Alana Blues

by Yolanda Sfetsos

[Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Six

  "I'm glad you boys could make it, I was starting to worry."

  Matt felt the goosebumps rise along his skin, even below the jacket, when he walked into the dimly lit room. He suddenly had a bad feeling about this. The walls felt too constricting. Felt as if they would start to close in on them at any second. A small throb had also ignited at the base of his skull.

  Samson Miller stood near one of the four stone walls inside the subterranean level he and Cain were taken to directly after they'd arrived. The man who'd given him the money the first time he'd come to the massive house had led the way, then disappeared.

  "Why would we miss this?” Cain said with a smile. He took a step farther into the room, leather jacket creaking with every move.

  "Would you two like a drink?” Miller asked as he raised his own amber-colored glass.

  "No thanks,” Cain answered. “Why don't we just get on with this?"

  "Ah, yes, the always impatient Cain Morris. You have been waiting a long time for this, haven't you?” Miller chuckled. He fixed his dark eyes on Cain.

  Matt took the opportunity to really gaze at the man. He appeared to be in his fifties, with gray peppered in the hair near his temples. Samson Miller might be well off, but he was a small, thin man who looked powerless. Maybe even a little sickly with his gaunt features. A thin moustache adorned his upper lip, and the small black eyes were almost rodent-like.

  "Just get on with it,” Cain said with a sneer.

  "Very well, let's not waste any more time then. Trust me when I say that I've been waiting for this moment a whole lot longer than you.” Miller turned his attention to Matt. Those uncanny eyes firmly pinned on his. “So, Matt Jensen, I wonder if you realize just how special you really are."

  The tingly feeling spread downward, from the top of his head. Matt felt as if a trickle of cold water soaked his hair, but it was just the feeling of doom that extended throughout his body.

  He closed his eyes for a second, a hand at the base of his neck to massage the pain away. But it wouldn't go away.

  When Matt turned his gaze back to Miller, he took a wobbly step back. The thin man was suddenly surrounded by an aura of wispy shapes, like mist. But it wasn't mist. They were people ... or at least the spirits of people.

  "Help us!" one of them called as he circled around Miller's torso.

  "What's wrong, dear boy?” Miller took a step forward, glass still in his hand. “Tell me, what do you see?"

  "Please release us from this bondage," another voice called. "You have no idea what it's like to be forever tied to your killer."

  "Help me." The voices all called out in frantic, haunted tones that shook his very soul. Were those the ghosts of everyone this man had killed?

  "It's all right."

  Matt felt her familiar touch on his right arm.

  Alana stepped up beside him. He turned to look at her but her eyes were on Miller's approach. Her grip tightened around his forearm.

  "I'm here with you now. You did the right thing, opening up your awareness like that. But it's also made you vulnerable to the ghosts that haunt him,” Alana whispered.

  "He killed them all?"

  She nodded. “Samson Miller is a sorcerer."

  "A what?"

  "Who the hell's he talking to?” It was Cain who asked the question. The frown on his face gave him a darker edge than Matt had ever noticed before.

  "To his lover, of course,” Miller answered.

  "His lover? What're you talking about?"

  "He's talking to Alana Alvarez. The woman you shot instead of the target I hired you for.” The old man turned toward Cain with a pointed look. As he swiveled around, he threw the glass against the wall to his right. It shattered into tiny pieces that all collected back together and reformed the small glass in midair.

  It fell on the floor, once again intact.

  That caught Matt's attention. His head felt light, heart beat hard with a hollow thump that echoed behind each sound. Sickness stirred inside his stomach as his eyes searched his friend's. The man he'd met as a boy. Two teenagers with a common goal—to make it out alive, and somehow make a living out of this darkness of the supernatural that had chased them throughout their lives.

  They'd been best friends, more like brothers. This couldn't be right. Surely, he was having some sort of bizarre nightmare.

  "Matt, it's true.” Alana's soft voice caressed his ears. “I'm sorry. I was supposed to prepare you for this revelation, but he kept appearing."

