The Soul Seekers (11 page)

“Candles flickered around me, making the darkness shift in horrible ways. Faces flashed and danced with demonic patterns. The chants continued until I could feel something strange happening to my insides. My mind started to buzz, and my breath . . . I could feel all the breath being sucked out of my lungs.

“I looked at the one called Marshall and I could see hesitation, perhaps compassion for my ordeal. Something told me he wasn’t a true member—he just didn’t seem to know what his place was in the group. All the others, Marcus, Alistair, Quinn, Vincent, and Cyril were deep in the meditation, but not him. When his eyes met mine, I pleaded for release and saw a flicker of response, an inner struggle.

“The eclipse had gone through half of its phases at this point, with the room becoming brighter. I saw Marshall hesitate again, then suddenly he grabbed the coin and whispered for me to take it, fast, and hide it somewhere if I could. He said he didn’t mind what they might do to him in punishment for setting me free—it no longer mattered.

“He placed the coin my hand, cold and electric, and explained the reason being that part of my soul was now trapped inside. He stressed again that I hide it somewhere, that if the rest of the group ever found it, they would finish the job. I clasped the coin tightly in my hand and made a quick exit, following a tunnel he pointed to. My body was weak, and I had a difficult time making the trek, but I knew—I could feel—something
evil
inside those caves. It frightened me. You can’t imagine how happy I was to see the bluffs when I made it out a few hours later.”

Cold. The coin was frigid as ice in my hand every time I held it. It was half of William’s soul I’d been holding. How delicate and precious it now became to me! My father’s trick box didn’t seem anywhere near safe enough of a hiding place. Here we were, both of us in the house together and the coin just a short distance away. The thought made me feel sick. When William cocked his head at me, I tried hard to block any images of where I’d hidden it.

“What did you do after you escaped?” I choked out, hoping to distract him from my paranoid thoughts.

“I ascended the bluffs. At one point, I felt a sharp dagger of limestone stab through my jeans into my thigh, but when I looked down, there was no stain of blood. I didn’t register this as strange; I assumed my brain was in too frantic a state to know what was happening. Someone shouted my name from below, and I made the mistake of looking down—a horrible thing as I was struck with a wave of vertigo. My vision blurred and everything began to spin. I forced myself to focus and climb the rest of the way up to the cliff’s edge. I figured I had a great lead, but didn’t realize how agile they were—how used to this whole terrain their minds and bodies are. Emma, they know every inch of the valley, as if they were created from its very stone.

“I ran out on the lake drive, bracing myself when I saw a car coming around the curve. It would be too late for him to stop, and I watched in shock as the car approached. It passed right through my body and drove away. The driver hadn’t even noticed me standing there. The realization of what I had become cut into my brain. I remember Marshall telling me half my soul was inside the coin, but still . . . it couldn’t be possible.

“Five men crawled over the cliff, closing in on where I stood. I turned, helpless in their chase, my knees trembling in defeat. I could give in to them then, knowing I was a mirror of a real human being. It would have been easy to surrender. But then I thought, ‘Never!’ Cathy wouldn’t want me to become one of them.

“Marcus stepped forward, and I drew my arm back and threw the coin out into the night. ‘Go get it,’ I taunted. How his face changed in that instant! He ordered the others to search for it, remaining to face me as they all scrambled back over the bluffs. For the longest time we stood there without speaking while the sounds of shouts echoed across the valley. I heard Marcus say, ‘You’ll always be part of us now, Bennett.’ I felt the last bit of the fade and replied, ‘
Never.
’

“There I was, forever lost in a world of in between; no longer allowed to live, never able to die.”

His voice trailed off, causing me to raise my eyes to meet the incredible blue that never failed to send a thrill through my body. “The next day in town, I discovered the real horror of my situation—that I was invisible to everyone. That I’d never be heard again, touched again. That no one else but the cult would ever be able to reach me, for the rest of my existence.

