The Soul Seekers (9 page)

Breathe, Emma.
I let out a little laugh. “Horrible at many things.” I remembered the coin. “Especially with losing stuff. I can’t find the coin.”

Without waiting for a reaction, because I’d already been through that and it left me in the middle of a gravel road, I dumped my whole purse onto the desk. Billfold, book, comb, packet of bank money for a car bought then returned, three pens, and some chewing gum: it all fell out into a pile. I sorted through the mess, stopping to watch as William lifted the tan corduroy fabric and slipped a finger into its satin lining.

“Coin,” he said, producing it with a swift flip of his hand. “It was there the whole time.”

William held it up to look for a moment, but then handed it over with a panicked expression. I reached for it, clasping my fingers around it as a shield.

“Why did they do this to you?”

“According to them, I have the strongest soul they have ever seen. If they can claim it, their cult will become powerful enough to leave Springvale and take anyone’s soul—anytime, anywhere.”

“For what purpose? Why would a church want to do something like that?”

“It started many years ago. They need souls to gain immortality. The more they collect, the longer they’ll live.”

I meticulously placed the coin back into the billfold’s coin pocket and shut the clasps with a firm snap. “I still don’t understand, but I want to help.”

William grew tense. “You can help by leaving town.”

“Leave town? Someone needs to help you fight these . . .
men,
whatever they are. I can do it. I mean, what do I have to lose anyway? Something in me says it’s meant to be. I was meant to be here for you.”

“How fatalistic. And sad.”

I clutched my purse to my chest. “No more than you living as a nobody for—how long has it been?”

“Twenty-three years.”

I swallowed hard just thinking about it. My brain started to do the calculation, which he was quick to pick up on.

“Nineteen-fifty six.”

I could cry for him, how terrible to be alone for that many years. “Well, I’m sorry, but I’m helping you and that’s that.”

“I was afraid of this.” William paused. “If you really want to help me, there are certain things you can do, but I swear, if I ever catch you near those men. . . .”

I sat down again, sporting a huge grin. “
How
can I help?” He tried to stun me with a death stare, but I was past that. “Hmm?” I prodded.

William sighed and walked over to grab a chair from one of the tables, straddling it in front of me. His face was inches from mine, cupped oh so handsomely in his right hand. “You have psychic powers. We’ll use those. We will strengthen them.”

“You keep saying I have these powers. What makes you so sure?”

His fingers stretched out across the chair back to almost touch my arm. “Just a feeling, I guess.”

“I think you’re wrong.”

He laughed. “It’s a tough thing to accept, but I think you have some abilities, maybe stronger than mine. Listen Emma, it’s like we’re radios, you and I, and there’s a signal being sent out between us. The more we talk, the stronger it gets. Most people don’t have their antennas up, and the signals they give are weak. But we have super-government grade, FBI workings, and are able to pick up what no one else can. Does that make any sense?”

“I haven’t been able to until now.”

“Are you sure?”

I was slow to answer.

William continued, “I’ll bet you have all of your life, but you didn’t know what it was. I denied my abilities growing up. It’s a pretty heady thing being able to hear the thoughts of your first grade teacher, or the guy who lives next door. It scared me, and I spent many years pretending I was normal. I didn’t feel normal. I felt crazy.” His eyes deepened when they looked into mine. “I’m telling you that you aren’t crazy, and you do have this gift.”

I took a long breath. “Okay, maybe I can sense things once in a while. What good does that do me? Why should I get all worked up about it?”

“Because you can do great things with this ability, if you choose.”

My heart thudded. “You said I couldn’t—”

“You can use it to protect yourself,” he said with authority. “You must never put yourself in a situation where you could get hurt. Got that?”

“Mm-hmm.”

After a pause, he said, “Let’s do a test. I’ll send a thought to you, and you tell me what I said.”

“Okay.”

“Close your eyes.”

I really didn’t want to, not when those sparkling blue were so close to mine. But I did as ordered, closing them with only a slight cheat for a split second. In another moment his voice filtered into my head like a whisper from a far away telephone line in Beijing.

Emma Shay is going to do everything I tell her, and not get into any trouble.

“I couldn’t hear a word,” I lied. “Try something different.”

“Okay.”

This time it came in louder.

You heard the last one, you little cheat.

I made a grimace, eyes still closed. “I heard it. Let me try you now.”

I looked up in time to see his eyelids closing down, dark lashes brushing against pale, finely-chiseled cheeks.

Oh God, I couldn’t think of anything proper to say that wouldn’t incriminate me. The idea of him hearing my inner thoughts was terrifying. Could he hear pictures? Sweet Jesus, the pictures in my mind.

“Relax, Emma. I’m getting a whole bunch of crazy.”

I took a deep breath and released the first thing that came.

I’d die for you.

“Is that so?”

“Yeah. It is so. In case you’ve forgotten, I’m the one who found the coin and I happen to be a girl, er, woman.”

“Yes, I can see what you are.”

“I think you should open up your mind and stop being old-fashioned.”

William smirked at that. “Old-fashioned. I’m an old-fashioned ghost. Great.”

“I don’t mean
old
old. You don’t look old.”

He rubbed his neck. “I feel old.”

With a sigh William leaned back against the desk and brushed the hair out of his eyes in exasperation. “I’m wondering about you. What is it about you
that fate would deem special as to place me at your mercy?”

I shrugged.

“How old are you?”

“Seventeen.”

“An adult, almost. It’s the same age I was when it happened. Tell me something, have you had any tragic events happen to you recently, anything that would weaken you emotionally?”

“You could say that.”

