02 Awaken-The Soulkeepers

by Adams, Lori

  “But how … I’m confused, Michael. Raph told me your parents will be there, so how can we go together?”

  Michael’s eyes narrow. “Why were you and Raph talking about the dance?”

  “What? Oh, I don’t know. Everybody was talking about it. He said you guys never go.”

  “We don’t but our parents do. There is a lot of local and state politics that goes on there.”

  “Like on golf courses?”

  “Something like that. And I thought you and I could go. We just couldn’t show up together together. But we could dance.” He smiles encouragingly, and I consider.

  “But to avoid suspicion, you would have to dance with other girls, too, wouldn’t you?”

  Michael nods. His face is grave.

  “What a sacrifice,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Well, I suppose I’ll have to dance with other guys then.” I sigh like it’s a chore. I’m teasing, of course, but Michael doesn’t share my humor.

  His eyes blaze and he jerks me against him. He buries his face in my hair and then his lips move down my throat, his teeth scraping along my skin before sinking into the long thin muscle. I gasp and shiver from the effect. It hurts but then the pain turns to pleasure, and I close my eyes and go soft in his arms. Michael growls deep in his throat, kissing violently until he reaches my mouth.

  He kisses deep and hard, pausing only when the sparks ignite. Then he bites my bottom lip, almost drawing blood, and I cry out inside his mouth. His arms tighten around me and he doesn’t stop kissing. Demanding and devouring, I try to relax and enjoy it but Michael has become aggressive, as though enraged by something. I want to push away but end up clutching his jacket and matching his need.

  His tongue caresses mine, and the sparks snap and sting, and I flinch. They are seriously starting to hurt.

  Then comes the familiar sensation throughout my body; all my blood is rushing back to my heart. My arms and legs tingle from the sudden loss of blood. It’s almost time to stop … but … Michael isn’t slowing down.

  He’ll stop any moment. Like he always does. He knows when to stop now.

  Michael moans and deepens the kiss. The pulling is stronger and my heart is raging out of control. It slams against my chest. Michael’s energy, his desire, is sucking the air from my lungs.

  Stop, Michael! Why aren’t you stopping?

  I struggle against him but he won’t release me. Without breaking our kiss, he presses me down onto the frozen waterfall. His warm hand slides inside my shirt and across my chest. He squeezes and groans, and my eyes fly open. My vision is white around the edges. The buzzing in my head says we’re too late. I’m going to faint, again.

  With a hard burst of energy, I push Michael away. His eyes pop open, startled. Again, one of them seems darker than the other but I can’t think about it now. My head is swimming and my vision is blurring.

  Michael is panting, his face stricken with worry. He clutches my shoulders, sitting me up. “Stay with me, Sophia! Stay with me!”

  My head flops back and darkness shrouds my vision.

  * * *

  Tiny drops of water sprinkle my face, making me twitch. I blink and come around. Michael is patting my cheek. He murmurs my name, and I open my eyes. I have the mother of all headaches.

  I’m not sure which emotion to act on first. I’m confused and pissed as hell. I gingerly sit up.

  We’re back in the sleigh, still parked at the waterfall. I’m wrapped in the plaid blanket.

  “How long?” I ask, meaning how long was I out this time. I look at him when he doesn’t answer. I’m ready to unleash my anger but his eyes are shimmering prisms. He has received a call.

  Damnit, not now!

  I reach for him but he jumps from the sleigh.

  “Michael, wait!” I yell and then grimace. My head is going to explode!

  “David will take you home,” Michael says, his voice choking. He’s torn, distraught. He glances toward the trees. “I—” He turns and sprints and then disappears in a flash of blue light.

  Chapter 5

  Michael

  The school bus laid in a ditch, hissing like a dying beast. Young bodies were sprawled across the frozen road illuminated by flashing red and blue lights from the highway patrol, two fire engines, and three ambulances. Paramedics and EMTs rushed in every direction, overwhelmed with the magnitude of wounded. Raph and Gabe stood aside in spirit form, methodically assessing the damage.