  "What'd you mean by that?” He turned to face her.

  "I couldn't contact you because you refused the gift of who you really are, but Cain's constant presence around you kept me from using my own.” Her answer was quick.

  "You said he'd never need to find out!” Cain snapped at the older man.

  Matt turned his attention back to the other two people inside this creepy room.

  Cain grabbed Miller by the arm and forcibly made him turn to face him.

  Matt watched, with Alana beside him.

  "Get your hands off me or you'll be sorry."

  "You stupid old prick. I never should've made any sort of deal with you."

  "Greed and jealousy do strange things to people."

  The look in Cain's eyes was hard and dark. “It's not why I did it."

  "No? You weren't jealous of your friend's ability to see dead people? How many times have you tried to harness the power out of him by way of potions I've provided for you?” Miller spat out each word. A small smile teased his lips. “Does he know about the secret bank account where you keep stashing the share of money you believe is yours? A monetary compensation for missing out on a little paranormal streak."

  Matt took a step forward. “Is all this true? You've been hustling me since the beginning?"

  Cain turned to look at him. He looked like a stranger, a shadow of himself. “You don't understand what it was like for me!"

  "Why didn't you tell me?"

  "What about you? You kept that ability of yours a secret from me!"

  "I kept it a secret from myself.” Matt took another step forward. His hands were closed into tight fists at his sides. Alana's hand had fallen away from him. He was all alone now, had to deal with this ultimate revelation and betrayal in the only way he knew how.

  They stood in front of each other, both Miller and Alana temporarily forgotten. Cain didn't move, just glared at him. Matt didn't hesitate; he smacked him in the nose with his fist.

  Blood gushed out instantly. Cain took a step back, hands over his nose.

  "You knew how I felt about her, but you killed her anyway!"

  "That bullet was meant for you."

  "No, it wasn't.” But even as the words fell through his lips, everything started to make perfect sense to him.

  Cain regained composure long enough to flash a blood-stained grin. “You're too clever aren't you, bro?"

  "You heartless bastard. I loved her!"

  Miller cleared his throat and spoke. “Tell me what he's saying isn't true, Cain! I paid you good money to injure Matt long enough to bring him here for the necessary proceedings."

  "You took his weapon and money, made him believe that you had agreed to shoot me when all along it was Alana you were really aiming for!” Matt's head spun at the realization. Just how deep and twisted was his friend's betrayal?

  Cain laughed. “She was just another chick, but you refused to treat her like a piece of ass! Alana was just gonna get in the way. I didn't need some broad taking you away from me, bro. That power you're so unhappy with would be perfect for me and, one way or another, I wanted to harness it."

  "You're nuts."

  "No one deceives me like this and lives to tell the story,” Miller yelled.

  The sharpness of the old man's voice caught Matt's attention.

  Miller closed his black eyes. He made a sweeping motion with his left hand as his lips mumbled some sort of chant.

  Cain'
s feet left the floor, and he flew backward.

  His body traveled in midair. Almost in slow motion so that Matt could see every separate bone-breaking impact of Cain's spine as it crunched against the unforgiving stone.

  He slid to the floor, eyes closed and blood trickling from his mouth as well as his nose.

  It only took a few seconds for his spirit to float out of his body and join the others around Miller.

  Cain was dead.

  There was nothing Matt could do for him now. And although he hated him for what he'd done to Alana, and whatever crazy stunt he planned to do to him, there was still a part of him that mourned the loss of his close friend. How could they have practically lived together for so many years, stayed in one motel room after another, and not truly known each other?

  Cain had saved his life so many times. It just didn't make any sense.

  It was a sad fact, and one that made him realize that the only person he'd ever truly known his whole life was Alana. She was the only one he trusted enough to confess his ability to, and the reason that he ran away from his mother's house at such a young age.

  He looked over his shoulder.

