Scorched Souls (Chosen Book 3)

by Jeff Altabef

  “Really?” She bumps into my shoulder as she pulls back the willow branch.

  I follow her to the path and to Todd and Susan.

  Todd is roughly the size of a mountain. He’s the captain of the rugby team.

  “Is that you, Connor?” Susan squints her eyes. “What did you do to your hair? And who’s your new friend?” She puts her hands on her hips. A T-shirt fits snuggly over her generous curves, and a short skirt reaches only the top of her thighs. She always wears short skirts, no matter the weather.

  Juliet’s eyes wash over her and her voice simmers. “We just met. We’re not friends. I don’t know him.” She barrels past Susan, down the path back to the houseboat, and out of my life.

  “Juliet, wait!” I step toward her, but Todd blocks my way.

  “There’s a reward on your head.” He grins and cracks his knuckles. “They said you’re armed and dangerous, but I’m not worried.”

  Juliet

  My mind reels.

  I’m so stupid! I’m a giant naive idiot! What did I expect—that the stupid rock and the moonlight and the river were ours? That we owned them? He’s probably brought dozens of girls to that very spot. All of them pretty, with sparkling blue eyes and lush blonde hair and tiny miniskirts.

  I kick a rock, stop, and stare out at the river, but I don’t see the water. I see visions of Connor kissing that girl, his hands in her hair, his hands on her legs.

  Argh! I screech and the tree in front of me snaps down the middle, top to bottom. I need to get a grip, so I steady my breathing, and reason starts to crowd out the emotion.

  He has a right to a history. Why should I care about old girlfriends? I shouldn’t punish him because he has a past. We all have histories. He never denied having had girlfriends. Of course, he didn’t mention them either, and he did say there were no other girls for him but me.

  Just like that, the emotion storms back. I thought we could have had that rock and the moonlight and the river! One night, one moment—that’s all I needed. It could have been ours; it could have lasted forever. Now we’ll never have that unique, special time to cling to when all else is lost.

  Negative thoughts start to spin a dark web inside my mind.

  Maybe we’re not special together. Maybe I’m just one of many girls. Maybe he likes her more. Maybe he’ll find someone else tomorrow when I’m gone.

  Maybe.... Maybe....

  I wear myself out on maybes, and most of the anger evaporates. Not all, of course; I’m still angry, whether I should be or not. I know he didn’t make me any promises, and he didn’t lie to me. We never talked about old relationships. He never said I was the first to sit on that stupid rock with him, but it would have been nice—just one time—just this time.

  I sigh. What does it matter now anyway? I’ll be gone in the morning. Maybe it’s best this way.

  I bottle up the rest of my emotions and march back to the boat.

  Troy is sitting on the pier, holding a bucket of KFC in his lap.

  “What are you doing out here?” I ask him.

  He shrugs. “Just needed some fresh air.”

  He’s lying, of course. He’s waiting for me, still trying to protect me in his big brother way.

  He glances over my shoulder. “Where’s Connor?”

  I clench my hands into fists. “Back down the stupid path. On some stupid rock. Near the stupid river. We ran into some of his stupid friends.”

  “Oh... what happened?” He steps toward me. “Do you want me to beat him up? I’ll do it.” He lifts his hands into fists and playfully bends into a boxing stance.

  “We both know you’re really a big wuss.” I manage a half grin. “He didn’t do anything.” Then I wrap Troy in a tight hug, and tears trickle down my face. He thinks the tears are because of Connor, but they’re not—these tears are exclusively for Troy. I might never see him again, and suddenly everything is all too real.

  He’s always been at the center of my life. I’m stronger now, and can go on without him. It’s just that I’m going to miss him more than anything, and I don’t know how to go on without him. I need him to be safe. I need them all to be safe, and there’s no other way.

  “I don’t know what he did, but he likes you.” Troy smiles. “He likes you a lot.”

  I pull back from him and wipe the tears from my eyes. “Of course he does. I’m a real prize.” I chuckle. “Can’t you see?”

