Solomon's Ring

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Solomon's Ring Page 4

by Mary Jennifer Payne


  “How old is she?” the guard asks, jerking his head toward me like I’m mute.

  “She’s sixteen. I know it’s past curfew, but I don’t feel safe leaving her at home either. We have no one else. Her father is dead.”

  “Exceptional circumstances,” the other guard says. He’s equally as robotic as the first. Where do they get these guys? “Let them through.”

  After Mom and I place our fingers against a tablet that records our fingerprints, and after we have a scan of our irises recorded, we’re let into the building.

  “We don’t know who or what attacked Jasmine,” I say as soon as the sliding doors close behind us. “You can’t just go around saying it was terrorists.”

  Mom raises an eyebrow at me. “You heard Mayor Smith. We’re at war.”

  If only you knew, I think.

  Mr. Khan is waiting for us at the information desk. His fashionable striped shirt is rumpled and dark circles frame his eyes. Mom rushes toward him, gives him a hug, and kisses him on both cheeks.

  “Where is my angel? Is she okay? What did they do to her?”

  Mr. Khan nods. “She’s going to be fine. A bit sore and swollen for a while, but they don’t suspect any ­permanent damage has been done. They’re doing a scan right now to be sure.”

  I give him a hug and lift onto the balls of my feet so I can lean in close to his ear. He smells of chicory and faded cologne. “We need to talk. Jamie Linnekar wasn’t killed by a CCT. And I highly doubt a CCT left that insignia on the sidewalk using his blood.”

  “I know,” Mr. Khan whispers back. “I’m the one that found Jasmine with the body. I don’t know who or what arrived on the scene after us. But one thing’s for certain, they must’ve worked fast, because the police would’ve been there within minutes. The paramedics contacted them before even getting Jasmine into the ambulance.”

  As we walk toward the emergency room, I watch Mr. Khan’s face. His jaw is clenched tight and there’s a look in his eyes I’ve never seen before. He’s terrified.

  JASMINE

  I don’t want to be left alone. Even though I’m in the ­hospital under achingly bright fluorescent lights, what happened earlier tonight makes me wonder if I’m safe anywhere now. If demons aren’t just crossing over from the Place-in-Between but are somehow actually ­inhabiting people’s bodies in the here and now, who’s to say they won’t pop up anywhere, at any time? Will I be met by a smile full of razors for teeth and dead black eyes at the corner store?

  As I’m wheeled away for an MRI of my neck, I glance over at Mr. Khan. I must look like a rabbit caught in a snare, because he comes back over to me and leans in close.

  “Don’t be afraid,” he says, his breath warm on my ear. “I don’t exactly know what’s going on, but you’re strong … stronger than the others. I’m going to watch the news conference and meet your mum and Jade.”

  I nod, knowing he’s right. I need to lasso in my fear. It’s just I was always under the impression that the demons somehow belonged to the night, to the ­darkness. That, having come from a place beneath, they somehow ­needed the cloak of night to attack. Daylight felt safe. Now I’m not so sure that’s true.

  The scan doesn’t take long, and then I’m wheeled back to the hallway by a porter who unceremoniously drops me off like a bag of trash and then walks away. The hall is even fuller than it was before and buzzing with ­conversation. I listen to two women that look to be about Mom’s age, one on a gurney with her hand wrapped in a mountain of white gauze that’s turning red with each passing second, and the other leaning over her.

  “She’s not letting any refugees into Toronto and is ­voting to completely close Canada’s borders. And ­junkies and welfare recipients will be repairing the roads and water systems,” the uninjured woman says. She’s staring down at her video phone. I’m guessing Sandra Smith’s news conference is on.

  “If it will make the streets safer and save money, then I’m all for it,” the injured woman says, lifting her hand above her head. “This is crazy. How long do they want me to keep it like this?”

  “Keeping your hand above your heart is going to help slow the blood flow,” her friend says. “Do you really think closing the borders will keep the terrorists from ­striking? Won’t it just make things worse? I mean, we’ll be dooming people across the world to death. Think of how many have died just since aid programs stopped.” She frowns down at her watch. “Oh my god, she wants to bring in the death penalty.”

