Deception - Episode 3 (Lost Souls)

by Laurel O'Donnell

  “I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.” She began to open the door.

  Ben fazed and closed it.

  “It should have been my decision. And that was taken away from me. Both times. And both times by Eugene.”

  “It seems to some like you’re picking Damien over Eugene.”

  Sam rolled her eyes. “I’m not picking one over the other. I don’t trust either one of them.” She smiled.

  “Sam.”

  “I can’t, Ben. I just can’t forgive him. Not now. Maybe some day.” She shook her head. “But not right now.”

  Ben nodded in understanding. He stepped out of Sam’s way and headed around to the other side of the car. “He’s got a lead on Cora.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Christian was quiet for a moment. “Look, I don’t want to pry or anything. But Cora… What happened to her?”

  Ben thought about his little sister. Cora’s brown eyes had always been so innocent. She had been more level headed and rational than he or Sam. The other Souls used to take bets on which of the three of them would change first. Of course, each one of them thought it would be the other. Except for Cora. She never hedged a bet. She never encouraged it. “I don’t really know,” Ben finally responded to Christian. “Cora was, well, she was always the kind one, the most motherly. We all looked out for each other, but it was Cora that smoothed things out when it got heated. Maybe she knew. Maybe she felt the change coming. About a year ago, she started taking these walks. At first they were no big deal. We thought she just wanted some space. Some time to be alone. She certainly deserved it. But then she started to go for a full day and then two. Until it was not uncommon for her to be gone days at a stretch. Sam and I were concerned. We felt she was pulling away. One day when she hadn’t returned for over a week, we went looking for her.” Ben looked out the window, staring but seeing nothing. “Sam found her. She had Changed.”

  Lost Souls: Deception

  Prologue

  1987

  Rose Grimes knelt beside Robert Monroe’s prone body on the stage of the theater. “What’s here?” she wondered. “A cup closed in my true love’s hand? Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end.”

  Around her, the stage was bathed in dark light for this the final scene of Romeo and Juliet. “O churl! Drunk all and left no friendly drop to help me after? I will kiss thy lips, haply some poison yet doth hang on them to make die with a restorative.” Rose leaned forward. She stroked his cheek in anguish before pressing her lips to his. A sob tore through her body. “Thy lips are warm.”

  From off the stage, Gil called “Lead, boy! Which way?”

  Rose glanced toward the direction of Gil’s voice. “Yea, noise?” She looked back at Robert and tears entered her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. She hugged him fiercely. “Then I’ll be brief.” She picked up his dagger. “O happy dagger!” She held it in both hands and pulled it hard toward herself. “This is thy sheath.” Of course, it wasn’t a real dagger. And it didn’t really stab her, but she imagined how she would feel if it had and contorted her face in an anguished grimace. “There rust and let me die.”

  Rose collapsed against Robert’s body. Gil entered the stage and, as the other actors followed, found Rose and Robert. As they each said their lines, Rose peeked out between narrowed eyelids. The seats of the theater were empty except for the director, Mitch Overheart, his assistant Jody Bening, and the assistant producer Jack Withering. It was their last practice, the final dress rehearsal. Tomorrow the show would have its grand opening.

  Rose was so very excited. She had worked tirelessly for years, studying her craft, preparing for this moment. The theater was her home. It was everything to her. It was all she had. Even before she had gotten up the nerve to audition, she had worked behind the scenes on sets and lighting and make-up, all the while watching, learning. And now, being on stage, she knew it was where she belonged. It was all she had ever wanted.

  As the last lines were said, Mitch nodded his head and stood up. “Curtain call. Blah blah. Gil, I want you to be more intense.”

  Rose sat up and Robert helped her to her feet. She murmured a thank you. Robert was spectacular! He was a perfect Romeo, full of energy, and very attractive.

  Mitch gave them all a few final directions and told them what time to report tomorrow. Of course, Rose knew she would be early, as she always was.

  All of the actors headed toward their dressing rooms to change out of their wardrobe. She exchanged excited congrats with the other actresses. They were all nervous and energized. Tomorrow was going to be a huge day for all of them.

