by Alyson Noel
I looked her over, screwed my mouth to the side, acting as though I found it only mildly interesting, if that.
Watching as her cheeks widened, blooming into a sudden smile as she said, “Though, who knows? It’s so very odd it might actually work!” Her face radiant, beaming, but only briefly—the illusion quickly fading when she added, “Though it’s really quite doubtful, to be sure.”
I’d heard enough. I mean, it’s not like I’d traveled all that way to win her vote. My confidence was shaky enough, the last thing I needed was some sparkly princess in a fancy red dress to grind away what little I had left.
I shook my head, narrowed my gaze, and was just about to fire off some well-worn cliché, like: Yeah, well, don’t judge a book by its cover!
Or: Good things come in small packages!
Or: You ain’t seen nothing yet—prepare to be amazed!
But before I could get there, she moved toward me. Bridging the small gap between us, she offered her hand, and said, “Still, there is only one way to know for sure.”
I gulped down a mouthful of hot, dusty air and stared at her waiting, outstretched hand. All too aware that I’d just reached the part that usually, if not always, wound up dragging me headfirst into a whole heap of trouble.
And yet, that still didn’t stop me from smiling as I took it in mine.
I mean, it was just like she said, there was only one way to know for sure, and I had to start somewhere.
5
While I’m not exactly sure what I expected to happen—I did expect something to happen. In the past, that sort of hand-to-hand contact always led to me finding myself trapped in some super scary world that I had to fight like heck to bust my way out of. Which is why I was a little more than surprised to find us still standing there, hands still clasped together as the girl smiled and said, “You may call me Messalina.”
I nodded, continuing to brace for the big, dramatic thing. But when it didn’t happen, when it turned out to be just your standard, everyday kind of handshake, I freed myself from her grasp and said, “I’m Riley. Riley Bloom. And while it’s been really great talking to you, the thing is, I have a job to do. I really need to find a way to get through to Theocoles. So, if you have any helpful hints, any sort of insider info, I’d love to hear it. But if not …” I shrugged, figuring there was no need to mince words. “Well, then we should probably say our good-byes since I really need to move this thing along.”
I’d just barely finished, when she did the most unexpected thing: Instead of getting mad, or huffy, or completely offended—she laughed at me.
She stood right there before me and laughed in this gorgeous, girly way I would never be capable of no matter how hard I might try.
When I laughed, my cheeks spread too wide, my eyes went all squinty and watery, my nose turned bright red, and if it was something really funny, well, this horrible sound—a cross between a snort and a honk—would find its way out, which usually just got me going again. In short, there was nothing pretty about it.
But when Messalina laughed, it was reminiscent of wind chimes tinkling in a light summer breeze. Her shoulders lifted in a way that made her long glossy curls bounce and sway, as her cheeks flushed the color of rosebuds, and her eyes sparkled in delight.
It was almost too much.
Almost enough to make me dislike her right there on the spot.
Bringing her heavily jeweled fingers to her mouth, she finally quieted down enough to say, “Are you always in such a big hurry?”
I took a moment to consider, then said, “Yes. Pretty much always.” Unable to see what was so funny.
But when her eyes met mine the weirdest thing happened—all the annoyance that just a moment before threatened to consume me, just melted away. The feel of her gaze so comforting, it was like slipping into a warm, inviting bath.
“Well, that’s too bad,” she said. “That just won’t do around here. Ever hear the saying: When in Rome, do as the Romans do?”
I shrugged, stared at my feet, not wanting to let on that I hadn’t. Not wanting to look completely stupid in her eyes.
“You can’t just rush in, Riley. If you want to reach Theocoles, you must first understand Theocoles. You have to become familiar with his world, the time that he lived in, the reason he chooses to linger in the way that he does. And, as it just so happens, I can help you with that.”
