Soul Thing

by Lana Pecherczyk

  My windows had been closed when I left.

  Tommy called for Cash.

  I picked up the box. Alarm jangled my nerves. But surely I was overreacting. Maybe I had opened the window.

  I lifted the lid and screamed.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  A DEAD CROW stared at me. It was crammed into the box and had feathers falling from its skin. The head twisted awkwardly and a pungent, sweet smell assaulted my nose. The crows at The Cauldron had nothing on this stiff, rotting corpse staring at me through one cloudy eye.

  I seemed to be underwater, listening to Cash’s pounding feet get closer.

  “Ugh,” Tommy said. “That smells bad enough to gag a maggot. Let me take that off your hands, Probie.” His voice trembled as he tried to remove the box but my fingers wouldn’t budge. They were as stiff as the animal in front of me.

  “The window is open.” Cash moved to the curtains, his feet crunched on broken shards of glass. He put his head through the hole to look outside. “How did I not hear this?”

  My fingers cramped from clutching the box. The evil had found me. It had followed me and now my new innocent friends were in danger too. Tremors set in and the box shook.

  Tommy tugged at it but I tugged back. I dropped the box to the bed and pushed Tommy away. “No! I don’t want it to touch you,” I said then turned to Cash. “Get away from the window, quick.”

  I skirted the bed and pulled him stumbling back.

  “It’s my fault.” I palmed my forehead and eyed the box.

  “Roo, we can handle ourselves,” Tommy scoffed.

  “He’s right—” Cash started.

  “No! If I hadn’t come here you’d all be—don’t touch it Tommy!” I launched myself at Tommy who had leaned toward the box. But I was too late.

  “There’s a picture in here.” He pulled a white square from under the feathers. He turned it over. Leila and Aunt Lucy at the last food festival. They squinted into the sun and sweat glistened their brows, but they looked happy. I’d taken the shot—always on the outside looking in.

  “Petra’s been at the Manor,” I mumbled. “That photo is from our gallery wall.”

  “It could’ve been removed by anyone but, as your aunt is missing and Petra seems to have an affinity with crows, you’re probably right,” Cash said.

  My thoughts ran wild. It was bad enough she’d desecrated the estate home, but Petra had been in my new room, my safe haven with the purple bedspread. That blood sucking, body-snatching witch had been in my room.

  “Do you feel anything out there?” Cash jerked his head to the window. He’d taken the attack of the familiars in his stride, now this. How could this not affect him? Even Tommy was pale.

  “Don’t you get scared?” I asked. “Doesn’t this shock you?”

  He shrugged. “Fear is a useless emotion and I’ve seen too much to be shocked anymore.”

  Tommy flinched at Cash’s words. I wanted to ask more—what had happened to him? What had he seen? But Cash asked me to check for auras again, so I cast my senses out.

  “I can’t feel anything beyond the alarm. It blocks my abilities. How did she get past it?”

  “She may have bewitched a person to deliver the package. The static alarm only tests the energy field of witches or familiars. I’m going to check the perimeter. Stand on the porch, Roo. Check for any auras bigger than a squirrel, then move into the living area and wait for me.”

  “What does he mean about checking for auras?” Tommy asked as we followed Cash to the front.

  “Oh. Um.” Aware that we’d accidentally spoken candidly about my abilities in front of Tommy, I looked to Cash for help. He hadn’t wanted Tommy involved, and neither did I.

  Cash jumped in with an explanation that vaguely covered all of my abilities—my attack at birth. “She’s special Tommy, she has gifts,” he said. “She can help me fight against this infestation of evil in the world. It’s a good thing.”

  “Wow, you can do that?” Tommy asked. “Feel auras?”

  I shrugged and looked at my feet.

  “Cool,” Tommy said. “I mean, I knew you were special, but—”

  “Let’s go,” Cash urged.

  We jumped into action. I cast my senses out past the cottage, finding nothing significant. Cash checked the bullets in the magazine of his gun and disappeared into the darkness. Tommy disappeared in the other direction to dispose of the carcass.

