“I hope this is okay.” Mrs. Marlow flips on the light and throws open the curtains. “It’s not very big, but you can always move the extra dresser out into the garage if you think you need more room.”
I set my duffel bag on the bed and force a smile. “It’s fine. I promise.”
She smiles as if my approval just made her day. “Good. I’m glad you like it. I was worried maybe all the pillows were a bit too much.”
"They're fine," I tell her, unsure how I feel about any of this, mainly because I can't feel a damn thing. "I just appreciate you letting me stay here."
Her smile magnifies. “How about we go get your stuff moved in and then I’ll get dinner started? Do you have a preference as to what you’d like to eat? I can make steak, hamburgers, pancakes. Anything but fish. Willa hates it when I cook seafood.”
“Because it stinks up the house.” Willa appears in the doorway, carrying one of my boxes. She looks from her mom to me. “Where do you want me to put your shi—”
“Willa!” her mom exclaims, her eyes wide in horror.
“Stuff,” Willa continues without missing a beat. “Jeez, Mom. Way to overreact.”
Mrs. Marlow puts her hands on her hips. “I thought you were going to work on your language.”
“I am,” Willa insists. “I technically didn’t finish the word, did I?”
“Don’t try to get out of this on a technicality.” Her mom scolds. But she doesn’t sound pissed. If anything, she appears amused. “You really need to work on your word choices. Try to add some prettier words to your vocabulary instead of using all those ugly words.”
Willa elevates her brows. “Prettier words?”
Mrs. Marlow bobs her head up and down. “Yeah, you know like lovely and wonderful and amazing and beautiful—words that will make others feel great.”
Willa stares blankly at her mom before turning to me with an exaggerated smile on her face. “Gaige, where would you like me to put your lovely, wonderful, amazingly beautiful stuff?” She glances at her mom. “Is that better?”
I wonder how Mrs. Marlow is going to react. If I smarted off to my aunt like that, I’d be chewed out and sent up to my room where she, in her words “wouldn’t have to look at me.”
But Mrs. Marlow smiles and pats Willa’s shoulder. “Yep, it sure was. Thanks, hon.” She turns toward me and smiles. “So what would you like for dinner?”
I shrug. “Anything’s fine.”
“Just tell me what your favorite thing to eat is,” she says. “And I’ll cook it.”
“You really don’t have to do that,” I insist. Jeez. This woman is relentless. “I promise whatever you cook, I’ll eat.”
“I know I don’t need to do that,” she replies. “But I want to.”
“I really don’t care,” I try again. “Anything sounds good at the moment.”
“You have to have a favorite food, though. Everyone does… If you could eat anything right now, what would it be.” She stares at me expectantly.
“Just tell her something,” Willa mutters under her breath. “Or else we’ll be here until breakfast.”
“Um…” I scratch the back of my neck. “Burgers sound good.”
“Burgers it is then.” Mrs. Marlow claps her hands together. “I’ll go get some hamburger meat out of the freezer.”
When Mrs. Marlow exits the room, Willa mumbles, “She’s so crazy sometimes.”
I think of my own mom and how I used to think she was crazy sometimes, but in a good way. “But a nice crazy.”
She doesn’t smile. Doesn’t even blink. “So, where do you want me to put your stuff?” Her cold tone makes my smile fade.
I shrug. “Wherever.”
She sets the box down on the floor near the doorway then turns to walk out of the room, but then pauses. “Hey Gaige?” she says without turning around. “Back at your aunt’s house, right before we left… You were looking at me… Did you… You know what. Never mind.” She walks away without saying another word.
But I already think I know what she wanted to ask. If I felt that strange trance when we made eye contact. Of course I did. Because I was the one who caused it. Not on purpose. In fact, it wasn’t me that did it, but the monster. I don’t know why he gained control over my body in broad daylight. It’s never happened before. But I’ve also never been under the pressure of carrying out a Soulless Keeper’s order.
The terrifying thing is, the monster seems to like Willa. Too much. If the lightning hadn’t boomed and shattered the trance moment, I worry he might have gone after her. And I’m not talking in a violent way.
Lust. That’s what he felt when he looked at her.
So my monster has a thing for Willa… That’s sort of unexpected. Well, I guess.
The truth is, Willa isn’t that bad looking. She just dresses weird and doesn’t try when it comes to her appearance. But under the grunge look, with her big eyes and full lips, I imagine she could be very sexy…
I shake my head. Would you stop doing that! I scream to the monster. You’re not even supposed to be taking over right now.
He only cackles with laughter.
And how can she even see you? I wonder. Humans aren’t supposed to.
The laughter that follows is annoying as fuck.
I leave the room, frustrated, and go out to get the rest of my stuff.
We spend the next thirty minutes bringing in my boxes. I don’t have a lot of stuff, but Mrs. Marlow tells me I can put some of my things in the garage if I need to.
After the boxes are all taken care of, we eat grilled hamburgers and then Mrs. Marlow gives me a tour of the house. It isn’t very big and has a lot of clutter, but definitely feels more like a home than my Aunt’s house ever did.
