by Russo, Jessa
“Hey, what’s that all about?” I pointed to Greg’s sour expression. “Why do you and Toby hate each other so much? Because of Ariadne?”
Greg chuckled. “No. Definitely not because of Ariadne. And I don’t hate Toby. I love him. Like a brother. But we fight like brothers, too. And most of the time…well, screw it. Yeah, it’s definitely something to do with Ariadne. But that’s water under the bridge.”
Water under the bridge, huh? Sure didn’t seem that way. I raised my eyebrows and waited for more of an explanation on that issue, but it didn’t come.
“Anyway, like I said. I love the guy, but here I am, cleaning up his mess. I don’t even know if he knows what Ariadne’s up to.”
“Wher—?” I stopped myself before asking where Toby was. I didn’t need to know. He wasn’t my concern or my business anymore. And frankly, I wanted to think of him less during waking hours because of how consumed with him my nights had become. “What’s this mess all about, then, Greg?” I added air quotes to the word mess, confused by his choice of words.
“Okay. Where to start? As you know, we’re soul collectors, or, gatherers. I guess I see myself more as a guide, though. But soul guides sounds silly.”
He thought soul guides sounded sillier than soul collectors did? I bit my tongue to prevent any snarky comments from escaping my lips. Jessie handed me my coffee, and I took a long sip.
Ahh.
“Go on,” I said, motioning for Greg to continue.
“Our jobs are to find lost souls, right? Once we find them, we sort of guide them to their destination.”
“Like Heaven or Hell,” Jessie chimed in. With a facial expression bordering bored, I realized she must have already heard all of this. I was always the last to know.
“Yes, like Heaven or Hell.”
“So you’re like an angel?”
“No,” Greg laughed, “definitely not angels. But not demons either,” he quickly added in response to the widening of my eyes. “It’s not like that, Ev. We’re not celestial beings at all. We’re kind of like—”
“They’re like lost souls themselves, Ev. Get it?”
Um, no. I didn’t get it at all. What did that even mean? Toby and Greg were lost souls?
“Slow down, Jess. Don’t forget Ever hasn’t had as much time to digest this.”
“Oh, please, like I have? I only had the amount of time it takes to drink two Bloodies at breakfast, Greg.” She turned back to me. “Look, Ever, Greg and Toby—they’re not like us. They’re not human. I mean, they are—heartbeats and all that—but they’re not. They’re dead.”
“What?” I shrieked. I focused on Greg, scanning his face for any indication that what Jessie said was true.
“Dude. I’m not dead.”
“But you died,” Jess stated.
“Yes, but then I was given a choice. Stay dead, or come back. With one condition.”
“Become a soul collector,” I whispered.
“Exactly. In order to get my second chance at life, I had to become a soul collector. At the time, it seemed like an obvious choice. But I’ll be honest with you guys…it doesn’t get any easier. Especially with the souls that aren’t lost, but are just reluctant to go.”
“Like Frankie?”
“Yeah,” Greg said with a sigh. “Sending them on is like…killing them all over again. It’s not easy, and it’s not fun.”
“So, do you know how you’ll die now? Or, do you live forever or something? How’s it work?”
“Oh, Ever, they aren’t vampires!”
Funny, coming from Jessie.
“We don’t live forever, and I’m not sure how we die the second time. I think we just kind of check out, if you will. But, depending on who we were in the first life, we have like…a list of things we have to do before we can die. A specific number of collections we have to make, that varies for each collector. If that makes sense.”
“It doesn’t. But wait…would that mean if you didn’t finish the list, then you would live forever?”
“No. It doesn’t work like that.”
“Okay, so can you be killed?”
“Ever!”
“It’s okay, Jess; I’m sure Ever isn’t asking so she can attack me. Yes, I’m pretty sure we can be killed, but as far as dying of natural causes…”—Greg shrugged and shook his head—“that’s something that won’t happen until after we’ve completed our lists.”
“So how long is your list?” I asked him.
“I can’t share that with you.”
