Soul

By Rosalie Celeste

Anna is a young woman trying to begin her life anew, after a difficult childhood and never feeling like she belonged. For a while, it seems she is living the life she dreamed of; that is until one night, danger and desire walks into her life in the form of Tyson. From there, her world is thrown into action and mystery. She has to ask herself thi

• Language: English
• Publisher: AMZ Marketing Hub
• Release date: Jul 20, 2023
• ISBN: 9781915942913

Rosalie Celeste

Rosalie Celeste lives in the High Peak, UK with her daughter and family. She creates stories in the paranormal/horror genre.

Book preview

SOUL

Rosalie Celeste

Copyright ©2023 Rosalie Celeste

All Rights Reserved

Dedication

My wonderful friends and family who a huge part of my world, I would like to thank you. You inspire me every single day.

Acknowledgements

I would like to thank my very own Wolfy, who made it possible to bring my words to life and my family for being my Pack!

About The Author

Rosalie Celeste lives in the High Peak with her daughter and family. She writes in the paranormal/horror genre, aiming to bring energy and a zap of excitement to her stories!

Table of Contents

Dedication

Acknowledgements

About The Author

The Beginning

Restless

A Familiar Place

Waking To Daylight

Beauty And Secrecy

Friendship And Safety

No Rest

Curiosity And Moonlight

The Unknown Enemy

Dangers In The Shadows

Distance From Everything

Escape To Safety

After Everything Changed

A Brief Rest Amongst The Flowers

A Watcher

Someone Is Watching, Waiting

A First Threat

Meeting The Others

Escape From It All

Dreams And Danger

The Threat Increases

Returning To The Warehouse

Belonging To Them

Transformation Without Fear

Rest After Running

A New Defense

Hiding In Plain Sight

An Unknown Caller

Taken

Right Or Wrong Choice

Tyson

Give Your Life

Gather

Changing

Stalking And Finding

Endless Corridors

CORNERED

Brief Rest

An Explanation

The Pain Disappears

Their Happiest Forever

The Beginning

The silence was broken suddenly by an enormous explosion, sending angry orange flames high into the sky, and a ferocious war cry pierced the air mixed with howls that drifted into the inky blackness above. One after one, other howl joined in until the atmosphere had become laden and heavy with fear and anger. It was a chorus of fury and vengeance. 

A man emerged from the shadows, his broken and battered body red with blood and striped by jagged wounds. His clothes hung from him, strips of fabric torn away by claws and teeth. He staggered toward the edge of the destroyed wasteland. His eyes set forward despite the fatigue and ache. The howls seemed to follow him like the roll of an all-consuming wave, breaking around him into growls and snarls. His legs shook as he pushed on ahead, despite seeing the lifeless bodies of his friends and allies. Their broken forms lay over the collapsed ruins of buildings and the devastation that stretched for miles. 

A momentary break from the howls that followed close behind him gave him time to pause and reflect on what he was seeing. The end, or maybe a new beginning?

Their attack had been swift and brutal. They had brought devastation to everything around them. This deserted wasteland had once been a beautiful little town, with the Pack members living in a peace that ensured safety and tranquility. Now that the battle had savaged this beautiful place, there was only the blood-red flicker of flames and the atmosphere that was thick with lost life and tragedy.

He collapsed against the brickwork of the crumbling shell of a building. His sight blurred by a mixture of blood and sweat. Fatigue overtook his body, and he leaned his entire weight against the rough bricks and took deep, painful breaths as he surveyed the damage made by their battle. The lifeless eyes of the people that lay scattered around him seemed to stare into his soul, issuing tormented screams that called for their lost souls. Both friends and enemies had lost their lives, and their souls would remain here forever. Their final death cries forever would be carried on the wind, an eternal song of sorrow and pain-filled rage.

Why has this happened? 

Restless

Anna sighed and turned onto her back, pulling the covers over her shoulders, fighting to trap the fleeting warmth before it escaped from under the thick quilt. She snuggled further down until her whole body, up to her chin, was covered. But the cold still seemed to find her, nipping at her skin with its icy touch. She curled herself into a ball, trying to make herself smaller so the heat could find her faster.

It was a clear night, and the silver moon shone through the window of Anna’s bedroom, illuminating the room with a ghostly glow that slithered into every shadowed corner. She turned to give it a quick glance. It demanded her attention, holding her gaze, sent an electric charge through every vein in her body, and sending sleep hurtling further away from her.

