Free The Lost Soul (Fallen Soul Series, Book 1) by Jessica Sorensen

of things before we go barging in on him.” My line of vision moves to the castle, back to Alex.
    “We’ll take him by surprise,” she jokes with an anxious laugh. “He’ll be okay, Gemma. We’ll get that Lost Soul out of him.”
    “I sure hope so.” Because I feel lost without him.
    I place my hand on her arm and seal my eyelids. The pull overtakes me as I envision the City of Crystal, the wavy patterns of rubies on the wall, the red icicles dangling from the charcoaled ceiling. I picture my feet on the translucent floor, the river flowing beneath it, carrying pieces of gold. I add a domed house carved out of snow-white crystal, the gemstone shingles, the glowing tree that decorates the glistening front yard. Then I put us there.
    “That’s the weirdest thing,” Aislin remarks, impressed. “It’s nothing like transporting. We just go. No magic involved.”
    I glide across the crystal floor, toward Nicholas’ house.
    “What if he’s not here?” Aislin asks, sliding across the slippery ground. “We probably should have checked before we left.”
    “We’re here now. So it doesn’t really matter.” I raise my fist to knock on the icy front door, but pull back. “Maybe we should check though the window or something first before we go in.”
    “Good idea,” Aislin agrees. “We can take him by surprise for once.”
    We skulk to the side of the house and hunch below a frosted window. I wipe it with the sleeve of my shirt, hoping he doesn’t see me. Then I sneak my head up. Inside is a bedroom with a single bed, a metallic trunk, and two wooden night stands. In the corner there is a tall mirror where Nicholas is admiring his reflection. Soft music vibrates from the stereo, the closet is open, and the faerie takes a white shirt from a hanger. He shucks off his red tee and replaces it with the white one. It’s a quick move, but I still spot an odd mark on his back; a black serpent spiraling up his spine, the head ending on his left shoulder blade.
    “What does a serpent mark mean?” I hiss, lowering my head beneath the windowsill.
    Aislin picks a glass petal from a flower and flicks it. “I didn’t know a mark like that existed.”
    “Nicholas has one on his back.” I pop my head up. He’s got his back turned toward the mirror, his shirt rolled up so he can check out his butt. “So this is what the faerie does when he’s by himself. Why am I not surprised?”
    Aislin’s face scrunches and she looks through the window. “Oh my God, he’s totally checking himself out.” She stifles a laugh. “And now he’s giving himself a speech on how sexy he is.”
    I start to laugh, but remember we’re on a mission. I grab her sleeve and guide us to the front door.
    “Knock? Or barge in on him?” My fist hovers in front of the door.
    “Barge in.” She grins. “It’ll be more fun that way.”
    I open the door. Nicholas’ house is just how I remember it; green walls, the hardwood floors trimmed by lavender marbles of praesidium. A living room is to the right of the entryway and a slender hallway stretches straight ahead.
    “It smells like flowers in here,” Aislin pinches her nose as we tiptoe up the hall.
    “It’s Nicholas,” I say. “He always radiates a flowery scent.” She giggles and I nudge her with my elbow, choking back a laugh.
    The walls are ornamented with shelves and an arrangement of crystal balls balance on them; blue, orange, small, large. There is a painting of a field full of vines and yellow roses, and a woman who has the same sandy hair and golden eyes as Nicholas.
    “Ouch! Damn it!” Aislin curses loudly, jumping up and down on one foot. “I stubbed my toe on the table leg.”
    The music hushes.
    “We’re so busted,” I say.
    Aislin flashes me an apologetic look. “Sorry, but it hurt like a—”
    “Well, well, well,” Nicholas taunts us with smile. He has the white shirt on, his sandy hair hanging in his golden eyes. “Look what the cat dragged in.”
    “Aislin,