She extended her hand once again, her gaze serene, her smile gentle, but unlike the last time, I didn’t accept it. I just stood there and stared at the way her hand hovered before me, acting as though she had all the time in the world for me to make up my mind.
I glanced between her and Theocoles who was kicking up a thick cloud of dust as he put himself through a series of jumps and kicks that were soon followed by crouches and rolls before he returned to the jumping and kicking again. Totally oblivious of her, of me, of everything around him—tuned in only to the vision that played in his head—leaving me with no doubt that my options were few.
I was in foreign territory in more ways than one. So what could it hurt to take her hand once again—to accept her offer of help? It’s not like I hesitated the first time around, so why was I suddenly so filled with doubt?
Because it could hurt plenty! The thought lodged itself in my head. You could get stuck and never find your way out—just like all the Soul Catchers that were sent here before you!
Still, as much as I knew that to be true, it wasn’t enough to stop me from mashing my lips, meeting her gaze, and saying, “On one condition, and one condition only.” Knowing it was a little weird for me to be the one making the ultimatum when I was dependent on her.
She nodded, her face appearing so beautiful, so kind, so trusting, so open, I almost felt bad for continuing.
Almost, but not quite.
I cleared my throat, kept my hands firmly by my sides, and added, “The condition being that you will not trap me, terrorize me, taunt me, or … or anything even remotely resembling that. You will help me to understand Theocoles, his world, his motivations, and whatever else I need to know so that I can get through to him and convince him that it’s time to move on. And when it’s time for me to leave—I leave. I’m not like the other Soul Catchers you’ve met. I mean, no offense or anything, but I’m not all that fond of this place. I’ve yet to see one good reason to stay. Which means I will find my way back. There’s no way you can keep me here any longer than I want. No matter how hard you try.”
She paused. Her bottom lip pushed into a ridiculously pretty pout, her expression rearranging itself into one of deep contemplation as her brown eyes met mine and she said, “And what makes you think that I’m responsible for the fate of those previous Soul Catchers?”
I narrowed my gaze, not missing a beat when I answered, “My gut.” I kept my voice stern, businesslike, wanting her to know I’d meant what I’d said. “My gut tells me you’re not all that you seem. And, just so you know, my gut is rarely, if ever, wrong about these things.”
She ducked her head, allowing a bird’s-eye view of the beautiful ruby pinned in her hair. Then lifting it again, she smiled as though she really did mean it when she said, “You have a deal, Miss Riley Bloom.” Her eyes glittered with excitement. “So, what do you say? Are you ready to travel even deeper into Theocoles’ world?”
She thrust her hand before me, palm open, fingers beckoning, and just like the first time, I didn’t hesitate. I just gritted my teeth, closed my eyes, and once again, took her hand in mine.
6
The second before I opened my eyes, I cringed. My jaw clenched, my shoulders pulled in, my entire being on high alert, bracing for the scene I was sure I would find myself in: me, cowering inside the Colosseum, caught smack dab in the middle of some grisly, blood-soaked battle fought to the death—one that involved pitchforks, swords, horse-driven chariots, and, just my luck, a gang of ferocious, ravenous lions.
So imagine my surprise when instead of finding myself immersed in some gruesome s
cene of slaughter, surrounded by a cheering, bloodthirsty crowd, I found myself standing in the most luxurious dressing room I’ve ever seen.
“Wow,” I murmured, not wanting to appear overly impressed, but still, I couldn’t keep the word from sneaking out. I’d never seen anything even remotely like it, except for maybe on movies or TV, but never in real life, and certainly never in the afterlife. “Where are we?” I turned toward Messalina, wondering why she saw fit to bring me here—not that I was complaining, but still, it didn’t seem to make any sense.
Messalina laughed—that lovely, tinkling sound bouncing off the elaborately carved marble columns and walls, echoing all around. “This is my home,” she told me, clearly amused by my reaction.
