by Russo, Jessa
The ghost cackled a harsh, scratchy laugh, reminiscent of sandpaper. I briefly wondered if he’d been a smoker in his lifetime.
“No, child, I am not Death, and I am not yet a Reaper. But it is not important what I am. It is what you are that matters. And you are worth a lot. I can see the Brand. It shines; it calls to me.”
With that he disappeared. Just completely gone, in the blink of an eye.
“What the hell was that?” Jessie’s words came out in a high-pitched shriek.
Greg threw his arms around her, pulling her close. Her body shook as though she was crying, but I didn’t hear any sobs.
Toby led me inside the room by placing his hand lightly on my lower back. I allowed him to lead me and then broke away from the contact and sat on the corner of the double bed on the left—the one the ghost hadn’t been looming over. I knew he was gone, but couldn’t keep my eyes from darting around the room looking for any proof that he remained. Toby and Greg looked around the room as well.
“That,” Greg said into Jessie’s hair, “was a Seeker.”
“A what?” I asked.
“A Seeker.” Toby answered me as he sat down a few feet from me on the other corner of the bed.
Jessie remained encased in Greg’s arms. She must have been really scared. My heart pinched at that thought. She’d already been through so much. All because of me.
“A Seeker”—Toby’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts—“is someone who works for the soul collectors. But not all of us. Not even many of us. I’ve never met someone like me who would dare hire a Seeker.”
“I don’t get it. I mean, your job is to send lost souls to their…final resting place or whatever. So why would a soul want to actually work for you? That seems…”—I paused, trying to find the appropriate word—“…backward.”
“It is. Trust me. It’s the opposite of the work we’re supposed to be doing. And it effects a soul collector’s quota—and not in a good way. But for some, the risk is worth the reward.”
“Finding me.”
Toby gave me a half smile. “Exactly.”
“Wait a minute.” Jessie turned around and faced us, but Greg’s arms still held her to his chest. The differences in their heights and shapes of their bodies made them fit almost perfectly together like that. Both of them could look at us without craning their heads. Greg’s arms wrapped and crossed just under her chest. Jessie rested her arms on them and continued. “If the soul collectors are risking everything in hiring a Seeker”—she made air quotes around the word—“then what is the Seeker risking? Or better yet, what do they get out of the job?”
“Life.”
Frankie.
The answer was so simple it should have been obvious. Life. Obviously, to someone who wanted it badly enough, working for the bad guys wouldn’t seem like such a terrible trade. To someone who wanted to live again, what trade wouldn’t be worth it? I wondered what Frankie would have done to become human again.
Holy shit.
I wondered what Frankie did do.
“Okay,” Jessie continued, oblivious to the dangerous direction my thoughts had taken. “So the soul collectors hire the seekers. Then the Seekers do what, like, hunt for the people like Ever, the people whose souls are worth more?”
“Basically, yes. I think.”
Jessie turned in Greg’s arms at his response and pulled free so she could step a foot back and face him. When her hands hit her hips, I knew her fear was gone—replaced with irritation.
“You think?”
“Well,” Greg began. “I’m not really sure how it works. I’ve never actually…”
“We’ve never known anyone with a Soul Brand.”
“What?” I shrieked.
“Or any collectors who have successfully branded anyone.”
“Oh my God, Toby.” I didn’t know what else to say.
“Let me get this straight,” Jessie snapped. “You’re telling me that those evil soul collectors have hired ghoul bounty hunters that are looking for my best friend, but you’re not entirely sure that’s what’s happening here?”
“Yes,” Greg said with a sigh.
“And one of them found us and decided that it was okay to watch me sleep?”
“Yes.”
“And why was I alone?”
Greg’s shoulders slumped. I knew he’d never forgive himself for leaving her alone, even if it was only for a few short minutes.
“Babe—”
“Jess, it’s my fault. Toby and I couldn’t sleep, so we went outside. Greg woke up, didn’t see us and panicked. He was outside with us for all of two minutes—”
“You couldn’t sleep? Are you okay? Why didn’t you wake me?”
