The Soul of the Sun (The Argos Dynasty)

by Genevieve Crownson

  25

  The Watcher, July 1939

  I focused my mind back on the present. There was no time to waste.

  I scanned the beach. It would be most convenient to steal another body right away.

  As if on cue, a stringy blonde-haired hobo strolled by, desolate and soaked to the skin. I saw a perfect opportunity. His soul was heavy with foreboding and lost hope; he was vulnerable and mine for the taking. He was beyond despair, apparently his friend had recently been killed by the railroad bull. These were brutal guards hired by the railroads to catch hobos, and to ensure trains only carried paying customers.

  Oh how I loved sorrow.

  Carefully, I pulled at the strings of his mind. In an instant I knew his story backwards and forwards. He was eighteen years old. It was the Depression. There was no work. He felt he’d been a burden to his mother. He went out into the world with his best friend, hoping to send money back to the family. This boy had only three things with him in his bindle stiff. A picture of his mother, a small book of matches and a tin of cigarettes that he had bought and added to his delinquent account back home. He’d purchased those cigarettes a year ago and the fool kid had yet to smoke one of them. He told himself it was just a reminder of that day. To remember he had abundant courage. Stupid twit. The human spirit was a bit dim-witted but I found it was most handy for manipulation.

  I grinned in delight. It was all too easy.

  The boy never knew what hit him; I pulled lightning from the sky, harnessing its powers to encase him in a great ball of fire. In a low voice I began to chant, I watched as his eyes grew large in horror as I forced my way into his now open third eye. It was easier at midnight, but a thunderstorm really was second best. The sheer power of it weakened the barrier between good and evil.

  I slid into his body. Once I became accustomed to my new accommodations I raced back and did a quick tidy up of where Thomas had been. There could be no trail to the ocean. I just wanted Thomas to disappear. The rain had done most of the work; I covered up what was left of the bloody trail, leaving only the patch of red where Thomas had lain and I headed to the docks.

  I had no trouble stealing a boat; humans didn’t like the rain. It was rather imbecilic of them. I went out into the ocean but with the high swells and the storm Thomas’s body was long gone. I felt a burning in my stomach. I was usually very successful in full body retrieval. I liked to bring them back to the boúrda. He would be missing from my collection. I sighed. I couldn’t dwell on it.

  I turned the boat around and headed back. There was work to be done.

  I was officially through with Mr. Thomas Mayfield. My new identity was that of a hobo, a man with no name.

  I was the Watcher.

  PART II

  EMMA DIAMOND

  26

  Emma, October 2005

  I wanted him there. I wanted to feel his soft hands caressing my face, I wanted to choose all the moments I had felt his love and place them all together into this one special moment; the morning of my twenty-first birthday.

  I desired Jonathan with a burning passion. He lit a fire inside me that I just couldn’t explain, yet my answer still had been no. I’d asked myself a million times why I still loved him when I’d caught him with someone else. What was worse is that he’d asked me to marry him before I caught him and Stacy together. A girl I’d known from my cell biology class. Did he think he could have me and a girl on the side? It made me furious just thinking about it. Did he think I wouldn’t find out? We went to the same college, even shared a few classes. That is how we met. He was majoring in microbiology. Jonathan was my only friend, and I felt rather lonely, today of all days.

  I thought back on past birthdays, I’d had a few friends, but none of them stuck. All I’d wanted to do was play doctor, pretend to heal people. They’d get bored and go play with Malibu Barbie or whatever it was at the time. Granna was my only constant. She understood what drove me, what I felt inside. I never wanted another child to lose her parents. To have one birthday without their Mother. Maybe if I became a doctor, more lives could be saved.

  As I lay in bed, I fingered the locket that Granna had given me; feeling the smooth surface against my skin. I knew how much Great Aunt Abby had meant to her, and to me that made the gesture beyond special. Yet Granna had acted strangely when she gave it to me, and I wondered why. Deciding not to dwell on it, I rose and slipped into my robe. I wiggled my feet into the fuzzy blue slippers by the bed and gave my hair a quick brush. The aroma of cinnamon French toast, my favorite breakfast, wafted through the room. Mmmm, it smelled divine. Still, even the thought of food couldn’t shake me from the dream I’d had the night before. It had all been so real.

