The One

I’m 310 feet up when I see her. 

She’s in line for the log ride, holding the hand of a chubby toddler. 

I don't scream when the tower drops.

I rush off the ride as soon as they release the restraints. I have to find her. 

She’s the one. 

Her scent is masked slightly by the aroma of fried chicken and french fries, but I find her easily. Her energy lures me. I'm a fish on her hook. 

I sit at a table outside Chicken Shack, watching. The queue twists and turns, but I stay focused, not letting my eyes leave her for even a second.

She's perfect. 

I drum my fingers against the wooden picnic table as I wait. Time passes, but I don't feel it, my back rigid. Still. The line grows as she weaves her way to the front. 

She leans toward a tall man, who picks up the toddler and puts it on his shoulders. Her husband? A boyfriend?

Doesn't matter. 

After their turn on the ride, she takes the man’s hand and weaves her slender fingers through his. I almost feel bad for him. 

Almost. 

As they walk past, her scent is so strong I can taste her: joy wrapped in shame. A sprinkle of self-doubt.

Delicious.

I file behind them, keeping a casual distance. Enough space to deny. 

They walk to the bathroom, and the man takes the toddler inside. 

It's my chance. 

She sits on a bench and checks her phone. I sit on the other end. 

She is so close. My senses are full of her—full of hope.

I lean over. “Excuse me.” She looks up, emerald green eyes on mine. “Do you know how to get to Windseeker? My wife and kids are waiting for me, but it seems I'm completely turned around.”

She smiles, turning, and points a finger. “It's that way, through Coney Mall.” 

“Oh, thank you so much.” I hold out a hand. 

She glances at me uncomfortably. “You're welcome,” she says, looking over her shoulder. No sign of her family. 

It has to be now. 

I can't believe my luck, finding her with just four days left in my deal. The excitement licks at my chest, but I keep my face relaxed. Calm.

I drop my hand and stand. She shifts her weight and taps her foot on the concrete, going back to looking at her phone. 

I lunge toward the ground, falling on my ass. Her eyes find mine. “Are you okay?”

Reach for me. Reach for me. Reach for—

She holds out her hand, and I grab it, pulling myself to stand. I lean forward, clutching her hand tightly. 

“I'm sorry,” I whisper. 

And then I do it. 

It only takes a second. A moment for the light to leave her eyes. 

Like it left mine 996 days ago. 

She blinks, and I let go. 

Her soul is mine. 

I turn and head toward the front gate. I have it. Oh my gods, I have it. 

By the time I reach the car, Luce is already there, clicking his tongue. “Look at you. You finally got a soul.” 

“Will they take me now?” The words are rushed, desperate, spilling out. My hands shake. 

“Yes.” 

With a cold smile, he snaps his fingers. The world spins, and I stand in front of enormous golden gates, etched with symbols of the gods. Luce whispers in my ear, “Welcome to heaven above.”