  I took my place on the sofa facing the door. Fatigue washed over me but I couldn’t close my eyes. I was too frightened. Whoever sent that box, whoever broke into my room… they had found me. They would find me anywhere. My bet was on Petra. The Inquisitor wouldn’t get off his ass—although, his side-kick… I shivered, hunched low in the seat and hugged myself.

  Tommy returned and sat next to me. He popped a cigarette in his mouth, hesitated, then plucked it out and ran it under his nose, inhaling its scent. He fidgeted beside me until I was about to wiggle away. Then he pulled the photo from his back pocket.

  “It says something on the back. ‘Heard about the animal attack. They won’t bother you while I’m around. I’ll be working at the festival as planned. Come and I’ll reveal your truth. Eternally yours, Sister.’ You were attacked? What haven’t you guys been telling me?” he asked.

  I groaned. Well, that confirmed it was Petra. She had either gleaned the festival information from Leila, or possessed Aunt Lucy right now. Had she been there the whole time? The thought made me shudder. They’d both worn a lot of perfume—maybe it had been to cover the stench of decay.

  “Roo!” Tommy said, interrupting my angst. “When were you attacked?”

  Cash walked in, saving me from stuttering something inane.

  “There’s nothing out there, now,” he said and took the photo from Tommy. “Well, it’s definitely from Petra and, if you believe this, it sounds like she didn’t send the Familiars. If that’s true, then there could be other witches lurking who might be after you. This is bigger than I anticipated.” He pointed to the second half of the writing then looked at me. “What’s this about the festival?”

  Tommy stood up, face reddening. “Who attacked you?”

  “Urser Estate is supplying the wine at this year’s festival beach barbecue and I think it means she’s planning to continue the ruse and work at the event. Does that mean she wants to establish a life here—masquerading as Aunt Lucy?”

  Cash narrowed his eyes, but said nothing. He stalked to the dining table and threw the photo onto the pile of papers then returned to stand in front of me. “This is good, we’ll know when and where she’ll be. Are you sure that’s what she meant—she’ll be there?”

  I shrugged. “I guess so.”

  “Tell me about this event, then I’ll come up with the details and let you know what I expect you to do. Tommy, you don’t need to be involved in this. You can leave.”

  “Wait just a goddamn second.” Tommy exploded. “Is somebody going to explain who attacked you? Were you hurt?”

  “It’s nothing. It happened on the way here, but we handled it. It’s why I had you pick us up.”

  “I thought you just had a small car accident.” Tommy sat down hard, then stuck out his chin. “No. If you’re making plans, they should involve me. You’ve both been keeping me in the dark and I’m sick of it. I don’t want you putting Roo in front of a psycho witch who’s fixin’ to take her to the other side of heaven. That just ain’t going to happen. I’ll go with her. I’m no hunter so the witch won’t be afraid of me.”

  Cash looked at his little brother for a minute. “You’re right, Tommy,” he finally said. “Roo being alone is not a good idea. But you have to do as you’re told, got it?”

  I yawned. Roo alone. It was an extremely inviting concept at that moment. I spent the next thirty minutes explaining the food festival and its formalities and then sat silently while they bickered over the best course of action. Even though Tommy had no idea how to take down a witch, it didn’t stop him putting his
two cents in. Eventually I excused myself to go to bed, got half way to my room and remembered the smashed window. I returned to the living room, chewing my lip. “Um. I don’t really want to sleep in that room.”

  Tommy, half-way through the bag of his hard earned sweeties, said through a mouthful of honey cakes, “You want to sleep in my room?”

  “I can sleep on the couch, it’s no biggy. Or just point me in the direction of a hammer and some wood, I’ll board up the window.”

  “No. You can sleep on Tommy’s bed, he can take the sofa. I’ll board up the window later.” Cash gave Tommy a meaningful look.

  Tommy stood up, dusted the sugar from his mouth and put his arm around my shoulders. Despite the weight, I felt a hundred times lighter immediately. His embrace was comforting, familiar and strangely enough, felt like home—not the home I’d grown up in, but the one I’d always hoped I did.

  “Everything’s going to be all right, you’ll see,” he said. “Think them positive thoughts and everything will turn out roses and pancakes”—he kissed the top of my head—“with syrup on top.”

