by Jessa Russo
No time for that now.
I gently nudged the part of the lump I assumed to be my mom’s shoulder.
“Mom?”
Light snoring answered me. I looked to the bedside table and saw her prescription bottle of Ambien. I sighed heavily. Back to that again. She’d be dead to the world for at least another eight hours. I considered waking her, shaking her and demanding that she face this with me, but I couldn’t do it. I briefly considered taking a few of her Mommy’s Little Helpers but I couldn’t do that either.
We’d talk tomorrow. Maybe she’d be ready to cope after a good night’s sleep.
I hoped.
I didn’t want to spend another minute in my mom’s dark cocoon of a room. I already felt like I was suffocating, and I’d only been in there for a few minutes. I quickly headed back to the front of the house, frustrated that I couldn’t do anything to help my mom.
Toby stood as he saw me enter, coming toward me with open arms. I looked up at him, wondering if I could really be with someone who could cause this much chaos in my life, and my tears silently streamed from my eyes. My throat tightened, and my chest pounded. I felt like I couldn’t draw in a breath.
I inhaled, but my lungs didn’t expand like I needed them to.
I ran past him, desperate to get outside, desperate to fill my lungs with fresh air.
I flew out the front door, gulping in the cool night air, suddenly unable to get enough of it. I was thirsty for it. I inhaled and exhaled, over and over, until I was feeling lightheaded. Toby came up behind me and closed his arms around me, pulling me into a tight embrace.
“I’m so sorry, Ever,” he whispered into my hair. “I never intended any of this to happen.”
And with that, I was reminded that we had so very much to discuss.
I pushed out of his arms, turning around to face him. I wiped my tears, resolved to be strong and face this situation head on, even if my mom and Jessie couldn’t. Or maybe because they couldn’t.
“Yes. About that. What did you intend exactly?”
I sat on the edge of the stoop and waited.
Toby closed the front door, then sat next to me. The closeness made my skin burn to touch him, but I ignored it. I had a strange feeling in my gut telling me that part of our relationship was gone.
He put his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. “Okay. I have to tell you something.”
“No shit, really?” I said, sarcasm the only emotion I had a solid hold on.
He turned and looked at me with his eyebrows raised.
“Sorry. By all means, do tell.” I waved my hand, signaling him to continue, my polite words tainted with more sarcasm. But hey, what could he really expect from me?
“Okay, well, you know how I told you I was a collector of sorts?”
“Yeah, antiques, not for eBay, I get it. But what does that have to do with—?”
He put his hand out as if to stop me and continued, reaching for me in the process. I yanked away from him, and his hand stayed extended in mid-air for a few long seconds before he tucked it back under his chin.
“Please, just give me a minute; I’ve never told anyone this before … okay, look … I lied to you, Ever. I do work with Ted, I mean, my dad … well shit. Okay. He’s not really my dad. I want to be honest with you, Ever, I do … but … well … we aren’t in antiques.”
There was something off about the tone of his voice, and I could tell he struggled with what he was saying. He was always so smooth and confident when he spoke, so hearing this new hesitation from him unnerved me. He paused to find the right words.
“Okay, here goes. I … well, we … we’re … soul collectors.”
Oh, okay. What? “What did you just say?”
It took everything I had in me to stay sitting next to him when all I want to do was get away from him. I didn’t just hear that, did I? This couldn’t be happening. I was cursed. I’d cared about two guys in all my life. One of them is—was—dead, and the other turned out to be a psychopath. Of course. Toby was a total nutcase. A dreamy and beautiful nutcase, yes, but I had to look past that part and focus on the craziness.
“I know this is a lot to take in, and this is not how I planned on telling you—at all—but after what Ariadne has done … well, you have a right to know.” He paused, taking a deep breath and turning to look at me before he continued. “I’m a soul collector, though collector isn’t quite the right word. We’re more like guides. I find souls that are lost—or misguided—and help them find their way; though, it’s not as simple as that. I didn’t start out this way … .”
I don’t know if I heard the rest of what he said. Maybe the information registered somewhere deep down in my subconscious, but he’d pretty much lost me with those first few words.
Soul Collectors?
I sat there staring at him, eyes wide and jaw open in disbelief. My thoughts screamed wildly through my head.
What the hell is he talking about?
I must have hit my head on something when I passed out earlier … .
I’m obviously hallucinating.
Soul Collectors?
Yes, hallucinations had to be the culprit. Or I was actually still passed out on the kitchen floor. I sure as heck didn’t want to believe that my boyfriend was a psychopath. Or a soul collector. No, neither of those would do. When I found my voice, as soft and muted as it was, I asked the first question that came to my mind.
“Are you even from Montana?”
He just looked at me.
Seriously? Of all the things to ask him, that’s what I came up with?
”No. I’m originally from Seattle. That’s where I was raised, at least.”
Seattle. Huh. “So you lied when you said you’d never seen the ocean?”
He raised his eyebrows at me before nodding his head, clearly surprised by my silly questions when something much more serious was going on. I was surprising even myself, but hey, I could only process so much craziness at a time.
