Shattered Souls (8 page)

Read Shattered Souls Online

Authors: Mary Lindsey

BOOK: Shattered Souls
10.67Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
I looked around and groaned. He’d been in my pigsty of a room all night.
The noises in my head bounced to the foreground. I pressed my palms to my temples. “Stop. Stop it,” I whispered. The voices dimmed at once.
Alden and I stared at each other in silence for a tense moment before he closed his eyes as if listening to something. My soul?
I pulled the collar of the bathrobe closer. “It’s real, right? What’s happening to me—it’s not in my head. Dead people are really talking to me.”
He moved to the edge of the bed. “Yes.”
A lifetime of this would be intolerable. There had to be a way out. I crossed my arms. “I can’t do it. You need to make it stop.”
“I can’t.” His voice was soft. Almost apologetic.
Tears stung my eyes. “Why?”
He stood, and for a moment I thought he was going to take me in his arms, but he put his hands in his pockets. “Lenzi, we’re just people. We’re different from most people, admittedly, but we don’t hold the cards. You can’t change what you are any more than any other creature on this planet.”
It took everything in me not to cry. “I don’t want to do it. I’m scared.”
He shuffled foot to foot as if he were uncomfortable. “I know. Knowledge alleviates fear. Maybe if you ask me questions, I can help you understand. What do you want to know?”
I sat on the edge of the bed. “How do I make them go away?”
He sat next to me. Close, but not touching. “You ask them to clarify their needs and then you help them find resolution. They aren’t trying to frighten you. They just want your attention.”
“That thing last night wanted more than my attention.”
“Yeah, that was unfortunate. And totally my fault. I shouldn’t have left you unprepared.” He ran his hands through his hair. “I’m sorry about that.”
I swiveled to face him. “Okay, why does the temperature go nutty sometimes, like an arctic blast?”
He smiled. “They have all kinds of gimmicks to catch your attention. That’s one of their favorites. Some of them can even give off smells. They can manipulate the physical environment, like knock things off shelves and lock doors and stuff like that.”
I fiddled with the end of my robe belt. “Oh. So I’m not really in danger.”
Alden paused for a moment before answering. “No. You really
are
in danger. Not from the run-of-the-mill Hindered, but from the Malevolent like last night. There aren’t many of them, but they’d love to have your body. They’d kick you out if they could.”
I shuddered, recalling last night’s attack. “So that’s why I need you.”
He stared into my eyes and paused before answering. “Yes.”
“And we’ve been together for generations.”
“Yes.”
That, more than the thing about ghosts, made me uneasy. What was he to me in past lives? What did he know about me?
He stood and stretched. “How about some breakfast? You could use some fuel after last night.”
As if on cue, my stomach rumbled. “We have some Pop-Tarts.”
He gave me a thumbs-up. “Perfect! The breakfast of champions. Get dressed, and I’ll meet you downstairs.”
I sat on my bed for a moment after he left, trying to grasp my new reality. Being nuts was easier.
EIGHT
 