“What?” Jessie asked. “What do you mean? If I’m going to date you again, shouldn’t I know how long I have with you? A day? A week? A lifetime?”
Greg ran a hand over his cropped brown hair. “Yes, you should get to know that, Jess. But I can’t give you specifics.”
“How about vague, non-specifics? Do I have time with you or don’t I?”
“I’m not going anywhere, babe.”
Jessie turned to stare out the window, gnawing on her bottom lip. I recognized the gears-turning expression and knew she’d just checked out of the conversation, needing a few minutes to process everything.
“How did you become a soul collector?” I asked.
“I was getting to that. Okay, it’s different for everyone, but for Toby and me…it started the same way.” He paused, running his hand over his hair again. “It’s kind of a long story, but let’s see…about five years ago, I was on vacation up in Seattle.”
The mention of that city set off warning bells in my mind, as I remembered Toby’s hometown was not Butte, Montana, regardless of what I’d originally been told. Greg continued, not knowing my mind was focusing on that one bit of info.
“I was supposed to be gone for two weeks—see the sights, check out Seattle U, party with my football buddies. I ended up meeting Ariadne.” He paused, shaking his head. “That’s when it all went to shit. My original plan no longer mattered. College no longer mattered. She was what mattered. Within days of meeting her, she’d consumed my entire world.”
I pictured Ariadne as a giant insect, actually eating Greg’s world. Jessie repositioned herself on her barstool, joining the conversation again, but clearly uncomfortable by this story. Greg reached out and rubbed her knee, a sweet, soothing gesture. I smiled, happy to see them on the mend. I’d hated seeing Jessie heartbroken.
“When I say consumed, I mean absolutely consumed. Ariadne was everything to me. I blew off the team, blew off the college scouts from S.U…blew off my coach. I left the hotel we were all staying in and moved in with her. I sent a letter home to my parents—couldn’t even bother to call them on the phone—and never went back to L.A…didn’t even graduate.” Greg paused, inhaling a deep breath and running his hand over his short hair. “I would have died for that girl.”
“Holy crap,” I whispered, unable to believe where this story was going.
“Okay, let me try to explain the best I can. I didn’t die for Ariadne. But I would have. And apparently, that’s all she needed from me. The knowledge I would do anything for her, the sureness of my devotion. The knowledge I would kill for her. And die for her.” Greg closed his eyes and sighed. “And I would have. No question. So, when I did die, she gave me a choice. That’s when everything changed. That’s when I got this.”
Greg pulled his shirt up and I gasped. Along the left side of his torso, the inked wing stretched down, wrapping its thick-outlined black feathers around his abdomen. I didn’t need to see more—I knew the image well.
“Jess, why didn’t you tell me?”
“Oh that? Yeah right. You know how much I hate tattoos, Ev. If I had told you Greg was fully covered—”
“That’s a bit of an exaggeration, babe,” Greg chimed in.
“—you would have called me a hypocrite. I mean, how was I supposed to know they all had the same thing?”
“Okay, so…you got a tattoo for her, then died…and that’s when you became a soul collector? I don’t get it.”
“So wai
t,” Jessie interrupted, her brows drawn together. “How did you die?”
“It was a car accident. Stupid and, well…I was reckless. I’d been out with Ariadne that night, taken her to the local brewery. I had no idea she’d meet someone while she was with me, but I should have known better, should have seen through her”—he sighed—“I was blind though, and I really thought we’d be together forever. It was like I couldn’t see anything past Ariadne, so not being with her wasn’t an option. Or, worse than that, the concept didn’t even exist. I really can’t explain it, you guys. She’s just…I don’t know. It’s crazy. And honestly, looking back at it, I still can’t figure out how she had me so obsessed with her. Like I was under her spell or something. Which sounds completely lame.
“So we’re at the bar, and she’s got her eyes on the busboy. Not even the bartender. The goddamned busboy. This kid’s looking at her like she’s God’s gift to men, and she’s got this look in her eyes like she’s about to make a meal of him right there in the middle of the restaurant.”—Greg shook his head—“And twenty minutes into the night, she tells me to get lost; that she’ll find another ride home.”
