by Natasha Deen
“More than personal, and unlike Serge, I can name it. That was my mother’s energy.”
Chapter Five
I came out of the bathroom, tying an elastic band around my braid, and found Serge on the bed. Ebony had curled herself into a ball, and Buddha, his doggy tail covering her, snored beside his feline sister. “How did it go?”
“I had to bail,” he said. “I thought the other side would be like a library. Quiet. Orderly. But that place is like Disneyland, the Grand Bazaar, and Grand Central station all rolled into one. Besides, I figured Craig could work faster if he wasn’t trying to explain everything to me.”
“Did you find out anything?”
“There aren’t a lot of soul-eaters because each individual one can ingest an insane number of ghosts. They’re supposed to disgorge their souls on a regular basis so they don’t build up power, but lucky us, this one is a hoarder.” He muted the TV. The cop team on the screen continued to question their suspect, helped by the glare of a solitary ceiling light. “But here’s the weird thing. A soul-eater isn’t an otherworldly entity. It’s someone on this side.”
“Someone alive is collecting souls?” I sat beside him. “Is that even possible? You’re talking about a corporeal body—a finite capsule. How can it house souls?”
His mouth twisted. “It’s confusing, but it has something to do with how a supernatural human is genetically put together. But there’s another thing. It was someone like us—like you—a living person who’s training to be a guardian.”
“It doesn’t make sense. It can’t be alive. I felt that thing. It had my mom’s energy.”
He slapped his forehead. “That’s why it felt familiar.”
“It has my mom.” I frowned. “But how can it have my mom? She comes to me in radios and warnings. If she can escape from the soul-eater to contact me, then why does she go back to it?”
“I don’t know,” said Serge. “Were you thinking about her when we were fighting with it?”
“I’m always thinking about her.”
“Maybe it recognized your energy and used the other souls it has to fake your mom’s signature and distract you.”
If it could hide in someone else’s energy, if it could create soul energy, then no wonder hell couldn’t find it. And now it had Zeke. It also had a little boy who’d battled cancer then returned from the love on the other side to get his brother, only to be captured by evil. “Maybe,” I said. “But something about it felt too real.”
“What if it’s her love for you?” asked Serge. “What if she is trapped but her love for you is so strong, she can sense when you’re in trouble and warn you. Her love is too powerful for the soul-eater to stop.” He sat up. “Maybe that’s why her warnings come out wrong, because they’re passing through a power-hungry soul-eater first.”
“Maybe.” I liked the idea of my mom loving me enough that nothing could stop her from trying to take care of me.
“Your mom’s warnings might also explain why the entity’s here, now. You’ve transitioned a lot of ghosts and you’ve never had anything like this happen. But in the last while, you’ve had two murders, seen hell claim a soul, had a child die and cross over. What if all the convergence of supernatural energy and your mom’s warning is what brought him here.”
“All good theories,” I said. “I wish Craig would get here. I need information.” The reminder that I was in the dark with this thing, dependent on someone else for my information forced me off the bed.
“I don’t like it either,” he said. “Craig has all the institutional knowledge.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“Who knew you were capable of five-syllable words?”
He grinned and wriggled his eyebrows. “I know how to work this tongue into all kinds of multi-syllabic words, and it drives the ladies into the one-syllable ones.”
“Oh, god.”
“That’s what they say.”
“Hold on.” I held up my hand. “I’m trying to force the vomit back down my esophagus.”
He shrugged. “Truth is truth.”
“Do you miss it?”
His eyes widened at the question. “Vomiting? Not even a little bit. You have no idea how many nights I got so drunk I had to sleep by the toilet.”
It was more nights than I wanted to think about. “Not vomiting, smart guy. I meant, are you lonely?”
“I have you, Craig, Hank, Nell, Nancy—”
Ebony and Buddha raised their heads and looked his way.
“And the dynamic duo over here.” He scrubbed the undersides of their jaws.
“I meant the relationship stuff. Do you miss having a girlfriend?” The look on his face made me go over and put my arm around his shoulder.
“I do feel lonely sometimes, really lonely. If you could hold me a little tighter, maybe squeeze those mosquito bites against me.”
I shoved him away. “Really? I was trying to have a moment with you.”
“I was trying too.” He laughed and caught the pillow I threw at him. “Yeah, sometimes I miss having someone. You have Craig, Nancy has Hank, and Nell has—”
“The entire town.”
He laughed. “All hail the hive mother.” Serge rubbed Ebony’s back as she curled on his chest. “What I really miss is the idea of someone. Amber and I were never a couple. I was a beard for her and the reverend—”
Part of me broke for him, for living a life where he could never call the reverend father. Most of me was glad Serge didn’t give him that title. He’d been a horrible man, and he didn’t deserve any loyalty.
“But for now, I figure it’s a good time to work on me, work on this whole guardian thing.” He smiled. “I have the faith that one day—”
“The right ghoul will come along?”
He groaned. “You should show me those mosquito bites now.”
There was a knock on the door. Dad came in with a cup of tea and a plate of Nancy’s cookies. “I saw your shoes at the door.”