“It made me bitter for many years, and I played pranks on townspeople, destroyed things, jumped into cars to try to escape, but I’m tied to Springvale and can never leave. As soon as the car hits the limits, I bounce out like a rubber ball.

“One day, I stepped inside the walls of the library and after finding a small collection of Buddhist manuals, began a ritual of study. I began to think of ways to fight whatever spiritual mandates had been set in place—theorizing that if I became strong enough mentally, I could find different ways of leaving town, make myself seen, you know. But all my efforts failed, and I had just about given up hope.” His voice stopped, and suddenly he drew me into his chest and held me for a long embrace.

I can still remember every detail: the late evening glow of daylight fading into a haze of floating dust and hanging cobwebs, amber hues of mahogany permeating into our skin. The sound of leaves quivered outside the south wall, and a lone mourning dove wailed long and low. It seemed funny to think of at the time, but I could hear a heartbeat inside the warm muscle of his chest and it made me feel happy and complete. The pattern was quick, like he’d been running, then it slowed to a steady hypnotic beat.

“Whatever I have to do,” I whispered, “to save you, I will. No matter what it takes, I am not going to let them have you.”

“Emma.” William pulled away from me then, holding me at arm’s length. “You will not risk your life to save mine. Do you hear me? You were brought into this for some reason, who knows why, but it wasn’t to die and that’s for damn sure.”

“Tell me what I can do, William, because I am not giving up. I won’t leave town without you. I just
won’t.
”

He ran his palm along the back of his neck in concentration. “You could learn to protect yourself, using your mind. There’s a man here in town, a big Indian fellow, who knows a lot about using the spirit for protection. I found him one day while wandering around house to house, trying to cure my boredom. He knows when I show up, although we’ve never been able to communicate. He’s kind of a funny guy, has a lot of statues all over the roof of his house and yard. Perhaps you could be a speaker for me. We could explain the situation to him and ask for his help.”

I nodded and gave a slow smile. First battle won, the next would be getting him to agree to becoming a human again.

The sun was almost completely gone outside the west-facing attic window. William had already faded a little, and I began to feel panicky inside. It seized me—I wanted to capture him, make him real, forever.

“Wait here for just a second, I’ll be right back.”

I left him looking confused, and ran down the narrow attic steps to the hall, rushing into my room for the old sketchbook, half-filled. I grabbed it off the dresser, and then sprinted through the door and up the steps again.

“I want to draw you,” I said, trying to catch my breath. William looked unsure. “Please? Just go sit over there, on the box again.”

He did as commanded, positioning himself in a slightly hunched stance, forearms resting against his thighs, with hands hanging down between his legs.

I held up the pencil to read his angles, and then transferred a few light strokes to the textured page. After that, I fleshed out everything I could, not missing any detail—every wave of his hair, the hard line of his jaw, the slightly bemused lift upon those rose-colored lips, his strong hands with the long, masculine fingers. I was obsessed with the way his shirt draped over his right shoulder, and the simple curve of blue plaid stretching tight against the muscles of his chest. When I was done, I took a long breath and sat back, brushing the hair out of my eyes, suddenly feeling quite tired. That’s when I looked at him for real, without the intricate scrutiny of an artist’s eye. He was breathtaking.

Someday he would be solid and real, I knew it despite his words of fatality. At night his face would illuminate with lamplight or moonlight, and nothing would make him disappear. I wanted to be the one lying next to him watching the glow on his skin.

“May I see it?”

Feigning confidence, I turned the paper canvas to him, wincing at his serious expression as he viewed the work.

“It’s good, Emma. You took great care in that.”

We sat there, a whole distance of attic mess and boxes separating our bodies. I saw him in the last stage of fade.

“Tomorrow,” William whispered, sounding much farther away than the distance between us. I nodded, watching as his skin turned translucent, dark, a jellyfish in a black ocean.