  She took her time undressing, folding her clothes and placing them carefully on hangers and in drawers. Rose took meticulous care of her costume. She was always one of the last to leave. But she didn’t mind. This was her home. She finished undressing and started to put on her normal clothes. She still felt a flush of raw excitement racing through her as she donned her jeans. Tomorrow was going to be magical! She just knew it. She finished buttoning her shirt and opened her dressing room door. She always opened it after she put her street clothes back on, welcoming any of the cast or crew to stop by if they were still around. She moved back to the large mirror by her make-up chair and gave her hair a quick brush.

  Jack knocked on the open door.

  Rose looked up as he entered.

  His stocky build made him look portly. His brown hair fell to his shoulders, accenting his thick beard. “You did great!” Jack said.

  She blushed. “Thanks, Jack.” She had never been good with compliments. “Why are you here so late?”

  “I wanted…to speak to you.”

  Rose scowled. “About what?” Concern almost overwhelmed her. “Did I do something wrong?”

  “No. No.” Jack sat on a couch. “Here. Sit here.”

  Rose set her brush down and sat beside Jack. “What is it?”

  “Well… I wanted to talk to you about your portrayal of Juliet.”

  Rose scowled. Why wasn’t Mitch talking to her? It really wasn’t Jack’s place. Maybe Mitch had asked him to speak to her. “What about it?”

  “Juliet. She is a very sensual character.” He ran a finger over her knee. “I thought we could work on that.” He met her gaze.

  Rose scowled.

  “I could help with your career, Rose. You want that, don’t you?” He leaned toward her. “Mitch is going to retire after directing this play, and then I’ll be the real boss around here.”

  “No!” Rose shot to her feet. “This isn’t right, Jack. I just don’t think –”

  Jack stood, following her. “You’d better think before you answer. I always get what I want.”

  Rose gaped for a moment. He leaned toward her, his lips puckered. Rose stepped away from him. “Get out.”

  He moved closer to her. “I don’t think so.”

  Shocked, Rose turned to run for the door. This can’t be happening.

  Jack grabbed her hair.

  Pain shot through her head as he pulled her back into the room hard. She cried out as she fell to the floor.

  He fell on top of her, ripping her shirt open. “Scream all you want. There’s no one left but us.”

  Rose fought him, hitting and screaming. But no one came to her rescue. He was right. They were alone. And he was far too strong for her to fight off.

  Jack sat up as she pummeled him with her hands. He caught both of her hands and held them in one hand as he unzipped his pants, forcing her legs open with his knees.

  “No!” It was all Rose could think of. “No! Stop!”

  Jack grabbed her neck and held her down. “Stop fighting!” he growled. “Just give me what I want and we can both go about our business.” He pushed her skirt up.

  She twisted one arm free and clawed at his face, leaving three vicious scratches.

  “Bitch!” His grip around her neck tightened.

  She clawed at his arm, fighting for a breath of air. His grip was painful and she couldn’t breathe. She trie
d to scream, but nothing came out. His hand constricted around her neck. Panicked for lack of air, Rose fought hard, bucking and pushing and clawing at him.

  Jack released her one arm and used both of his hands around her neck to hold her down. “Stop. Fighting.” He pushed her down with his hands on her throat.

  She gaped. She couldn’t breathe! She bucked and twisted and hit him. Desperate. She couldn’t take a breath! She couldn’t…

  Suddenly, Rose found herself standing beside him, looked down in horror at her own glazed open eyes. Her eyes! She stared at her own half curled fingers as her hand fell from his arm to lay limply on the ground.

  Jack held her down. When the fight left her, he smiled. “That’s it. Now you’ve come to your senses.” He reached down and ripped her underpants.

  “Stop!” she yelled. “Stop it!” She tried to push him off, but her hands went right through him. She stumbled and pulled back, stunned. She looked at her hands in shock.

  He entered her and pumped into her, banging himself into her, still holding her around the neck with both hands.

