Soul Eater

by Lindsey Sparks

  Nik grunted.

  “Does she know?” Heru asked, followed by another moment of prolonged silence. “Well, she will soon enough, I’m sure. Eventually, the symptoms will be impossible to ignore. I would suggest telling her before she figures it out on her own. Trust me, nephew, I’ve been there. It’s best to be honest and open in situations like this.”

  I narrowed my eyes. Nik must have gotten some girl pregnant. It was the only thing that made any sense.

  Pat . . . pat . . . pat . . .

  I glanced down at the floor. Three little spots of blood stood out, stark against the pale carpet. I uncurled the fingers of my right hand, hissing in a breath at the sting. My nails had left behind four deep, half-moon cuts in my palm.

  Gritting my teeth, I wiped my hand on my pants, then turned around, opened the door, and stepped into the hallway. I could clean the blood spots later. I headed up the hallway to the conference room. The door was open, letting out the soft murmur of chatting voices. I could already feel the cuts on my palm closing up, itching as they healed. I flexed and straightened my fingers, helping the dried blood flake off and hoping nobody would notice.

  “Kat?” Lex called from the room ahead. “Is that you?” She poked her head around the doorjamb, smiling when she saw me, her warm, red-brown eyes filled with sympathy. “It is you.” She came out into the hallway, arms opened wide for a hug.

  I walked right into her arms, finding the first moment of comfort I’d felt in a long time.

  “Was Heru terrible?” she asked against my hair. “I was talking with Neffe and Aset, so I didn’t hear . . . but he was so mad.”

  “Eh . . .” I gave her one last squeeze, then released her and backed away a step. She let me go but maintained a loose grip on my arms. “He wasn’t so bad—just about right to be the perfect icing on my shit-tastic day.” I flashed her a tight, close-lipped smile.

  “Yes, well . . .” Lex tilted her head to the side, just a little. “How’s your headache?”

  I frowned. That was hardly the biggest problem right now. “Fine,” I told her. “Finally went away.”

  “Good, I’m glad.” She gave my arms a squeeze, then stepped back and held out her hand to the doorway. “Come on in. Let’s see what we can do to make this situation better.”

  “I’m really sorry.” I searched her sincere eyes, words tumbling over themselves in the rush to get out. “I swear I didn’t realize the Ducati was so well known, and I think you guys’ll agree that this is all worth the hassle, because I got all the details on the crazy haunting shit going down at that school.”

  “I knew it!” Lex said, snapping her fingers. She waggled a finger at me. “I knew that was why you were over there. Factoria was too random of a place for you to go, even if you wanted to lay low in some dive bar.”

  I raised my eyebrows. Somebody must’ve recognized me there after all. I was just grateful they’d kept their lips zipped until I’d left.

  “I’m eager to hear all about it,” Lex said, “but you should know—this has blown up. Big-time.” She nodded to the door. The pity in her gaze told me just how serious this was. “Go on, see for yourself.”

  Shoulders slumped and feet dragging, I walked into the conference room. Behind me, I could hear Heru and Nik ascending the stairs. The second I saw the images that were frozen on the paused monitor behind Heru’s chair at the head of the table, I gulped.

  The guy on the sidewalk had snapped a pic me giving him the one-finger salute as I ran across the street, and though my face wasn’t visible in the image, it was clear from the photo beside it—of me just moments earlier, standing there on the sidewalk, staring at him—that the girl flipping the photographer off was little old me. This was definitely not going to help Nejeret–human relations at all, and it was one hundred percent my fault.

  I turned toward the monitor completely, too ashamed to face the people in the room behind me. I really tried to act my age most of the time, but damn it all to hell if I didn’t get bit in the ass by my stupid teenage hormones at least once a day. And that was on the good days.

  “I hope it was worth it,” Heru said from the doorway. He stepped into the room, making his way toward me. Nik followed him in. “Because we’ve been scrambling to spin this since the photo came out.”

