Tainted Souls

By Carmela Coppola

Coralie spent her life dreaming about exploring beyond the wall and now, she is finally getting that chance. She discovers secrets about the world beyond and also the truth about the world below.

She learns that a darkness has ascended and that he has made her his prime focus. He will have her stand by his side... even if it means threatening those closest to her.

Her pure soul against his darkness.

His seduction against her loathing.

But where do tainted souls go when they die?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Aug 14, 2017
• ISBN: 9781543442441

Carmela Coppola

Carmela Coppola has always been an avid reader of all things fiction. She began writing at 14 years old, and published her first book EXISTENCE, in 2010, and second book DECEPTION, in 2012. A graduate of Bryant University 17', Carmela currently resides in Pennsylvania.

Book preview

Chapter 1

In the chill morning air, a crowd of the most elite children gathered anxiously to see who was chosen to be ranked among the best. Coralie’s eyes filled with tears when she ran to the main gate of the Block and found her only two brothers standing among the twelve chosen. At fifteen years of age, she was not yet eligible to be called, not that she would want to be.

The children within the Block were kept there against their will. It was like being sent to prison for life without having committed a crime. Every now and then, twelve of them would be chosen to go out on an exploratory mission to find new territories with new ideas that they could steal. Children were trained since the day they turned five, and when they finally turned eighteen, they became eligible.

No, Mika, please they’ve made a mistake. Coralie fell to her knees, wrapping her arms around her nineteen-year-old brother’s legs. Please you can’t go!

Mika pulled her close, and Coralie buried her head in his neck. Mika, along with their older brother Trent, had been selected as one of the top twelve. That meant that they would both be sent off on some dangerous mission that the governor had planned.

Cora, Trent murmured from beside Mika. Coralie ran to him, grabbing on to both of his shoulders.

Trent, what number are you? she demanded hysterically.

Coralie glared up into his dark brown eyes, waiting for an answer. Her heart was racing. Trent was twenty and would be eligible for the call for another five years. He was young and fit, and out of the twelve chosen, he was the best. She had no doubt in her mind which number he had been given.

Six.

Coralie’s heart stopped. Mika? she said in barely a whisper.

Five.

She nodded, knowing that speaking would cause her to lose control over her emotions. Coralie forced herself to acknowledge the bright side, dim though it was. At least they would be together.

The way the system worked, when the call sounded throughout the Block, every eligible child was to enter their private station. They would find a slip of paper that bore their name and, if they were unfortunate, a number. The numbers ranged from one through twelve. The number one would be paired with two, three with four, five with six, and so on. Everyone knew that the most dangerous numbers to get were five, six, seven, or eight.

That was because of the timing of the mission. Numbers one and two would be transported first, followed closely by three and four. They reached a mission zone catching the targets unawares and usually reached safety unharmed. Next came five and six, followed by seven and eight. At this point, the targets were aware of the danger and prepared to attack. It was rare to have all four of them return home, and because of that, their position received the nickname martyr. Any number higher than seven was referred to as the cleanup crew. They arrived on the scene when the battle was pretty much over. Harm rarely ever came to them.

You can’t leave me, said Coralie in a hollow voice, her shoulders slumping. Trent wrapped his arms around her and stroked her back, calming her the way only a big brother could. Please, not after Freya.

Freya, their older sister. She had been eighteen for a few short weeks before she was called to her first mission. Number seven. Martyr.

Coralie’s breaths came too quickly as she remembered the day, only three years ago, when the governor handed her Freya’s hooded cape. It was deep blue, clasped together with the Block symbol. All that was left of her in the end.

That cape had become Coralie’s comfort. She’d worn it day in and day out for months, refusing to let go of her sister’s memory.

She wished she’d have thought to put it on earlier that day. Now, as the stood huddled together with her brothers. Their small family of three. Silent and tense as they each contemplated the mission.

The act stuck out like a sore thumb in the main entrance of the Block where no one else cried and hugged, waving goodbye to a loved one. And that was because no one else had a loved one. Coralie and her brothers were an oddity. The only related children in the Block. Every other child was on their own, stolen from their birth parents at a young enough age that they eventually forget having lived ever outside of the Block.

When Coralie was brought here, the governor informed her brothers of her identity. Trent had demanded more information, wanting to know where they were from and who their parents were. The governor never said. But he allowed them their little family. A small blessing inside their cursed lives.

I love you, Coralie cried when her brothers were ordered to head to the governor’s chambers with the other members of the twelve. It was time for them to be briefed on the mission and then sent out.

We love you too, Cora, said Mika, tearing his eyes from hers and following the other twelve with his head down. Trent pulled his little sister in for a stiff, one-armed hug before following Mika.