  Rose stared at Jack. She reached out and tried to touch him again, but her hand moved into him. She yanked it back quickly.

  It took a moment until Jack looked at her face. “Shit,” he murmured, but he didn’t stop. He finished and then pulled out of her, zipping his pants. “Rose?” he called to her. He shook her leg. She didn’t move. He pulled back to stare down at her. “Come on, Rose. Get up.” But she lay with open eyes, staring with an empty gaze at the ceiling. “It wasn’t so bad. Rose. Rose!” He shook her and her leg flopped to the side. “Damn bitch.” He stood, running his hands through his hair, and paced back and forth before her.

  Rose stared at her body. Her skirt was bunched up above her thighs, her top open to reveal her bra. It was her. But how? How could that be? She was standing here. Rose mentally willed herself back into her body. She had to tell the police what happened. This bastard couldn’t get away with this.

  Suddenly, in the corner of the room, Rose saw a light. A bright light. Slowly, the most beautiful woman she had ever seen appeared. Golden hair hung to her waist. A white gauzy dress blew in an imaginary breeze. A gentle smile curved her lips as she lifted a hand, palm up, to Rose and beckoned her.

  An incredible need to accompany her washed over Rose. She wanted to be with this peaceful woman. She took a step toward her.

  Jack picked up her body and left the room.

  Rose hesitated, glancing back at Jack. She couldn’t let him get away with this. Someone had to know. Someone had to tell her mother what happened. She would go to the police and then come back and go with the woman. She held up a finger. “I’ll be right back,” she promised the glowing woman.

  But Rose never went back.

  Chapter One

  Present Day

  “Ben!” Lucas Williamson clasped Ben’s hand and pulled him into a bear hug. Lucas was six foot three, a little taller than Ben. He was very muscular, and speculation among some of the Souls was that Lucas had been a weight lifter in his human life. He had a moppy head of brown hair and a slim face.

  Lucas turned to Sam and held open his arms. “Still packing that iron blade, eh?” he said, glancing at the top of the sheathed sword extending above her back.

  “Never leave home without it.” Sam came up to Lucas’s shoulder with her heels on. The leather she wore fit her like a glove and allowed her to move freely. It was laced with iron threads, acting as an armored shell, and making it easier to interact with the human world. Her long dark hair fell to her lower back. If she thought there was going to be a fight, she would pull it back into a ponytail. She rolled her eyes and leaned into his hug. He completely engulfed her in his fierce embrace.

  Ben noticed the slight grin on her lips. She didn’t let everyone hug her like that, but Lucas was hard for anyone to resist.

  “Lucas, this is Christian,” Ben introduced the third member of their group as Sam and Lucas separated. “He’s working with us.”

  Christian was a few inches shorter than Ben. His blonde hair was short and he wore a blue t-shirt and jeans.

  Lucas shook Christian’s hand, his gaze sweeping him. “A Freshie? How’d you get stuck with this one?”

  Christian scowled and held out his hands, palm up, in confusion. “How can you tell?”

  “No armor,” Lucas clarified, poking a finger into Christian’s plain cotton t-shirt.

  “Yet,” Christian said, accenting his comment with a raised finger.

  Ben looked around the tiny room. It was a one bedroom apartment and the four of them stood in the center of the living room. A small, old television was positioned near the window, a brown couch before it. Against the wall was a desk with a new computer on it. The chair was pushed in. A small kitchen with an oven, refrigerator and very little counter space was mere steps behind them. A hallway led to the bedroom and bathroom.

  “Where’s your human?” Sam wondered.

  “Esme.” Lucas glanced down the hall. “She’s sleeping. It’s late for humans, you know?”

  “How are you connected to this… to Esme?” Christian asked.

  Lucas grinned and ran a hand through his hair. “It’s not really what you think. I didn’t know Esme at all when I was living.”

  “How long have you been dead?”

  Lucas glanced at Sam. “He doesn’t sugar coat things, does he?”

  Sam winced. “He’ll learn.”

  “We usually ask how long they’ve been a Soul,” Ben clarified. “Sounds better than being dead.”

