Soul Intentions

by Michael Cantwell

For the next several weeks, the dreams continued to torment my rest. It was always the same message.

  “The doctor knows the truth.”

  I hadn't seen Kalani or my son for several months. I begged the Council for a respite in my duties and one was granted. I caught the first flight to Tahiti to visit with my family.

  The greeting at the door by my mother in law was less than warm, the one from my father in law wasn't much better. My son was still a very young child and was beginning to form words. I could now communicate with him on a different level than the last time I had seen him.

  Kalani remained the same. When I would pull her closer to my chest, I could feel the beat of her heart quicken. I wanted to believe she knew it was her husband. Still, it was very painful to feel her so close, knowing she was so far away. Later that evening, I tried to reason with my father in law.

  “Doc, the dreams continue. They grow more intense every night. I have to believe that you are the one who can help. I am starting to believe it is possible to restore Kalani’s soul, as well as others. I need you to think hard about what you may have read or overheard while you were a doctor in the compound. Please try to recall anything you can so you can help me and your daughter.”

  “Cale, don’t you think I want to help my daughter? I'm the one who has to see her day after day, a vegetable in her own skin, while you trek across the globe destroying others in your wake. Then you come to me asking for help, and to what ends? Do you really believe you're some kind of savior to the world? Or, you can rescue my daughter from the hell she's in? I'm the one, who has to look at her knowing, who she was before she was destroyed because she loved you. I have what remains of my family to think about. You have no idea how powerful the Council has become. They have spies everywhere. You don’t know what they see and don’t see. If I were to help you, not only would my life and my wife’s be in jeopardy, but so would the life of my grandson. Go do what you need to do, if you think that's your duty, but don’t ask me for any assistance.”

  “Doc, I know your life has been as a healer and not one of pain. I am well aware you think what I do is all about destruction, but were you not proud of Kalani doing her duty? You were so proud when you thought she was keeping our kind alive, but me, I am destroying the world? I am growing more convinced every day that my mission should be about one of restoration. I can’t do it without your help. You know that our kind was raised on the principles of removing souls from others who cannot see the beauty in their lives. I feel as though you are looking at me as if I was the originator of such thoughts. I know you blame me for Kalani. I am not the one who created soul stealing, including hers. However, I am starting to believe I am the one who is destined to bring back the souls for some who will want redemption and a second chance in life. Kalani loved life. She loved her family, and saw beauty all around her. She of all people deserves another chance in life. I need your help.”

  Kalani’s father lowered his chin and peered above his wire frame glasses, offering a stare of conviction. “Cale, talk of restoring a soul is nothing but lies and innuendo. Yes, I have read passages and heard the whispers about our history. If you attempt it and the Council finds out, you will be brought up on charges and your son will lose both parents. I cannot take the chance of the Council thinking I helped you. I’m sorry. Please do not bring that talk into my home again. I wish you could bring Kalani back to us, but there is no evidence it can be done.”

  “Doc, now I think you are holding back. I think you know there is a chance and are afraid to tell me what it is.”

  “You are welcome to be a guest in my home out of respect for my daughter and your son, but if you dare bring up this topic again, I will demand you leave.”

  I stayed a few more days mostly to see my son and spend time with him. I tried to communicate with Kalani, but the highlight was what I perceived as a passing smile when I told her that I loved her and missed her. During that week, the dreams continued and made it near impossible for me to sleep more than two or three hours at a time.

  When I returned home to California, there was a package at the door. The return address was labeled from a building in Kingston, Jamaica. I opened it up only to find a few cryptic notes about ancient laws and an address to a building. I had a few more days until my next assignment, so I headed off for Jamaica.

  The address in the package directed me to a small, but well maintained building along one of the main roads in Kingston. The building was home to a man, who held the title of Custos Rotulorum.

  After meeting the man, he informed me that it meant, “Keeper of the Rolls.” We had a conversation about why he sent me the package. He informed me that a stranger with an island accent called him with my address and asked that he send me the enclosed information and address to his building. He didn’t know why someone would care to have it sent, but he was paid a fee for sending it. The tall Jamaican man had no idea who I was or why I would come to his building, not did he know asked him to send it.

  I left the building totally confused and unsure why I needed to make the long journey. There was a small park across the street. I went and sat on the bench deciding if I should take the first plane ride back home or stay a few days and relax. I started to close my eyes when someone sat on the bench next to me.

  “Scuse me, Mon. I don’t mean to intrude on your peace, but I was told you were looking for me.”

  If I thought I was perplexed a few moments ago, now I was really scratching my head.

  “I didn’t know I was looking for anyone, but who might you be?"

