The Soul Seekers (8 page)

“It’s happening again.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“The sun goes down and I become sucked into night. Someday, I’ll be gone for good.” William looked frightened.

I blinked hard, unable to clear up the blurring line that had begun to affect every edge of his body. The top of his head—that dark hair—faded soft, then his face, his eyes. It all washed away, like an hourglass draining, disappearing into nothingness as the last bit of daylight melded into night with a dark purple hue.

The vice-like grip was gone.
He
was gone.

I was alone.

I stumbled and reached out to the van, trying to regulate my breathing. It must be something else, something I ate or drank. Smoothing my hair, I closed the van door and made my way across the street to the square. None of this had happened. It was the soda.

Jesse had taken the stage, black leather jacket and all, illuminated from behind by electric amber lights. When he saw me approach—cutting through the crowd—he smiled and took one hand off his guitar to wave. I waved back.

“I’m going to dedicate this next song to my golden-haired friend, Emma. It’s gonna be okay, babe.”

Looking up, I caught his smile and smiled back. Maybe Jesse could help me after all. Yes, the more I thought about it, Jesse was the right person to turn to. He . . . he . . .

Something was wrong. My thoughts were overwhelming and confusing. I felt dizzy and sick. My hands clutched at the stage as I fell on rubbery, unsteady legs. I took one last look at Jesse’s concerned face before everything went black.

¤ ¤ ¤

When I came to, Jesse was carrying me in his arms.

“What happened?” I asked.

“You fainted.”

“How did I do that?”

“The heat maybe. You’re pretty pale right now.”

I tried to wiggle out of his arms, but he held tight. I noticed a little vein throbbing in the side of his neck. “Am I heavy?”

“No. Yes. You’re heavier than a guitar, let’s just say that.”

Good old Jesse.

Shifting his weight, he opened the passenger side door of the Camaro and put me down. “Here we are.”

Jesse waited for me to climb in then shut the door behind, jumping the hood like Luke Duke to get to the driver’s side. When he slipped in his seat I thought about the concert. “Aren’t you supposed to finish your set?”

“Yeah. It kind of sucks, but it would suck more to have some other dude scoop you up and take you home.”

I pleaded with my eyes.
Don’t take me home. Take me far away from this town.

He seemed to understand. “Emma.”

“Jesse, why did you take me up to the bluffs that first night?”

“Because I wanted to get to know you, honest—”

“Why do you want the coin so bad? You can have it, you know.” I dug in my purse, but it was missing. “Hold on, it’s in here somewhere.”

“I don’t care about the coin.”

I kept searching, growing frustrated with the absence of an object that had caused more trouble than it could ever be worth. I reached up to click on the overhead light.

“Emma.”

I took out the wallet and ran my hands along the bottom of my purse, cursing.

“Emma!”

“What?”

“Forget the coin, will you?”

“Sure.” I dropped the billfold. The coin couldn’t just disappear like that. What if it fell into the wrong hands?

“Anything the matter?”

“No. Only, do you mind if I go take care of something real quick?” It must have fallen out in the van. I’d go back there, get it, and everything would be fine.

“Yeah, I mind a lot. We need to talk.”

“Just a second.”

I threw open the door and rushed across the parking lot, ignoring Jesse’s yell behind me. “You just fainted!”

After taking a shortcut behind the gazebo, I cut through the square and headed across the street to the alleyway, stopping when I saw those same men circling the van. I turned around quickly, away from the scene. I’d have to get it later.

“Miss! Miss,” they yelled behind me.

I picked up my pace.

“Young lady!”

Screeching tires met my ears, followed by the sound of a loud motor. Only one car in town made that sound.

When I jumped in Jesse looked panicked. “God, Emma. What’s wrong with you?”

“I lost the coin.”

“What?”

“In that van over there—I think. That has to be where it is. Let’s wait until those men leave and we can look for it.”

“What in the hell where you doing in someone’s van?”

