Page 2 of Unruly
“Fuck. I’m really dead.”
“For now, but you’re in luck. I have a proposition for you.”
“What kind of proposition?”
“You see, your soul met the criteria for you to arrive in the Revival House.” My goodness, he’s handsome. It’s been a long time since a new soul has caught my attention for more than a passing glance, but Borja’s aura is… captivating.
I clear my throat. “As I was saying, you meet the criteria.”
“For what, my guy? The fuck are you talking about?”
“We have a program called Soul Chasers. You see, every now and then—or daily, actually—one of the souls from the Below escapes this realm and wreaks havoc in the Above. It’s a Soul Chaser’s job to get it back where it belongs.”
Borja pinches the bridge of his nose. “Uh-huh. You sound like you’re speaking English, but I don’t understand a word of it.”
“Right. I’ve jumped ahead. Apologies.” I’m flustered. Why am I flustered? Most unusual. “When mortals die, their souls are sorted based on how they conducted themselves in life. Most often, souls bypass me here, but when the criteria is met, this is where you end up. The requirements are a premature death through no fault of yours, being of reasonably good character, and an animal lover.”
Borja stares at me, blinking rapidly. “Okay, I get the first one, but a good person and an animal lover?”
“Do those not fit?”
He shrugs. “I had a dog in the sixth grade. His name was Rudy, and I loved him, but I don’t even have any pets.”
“But you love animals?”
“I guess so? It’s not a trait I’d put in my dating bio.”
“Your what?”
Borja blows out a frustrated breath. “And good character? Based on what? I’m an atheist. I don’t really like people. I’ve broken a few hearts in my day, and I don’t talk to my parents.”
“I don’t make the rules, Borja, but if you’re here, you must have met the criteria. Sorting mistakes are rare. If you were entirely bad, you would’ve bypassed me and gone to the Below.” I point to the floor for effect. “If you’d died of natural causes or other reasons, you’d be sorted into the proper house.”
“Right.” He glances around the dark space. “I hear clicking. What is that noise?”
“Oh. Come this way.”
I walk down a short hallway and open the door to the main workroom. Borja, standing beside me, peers in but pulls his head back quickly.
“What are those?”
“Workers. Busy sorting souls and assignments, processing reports, and keeping the Revival House in tip-top organized shape.”
“Are they, um, dead, I guess?”
“Well, yes, at some point, they shed their mortal coil. They end up here in various ways, some through choice, some through failure, but it’s not so bad if you don’t mind paperwork.”
“You’re their boss?”
“I run the Revival House.”
He turns his soft green gaze to me. “So, you’re dead?”
“I’m in between. Neither fully alive nor dead. But you, Borja, are dead at the moment. Would you like to hear the proposition?”
“Lay it on me.”
“The living always provide openings for aggressive souls to escape. Séances, spirit boards, mediums—the list of portals is endless, and a crafty soul uses that to their advantage. We call them Horrors. In the Above they’re called ghosts, spirits, poltergeists.”