“Sorry, I was leaving them to dry off.”
“And your coat on the floor.”
“Also drying.”
“Scarf, gloves—”
“Drying, drying—”
“Getting the carpet wet,” said Dad as he set the food on the night table. “You slay demons and save souls. How can you leave such a mess?”
“I’m sorry.” I reached for a lemon macaroon. “It was a crappy night.”
“What happened?”
“Someone stole our ghost.”
Dad went still for a moment, then reached for a cookie. “Did you get him or her back?”
“Them, and no. The bad guy took Zeke and Homer.”
“That was mean-spirited.” Dad took a bite of the macaroon.
Serge laughed.
I said, “You know I’m picking your retirement home, right?”
“I’m sorry.” Dad gestured to the bed. “Where’s Serge?” A second later his phone beeped. “Ah, okay.”
“I like texting to talk to the living,” said Serge as he moved out of the way and Dad sat down. “Makes me feel connected.”
Dad opened his mouth and I raised my hand. “I feel a dad pun coming, and I’m not in the mood.”
“I can’t help it,” said Dad. “In the last couple months, you’ve come head-to-head with two murderers, fought a demon, and seen the death of a child. I can’t help with any of it. All I can do is throw down terrible puns and fetch Nancy’s cookies.”
“That’s more than you think,” I said.
“Tell me everything that happened tonight.”
I did, glossing over the more dangerous parts and avoiding mention of The Voice. He worried enough, I didn’t need to give him details on what had happened to the woman he’d once loved.
When I finished, he asked,
“What’s your next move with the soul-eater?”
“Wait for Craig to bring us some intel, then proceed.”
“When is Craig back?” asked Dad.
“I’m not sure,” I said.
“There’s only one thing we can do until he arrives.” Dad stood. “Are you coming?”
✦ ✦ ✦
We stepped into the Tin Shack. For a moment, I wondered why Nell, Dad, and Craig figured food was the answer to all my problems. Then I saw the latest sundae promotion on the board and stopped wondering.
Dad pointed to the ice cream. “Caramel ice cream, fudge pieces, caramel sauce, chunks of Snickers and Mars bars, and pecans.” He squeezed my shoulder as he took off his glasses and wiped his eyes. “My girl, I think we just found the answer to world peace.”
“I’d go for the strawberry shortcake sundae,” said Serge. “Maybe the classic banana split.” His gaze swept the board. “It’s a good thing I’m not solid. I’d order one of everything.”
Dad read the texts. “Lean over mine and inhale.”
“Now that’s mean-spirited,” said Serge.
Dad grinned.
“Think we should get a table?” Serge asked.
I glanced at the eating area. The lineup to the cashier was solid but not packed, and there were a bunch of tables free. Still… “Not a bad idea.”
I left Dad to the ordering of world peace and got us a secluded table in the corner by the back. The only person near us was two tables ahead, buried behind a newspaper.
“Do you think one day I’ll be powerful enough to turn myself solid and eat?” asked Serge. “I miss food.”
I met his gaze.
“What?”
“You really are my soul-brother,” I spoke quietly so the person near us wouldn’t hear. “Of all the things you can be solid for, food is your number one pick.”
“Mashed potatoes and gravy.” His face went dreamy.
The person at the other table set down their newspaper. Oh, crap.
“Maggie Johnson,” said Principal Milton Larry.
The way he said my name was a trail of slime sliding along my spine. “Hello, sir.” I glanced at the cashier. Dad was next in line to be served.
“I see you’ve made headlines once again.” He gestured to the paper. “Another murder solved, thanks to your…ingenuity.”
I didn’t respond.
He stood, slope-shouldered, wispy-haired, and shuffled my way. The smell of his cheap cologne made my eyes water. “What a coincidence. Two murders in the last two months, and you’re at the centre of them.” His watery eyes took me in. “Funny, isn’t it, how death follows you. Death and destruction.” He leaned forward. “Did you ever give a thought to the ones left in your wake?”
“I could jolt his heart,” said Serge.
No electrocuting anyone.
Nothing too strong. Just enough to make him wet his pants.
Stop. But the thought of the high-and-mighty principal fleeing the Tin Shack with wet pants was enough to make me giggle. I stifled it, but Principal Larry caught the smile.
“Your reaction tells me everything I need to know.”
“Sorry, Mags,” said Serge.
“I see you for what you are,” Principal Larry hissed.
“What’s going on, Larry?” Dad came up to the table and dropped his jacket in the seat opposite mine.
“Hank.” The principal drew himself up. “I realize this isn’t the best place to have this conversation, but I think it’s time for you to look for another school for Maggie.”
“I don’t agree.”
“Yes, well, I’ve had conversations with some of the parents and staff, and they don’t feel comfortable having her there.”
“Who?”
Principal Larry smiled with the slippery twist of small people who enjoy lording their even smaller power over others. “I’m afraid that’s confidential.”
“Because it’s bull—” Dad glanced at me. “Maggie’s never broken any rules. There’s no reason for her to leave.”
“Our institution grooms a certain kind of person,” said Principal Larry. “One of high moral calibre and integrity.”