  He frowns and pushes the hair away from my face. “Yes, you are. You’ve always been special, even if you don’t realize it.”

  I push my head against his chest again and breathe him in. Memories flood through me—quiet times when we talked about nothing, which was really when we talked about everything; loud times when we did stupid things, like cliff diving from too high a ledge, or sneaking into the school late at night to goof around. I want to get lost in these memories, but I can’t. Not now. I need strength, so I push him away and take a mental photograph of his face, so I’ll never forget an inch of it.

  “It is good.” I tell him.

  He repeats the traditional Navajo saying.

  I turn away. New tears form at the corner of my eyes, but he’ll never see them fall, and he’ll never know they were for him.

  Connor

  Juliet marches down the path until she fades into the darkness and from my life. I’ll never catch up to her now. How did I screw things up this badly?

  Todd moves directly in front of me and cracks a dumb-looking grin across his flat face. “I’ve been wanting to do this for some time. Imagine my good fortune. Now the bobbies will pay me to pummel you.”

  “Move out of the way, or you’ll regret it.” I ball my hands into fists.

  “In what universe can you best me? I’m going to enjoy giving you a proper beating.” He darts forward and reaches for my waist in a rugby style tackle.

  He’s quick on his size thirteen feet, but I’m different now, and he looks like he moves in slow motion. I easily sidestep him and land a right hook against his blockhead.

  He falls arse over elbows, knocked out cold.

  Susan puts her hands on her hips and purses her lips. “What did you do?”

  “You saw it. He tried to hurt my fist with his rock-like head.”

  “You’re not funny.” She leans toward him. “You’d better go before I call the police.”

  I shake my head. “Come on, Susan. You can do better than Todd.”

  She looks up at me. “You mean better, like you? You’re fun, Connor, but you’re a mess. Always have been. And now the police are after you. Todd’s going to go to University and play rugby. He’s got a chance at making something out of his life.”

  “You’re right. Todd’s a better catch. Besides, I’m already spoken for.”

  She glances down the path and lifts an eyebrow. “You’d better hurry and catch up to her then. Looks like she’s properly riled up.”

  “Good luck with him,” I say and mean it. She deserves happiness. It’s unlikely she’ll find it with a prat like Todd, but who knows? Stranger things have happened.

  Juliet’s long gone, so I skulk back to the boat, feeling like the lowest creature on the planet—either a dung beetle or a Liverpool football hooligan.

  Troy is sitting on the pier eating from a bucket of KFC, an open bottle of wine next to him. “Looks like you screwed up,” he says. “What happened?”

  I settle next to him. “We ran into an old girlfriend of mine and Bob’s your uncle. How mad is she?”

  He shrugs. “She has a temper. On a scale of one to ten I’d say nuclear blast.”

  I drop my head and fold my shoulders. “How long until she’ll talk to me?”

  “Hard to say, but she has a big heart. Trust me, she’s forgiven a lot worse than an old girlfriend.” He hands me the wine.

  “I thought you didn’t drink?”

  “I usually don’t, but I figured you’d need some.”

  Connor

  My brain feels like it’s pounding. A giant, sw
eaty construction worker might as well be bashing it with a jackhammer into tiny painful pieces of rubble. I’m not a big believer in karma, but perhaps it’s real and my bad actions are finally catching up to me. I haven’t been the best person, and for the first time in my crummy life I wish I were different. Sure, the world threw-up on me when my parents died, but I’ve made bad choices, hurt people, and treated some shabbily who didn’t deserve it. Most of my bad acts can be traced directly to my drinking, but that was a choice, and I’d be fooling myself if I used it as an excuse. The booze only summoned the demons that lurked under the surface.

  Juliet deserves someone better.

  I need to change.

  I sit up and the pain ping-pongs between my temples. I try to ignore it, but each beat becomes more painful. Wishing away this hangover will only prolong my agony. I reach for a glass of water on the bedside table, miss horribly, and knock the cup on the floor.

  Glass shatters.