Coralie stared at them, memorizing their every feature, refusing to forget them if—no, she wouldn’t let herself think that. Her brothers would survive. She followed their receding figures with her eyes until she could no longer see them.

Her brothers were distinctive and therefore hard to miss. Mika was tall, reaching almost six feet with short dark hair. He wore all-black clothing, from his tough black boots to the carefully stitched black leather jacket. The norm for children of the Block.

Trent was similarly dressed, and though tall, he still did not quite match Mika’s height. His shoulders were broad and the material of his jacket stretched across his muscular arms. Both of them were strong, perhaps the strongest within the Block; they had to have been—why else would they have been chosen as martyrs?

Her brothers’ figures disappeared inside a door, and they were hidden from Coralie’s sight. She wept. Children within the Block were taught not to show weakness, but Coralie didn’t care. Her brothers were all she had left, and they were being taken away.

Three years later

Morning rays of sunlight danced across Coralie’s eyes. She groaned at the sight before stretching out with a yawn. She rushed to change into her day clothes, which were black combat boots, black pants, and a fitted shirt. Today she picked one in deep red. After pulling her long brown hair into a ponytail, she rushed across the hall and knocked on her brother’s door.

Morning, Cora. Mika yawned. His eyes were lazy with tiredness. She smiled at her brother as he stepped aside to let her in. She couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the mess in his room.

I don’t get it, she shook her head with a laugh. "We hardly have any possessions, yet you still manage to make a mess."

Mika shrugged and Coralie laughed lightly. He had barely finished dressing for training and was still stifling yawn after yawn. Coralie frowned. Mika was usually the one knocking on her door in the morning.

Were you up late? She asked Mika as he donned a red shirt similar to hers. Coralie was grateful for this because it hid the horrifying scars that lined his back. The kind that only a spiked whip could make. Souvenirs from his first mission three years ago. Every time she saw them, she cringed, imagining the pain that her brother must have felt. And the fear, as he waited desperately for someone to save him.

Unfortunately, Mika said as Trent walked into the room, I was with Myron. I guess he overheard some of the governor’s men talking about a mission. He thinks there will be a calling today.

Coralie’s stomach clenched. Only last week, she had turned eighteen, meaning that this would be her first calling. For the first time, she could be sent on a mission. A chill rippled through her body. Trent gave her a knowing look.

Cora, you are young and inexperienced, he said, sitting on the end of Mika’s untidy bed. I sincerely doubt that they will have even considered you for this mission.

Coralie acknowledged the truth in his words but then turned to face her brother. "But you two could be chosen again. You will be chosen, she said quickly. Don’t try to deny it, Trent. You two are the best this place has. You get sent on just about every mission the governor comes up with. And every time I’m left behind wondering if you’ll come back. I can’t risk losing you guys."

You’re right, Coralie, Mika said, striding over to his sister and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. He led her to the bed where she sank down beside Trent. We are the best, meaning that we have the best chance of survival. Both of us have already been on enough missions to prove that. Don’t worry about us, little sister.

Coralie nodded solemnly. I just wish that the gov—

Don’t, Trent hissed, looking around.

Coralie put a hand over her mouth, realizing her mistake. The governor had ways of knowing everything and undoubtedly had ways of listening into their conversation. It was stupid of her to jeopardize her family like that.

It’s time for training now, Mika sighed.

Go now, Cora, and remember to hold your tongue, Trent said, embracing her quickly before ushering her out of the door.

Coralie reprimanded herself as she ran to the training grounds. She could feel the eyes of the governor’s men on her as she ran. Had they really been listening? She shook the thought away. Even if they had, she hadn’t said anything bad. Trent had cut her off in time.

Ignoring the governor’s men, Coralie ran easily through the rocky grounds. Despite the heat that rose within her as she ran, Coralie didn’t have to stop. She prided herself in her speed and endurance.

When she finally entered training ground 4, she ducked beneath the barrier and presented herself to the trainer, an adult male with bulging muscles and a harsh glare. Coralie always shrank in his presence.

Sir.

Coralie. You are late.

She glanced around the training ground. It was a wide arena at the bottom of a hill that was fenced in. The sun beat down harshly against it, hardly allowing for any plants to grow. Aside from the occasional dying bush, the training area was empty.

But no one else is here, she protested. The trainer’s eyes narrowed, and she shrank even smaller. This wasn’t the first time she’d been yelled at by the trainer, and she knew enough to fear his anger.

Their absence is none of your concern. Why are you late, Coralie?

