Soul Thing

by Lana Pecherczyk

  “Nice tatts,” I said. “What do they mean?”

  He gaped and stepped backwards, but quickly recovered his composure. “You can see them?”

  “Well, yeah. They’re like, all over your arm. You’ve picked the wrong shirt if you’re trying to hide them. They’re pretty unusual. What is it? Some sort of star map?”

  “You’ve never seen this type of marking before? Not even on your own body?” He stared at me like he wanted to see what was under my clothes.

  Half of me got a thrill from that. The other half fumed. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no, I don’t have tattoos. Was there something else you actually wanted to drink?”

  His eyes narrowed, and he gave me a tight lipped smile. He stepped away. “Fine. If that’s the way you want to play it. Can you just get two of whatever and bring it over? Tommy’s towards the back?” Without waiting for my response, he spun on his heel and left.

  A please would have been nice.

  The two brothers couldn’t be further apart in terms of personality—one so cheery, the other so serious. Tommy dressed with little regard to fashion but Cash, with his expensive, pressed clothes and black credit card, looked like he had a personal shopper. You didn’t get a card like that being a surf bum, no, you got them by running the world from an Ivory Tower. He was an enigma, and I didn’t believe for a minute his seizure was from too much sun.

  It’s none of your business, my nagging inner voice said.

  Right. I had a few cocktails to make and deliver. I eyed the mostly male and sweaty crowd on the dance floor. I didn’t look forward to fighting my way through, especially after Kitty’s act started. I picked up the discarded credit card. Cash Samson. Strange. His brother’s last name was Holloway, I was sure of it.

  Cocktails.

  I jumped. Right. I had a job to do. Jeez, my subconscious was a nag. Sometimes I felt like I had no control over my thoughts at all.

  I chose the girliest drink I could find: ‘Love Potion Number Nine’. I hummed the tune while pulling ingredients from the fridge and laying them on the counter.

  “Psst,” Kitty hissed as she poked her head through the swinging kitchen door. She wore more makeup than Courtney on her show nights, with glittering silver lids and sparkles on her cheeks. The frills of her red dress battled to get out the door.

  “So? What’s the deal with Your Godliness?” she asked, then made a face. “I mean Devilishness—wait, that’s not a word.”

  “It’s Tommy’s brother. He’s in town surfing, or something.” As if that explained everything. I couldn’t go into more detail because I was concentrating—a bit of ice here, a bit of vanilla there, add some strawberries and vodka ... and voilà, we had a lady. I sniffed the sweet perfume of my creation and added just one more shot of vodka. He needed a little social lubricant tonight. I turned the blender on and placed two martini glasses on the bar, but when I thought about the pain he’d been in earlier, I had an attack of conscience. Maybe I should spell his drink to help with his headaches. I’d done it before—a little of my activated saliva slipped into a drink and hey, presto, no more headaches.

  I turned the blender off and said to Kitty, “I’ll turn your music on before I take these down the back, okay?”

  Her eyes unfocused as she stared at the place where Cash had disappeared. “I’ll bet you he’s got rocks for abs. All that pushing and pumping on the surfboard, mmm. All those clothes, so crisp and neat.” She turned her fiery gaze on me. “Babe, he’s guaranteed dynamite in the sack. You can’t contain all that manliness without consequences. He’s like a caged tiger. Rroww.” Her manicured hand appeared through the door and made a clawing action.

  “Hopeless. You’re absolutely hopeless.” I slopped the cocktail into the glasses and sighed. “You have a one track mind my girl.”

  “Would you be a sweetie and dim the lights?” She pouted and withdrew to wait for her cue. I put the drinks on a round, metal tray then moved to the edge of the bar where the sound and light system sat. After turning a few knobs, the lights dimmed everywhere except on top of the bar. The music faded, and a hush fell over the once raucous crowd. I picked up the live microphone.

  “Ladies and Gentlemen, please give a warm welcome to the ever so delightful, Miss Kitty Muse,” I said in my best announcer voice and pressed play.

  The small crowd cheered.

  How on earth was I going to get two overflowing glasses across the room, in the dark, without touching anyone? I plopped the awaiting blocks of dry ice into the cocktails and watched as smoke curled over the rim, then waited for the distraction Kitty’s performance would provide.