Oh, wait. This has to be just another one of my nightmares. I desperately hoped I wouldn’t remember this one. I’d take bloody nightmares any day over my whole world being flipped upside down.
Only one thing to do then … I pinched myself. Ouch!
“What are you doing?”
“Oh, nothing. Just pinching myself.”
I pinched myself again. Ouch! “It’s not working.”
“I know. It’s because you’re not dreaming, Ever. I know this is hard to understand, but you more than anyone should be able to be open-minded about this.”
“Open-minded?” I screeched at him, “Did you really just say that, too!? Is that all you guys can say? As if it isn’t weird enough that my boyfriend just told me he’s a freaking soul collector, now he wants me to be open-minded?”
I jumped up to get away from Toby, but he stood almost as quickly and grabbed my arms at the elbows, holding me in front of him. He turned me to face him. I looked straight ahead, instead of at his eyes, anywhere but those blue eyes. He let go of one of my arms, and with his free hand, he turned my chin toward his face, forcing me to meet his gaze. I closed my eyes.
“Look at me.”
I straightened my back and squared my shoulders, trying to give the illusion that I meant business. I tightened my closed eyelids. All the while, it felt like little pieces of me were breaking apart inside. His hand on my face still made me weak, the warmth and closeness of our bodies sending my body signals I didn’t want to receive. Either someone was playing a really screwed up joke on me or this was all true.
Truth or not, I did not want to end up in the fetal position like my mom. No way.
“Look at me, Ever.”
I opened my eyes to his sapphire gaze. As he stared at me, I frantically searched his face for any indication that he was joking—or lying—or anything.
But he wasn’t.
He was as serious as I’d ever seen him. I looked longer, searched harder, waiting for a smile to crack his seri
ous expression. But it didn’t.
“Please, Ever. I didn’t want to tell you like this, I swear. But now that you know …”
Something strange happened. It was like everything sort of fell into place in my head. Something inside me actually believed him, as crazy as that was. That same something inside me started to carefully put the pieces together—the little things I’d ignored along the way.
The strange conversation with his dad—I mean, Ted—about getting inside my house. I had pushed it aside, ignoring it because I just wanted to be with Toby.
The fact that he knew my dad was dead, before we had even seen the accident. Impossible. No matter how you looked at it.
Frankie no longer in ghost form. More than impossible, but I’d seen it with my own eyes.
“Are you … are you even … ?” I couldn’t say the word. I looked down at the arms holding me. I couldn’t ask. I should ask, but … I couldn’t find the strength to do so.
“Human?”
Shit. He said the word I was trying to ignore, quietly, as if he was also afraid of it. As if he was also afraid of the answer.
“Look at me.”
Ugh. Why does he keep making me look at him? It’s like he knew my defenses weakened when I looked into his eyes.
He took my hand and placed it on his chest. I knew the angel wing tattoo was right beneath my fingers, as was his beating heart. I could feel it, thumping away as quickly as mine was. I looked back up into his eyes. A heartbeat.
Human.
My boyfriend was a soul collector. The rational side of my brain tried to remind me that I didn’t believe in soul collectors. But then, there had also been a point in my life when I hadn’t believed in ghosts either. Speaking of ghosts … .
“Wait a minute. How long have you known about my ghost, Toby?”
He looked down at the ground, avoiding my eyes.
“It’s why we moved here, Ever.”
Oh. So it wasn’t just a beautiful coincidence that he had moved in next door.
“Could you see him in my room last night?”
“Yes.”
Oh.
“But, I couldn’t do it. I know what you’re thinking, Ev, but it’s not what it seems. I didn’t know how I would feel about you. I didn’t know I would—”
“Wait. What are you saying … ?”
It hit me. Oh, god. Not only was his moving here no coincidence, but our entire relationship had been a lie. He didn’t really love me after all.
He doesn’t love me. It’s not real. I’m just a foolish little girl, and he tricked me. He tricked me into loving him and letting him in … and it was all just to get to Frankie.
“Oh my god.”
I pushed out of his grip and began pacing the length of the driveway. This was just too much to consider while standing still. And way too much to consider while his hands were touching me.
“Please, Ever, please, believe me. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I didn’t know I would love you! I would have never agreed to come here!”
“Stop, Toby. Please.” I turned, coming back to stand in front of him, anger replacing the hurt. “What about Frankie?”
Toby shook his head. “It’s … it’s not … .”
“Stop. What. About. Frankie? Have you come for his soul?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, god.” I didn’t know what to say. My world seemed to be spinning out of control right before my eyes. Frankie. My Frankie. In danger. His soul … .
“But wait. Then why is he alive, Toby?”
Toby bowed his head again, clearly troubled by what he had to tell me.
“Ever, Frankie was never supposed to be alive again. That’s not the way it works. What Ariadne has done, it’s … it’s … unheard of. Unnatural. And it’s wrong.”
“What? What do you mean by wrong?”
“Ever, Ariadne warned me that she would do whatever it takes to get me back. She thinks she’s giving you Frankie. She’s just messed up enough to believe that this is a trade you would agree to.”
“What?” It seemed to be the only word I could muster. My mind was spinning too fast for anything else. A trade?