  Brilliant.

  My mouth feels like sand and my tongue like it’s coated in tar. I’d kill for some water and pain tablets.

  It must be morning because light streams through the window. Even in this damaged, hellish, I wish I were never born condition, one question ricochets through my stupid, worthless mind.

  Why did I take Juliet to that rock?

  We could have watched the river from a dozen other places.

  Why did I act like a complete idiot and take her to the one spot I always took girls? She’s nothing like any of those others. She’s more special than all of them put together. How am I going to make her believe that now?

  I roll my head and try to work out a crick in my neck. Good thing Troy was with me last night, or I would have really made a total mess of things. I tried to knock on her door and came so close with my hand raised, ready to totally stick a knife into any chance we have at being together. I even called out her name, no doubt slurred out her name like a drunken wanker, but Troy shepherded me into my cabin before I pounded on her door. Good thing.

  I’ve got to thank him.

  I look back at the night side table, hoping that by some miracle another glass of water would be waiting for me, but all my luck has run out. A little flash of white catches my attention. I squint until my eyes focus. It’s a paper swan.

  Was that there last night?

  I search my memory, but there could have been an elephant in the room last night, and I probably wouldn’t have noticed or remembered.

  I swing my legs out of the bed, remember to swipe the swan, and stagger from the cabin in search of water and pain tablets.

  “Oh there he is!” Blake bangs out two heavy chords on the keyboard. “Casanova, reborn.”

  I growl at him. “Touch that thing again and I’ll kill you.”

  I stumble into the kitchen and drink straight from the faucet like a dog. The water washes some of the tar from my tongue, but it’s not enough. My head still pounds as I stumble to the table where the others are hanging out.

  Akari is folding origami creatures, and Troy is busy stuffing the last bite of a McMuffin into his mouth.

  The door to Juliet’s cabin is closed.

  My stomach sours, and bile burns my throat.

  “She’s not in there,” Troy says.

  “Where is she?” I look out the window to see if she’s on the pier.

  Troy shrugs. “She left before any of us woke up.”

  I collapse into the chair next to Akari. “Well, I completely threw a spanner in the works last night. She hates me.” I hand her the swan from my room and clunk my head against the table. Not a good move—pain knifes through my skull and carves its way down my stiff neck.

  “I’m surprised you know origami, Connor.” Akari examines the paper creature. “I like the swan.”

  I lift my head. “It’s not mine. I thought you made it.”

  Troy leans over Akari’s shoulder and grabs the paper bird. “Juliet made it. It’s a note for you.” He hands me the paper.

  “How do you know?”

  “Juliet and her grandfather used a secret message system. He’d make her a swan like this one and she’d know there was a note inside.”

  I stare at the precisely folded paper, dreading the thought of opening it. It feels like bad news.

  “Well, aren’t you going to read it?” Blake leans forward.

  I swallow the lump in my throat and unfold the bird.

  Dear Connor,

  I have to leave. Don’t blame yourself. It’s not your fault.

  I’ll try not to mix up the stars.

  It is good.

  Love,

  Juliet

  I glance at Troy. “What does she mean by, ‘It is good?’”

  He lowers his head and whispers, his voice coarse. “That’s how the Navajo say goodbye.”

  Juliet

  I felt like a thief when I slipped away at first light. I thought about writing Troy a note, but I want our hug to be the last connection between us. It said more than I could ever express in words.

  When he learns that I’ve left, he’ll know that embrace was for him, my final goodbye. He’ll also realize I haven’t snuck away into hiding. He’ll figure out that I’ve gone to confront the Prime Elector on my own. He won’t like it and will try to stop me somehow, but he’ll be too late, and he has no idea where to look for me.

  I wander throughout Hampton Court Palace like a zombie, aimlessly stumbling among the brick buildings and the tall spires.

  The palace operated as a walled city with nooks and crannies where bakers and smithies and soldiers worked together. It would be fascinating if I were paying attention. They even have actors walking around in traditional garb. King Henry the VII made an appearance in the Courtyard. I think I was supposed to curtsey, but everything is dimmed in a haze.