Dad snorted. “You mean like Kent Meagher, who sold drugs and was responsible for numerous overdoses in Edmonton.”
“—Maggie doesn’t fit—”
“My daughter found out who murdered two of your students.”
“She left devastation in her wake! People—good people—are smeared by the things she’s done, made guilty by association to the things she’s uncovered.”
Serge glanced at me. I shrugged. Having people talk about me like I wasn’t there was frustrating, and I wanted to stand up for myself. But Dad had a warrior’s look on his face, and I wasn’t about to wade into his war. Still, I wondered about what the principal said. His tone suggested he was one of the “smeared.” If that was the case, then it wasn’t smear. It was the truth and he deserved every dirty look tossed his way.
“Like you?” asked Dad. “Are you devastated by Reverend Popov’s death? The two of you were close.”
“He was a man of God, under extreme pressure.”
“If he starts talking about what a good guy the reverend was,” said Serge. “I’m going to go poltergeist and spew chunks his way.”
Gross, but I like the way you think.
“Spoken like a devotee,” said Dad. “My daughter uncovered the dirty secrets of some of this town’s upstanding citizens. Things that should have seen the light of day much sooner. Did you know, Larry? Did you know what the great and lauded reverend was doing to his son, to his wife?” Dad stepped close. “Did you know about what he did to Amber?”
“Amber.” The principal straightened. “There’s a perfect example. Now everyone knows what she did. She will be judged and condemned.”
“By who?” Dad unbuttoned the cuff of his shirt and rolled it up. “Who would dare blame Amber for what the reverend did to her?”
Principal Larry glanced down as Dad unbuttoned the other cuff, and he stepped back. “I think it’s better for Maggie to go somewhere else.”
“She’ll be at school tomorrow, and if I hear of anyone causing her trouble…”
“I can’t be held responsible for what other people choose to do!”
“Is that what you told yourself when Reverend Popov was beating Serge and abusing Amber?”
“How dare you!”
“I dare.”
The edges of Principal Larry’s mouth went white. “It’s you, isn’t it? You’re the one who’s been going around town, gossiping about me. Saying I knew about the reverend and did nothing!” Rage pushed him forward. “It’s because of people like you that I have to carry protection.”
Dad smiled. “I have better things to do than gossip about small people.”
“I’ll get to the bottom of this,” he said. “I’ll make you pay.”
“Get out of my face, Larry, and stay away from my daughter.”
The principal moved around Dad.
“In fact, stay away from all of our daughters,” Dad called after him.
Principal Larry froze for a moment, then scuttled to the exit.
“I don’t know if you should have done that,” I said, watching as the patrons of the restaurant set down their phones and picked up their burgers. “I’m pretty sure that whole thing was videoed.”
Dad took out his cell, looked at the screen, and laughed. “Just saw Serge’s text. I was trying not to vomit on Loser Larry, too.”
“Neat, right?” Serge grinned. “I’ve figured out how to text so only some of the living can get it. Now, I don’t have to be so careful when I’m talking in public.”
“You, without a filter,” I said. “That’s not scary.”
Tucking it back in his pocket, Dad said, “I don
’t care if the entire town caught me and the principal on video. There’s something off with him, and if it wasn’t for his family being the founders of this town, he would’ve been run out by now. His father got him the job of principal just so his idiot kid had something do in the morning. Everyone knows your vice-principal’s the one who does all the work.”
“Thanks for sticking up for me,” I said.
Dad smiled. “I suppose I might have been hard on him. I guess it’s not fair. He has no one. But I have you, my girl.”
“I love you too, Dad.”
He smiled.
“Especially when you come bearing food.”
“Remember these moments when you’re picking my nursing home. The food order should be ready by now. Let me check.” Dad turned, then stopped as Ralph, the owner of the Tin Shack walked up with a tray of food in his hand.
“Here you are.” He set it down. “And here you are.” He handed Dad a gift card for the restaurant.
“What’s this for?” asked Dad.
“For what you did with Larry.” Ralph’s face creased in disgust. “I’m sorry for what happened to the Popov kid—”
Serge looked up.
“—And I’m sorry for what his father did to him.”
“He was never my dad,” mumbled Serge.
“—But Serge terrorized my Mindy. Bullied her.”
Serge went white. “Mindy. I remember.”
“I heard she’s in a prep school in Edmonton,” I said.
Ralph nodded. “And in therapy. Between the school and the doctor, it’s expensive and we’re barely making ends meet, but it’s worth it to see her smile again.” He turned to me. “Don’t you let that jackass tear you down. Nobody said anything about not wanting you at the school. That’s just him being pissed because you took away his god and now he has no one to worship. People never liked the reverend or the principal, and with all the secrets surfacing, Larry can’t hide behind his family’s pedigree anymore. You’re a good girl, Maggie.” He nodded at us, then left.
“The principal’s wrong about you leaving destruction in your wake,” said Serge. “Ralph’s right, you’re a good person, Mags, you try to do right. When I was alive, all I did was hurt people. I’m sorry I won’t be able to make it up to Mindy. To everyone.”