Oh Jessie. My best friend woke up staring into the eyes of a dangerous ghost—Seeker—and all she cared about was how I was feeling, and why I didn’t wake her when I couldn’t sleep.
I shook my head. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I mean, now that that thing is gone. Ugh.” She shivered. “That was seriously creepy. Let’s go eat! I want one more huge plate full of chilaquiles before we leave Mexico.”
As if on cue, my stomach growled.
“See? Your stomach wants some, too, because nobody says no to chilaquiles,” she said, eyes wide. “Let’s pack up.”
After taking turns in the bathroom, packing up our few belongings, and finding a tiny restaurant that was open this early, we’d sufficiently stuffed ourselves, avoided any and all conversation regarding soul collectors, and I’d felt…if only for a minute…that I was just a normal teenager on vacation.
Driving home now, the silence in the car was thick with my unspoken questions. Or maybe it just seemed that way to me, my guilt for not demanding all the answers I longed for.
We eventually left Toby’s rental car at a dealership in San Diego and hopped into the mustang—which had been left for us by the other soul collectors, apparently.
I have to admit that it felt a bit strange to be back in Toby’s car. Strange but comfortable, if I was being honest with myself.
The silence continued as we drove up Interstate 5, Greg’s yellow beast following closely behind us, and questions catapulted through my mind, one after the other, until I couldn’t take the silence anymore.
I should have ridden with Jessie and Greg, but for whatever reason, probably old habits, it was just assumed I’d ride with Toby.
“Why can I see some ghosts but not others?”
“What?” he asked, clearly startled by my sudden talking. “What do you mean?”
“Well, I’m assuming that there are more ghosts on earth than just Frankie—well, before, obviously—and the ghost I saw on the Queen Mary that day—”
“Ah. So you did see her. I thought you had.”
“Yeah. But that ship is supposed to be completely haunted, right? And I only saw her. So…” I paused, trying to put my thoughts into order. “And then the Seeker. I could see him, and so could Jessie, obviously. So why? Why can we see some ghosts and not others?”
“Well, it’s pretty basic, honestly. The majority of people, yourself most likely included, can see ghosts when they want you to see them.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. I know you were hoping for some other explanation, but that’s about the gist of it. However, it is odd that you and Jessie can both see ghosts. That’s a pretty big coincidence.”
“What do you mean? Isn’t it because they want us to see them? I mean, that Seeker obviously wanted Jessie to be scared, the way he was leaning over her like that.” I shivered as a chill raced up my spine. My poor best friend had been through so much because of me.
“He did. Definitely. But even if they want you to see them, it only works if you can.”
If we can. So then, like an ability or something. Hmm. “So what does that mean? We have some ghost-seeing skill? Like the Ghost Whisperer or something? And Jessie and I both happen to have it, and we’re also best
friends? Is that really that big of a coincidence, or do a lot of people have the ability? I mean, you, Ariadne, Greg, Ted, my mom, my dad…etc.”
“You make a good point, and I don’t know about your mom and dad—all I can come up with is that Frankie wanted them to see him badly enough—for whatever reason. Maybe he wanted to fit in with your family so badly, or maybe you get it from your parents, though I’m not sure it’s really all that hereditary. I don’t really know, Ev.”
“What about you guys?”
“I’ve always had it. It’s part of what made me a good fit for…my job.”
“And the other part?”
“That’s a story for another day.”
“Seriously, Toby? After all I’ve been through since you showed up in my life? You really can’t just be honest with me?”
He looked over at me, silently pleading with me to let it go. Uh-huh. Fat chance. I didn’t owe him anything, and it was well past time for some much-needed answers.
“Toby. How did you become a soul collector?”
He sighed, and his shoulders fell slightly, but he kept his focus on the road, apparently giving up on trying to woo me with those dark blue eyes.