For as long as she could remember, the moon had always had the same effect on her, captivating her with its beauty, and tonight seemed to be no different. She felt drawn to its luminescent wonder and fought hard to move her eyes away. If the moon had a lasso, it had hopelessly caught her in its entanglements, pulling her toward it at every opportunity.

If I could just reach out far enough, I could take hold of the moon and take some of the energy it seems to possess. I would never have to sleep again, free to worship it forever.  

Anna sat up in stages, allowing her body to adjust to being out of the covers. The icy air touched the skin of her bare arms, and Anna could feel the tiny hairs on their surface spring up against it. She shivered involuntarily and rubbed her hands up and down them, trying to create enough friction to cause any warmth. 

Anna glanced beside her at the alarm clock on her bedside table. The glowing blue numbers read 3 AM. Since closing her laptop at 10 PM that night, she had been lying here, sleep and tiredness completely escaping her. It was as if she was trying to reach the end of a long corridor with a peaceful night just a fingertip away, but no matter what, it remained just out of her reach.

She had managed to drift into a light sleep for a few minutes before the moon’s incessant calling broke through the barriers of dreaming, and her eyes opened again, pulled as if she was a magnet to the lunar glow. 

Although the red quilt was thick and heavy, it did little to capture any warmth. The thin white pillow she’d lay on had twisted with her tossing and turning. She touched a cold hand to the side of her neck, which had started to ache with the constant moving as she tried to get comfortable. 

After a few more minutes, Anna sighed, throwing off the blanket completely and sitting up. The cold hit her with its full force as she stood and walked barefoot over the freezing wooden floor to the door that opened into the living room. She stepped through quickly, grateful for the warmth trapped in the room surrounding her. She reached the wall beside her and flicked on the ceiling light. At first, she squinted against it until her eyes started to adjust to the light. 

Anna walked to her sofa and slumped down. She sank down into the cushions of the cream sofa and felt the warmth surround her finally. Her feet found the plush navy-blue carpet, and she stretched her body out, fighting to feel any form of tiredness her body may be holding. 

The gentle glow of the moon shining through the apartment window seemed to call to her again, and she found herself looking towards the window, trying to see the silvery moon outside. The thought of the moon, stronger than the sun, was filling her with bursts of energy that felt like little jolts of electricity in her veins. She closed her eyes tightly, the little bursts of voltage fluttering through her veins in tiny spurts. She imagined them as tiny lights as small as fireflies, floating around her and occasionally zapping her with energy before flying at her full force, entering her bloodstream and filling her with a pulsating glow that never waned.

She had always been this way for as long as her memory would allow her to travel back. Reluctantly, she allowed her mind to travel back to a childhood she always tried to forget.

She had been left outside the local convent on a rainy night, a tiny babe wrapped in a moth-eaten blanket inside a bassinet, barely a few days after her birth. A messily written note left inside her trappings was the only evidence of her life before, and it had only been signed MOTHER AND FATHER. The sisters had mentioned another note but hadn’t revealed until her 16th birthday that all it said was that her parents had left in a hurry and hadn’t been able to take her.

Every evening afterward, she had been drawn to the moon and its beauty. Even before she could remember, the sisters who had taken her in told her they would often find her outside from the day she’d started walking, wanting to get to the moon and gaze at the magical sight. It had become more of a parent and guardian than anyone. The convent had been a prison, and the moon was her liberator. She had always sought to make her way to it, the freedom she could reach for but never touch. It always brought a sense of sadness to her, thinking back to her days in that convent.

It didn’t matter now, anyway. After 19 long years in that place, she had finally saved enough from her job working at the local café, and she was able to move into a small studio flat above a book shop. Her boss had let her rent cheaply. She had been able to get a loan after two years and buy her dream apartment on the edge of the city of Midtown. It wasn’t a very big place and was by no means perfect, but it was hers. It was just far enough from the convent that she would never have to lay her eyes on it again. 

In the four years that she had lived there, not much had changed; the white walls had still not been painted, there were no carpets except for the living room and a shaggy blue rug underneath the legs of her bed, and the small amount of furniture, which was mainly broken or second hand. She spent many nights repairing or painting pieces of furniture and breathing new life into them. The rest of her time was spent working to pay off the loan and finally gaining that sense of total independence she had always dreamed of. 

When she looked at everything, though, she felt an almost overwhelming sense of pride. It was her that had made all of this possible. Despite where she had started her journey, she was in her very own home, living her own life the way she always imagined. 

