Drawing Bloodlines (23 page)

14

SOUL COLLECTORS

“When did this fog creep back on us?” said Lafonda, s
ecuring her dark trench coat. She glanced at her watch and bustled to keep pace as she trailed behind Nathan and Malick. “This fog is making it way darker outside than it should be. And I know I’m not from London, but isn’t this unusually cold for August?”

Malick grinned, while glancing back at her. “It’s this weather system,” he said. “I promise you, after it passes it’ll be as muggy as a mid-summers day in Cahokia Falls, Ill
inois.”

Lafonda glanced at her watch again and then glared back at him. “Ugh!” he sighed. He a
llowed her to catch up to him and then groaned softly. “I meant what I said at the leadership dance, Lafonda.”

Lafonda almost halted from walking. “You mean at the closing ceremony, when I was forced to dance with you?” She rolled her eyes. “It’s going to take a lot more than sorry, after trying to drive us off the road. And after all the secrets too, just be happy that I still talk to you —
both of you!”

“You know, you didn’t have to come with us,” grumbled Nathan, keeping pace. “Malick and I could have handled this by ourselves.”

“Ha!” responded Lafonda, her dark brown eyes quickly scanning the tall and short buildings packed along the street. “So you guys can play gatekeeper again and filter what you tell me? Not a chance!” She frowned as she stared at the back of their heads. “Anything new you learn I want in on it from the beginning, straight from the horse’s mouth. None of this, ‘We were keeping you safe’, nonsense. I’m not letting you two out of my sight!”

Nathan rolled his eyes, releasing a long, drawn out sigh. He noticed that it seemed to get quieter as they continue down the narrow street. Quic
kly, he looked back to catch a glimpse of the busy street they had just turned from, but the encroaching fog made it difficult to see.
Where exactly are we going?
He thought to himself. Nathan got an unsettling feeling in his stomach after noticing that most of the buildings appeared abandoned or empty.

“You’re awfully quiet,” said Lafonda. “In fact too quiet. You’re not keeping something from me are you?”

“This street is the one that is too quiet,” mumbled Nathan with a shiver. He glanced back at her and sighed. “And no, Lafonda, I am not keeping secrets from you.” He peered into one of the dusty shop windows as they passed by. “Don’t you think your mom’s going to find it odd that you pleaded to go shopping with her, only to leave her to go shopping with me?”

“No,” she responded promptly. She had a sly grin on her face. “All I had to tell her was that you were in desperat
e need for my shopping advice.”

Nathan huffed. “And
she believed you?”

“Yes,” said Lafonda. Nathan went stoned face as he looked back at her. She giggled. “Have you not seen what you are wearing?” Nathan’s head peered out from beneath his hoodie as he examined his clothes. “An old gray hoodie that could pass for a dingy white one and your usual over-washed IUCF T-shirt.” She shook her head. “It didn’t take much convincing.”

Malick let out a soft snicker and Nathan stared at him disapprovingly. “I think this is it,” said Malick, stopping short of the mid-sized building. In front of them, nested between two black and gray buildings, was an oddly shaped, rectangular brown door to a small shop.

“Esmeralda’s Potions, Trinkets, and Remedies,” said N
athan, reading the old and battered wooden sign aloud. He removed the hood to his gray hoodie and skittishly looked around. “It sounds about right, but is this place even open?” He paused as the wooden sign made a jarring, creaking sound as it swayed on its hinges. “Twenty bucks that sign is about to fall — quick Malick, stand underneath it.”

“Ha-ha, very funny,” said Malick, sarcastically, bare
ly glancing up from his phone.

“I would have to agree with him,” said Lafonda, pressing her face against the shop’s large, but blackened, storefront window. She stepped back and then frowned while eyeing the dirt that was now on her hands. “Why does it feel like we just stepped into a ghost town?”

Nathan turned to look up at Malick, but he had a blank look on his face as he quickly put his cell phone away. “Yeah, this is it,” he said, reaching out to open the awkward wooden door. He glared at Nathan and then turned to look at Lafonda. “And no, it’s not closed.”