  I’m sitting on a bench overlooking one of two sunken gardens, each with the same rectangular shape. Flowers ring the outside while lush grass grows in the center. When these gardens were first built, the grass area was actually a fountain that contained exotic fish.

  I’m an endless source of useless facts these days. I researched the palace on Blake’s laptop last night and probably know every bit of public knowledge about this place, none of which will help me when I face the Prime Elector.

  The massive clock on the tower shows the time: 11:55. I’ve come this far, so might as well be on time.

  Four Deltites walk the palace grounds with me, keeping a respectful distance.

  I don’t need to search for their signals anymore to find them; my mind does it on autopilot. I trudge by them, barely glancing in their direction, and walk past the oldest and largest grapevine in the world, and toward the hedge maze. Built around 1700, over 350,000 people visit the massive seven-foot hedge maze each year. It’s a busy tourist attraction, which is why Jared stands outside the entrance. He’s dressed in an official looking uniform, which makes it appear as if he works at the palace. A couple pushing a stroller approach him, and he shoos them away.

  Great. I’ll be alone with the Prime Elector.

  Jared sees me, grins smugly, and sweeps his hand toward the entrance in a grand gesture.

  I don’t bother to look at him—he’s not important now. My attention focuses on the Prime Elector.

  He’s in the middle of the maze, his aura so intense it seems as if a bonfire blazes at the center.

  I could find him blindfolded.

  I stop before the final turn to calm my nerves. My heart races and my breath comes in gulps. I will finally meet him. It seems like my whole life has been leading me to this moment. Part of me hopes he’s a monster, someone as sick as Gagarin so I can hate him.

  I so desperately want to hate him.

  I turn the corner, and am suddenly paralyzed.

  He smiles at me—definitely not the smile of a monster.

  Connor

  How could she have left?

  I open the door to her cabin just to make sure she’s not there. My soul has bee
n sucked out of me. Barely able to walk, I plop into a chair at the table.

  “Well, what are we going to do now?” asks Blake. “Juliet was the one who knew how to find the Prime Elector. Did she tell anyone?”

  No one answers.

  “We have to find her,” says Troy. “She’ll confront the Prime Elector without us.”

  “That’s bloody insane,” I say. “Why would she do that?” My skull aches. The pain knifes into my neck, down my shoulders and into my chest. I have a hard time breathing. The note is rubbish. This is my fault. I’ve ruined everything.

  “Maybe something else is at play,” says Blake. “I don’t want to mention it, but the Deltites did capture her brain waves. Maybe they’re controlling her? They could have persuaded her to change sides. I mean—she was acting weird yesterday.”

  Troy practically growls at him. “There’s no way she’d betray us for dark spirits.”

  I hate myself, but a whisper of doubt rolls through my mind. Juliet was acting odd last night. Didn’t she talk about having reservations by the river? A foggy memory forms on the edge of my thoughts—Did she say the Prime Elector wasn’t bad?

  Blake presses on. “Well, who saw her last?”

  ‘I guess I did,” says Troy. “Right before she stormed into her room.”

  “Did she give you any clue where she might go?”

  “No.” He punches the table. The veins on his neck pulse, and he looks as if he’ll explode at any second.

  “I saw her after that,” says Akari. “I woke up in the middle of the night and heard someone in the kitchen. She was using Blake’s computer. She didn’t notice me. She looked busy, so I went back to bed without talking to her.”

  Blake grins and opens his laptop. “Everyone leaves behind a digital footprint. Let’s see if Juliet left us a digital trail of breadcrumbs so we can figure out what she’s up to.”

  “Breadcrumbs?” asks Akari.

  “Hansel and Gretel?” Blake looks at her with arched eyebrows. “No?”

  When Akari shakes her head, he says, “Must not be popular in Japan. Every search leaves a trace. We can simply look at the search history on the computer. Let’s hope she’s not into porn like Connor.”