  “I mean, if I was dead, I could be a zombie or something,” Lucas chuckled.

  “There are zombies?” Christian gasped.

  Sam released an exasperated sigh and walked to the far side of the room where pictures hung on the wall.

  Ben knew Sam was trying not to be so rough on Christian, but sometimes it was hard for her. His new status and ignorance of their world was tough for her to take. She never had a lot of patience.

  Lucas laughed a rich, rolling sound. “Not that I’ve ever encountered.” When his laughter died, he glanced at the hallway. “I’ve been a Soul for almost three hundred years. I fought some of those energy suckers with Sam and Ben. We had some good times, right?”

  Ben nodded, thinking back. Back when Lucas fought with them, they simply kept disintegrating the Changed. The Changed didn’t die when they disintegrated, but their energy faded with each disintegration. If they struck them enough times, the Changed usually gave up and moved on. It was never a satisfying victory, but they had fought them as best they could. Lucas had loved to swipe at them with anything iron. He had tried a small letter opener once. That particular tactic hadn’t worked out well. The only way to disintegrate a Changed was to hit them with some solid iron. But now, after they had given Sam’s theory a chance, they knew how to completely annihilate a Changed and prevent them from ever coming back.

  Sam’s gaze softened with fondness.

  “Yeah,” Lucas nodded, getting a little wistful. “I worked with other Souls, too. It wasn’t until about seven years ago that I was drawn to this town. Youngstown Ohio. Who would ever want to come here?” He shook his head. “It’s boring! There’s an art museum. Saw it about fifty times. A mill. A steel museum.” Lucas shrugged. “And yet, I would always want to come back. I wasn’t sure why. It was purely by coincidence I happened to glance at a paper one day. Esme was being honored for an article she wrote on time and space dimensions. When I attended the dinner, I overheard some of the other humans talking about Esme as though she was a raving lunatic. They were saying she was trying to speak to ghosts. Well, of course, that got my interest. She invented some sort of machine she was trying to talk to ghosts with. I guess the ghost hunters out there thought she was a genius.”

  “Like a Ouija board?” Christian wondered, doubt in his voice.

  Lucas’s lip turned up in a grin, but there was a hardness around his eyes. “That was the type of comments the humans
made. But I can talk to her with the machine. She can’t see me, but she can hear me. The machine takes a lot of energy to use.”

  “It’s more than that,” Ben said to Christian. He leaned back against the wall. “Sam and I think Lucas and Esme have some sort of connection. Maybe the same type of energy. We think that’s why he was drawn to Youngstown.”

  Lucas shrugged. “Whatever the case, I feel comfortable here. There’s an energy that is warm and inviting here. With Esme.”

  Sam walked around the room, inspecting a magazine on the couch, staring at items on the desk. “The machine only works for Lucas. No one else can talk to Esme.”

  “Why?” Christian asked.

  “Don’t know,” Lucas said. “Ben’s tried. So has Sam. I was praying that didn’t work.”

  “Hey!” Sam exclaimed with insult.

  Lucas held up his hands. “No offense, but the last thing Esme needed was a sarcastic ghost.”

  Sam grimaced. “And since Lucas won’t let anyone take the machine, we can’t see if it can be replicated.”

  “What if they break it?” Lucas demanded.

  “So we haven’t told anybody about the machine,” Ben said. “The only ones that know about it are me, Sam, you… and Cora.”

  Lucas nodded, sobering.

  “You saw her?” Ben asked.

  “She was here. I’m so sorry, Ben. Sam. I really am.”

  “She was a Changed?”

  Lucas nodded. “There was no doubt.”

  Sam didn’t look up from the single flower on the desk. “What happened?”

  Lucas hesitated, pursing his lips. He looked down and a lock of his brown hair fell forward. “I had been talking with Esme on the machine, so I wasn’t up to full power. Cora fazed in. I wasn’t prepared. I wasn’t ready. I was already weak from talking to Esme. Cora drained me. If it hadn’t been for Esme…”

  Sam looked up, a scowl on her forehead.