  “Might not be a bad thing. After all, part of the ­reason we’re in this mess is all the people in those ­countries having so many children,” the woman on they gurney says. “And I’d like to see some of these terrorists and psychopaths who are going around kidnapping and ­killing people get some of their own back.”

  The other woman shakes her head. “That’s terrible to say. Remember, an eye for an eye makes the world go blind. I think this is dangerous. And making some of the most vulnerable people in our society virtual slaves, working all night long? What’s next, dragging the ­elderly out to work for their pensions?”

  “We’ll have to just agree to disagree, Marsha,” the ­injured woman says as a doctor comes to look at her hand. “’Cause I think they’re finally here to sew me up.”

  I lie against my pillow, trying to swallow as little as ­possible to avoid feeling like shards of glass are being thrust down my throat. My stomach rumbles ­uneasily, and I realize I haven’t eaten since noon. I’d kill for a milkshake.

  The death penalty. It’s so barbaric. How would the government kill people they found guilty? Hanging? Electrocution? Lethal injection? Just the thought of it sends chills through me. What if the person is ­wrongly convicted?

  Then it hits me. What if a security camera caught my fight with the demon tonight? Caught me killing the demon that was Jamie Linnekar? The body didn’t remain in demonic form. For all I know, the police are ­searching through surveillance tape right now, zooming in on ­images of my face as my pole took off his head. Its head.

  Panic grips my chest, squeezing it like a fist. I need to get out of here. What if they’re coming for me right now? I kick off the sheet covering me and swing my legs over the side of the stretcher.

  A hand clamps down on my shoulder. I cry out in fear.

  “Stay right where you are, Jasmine.”

  JADE

  “She’s still in, having the scan,” Mr. Khan says. Mom and I are standing near the back of the emergency room, which is heaving with bodies. It’s hot and humid, and the smell of sweat, stale cigarette smoke, and various types of food hangs in the air like a wet blanket, coating everything. I feel sick.

  “How will they find us when she’s done? This,” Mom says, sweeping her arm out, “is absolute locura.”

  “Alejandra, let Jade and I go and get you a chicory or tea. We may be in for a bit of a stay. I’ll try to see if I can get someone to give us more answers and let them know where you are so they can bring Jasmine to you when she’s done.”

  I look over at Mr. Khan. He wants us to leave Mom on her own in here? Seriously?

  He nods at me. We need to talk. His lips don’t move, but his thought is crystal clear.

  “We’ll be right back, Mama,” I say, leaning in and giving her a kiss. “There’s probably a wait on scans since it’s been so packed tonight.”

  As soon as we’re in the hall, Mr. Khan moves ­closer to me. “What exactly happened earlier tonight? Why were you out so late?”

  “Jasmine and Cassandra wanted to do more training after school,” I say, careful to keep my voice low. “We went to do hills at the beach. I told them I didn’t think it was a good idea.”

  The muscles in Mr. Khan’s lower jaw tighten. “You’re supposed to go straight home after classes. There’s enough training being done at Beaconsfield. That was a defiant and irresponsible act, especially considering the circumstances right
now.”

  “I agree,” I say. “But if I’d left, I would’ve been on my own. The two of them can be pretty stubborn, you know. What was I supposed to do?”

  Mr. Khan nods. “They’re first-borns. You were put in a bad position. Sorry.” He runs a hand through his hair. “What’s more critical here are the events that followed. Did you see Jamie?”

  I glance around. The halls are full of people: white-coated doctors rushing back and forth, relatives leaning against walls, patients and family members crumpled over in pain and sorrow on chairs.

  “Can’t we just say him or Bob or something?” I ask. “Is it really safe to talk here? About that?” Considering his name is plastered all over the media tonight as breaking news, I’m thinking the answer should be a big no. The fact that Mr. Khan even said the name out loud makes me realize just how tired and stressed he must be.