When she shows me Willa’s room—against Willa’s protest—I can’t help but smile. Her room is one of the most badass rooms I’ve ever seen.
Three of the walls are purple while the fourth is decorated with a black and white spiral pattern. Cut out stars and a red crystal chandelier hang from the ceiling, old records and books cover the mismatched shelves, and an oval mirror is propped up against the doorjamb of the closet. Trimming the mirror is a black frame engraved with strange symbols that I've never seen before, but feels vaguely familiar.
The monster starts to perk up as if sensing the familiarity too.
“It’s pretty neat, isn’t it?” Mrs. Marlow says as I eye the mirror.
I nod, tearing my focus off the mirror and looking at Willa, lingering in the doorway. “It’s pretty fu… freakin’ awesome.”
Willa’s lips quirk as I almost drop the f-bomb in front of her mom. Thankfully, Mrs. Marlow doesn’t seem to notice. Or feels sorry for me and gives me a free pass.
“Willa and Brecken spent weeks decorating and painting everything. They did such a good job,” Mrs. Marlow tells me. “Did you know Brecken? He used to go to your school until…” She casts a worried glance in Willa's direction.
My chest tightens with something along the lines of guilt, I think anyway, as Willa’s eyes begin to water.
She hastily sucks the tears back, and her face drains of all emotion. “I have a ton of homework to do, Mom, so if this whole tour guide shindig is over,” she points over her shoulder at the doorway, signaling for us to get our asses out.
Her mom sighs and then gives Willa a hug. “I have to run to the shelter really quick and make sure everything’s ready for tomorrow. But I’ll stop and pick up some ice cream on my way back. How does that sound?”
Willa pats her mom’s back while staring off into space. “Sounds good, Mom.”
“I’ll pick up some cookie dough and Oreo cookie.”
“Okay.”
Mrs. Marlow frowns at Willa's emotionless response as if she hoped her offer of sugar would cheer Willa up from the mention of her dead best friend. I remember right after my parents died, a lot of people brought over homemade dinners and desserts to my aunt's house. They offered their plates and platters full of food and p
romised that things would get better. Within days, I ate most of the food, but years later, I'm still waiting for things to get better.
But they never will.
And it’s your own damn fault.
When Mrs. Marlow and I leave her room, Willa immediately shuts the door.
"She's been having a hard time since her friend died," Mrs. Marlow explains as we wander into the living room. "They were so close. Practically joined at the hip. I'm really worried about her. She's never been good at making friends. Her father was that way too. I sometimes wonder what she's like at school. If she ever talked to anyone besides Brecken." She looks at me as if expecting me to tell her.
"I'm not really sure," I lie. "We don't have a lot of classes together, and I don't really see her around school much."
“Oh.” She frowns. “Willa made it seem like you guys knew each other.”
I don’t know how to respond. What exactly did Willa tell her about me? I doubt anything bad, or else I probably wouldn’t be standing here. But why would she lie for me?
“I’m sorry. This is probably making you uncomfortable,” Mrs. Marlow says. “What’s your favorite ice cream? I’ll pick some up for you. How does that sound?”
I consider telling her that she doesn’t need to buy me ice cream, but after what happened with the whole what-do-you-want-with dinner thing, I decide not to argue. I tell her I like cookie dough, mostly because I know she’s already picking up that flavor for Willa and she won’t have to get an extra carton.
After she leaves the house, I go to the guestroom and begin unpacking while trying not to think about that mirror in Willa’s room. But it’s all I think about.
What did those symbols on the frame mean? And why do I feel like I’ve seen it before?
Maybe you should go in there and find out? The monster whispers. And while you’re in there, you can let me talk to her.
And then what? I ask. Hope she just tells you where the sword is. Besides, since when did you start liking human girls?
Human? Is all the monster says.
What do you mean? I ask, but get no response. Do you know what the mirror is? Better yet, do you know what the sword is that the Soulless Keeper wants us to get?
I grit my teeth. My evil, split personality is starting to get on my nerves.
I continue to toss my clothes into the dresser, getting more and more pissed off, until “A Simple Man” by Lynyrd Skynyrd floats through the wall separating the guestroom with Willa’s bedroom. And just like that, I find myself calmer than I have in a long time as a memory of my parents overwhelms me.
My parents used to crank up the tune when we were taking a road trip, and they'd reminisce about the good old days where cell phones and computers didn't rule the world. "Simpler times," my dad used to call them.
Listening to them talk about their life as kids made me wish I'd grown up in a different era. I mentioned that to my friends once that I dreamt of living in a different era where the world was slower, calmer, less busy where everyone wasn't—couldn't—be in each other's business so much.
My friends looked at me like I’d just announced I wanted to live in a sewer.
“Gross, Gaige. Living in the 70s would be so awful,” Lucy, a girl I was dating at the time, said. “No cellphones. No computers. No Internet. So boring.”
A couple of people laughed.
“Gaige is a pretty boring guy, Luce. You should know that by now,” my friend Gabe joked. Then he winked at Lucy. “When you’re ready to have some fun sweetheart, ditch this loser and come find me. I promise I’ll be way, way better.”
Lucy giggled and Gabe grinned.
