Sacrificial Souls (Twisted Spires #1)

Chapter 1

LYRA

The dead only whispered.

But sometimes, even the whispers became too much.

The spirits and I were officially in a toxic relationship.

All they did was take, calling out when they needed my help and then ghosting me right after.

Somehow, they’d even perfected the art of gaslighting me, by making me question my damn sanity.

Their relentless pleas pressed against the front of my skull, a sharp pressure that drowned out everything but the incessant pounding in my head.

Mist crept through the forest, blanketing the ground and gradually ascending into the tree line. Densely packed trees gave way to a clearing, and the familiar towering steeple came into view. The flashlight trembled in my hand as I cautiously made my way through the darkness.

The church looked different at night. Eerie. Sinister. The hairs on my arm rose. Every instinct told me to run, but I ignored it. I came here hoping to help the restless souls find peace and maybe find a little of my own.

Rusted hinges screeched as I pushed my way inside. White paint flaked to the ground from the decaying wooden door. I bit down hard on my bottom lip to keep from screaming as beady eyes scampered away at the unwanted intrusion.

My thoughts spiraled as I imagined every horror movie I’d ever seen. Coming out here alone had been a last-minute decision. Granted, it had been a stupid one, but those goddamn whispers.

“Sorry,” I muttered to anyone with the power to smite me for uttering such a blasphemous word in this sacred place.

I stepped farther into the desecrated hall, holding my breath, scared to make a sound.

It felt wrong to disrupt the silence. A shiver slithered down my spine, crawling from the nape of my neck to the small of my back from the bite of the Virginia fall night or the constant state of fear I found myself in. Honestly, it could go either way.

I grimaced as the floorboards whined under the weight of my steps. Each was a distinct note in a frightening ballad. I paused, reluctant to stray too far from the safety of the doorway, and settled into one of the rear pews, and waited.

The yellow hue from the flashlight refracted off the stained-glass window above the pulpit at the front of the church—one of the few things still intact.

The light trailed downward to illuminate the ornate stone altar.

I clicked off the flashlight as moonlight broke through the clouds and spilled through the windows, pushing the darkness back.

I hunched over, hugging my backpack tight against my chest as I kept watch for any kind of movement.

An earsplitting ding echoed through the church. My heart lurched against my rib cage, threatening to beat right out of my chest. I frantically dug in the pocket of my leggings. My phone shook in my hand as I tapped the new notification scrawled across the screen and read the incoming text message.

Dylan: You up?

Leave it up to the fuck boy of the century to send me into cardiac arrest over a hookup text. I rolled my eyes, shoving the phone into the front of my backpack—but not before silencing it.

If I wasn’t careful, all this nervous energy would deter the spirits and make tonight a complete waste of time. My shoulders sagged as the reality of my situation sunk in. I should be studying or at a party like a normal college student.

Instead, I found myself waiting on the dead.

“Sweetie, the spirits need our help.” My mom’s words crept into the back of my mind, easing the tightness in my chest.

Some people inherited their mother’s smile or temperament. I got my mom’s affinity for the dead. And after her death, nine years ago, the burden of helping the spirits fell to me.

I shot to my feet as something shifted in the corner.

My breath danced to life as a beautiful young woman approached the pew.

I clasped my hands tightly, willing them to stop trembling.

I swayed from foot to foot as the young woman stepped forward.

She tucked a loose, dark strand of hair behind her ear, tilted her head to the side, and examined me.

“Wh-who are you?” Her voice came out hoarse.

“My name is Lyra, and I’m here to help,” I spoke in a soft, reassuring tone to keep from spooking her.

“Help me with what?” She moved back a few steps as she spoke.

“To pass beyond the veil.” Her perfectly groomed eyebrows shot up behind wispy bangs as she processed my words.

“Because…” A long moment of silence passed before she continued. “I’m dead?”

I nodded, trying to hide my grimace. “But if you’re here, some part of you must be ready to move on and find peace.” I reached out my hand in offering.

One second, she stood in front of me, and the next, she was gone. Some spirits weren’t ready to accept their situation, and I’d give her the time she needed.

I turned to take a seat but instead came face-to-face with a man.

Deep wrinkles lined his forehead, but it was the red, blistering skin on his cheek that drew my attention.

The marred skin looked like it had been held across hot coals.

He didn’t speak before reaching out for my hand, but instead of peacefully passing through the veil that separated this world from the spirit realm, his grip tightened around my wrist.

“What the actual fuck?” the words spilled from my mouth.

Panic bubbled up my throat, bitter and suffocating as I tried to rip my arm free.

The spirits weren’t supposed to be able to physically touch me—only in some ethereal, spiritual way, or some bullshit like that.

But the burning sensation where he held my wrist felt pretty damn real.

“Let go,” I gritted out through clenched teeth, bracing against the pew and yanking myself free from his hold.

In the chaos, the flashlight rolled under the pew, and I dropped to my knees, my hands shaking as I frantically searched for it. My fingertips brushed against the handle, and I stretched a little farther until my hand gripped the cold metal. Light flooded the room, but the church was empty.

The spirit was gone.

A mangy rat scampered across the floor, nearly colliding with my foot. My lips formed a thin line as I swallowed the building scream.

Without a second thought, I slung my backpack over my shoulder and bolted for the door.

That’s it. This was a stupid idea. I’m out.

My lungs burned for reprieve as I ran through the woods. My black Converse slipped over a moss-covered rock protruding from the soil, but not enough to break my stride. Or roll an ankle.

Finally, the empty parking lot with my lone SUV came into view.

I snatched the car keys from my backpack and repeatedly punched the unlock button.

My clammy hands fumbled with the handle before I yanked the door open and flung myself into the driver’s seat.

I smashed the lock button on the door panel, like that would help keep the spirit out.

With a turn of the key, the engine sputtered to life.

The windshield fogged from my ragged breaths, making it difficult to see into the night.

I’d never encountered a spirit outside the confines of the church, and I prayed that was still the case.

I squinted, my eyesight blurry without my wire-rimmed glasses, but nothing appeared from the trees.

The Jonas Brothers blasted through the car’s speakers as the Bluetooth synced with my phone, cutting through the silence with a jarring force.

I shrieked and smacked the steering wheel before adjusting the volume knob, but froze when I saw it—a faint handprint wrapped around my forearm.

Before I could process what had just happened, the music cut out, and a ringing noise filled the SUV’s cabin.

“Are you almost home?” My sister, Emory’s voice boomed through the speaker.

“Yes,” I said, trying to calm myself. I was thankful words came out at all.

“You haven’t even left your apartment yet, have you?”

“I’m just pulling out of the parking lot now.” It wasn’t a complete lie. Technically, I was leaving a parking lot. A nervous laugh escaped my throat, but I choked out, “I’m on my way. Be there soon.”

“Fine,” she huffed as she ended the call.

I didn’t dare mention any of this to her. She and my father believed the spirits were responsible for my mom’s death, and I had spent the last nine years wondering if I was destined to meet the same fate.

I slammed the shifter into drive and sped out of the empty parking lot. I risked a glance in the rearview mirror, only to be met with that same unsettling darkness as before.

Everything I thought I knew about the spirits for the past twenty-one years was wrong.