The apartment was eerily silent, so Anna sat forward and grabbed the remote, switching on the television. The screen flickered momentarily before an image started to form on it. A serious-looking man with gelled-back brown hair was relaying the events of the day while he shuffled the stack of papers on his desk. His voice drifted in the air, taking away from the loneliness slightly, shortening the distance between Anna and some form of company.

His monotone voice became a droning hum as Anna sat on the couch, not listening, just staring into space. She had heard the words weather and darkness but nothing more. At this time of the night, when everyone slept in the apartments around her, the silence could become unbearable. It would completely surround her, a predatory being stalking from the shadows. The television, even if she did not listen, could be a comfort in these moments. She very rarely watched it, instead leaving it on as background noise, almost like another person.

After a while, the voice of the man started to become irritating, a bee-like hum. After a few minutes, Anna stood up, leaning forward to press the power button on the television. The silence became complete once again, and Anna longed for some kind of company. 

She debated at this time, getting dressed and walking over to the all-night coffee shop. The fact it was always open meant that she always had somewhere to go during the times when sleep was completely impossible. She had been going there for years whenever sleep escaped her, and her lack of company became too much to bear.

She went back into her bedroom and picked up her pale red shirt and a pair of blue jeans from the rickety set of drawers that stood opposite the bed. She grabbed a thick pair of ankle socks too from the top drawer and a set of underwear before heading out of her room and heading to the bathroom next door. She flipped a switch, and a dim yellow light flooded the stark white room.

The small tiled room was quiet, too, except for the sound of a dripping tap Anna had never been able to fix. She put the clothes on a chair beside the door and turned to the porcelain sink basin.

She opened the door of the mirrored cabinet above the sink and grabbed her wooden hairbrush. As she closed the door again, her reflection stared back at her. 

At 5’8, she just managed to stand tall enough to see the top half of herself in the cabinet mirror. Her mousy brown hair was arranged in messy waves around her pale face. It fell to the small of her back in half curls, half tangles. She attempted to tame it into some kind of submission with the brush before looking in the mirror again. She had never seen anything in the way of beauty in herself, but she gave an awkward half-smile to her reflection, trying to conjure some positivity at what she was seeing. 

The one thing that had always incited a little confidence in herself was her eyes. The sisters at the convent told her that when she was very young, her eyes had been such an intense blue. They were almost mesmerizing. As she grew older, her eyes became a very icy blue and gave her an air of mystery, as her exes had called it. She had always worked her makeup around them, taking an eyeliner pencil everywhere with her in her jacket pocket. 

She reached down and turned the tap on, cupping her hands under it and catching some cold water. She splashed the water into her face, the sudden intensity of the coldness waking her up even more. She grabbed a fluffy blue towel from the towel rack and gently dabbed her face dry. Through the drops of water spiking her eyelashes, she glanced at her blurry reflection. She looked ghostly and pale, a shimmering ghost-like figure against the dim light. She wiped the dew from her eyelashes and reached for her clothes as her view started to clear.

She pulled off her pajamas and pulled the new underwear and her jeans over the top. She struggled into her shirt afterward as quickly as possible and sat on the chair to pull on the socks before standing up. She had been eager to be dressed before the cold found her again, but it had been something else too. She didn’t want to see her body and the self-consciousness it made her feel. 

She took one more look in the mirror before heading to her front door. She never liked to linger in front of the mirror too long. It had always felt like her reflection was seconds away from moving on its own.

Beside the door, her black boots rested against the wall. She grabbed them and pulled them over her thick socks before pulling her black jacket from the coat peg and shrugging it on. The fabric was cold against her skin, and she shivered, waiting for the material to adjust to her own body temperature.

She unlocked the door before stepping outside. The corridor was empty and quiet, the people behind the other apartment doors were all asleep. The overhead light had also been switched off, meaning the only illumination came from the streetlights outside. She headed for the stairs to the ground floor, rushing to escape the quiet.

****

Anna walked down the marble apartment steps, her footsteps echoing as she moved. The stairs continued downwards for several floors before she finally reached the ground floor. The hallway that led to the large front doors was completely empty and silent. In the dim lighting of the overhead bulbs, the narrow walkway reminded her of the empty halls of the convent, and she shook the thought away quickly. She didn’t want anything to remind her of that place.