  It was as if I had been a ghost, crying out to all those I loved. I was myself, at least I felt I was there, yet I’d been someone else too. Such silliness. Granna’s craziness was rubbing off on me. Next thing you know, I’d be going over the Tarot cards. I shuddered and hoped that wasn’t the case.

  “Emma!” I can hear you rustling about up there, these old wood floors don’t lie! Come on down to breakfast.”

  “One minute Granna!” I fumbled with the zip of my favorite faded blue jeans, and slid my arms into my white blouse. I glanced in the mirror; the shirt was perfect to show off my locket. I gave myself a final once over and ran a comb through my long wavy locks one more time. My blonde hair was my best asset, but I could do without the skinny body and the jade eyes that were puffy from restless dreams. I knew Granna would notice the bags under my eyes anyway, so there was no point trying to hide them. I went downstairs.

  Granna was flipping the thick hot bread in the pan and I took a seat at the table and started to fiddle with the container of syrup. She turned and smiled.

  “Happy Birthday, Diamond.” She put the spatula down and came over and gave me a big hug, then backed up, eyeing me critically. “You look tired. Important dreams can be draining. Luckily it’s nothing that a little French toast can’t fix.” She crossed back to the stove and removed a plate that had been in the warming oven. “Here we are then. Breakfast for the birthday girl.”

  “Smells divine Granna, why don’t you sit with me?” I patted the cushion next to me.

  “In a minute, love, let me just get these last two out of the pan. I don’t want them to burn.” She deftly slid the spatula under the toast and placed it on the warm plate. I watched her as she worked.

  Granna was what you might call a sensitive. She seemed to know things, more than most people. She understood things that others found baffling. She had been like a mother to me. My own parents had died in a car accident, one I’d survived. It was a guilt I hadn’t been able to erase. But Granna and Granddaddy had been there for me. They had been the ones who’d raised and taken care of me.

  “Granna what do…” My words were cut off by the chime of the front door.

  “I’m coming! Hold on!” I yelled. I rose quickly and went to open it. It was Jonathan. He was looking exceptionally cute, wearing jeans and a blue cashmere sweater that brought out the silver in his eyes. Clever, he knew that was my favorite.

  Damn him.

  His auburn hair was tousled and running amuck from the rain. I yearned to tuck the loose ear length strands behind his ear; but I resisted the temptation.

  “Hi Emma,” he grinned, “Can I come in? Please, this won’t take a minute. Besides, it’s raining...” He gave me the hopeful look of a pound puppy searching for a home.

  I scowled at him as I contemplated my next move.

  Granna came up behind me and decided for me. “Emma Diamond! Bring that poor boy in from the rain!”

  I sighed and opened the door wider to let him pass.

  “Wait in the living room Jonathan, I’ll be there in a minute to bring you a towel,” Granna said.

  “Thanks Mrs. Ingall.” He gave me a quick smirk as he passed.

  As soon as he was out of earshot, Granna turned to me. “Why on earth are you treating that poor boy that way? Your
aura is red hot, child. There’s a lot more to this than you’re telling me isn’t there?”

  I hated it when she told me the color of my aura; it gave me the creeps. I wasn’t into all that stuff like Granna was, and I think it disappointed her. I had zero intuition; I liked facts. That is probably why I was majoring in biology at the College of Charleston so I could become a doctor. The facts of life and all that. Granna always said I was smart enough to be a physician; it came from the Greek blood flowing through my veins. I was determined that it be so. Either way, at that moment my aura could be any color it wanted. Jonathan was making my Greek blood boil.

  Peeved, I tried to explain myself. “Jonathan wasn’t such a nice guy last time we spoke. And you know what he did.” I replied tersely. “Besides, I don’t think a little time in the rain ever harmed anybody.”

  “It’s not like you to be vindictive Emma; you’re such a kind soul.” She eyed me quizzically. I winced under her gaze. I knew she was right.