Humiliation burned underneath my skin.
Yeah, I knew he was only joking. My friends said that kind of crap all the time to each other, but my aunt had spent the entire morning calling me a loser. Loser, loser, loser, was all I ever heard.
But I bit my tongue, laughed it off, and called him a loser back.
I never mentioned my secret wishes of simpler times to anyone after that and convinced myself that life was easier that way. Because if people don’t know the real me, then they can’t really hurt me.
And I bottled it all up until the day I met Evelyn. She unleashed everything I worked so hard to keep hidden when she broke my heart. After that, I couldn’t keep my emotions in check. I was a wreck until I met the Soulless Keeper. And then, after, I had nothing left to bottle up.
Even when I saw Evelyn again, dating Porter, the guy who helped her destroy me, I felt nothing but emptiness. And that right there is why I need the monster. Because he makes the difficult parts of life easier to bear. He makes missing my parents easier. He makes being unwanted bearable.
So let me take this thing over with Willa, he whispers. Let me get close to her and get the sword for you.
I stare at the wall the music is flowing through. Could I do that? Just let him deal with this? Just let him have Willa? Just let him walk around in broad daylight?
You let me take over at night. The monster whispers. What’s the difference?
The difference is you might kill her. I continue to fold up my clothes. And I don’t let you take over at night. I lose control.
Yeah, so. At least this way, I’ll be the one to kill her.
I swallow hard at the reminder that I’ll have to kill Willa eventually.
Is that nervousness I detect? The monster asks with disdain.
“No. I don’t get nervous,” I say aloud.
But if that’s the truth, then why do I feel edgy about the monster taking over tonight?
I shake my head. No, I can’t let you take over.
As if overhearing the conversation, a card drifts from the ceiling and lands on the bed. I sigh, knowing who sent the card. And while I don’t want to pick it up, I don’t have a choice.
Your time is ticking. Find the sword no matter what it takes or else your new home won’t be as comfortable.
I toss the card onto the bed. “How does he expect me to befriend her already?”
Maybe he doesn’t expect you to befriend her, the monster says.
How else am I supposed to get her to open up to me and tell me where the sword is, then?
There are other ways to get secrets out of people?
I shake my head. “I may be soulless but I can’t do that to Willa.”
Why not?
“Because…” The truth is I have no idea why I can’t, other than I’m confused.
Confused about Willa? Who she is? Why can she see the monster inside me? Why does she do nice things for me when I’m such a jerk?
Confused.
Then let me help you, the monster purrs. Because I definitely know what I want.
Chapter 7
Willa
I hide out in my room for the rest of the day, blasting music at full volume. I don’t see or hear much from Gaige. Even when my mom makes the three of us eat ice cream together, he barely makes a peep. Definitely not the Gaige I know at the school, but the Gaige I know from school can’t shift his eyes into different colors. At least that I’ve ever noticed before. I nearly lost my damn mind and asked him about it, but then remembered this was Gaige Irvins. If he found out I might be a little cuckoo in the head, the entire school would know about it come Monday.
As I lie awake in bed late that night, thinking about what I’m going to do if I go nuts, I hear a soft thud coming from outside. Grabbing my phone off my nightstand, I get up, pad over to the window, and peer out into the night.
Then a ripple of fear shoots up my spine.
Looming out at the edge of our yard near the fence line is a tall figure. The moon and lampposts offer the right amount of light that I can make out the person is dressed head to toe in black with a hood pulled over their head.
Panicking that we’re about to get robbed, I move to call the police.
“Willa, don’t.”
My head snaps toward the window, and I come face to face with the hooded figure. Only now I can make
out enough features to tell who the person is.
“Gaige?” I gasp in shock.
He puts his fingers to his lips and smiles, his breath fogging up the glass. “Don’t utter a word about this, Willa. If you do, no one’s going to believe you.”
I want to run, scream for help, but my feet remain glued to the floor, my lips fused together by some unnatural force.
Gaige’s smile grows, his eyes flashing. “Good girl… Just like I thought.” Then he puts his palm to the window.
But instead of touching the glass, his fingers move through the window.
Again, I want to scream and run, but I’ve become a human statue, remaining completely motionless even when Gaige dips his head through the glass and leans in to kiss me.
A series of emotions current through me.
Cold.
Dark.
Pain.
Burning.
Lust.
I kiss him back, slipping my fingers through his hair.
He purrs in response. “Good girl. Give me more.”
The voice no longer sounds like Gaige's.
My eyelids shoot open, and I come face to face with the skeleton that I used to see in my imaginary land of ash.
The sight sends the scream out from my throat.
Moments later, my mom comes barreling into my room. “Willa, what’s going on?”
“I… Gaige…” I can barely catch my breath as I point a trembling finger at the window. “Gaige’s… he’s… out there.”
My mom’s brows knit. “Stay here.” Then she rushes out of my room.
I hurry and peek out the window, but the backyard is empty. Did he run off? Where to? And how the hell did he get through the window without breaking it? And why did he kiss me?
I swallow hard as one final question races through my mind: how did he turn into the skeleton?
The Curse of the Soulless Page 5