  Thankfully, the punchy electric chords to No Doubt’s, I’m Just a Girl, blared, and I slipped out the second Kitty popped her pouty face through the door. She had swapped her simple black uniform for a slinky red dress that fanned out at the knees, accentuating her hourglass figure. The dress put her assets shamelessly on display, and all eyes were on her as she danced up to the counter singing and swaying until she found her waiting stool. With one foot snaking in front of the other, she lifted herself to prance across the L-shaped bar. Everyone in the front row would have had an entirely different show if her tulle petticoat didn’t conceal her undergarments.

  I stuck to the walls and made my way past the cheering patrons. I guessed the evening’s cabaret performance was a hit because everyone squished toward the front, making my job easy. I had zero collar reactions. Success in my book.

  It wasn’t hard to find the brothers in their booth, engrossed in conversation. Tommy had removed his hat and looked puffy eyed, but settled. He idly tapped his fingers in time to the music, his lids blinking in slow motion. Yep. Drunk as a skunk. Cash sat side-on in the booth, his arm casually draped over the back of the bench seat. From the aggressive lecture he was delivering, he wasn’t pleased with his brother’s state and, from the way Tommy ignored him, he didn’t care.

  “Here you go, fellas.” I placed the cocktails on coasters in front of them.

  They paused, mid-sentence and blinked at me.

  “Your drinks?” I motioned to the obvious. My pulse quickened for a second. Maybe I’d overdone it with the pink umbrellas? The show escalated behind me and the crowd whooped and applauded. I handed the credit card to Cash, who took it without a thanks. Tommy watched, silently moping. Being an asshole must be contagious.

  Part of me refused to admit defeat. It was the same part that liked to annoy rude customers. I tried for a little more conversation. “You guys are missing the show.”

  Tommy opened his mouth to speak when the music skipped to a halt and an ear-piercing scream took its place.

  “Roo!” Kitty shrieked.

  An eerie silence fell.

  The tray slipped from my fingers and crashed to the ground.

  Elbows first, I worked through the sweaty crowd blocking the bar. Blood pounded in my ears, and my breath caught in my throat. I needed to get to my friend.

  Beep.

  Beep.

  Damned collar.

  “Let me through,” I cried. “Kitty, are you—get, get out of my way!” I shoved a meaty arm aside and pushed through to find a wild-eyed Kitty crouched on the bar, red dress pooled at her ankles. She tugged her hair with one hand and with the other, pointed toward the kitchen. I followed her gaze.

  Alvin swayed in the scullery doorway. Blood spilled from his mouth. Sweat dripped from his face and his complexion had paled. He used one hand to hold himself up, and the other flew to his mouth. He convulsed like he was going to vomit.

  “You need to go outside,” he gasped between his fingers. He lurched forward and vomited blood.

  No one moved to help Alvin, except me.

  Grateful for my long legs, I hurdled the counter and closed the gap to grab his shoulders, preventing him from falling face first to the hard floor. The metallic smell of blood stung my nose, and I gagged. I took a deep, shuddering breath. “Alvin.” I surveyed his face for answers. “What happened? Are y
ou all right?”

  He tried to look at me through heavy lids. His lips sputtered, failing to form words. This was so wrong. The alarm from my collar grew louder and quicker with my continued contact.

  Beep. Beep.

  Beep. Beep.

  My friend grew heavier in my arms. I whirled around and screamed into the bickering horde, “Why are you just standing there? Call an ambulance.” My eyes darted to Kitty, and I said her name. She snapped out of her daze, nodded, then disappeared.

  Beep. Beep.

  Beep. Beep.

  Alvin’s head jerked again. He choked, fingers acting as ineffectual gates over his lips.

  “No,” I whispered as he slithered in a dead weight through my arms and fell to the floor. I rolled him to his side, in the recovery position. He convulsed, about to erupt. “Alvin, are you—oh crap, pfft.” I wrinkled my face in disgust and spat the blood he’d just sprayed on my face. It was dark red and vicious, and it tingled my tongue.

  His blood shouldn’t have felt like that.

  Deep down I knew what the tingle meant, but I didn’t want to admit it. I got the same feeling when dying Kitty’s hair. It must be a hex. Someone had hexed him. But who?