  “The cafeteria. It’s just up here. I need to find out more about exactly what happened with Bob.”

  Once we’re in the cafeteria, I take a seat while he grabs another two chicories for himself and Mom and a mint tea for me.

  “Okay, we dropped Cassandra off at her place and were heading home. It took us a bit longer than we’d thought, and it got dark pretty fast.”

  Mr. Khan takes a sip of his chicory. “Yeah, it tends to get dark fairly early in October. That’s why we’ve been telling all Seers to go straight home after school unless there are extenuating circumstances. Going off to train at a remote beach at the foot of the city does not qualify.”

  “You’re preaching to the converted, remember?” I say. “It was stupid. Agreed. Anyway, we were only about ten minutes from home when it became obvious ­someone or something was following us. When he got closer, we could see it was one of them.” I’m not about to start whispering about demons in public, no matter how much privacy we have in our corner of the cafe.

  “Did you actually see him? I mean, really see him? Which one of you decided he was … different?” Mr. Khan places his elbows on the table and leans forward. “Because I saw him after … everything. And he didn’t look one bit different. He looked like a normal young man. And like you said, it was pretty dark.”

  I pause, letting the steam from the tea waft over my face, the minty scent soothing me, and think back over the events. Everything happened so fast. But I’ve been trained to be observant, to be diligent in my awareness of my environment.

  “It was me,” I finally say. “Definitely. I noticed his eyes first and warned Jazz. Then it, I mean he … he kind of snarled, and that’s when we saw his teeth. Like pointed razor blades. He attacked us, not the other way around. Bob was definitely one of them.”

  Mr. Khan sits back heavily in his chair and regards me silently for a few seconds. “What I tell you right now must not be broadcast amongst the Seers. Not until I talk to the Protectors about it, because I believe Bob wasn’t fully one of them. He couldn’t have been. He was still alive in terms of consciousness, but being used as a vessel, which means the demons that are among us are stronger than we thought … and more numerous. The less time a demon’s spent in a human body, the more likely that person’s spirit is still present and fighting to come forward. The demons in the Place-in-Between are ­inhabiting ­vessels that have been down there for ­decades and decades, and there is nothing left of the soul or ­consciousness of the original inhabitant of the body. When demons are on Earth, they need to feed, because here the tissues will disintegrate quickly. However, demons like the one that attacked you tonight are possessing bodies that are … fresher. To do that, the demons must be very strong.” He pauses and looks out the row of cafe windows into the blackness of a park across the street.

  “How come I was able to exist down there? If my soul was up here, trapped in the Ibeji, how was I down there and able to survive for so long?” I ask.

  Mr. Khan looks thoughtful. “I’m not certain. Likely it was because your soul was still alive, though in the doll, and there was some sort of transference of ­consciousness and energy because of that between you and Jasmine. Just as she could reach you and open up the gateway to the Place-in-Between when she touched it. We’ve never had anything like that happen with a Seer before. All things considered, it’s probably best that you don’t dwell on that time. What matters is that you are now back here — with us.”

  I’m not sure if his explanation makes me feel better, but I can tell from his tone that we’re done talking about it. Perhaps that’s why I have no real memories from the Place-in-Between, or at least I didn’t until Jasmine touched the doll.

  “It’s pretty worrying that some kind of super-strong demon is after us, isn’t it?” I ask.

  He nods. “That’s not our only concern, though. It’s highly likely all that happened between the three of you was captured on security footage, considering the amount of security cameras and patrolling drones around. You’re positive he attacked first?”

  I nod. “One hundred percent sure. He lunged at me, and Jasmine intervened.”

  “We better head back,” Mr. Khan says, rising. “If that’s the case, and the two you were attacked first, the police will see that Jasmine acted in self-defence. The hard thing is going to be explaining how a ­five-foot-three, ­sixteen-year-old girl was able to decapitate a grown man with a single blow from a bamboo pole. I’m pretty sure that falls just a little outside the boundaries of ­reasonable force.”