I
felt better after some milk and a strawberry Pop-Tart. Better, but still uneasy. I could tell Alden was waiting for me to lead the conversation, but I had so many questions, I didn’t know where to start.
I slid off my bar stool and unwrapped two more Pop-Tarts. “So, I guess you took me to the hospital while I was unconscious.”
Alden held his finger up while he finished chewing and swallowed. “No. I sewed the stitches.”
I slid my hand under my shirt and ran my fingers over the stitches. “You did it?”
He turned on his stool to face me. “It’s hard to explain that kind of injury to doctors. The wounds you have right now are pretty innocuous, but sometimes they’re not. Sometimes the Malevolent carve words into your skin. I’m trained to handle most of the types of injuries you’ll receive. Sutures are my least favorite. Fortunately, you only needed a few at the top of one of the scratches.”
“Sometimes they carve words in my skin?” I crumpled the foil pastry wrapper in my fist. “Carve words? And you’re trained to handle that? Trained by whom?” I dropped the balled-up wrapper on the counter.
“Calm down. When you have the full picture, it won’t be as scary.” He moved next to me and pulled the Pop-Tarts out of the toaster.
I carried my plate to the island and slid onto my stool. “Okay. Enlighten me, then, because it’s pretty freaking scary.”
He sat next to me and took a bite of his pastry. “We need to start at the beginning.”
“And where is that?”
“Soul-sharing. It’s the foundation of the system.” He took a few more bites and a gulp of milk.
No longer hungry, I placed my plate on the counter next to the sink. Embracing any part of this as a possibility was a terrible idea. I needed to get out of this, not find out how it worked.
Alden joined me and set his plate in the sink. “Your job is to serve as a conduit for Hindered resolutions. We have to soul-share in order for you to do that. Two souls in one body.”
“Whose body?”
He grabbed the Pop-Tart off my plate and took a big bite. “Yours.”
“No way.” I wadded up my napkin and threw it in the trash can. “Forget it.”
“Wait,” Alden said, crossing the kitchen in huge strides. “Please wait.” He touched my elbow and that funky soothing thing started.
I yanked my arm away. “Stop it. Whatever that is . . . stop it.”
He held his hands up and backed away. “It’s okay. I’m trying to help you, Lenzi. There’s a lot at stake here. A lot more than you being afraid of voices or getting some cuts from a Malevolent.” He ran his hands through his hair. “I understand your frustration. Your past-life amnesia makes this complicated for both of us. But we can get through this if you’ll just let me help you. Please.”
I leaned against the door frame. He was so sincere. There was something about him—something different from anyone I’d ever met. As much as I hated to admit it, Ghost Boy fascinated me.
“Okay,” I said. “Get on with it, but I want you to know, I don’t like this.”
He followed me into the living room and began strolling around checking out photos and memorabilia. His uninvited scrutiny made me feel naked. I never felt this self-conscious with Zak.
He picked up my framed third-grade class photo from the bookcase and smiled.
Ugh.
Why did he have to pick that one? That was the year I decided to give myself a haircut before picture day. My bangs stuck up like a science fair exhibit on the effect of static electricity.
“So cute,” he said.
I rolled my eyes.
He took a deep breath through his nose. “The house smells like you.”
I put my hands on my hips. “What does
that
mean?”
“You have a distinctive smell. I’ve known you so long, I’d recognize it anywhere.”
That was one step too far over the perv line. “Okay, I’ve heard enough.”
“No, calm down. It’s a compliment. You smell good. I’m not being weird. It’s part of the Protector-Speaker thing. Sorry.” He plopped down on the sofa. “Please sit down,” he said, patting the cushion next to him.
I strode to a chair on the opposite side of the coffee table and sat.
“No. It will be hard for us to do it in that chair. The sofa will work much better.”
I stood. “That’s it. We’re done.”
“Whoa. Okay. You stay over there, and I’ll stay here. I’m not talking about sex. I’m talking about keeping you alive.” He leaned forward, voice quiet and calm. “I want you to share your body with my soul, nothing else.” Those strange eyes of his were mesmerizing. “Please. Let me show you, then all of this will make sense.” He stood and held his hand out to me. “If you touch me, it will be easier. It’s . . . uncomfortable without contact.”
I put my hand in his. “Let’s get this over with, Ghost Boy.”