  She patted my shoulder. “I’ll get a towel; try not to bite the head off our guest.”

  “Ha, ha,” I said. I joked outwardly, but inside her words burned. The truth hurt. One of the reasons I had said no to Jonathan’s proposal of marriage was because I didn’t like who I became when I was with him. We were cruel and spiteful with one another in ways that I hadn’t known either of us were capable of. But I just couldn’t seem to help it. There was an inner need to protect myself whenever I thought he’d treated me badly. I didn’t like that side of my personality.

  I took a deep breath and headed for the living room. He was standing by the fireplace rubbing his hands together in front of the roaring fire. There was a cold October rain outside, unusual for coastal South Carolina.

  “Granna will be right back with a towel,” I said crisply. Wow, that was really lame even for me.

  Jonathan turned at the sound of my voice.

  “Emma.” He covered the room in three long strides to reach me. “I’m sorry to barge in on you like this,” he blurted, “but I needed to talk. I wanted to tell you how much I regret that I offended you.” He gave me a sheepish grin. “Am I forgiven? I’m sorry that I hurt your feelings.”

  “Forgiven? Your response to me after saying I couldn’t marry you was to say I was ‘a moody bitch’. Don’t you think you should at least be a little bit more than sorry for that? And what about Stacy? Any regrets?”

  Just hearing myself put a fresh wound in my heart. I swallowed a lump the size of an ostrich egg and continued, “I expected an apology a little sooner. Somebody who really loved me wouldn’t treat me so horribly. And why am I so moody? Is it because I won’t do as you demand?”

  Jonathan turned away, refusing to meet my eyes. “What kind of marriage would we have, Jonathan? Damn you!” In spite of myself, I sat down on the sofa, put my hands over my eyes and wept.

  I felt him sit down next to me but I didn’t raise my head.

  “I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry for everything. I’m sorry that I asked you to marry me, I’m sorry I called you a bitch, I’m sorry I am a no-good human being. Okay? What do you want from me, Emma? You played a part in this too you know. Maybe I wouldn’t have had to turn to Stacy if you hadn’t been so obsessed with studying, getting A’s all the time.”

  I looked up at him, his face a blur through the tears. I clasped my locket in my hand, it was an odd comfort.

  “I wanted your heart, Jonathan. Real love, not I’ll-love you-if-you-do-as-I-say. I don’t need a list of all the reasons why you’re sorry and a no-good human being. You knew when you met me how important being a doctor was to me. Just last Christmas you got me a stethoscope, remember? What happened to that man?”

  “Emma…please.” He took my free hand. And just like that, the world disappeared in a puff of smoke. I felt my entire body shake as images flashed before my eyes. I was falling, falling so far down…A man, a man with green, angry eyes stood before me. I knew this man, I knew him well. I loved him. Yet he was killing me…

  “Emma? What’s going on? What’s the matter?” Jonathan’s voice sounded far away. I felt myself return to consciousness with a jolt.

  “Stop yelling Jonathan, I’m okay,” I said unsteadily. “I don’t know what happened…I just got really lightheaded and there were images, like I was in a crazy dream or something. I probably just need something to eat.”

  “Images? What are you talking about, Diamond? You’re not making any sense.” I knew I was making him nervous; he only called me Diamond when he was in one of his rare touchy-feely moods. But I couldn’t help it. I was even freaking myself out. Was I losing my grip on reality? What was happening?

  Just then Granna breezed into the room. Her bright red tunic flowed around her, and her red lips were pursed with worry. “What happened here Jonathan? Emma?” She turned to face both of us.

  “It’s nothing Granna; I just got a little lightheaded for a minute that’s all.”

  “She said something about images, and she was acting strange,” Jonathan blabbed.

  I shot him a look, annoyed that he was such a tattletale. I didn’t like upsetting Granna.

  “Images? Ah…I don’t remember saying that,” I said.

  Granna turned her gaze from Jonathan to me.

  “Emma Diamond, what did you see? What pictures?”

  “Nothing, it was nothing,” I said, eager to change the subject.