“I met Ariadne in Seattle, about”—he looked up to the side as if the answer was in his rearview mirror—“two years ago. Wow. It seems like so much longer than that.”
“Well, she’s such a joy to be around; I can see why your time with her would feel infinite.”
“Yeah. No shit. So I’m working in this bar up there, a brewery with a restaurant and all that, bar-backing and saving every penny I made—”
“I know.”
“What? What do you know?”
“Greg told me he met you at a bar. And Ariadne ditched him to go after you.”
“Oh. Yeah, well…”
“That’s why you guys don’t like each other.”
“Yeah. Well, no. I mean, I like Greg just fine. I’m not too sure he ever got over that day completely though, regardless of the fact that we’ve become so close since then.”
“Okay, so go on. Seattle.”
“Yeah. I’d wanted out of Seattle for as long as I can remember. The weather, the people, my own defunct family. I just wanted out. I wanted a new start. So one day, this chick walks into my life and ruins my plan.”
I readjusted in my seat, suddenly uncomfortable with this story and wondering if I should have even asked. Hearing about Toby’s life with Ariadne wasn’t going to be very pleasant.
“Don’t worry, I’ll condense it.”
Clearly, my discomfort had been obvious.
“So I get caught up in the chaos that is Ariadne. I didn’t see it that way then—I just thought I was having fun and hooking up with some chick. I never even paused to wonder why she’d just shown up out of nowhere and suddenly inserted herself into every waking moment of my life. It was just…everything was suddenly all about Ariadne. I don’t even remember how or when it happened.”
Where have I heard this before? Toby and Greg’s stories were eerily similar, and I tried to compare as I listened to Toby’s rendition of Greg’s story.
“My plans to leave Seattle were forgotten, my plans to do anything were just…when I wasn’t with her, I wanted to be.”
I knew the feeling. He’d triggered the same reaction in me when he’d suddenly appeared in my life out of nowhere.
Wait a minute. He hadn’t appeared out of nowhere. He’d come for a job, for Frankie.
Holy crap! Pieces of the puzzle clicked into place in my brain.
“Who had Ariadne come for?”
He looked over at me then, a sad smile on his face, before turning his focus back to the road. “My mom. She’d been dead for a few years and hadn’t left the house. I’d been basically living on my own since just before I turned seventeen.”
“Where was your dad?”
“He’d split long before that.”
Oh wow. I couldn’t even imagine having both of my parents gone. “And Greg? Who had Ariadne come to Greg for?”
“That’s the only piece of the puzzle that doesn’t quite fit her M.O. She found Greg on her own, looking for some fun, as she put it. Wrong place at the wrong time, I guess.”
“Wow. That really sucks for Greg.”
“Yeah, but he’s gotten past it as much as he can, like me. We have the cards we were dealt, so we play them.”
Collecting lost souls and ruining lives could hardly be compared to a simple card game, but whatever. I remained silent in hopes that hearing more of the story would help clarify my life a bit for me.
“So, one day, Ted shows up at my door. He’s trying to come inside, talking about buying my house. I had no idea the two of them were connected until it was too late.”
“And your mom?”
“She’s gone.”
I didn’t need to know any more than that. Ariadne and Ted had shown up, Toby’s mother had been sent to her final resting place, or whatever, and Toby had become a soul collector. Part of me wanted to know the exact details of how it happened, but part of me wanted to protect him from the pain that was seeping into his story.
He was a soul collector now. The why’s and how’s of it didn’t really matter. Then the memory of Greg revealing his tattoo to me in our hotel room flashed through my mind, along with the disturbing description of how and when the tattoo transfer-thing happened, and I wondered if Toby—
“Don’t you want to know how it happened?”
His voice was so soft now, so gentle. I reached out and took his hand in mine before I even realized I’d made the move. I felt that zing of reaction as our fingers connected, and the thrilling feel of his fingers in mine made my heart sink. I dropped his hand. Placing my traitorous hand back in my own lap, I looked out the window, silently chastising myself for touching him. We weren’t friends anymore, not really, and I had a boyfriend. I had to keep my hands to myself, no matter how badly Toby’s story affected me. Or how badly it affected him.