  He did a manic tidy of his room and picked up what he could. The rest, he kicked under the bed. As he tidied, I kept my eyes on the window, watching and waiting, daring the curtains to move. But they didn’t. I crawled onto the bed and peeled off the navy blue covers to slip underneath, fully clothed. The luxurious texture of the sheets slid over my skin. I sighed and closed my eyes.

  “These smell wonderful.” I murmured into the pillow. “Heavenly.”

  “Hang on a minute.” I felt Tommy shift onto the bed next to me. “Say cheese.”

  I groaned at the interruption and opened my eyes to find he’d reclined next to me with his camera pointed at our faces. “Bedroom selfie,” he said as the flash blinded me.

  “What was that for?”

  “Proof for when I tell everyone we slept together.” He smirked and rolled off the bed. “I’ll let you sleep now.”

  “Tommy?”

  He paused in the doorway, smiling at his camera screen. “Yeah?”

  “So, you really don’t mind about my… uniqueness? You don’t think I’m…” A freak?

  He pulled off his baseball hat, sat on the edge of the bed and patted the blanket over my hip. “Roo, I think you’re great. Nothin’s going to change my mind about that. Look, if you’re having trouble sleeping, I’ve got a few lullabies and stories up my sleeve.”

  “Oh no, don’t worry about it.”

  “Yep, Ma and Pa used to take turns telling us stories, on account of us getting those nightmares all the time.”

  “I’m fine, seriously.” I put a hand on his arm. “You said, us.”

  “Yeah, Cash and me both get them. It’s why we don’t sleep too well. We don’t remember much about them, just wake up in a poorly sort a way. They stopped telling stories after the accident. I guess it was harder to tell with just one person, and I was old enough by then.”

  “What happened?”

  “I thought you knew.” Tommy pulled out an old silver neck chain from under his shirt. “This was my father’s. He died a few years back in a car accident when Cash was learning to drive. It was nasty—you seen his scars, right?”

  An ache hit the back of my throat. Oh, Cash.

  “He had his first blind attack while they were driving. The roads were wet and well, you can guess the rest. It’s why he won’t drive with anyone else in the car. He doesn’t want anyone dead on account of his episodes.”

  “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up.” I pulled the covers up to my chin, wanting to stuff them inside my gigantic mouth. And I had teased Cash about being a safety-Nazi. I was so stupid. “It must be painful to talk about.” I’d even joked with Cash, calling him “Dad” when he told me to eat the protein bar before driving.

  You should just get up and leave. My subconscious snarled. Go back to the witch. She’s the only one who deserves you.

  What? I sat up, surprised at the vehemence of my own thoughts. Were they my thoughts? Why would I think that?

  Because you’re useless. This time, the words sounded crystal clear.

  “Did you hear that?” I asked. My nerves skittered, rebelling against the exhaustion rolling through me.

  “Hear what?” He tilted his head.

  I realized how ridiculous I was being. “Nothing, sorry…”

  He shrugged. “Let’s get on with the story.” He gently pushed my shoulder. “Probie, you need to lie down if you want to sleep. Unless you know some new fandangled way I don’t?”

  I sank back into the covers, closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I was losing it. I felt a soft touch on my head as he pulled hair from my face.

  “Okay tell the story,” I said with a small smile.

  “So there was this guy, and he was a superstar,” Tommy said. “His name was Jesus Christ and everyone loved him because he—”

  “Tommy, I’m not religious. I’m sorry I don’t—”

  “Shh.” He placed his finger on my lips. “I’ll just sing the lullaby, I forgot all the words, anyway. Okay, so… well, go on, git yourself relaxed and close your eyes.”

  I gave him a sideways smirk. I liked this. He soothed me.

  As soon as I was in position, Tommy softly hummed a tune I recalled as belonging to Jesus Christ Superstar. It had been a Broadway hit, and the score had topped the charts for years. I shut up and listened.

  “Try not to get worried. Try not to turn on boys who sit next to you. Oh don’t you know, everything’s all right, yes everything’s fine and I want to sleep next to you tonight…”

  I tried to stop a laugh, but it burst through my nose. I covered my face with the blanket. “That’s not how the song goes.”