  He stopped beside me, well within arm’s reach. Again, this probably wasn’t meant to intimidate me, but that didn’t prevent it from happening.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I didn’t know he—” I caught the excuse while it was only partially formed and looked at the hardwood floor. “I should’ve controlled myself better. I know that, it’s just—” Again, I held in the excuse, hoping the sudden bout of maturity might earn me some brownie points. “I was wrong.” I looked up at Heru. “And I’m sorry.”

  He placed his hand on my shoulder. “I can see that you mean it—and I appreciate it, Kat, I really do—but it doesn’t change the situation we’re in now.” He removed his hand. “Sit. The others have some ideas for what you can do to lessen the damage.”

  Obediently, I trudged around the table to the open chair beside Dom’s mirror. I avoided making eye contact with anyone until I was seated. Sheepishly, I glanced at each face.

  Heru’s expression was stern, as was Neffe’s on his right. On his left, Aset wore her usual motherly look of compassion, and beside her—directly across from me—Nik stared down at the table, lost in thought about by gods-know-what. Garth—I wasn’t sure what he was doing in the inner sanctum, considering his freshly minted Nejeret ba—offered me a small, supportive smile, Lex a sisterly nod, and from within the standing mirror, Dom a pinched scowl.

  Of everyone there, Dom was probably the most disappointed in my lack of impulse control, since he’d been my teacher, my mentor, the one person here who’d spent literal blood, sweat, and tears teaching me how to control myself and avoid situations like this. On my left, Mari leaned back in her chair, arms crossed over her chest and expression smug. The final person seated around the table, Mei, wasn’t looking at me at all but was staring at her father, and she was staring hard.

  Curious, I glanced across the table at Nik, but I redirected my attention to the head of the table when Heru cleared his throat.

  “I believe Garth has had the best suggestion so far,” Heru said, looking at the man in question. “It would seem your recent status change from human to Nejeret may serve us well during this crisis . . .”

  Garth’s cheeks flushed, a hint of rosiness coloring his flawless tan skin. “Yes, well . . .” He coughed. “I’m glad to help, if I can.”

  “Please,” Heru said, “go ahead. Explain your idea to Kat.”

  Garth looked at me, flashing me an uncertain smile. “Honesty is the best policy, right?”

  Elbows on the armrests, I leaned back in my chair and shrugged. “That’s what they say.”

  “Right, well . . . they’re usually right.” He held his breath for a moment. “I think you should make an appearance. Go on live TV and tell the world what happened. Let them ask you questions. Show them your human side—so to speak. Show them that you’re a real person, and they’ll understand why you reacted the way you did in this photo.” He finished by pointing a thumb at the screen behind Heru.

  “Right, ’cause that works out so well for movie stars when they lose their shit . . .”

  “Called it,” Mari said in a singsong voice, and Garth flashed her a conspiratorial grin.

  “We figured you’d say that,” Garth said. “But just hear me out.” He leaned forward, hands clasped and forearms on the table. “You’re an enigma to people—to humans. You played this huge part in their lives—saving so many of them—yet they still know next to nothing about the real you. All they get from you is the canned speeches you make, filmed here, more like presidential addresses than anything close to personal. They swarmed to your bike today because they’re desperate to know you—and, through you, us. If you want to, you could flip this incident on its head and use it as a la
unching pad toward taking a big, positive step forward in Nejeret and human relations.”

  He believed it would work, that much was clear. And a quick look around the table at the handful of hopeful expressions told me he wasn’t alone.

  “There was another attempted bombing at one of Tarsi’s concerts—London this time,” Lex said. “We could really use some positive publicity . . . something to take the world’s eye off of all of the negative fallout of our ‘coming out.’”

  I looked from Lex to Garth and back, chewing on their reasoning. It was sound, aside from one little snag.

  “You’re a private person,” Garth said. “I know.” He looked around the table. “We all do. But giving the people a brief window into your life might be the only way to reclaim some of your privacy . . . and to get them to back off a bit.”