“Holy crap. She’s horrible.” Even more so than I thought. Ugh.
“So the busboy was Toby, and—”
“Aha,” I said, finally starting to put things together. “So that’s why you guys don’t like each other.”
“I don’t dislike the guy…we just rub one another the wrong way sometimes.”
“So she left you for Toby, but you still became a soul collector and got a tattoo for her? I don’t get it.”
“I hit up my favorite dive bar and knocked a few back. Well, more than a few. I think I was there for a good four or five hours. I just wanted to get drunk and forget about her. And him. And that fact that she’d just publicly burned me for some dude she’d just met.”
“And you drove like that,” Jessie whispered, shaking her head gently.
“Yup. Then she was there. At the accident. As if Ari knew it would happen and went there to wait for me. She gave me my options, and I chose to be with her. To live again. To do it all over.”
I waved my hand in the air, unable to hide my growing impatience. “And the tattoo?”
“This is the part I can’t really explain. I’ve gone over it a thousand times in my head, but none of it makes any sense. All I know is what I saw, and what I felt…and words don’t come close to explaining it.”
Jessie was on the edge of her seat, her knees bouncing. “Ever, the tattoo…it, like…transferred to him.” Jessie’s eyes were wide, as if she was telling me the secret to everlasting life, or handing me the Holy Grail itself. “It appeared out of nowhere!”
Greg’s silence implied Jessie’s explanation made perfect sense, yet once again, I felt completely lost.
“What do you guys mean? What are you telling me here? That Ariadne’s tattoo transferred onto you? You know that’s impossible, right?”
“I do,” Greg said. “I do know it’s impossible, Ever. But that’s what happened. I told you I didn’t have the words to explain it. She gave me the choice, and I chose a second chance. A second chance to live. I didn’t care that I’d have to collect souls, or that my life would no longer truly be my own. All I cared about was her. I didn’t want to die, but mostly, I didn’t want to leave Ariadne. So when she asked, and I made my choice, she sealed the deal. With this.” He tapped on his chest where the tattoo hid beneath his shirt.
I pushed my chair back and stood, spilling my coffee as I did so. This was too much. I couldn’t keep my anger in. “You know what, you guys? I need some space. I can’t deal with this right now. It’s early—”
“It’s noon,” Greg interjected.
“—and I’m tired. My brain isn’t working yet, and frankly, I can’t shake the feeling that you’re messing with me about this. Transferring tattoos…” I shook my head.
“We’re not messing with you. Greg’s telling the truth. You’re being silly.”
“Fine,” I snapped, unfairly angry at them. “Why don’t you and Greg go off and reconnect—and I’ll stay here with my silliness!”
“Ever!”
Jessie jumped up to follow me, but I locked the door to my room behind me. I turned on the TV full blast—which was always my go-to for avoiding someone—and sat down on the bed.
Ghost collectors! Transferring tattoos! Was this really my life? Like, where did I go so wrong that landed me on a non-stop flight to crazytown?
I stood and began to pace. Jessie knocked on the door, but I ignored her—no way I wanted to listen to anything else she or Greg had to say. I was way too heated up. The crystal blue water outside caught my eye, drawing me to the patio door. I desperately wanted to go for a swim, but how would I get by Jess and Greg? I slid the patio door open and stepped outside.
Ha! I hadn’t even noticed them before. Stairs. My room had its own little spiral staircase down to the pool level. I returned inside, powered off the television, ignored Jessie’s incessant talking through the door, and grabbed my towel and sunglasses. I didn’t need anything else. I’d come back in this way when I was done, and if I didn’t take too long, Jessie would probably still be apologizing through the closed door.
I threw my hair into a half-assed ponytail and left the room.
Man, these stairs really were tiny—I paused, gauging the sturdiness of the rusted iron—maybe they weren’t meant for anything but emergencies. But wait! This was an emergency—my friends had lost their minds and I needed an escape.