  “Shh.” He patted me and continued to sing. “Close your eyes, just relax and take a chill pill tonight…”

  He had a wonderful voice, soft and soothing. Despite the imaginative lyrics, I felt my thoughts drift.

  My last thoughts were of random disturbing visuals—dead birds, evil horses, the feeling of mid-air weightlessness when we rolled the car. And the book Marc said Cash was after… it had something to do with his soul.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  MY MOTHER HELD out her hand to me, like in the memory byte. But this wasn’t that, I knew because I could hear her. I couldn’t understand her; she spoke in French but I could tell she was desperate, scared even. Then her long black hair changed to red, just like it had in the memory byte. Her eyes filled with black tears that overflowed and dropped to the ground to form an abyss.

  She was the witch—Kiya. “You’re going to cause pain if you stay. Your love will kill your friends. Leave, find Petra. She has the answers you need, not these people.”

  But my mother fought her again from the inside. She grabbed her head between her hands and pulled her hair, crouching low, screaming until her hair changed back to black and her eyes were compassionate once more. “La Roux,” she said in English. “Don’t listen to the witch—she is full of lies. Listen to your mother. I love you, no matter what happens, I love you. You must do the right thing.”

  I gasped, a surge of warmth spread through my body, but then the dream changed. I no longer saw my mother or the witch but sat on a log at the beach, a fire crackling before my eyes.

  “Love, about time you showed up, you’ve been running through my mind all day…” His voice echoed as if from a great distance. My head swam.

  “Marc?”

  It was hot. I was hot, burning with desire. I fought an invisible game of tug-of-war. He pulled—he wanted me, but I didn’t want him. I pushed back—I ran.

  I stumbled through the dark, past the sweet eucalyptus trees. There were footsteps behind me. A drum beat inside my head. I ran faster. It beat faster. I checked my neck, but the collar was gone.

  I was cold. So cold. My clothes were gone. My skin tingled, my hairs stood on end. Was there someone behind me? I faltered.

  “Your love will kill your friends, it
will be your fault.”

  “Listen to your mother, I love you.”

  “Love, where are you going?”

  Love. The word echoed through the caverns of my mind.

  I woke up panting, covered in sweat and conflicted. Pain replaced the emotion ripped from my soul. My eyes stung and my chest ached as I thought about my mother. She’d said she loved me, but it was only a dream. A weird dream. She’d never met me, nor I her.

  And Marc’s question. Where was I going? I rolled onto my back and stared at the white, chalky ceiling in Tommy’s room where a pattern was etched into the plaster. I rubbed my eyes and counted corners, waiting for my brain to make sense of the random dream.

  Why would I dream that? I must be trying to work out which of my recent experiences I needed to remember and which to forget. Well, hear me now brain—archive it all.

  Especially Marc. I didn’t need to remember him like that. I’d bet my bike that he’d pushed the vision into my head when he kissed me. I could still see his smirking face as he left last night. Pffft, a parting gift to remember him, alright. Maybe the first part was my own confused brain, but the second part. Grrr. My fingers tightened around the blanket with the need to strangle a certain cockney god. At least I could be angry with that.

  I pulled the blanket up to my chin and felt resistance to my right—Tommy. My mood softened when I saw his sleeping face, all peaceful and lax. He wasn’t having a nightmare now. A small smile curved his lips on one side. So, he’d slept next to me after all.

  In a twisted sense of foreboding, I suffered a pang of sadness. He slept with his arms over his chest, crossed as though he lay in a coffin. The cord of his camera was tangled in his fingers and he clutched a small digital music player. He shouldn’t be so close to me.

  The front door slammed.

  I threw off my covers and tip-toed into the living room to peek out of the front door’s window pane, then ducked. Cash. He hadn’t seen me. I spied some more. He stood in front of the Jeep waxing his surfboard, wearing a full body wetsuit that peeled halfway down to hang at his hips, displaying his naked and tattooed torso. For an eternal, glorious moment, I imagined what it would be like to touch those magnificent abs. Rocks, like Kitty said, or soft and velvety.