  Raph moved among the children who just hours ago sang Christmas carols at the Danbury Fair Mall. He sensed their needs, honing in on one. Head injury, concussion, the brain already swelling. He placed a hand to the boy’s forehead, meditated, and drew out the injury like a thin silvery ribbon.

  Gabe knelt beside a little girl groaning in pain. An EMT crooned to her while brushing his hands along her body, checking for injuries.

  The rib cage. Gabe pushed his thoughts into the man’s head. Get her on the backboard. Gently. Her rib is broken and will puncture the liver if you’re not careful.

  The EMT quoted his concerns to his partner, and together they followed Gabe’s silent dictation.

  Raph sprang to his feet and spun around. Two paramedics were bent over the bus driver. The first medic said, “Work him up,” and the second quickly cut away the driver’s sweater and attached twelve electrode pads to his chest, connecting him to a heart monitor. It registered faint, erratic heartbeats—signs of a heart attack. The first medic started an IV in the man’s limp arm while his partner prepared to insert a tube down the driver’s throat. Then the monitor’s alarm went off. “We’re losing him!” the second medic snapped as he began CPR.

  While the medic pumped the man’s chest, Raph flashed closer and looked down at the driver: Sixty-five-year-old male. Heart attack. Lost control of the bus. Slid on the ice. Hit the culvert, rolled, and plunged into the ditch.

  A burst of blue light flashed down the road, and then Michael emerged from the epicenter, marching in hard, powerful strides. He was furious and worried, his energy radiating off his skin. His translucent eyes raced over the scene, and he knew instantly: twenty-four children—fifteen female, nine male. All under twelve. Two adult females. No life-threatening injuries remained.

  “Where have you been?” Raph demanded, walking over. His prism eyes blazed with rage.

  Michael brushed past him without answering. “You have her?” he asked Gabe, who was crouched by the girl.

  Raph was on his heels, yelling and pointing to the dead driver. “We lost one! It wasn’t his time yet!”

  Michael stepped back as though he’d been sucker punched. Then he whipped around and headed for the bus driver. He hadn’t sensed the victim because the heart had already stopped beating.

  Michael glared at the paramedic, who had decided the bus driver was beyond help. “Try again!” he yelled.

  “What are you doing?” Raph grabbed Michael’s arm. “It’s too late! You’ve lost him!”

  Michael jerked free. “Keep trying!” he shouted into the medic’s head.

  “He’s gone, Michael! It’s too late! You were too late!”

  Michael grabbed Raph by the collar. “Do not tell me it’s too late!”

  “It is too late!” Gabe said. “He’s already here.”

  Michael shoved Raph away and swung around. The faint imprint of the bus driver, Jimmy Doogan, was standing in the road. He appeared stunned and bewildered by the scene, all those children in his care, bleeding and crying. He grimaced and wiped away a tear that wasn’t there.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Michael demanded, startling Jimmy. He stalked over and took the bus driver by the arm, yanking him across the road. “Get back in there!” Michael yelled, shoving Jimmy toward his dead body.

  It was a desperate move, and Michael felt himself spiraling out of control. He’d never lost a soul before its time, and he’d be damned if he’d let one slip through now.

  “Use the defbrillator!” Michael yelled into the medic’s head. “Try
again! Try again! Try—”

  “Stop!” Gabe shouted. “You’ll scar that medic for life, Michael! He’ll think he didn’t try hard enough! He’ll think—”

  “He didn’t!” Michael yelled, pushing past his brother. Using his newly discovered manipulation, Michael narrowed his concentration and forced his energy onto the medic. The guy looked at his partner and then the bus driver. He frowned and glanced at the defibrillator with indecision. “Push the button!”

  As if in a trance, the paramedic mumbled “Clear,” and then reached over to push the button.

  “What are you doing?” his partner grabbed his arm. “I’ve got the epinephrine ready.”

  “I think … I don’t know. I think I’ve got to shock him.” He pushed the button and the bus driver’s chest spasm. They watched the monitor but nothing changed.

  “Again! Try again! Don’t stop!”

  “I think I’d like to stay,” Jimmy Doogan’s imprint said. “Please, I want to go with you. It’s so warm and peaceful and …” He looked up at the night sky beginning to swirl above his head. “I … want to … know …”

  “It’s not your time yet, Jimmy.”

