Praise for RACHEL VINCENTâsSOUL SCREAMERS series
âJust think Buffy the Vampire Slayer meets Twilight.â â Lovereading
âA fantastic fun-filled rush of a bookâ
âGirls Without a Bookshelf
âYouâve got to love it when a series gets better
with each book.â âYA Book Reads
âTwilight fans will love it.â âKirkus Reviews
âAwesome with a side of awesomeâ âMostly Reading YA
âIâm so excited about this series.â âThe Eclectic Book Lover
âA book like this is one of the reasons that I add authors to my auto-buy list.â âTeensReadToo.com
âI have a plan, Em. A good one.â
âI know you do. Iâm sorry.â She shoved limp brown hair back from her face and sat again with her glass. âI justâ¦I attended my own funeral today. Thereâs just no way to improve a day that started with throwing clods of dirt on your own coffin.â
âI know.â My hand tightened around Todâs. I hadnât seen myself buried, but I had beenâ¦wellâ¦murdered. Sacrificed, in fact. As a virgin.
Cliché? Sure. Painful? Hell yes.
Reversible?
Nope.
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Soul Screamers MY SOUL TO TAKE MY SOUL TO SAVE MY SOUL TO KEEP MY SOUL TO STEAL IF I DIE BEFORE I WAKE
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Ending any series is hard. Ending this series has been particularly hard for me, both creatively and emotionally. Iâve been working with Kaylee and her friends and family since January of 2008. Weâve been through seven novels and several novellas together. Kaylee and the gang have lived in three different houses with me, in three different states. Iâve spent more time in the Soul Screamers world than in either of my adult series to date.
Saying goodbye has been bittersweet. But Kaylee has grown up and Iâve grown up a little bit with her, I think.
This book is dedicated to Kaylee, whoâs suffered through so much for our entertainment. Sheâs been a good sportâa fighter to the endâand it has been my pleasure to finally give her the happy ending she deserves. (Donât peek! I promise, youâll hate yourself for it laterâ¦)
Andâ¦
This book is dedicated to every reader whoâs ever written to ask me for a release date, a spoiler or a snippet of the text. My words may have brought Kaylee to life, but your interest kept her going.
Thank you all.
Thanks to Natashya Wilson and the rest of Harlequin Teen for launching the Teen line with Soul Screamers and for supporting Kaylee the whole way.
Thanks to my agent, Merrilee Heifetz, for making things happen.
Thanks to my critique partner, Rinda Elliott, for untold hours plotting, and whining, and planning over the phone. I hope we get to do all that in person very soon.
Thanks to No. 1, who sees the crazy, frazzled writer my official author photos hide well. Thanks for knowing when to offer coffee, when to make fajitas, and when to back quietly away from the office door. Youâve made this possible.
Thanks most of all to my editor, Mary-Theresa Hussey, for guidance, support, enthusiasm, andâmost importantlyâfor smiley faces in the margins.
I used to hate the fact that my world is built on half-truths, held together with white lies. My life itself is an illusion requiring constant effort to maintain. I lie better than almost anyone Iâve ever met. But if I know the truth about anything, itâs this: when people say the devil is in the details, they have no idea how right they are.â¦
âIt was a nice service, right?â My best friend, Emma, smoothed the front of her simple black dress, both brows furrowed in doubt. She shifted her weight to her right foot and her heel sank half an inch into the soft ground. âI mean, as far as funerals go, it could have been worse. People cried.â She shrugged, staring out at the slowly departing crowd. âThis would have been awkward if no one had cried.â
It was awkward anyway. Funerals are always awkward, especially in my social circle, where the definition of âdeathâ is under constant reevaluation.
âIt was a lovely service, Em.â I watched as people fled the open grave in slow-motion retreat, eager to be gone but reluctant to let it show. There were teachers, shell-shocked but in control, looking out of place without their desks and whiteboards. Parents, looking helpless and scared. Classmates in dark dresses, black slacks, and uncomfortable shoes, most in the same clothes theyâd worn to the past few funerals.
We were all much too familiar with the routine by now. Whispered names and details. A day off for mourning. Excused absences for the viewing. Counselors on call for grieving students during every class period. And finally, the funeral, where we said goodbye to yet another classmate most of us had known for most of our lives.
I was one of those whoâd cried, even though I was among the few who knew that the star of the showâthe recently deceased herselfâwas actually still with us. Right next to me, in fact. A guest at her own funeral.