  I inhaled deeply, holding the breath. I wanted to make sure that what I said next didn’t sound like a trying-to-get-out-of-it excuse but merely a statement of the reality of the situation. “I agree with you, I do, but I don’t think it would be wise to choose this particular moment of my life to share with the public,” I said calmly, carefully.

  Lex blinked, and understanding lit her carmine eyes.

  “And why is that, Kat?” Heru prompted me.

  I shifted my gaze to our fearless leader. “Because I was in Factoria to visit Newport High School—”

  “The school that’s been reporting all the paranormal activity?” Garth said, sitting up straighter, interest lighting his eyes.

  I nodded, returning my focus to Heru. “Have you heard anything about it?”

  He shook his head, a tiny crease forming between his eyebrows.

  “Yeah, well, there’s some crazy stuff going on there, and it’s way worse than the news is reporting. I just had drinks with one of the teachers, and she filled me in on everything—even things the school district is trying to keep under wraps. Like that this past week, multiple kids have been found unconscious on school grounds, and they have no idea of the cause.”

  “This sounds like a matter for the human authorities,” Heru said.

  I rolled my eyes. “Like they’d be able to do anything about it,” I said, then glanced at Garth. “No offence.” He’d recently departed the human police force, stepping up to act as a diplomatic liaison between humans and Nejerets, due to his very fresh transition into immortality. “But this shit is real. I saw it myself—these ghosts or shadows or whatever they were attacked those two kids.” I shivered, recalling the way the one shadow being had stopped and stared at me for what felt like an eternity. “The kids couldn’t see them, but I could.”

  “While that is fascinating,” Heru said, “I fail to see why you felt the need to involve yourself in this matter . . . especially considering the risks.”

  I sat up, placing my hands on the table, palms down and fingers splayed. Time to play my trump card. “Because I’ve been dreaming about it,” I said. “Because I dreamt about it days before I heard anything about it on the news.”

  “You mean like an echo?” Mari clarified.

  When I nodded, Nik let out a long, low whistle. I met his eyes, just for a moment, looking away when the corner of his mouth lifted, causing a momentary spike in my heart rate. There was something akin to wonder in his eyes. And maybe a hint of pride.

  “I, um—” My voice was suddenly raspy, and I had to clear my throat before continuing. “I also consulted the cards, and they were pretty clear.” At least The Tower card been pretty clear about this particular matter: if I didn’t go to the school and figure out what was going on there, then a whole crap-ton of people were going to die.

  Heru’s expression was stony, giving nothing away of his inner thoughts. “The echoes have been closed to us since—”

  “I know,” I said, raising one hand partway to stop him from stating the obvious. “Trust me, I know. It doesn’t make any sense. Maybe it’s because of the At and anti-At running through my ba, or maybe it’s because that connection has been growing stronger . . . or maybe it’s because when I died, I—” I caught myself before the universe’s automatic gag order could shut me up.

  With a small headshake, I said, “It doesn’t matter. What does matter is that I have to go back to that school, and I don’t think we want the public to know that there’s any connection between us and whatever’s going on there until it’s no longer a problem. Nejerets being associated with unconscious kids—” I laughed under my breath. “Talk about bad press.”

  “Hmmm . . .” Heru rubbed the side of his face with his hand. “I see your point, but you’re too recognizable to go back to the school. We’ll send someone else to get to the bottom of whatever’s going on there. Once it’s taken care of, you’ll address the public, followed by an ask-anything Q&A. I suggest you spend the time until then figuring out what you’re going to say and coming up with a list of potential questions people might ask you.”

  “But—” I sat there, lips parted and tongue paralyzed. What if this really was tied to Isfet, and it was my only lead? I couldn’t just sit here doing nothing.

  Heru waited for several seconds, and when I said nothing more, he pushed his chair away from the table. “Unless there’s anything else, it’s been a long—”

  “It has to be me,” I blurted, voice sounding less certain than I felt. “The cards—I don’t think anyone else can fix this.”