  Alana stood with the aura of white around her. She looked like an angel. The thought of her ascending to one eventually made him happy. Overwhelmed with the love he felt so deeply for her. Even if he weren't ready to give her up.

  Matt took a step back toward her.

  "Where do you think you're going?” Miller wrapped his thin fingers around Matt's wrist and forced him to stop. “I'm not letting you get away from me this time."

  "What, you want my stupid gift, too?” He couldn't help but feel like an idiot. All these years he'd tried to forget and hide what he was born to do, only to have others plot behind his back to claim it.

  It was all too ironic, and pathetic.

  Miller frowned. “Why would I want such a pesky thing attached to me? God knows enough people have died at my hand to make the ability to see the dead a horrendous sentence."

  "Matt."

  He looked back, thought it was Alana who'd called him, but she shook her head in response.

  Matt turned back to the now-crazed Miller. His pale face had darkened, and dark circles were shadowed beneath his eyes.

  "Then, what do you want with me?"

  "The same thing I've always wanted with all those damn mediums I tracked down—your soul!"

  "My soul? Why would you want my soul?"

  "Matt, get out of here now!” the voice said. It sounded very familiar, definitely female, but he couldn't place it.

  Miller's grip on his wrist burned his skin.

  "The soul of a medium is the only one I need to complete the Circle of Souls."

  "I don't know what you're talking about."

  "The circle of six includes the souls of a witch, necromancer, psychic, warlock, lycanthrope, and medium. These are the strongest powers harnessed by human supernaturals,” Miller answered with a small smile on his wrinkled lips.

  "And what will you do with that, rule the world?"

  "Ah, if it's the human world you're referring to, no. Why would I want to rule these pathetic untalented beings? No, I'm interested in the other worlds, the ones that hold the real potential. With your soul, the circle would be complete, and I can go anywhere I please.” Miller tightened his grip. The air around him buzzed, like heat seen from a distance on a scorching summer day.

  The oxygen was getting hard to inhale through his nose.

  "Matt honey, don't let him kill you like he did me!"

  "Mum?"

  The older man laughed. “Oh, Martina is here too, is she? I thought she would've been long gone."

  "What did you do to her?"

  "She was supposed to be my medium about three years ago, but something happened and she died before I had the chance to complete the process.” He shrugged, as if having caused someone's death was just a pesky consequence to him.

  "You killed my mother?"

  "What does it matter to you anyway? You didn't care about her, did you? You left her, right?"

  "Now, I'm back on track.” Matt clenched his teeth together as he tried to fight the heat that scorched along his arm.

  "No, stop!” Alana yelled.

  Miller looked up. “Oh, that's quite fascinating. How did you do that, young lady? You're dead. But you're a ghost who can make herself be seen at will? That's extraordinary. Maybe I'll have to collect your soul, too, afterward."

  "I don't think so,” another voice joined the scene.

  Matt couldn't believe it. Miller could actually see Alana. Come to think of it, for some reason, she appeared more solid than she had before. What was going on here? Everything about this Halloween night was shaping up to be insane!

  Cain's betrayal and plans, Alana's warnings, his mother's presence, and now this crazy sorcerer ... that's what Alana called him, right?

  "Who said that?” Miller asked. The quivery edges around his body now swayed faster, as if he weren't real but just a mirage.

  "That would be me!"

  Matt turned in time to catch the thing that answered. His mind struggled to perceive it for whatever it really was. There were several human qualities like arms and hands, maybe even a torso and legs beneath the long robe it wore. But the red eyes pierced outward, beneath the large hood over the head. He thought it was probably a good thing. Whatever was concealed in that scarlet outfit was making his skin crawl.

  "Don't worry, it's not here for you,” Alana whispered. She was behind him again, like a constant shadow.

  "What are you, and what do you want? I didn't summon anything tonight! Get back to where you came from!” Miller called. His hand slipped from Matt's wrist as he turned to face the creature that towered over him.

  Alana wrapped her hand around Matt's and encouraged him to take several steps back.