“Okay, I’ll consider that consent.” He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. I studied him as his brow furrowed in concentration. His hair was blond, but his long eyelashes were almost black. Why was it that guys always got the Maybelline lashes? He opened his eyes and focused on my face.
“Out,” he whispered.
I watched his eyes glaze over, and my stomach churned. Almost immediately, it felt like my insides were being ripped apart. I screamed. The fear was as bad as the pain, and the pain was intense. It felt like hot water pouring into my body, beginning with my chest and radiating all the way out into my toes and fingertips. I kept screaming, but I couldn’t hear it.
Stop it, Lenzi! Relax. The hard part is over,
he assured me.
Listen to me. I’m in. It will stop hurting now. Stop!
It sounded like he was talking from inside my head, which was impossible, of course, because he was standing right in front of me. I stared at him. He was right: the pain was gone.
See? It’s okay now. I’m in, and you’re fine. You’ll get used to it.
His mouth hadn’t moved. The voice really was inside my head. My panic rose again. Shoving his shoulder caused no reaction. He looked like a standing corpse.
I’m not there, Lenzi. That’s just an empty shell. I’m in your body.
It felt claustrophobic, like I was too full and there wasn’t enough room for me.
You’re okay. Relax and just get used to it.
I stood panting in the middle of the room. “I’m freaking out, Alden. I don’t like this.”
It gets easier. You’re not in danger.
It wasn’t like he was just a little voice in my head—he was a complete presence throughout my being. It felt like I was being consumed. “Alden, I can’t take it anymore. Please. You’ve got to get out.”
Okay. I’ll leave your body now. It will be easier if you touch me.
I put my hands on his shoulders.
Out,
I heard him command his soul.
There was a distinct ripping sensation throughout my entire body. I dug my fingers into his shoulder and hung on.
His glazed gray eyes came to life as he drew a deep breath and smiled.
I released my death grip on his shoulder and backed away. I hadn’t expected it to be so intense—in fact, I hadn’t truly believed it was possible at all. I slumped onto the sofa and stared at him. He stood still as if he were afraid to move for fear I’d bolt.
His voice was soft and gentle. “Are you okay? I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
I took a deep shaky breath and nodded. “I’m fine.”
He sat down right where he was in the middle of the floor, and we stared at each other for what felt like forever. “Do you have any questions for me?”
I laughed. Totally lost it and flew into a giggling fit. I’m not sure why that question set me off. Perhaps it was because he was so sincere. It could have been a post-trauma adrenaline rush. Or maybe it was because my reality was crazier than any nuthouse diagnosis. Crazier than Dad.
After a moment, he smiled and then laughed too.
I patted the sofa cushion next to me and repeated his words. “It will be hard for us to do it in that chair. The sofa will work much better.”
He joined me on the sofa, and we laughed until my sides hurt.
“Do I have any questions?” I said, wiping a tear away. “About a billion.”
He leaned back with his hands behind his head and closed his eyes. “Shoot.”
“Is this what my dad had? Did he hear ghosts too?”
“No. Your dad was not a Speaker. He was really sick.” He opened his eyes and looked into mine. “It’s totally unrelated. You are not like your dad. You’re supposed to hear voices. It’s your job.”
“It’s a weird job.”
“It’s a wonderful job,” he said, closing his eyes again.
As turned off as I was by the prospect of talking to ghosts, I still found myself drawn to Alden more than anyone I’d ever met. A strange pang of familiarity shot through me as I scanned his long body. It was like my memories of him were right at the tip of my brain, just out of reach. I bit my lip. “Um . . . in our past lives . . . were we . . . What was our relationship?”
He sat up and stared directly into my eyes. “Our relationship varies. It’s dictated by your mood.”
My mood?
“Have we ever been . . . ?” I looked down at my hands, which were folded in my lap. I could feel his eyes on me.
“The relationship is defined by the Speaker. The Protector has no say in it.” He got up and walked to the bookcase, keeping his back to me. “Sometimes we’re just business partners. A couple of times we got married. Occasionally, you were romantically involved with someone else.” His grip tightened on the bookshelf. “. . . Like you are in this cycle.”

Other books

Theirs by Hazel Gower
The Capitol Game by Haig, Brian
El sueño del celta by Mario Vargas LLosa
Blind Faith by Kimberley Reeves
Cannery Row by John Steinbeck
The Saint to the Rescue by Leslie Charteris