On the left side of her, there were large metal double doors leading to an elevator, but it had been sealed since the ancient lift had juddered to a complete stop several weeks ago. She turned instead to the opposite side, which turned into another smaller hallway. She followed the hallway to the large entrance doors and pushed them open. They creaked on their metal hinges before slowly opening. A rush of cold air crashed over her as she stepped through, looking into the dark street beyond. The doors swung slowly closed behind her with a heavy clunk. She took a deep breath, taking the icy air into her lungs and trying to get used to it.

She walked down the few concrete steps until she stood on the pavement, which was still slippery from the brief snowfall that evening. She was wearing flat black boots, and she was so thankful at that moment for their strong grip. Still, she occasionally looked down, eager to avoid any icy patches of ground.

On the opposite side of the road, the lights of the coffee shop greeted her. The warm orange overhead lights glowed through the windows, and the outer walls had been decorated to look like wooden cabin walls, adding a small feeling of comfort. The shop was only one floor, so the walls ended at the bottom of a sloping grey slate roof. There was a large garden opening in front of the building, and the ground had been blanketed by white snow. The tops of flowers poked their heads above the surface, long since wilted. It was late January, and there was no sign of the snow abating for more than a few hours at a time. 

Even though it was across the road and behind a bus stop from her apartment, Anna could smell the scent of freshly brewed coffee drifting from one of the shop windows that had been left open. Steam poured through the large stone chimney on the roof, making the shop look like a scene from a Christmas card. 

In the cold, the scent was comforting, and Anna started walking to the curb, wrapping her arms around herself to keep as much cold away as possible. She kept her eyes downwards to watch for ice to hinder her progress as she made her way across the road.

Only a few cars drove past as she waited to cross, the drivers weary with sleep, eager to get home. When the road appeared to be completely empty, she moved across as fast as she could on the slippery cement to the curb on the other side. The snow on the ground had been crushed into slush by the car tires making their way over it, and it made a crunching sound underfoot. 

One other person was walking on the pavement in front of her, their face buried in their phone, oblivious to what was going on around them. Other than that, the street was now empty. There was the sound of a car horn a few streets away and coffee cups being moved in the café. Otherwise, it was quiet.    

A Familiar Place

In seconds she had reached the small building and approached the door. There were colorful signs bearing the name of the coffee shop: JOE’S COFFEE PLACE, and advertising other companies. A small dusting of snow had recently blanketed the porch overhanging the door. She took one more glance at the shining moon before pushing the door open.

The coffee shop stayed open twenty-four hours a day. It was a refuge for the city dwellers struggling to sleep, and was a place to escape the cold for a while. It was never overly busy during the nighttime hours but provided somewhere to be to avoid being completely alone.

The scent of coffee was stronger from inside, and warm air drifted around her, surrounding her. Anna looked around the room, taking in the familiar and comforting surroundings. 

The coffee shop was quite small but decorated in a way that made it seem spacious and cozy. There were tables scattered around the room in no particular order, and wooden chairs pulled up to them. On each table there was patterned table cloth and a vase with a single paper flower, with a tiny table lamp beside it, which was giving a warm glow. The walls, painted to look like a cabin interior, were filled with artfully posed pictures of customers, coffee cups, and coffee beans. At the other end of the shop was a long marble counter, which Anna walked up to with a glass display case of biscuits and pastries and a large metal till. 

Behind the counter stood the shop’s owner Joseph, a middle-aged man with olive-colored skin and kind brown eyes. He stood tall, well over 6 foot, and despite his age, he was very stockily built in a way that showed weight was not the culprit, but muscle. He had white hair, which was scraped back into a tight ponytail. A few flecks of black still remained in between the bright color, hinting at a long-forgotten youth. Despite this, he appeared younger than his years; the only wrinkles around his face appeared beside his eyes when he smiled. He wore a light blue and white checkered shirt with long sleeves and black trousers, with a green apron over the top, bearing the shop’s name. 

He had owned and worked behind the counter at the coffee shop for as long as Anna had lived in the area and had become quite used to Anna’s late-night visits to the shop. Anna always looked forward to seeing Joseph’s smiling face and having a relaxed talk over a warm cup of coffee. In a world where the idea of using her voice was terrifying, Joseph was a true friend, a family member almost. He was very easy to talk to, and Anna considered him to be incredibly special.

Hello, Joseph, she said happily, walking over to the counter. How are you tonight?

Joseph had been writing on a small notepad, but when he saw her, he looked up, and his eyes brightening.