When he was gone I let out an explosive cry, grabbing the first thing I could find—a Christmas angel—and threw it into the shadows of the attic. Glass splintered against a wall, falling in shards onto an unseen floor. A severed wing slid over to my feet, the dust of crushed ceramic layered over its pure white feathers.

“As a matter of fact, I’m going tonight. I was going to ask you to come along, but I‘ll wait until you’ve calmed down. We can go tomorrow night.”

When she looked at me I noticed something strange—the eyes that used to be a bright green were now much paler, almost gray. Worst of all was the way they looked right through me, as if I wasn’t there. I swallowed my shock as she went on speaking. “You know, when I left Springvale I was the same age as you. I was seventeen—young and naive. I thought I knew everything. I thought I’d never come back. I was wrong. My life never made sense until the day I joined the Seekers. They make me feel important.”

“What are you saying? I love you. Grandmother Carrie loves you.”

“I’m not really talking about love. I’m talking about belonging.”

“Those men—they don’t know you, Mom. They’re selfish; they’re not a real church. I’m right here, and I can help you. I know you have a drinking problem. We haven’t really talked about it, but it’s not like I haven’t noticed you acting different. We can go back to Colorado Springs and join an Alcoholics Anonymous group. I’ll get a better job to help pay for the move. Give me a few days to get some things worked out and we can go. Just please, I’m begging you, Mom,
please
don’t go to that church!”

My lip began to tremble. When I reached out to touch her hand, she yanked it away.

“I don’t need help,” she said with an angry whisper, eyes flaring to life suddenly. “You do. Both you and Grandmother Carrie.”

“I don’t understand.” Our eyes met, and I could barely stand to look into the hard, black pupils that seemed like pinpoints. “Are you talking about our psychic ability?”

“It’s evil. They can teach you how to stop.”

A million thoughts ran through my head with one common theme. She was the missing factor. “You weren’t born with it,” I mumbled, more to myself. “The gift—it skipped you. Is that why you’ve been so angry?”

She backed away, eyes turning lifeless again.

I ran around to stop her from heading down the stairs. “It isn’t evil. I always thought it was a curse, but it’s not. Please, let’s just talk about this. I’m begging you not to go there. . . .” I stopped short when her hand met my face with a hard slap.

“Tomorrow,” she said, with a voice barren of emotion. “It will all be worked out when you come with me tomorrow.”

I sat in the hall and listened to the sound of her leaving the house. I was still there when the phone rang again a few minutes later.

I walked downstairs, picked the receiver up off its ringing base, and spoke. “Meet me outside. Five minutes.”

“You’re crying. You’re still mad at me,” Jesse said.

“Yes and yes.”

Jesse was good as gold, swinging around the corner like the hand of a clock popping onto the hour. I ran down the front steps and got in the passenger seat before he could cut the engine.

“Drive,” I told him.

He backed out and headed east.

“Sorry about last night, Emma. I’m just a sore loser, that’s all. When I heard you talking about him, I lost it.” His voice cracked. “We were going to leave town—it was all planned. You were the last person I had, you know?”

I wiped at my tears. “Don’t make me feel sorry for you, Jesse. Just be funny or something.”

“Okay. Funny.” He clicked his tongue a few times. “Tomorrow a whole bunch of Connie Francis records are set to come in, only, I might have ordered Alice Cooper instead.”

I snorted. “Oh my God, why does Phil keep you?”

“Don’t know. He’s a pretty cool guy considering.”

“Considering what?”

“He’s like everyone else in town, belongs to that church.”

“The
Soul Seekers
?” I couldn’t help the distaste in my voice.

“Yeah. They’re pretty strict about what they allow him to sell and play. Hell, he can’t say a word without some sort of reprimand from those bastards.”

I turned to him. “Have you ever gone?”

He was slow to speak, bending to push in a new station on his dashboard stereo. “Yeah. Plenty of times.”

“What’s it like? What do they do in there?”