  Gabe sucked in a breath. “You can’t tell him that! You know it’s forbidden!”

  “We’re wasting time here,” Raph growled, glancing around. “The longer that imprint is here, the more likely we’ll have reapers or soul seekers raining down on us. I like destroying them as much as the next guardian, but we’ve got a lot of kids in pain here. Michael, you have to take the bus driver home. He was your responsibility. You blew it. Escort him home, now.”

  Michael’s temper flared. This couldn’t be happening, not when he’d worked so hard to save every soul. Jimmy Doogan was a good man! He didn’t deserve to have his life cut short!

  And what about the winter trials? The Halos would be notified if Michael lost a soul. It would be over. Everything he wanted. Gone. Not to mention his pride. Michael couldn’t bare the humiliation of telling Sophia what happened. He couldn’t let it happen.

  Just as he stepped toward the paramedic, intent on yelling another instruction, Michael sensed an intrusion. He turned around to a figure walking up the road. A good-looking guy, about twenty-five with shoulder-length brown hair. He wore a brown leather jacket and jeans.

  “Hey, guys, remember me?”

  Raph walked closer, eyeing the guy who appeared in spirit form. He seemed cool, like an old friend. But something was off. “You sound familiar.”

  “Yeah, but I picked up some new duds this time.” He smiled and spread his arms. “No more grungy jeans and T-shirt. Not too shabby, huh?” He ran his hand over his soft leather sleeve.

  “Degan,” Raph spit out the name with disgust. “You just can’t take a hint, can you?” The last time Raph and his brothers had seen the soul seeker lurking around a car accident, Raph had the pleasure of snapping Degan’s neck and sending him back to Hell.

  Degan threw his head back and laughed. “Aw, c’mon, guys, you knew I’d snag another body as soon as I could. Besides, we’re all working stiffs here. No pun intended.” He grinned. “You know, I really hated that grungy body I was in. So I wanted to stop by and say thanks for killing me—I was due for a change—and might I possibly pick up a little roadkill while out and about? It’s nearly Christmas, after all.” He gave Raph a crafty smile, and then his eyes cut to Jimmy Doogan’s imprint.

  “You really think you’re getting past the three of us?” Michael asked dispassionately.

  At that moment, Jimmy’s imprint began to make an odd oohing noise. Degan curled his hands in anticipation. If he could only touch the imprint, it was his to Take.

  Jimmy’s eyes widened in surprise at the same moment the medic hit the defibrillator again. The monitor registered a sharp spike just as Jimmy’s imprint was sucked back into his body like a vacuum. The monitor fluttered and then continued in a steady rhythm.

  Michael smirked at Degan while Jimmy’s heartbeat grew stronger. “Sorry, but you’re shit out of luck.” He was being a smartass but what he really wanted to do was exhale with relief, to stumble away and collapse from sheer exhaustion. That was a close call he never wanted to repeat.

  “Hmm.” Degan scowled and shoved his hands into his front pockets. “I’ll be damned. Mind telling me how that happened?” He caught Michael glaring at him and raised his hands. “Whoa. Never mind. Not my problem.” He laughed. “You don’t have to explain your freaky shit to me. Now, him on the other hand …” He pointed toward the trees where Dimitri Patronus stood, watching his sons work.

  Chapter 6

  The Inside of All Things Out

  I’m sitting in bio and have written two pages of notes but have no idea what they say. My hand is on autopilot and my mind is on Michael. I haven’t seen or heard from him since he left me—abandoned me—in the middle of creation last night. He said David would take me home, and he did. But still.

  I dart a look at Raph, whom I’ve caught watching me surreptitiously throughout class. He doesn’t smile like he usually does, so I know he’s curious. I worry that he’s growing suspicious of Michael and me. I try not to make eye contact for too long. Michael said his brothers have trouble reading my emotions if they can’t look me in the eye. I’m on guard. Especially today when I’m preoccupied with thoughts of Michael.

  I fiddle with my pen and try to cook up a reason to interrogate Raph about Michael’s whereabouts. Then Mr. Wagner says five words I’ve never heard before, “When we dissect the body …,” and I flinch and my pen flies out of my hand. Raph snags it out of the air, and our eyes lock. I gasp at his quick reaction, and the room falls quiet.