Cold, he replied. Another long night, I see?

Anna looked down at her hands. Just can’t seem to shake them. She shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant about it.

Joseph shrugged back at her and smiled. Raising her eyes to his, she couldn’t help but smile back. His happiness had always felt like a light, and it spread to everyone near him.

Don’t worry. You will! He picked up a cup from the cleaning tray.     

Meanwhile, coffee?

Yes, please, Anna tried to match his cheerful tone. She pulled her purse out of her pocket, searching for some money, but he gently pushed her hand away, shaking his head. 

Consider it a cure for the cold, and that shouldn’t cost anything.

Are you sure, Joseph? When he nodded, she smiled gratefully and blushed.

Thanks, Joseph.

Joseph stopped and glared at her. I don’t know how many times I have to tell you; my name is Joe! His voice suddenly seemed to have an edge of annoyance, but his eyes hinted at playfulness. 

I have known you for a long time. You’re like family. He then picked up a coffee pot and started pouring the coffee into the cup he’d picked up. His smile returned, brightening his features.

I know, Anna answered. I wish I could shorten my name too. Joseph gave a little chuckle at this and pointed to a freshly cleaned table. 

Go take a seat, he muttered, Annie. He added this quietly, but she gave a small smile as she walked over to the table and pulled out a chair. 

Anna had never been given a nickname before, and Joseph almost resembled a father figure, making it feel even more special. She settled into the seat and took another look around. At this late hour, the shop was almost empty, except for a man sitting at a table near the window. She almost hadn’t seen him, but something about him commanded her attention, drawing her eyes to him.

He had his back to Anna, so she couldn’t see his face, just his battered leather jacket and a mess of reddish auburn hair hidden under a flat black cap. He had a cup of coffee in front of him and, every now and then, picked it up to have a sip before turning his attention back to the window beside him. Something about the way he sat made him seem tense like he was ready to spring up and rush outside at any moment. 

Anna turned away quickly, feeling almost guilty for staring, just as Joseph appeared at the table with a cup of coffee. She smiled and thanked him before he sauntered back behind the counter and headed to clean away a tray that had been left there.

She looked down at the coffee and the thin line of steam rising from it. It traveled towards her before dissipating into the air. The smell followed after, making her smile, and she gave a contented sigh. She picked up the cup and took a sip, savoring the warmth, before carefully placing it back down on a multi-colored coaster placed at the side of the table.

The sound of a chair scraping made her glance up, and Anna saw the stranger had moved his chair back, so he could turn to her. For the first time, Anna got a look at his face. 

His eyes were a deep brown, almost black, and were crowned by bushy eyebrows. They were the same color as his hair which seemed to be mid-length but stuck out of the bottom of his hat in messy deep red waves. He had a strong aquiline nose and curved lips. He was studying Anna with a look in his eyes that was a mixture of danger and something else she couldn’t quite place but could feel throughout her entire body, like a rush of adrenaline. His eyes widened with surprise, and he opened his mouth to say something before closing it again quickly. 

He studied her face as if suddenly recognizing her. His eyes betrayed surprise, maybe even shock, and Anna felt herself falling into the look, lost in its mystery. She felt as if she would lose herself in his gaze if she looked much longer, but she found she couldn’t stop herself. Like the moon, the glance of this stranger had her held to the spot. She stared back before managing to drag her gaze away, and she whipped her head around to be sure no one else had walked in behind her. She saw no one, though, and when she turned back, he was gone. The coffee shop door was closing very slowly, being pushed back in the cold air. She stared at the door until it clicked shut completely, and the cold air was shut outside behind the barrier of its wooden surface.

Joseph was staring at the door, too, with what appeared to be a surprise in his eyes. He was polishing a cup and was gripping the porcelain so hard that his knuckles had turned white. 

Joe, who was that? Anna questioned, raising her voice so he could hear her across the room. He walked over, still staring in the direction the stranger had gone. His brown eyes were narrowed, reluctant to move.

After a few moments, his face softened again, managing to turn his deep brown eyes to Anna. There was nothing in his eyes to show anything was wrong, and he smiled, trying to cover any concern before she saw it. 

Tyson, he said, shrugging, putting the cup on the draining tray across from the table. He smiled again, but Anna could see that his smile did not reach all the way to his eyes. He was trying desperately to hide something, something he didn’t want her to know. 

"He just comes in here sometimes. Don’t worry about