“Long story.”

“I’m really starting to wonder about you. Here I’ve left my gig to save your ass, while you’ve been hanging out in someone’s van?”

“It’s not like
that.
”

“What is it then?” His eyes narrowed, hands pressed hard around the steering wheel.

As the group of men came toward us, Jesse revved the car loud. They halted their step. “You’d better tell me something because I’m getting really pissed off.”

“I think I’m still high.”

“You’re
what
?”

“The drink. Something was in my drink.”

Marcus reached out to grab at my door handle.

“Jesse, go!”

Jesse fumbled with the steering wheel and let out a curse. He shifted gears, sending the car forward with spinning tires.

I threw on a seatbelt as he chartered us down Main at high speed. He had to swerve to avoid the crowd, but never eased up. In a few minutes we were well into the undivided perimeters of town, but it was a long time before he slowed down, eyes glued to the road ahead.

Jesse repeated, “Who was in the van with you?”

“No one. Just a guy that hangs out at the library every day.”
And he faded. He faded right in front of me.
My mind replayed the scene in slow motion.

“
Just a guy
,” he said in a mocking tone. “No guy is ever just a guy, Emma. We’re all,” he struggled to find an appropriate word, “monsters.”

“Nothing happened. He must have the coin.”

Jesse shook his head, disbelief crossing the planes of his face. The car skidded to a dead halt on the gravel road. “You gave him the coin.”

“I didn’t give it to him, but I can’t find it, so. . . .”

“You gave him the only thing that would pay my way out of here. I’ve been waiting my whole life to get out of this rat hole and you just give it away? Dammit!”

With a groan Jesse slid down into his seat, fingers pressing into the bridge of his nose.

“I’m sorry.”

“Did you kiss him?”

“No.”

“Well, that’s a relief. I can die easy now, knowing I’m not the only guy Emma Shay has rejected.”

“Enough already.”

Jesse played with the keys that dangled from the ignition for a second. He leaned over and I heard the click of a door lock being flipped up.

I let out a little gasp.

He spoke low. “What’s wrong? Still don’t trust me?”

I refused to answer.

He shoved open the passenger door. “Out.”

Grabbing my purse, I stepped onto gravel, wincing as he revved the car to a viciously loud roar. We glared at each other. When he saw I wasn’t going to throw myself at him, he gave an angry shake of his head and hit the gas. The Camaro sped away, roiling the air with dust, abandoning me.

I should have thrown rocks. I
wanted
to throw rocks.

After watching the taillights recede into nothingness, I started to walk. I took off my shoes, and the gravel crunched and rolled under my feet. The wind blew through the dark cornfields and twisted in my hair like a hot, invisible thread. I watched the horizon and the ominous bluffs rising up to the moon.

I began to run. It felt good to run. The wind took my hair and flung it up into the air. It swooshed into my skirt and flew around my thighs. Running felt like I was going somewhere, like time would never end, like no one would ever die. Not Dad, not William. No one.

The tightness in my chest spread into a burn as I pushed harder and shoved each leg out, one after the other. Aluminum tabs from soda cans littered the gravel. I dodged them, though the gravel itself pricked into my soles. I recalled being a child and running down the street because I had spilled paint in the garage. The gravel had hurt then, cutting into soft flesh that was easily healed by sympathetic kisses. My feet were tougher now, and I welcomed each puncture that met my skin.

Finally I saw the lights of town twinkling in among the waving hills of pitch-dark earth that surrounded me. I ran along the neighborhoods, past the water tower, the American Legion building. When I reached the square I slowed down, and, panting hard, walked to stand by the empty gazebo; humidity and sweat gluing the long strands of my hair to my neck like sticky spaghetti. A few people remained, tearing apart their concessions. I hung out and watched, not wanting to go home.

I looked all around the town, starting with the gothic-looking Springvale Savings and Loan where Mom worked every day. Its white painted limestone and arched entryway threw a sheath of darkness over the street with a half-orbed moon high above its flat roof.

