The Soulkeepers (11 page)

The first hour wasn't bad. He glanced at his
watch only twice and was making good progress. The second hour
became increasingly tedious. His hands began to blister. He caught
himself checking the time every ten minutes and stopping often to
count the remaining beds in the field.

Refilling the wheelbarrow proved more
difficult than he anticipated. If he loaded it up as much as he
could, it became so heavy that the handles cut into his hands. But
if he filled it only halfway, he would tire himself out making
multiple trips. The result was he tried a combination of both that
left his whole body sore and covered in compost dust.

At least he had something good to think
about while he worked. Malini. Amazingly, she was his girlfriend
now. He thought often of their first kiss and those that followed.
The memory never got old.

By the time he hoisted the last shovel into
the last bed, the sun was high. He felt dirty, tired, and more than
anything, thirsty. He was supposed to be done in an hour. Jacob
wasn't sure if Dr. Silva would even want him to start the next
project, but he decided to track her down to find out.

As he approached the threshold of the
orchard, he noticed the maples were covered in buds. They lined up
on the east of the property like a skeleton army. Fog had settled
among them, under the shade of the entangled branches, creating a
border between light and shadow that he stepped over to follow Dr.
Silva's general direction. Mist slithered in wispy tendrils around
his ankles, the ground beneath him squishing under each step. Layer
upon layer of fallen leaves decomposed below his feet. A musty
smell like dirt and maple syrup lingered in the air.

Jacob tried not to think about how creepy
the orchard was. The trunks of the trees were scarred with knots
and hollows. Cobwebs stretched from limb to trunk. He ran into a
few and wiped his face repeatedly to make sure it was free of
spiders.

"Dr. Silva?" he called. There was no
discernable path, no footprints to follow, but the terrain sloped
gradually downward. He wasn't worried about getting lost. When he
needed to find his way out, he could simply walk uphill.

He was thinking about how thirsty he was
when he almost walked into a hedge. It wasn't so much a traditional
hedge as it was a thick garden wall, at least ten feet high, which
made it even more embarrassing he hadn't seen it until his face had
practically met greenery. How he couldn't have noticed it was
beyond him but he felt a strange type of disorientation, like
walking into a room and forgetting why he had entered it. Maybe he
was dehydrated. Maybe exhausted.

"Dr. Silva?" he called again and began
walking along the wall.

A break in the privet revealed a
wrought-iron gate, similar to the one at the front of the house, as
if the iron had grown out of the hedge itself. Ivy interlaced
itself among the gate spindles making it almost impossible to see
anything behind it. Across the top, a vine of red roses grew, its
thorns reminding him of barbed wire.

The roses surprised him. In Hawaii plants
bloomed all year round, but since he'd come to Paris he was
painfully aware that the deciduous plants here died off in the
winter and gradually came back in the spring. This plant was bright
green and leafy, the crimson roses open and bright. The vine seemed
to defy the brown stick branches of the maples. He wondered if Dr.
Silva had used some kind of special fertilizer to make these plants
come back sooner than the rest.

"Dr. Silva, are you in there?" he yelled
through the overgrown bars.

Silence.

He reached down and tested the handle but
the gate was padlocked with an antique iron lock. This did not
surprise Jacob. It was perfectly matched to the wrought-iron gate.
What did surprise him was that someone had left the key in it.

"Gaaah!" He jumped at the flash of red that
moved beyond the gate. Through a gap in the ivy he knew he'd seen
Gideon, the red fur was unmistakable. Dr. Silva must be behind the
gate after all. Gideon was always with her.

Jacob was struck suddenly by an urge to go
home to the Laudners. The gate was locked, key or no key, and going
through without permission was risky. It didn't seem like he was
supposed to be here. Besides, it may have been the dehydration, but
his heart was racing and his gut twisted. Something told him to
turn back, to give up. If he left, he could just talk to Dr. Silva
about it another day or make up the hour next week.