I—

The trainer raised a hand to cut her off. Enough, I tire of your excuses, girl. Yet again, you have failed to show up on time. Am I to presume you are trying to skip? You do know the penalty?

I—

Well?

Yes, sir, I do, Coralie said quickly. I’m sorry. I will not disappoint you again. I accept whatever punishment you want to give me.

With an agitated wave of his hand, he muttered, You know where to go.

Coralie’s stomach twisted at his words. Yes, she knew exactly where he was sending her. She’d been there more times than she could count. It was one of the worst forms of punishment, training with the governor.

She mentally kicked herself for being late. This would mean missing another lunch and being late to another dinner; the governor would keep them training rigorously for the majority of the day. Her brothers wouldn’t be pleased when they found out.

State your name and action, the governor said in a booming voice when Coralie stood before him in his private training arena. She fought the urge to roll her eyes. With how many times she’d been there, the governor shouldn’t have needed to ask.

Coralie. I was late.

That doesn’t seem to surprise me, the governor said in a clipped tone. We are on sprints. Join in.

Coralie’s gaze followed the governor’s pointed finger, and she saw four people running in the distance. She recognized two of them from previous punishments. Pia was a tall girl of about sixteen years of age with short spiky blond hair. She always reminded Coralie of a pixie with a hint of devil. The other face she recognized was that of Blake. He was a few years older than her and kept to himself most of the time. Blake was the only one who openly despised the Block. Some called it bravery, and others, Trent included, called it stupidity.

It was rumored that Blake wasn’t brought to the Block at age five like the other kids were. They said that he grew up in the villages, but that the governor spied him one day when he was older and stole him from his family, covering it up to make it seem like he died in a fire. There had been something special about him. Something that the governor couldn’t ignore.

Do you find the sprints to be beneath you? the governor asked from quite close behind her. She jumped from the shock and spluttered her apologies. Go.

Coralie ran to meet the group of sprinters and joined them. She didn’t mind the running. It was something that she found she enjoyed. It gave her a sense of freedom that was hard to come by in the Block. Pia nodded as she sprinted past Coralie on her long legs. Their greeting had to be unspoken. The governor didn’t permit any conversation between those being punished. To talk to one another would make it more fun, and punishments weren’t allowed to be fun.

By the time night had begun to fall, Coralie was drenched in sweat, and her stomach growled ferociously. Beside her, Pia was swaying on the spot. Her eyes were shut tightly and her fists clenched. Coralie knew from experience that she was trying not to faint as so many usually did. The governor did not permit them to eat and did not allow them to drink often. It was normal for one who was receiving punishment to collapse. Coralie had collapsed three times in the past, and because of it, she had received brutal beatings. But she was stronger now because of her punishments. It was something she hated to admit.

Get out of my sight, all of you, the governor said in a cold voice, finally signaling the end of the punishment.

Coralie sighed with relief and held a helping hand out to Pia who smacked it away. She shot Coralie a look of contempt and walked off. Coralie knew better than to be offended by her actions. Pia didn’t want to appear weak, especially in front of the governor. Blake walked swiftly past Coralie, and she studied him, visibly understanding why the governor had taken him and made him a part of the Block. Though Blake’s skin was covered in a sheen of sweat and his blond hair damp, he still managed to look energized. He showed no signs of feeling faint or malnourished the way the rest of them had. As though sensing her scrutiny, he glanced back with narrowed eyes. Coralie ducked her head and ran past him. She was about to enter the dining hall when an alarm went off.

The call.

Panic swept through her, and she forced her tired legs to move faster. Coralie ran back to the living quarters of the Block, colliding with Mika in front of his room.

Slow down, he said forcing a smile and steadying her.

Have you—

Not yet, Mika said, and he opened the door to his room. She followed him with lead feet as he walked straight to the special black box that contained the message from the governor’s men during a call. He opened it slowly and pulled out a white piece of paper.

Mika – Seven

Coralie dropped to her knees, feeling the loss that was so natural to her now. She stared up at Mika whose expression had hardened. He glanced down at her, refusing to show any emotion other than determination. Coralie had always admired his bravery, but she knew one day it would lead him to his death.

Trent, she gasped, springing to her feet and running to the room adjacent to Mika’s.

Her eldest brother was standing next to an open black box with a strange look on his face. Determination, like Mika had shown, and something else. Trent’s eyes focused on Coralie as she entered the room, followed closely by Mika. A shadow of indignation crossed his face.

Cleanup crew, he growled angrily as he handed the paper to Coralie. She stared down at it.

Trent – Eleven

They’ve made me a member of the cleanup crew, Trent said, sounding disgusted. Coralie looked up at him with wide eyes unable to understand his anger. Have I not proven myself to be the strongest?