“You live here?” My eyes grew wide as I strained to take it all in—the chaise longue strewn with colorful silk throws and piles of elaborately embroidered pillows—the jumble of combs and jewels and scented oils and crèmes that littered a nearby table—the shiny, sparkly heaps of what could only be described as “girly-type-things” that draped over every available surface and spilled out of an assortment of ornately painted trunks.
“And is that—is that an indoor swimming pool?” I gestured toward a shallow, mosaic tiled pool, off in its own separate room—the water strewn with lovely pink rose petals that floated along the top, as the flickering torches glittered brightly against the white marble walls.
I couldn’t keep from gaping. Couldn’t keep from wondering why I’d never thought to manifest something like that for myself. Vowing to remedy that as soon as I returned to my home in the Here & Now.
“This is my room, and that is my bath.” Messalina cracked a slow, careful smile. “Though I wouldn’t exactly say that I live here. This is the place where I was raised, Riley. It is also where I met my death, many, many, many years ago.”
My gaze strayed from her to her things; there was so much to look at, it was hard to take it all in. “Well, I guess I can see why you stay.” I shrugged. “Unlike those gladiators down in the barracks, this is a pretty chichi place you got yourself here.”
“It is nice, and comfortable, to be sure.” She shot me a stern look as she added, “But make no mistake—it is not why I stay. Not even close.”
I turned toward her, my attention claimed by the unmistakable edge in her voice. “So why do you stay?” I asked, knowing it was time to get down to business. Time to be a little less impressed by my luxurious surroundings, and a little more focused on the reason I’d taken her hand and followed her here.
But Messalina had her own agenda, and instead of answering, she just shot me another stern look and said, “Still trying to rush this along, are you?” She shook her head, brought her hand to her temple where she sought to tame a renegade curl by tucking it back behind her ear. “You will learn everything, Riley, all in good time, I give you my word. But first, if you want to learn about Theocoles’ world, you will have to make some adjustments to fit into that world.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” My voice pitched high with suspicion, watching as she pressed a long, delicate finger to the tip of her chin as her eyes narrowed in study—rapidly traveling the length of me, up and down, back and forth, over and over again, stopping only when she’d reached some sort of conclusion.
“Well, for starters, we must do something about your clothes.” She wagged her finger at my outfit as though she found it both sad and offensive. “I’m sorry to have to say it, but this sort of attire just will not do.”
I was outraged. Stunned speechless. I mean, seriously, if she found my outfit offensive, that was nothing compared to the offense I took to the sneer she wore on her face.
“Uh, for your information,” I said, doing my best to keep my voice steady and my emotions in check, despite how annoyed I was getting. “This—” I jabbed my thumb toward the center of my chest. “This just so happens to be all the rage back on the earth plane. I’ll have you know that Miley Cyrus wore this exact same T-shirt when she stepped out for a latte and the paparazzi stalked her with a supersized telephoto lens just so they could get a really clear picture of her. And while I get that you’ve been dead for like a gazillion years, and probably don’t even know who Miley Cyrus is, let me just state that, for the record—”
“Riley, please—” She cut in, her hand raised, her palm flashing between us. “I know who Miley Cyrus is. I can move quite easily between ancient Rome and modern Rome, you know. Though admittedly, I do choose to spend most of my time here. And while I’m sorry to have offended you, I only meant to suggest that your modern clothing has no place in this world. If you want to blend in then you’ll have to first dress the part. And later, you’ll have to learn to play the part as well.”
“So, what then?” I asked, unwilling to give in so easily. I liked my look, my clothes were brand new, recently manifested, and in order to change them, I was going to need a little more convincing than she’d given so far. “You going to put me in some filthy gladiator tunic in hopes that I’ll somehow find a way to miraculously blend in among all those vicious killers? ’Cause, sorry for saying so, but I highly doubt that’ll work. I highly doubt I’ll fit in.”