  “Really I’m fine, why don’t you come sit?” I said, patting the sofa cushion.

  “No. No I can’t,” Granna replied, flustered.

  “Why not?” I asked.

  Granna gave Jonathan a stern look, then said, “Jonathan, you’d better go, I need to talk to Emma alone.”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “Okay. I’ll call you later Emma.”

  “No need,” I called after him as he disappeared out the door.

  “Jerk, I’m glad he’s gone,” I muttered angrily.

  “Emma,” Granna’s voice interrupted my Jonathan bashing.

  “Emma listen to me, there is no point in lying to me. I know you saw something; you have to tell me.”

  I squirmed uncomfortably. I never really believed Granna’s story about being able to read thoughts; it just seemed too far-fetched. But she always knew when I was lying. Surely that was just a grandmother’s intuition.

  “It wasn’t anything really, just a flash. I didn’t see much. It was just a bad dream where I was falling. I don’t want to talk about it anymore, Granna. Come on, the French toast is going to be cold.” I rose from the sofa.

  I ignored Granna’s pursed lips and on shaky legs headed back to the kitchen. This turning twenty-one gig was not all it was cracked up to be. Whatever had happened back there had scared the life out of me. I sat at the table and opened my cell biology book. I needed to study for an exam. Too bad it was Saturday; I could have made an excuse to leave the house. Oh well, there was nothing like the good old cytoplasm and nucleus to bring you back down to earth. I didn’t need Jonathan or friends. It would all be worth it, maybe one day they would understand that being a doctor was as important as the air I breathed.

  My gaze wandered to the window. Outside the rain pounded away at the glass; the last thing on my mind was science. I closed the book and sighed. It was no use.

  It was official, I was a freak.

  27

  Emma, December 2005

  I sat at the writing desk that loomed large against the rose patterned wall. I had been mulling over a million questions, with no clear answers. My eyes fell to the drawer on the right of the desk. A strange urge prompted me to open it. I looked inside. No surprises there, the usual odds and ends—pens, pencils, erasers, a small notepad. An inner sense of curiosity made me look more carefully. I ran my fingers around the back inside lining, not even sure what I was looking for. My hand rubbed against something. I paused, moving my fingers deeper into the cramped space. I felt a tiny knob at the back. I pressed it, something shifted and I was able to remove the back panel. Behind it
was a small compartment about six inches square. I felt my excitement rise in my chest. All the years we’d had this desk and I had no idea it had a secret cubby hole. I leaned down and peered in. Just beyond the secret opening, a paper yellowed with age and ragged around the edges revealed itself. I gently fished out the contents, careful not to tear it. My hands trembled with anticipation as I opened the folded letter. I knew that this is what I had been looking for, and that something incredible was written inside.

  I woke with a start, sweating despite the cold room.

  It was Granna’s desk in my dream, her writing desk that she’d had forever, still in the same spot it had always been, in the tower room of our ancient beach house.

  I shook off the cobwebs and headed toward the bathroom. A hot shower would clear my head. I let the warm water cascade over my body. Thinking how silly I was to think Granna actually had a secret compartment in her desk. It must have been the fiery hot salsa I had eaten the night before at that Mexican restaurant. But still… My mind drifted back to the dream.

  A hidden drawer, I pondered the thought.

  Yeah, I really needed a life. There was no way I would even check it out.

  No way.

  I shut off the water, grabbed a towel off the rack and dried myself. I hastily pulled on my sweatshirt and jeans, and headed for the door. Well, as they say, curiosity killed the cat.

  Like I said, it was probably nothing.

  28

  Margaret, Folly Beach, September 1939

  It was almost time for me to head upstate to Grandma’s, to help her recuperate from the “fall” as Mama liked to say. My bags were packed. I was wearing a loose fitting red cotton dress to cover the tiny bump that protruded from my belly.

  Ian had called the night before. I knew what he wanted. I didn’t take the call. I made Mama give him every excuse under the sun as to the reasons why I couldn’t come to the phone. I’m pretty sure he didn’t believe her. Mama was a rotten liar, and when the phone rang again, I told her not to answer at all.