But when he thought about the Laudners, he
remembered his eye and lip, healed now but not forgotten. Uncle
John had put himself on the line to shield him from Aunt Carolyn's
fury but it was horrible anyway. As much as he hated staying with
the Laudners, he was sorry that his actions had proven Aunt Carolyn
right in her eyes. She had feared that he would act out violently,
that he was somehow deranged, and he had proven her right. Jacob
didn't want to spend any extra time with her right then.

Swallowing hard, he reached for the lock and
tried to ignore the slight trembling in his hands as he turned the
key. There was resistance as the mechanism engaged. He turned
harder, stepping closer to the device to take advantage of his
center of gravity. The lock finally sprang open and he removed it
from its metal ring. The gate swung open and he stepped forward,
over the threshold, releasing the ivy-covered metal behind him.
With a head splitting clank, the gate slammed shut.

It was hot, rainforest hot. It was at least
thirty degrees warmer than the other side of the gate. He stripped
off his sweatshirt and rolled up his pants before reaching through
the ivy and placing the lock back on the gate handle. Dr. Silva
must have had a reason for doing this and he thought it was a good
idea to leave things the way he found them.

Following the overgrown trail, he was amazed
at the variety of plants he encountered. John had mentioned Dr.
Silva's rare plant collection and Jacob was beginning to appreciate
its significance. There were rubber trees, bamboo, palms, and
others he couldn't name. The plants were huge and thriving in an
environment he could hardly believe existed in Illinois.

When he turned the corner, a sickly sweet
smell met him head on, causing him to gag and bury his nose in his
elbow. He wished he hadn't left his sweatshirt by the gate and
could tie it around his face. The stench made his knees quiver but
the worst part was he recognized it for what it was. It was the
smell of death.

In the back of his mind he hoped Dr. Silva
didn't have anything to do with the smell. Was she capable of
killing? He wasn't sure. Jacob had to admit; finding a dead body
out here wouldn't have surprised him.

A row of gigantic flowers, six feet tall,
lined the bend in the trail. They were purplish black and covered
in beetles. He followed the pebble pathway towards them, searching
the ground for the source of the odor. The smell became more
intense, almost unbearable. He forced himself to continue down the
path and the smell gradually faded.

The corner of the gate's iron frame was
barely visible now. The ivy seemed to be growing around it as he
watched, covering what was left of the gate in thick green leaves.
Once he turned the next corner, he would lose sight of it
completely.

Jacob thought again about turning back.
There was an odd feeling in his stomach like he was at the top of a
roller coaster, when you can't see anything but air and you know at
any moment the cart is going to fall out from underneath you.

"Jaaacooob," a female voice sang from behind
the trees. He whipped his head toward the giggle that followed and
saw only a flash of flesh color between the green branches,
followed by a rush of red fur.

"Dr. Silva?" he called but the voice didn't
sound like hers. It was higher, younger.

"Go back, Jacob," a deep male voice
reverberated around him.

"Who is that? Who are you?" he said, turning
in place.

Up ahead, further down the trail he saw the
flash of flesh again, a hip, maybe an arm. Jacob couldn't tell what
part of the body it was through the dense foliage but he knew it
was a woman, a naked woman.

The female voice called to him again from
the trees. "Don't listen to him, Jacob. Come this way. Don't you
want to know?"

"Know what?" he called back. "Who are you?
How do you know my name?"

There was no answer. A streak of red
followed where the flesh color had been.

The smell of pumpkin pie wafted over him
from up ahead and he found himself walking, only half conscious,
toward the voice. Whoever she was, he wanted to know her. He wanted
to see her. He felt pushed and pulled at the same time, a
compulsion that forced one foot in front of the other
instinctively.

The pebbles gave way to a narrow strip of
stepping-stones, so grown over Jacob had to push aside branches to
work his way through. In a normal garden this might not be a
difficult task, but this was anything but a normal garden. Thorns
the size of his hand grew from some of the plants. Bright colors
and strangely shaped leaves, made him tentative to touch others.
The thick canopy allowed only pinpoints of light to filter down
from above.