Worked for me.
I made my way down to the beach, miraculously without gypsies selling knick-knacks and toe rings accosting me. I laid my towel down and undressed, leaving my sunglasses hidden underneath the mound made by my fluffy towel and cover-up. Hopefully no one would steal them, or even notice they were there.
The warm blue water soothed me, easing the tension from my shoulders and instantly calming my mood. The ocean could be magical that way sometimes, and when it was as crystal clear as this… I stood in neck-high water, and I could still see my toes. Amazing.
I swam and bodysurfed on miniature waves for a while, flailing around like a little kid and not caring who saw me, then made my way to the hotel pool. I wasn’t quite ready to go back up to the room yet, and the pool would be perfect for getting any residual salt off my skin. I could shower before we went to lunch, but for now, I just had to get the ocean off my body. I loved swimming in it, but hated carrying it with me.
I dropped my towel and sundress on one of few empty chaises, then slid down into the cool, refreshing…salt water. Ugh. So much for getting the salt off my skin. Oh well. I closed my eyes, sucked in a deep breath, and plunged into the water, then swam across to the deep end of the pool. When I emerged, I was in shadow, which didn’t seem right. I couldn’t remember there being a cavern or cabana on this side of the pool.
I opened my eyes, blinking quickly as salt water dripped into them, then squinted up at the figure standing above me. I waited for the person to say something, figuring it was a cocktail server or something, but I was met with continued silence. Placing my hand above my eyes, I tried to block the light to see who stood on the deck peering down at me. The towering figure unsettled me, but not being able to make out anything distinguishing about him felt even more wrong. With the sun directly behind him, I could only see a dark silhouette against a blinding sky, though he was definitely a man—the wide shoulders and short hair gave that much away. As I stared up at him, he turned and walked away, leaving his face completely hidden as the sunlight blinded me in his absence.
That was strange. Was he staring at me, or had I mistaken?
As the man left the recreation area, I noted that more peculiar than his behavior, was the dark wool suit he wore. Very out of place for poolside in Cabo.
As I exited the swimming pool, no longer feeling comfortable alone, and wishing I hadn’t ran off from Jessie and Greg, my stomach produced a growl that I thought might rumble
on and on forever. I’d calmed down considerably—aside from the freaky feeling remaining from the guy watching me swim—and may as well let my friends say their apologies and move on. I wasn’t one to hold a grudge anyway, and I wanted to enjoy my vacation. Aside from a lunch I couldn’t wait to have, we still had an ATV tour to schedule and a snorkeling pirate boat trip out to Lover’s Beach, or Lover’s Cove, or something.
Ah hell. I’d be the third wheel with Jessie and Greg at a place called Lover’s whatever. I wished Frankie was with me. That thought put a spring in my step, and I hurried to get out of the water. I needed to call and check in with Frankie. I wanted to hear his voice.
I headed for the bathrooms next to the pool bar we’d been at yesterday to rinse off before heading back up to the room, since salt residue still coated my skin—thanks to the saltwater pool.
The showers were deep in the ladies’ bathroom, past the individual toilet stalls, and down a narrow hallway with lockers and mirror stations. Little white curtains separated each shower from the next, and another white curtain acted as the door. At least I wasn’t getting naked and trying to take a real shower in there, because privacy seemed to be an issue. I could handle someone catching me in my bikini, but fully naked would be a problem. As it was now, the chances of that happening weren’t very likely, anyway, since I was alone as far as I could tell.
I rinsed quickly, then began drying off with my salty, sandy towel—which kind of defeated the purpose of the shower in the first place, as I was now covered in grit—when the scraping sound of metal on metal caught my attention as someone slid the flimsy shower curtain aside. I began to turn around to confront the person who somehow managed to pick the one occupied shower stall, but a man’s hand closed down over my mouth, stopping me from moving as he wrapped his other arm across my chest, then hauled me backward into his body. I kicked my feet and tried to swing my arms, but the way his arms surrounded me, I was practically immobile.