“She thinks that if Frankie is alive, you’ll choose him and I’ll be free to be with her. Before Ted came to grab her earlier, she told me she’d done it for me. She doesn’t care that it’s not what I want. She doesn’t care that I’m in love with you. She doesn’t care that there will be repercussions for Frankie—”
Yeah, yeah, I’d heard all that. But … .
Repercussions?
“What?” I snapped. There it was again, the only word I could manage. “What do you mean when you say repercussions, Toby?”
He took my face in both of his hands, forcing me to look at him again, forcing me to look into those gorgeous blue eyes I loved so much.
I knew I didn’t want to hear what was coming. I just knew it. Felt it even.
But I listened anyway. Always such a glutton for punishment.
“Ever, Frankie’s soul belongs to Ariadne.”
I’m going to be sick—”
I pushed past Toby and ran into the house, making a beeline for the bathroom, then locking the door behind me. I could barely hear Toby’s voice through the door, my heaves were so loud. I didn’t even have time to be embarrassed that he could hear me retching; the pain of his betrayal and the shock from this new information about Frankie took center stage in my mind.
There were so many unanswered questions, and the scope of it all made me sicker.
“Go away, Toby!” I yelled, my voice echoing in the toilet bowl. I fumbled with the toilet paper, trying to grab some to wipe my face.
“Ever, I’m so sorry. Please, let me in. Please, talk to me.”
“Leave!” I shouted between heaves.
Frankie’s soul belongs to Ariadne. Toby’s words were like a broken record playing in my head. Frankie’s soul. Ariadne. The information was just too much for my body to handle. I vomited violently, worse than I could remember from even the most unforgiving stomach flu.
I don’t believe in soul collectors.
Maybe if I said it enough times, it would stick.
I don’t believe in soul collectors.
But who was I kidding? I’d lived with the reality that I shared my home with a ghost for the past two years—so was this realization really any different?
After emptying my stomach, and heaving a few more times just for good measure, I closed the lid and rested my head. The coolness of the ceramic was soothing on my cheek, so I ignored the fact that my head was resting on a toilet. I had been through far too much to care. I stared at the side of the faux wood-finished cabinet, without actually seeing it, until minutes later, when something caught my attention.
The tiny corner of a piece of paper was sticking out from between the cabinet and the trashcan. I reached for the paper and realization dawned on me. The library. The day I’d met Ariadne. Ugh. My stomach made a slight gurgling sound, and my mouth watered, but nothing else happened. Luckily, my stomach had nothing left to give. It had only been a few days, but I’d forgotten all about the book and the piece of paper. I’d chalked up Ariadne’s appearance at the library to reconnaissance, the typical new girlfriend doing an investigation of the ex-girlfriend type thing. Everything happened so quickly since then, that I hadn’t given it another thought. The paper must have fallen behind the trashcan when Jessie dumped the contents of my purse out that night.
I listened to the other side of the door, but it seemed Toby had finally given up. Maybe he’d gone home. I hoped he’d gone home. I needed time to process everything. Or just wallow in my confusion for a while. I unfolded the paper, assuming it was notes for a test or something else a library patron might leave behind.
I was completely unprepared for what I found on that neatly folded page. It wasn’t notes at all.
It was an image, a drawing, black and bold, the thick lines clear and concise.
An angel’s wing. Bu
t not just any angel’s wing. It was an angel’s wing with three thick, curved lines going through the center of it.
Toby’s tattoo.
I gasped.
What the hell was going on? Things just kept getting more screwed up! Why was Toby’s tattoo on a sheet of paper that had fallen out of a random library book?
I paused. Random?
Ariadne.
Oh. I knew without a doubt that there was probably nothing random or coincidental with Ariadne. Everything she did, she did with ulterior motives and precise purpose. I shook my head in disbelief. I’ve heard about crazy ex-girlfriends, but this had to take the cake.
I looked back down at the piece of paper with Toby’s tattoo on it. Something was bothering me. Something I couldn’t quite grab hold of yet. I stared at the image, urging the reluctant piece of the puzzle to fall into place, but nothing did. There was just a tickle in the back of my mind that wouldn’t come forward, taunting me just out of reach. I wasn’t fully connecting the dots.
Finally, exasperated and tired of sitting on the bathroom floor, I got to my feet and flung open the door, startling Toby, who had apparently been leaning against it. He hadn’t left after all. He fell backward quickly, then righted himself and stood to face me.
“What is this?” I demanded, waving the piece of paper in his face.
He looked at the piece of paper in my hand, then back at me. He looked at the piece of paper again, and his eyebrows pinched together.
“Where did you get this?” He stared at it while speaking to me, as if expecting to get the answers from the paper itself.
“Are you serious? Where did I get it? Who cares, Toby! What is it?”
“It’s my tattoo.”
“Really? Wow, I hadn’t figured that out at all! Seriously, Toby, answer me.”
“We—”
Ah, there it was. We. I remembered the piece of the puzzle that had refused to fall into place. It finally settled in comfortably with the other pieces. And what a screwed up puzzle it was. I interrupted him before he could finish, my own thoughts bursting to get out.