“A death in the family, perhaps? It makes you more vulnerable. I don’t like the thought of the eclipse coming up—it’s too well timed with you finding the coin. No wonder they were smug the other day. The most important thing is keeping you safe. I want you to learn how to protect yourself. As for me, well, I guess there are ways to keep me safe as well.” He said this almost as an afterthought and looked to regret it the second it passed his lips.

“Does that mean I get to help?”

“It means nothing. Don’t
assume
anything.”

I came around the desk to stand next to him, distractedly reaching out to toy with a dark curl. It was so black that a blue sheen shimmered along its surface, like the silken feathers of a raven. I let it curl around my finger, giving it a gentle tug before release.

He grasped my hand. “I’m still not used to that.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s heavenly.”

A sizzling shock went through our skin, and my eyes caught his in wonder.

Kiss me again,
I thought, eyes closing.

“No,” he answered quietly, moving away. “We need to concentrate. Let me grab some books that I think are perfect in this type of mind training. It’s amazing—I slip the request into Ethel’s order box and she never questions the source. She just sends it out. Thank God for that woman.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, still smarting with rejection. “She’s pretty cool.”

“I’ll be right back.”

I looked up to see him flash through three shelves.

Rejected by a ghost. I smoothed down my hair and tugged at the wrinkles in my dress, feeling a bit glum. I could only imagine what I looked like after walking for two miles.

When he came back, fading out of the same shelves, his eyes looked me over with a tentative glance. “Ready?”

“Sure.”

William laid the books across one of the long tables by the front window, and motioned for me to sit down. He sat next to me, sliding a navy clothbound book between us.

“This one delves into the idea of realized thought, or thought in action. Have you read this type of material before, Emma?”

“Can’t say that I have.”

“You should. With the intuition you possess, I think you’d learn well with just a little training. I’ve been doing it for years.”

His voice went on and on and I tried to listen, I really did, but all I could hear was his ‘no’ from a few minutes prior.

Then I heard the deep rumbling of pistons flaring and choking in unison. I looked out the window to see a sluggish, black Camaro driving down Main.

“Please, no,” I muttered.

“I’m sorry, is this too much? We can study later.”

“No, no, not you.”

I watched as Jesse parked the car and made his way to the library entrance. I was crouched under the table’s ledge when he peered in through the front window.

“A friend of yours?” William asked, still sitting in his chair.

“I don’t know what he is, or why he’s looking for me.”

“Oh, I see. Well, you couldn’t have picked a worse friend, or whatever you call him. Jesse Limon only cares about himself. I could tell you some stories.”

“No, thanks.”

I listened to the sound of Jesse’s boots shuffling outside the door; they retreated back down the sidewalk a few long minutes later. After I heard the car pull away, I crept over and unlocked the bolt. A note was stuck to the door with Scotch tape.

Emma,

Your grandmother (or whoever that old lady was) said you might be here. She’s worried about you. I’m worried too. I’m sorry about last night. Really, really sorry. Call me at 555-2794. Please, please, please, please, please.

please

please

please

please

call me,

Jesse

I crushed the note and let it fall into the front trash can.

“Are you going to call him?”

“No, I’m not. But I do need to get home. My family must be pretty upset at me for being gone all night.” I walked over to the front desk to grab my purse. “We can still study sometime. Maybe I can come back later this afternoon?”

“Sure, but before you go, I’d like to try something else, if you don’t mind.”

I dropped the purse down too fast, eager to do anything he asked. “Okay.”

“Take a seat again, across from me.”

I did.

William leaned back and placed his hands across the table to steady his chair movement. “Put your hand over here, and I promise I won’t be as rude as before.”

I offered my hand. He leaned in and turned my palm upwards, proceeding to cover it with his own—such a weird sensation of fuzzy voltage. I looked up in curiosity, still fascinated by the sensation.

“Yes, it is strange, isn’t it?” William murmured. “We have weird reactions, you and I.” He motioned for me to close my eyes. “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” I answered, fighting off the urge to slide my hand up his strong forearm and then further up to touch his face.

“Emma?”

I blushed but said nothing.

William continued, “It was a day much like this one. Warm morning shadows stretched down the street, summer leaves shimmering on the trees. People are walking down the sidewalk doing their daily errands. Can you picture it?”

“Sure,” I answered.

“The only thing different is the street that you are on—the same one that exists now—is twenty years younger. The cars parked along the road are the same as well, but with unblemished paint and shining silver chrome. A man gets out smelling of aftershave, his hair is combed back into an oily slick, with white shirt perfectly pressed and dress coat hanging over his left arm. Another car goes by, and you hear an old song being played on the radio—Perry Como.

“Children throw a ball back and forth. Life is good. Innocent. A woman passes by wearing a waist-fitted dress with a full, knee-length skirt. Her black heels click down the sidewalk. Can you see her?”

“Yes,” I breathe. I
can
see all of it, and before William asks, I am hearing it, smelling it. I am there. “Go on.”

“Look in the glass storefront beside you. What do you see reflected there?”

“I see you,” I breathe in amazement.

His hair is as dark and shining as ebony silk. It hangs down over his handsome forehead in the same thick curls. He is dressed in the familiar, blue-checked flannel shirt which, as usual, fits tightly against his muscled chest in an oh so wonderful way. His jeans are cuffed at the bottom, swaying down to a pair of worn out leather boots.

I am him. With his eyes I see past the reflection into a shop—a beauty parlor—where a pretty girl stands, paying a receptionist with money from a small pocket book pulled out of a handbag. She is petite with dark hair just like William’s, and when she walks out, she smiles, showing eyes as blue as his. She wears a delicate cream-colored dress, decorated with a strawberry print and little strawberry buttons all the way down the front. She must be about sixteen years old.