  “Outside ... please,” he moaned and hunched into a fetal position, clutching his middle, panting. “If you don’t ... she’s going to kill me ... please, go out.”

  Beep. Beep.

  Beep. Beep.

  “Who? Who’s trying to kill you?” I was desperate. I’d never seen him cry before. I wiped blood from my face to clear my vision and whipped my head around wildly, looking for a solution, anything.

  Cash emerged from the crowd like an apparition. “He’s been hexed,” he said, confirming my suspicion. But it didn’t make sense. I didn’t do it and, if I didn’t, it could mean only one thing: there was a witch in town. But they were all supposed to be dead. “The bleeding won’t stop until you do as he says.” He pried Alvin’s fingers from my arms, but I held tight. I wouldn’t let go. Cash huffed. “La Roux, it’s like a time bomb set to go off until the fail safe is triggered. Go out, if that’s what he wants. It’s probably what he’s been programmed to say.”

  Beep. Beep. Beep.

  Beep. Beep. Beep.

  Cash yanked me from my friend and pushed me away. I fell through the swinging door and landed on my ass in a puddle of vomited blood. Pain splintered from the crash site and a new spray of blood slapped the white, tiled walls.

  Fuck, that hurt.

  I clambered up and half-crawled toward the back door. I needed to get outside and save my friend.

  I burst through to darkness.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  I SHIVERED AND hugged myself despite the warm breeze tickling my skin. Waves crashed on the shore below and the sound of Nightjars calling goodnight could be heard in the distance. The tranquil atmosphere was a sharp contrast to the mayhem inside. I gathered my senses and squinted into the dark, trying to scan my surroundings.

  A few years back, a bush fire had left the vegetation on the dunes devastated. Skeletal frames of trees reached for the sky, begging for relief. When the wind moved their boughs, moonlit shadows rippled in the ghostly parking lot below. There were many cars, but no drivers—no murderers or villains and no witches. A walk through the lot turned up nothing, so I jogged back towards the kitchen entrance with a traitorous thought that perhaps Alvin was taking drugs.

  I had one foot on the porch steps when a female voice croaked behind me. “Did you like my gift, sister?”

  I spun to face the speaker, but she was cloaked in darkness.

  She broke into eerie laughter that echoed along the dunes. “The boy’s illness. I made it just for you.” Did she want me to thank her or something? “It’s a particularly nasty version of stomach cancer. You took your time coming out, so it’s another form of cancer by now, ear, nose, or throat perhaps. It’s progressing rather quickly don’t you think?”

  “Show yourself.” My steady voice hid my fear.

  To my left, a shadow peeled away from the shrubbery crowding the beach path. That voice, it sounded familiar, but my brain wouldn’t compute. Nothing made sense. The body slithered closer, just outside the circle of light created by the porch. A whisper escaped from the darkness of my mind. “Leila… is that you?”

  I took a step forward but intuition screamed from the pit of my belly. Stop. Her posture was wrong—hunched over and stiff—and her arms hung loose at her side. She shuffled a step and the light from the porch spilled over her features. I inhaled sharply, shock resonating through my core. It was Leila, but inky stains swam across her eyes in turbulent waves. I covered my mouth as bile burned the back of my throat.

  I’d seen eyes like those before—in Leila’s nightmare.

  “Why do you let them collar you, sister?” Her facial features were Botox-stiff but her lilting tone showed her confusion. She flicked her head to the side like a bird.

  Sister? That thing was not my sister. She shambled closer, and I stumbled backwards, groping behind me. Her torso shifted from side to side as though scratching her back against a pole. My skin crawled. She stood taller, straighter with each sudden movement as if every step was an adjustment to the unfamiliar body. Leila’s black hair whipped about her face and her white nightdress hung from her body like a scarecrow’s, trailing in the dirt as she moved. The thing that was not Leila slowly advanced.

  My eyes told me one thing but my heart wanted another. Leila was home safe, and this was a nightmare—maybe, I was still watching the memory byte. I closed my eyes and tapped my fist on my lips in a silent prayer. Please let it be a dream.

  What did you expect? That little voice intruded again. You’ve been denying your connection to witchcraft for years; it was bound to catch up with you sometime. She’s come for you.