  Heru offered me a placating smile, zero warmth in his golden irises. “Though it may not seem this way right now, Kat, the world does not revolve around you. Take a step back from this matter. We’ll handle it.” He stood and walked out of the room, but his voice drifted back in. “Lex? Are you coming?”

  I sat there, stunned, staring at the doorway.

  Lex reached across the corner of the table and grasped my forearm. “Don’t worry, Kat. We’ll figure this out.” Her lips curved into a secretive smile. “And if we can’t do it without you, we know where to find you.” She released my arm and stood, following after her husband.

  The others chatted as they stood and slowly made their way out of the room, but Garth hung back, standing behind his chair, expression hopeful.

  I leaned forward, resting my forehead on the backs of my hands on the table. I’d been sidelined, and it sucked. They wouldn’t be able to take care of this without me. I could feel it in my bones . . . or maybe in my soul. But a feeling wouldn’t be enough to sway Heru, so I would just have to wait until they came to me. I just hoped it wasn’t too late by then.

  “Kat,” Garth said. “I’d, uh . . . be happy to help you.”

  I raised my head a few inches and peered at him. “You would?” I wasn’t sure how having Garth plead my case to Heru would do much good, but I was up for trying anything at this point. I just wanted to prevent mass death at a high school. Was that so much to ask?

  “Of course,” Garth said, smile warm. “I mean, it was my idea in the first place. I feel like I kind of owe you.” He was talking about the PR spin thing, not about the school.

  My face fell. “Oh. Sure,” I said, resting my cheek on my hands. “That’d be great.”

  Chapter Eleven

  I sulked in my room for a solid hour before getting sick of my own mopey ass and forcing myself to get up and do something. Not what Heru wanted me to be doing, and not sleeping, despite it being well past midnight. No, I had a loophole in mind, a way to figure out more about the root cause of the strange activity at the school without actually disobeying Heru and going there—yet.

  I swapped my yuppie jogger outfit for my own worn, once-black sweatpants and one of the ratty, oversized T-shirts I liked to sleep in, grabbed my laptop, and left the room. Barefoot, I padded up the hallway to Garth’s bedroom door and knocked gently. When I didn’t get a response, I knocked again, a little louder this time.

  Bleary-eyed, he opened the door. “Kat?”

  “Oh good, you’re up.”

  “Well,” he said, voice husky with sleep, “I wasn’t, actually—”
<
br />   I flashed him an apologetic smile, then pushed past him into his bedroom. “Did you mean it about wanting to help me?” Eva, his snooty calico cat, lay primly on the corner of his mussed bed, giving me the ol’ stink-eye.

  “Yeah,” Garth said. “Of course.”

  “Cool, because I need your help.” I set my computer down on one side of the little table set up in front of the room’s picture window. Garth’s laptop already rested on the far side. “Please”—I waved to the chair on the other side of the table—“sit. We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

  Garth yawned, slowly making his way to the chair. “Can’t this wait until morning? You won’t have to make your speech for another day, at least.”

  I pulled out the chair on my side of the table and sat. “That’s not what I need your help with. At least, not tonight.”

  Garth frowned, pulling out his chair and joining me at the table. “Oh?”

  “We need to do some research.” I met his eyes. “On ghosts.”

  Believe it or not, the authorities weren’t really taking the whole haunted high school thing seriously. Other than reports filed after a few unexplained incidents earlier in the week that resulted in minor injuries, there was no evidence that police other than the officer posted there full-time had even visited the school. There wasn’t even anything in their records about the kids who’d been found unconscious, and I couldn’t help but wonder if the school had even reported the incidents.

  “There’s nothing else?” I asked Garth as I stared at him over the screens of our laptops. He wouldn’t let me into the police database all by myself, so I had to settle for accessing the info through him, one of Seattle’s former finest. “No ‘we’re keeping an eye on it’ tag or anything like that?”

  Garth shook his head. He was sitting across from me at the little tea table in his room, minor awkwardness and genuine friendship the only other things between us. “My guess is they think it’s all a senior prank.”