“If you want to tell me, you can,” I whispered to the passing scenery.
“Well, I know you don’t want to hear about Ariadne and me, but I think you deserve to know what caused all of this, and how someone becomes a soul collector.”
“Okay.”
“But please remember that I don’t have any of these feelings for her anymore. I don’t love her in any way, shape or form, and I’m not sure I ever truly did, not like real love. She’s…she’s just a part of my past, okay?”
I looked over at him, feeling incredibly indignant. “It doesn’t matter to me, Toby. You can love whomever you want. It’s really not my business.”
“I think you know why it is your business.”
I turned my attention back to the world outside Toby’s Mustang, focusing on the door of a green 4-Runner passing next to us. My cheeks were hot with what I knew must have been a bright pink blush. I didn’t want to talk about Toby’s feelings for me. It was inappropriate. I had a boyfriend.
It also made me feel inappropriate, and that wasn’t good.
“I thought I loved her, Ever. I’d stayed away from girls since before my mom died, back when my dad split. I knew that no one could get close to me with my mom stuck in my house, and I knew I wanted to leave Seattle. A girl entering my life would just ruin that plan.”
“What about your mom? Were you just going to leave her there?” I felt indignant once more, but this time for his mom’s sake. Then I thought back to Frankie, and how I’d been preparing to leave for college not too long ago and knew I was a hypocrite. But at least Frankie would have been stuck there with my parents, I told myself. Not completely alone like Toby’s mom would have been.
“I don’t know what I was going to do about my mom. I guess I just hoped it would work itself out. Like, maybe if I left, she’d let go and move on. Or she’d follow me to my new place. Or something. I don’t really know. But I realize now that it was never really up to me. My life was already planned out. I just didn’t know it yet.”<
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“Because of Ariadne.”
“Yeah. She hadn’t come for me accidently, as you’ve already figured out. As Ted was showing up with more and more frequency, trying to get inside my home with one excuse or another, Ariadne was slowly consuming me. She was amazing at her job, Ev, believe me. I see through her now, but I couldn’t see it then. I was completely obsessed with her. All I wanted was her happiness. And that’s where she got me. My stupidity and my need to please her.”
He paused, and my mind raced as I tried to make sense of what I was hearing, combined with what Greg said about his nearly identical experience with Ariadne.
“It was my need to please her that led to my mom’s soul finally moving on.”
Holy crap. I almost stopped him, knowing this next part would be hard for him to say. But I didn’t. Maybe I’m a bad person, or maybe I was just too enthralled with finally getting some answers. Whatever the reason, I stayed silent.
“It was the day I became a soul collector. I left my house to be with Ariadne. It was all I could do not to run to her. I met her at the Pike—a place in Seattle—outside a tattoo shop. I’d never even considered getting a tattoo before. It wasn’t that I had anything against them, just that my deadbeat dad had been covered with the things and I’d sworn I’d never be anything like him.
“But I’d lost my job by then, lost my focus. I’d lost sight of my plan to leave Seattle. And somewhere along the line, I’d lost my priorities, because I left the door of my house unlocked”—he shook his head in disbelief—“the simplest of actions, right? Ted was able to walk right in and send my mom away. Just like that. I never saw her again.”
The sadness in his voice cut straight to my soul. I ached for him, for this Toby I’d never known.
“I walked into that tattoo shop and sat in that chair, ready to do the one thing I’d sworn I would never do, because she wanted me to. She could have asked me to jump off a bridge at that point and I would have done it to see her smile.”
The boy he painted a picture of was so far from the Toby I knew that it was almost impossible for me to rectify that the two were one in the same. My Toby was strong, confident and sure. He loved me, and I knew that he would do what he could to protect me, but I couldn’t imagine him being so consumed with me that he’d forsake all else. I couldn’t imagine him as this pathetic boy he was describing.