  “Is there a problem?” Mr. Wagner turns from the board, where I realize he has been divulging a plethora of information that I’ve been tuning out.

  Raph hands over my pen, and I lean forward and whisper, “Did he say, ‘When we dissect the body’?”

  “Yes, I did,” Mr. Wagner answers impatiently.

  I slide down in my seat and feel my armpits tingle with sweat.

  What body? A frog? Are we dissecting a frog? Why doesn’t he just say frog, then. Maybe it’s a pig. Maybe—

  “Miss St. James? Is there a problem?”

  Everybody is staring, and I look at Bailey. She understands that I’ve been caught unaware and is biting her lips together to stop from laughing. Her eyes bulge, begging me not to speak but I have to.

  “Well, I guess I don’t understand what we’re really dissecting.”

  Mr. Wagner twitches like he’s had ice dropped down his shirt. “You don’t understand? We’ve been talking about the evaluation of the human body all semester. We’ve discussed our future journey through tissue, veins, organs, and the general body cavity as a way to realistically encounter human life. Have you paid attention at all?”

  I grimace and shrug. “I thought you were speaking metaphorically.” Somebody snickers, and then the whole class groans at—what Mom would have called—my lack of intellectual fortitude. I’m the only one who didn’t realize we were dissecting a real body, that we were on standby for an impromptu field trip to the morgue.

  Apparently, Christmas came early for Mr. Wagner in the form of a dead body, and we’re off to the New Haven Hospital morgue.

  Oh, what fresh Yuletide hell is this?

  So after lunch, the entire bio class clomps across the snowy parking lot. “All aboard the poor man’s limo,” Bailey grumbles, leading the way up the bus stairs. I’ve given up on seeing Michael today or discreetly discovering his whereabouts from Raph. I’d hate for him to become more suspicious than he already is.

  Bailey sits beside me and starts griping about how irritating Duffy has been lately. “It’s like that time he pulled an Adderall nighter, all hopped up to cram for that astronomy test when we had to chart the constellations.”

  I’m scanning the parking lot for Michael’s truck and only half listening. The bus lurches forward, and I slump in my seat, disappointed. Then we stop short and th
e door opens and my second heartbeat springs to life. I catch my breath as Michael climbs aboard.

  He’s greeted by an array of teasing and grumbling for playing hooky most of the day. He laughs good-naturedly and seems to be in an agreeable mood. I try to catch his eye but he won’t look at me. He moves down the aisle, throws a sharp look at his brother, and then collapses into a seat somewhere behind me.

  I sit still, searching for any telltale signs that Michael misses me. The second heartbeat is slow and steady. There is no tugging at my heart, and I feel let down. Then it occurs to me that I’m still mad at him for abandoning me at the waterfall. He could’ve come by my house and explained, or at the very least apologized.

  I stare dismally out the window and bury my hands deep inside my coat pockets. The sky is slate gray with a promise of more snow. The bus heater is doing its best but I shiver anyway.

  My phone is buried along with my hand and when it vibrates, I pull it from my pocket. It’s sweaty and I wipe it clear and tap the screen. The word INDIGO appears, indicating that Michael is texting me. It’s the only word suitable to identify him, since I can hardly use his real name. I thought it was very clever of me but Michael is embarrassed and wants me to change it.

  I read: Can I assume by your pouting attitude that you are mad at me?

  Hmm. I narrow my eyes and respond: Can I assume by your audacious display of ignoring me that you won’t be apologizing for stranding me in the woods?

  I take a deep, angry breath that flares my nostrils. Then I realize Bailey is still bitching about Duffy and expecting me to confirm that he’s being an asshole. She is seriously pissed, so I agree wholeheartedly with whatever she’s said. “Wow, he is being an asshole.”

  My phone vibrates and I read: Ah, so you are confirming the pouting attitude comment. Fine. Pout away. As to my “audacious display of ignoring” you, it should be clear by now that it’s an unfortunate necessity in our situation. It would hardly be appropriate for me to pounce on you at every given opportunity. As much as I would love to.