  He politely smiled before saying, “I am Bastian Duvaliar, but people round here call me Doc.”

  I smiled back and said, “You know what, I think I am looking for you. Why do they call you Doc?”

  This time a louder chuckle came from rotund man. “Because my friend, I am the one who can find your lost spirit. Have you lost your sprit?”

  “Not a spirit, but what about thousands of souls?”

  Bastian moved closer and placed his left hand on my right knee. “I never thought this day would happen. My father told me the story and his father before him, now the day is here.”

  “I don’t understand, Doc. What story?”

  “Enough words, do not ask any more questions. In one hour, meet me at the last house down that road. Don’t’ worry about the chickens out front, they don’t bite. I will see you in one hour. Do not be late.”

  I checked into the local hotel and met Bastian at the last house on the road exactly one hour later.

  “Come in, come in. Welcome to my home. I never did ask your name.”

  “My name is Caeles Novo. But I have a strange feeling that even if you didn’t know my name, you know why I am here.”

  Bastian waved his arm to offer me a seat. He resided in a small wooden house with several windows that were now open and a paddle fan barely turning. The furniture was old, but well kept. Bastian appeared to be a man in his late seventies or early eighties. He was a dark skinned man, with signs of age across his face. He wore a short-sleeved white dress shirt, neatly pressed but not new, dark dress pants and polished black shoes. When he smiled, it seemed as wide as the island of Jamaica. As I sat, I noticed a small scent of burning incense waffling from somewhere across the room.

  “It has been a tale told for many years that one day someone would come looking for this book. It has been stored down the street where the Custos has his office. I think you were in the building earlier. You need to read this book in my presence and then I'm to return it back where it has been stored for over one hundred years. I'm responsible for its safety. This book was smuggled into England sometime in the late half of the seventeenth century. It was brought here to the Keeper of Records in 1876. It is one of a kind. My family has been anticipating someone coming to find us for several generations.

  “With all due respect, Mr. Duvaliar, all I did was to ask you if you could find lost souls. Now you invite me to your home and talk about books being
smuggled and you being the keeper, how do you know what I really want?”

  He smiled as wide as the Island of Jamaica. “You are the taker of souls, who wants to return them. Yes or no?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Then never doubt the spirits and what they tell me about you. We have a lot of work and you have much reading. Your time is short. The story also says that when the soul taker arrives, others will follow. Now read your book, and do not anger the spirits.”

  The first part of the book outlined the history of our kind. It spoke about the original one hundred, who were given the power to steal. It also outlined very carefully where to place the taken souls while offering the victims a second chance. It told the story of, the "Gatekeeper of Souls," and how and where they are stored, while remaining away from their physical human body.

  The second section talked about how, if the soul remains away from its human body for more than a few months, it becomes much harder to restore. When a soul is removed, it's stored in a crystal that looks like a snowflake. Each one is unique, but the Gatekeeper keeps a careful record to match each soul with its proper owner. If left alone for too long, the crystal can begin to disintegrate. The only way to return it back to its original form if already damaged is for the one returning the soul to lose a portion of their soul.

  In reading the pages, it led me to believe there was a safety mechanism in place for removing a soul. The stealer would gain power from the stolen soul, however if you returned the soul in a proper timeframe, you would not lose all of the power you gained when restoring it. It was as if you shared in another’s redemption.

  However, the longer you waited to restore the soul after taking it from the Gatekeeper, the more difficult the mission to restore would become. The one, who took the soul, would have the best chance at restoring the soul. However, anyone with the power of restoration could attempt it. If you waited too long to restore the soul or you were not the original thief, part of your soul would be lost upon restoration.

  As I read the pages, I felt there was a system in place, where if you removed the soul and restored in a proper timeframe, you would be rewarded. But if you waited too long, there would be a penalty. It seems there was not provision for the greed of never returning a lost soul, only a penalty for doing it slowly.

  “You don't seem so surprised by all you read, Caeles Novo. Why is that?”

  “Before enduring the evil of watching my wife’s soul being stolen, I sometimes suspected the Council would remove souls, not broken or dark, only confused. Our kind was being eliminated, because so few had the power to take and even fewer had the power to see into another’s soul. Once the Council ruled to remove Kalani’s soul and I looked upon their eyes, I could see directly into their souls. I knew at that moment, I had the same powers as them.

  "The gods have given you more than the power of sight my friend. They have given you a pure mind and the ability to reason, even against what appears to be truth. Now rest your beautiful mind. You will need it if you are to gain the powers of restoration.”

  I left Bastian’s home for my hotel room and slept for over twelve hours straight, as if someone knew I would need it.

  CHAPTER Twenty one