s carrot.”
For a second I could only stare at Emma as what she was saying sank in. Then I shook my head, horrified by the thought. When I’d said we would be the bait, I hadn’t meant Emma. More than any of us, she deserved a little peace.
“No, Em, you don’t have to do that. You’ve been through so much already. This is the last thing you need right now.”
She twisted on the couch to face me, tucking one leg beneath her, and again I was thrown off by how odd it was to look into Lydia’s face and see Emma’s eyes. Hear Emma’s voice. “Your plan is good, Kaylee,” she said. “It’s smart, and it’s bold, and it could work. But it won’t work if you’re not willing to accept help. To let the rest of us take the risks you’ve been taking on your own.”
“No, Kaylee’s right. I’ll do it.” Tod shrugged. “I prefer to think of myself as a pretty accurate judge of my own gifts, but in the right slant of light, that could be seen as vanity, and—”
“I’m the natural choice,” Em insisted.
“You’re the least vain person I know—”
“Just listen,” my best friend said, and I did, because that was the least I owed her. “I never thought about it until I died and woke up with a stranger’s face, but who we are is very much influenced by what we look like. By our own self-images. Think about the crazy things people will do to change the way they look. Dangerous diets. Obsessive workouts. Unnecessary surgeries. And what they’re really trying to change is who they are. Or at least how they see themselves. As if changing what they look like can actually do that. It can’t. But for the first time, I understand that mind-set. It’s like my name.”
“Your name?” Nash looked just as confused as I felt.
“Yeah. We went through several baby books and at least a dozen baby-naming websites looking for a new name for me, but no matter what we tried—no matter what names I thought I liked—I couldn’t remember to answer to them. Because they weren’t me. I didn’t associate those names with who I am. Just like I don’t associate this body—this face—with who I am. Every time I look in the mirror, I’m surprised. There’s this moment of disorientation when I have to remind myself that I’m seeing my own reflection. And I know I should be grateful. Sophie was right about that. I’m still alive, and that’s the most important thing, and I should be grateful to Tod and Kaylee for directing my soul, and to Lydia for giving me her body. Not that she had any choice in the matter.”
Em sniffled and a tear fell from each of her eyes to roll slowly down her cheeks. “But I can’t help it. Every time I look in the mirror, I’m disappointed.”
“Because you’re not pretty anymore?” Sabine said, and I’d never wanted worse to smack her.
Okay, except for that time I did smack her.
“What?” the mara said, like she actually didn’t understand her gaffe. “It’s true. Lydia’s not pretty, and Em’s used to being pretty. That can’t be easy. I may not go through a lot of trouble in the morning, but that doesn’t mean I’d be happy to wake up tomorrow with nothing to fill out my bra, you know?” She gestured toward my nearly flat chest, and that time my palm itched to connect with her face.
“She’s right.” Em frowned and glanced at me apologetically. “Not about your boobs. They’re fine.”
“Way better than fine,” Tod leaned over to whisper, and I buried my face in my hands, both embarrassed and relieved to realize that Nash was the only one in the room who’d refrained from commenting on the sad state of my personal assets.
“But Sabine knows what I’m saying,” Em said, mercifully diverting attention from me and my subpar endowment. “I liked who I was. What I looked like. I liked having curves, and I liked my hair, and loved having clear skin without having to mess with it. I liked seeing my eyes in my own face. I’m never going to have that again, and I hate it. So yeah, I’m vain. As it turns out, I’m really vain. If Sabine’s willing to help manipulate that with a little strategic fear amplification, I know I could reel Belphegore in.”
She closed her eyes for a second, then met my gaze. “And, frankly, I plan to enjoy the hell out of it. The bitch broke my neck, Kaylee. It’s her