“And how do you know that?” asked Nathan. A soft ji
ngle sound echoed above the threshold as he followed Malick into the store. “Is that what the person you keep texting said? Your friend? Who is she and why isn’t she here?”

“I need to see Dr. Shamala, at once!” yelled a deep, booming male voice. Nathan immediately ceased gawking
at Malick and took in the room.

“I’m sorry, sir,” said the young and dark skinned, curly-haired woman seated behind the counter. She paused, eying the older looking woman that sat quietly at the small round table in the dark corner of the room. “But my father is still away in India….
”

“You told me last week he would be back t
oday!” yelled the man, slamming his fist on the counter.

There was a loud pinging sound that reverberated from the rusty-colored mechanical cash register that sat on the counter. The young dark-skinned woman jumped back.
What’s this guy’s deal?
Nathan thought, while frowning at the balding, middle-aged man.
And who is that creepy, purple-hooded guy standing behind him?

Frantically, the man flailed his arms while nervously looking over his shoulder. “I needed help, like yesterday!” he yelled.

“Well, as you can see, he’s … not … here!” said the young woman, stepping to the counter again. She swiftly closed the open book that lay on the counter in front of her and looked the man squarely in the eyes as he leaned over the counter. “So, I guess you’re going to have to find help elsewhere.”  

“What?” he yelled. “Are you kidding me? I’m being to
rtured here!”

Nathan watched as the purple hooded man crept forward and, as if in slow motion, placed a hand on the man’s shou
lder. The middle-aged man froze and then with a shiver, immediately stepped forward. “Now that just went beyond creepy,” muttered Nathan. “Talk about cutting in on a person’s personal space….”

“What’s creepy?” asked Lafonda, looking around the room. She lightly lifted the dark purple drapes that covered the large storefront window. “This would explain why I couldn’t see inside.” She coughed, as dust from the curtains escaped into the air. “What’s wrong with that guy? And why does he keep looking at us from over his shoulder?”

Nathan was confused and turned around to address Lafonda. She had already turned her attention to one of the many extravagant looking candelabras placed in odd corners and on bookshelves around the room. “The dark hooded guy,” whispered Nathan and abruptly Lafonda looked up at him.

“What?” she muttered.

Appearing more agitated, the man quickly glanced over his shoulder again. “Where else am I supposed to go?” he demanded. He looked around the room, stopping his gaze at the older-looking woman who was seated at the round table. “What about her? She was here last time. All she does is stare into that crystal ball. Why can’t she help me?”

The young woman looked over toward the dark corner of the room and snorted. “My grandmother?” she said. She watched as the woman made funny faces as she stared into the cloudy crystal ball. “She hasn’t said a peep in weeks. I’m sorry but you’re just going to have to go somewhere else.”

“There is nowhere else!” shouted the man, slamming his fist on the counter again. He appeared to try to regain his composure and then spoke in a low whisper. “With all the weird things happening to me: frequently misplacing my keys, bumping into things, and my morning alarm constantly failing to go off. I thought it was just my bad luck, but it’s like I’m being haunted.” With desperation in his eyes, he lunged over the counter at her. “W–what about you? Aren’t you his daughter? Can’t you do something?”

She paused, looking at him skeptically as she stared into his red and sunken eyes. “Look, I don’t have time to fool around with that stuff. And as you can see, my grandmother is beco
ming increasing senile by the minute. So, if you don’t mind, I have some inventory to get to before I put dinner on the table.” She looked at him squarely in the eyes again. “And you look like you could use some sleep. It’s probably just all in your head.”

“Why, you little!” yelled the man. His face burned a bright red and his eyes looked as if they were going to bulge out of his sockets. “I should hop over that counter and….”

“Take him to the back,” said a clear and stern voice. Everyone turned to the dark corner of the room and the old woman smiled. “Take him to the back and give him some ginger root and mint elixir.” She winked. “It’s in the green bottle — top shelf — next to my spare crystal balls.” She then looked sternly at the man. “3 drops, 3 times a day will do.”