  "I'm afraid it's not going to be so easy this time, Samson Jeremiah Miller."

  "How did you know my full name?"

  "With that many ripe souls wrapped around you, someone was sure to know,” the creature answered.

  "What are you?” The fear shook Miller's voice.

  "I have many names, most of which I refuse to speak publicly. Most refer to me as the Soul Dealer, and I have come to collect."

  "No, you can't have any of them, they're all mine."

  "Now, now, that's not fair is it? Trying to keep so many strapped to yourself. What do you think will happen to them when you die? I mean, either way your death was bound to be violent, and that just happens to be what I specialize in,” the Soul Dealer spoke in a clear and creepy voice.

  Miller started another chant in a language Matt couldn't understand.

  "None of those will work on me. Now, say goodbye to your souls, including your own!"

  Miller's screams ignited instantly as the Soul Dealer grabbed him by the shoulders with its skeletal gray hands. The hood remained over its head as the wispy souls around Samson Miller began to swirl toward the creature. A multitude of them disappeared into the hood.

  Matt felt a hand on his shoulder and turned in time to catch a glimpse of the blonde-haired woman he'd left so many years ago. She looked older, but hadn't changed much.

  She offered him a small smile as her hand dropped away.

  "Mum."

  "All I wanted was to keep you safe. Now, I can finally go in peace.” She followed the other souls and disappeared into the dark abyss of the Soul Dealer's hood.

  He felt the sense of loss wash through him again, but Alana's hand in his kept him centered.

  When all the misty souls had disappeared, the creature sucked in Miller's entire frame. Like something out of a horror film, he was sucked into all that blackness from head to toe.

  The oxygen around them thinned as the Soul Dealer took a few steps toward them.

  Alana stood in front of Matt, trying to shield him. “You can't have him. That wasn't part of the deal."

  "Alana, I'm not going to touch him or you. I just wan
ted to congratulate you on beating me at my own game. Although, with the amount of souls you pointed my way, I can hardly say I'm not a winner, too.” The Soul Dealer patted his swollen, rounded stomach.

  "What will happen to those souls?” Matt asked. His mother had gone in there, as well as Cain.

  "Don't worry, I don't keep them all. Just the ones that want to play against me get to stay. Most of these have predestined places to move on to. Samson was just holding them back. Although that wasn't the case with your mother—you were the one holding her back, Matt."

  "Gracias," Alana whispered.

  "Oh no, thank you. And enjoy your second chance, but remember that there are no more after this one.” The Soul Dealer took two steps back and disappeared completely.

  "What did he mean by second chance?” Matt turned his full focus toward her as the burning on his arm started to fade.

  Alana offered him a huge smile before she threw her arms around his neck.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Epilogue

  "Well, how do you feel now that we know for sure?"

  Matt pressed the back of his head against the headrest of the car he knew they'd soon have to trade in, especially now that their circumstances were about to change.

  As if to find out that the woman he thought had died twelve months ago was now alive again wasn't shock enough. This was unbelievable.

  "Well, are you happy or sad, even angry?"

  He sighed, didn't want to meet her eyes just yet. If she read the disbelief, she might assume the opposite to what he really felt. “Well, firstly, I'm totally shocked. Blown away by how this could've happened, but I'm definitely very happy."

  "Oh, thank god. I thought you were having doubts for a second there,” Alana said with a long sigh of relief.

  "No, I'm excited about this and about you.” Matt took her hand in his and kissed it lightly. “To have you back is like some sort of miracle, Alana."

  "No, that was just me making a deal. But this, this is a miracle.” Alana guided his hands to her lower abdomen. “We're having a baby, Matt! Can you believe it?"

  "No, to be honest with you, I can't believe it. But I'm going to accept and run with it. Run with you, wherever you want to go. Which reminds me, where are we off to anyway? I'm so stunned I've lost every sense of direction,” he said as he looked out the windscreen in front of him. The sun was low in the sky and penetrated the glass so deeply he could see every single scratch etched into it.