Everything about the place seemed wrong. For
one, the size of the plants shouldn't have been able to fit within
the boundaries of the property as he could see it from the street.
He wondered if it was an optical illusion, the sloping terrain and
winding trail making the garden seem bigger than it was. But that
couldn't explain why it was at least ninety degrees. He tried not
to think about it as he pushed a vine out of his way and stepped to
the next stone.

A broad mass of spiky yellow needles, like a
cactus but with no green trunk, bordered the trail. Jacob balanced
on the far edge of the stone and slithered to the next. From this
stone, he could see a vine with what looked like a two-foot
cucumber growing from it on his right. It wouldn't have been as
remarkable if it weren't fuzzy and blue, with a texture like mold
and a middle that rippled like a jellyfish. The rippling was
hypnotic and as he continued down the path, he glanced back several
times to watch.

The distraction caused him to trip over a
root grown across the trail. The momentary illusion of flight gave
way to a painful meeting of hands, knees, and stone.

"Crap!" he cursed. The fall had gashed his
knee and blood ran down his calf.

"Have a nice trip! See you next fall," the
girl's voice said with a giggle. He looked around but couldn't see
anyone.

"Where are you? Who are you?" he called.

"Keep going and you'll find out."

He removed one of his socks and tied it
tightly around the wound. Bending and unbending his knee, he tested
if anything was broken. He got to his feet and tried to put some
weight on it. Pain shot up his leg. There was no way he could go
any further. He decided to head back to the Laudners and talk with
Dr. Silva later.

"Good, Jacob. Go home." It was the man's
voice again.

As he moved to step over the pool of blood
on the stone, Jacob reconsidered. What was the man's voice trying
to keep him from? What was Jacob missing at the end of the path? If
he left, he would never know.

Besides, going back was looking a lot more
difficult. On both sides of the path a sprawling mass of flowers
waved. Their heads looked like yellow snapdragons but their foliage
was exotic like some type of orchid. The heads were slapping the
bloody stone. If he continued this way, he would have to push past
them. Jacob thought that was a bad idea: first, because they were
moving without the benefit of any type of breeze and second,
because they were licking the blood from the stone. The flowers
were drinking his blood.

Jacob flinched as one of the flowers reached
for the bloody sock around his knee. Its teeth latched onto the
blood soaked cotton. He backed away and a piece of the sock ripped
off in the flower's jaws. "What the hell?" He turned and ran down
the path to dodge the remaining swinging heads. What was this
place? He leapt over a snapping yellow flower and bounded stone to
stone toward a stream of light ahead. The forest opened.

From the shaded stepping stone path, Jacob
emerged onto a delta of sand where the trees and plants ended.
Panting and exhausted, he stooped forward with his palms on his
knees and the sun on his back. Calling out for Dr. Silva wasn't an
option. His mouth was too dry and besides he was sure he'd reach
the back of the garden soon anyway. How big could this place be?
There was no turning back now. His only hope was to find her.

Forward he trudged through what seemed like
an acre more of meadow before the sandy path ran directly into a
dune. The climb to the top left his muscles burning and his mouth
dry as a stone. But from the top of the dune he could see the back
wall of the garden. The ten-foot privet was a natural blockade to
the skeletal forest beyond. In the valley between the dune and the
back privet, a labyrinth of spiky cacti went on for miles. At the
center, he could make out the twisting branches of a gigantic
tree.

His head hurt. Where was Dr. Silva? Why had
he come so far? Had the voices he'd heard before been a figment of
his damaged brain? Exhausted and dehydrated, he suspected he was in
trouble and was sure that if he sat down, he would never get back
up. If he died here, would anyone ever find him?

He closed his eyes, longing for the
Launders' sage green recliner.

When he opened them again, he was surprised
to see Gideon sitting in the sand by his feet.

"Where did you come from?" he croaked.

The cat gave a low growl.

"I don't suppose you know where Dr. Silva
is?" he said to the cat. The animal stared at him for a long time.
If Jacob didn't know better he would swear that Gideon was thinking
something through. After some time, the cat blinked slowly, then
started down the dune toward the maze. He followed to the mouth of
the labyrinth but the cat was too fast and by the time he entered
under the thorny arch, Gideon was nowhere to be seen.