The young girl behind the counter continued to stare at her, her mouth gaped open. “Mama Shamala, y–you speak?”

“Well of course child, I’m not dead,” she sneered. “Now, take him to the back and do as I said.”

“But….”

“If I have to get up from my chair — now, Zahara!” she yelled and her right eye twitched.

“Yes, Mama Shamala,” she said, and reluctantly she ge
stured for the middle-aged man to follow.

“Thank you, thank you,” repeated the man, while gr
aciously bowing to the old woman. “Many blessings to you.”

“Dude, come on,” grumbled Zahara. She turned to look at Nathan, Malick, and Lafonda
. “It will be just a second.”

“Take your time,” said Nathan with a smile. He watched as the purple hooded man followed closely behind them and
frowned. “Is he with him?”

Lafonda had a confused look on her face as she perused the dusty bookshelves and examined the various-sized cry
stals and potion bottles scattered on small round tables around the room. “Is who with him?” she asked. She paused, reading some of the book titles aloud. “
Ancient Incantations for Spirit Cleansing
,
Realms and Portals: Not Just for Thor, Loki, and Asgard
.” She smiled holding up a brilliantly decorated book. “
Mysteries of the Vondercrat
— now that sounds like a good read.”

“The guy,” groaned Nathan. “The guy dressed in the pu
rple cloak, you know, with the hood.”

“I didn’t see anyone,” said Lafonda, placing the book back on the table. “Just the grumpy guy causing all the commotion.” She laughed. “Now, that I think about it, you guys probably would make good friends.”

“Ha-ha-ha, very funny, Lafonda,” he said sarcastically. “I’m serious.” He turned to look at Malick, but he quickly diverted his eyes to a rack of charms and amulets that set atop one of the tables. “How could you guys not see him? He was practically pestering the man.”

“You saw him,” said the old woman, abruptly. She grinned, revealing a set of grayish teeth. “Yes, yes, you did — didn’t you, young man?” She rested her dark-brown, a
ging hands on top of the red scarf that tamed her long, bushy white hair and shut her eyes. “Oh yes, you saw him, and your tall friend too.”

“Seen what?” asked Lafonda, while undoing the top two buttons to her coat. “The short bald guy?”

“The Soul Collector,” said Malick.

“Soul Collector?” said Nathan. “Wait, you saw him?”

“Yes,” said the old woman opening her eyes. “The Soul Collector.” Methodically, she ran her hands around the small crystal ball in front of her. “I would have performed a
Third Eye Prayer
or
Second Sight Incantation
to help him gain clarity — to see the things unseen — but he’s too far gone for that. She closed her eyes again and some of the fine lines on her face relaxed. “Yes, too far gone — the spiraling path to his own destruction already in motion — right where he wants him.”

“Who wants him?” asked Nathan.

“The Soul Collector,” said Malick, softly. “It’s a rare gift to be able to see them. Once they choose their victims, they haunt them, follow them, seeking every possible way to push them over the edge.”

“Over the edge?” repeated Nathan
. “For what?”

“To take their souls,” said Malick. “A Soul Collector does everything possible to make their victims miserable, to break them. And when their spirit is broken — that’s when they come to them — allow themselves to be seen, and o
ffer a deal.”

“A deal?” asked Nathan.

“Yes, a deal,” said Malick, grimly. “A deal to end all their suffering in exchange for their souls.”

“But that’s a load of crap,” said Nathan. “How can things be that bad that you would give up your soul?”

“You’ll be surprised what people would do when they’re at their lowest,” said Malick. “When all hope is gone, we become desperate, vulnerable. A Soul Collector knows exactly when to come.” He watched as the old woman at the table continued to sit quietly with her eyes closed. “All kinds of deals are offered on the table: wealth, fame, heal a loved one, erase a debt. A Soul Collector is willing to offer just about anything in exchange for a soul.”