02 Awaken-The Soulkeepers (8 page)

Michael glared at the paramedic, who had decided the bus driver was beyond help.
“Try again!”
he yelled.

“What are you doing?” Raph grabbed Michael’s arm. “It’s too late! You’ve lost him!”

Michael jerked free.
“Keep trying!”
he shouted into the medic’s head.

“He’s gone, Michael! It’s too late!
You
were too late!”

Michael grabbed Raph by the collar. “Do not tell me it’s too late!”

“It
is
too late!” Gabe said. “He’s already here.”

Michael shoved Raph away and swung around. The faint imprint of the bus driver, Jimmy Doogan, was standing in the road. He appeared stunned and bewildered by the scene, all those children in his care, bleeding and crying. He grimaced and wiped away a tear that wasn’t there.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Michael demanded, startling Jimmy. He stalked over and took the bus driver by the arm, yanking him across the road. “Get back in there!” Michael yelled, shoving Jimmy toward his dead body.

It was a desperate move, and Michael felt himself spiraling out of control. He’d never lost a soul before its time, and he’d be damned if he’d let one slip through now.

“Use the defbrillator!”
Michael yelled into the medic’s head.
“Try again! Try again! Try—”

“Stop!” Gabe shouted. “You’ll scar that medic for life, Michael! He’ll think he didn’t try hard enough! He’ll think—”

“He didn’t!” Michael yelled, pushing past his brother. Using his newly discovered manipulation, Michael narrowed his concentration and forced his energy onto the medic. The guy looked at his partner and then the bus driver. He frowned and glanced at the defibrillator with indecision.
“Push the button!”

As if in a trance, the paramedic mumbled “Clear,” and then reached over to push
the button.

“What are you doing?” his partner grabbed his arm. “I’ve got the epinephrine ready.”

“I think … I don’t know. I think I’ve got to shock him.” He pushed the button and the bus driver’s chest spasm. They watched the monitor but nothing changed.

“Again! Try again! Don’t stop!”

“I think I’d like to stay,” Jimmy Doogan’s imprint said. “Please, I want to go with you. It’s so warm and peaceful and …” He looked up at the night sky beginning to swirl above his head. “I … want to … know …”

“It’s not your time yet, Jimmy.”

Gabe sucked in a breath. “You can’t tell him that! You know it’s forbidden!”

“We’re wasting time here,” Raph growled, glancing around. “The longer that imprint is here, the more likely we’ll have reapers or soul seekers raining down on us. I like destroying them as much as the next guardian, but we’ve got a lot of kids in pain here. Michael, you have to take the bus driver home. He was your responsibility. You blew it. Escort him home, now.”

Michael’s temper flared. This couldn’t be happening, not when he’d worked so hard to save every soul.
Jimmy Doogan was a good man! He didn’t deserve to have his life cut short!

And what about the winter trials? The Halos would be notified if Michael lost a soul. It would be over. Everything he wanted. Gone. Not to mention his pride. Michael couldn’t bare the humiliation of telling Sophia what happened. He
couldn’t
let it happen.

Just as he stepped toward the paramedic, intent on yelling another instruction, Michael sensed an intrusion. He turned around to a figure walking up the road. A good-looking guy, about twenty-five with shoulder-length brown hair. He wore a brown leather jacket and jeans.

“Hey, guys, remember me?”

Raph walked closer, eyeing the guy who appeared in spirit form. He seemed cool, like an old friend. But something was off. “You sound familiar.”

“Yeah, but I picked up some new duds this time.” He smiled and spread his arms. “No more grungy jeans and T-shirt. Not too shabby, huh?” He ran his hand over his soft leather sleeve.

“Degan,” Raph spit out the name with disgust. “You just can’t take a hint, can you?” The last time Raph and his brothers had seen the soul seeker lurking around a car accident, Raph had the pleasure of snapping Degan’s neck and sending him back to Hell.

Degan threw his head back and laughed. “Aw, c’mon, guys, you knew I’d snag
another body as soon as I could. Besides, we’re all working stiffs here. No pun intended.” He grinned. “You know, I really hated that grungy body I was in. So I wanted to stop by and say thanks for killing me—I was due for a change—and might I possibly pick up a little roadkill while out and about? It’s nearly Christmas, after all.” He gave Raph a crafty smile, and then his eyes cut to Jimmy Doogan’s imprint.

