Soul Possessed. Katlyn Duncan

always did, clearing the negative thoughts of my vision. My soul had calmed significantly already but I loved experiencing Gate Seven with an unclouded mind.

      When Jackson let go of my hand, unconsciously I reached out for him, opening my eyes in the process.

      As a Collector I’d seen thousands of manifestations of Gate Seven through the eyes of my target souls. The True Soul which helped coax the soul from the body also manifested how a soul would want their transition into the After to appear. Some envisioned pearly gates and others brought out their favorite place in the world. All of the manifestations eased the soul enough to accept their fate. Then the Gatekeepers would be there to guide them to their place in the After to spend their soul life.

      But none of the manifestations I’d experienced would come close to what Gate Seven actually looked like. Gatekeepers lined the Veil at the edge of the After waiting for their assigned soul to cross over. I could barely make out the Veil against the glowing backdrop since it was nearly invisible but a lot stronger than it looked. In one of my many new lessons, Jackson had explained that what we referred to as Gate Seven was a sort of dead space between the Living and After Realms, which made it easier to visualize a soul’s manifestation.

      Without the connection of a soul, I experienced Gate Seven as an endless sky with swirling patterns in every color. The souls and Collectors in the distance appeared to be standing on air, which at first looked a bit startling, but as a Collector I knew they were witnessing a different kind of beauty. The After didn’t share the same sun as the Living Realm, but it was more powerful creating a constant glow in the distance, illuminating the Realm. It never became fully dark at any point, just a shift in color from light pinks and purples fading into deep blues and reds and every color between.

      My shoulders relaxed. The tension from the vision floated away as I sank down onto the plush grass. Jackson sat beside me. We watched the Soul Collectors arrive with new souls and quickly disappear back to the office, while the souls experienced their surroundings. Some stood still and others appeared to be on a treadmill as they walked in place, but I knew in their minds they were exploring their manifestation. That was a part of the Collecting gig that I never experienced and I found it fascinating each time Jackson took me there.

      I turned to him. “Thank you.”

      He nodded, his eyes trained on the Gate. “You’re welcome.”

      “Sorry I ruined your training session.”

      “Don’t worry about it, I needed a break anyway.”

      “Doubtful.”

      “Believe it or not, you’re getting better. It’s taking me almost twice as long to get you off your feet.”

      A laugh burst from my lips. “That’s encouraging.”

      “I meant that as a compliment. I’m not as nice as I used to be when it comes to combat.”

      I remembered my first week of combat training and it hadn’t been easy. “You used to be nice?”

      A wry smile touched his lips. “Like I said, you’re getting better.”

      I looked back out toward Gate Seven. “I’m still not where I should be at this point.”

      “You do have an advantage…” He wiggled his fingers.

      “Absolutely not.” It wasn’t the first time he suggested accessing my ability to help become a better fighter. But no one else had these stirrings and they did just fine. Besides that, what would happen to Jackson if I actually embraced that side of me? Or anyone else within a mile radius for that matter?

      Twisting his body so we sat directly across from each other, his knees brushed against mine. “I know you don’t believe me, but this is a part of you and it can be controlled.”

      I checked my hands again “At whose expense?”

      “I can handle it.”

      I raised an eyebrow. “I nearly had you earlier.”

      “No you didn’t.”

      I reached my hand out keeping it inches from his chest. “I distinctly remember being this close.”

      “I’ve been around a long time, Mags. And I’ve been in a lot of fights. Trust me, I was in control.”

      For some reason, putting down that part of me made me want to prove him wrong. I stood up quickly.

      He followed suit, but slower, calculated.

      His blue eyes faced the Gate as we circled each other, they appeared almost translucent against the glowing orange sky. He grinned. A spark erupted within me. That wicked grin always meant he was up to no good. It was the same one that made me want to both rush into his arms and run away at the same time.

      “What are you doing?”

      Lifting his sword from his baldric Jackson twirled it in his hand. “You were the one who stood up. I’m assuming you wanted to prove me wrong.”

      I cursed my defiant side and Jackson for always knowing what was on my mind. Even though my memories were locked away, traces of them appeared in my personality. More so when he was around. It was as if they responded to him in some cruel joke against me.

      “No. That wasn’t—”

      Jackson looked over his shoulder, showcasing his defined jawline in profile. “Well we need to finish up training for today if anything.”

      He nodded to my sword and I lifted it, pointing it up at the ready. I pressed the toes of my boots into the ground and shifted my weight, just as Jackson taught me. Like a bolt of lightning, he struck, his weapon crashing down on mine. I blocked, but he twisted around and brought the sword down again, harder this time. I struggled to keep my sword up against his, but he pulled it away quickly before striking again. I blocked every shot, but unlike before I had no opening. His method while training had been to use cunning and brute strength, just as the Shadowed did. They didn’t care about poise and precision, they wanted results by any means necessary. But in addition to that, he was proving a point; that he was right.

      Before I knew it, Jackson had me against a tree, the bark pressing into my back. I ducked one of his blows but he deftly spun around and continued swinging.

      “Focus,” he growled.

      There was no sign of the devastatingly handsome boy that I’d grown to know. He had turned on his full Guard mode and it was both a beautiful and terrifying sight. “I am,” I said through gritted teeth, accepting another shattering strike on my sword. I wasn’t sure how long my arms could take the beating.

      “Don’t think.” He didn’t even look like he was struggling. His muscles moved under him as if the sword was an extension of his body. “The Shadowed don’t think, they act.”

      The grass was a lot softer than the hard packed dirt I was used to training on. I regretted baiting him before but at each connection of our weapons, my regret grew into white hot anger. My rage blinded me and for a second I forgot where I was. I tripped over a small root in the ground, breaking my rhythm and in the process my sword flew from my grip.

      Dropping his sword on the ground, he came at me. Along with swordplay, he’d schooled me in hand-to-hand combat, but before I could make a fist, his hand shot out and gripped mine, hard. He twisted my body unnaturally and I cried out as he grabbed my other wrist and held it behind me. He pressed my back against his chest, caging me. I tried to wriggle free from his hold but I failed.

      His cheek pressed against my head and he whispered in my ear. “Like I said, I can handle it.”

      I shivered, but this wasn’t the moment to get distracted. I struggled, but his grip only tightened.

      Focus.

      I kicked out but his legs were cemented in place. I lifted my body, putting all my weight on his arms. He grunted and I found a chink in his grip and muscled out. Maneuvering his hands he twisted me around so we were chest to chest.