  The roar of crashing waves clashed with a high-pitched cackle. “He didn’t want you, you know.” The shuffling and dragging grew louder, insistent. “He thought you were a mistake. You weren’t good enough for him, Kiya, so he left to find another. But we know the truth don’t we? You are too much witch for him. He fears you, just like he fears me.”

  Who the hell was Kiya, and who was He? I whirled around to find somewhere to escape but was almost against the back wall of The Cauldron. When I turned back, she was an arm’s length from my face. I cried out in surprise—the sound echoed by a murder of crows from the skeleton trees. Thirty or more dark, shimmering splotches clustered along the branches.

  “I’m not your sister,” I said, heart pumping. “Who are you?”

  “You don’t recognize me? Even like this, in my full glory?” She laughed and did a pirouette. Leila’s nightdress whirled. “I am Petra. We are friends, how could you forget? Tell me how a witch like you acquired permanency in a body, tell me how you drank from the cup of life and we can be sisters for eternity.”

  Um, I was born with it? She must have confused me with another witch. My thoughts flickered uncomfortably to the memory byte. Could a witch possession at birth have caused some sort of fusion? My fingers hovered over my red lips. Am I evil?

  My back hit the side of The Cauldron’s porch and I realized she’d been inching towards me. A few people had gathered at the back door, watching from the shelter of the kitchen. Shit. I couldn’t give myself away. One slip, and my carefully balanced lie would fall. How was I going to get out of this?

  Well, panicking won’t help.

  I faced the witch. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was born in this body. I don’t need to steal others or ‘acquire permanency’ and I didn’t drink from any cup. You’re insane.” A pang of guilt surged through me. Alvin’s attack was my fault; she wanted to impress me. What kind of twisted games did witches play?

  She threw her head back and laughed. Her movements were smoother now, more fluid. She’d made a home in my sister’s body. Leila didn’t deserve that. She was a cow sometimes, but no one deserved that.

  “Don’t deny it. I’ve seen you cast spells.
You know witchcraft, just like me. You are a witch, admit it… but—” she strained her eyes to see me better “—but you are something else, too. You smell like them, but they don’t want you. You act like us, but you don’t want us.”

  Seen me cast spells? I tried to remember a time I’d cast a hex in front of a witness. Never. Well, not that I knew of.

  “I want the truth but my patience is running out. I will search this body’s memories for the answers you deny me.” Her inky eyes, Leila’s eyes, rolled until only the whites showed and she began to shudder. A sickening wet sound slapped from her lips as she trembled.

  “For the love of—STOP!” I sprang at my sister’s body. My fingers dug into her shoulders. I didn’t want to see the horrible nightmare’s face on Leila. I wanted to see the face with hope glittering in her eyes when she gave me her jar. “Maybe things will be different,” she’d said. She’d wanted a new start. The promise of real sisterhood had been ripped away before it even began and I poured newfound fury into my arms.

  How dare she take that away from me?

  I shook her with all my might. “Get out!” I screamed. “Get out of my sister.”

  With every push and pull, every jarring shake, my collar grew hotter, scalding my neck. I became vaguely aware of the expanding crowd, spilling onto the porch, fighting for a glimpse of the freak show, but I didn’t care. I wanted her out of my sister’s body and screamed in outrage.

  Tears leaked from my eyes. Leila, or Petra—I didn’t know what to call her—continued to convulse. The collar seared my neck, and I smelled burning skin. I gave one final, almighty shove and her body flew into the air. Her hair covered her face as she fell before me. Shockwaves echoed in my body. No. I looked down, that was something else. Hot liquid sprayed from my neck, saturating my shirt and the dirt beneath. Something clattered to the ground behind me.

  “Shit.” My hand flew to my neck, but touched only tender skin. I patted my soggy shirt, then touched my naked neck again. I searched the ground behind me and found the collar clasp destroyed and utterly useless. Reality hit. I’d broken the terms of my probation, only a few weeks from release. I dropped to the ground and picked up the filthy clasp. “No, no, no.” I turned the black box over, trying to figure out how I could fill it with fluid again and put it around my neck. If I couldn’t, they would arrest me. They would hate me. They would burn me. I didn’t even hear the alarm beep, I’d been too preoccupied.