“You really think you’re getting past the three of us?” Michael asked dispassionately.

At that moment, Jimmy’s imprint began to make an odd oohing noise. Degan curled his hands in anticipation. If he could only touch the imprint, it was his to Take.

Jimmy’s eyes widened in surprise at the same moment the medic hit the defibrillator again. The monitor registered a sharp spike just as Jimmy’s imprint was sucked back into his body like a vacuum. The monitor fluttered and then continued in a steady rhythm.

Michael smirked at Degan while Jimmy’s heartbeat grew stronger. “Sorry, but you’re shit out of luck.” He was being a smartass but what he really wanted to do was exhale with relief, to stumble away and collapse from sheer exhaustion. That was a close call he never wanted to repeat.

“Hmm.” Degan scowled and shoved his hands into his front pockets. “I’ll be damned. Mind telling me how that happened?” He caught Michael glaring at him and raised his hands. “Whoa. Never mind. Not my problem.” He laughed. “You don’t have to explain your freaky shit to me. Now,
him
on the other hand …” He pointed toward the trees where Dimitri Patronus stood, watching his sons work.

I’m sitting in bio and have written two pages of notes but have no idea what they say. My hand is on autopilot and my mind is on Michael. I haven’t seen or heard from him since he left me—abandoned me—in the middle of creation last night. He said David would take me home, and he did. But still.

I dart a look at Raph, whom I’ve caught watching me surreptitiously throughout class. He doesn’t smile like he usually does, so I know he’s curious. I worry that he’s growing suspicious of Michael and me. I try not to make eye contact for too long. Michael said his brothers have trouble reading my emotions if they can’t look me in the eye. I’m on guard. Especially today when I’m preoccupied with thoughts of Michael.

I fiddle with my pen and try to cook up a reason to interrogate Raph about Michael’s whereabouts. Then Mr. Wagner says five words I’ve never heard before, “When we dissect the body …,” and I flinch and my pen flies out of my hand. Raph snags it out of the air, and our eyes lock. I gasp at his quick reaction, and the room falls quiet.

“Is there a problem?” Mr. Wagner turns from the board, where I realize he has been divulging a plethora of information that I’ve been tuning out.

Raph hands over my pen, and I lean forward and whisper, “Did he say, ‘When we dissect the body’?”

“Yes, I did,” Mr. Wagner answers impatiently.

I slide down in my seat and feel my armpits tingle with sweat.

What body? A frog? Are we dissecting a frog? Why doesn’t he just say frog, then. Maybe it’s a pig. Maybe—

“Miss St. James? Is there a problem?”

Everybody is staring, and I look at Bailey. She understands that I’ve been caught unaware and is biting her lips together to stop from laughing. Her eyes bulge, begging me not to speak but I have to.

“Well, I guess I don’t understand what we’re really dissecting.”

Mr. Wagner twitches like he’s had ice dropped down his shirt. “You don’t
understand
? We’ve been talking about the evaluation of the human body
all
semester.
We’ve discussed our future journey through tissue, veins, organs, and the general body cavity as a way to realistically encounter human life. Have you paid attention
at all
?”

I grimace and shrug. “I thought you were speaking metaphorically.” Somebody snickers, and then the whole class groans at—what Mom would have called—my lack of intellectual fortitude. I’m the only one who didn’t realize we were dissecting a real body, that we were on standby for an impromptu field trip to the morgue.

Apparently, Christmas came early for Mr. Wagner in the form of a dead body, and we’re off to the New Haven Hospital morgue.

Oh, what fresh Yuletide hell is this?

So after lunch, the entire bio class clomps across the snowy parking lot. “All aboard the poor man’s limo,” Bailey grumbles, leading the way up the bus stairs. I’ve given up on seeing Michael today or discreetly discovering his whereabouts from Raph. I’d hate for him to become more suspicious than he already is.

Bailey sits beside me and starts griping about how irritating Duffy has been lately. “It’s like that time he pulled an Adderall nighter, all hopped up to cram for that astronomy test when we had to chart the constellations.”

I’m scanning the parking lot for Michael’s truck and only half listening. The bus lurches forward, and I slump in my seat, disappointed. Then we stop short and the door opens and my second heartbeat springs to life. I catch my breath as Michael climbs aboard.