I shook my head, started to mumble a few additional words not really meant for her ears, but didn’t get very far before I was surprised into silence when she placed her hands on her hips, leaned toward me, and said, “First of all—they’re not all vicious killers.” She paused, allowing enough time for her words to sink in and take root, her eyes glinting when she added, “I can see how on the surface you might think that—but if you want to complete your mission here, then you must never group them so carelessly together. You must never forget that there’s much more to their story than that which you’ve witnessed so far. Each and every one of them has their own unique reason for doing what they do. I think you’ll be very surprised to learn what they are. And second—you have a very difficult time trusting people, don’t you?” She looked me over, her gaze clearly saddened by the thought, though I was quick to correct her.
“No, not people. Just ghosts,” I snapped, mimicking her body language by placing my own hands on my hips and leaning toward her until our noses nearly touched. “And believe me, I’ve got my reasons. I’ve been burned more than once. And I don’t plan to ever let that happen again.”
I nodded to confirm it, making it clear that I was not one to be messed with, but Messalina turned away. Busying herself with a trunk full of shiny, silky, beautiful things she began sorting through.
“Well then, allow me to say that it is my sincerest wish that you will learn to relax and trust me.” She flashed me a smile from over her shoulder. “I truly hope that we can be friends. It’s been such a long time since I’ve enjoyed the companionship of a girl my own age.”
I shoved my hands deep into my front pockets and shot her a quizzical look. It’d been a while since I’d had a friend too, and it was something I was really starting to miss, but surely she didn’t think we were the same age? Surely she realized there were a handful of birthdays between us?
“But, until then,” she continued, deflecting my look with a wave of her hand. “What do you say we exchange your blue jeans and Miley Cyrus tee for this?”
My gaze shifted, and I watched in wonder as she pulled a stream of soft, silky, blue fabric from the trunk and dangled it from the tips of her fingers—the flame from the torches, along with the soft slant of light that spilled in from the windows, bathing it in the most astonishing, incandescent glow that left it shimmering before me.
It was my all-time favorite shade of blue—a deep and vibrant aquamarine. A color that instantly conjured up images of lazy days spent floating on a beautiful tropical sea. Not that I’d ever spent a lazy day like that, but still, that’s exactly what it made me think of. And as I watched her move toward me, the fabric swishing and rippling between us, I knew I couldn’t, wouldn’t resist. It was far too tempting to miss.
She pressed the fabric to my front and fussed a bit
with the shoulders and waist, her lips pressed tightly together as she yanked and tugged and tried to gauge the fit.
“What do you think?” she asked, as I peered down at myself. “Do you like it? I think it really brings out the blue of your eyes.”
“It really is beautiful,” I admitted. Though I also had to admit to myself that it would look a lot less beautiful once I was actually wearing it. Now that she held it against me, there was no denying it just wouldn’t work.
I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m really into clothes and stuff, and I like to think I’ve got pretty good taste despite what Messalina might think. But the kind of stuff I wear is usually a bit sportier than the dress she was foisting on me—a dress that was long, and flowy, and formal, and really kind of important looking.
The kind of dress you might wear if you were ever nominated for an Oscar, or a Grammy, or something.
The kind of dress that required a body that could actually fill up the fabric—the kind of body I’d long been denied.
Seriously, all you had to do was take one quick look to know that we were both headed for a major disappointment. The second I slipped on that dress it would cease to ripple and flow in that magical way. Instead it would sag and droop like an overcooked noodle.
“Um, do you have something else?” I pushed it away as though I found it offensive. “Something a little better suited to … well … someone like me?”
Messalina looked me over, her head cocked, brows drawn together. “This is suited for someone like you. Someone exactly like you, to be sure. C’mon, Riley, why not take a chance and try it on? I think you’ll find yourself quite surprised by the result.”
Her eyes coaxed, her voice bordered on insistent, but as tempting as it was to take her word for it, I knew better.
I just wasn’t up for that kind of humiliation.
I just wasn’t up for confirming what I already knew.