The old colonial bed and breakfast held up the south corner of the square; its welcoming front porch and hanging ferns looked too homey for the severity of a town street. Sending out a warning were the high gabled windows on the roof that cut into the sky like a row of bayonets.

A stretch of quaint-looking shops decorated the whole perimeter with bright painted signs above each entry. Then there was the square itself, now gutted like a fish, paper scattered everywhere, gazebo looking painfully empty. A glance into the alley showed the van was gone.

My eyes moved to a tall structure of red brick with white, Grecian-looking pillars standing protectively on either side of a low flight of stairs.
The library.

I headed in its direction, stopping just short of the front railing. A cold breeze washed over me, cleansing the awful heat that had permeated and broiled my skin for the last few hours. My fingers curled around an iron slat as another wave curved around my neck in delicious flowing air.

I felt along the wall for the loose brick Ethel used to hide her extra key. I’d just go in for a minute to sort myself out before going home.

After closing and locking the door behind me, I felt along the wall for the switch to turn on a low set of lights by the front desk. Halogen buzzed. I threw my sandals down on the floor before moving to sit in Ethel’s chair. A leaf hung in the lower strands of my hair. I plucked it out.

The tears started. They flowed down in unrelenting streams, joined by the occasional groan caused by the painful images being released from my mind. Dad—watching him die back in Colorado Springs. Mom and her soulless escape from reality, while I flailed about for something to hold on to. The funeral. The move. Grandmother Carrie’s face the day she saw we had nothing but a few boxes to call home.

And there was him—every day, him. Beautiful, silent—
mine.

I moved my cheek to rest along my forearm, and caught the time on Ethel’s little desk radio. I should probably start heading home, although walking the streets at midnight wasn’t the most appealing idea. I closed my eyes and felt my conscience sharpen then blur away into sleep.

I awoke to the glow of daylight pressing on my eyelids, my head nestled against the soft pad of my forearm. Brushing away the hair that was stuck to my cheek, along with one of the beaded earrings, I reached up to stretch, but stopped short at the sight of a filmy shadow in the front window. I watched it grow and form; a human shape empty like a glass, filling up with the colors of the sunrise, until slowly, it became a solid being.

I knew I wasn’t dreaming, and there was no way I was hallucinating this. It was real. He was real.

“Amazing,” I whispered.

His voice was soft, warm. “Emma. Do you believe now?”

“Yes,” I answered, finally admitting it to myself more than to him. William was the one I wanted to be with; he who I was running to.

William could kiss me forever. I knew now, without a doubt, that he was the reason I was in Springvale, and everything that had happened was worth it.

His lips were ice-cold, but they turned warm in seconds; they were soft and full, strong, hungry. The kiss ended, and he pulled his mouth from mine but stayed close, hands cupping at my face. “I’m sorry,” William whispered. “I should be able to control myself.”

“I’m not complaining,” I whispered back, trying not to show my disappointment when he pulled away regardless, sitting back on the edge of the desk.

“I haven’t felt another human’s skin in so long.”

“I haven’t felt a ghost’s skin before, so I guess we’re even.”

“A ghost,” he repeated. “I suppose that’s what I am to you.”

William sat looking at his hands, thumbs playing a wrestling game with each other in his lap. He looked up again. “Well, here we are. Ethel won’t be in today, she never comes in on Sunday, and I always get the whole place to myself.”

I pushed away from the desk and about fell to the floor with a sleep-numbed leg. I smiled in shy embarrassment, looking up at him as I put on my sandals. Everything—the way he sat, the way he moved—I was beyond enchanted.

“I should probably go, right? I mean, we can talk later if you want. I guess I look pretty horrible right now anyway, with no shower and all.” I reached for my purse.

“Horrible?” He cocked an eyebrow. “Horrible at choosing words maybe.”