  “You don’t think she’ll be charged, do you?” I ask, pushing in my chair. A knot of worry grips my stomach.

  “Nothing’s certain anymore, Jade. What I do know is, the less attention drawn to the Seers and Beaconsfield, the better. Unfortunately, I have a feeling what happened tonight is going to put us directly in the spotlight.”

  JASMINE

  “Get a hold of your fear, Jazz,” Raphael says ­beside me.

  I sit up and stare at him, slack-jawed and wide-eyed like some sort of guppy. He’s dressed in a worn army fatigue jacket and faded jeans with a grey cotton toque pulled down low over his ebony, shoulder-length hair.

  “Are you back?” I ask, holding my breath, half afraid of his answer. “There’s so much going on. I went by your apartment loads of times after we got back, but there was never any answer. The super said it had been empty for weeks…. My video messages were never returned. It’s been over six months.”

  He puts a finger to his lips. “I’ve been around. Even when I’m not right here, I’m still helping you, guiding you.” He gives me a lopsided smile, his deep-brown eyes changing to a vibrant green. There’s something he’s not telling me about his absence, though. I can sense it. Something to do with me. The lighthearted banter is a cover, but I can’t fully read his thoughts. It’s exhausting just to try. “And by the way, you’re a lot of hard work to help. What were you thinking, training at Cherry Beach after school?”

  A curtain of silence falls between us. I’ve missed him so much. That familiar energy is building between us again. We’re like the opposite poles of a magnet; our ­attraction is that strong. Raphael removes his hand from my shoulder. I know he feels it as well.

  “Yeah, well … I nearly died tonight,” I finally say, the words sticking in my throat. “I honestly thought that ­demon’s face was going to be that last thing I ever saw … not Mom, not Jade …” Not you, I want to say, but stop ­myself. Tears spring to my eyes, but they’re tears of anger. I’m angry with myself because Raphael’s right. It was stupid of Cassandra and I to push ourselves by training more today. And if I’m really truthful, I did it partially because I wanted the opportunity to fight, to take on the demons, to test my training and newfound strength. It was ego and the prospect of excitement that drove me to the beach today.

  “Well, you didn’t die, and you need to get your ­emotions in check, because there’s a lot happening. In fact, that’s part of the reason why I can’t stay long.” He glances over his shoulder. “There are entities
here ­controlling the dark forces via humans. They need to be stopped.”

  “What entities? What are you talking about?” How can there possibly be more for me to learn? Isn’t it enough to have been a normal teenage girl one minute (albeit with a twin sister abducted and assumed dead), only to have found out in the span of a few months that I am a being with special powers, that demons not only exist but can be destroyed by yours truly, and that there is another plane of existence that houses lost souls?

  “When the time is right, you will discover more. The world is changing irreversibly, and changing fast.” He pauses. “You’re going to have to be prepared for ­challenges you never dreamed possible. There will be losses. Terrible losses that will bring you to your knees. But you need to be strong, Jazz. Strong and smart. We need you to survive. The human race needs you to ­survive.”

  “I’m trying,” I say. “This demon was so much stronger than the ones I fought last year in the Place-in-Between.”

  Raphael nods. “The Place-in-Between is like a ­holding ground for demons, as well as the lost souls. They gather their strength from negative energy, but here they get stronger from devouring souls and blood, the life source of all living beings, as well as negative emotion. They’re vampiric here. And that is what makes them much, much more powerful.”

  A chill falls over me like a shadow. “The demon said they were looking for me. Not Jade, not other Seers. Me. It said I was elegido. In Spanish, that means chosen. Do you know what that means? Why is he saying that? What have I been chosen for?”

  Raphael looks away, his eyes darkening.

  “Muy preciosista!” Mom shouts. I turn and see her rushing down the hall toward me. She descends, ­vulture-like, and envelops me in a huge hug. “Are you okay? What happened? Who did this to you?” The ­barrage of questions is dizzying. She holds me tighter, her ­perfume, a mixture of vanilla and anise, washing over me.

 

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