He’s greeted by an array of teasing and grumbling for playing hooky most of the day. He laughs good-naturedly and seems to be in an agreeable mood. I try to catch his eye but he won’t look at me. He moves down the aisle, throws a sharp look at his brother, and then collapses into a seat somewhere behind me.

I sit still, searching for any telltale signs that Michael misses me. The second heartbeat is slow and steady. There is no tugging at my heart, and I feel let down. Then it occurs to me that I’m still mad at him for abandoning me at the waterfall. He could’ve come by my house and explained, or at the very least apologized.

I stare dismally out the window and bury my hands deep inside my coat pockets. The sky is slate gray with a promise of more snow. The bus heater is doing its best but I shiver anyway.

My phone is buried along with my hand and when it vibrates, I pull it from my pocket. It’s sweaty and I wipe it clear and tap the screen. The word I
NDIGO
appears, indicating that Michael is texting me. It’s the only word suitable to identify him, since I can hardly use his real name. I thought it was very clever of me but Michael is embarrassed and wants me to change it.

I read:
Can I assume by your pouting attitude that you are mad at me?

Hmm. I narrow my eyes and respond:
Can I assume by your audacious display of ignoring me that you won’t be apologizing for stranding me in the woods?

I take a deep, angry breath that flares my nostrils. Then I realize Bailey is still bitching about Duffy and expecting me to confirm that he’s being an asshole. She is seriously pissed, so I agree wholeheartedly with whatever she’s said. “Wow, he
is
being an asshole.”

My phone vibrates and I read:
Ah, so you are confirming the pouting attitude comment. Fine. Pout away. As to my “audacious display of ignoring” you, it should be clear by now that it’s an unfortunate necessity in our situation. It would hardly be appropriate for me to pounce on you at every given opportunity. As much as I would love to
.

I smile and clutch the phone to my chest.
As much as I would love to
runs around my head, making me warm inside. I look back out the window before Bailey gets suspicious and grabs my phone. I love when Michael says things like that, and I know I can’t really be mad at him for leaving me. What worries me more about last night is his refusal to stop kissing me in time. He ignored the warning signs; he ignored me pushing him away. I’ve never seen him like that, so insistent, so demanding. So full of need that he put my life at risk.

I know he must feel bad about it. But why won’t he apologize? He hasn’t even acknowledged it.

I tap the screen and type:
I have seen “As much as I would like to” firsthand. It put me in a dead faint, and I think it’s high time you explain yourself young man
.

The bus hits a lump of ice, and we’re jostled up and down. Bailey drops her phone and yells, “Son de la bitch!” She and the phone recover without further damage but Duffy shoots her a glaring look.

“See that?” she whispers aggressively, and I nod. Duffy is giving both of us the stink eye. It seems to be catching because Jordan the Leerer, Pacer, Casey, and J.D are now staring. I can’t shake the feeling that they know something we don’t.

My phone vibrates again:
This hardly seems the time or place to discuss our lack of restraint, now does it? I’m sure we can find appropriate accommodations later, somewhere dark and quiet perhaps, to go over the issue in greater detail
.

Our lack of restraint?
Our
lack?

Why, that little Casanova. He’s flirting about something that he insisted was dangerous. How can he be so
blasé
? So … unconcerned? I can’t wait to hear his excuse.

Everybody starts talking about this week’s basketball game, and then Casey
cranks up his iPod, and Duffy starts singing “Who Spiked the Eggnog” by Straight No Chaser. It sounds like a throwback from the forties, but Duffy whips it into a rap and the guys stand up, singing and clapping like rappers on a street corner. All the girls are laughing because they look like idiots.

By the time we pull into the New Haven hospital parking lot, Duffy has changed his mind, seemingly irritated by the Christmas cheer he’s created. He sings homegrown lyrics in the key of Suck the Magic Dragon, and everybody groans. Bailey rolls her eyes and says, “Hoorah for the Hip Hop intelligentsia,” and we all file out and head into the building.

We are introduced to the director, a severe-looking lady in a white lab coat who leads us down to the dark underbelly of the hospital and into the bowels of the morgue. It’s a cold, sterile place, but I can feel Michael walking some distance behind me as we trail through a labyrinth of long sanitary corridors. I’m glad he’s here, if only for some vague comfort. I don’t like this place. It reeks of disinfected death.