Of course Trent was upset because the governor had wounded his male pride. He had no care in the world about the fact that his life was once again at risk.

What are you? he asked Mika.

Seven.

Trent snorted. My younger brother outranks me, he said bitterly. His eyes were dark and narrowed. I guess I’m not really surprised. I just wonder who is replacing me.

How can you be worried about your rank right now? Coralie asked, forcing herself not to shout. It’s bad enough they gave you a number at all, and you’re upset that your position isn’t dangerous enough?

Cora— Trent said, stepping forward and reaching a hand toward her.

She stepped back from him. No. If you want to go on this stupid mission and die, be my guest, but don’t expect me to feel bad about you not being chosen as a martyr. Cleanup crew is safer. You should be relieved.

Trent watched Coralie with softened eyes. Already tears were glistening in her brown eyes, and her face was turning a shade of red. This was the hard part. She was always used to her brothers being selected for the toughest missions and the toughest dispatch numbers. In their eyes, being selected for a mission was a show of strength. They were all raised to be ruthless warriors day in and day out. Of course, Trent would be offended to have his position taken, but that didn’t mean that Coralie couldn’t be thankful that, for once, he was given a safe number.

What did your paper say? Mika asked Coralie quietly.

Tent’s head snapped up, and he stared at Coralie. She met her brothers’ gazes with confusion.

What?

Your paper, Mika said. Now that you’re eighteen, they will have given you a note in your black box.

Oh, Coralie said shrugging, I haven’t bothered to check it yet. I was too worried about the two of you.

You need to get the paper out, Cora, said Trent, his expression hardening again. "The governor has sensors in the black boxes. If you refuse to check your note, they will know and they will punish you."

Speaking of punishment, Mika cut in before Coralie could speak. He turned his fierce gaze on his sister. Why weren’t you at lunch? Or dinner now that I think of it?

Coralie’s hand fell to sit on her flat stomach, which began to growl ferociously again, reminding her of her hunger. She gave Mika a look that he knew too well, and he groaned.

Coralie, how many times do we have to tell you? he asked sounding exasperated. Coralie shrank beneath his glare, reminding herself that he only yelled because he cared for her safety. The more times you are punished, the more chances you give the governor to watch you personally. You will gain his unwanted attention, Cora. You will make yourself a candidate for future calls.

It’s not my fault! Coralie shouted. She knew he wouldn’t believe her, but it was true. She hadn’t been late to class that morning; in fact, she hadn’t been late the previous times either. That trainer was out to get her. For whatever reason.

Go check your box, Trent said suddenly.

What? Coralie turned to face him, taken aback by the sharpness in his tone.

Go. Check. Your. Box, Trent said again, his expression filled with unease. Coralie muttered to herself and left the room. Trent met Mika’s confused gaze.

You don’t think—

I hope to hell not, but how can we be sure? You said it yourself, Trent said, pacing the room. Cora spends way too much time before the governor in those punishments.

But she only just became eligible, Mika said, sounding as though he was trying to convince himself.

Mika, do you remember how old Freya was when she was called?

Trent watched Mika’s hopeful expression fall and then harden. The door opened quickly, slamming against the wall. Coralie stood in the doorway. Her body was shaking, and tears were flooding from her eyes. She held out a slip of paper, and Trent read it with growing trepidation.

Coralie – Eight

Chapter 2

Cora— Mika began. He didn’t even finish speaking the words before she ran from the room. Mika turned to Trent whose look was mutinous. They both hurried to their sister’s room and found Coralie lying on the ground, clutching the deep blue hooded cloak that had belonged to their sister Freya. Mika knelt at his sister’s side and laid hand on her back, forcing himself to leash the rage he felt toward the governor at that moment.

You could run, he said quietly.

Mika! Trent hissed, looking around the room.

"You could, Mika continued, ignoring their brother. You could get away. Be safe from all of this."

I could never leave you, whispered Coralie. Mika turned her over so that she stared up at him, her eyes burning from the tears. He pulled her into an embrace, and her arms wrapped tightly around his neck like a little child.

Trent began pacing the room again.

There’s nothing we can do, he said in a hollow voice, reaching down and pulling Coralie to her feet. Mika, you will be partnered with her. It’s up to you to look after her now.

The way that Trent spoke was so final as though he was speaking with them for the very last time. Coralie’s gut twisted. This could very well be one of the last times they were together as a family.

Mika nodded, getting to his feet as well. He crossed Coralie’s room and opened her closet, pulling out the things she would need. Coralie caught the tight black shirt and