The Soul Thief (19 page)

Eddie had provided the box—plain pine, with the wood dyed red and the insides covered in a green felt so dark it were almost black.

The pain in Franklin’s side had mostly gone away. He weren’t sure if it would come back to haunt him, as it were, some nights when there were ghosts hanging around the property who’d gotten restless.

Franklin dug a hole right in front of his cornfield—the spot where that first ghost had entered it and passed beyond. He hoped that white man had found his peace, somehow.

They buried the knife that Sunday afternoon, Franklin slipping away from Aunt Jasmine and the rest of the family, claiming he still needed more healing time.

The day was clear and warm, the summer sun starting to make itself known. The pond in Mrs. Averson’s field had already dried up, the frogs disappearing. Or had that been the ghosts? Wind blew the sound of the interstate over the pair of them, like the shushing of waves.

After Franklin put the box in the hole, he weren’t sure what to say. “Rest in peace,” he eventually came up with. “I wish peace for you and all those souls you’ve touched.”

And good hunting,
Franklin added silently, remembering that glimpse he’d gotten of that other world.

Julie added a prayer that she’d gotten from Eddie, asking Brigid and those other gods Franklin didn’t believe in to help the blade find its peace. Then she took three of the four rocks she’d blessed with sage and rosemary and placed them on the wooden box in the hole. She gave the last one to Franklin, for him to place with the others.

Julie added, “Sleep and rest.”

Then Franklin started filling the rest of the hole back in.

After Franklin finished, he and Julie stayed in the backyard, sharing a beer. The evening started to settle around them, the air still warm but growing soft.

Franklin knew that Julie had things to say. He weren’t certain, but he thought he might have more words to share with her as well.

He still took his time, and gave her the space she needed to find her tongue.

Finally, she came out with it.

“Were you serious, earlier?” she asked.

Franklin merely raised his eyebrows at her. He weren’t quite sure what time earlier she was talking about.

He certainly loved her, that much he knew.

“About starting a family,” she finally clarified.

“Someday, yes,” Franklin said.

She shot him a look. Was she anxious? Nervous?

Franklin reached across the white metal table that stood between them and took her hand. “Not now,” he said, caressing the soft skin of the back of her hand with his rough fingers.

Julie seemed to relax. “I’m not ready yet, either.” She paused, then looked out over the fields. “Maybe not ever.”

Franklin paused. “I ain’t gonna lie. I do want kids. More family.” To be able to watch them grow up. To become the best dad he could be.

Maybe even pass along a little of what he’d learned.

But Julie seemed to accept that. Or maybe she was just happy he’d told her the truth. “What if they’re like you?” Julie asked.

Franklin blinked, surprised. Was that what this was all about? Did Julie have problems with him and his ghosts? He thought she’d come to accept that part of him.

Though she didn’t really know much about them, he had to admit. He’d always been uncomfortable talking about them with her.

“Then we’ll train our kids up right,” he replied gently. “Train them to do their duty.”

Julie sighed and took another sip of her beer. “I just don’t know,” she said softly. “Some days I think holding onto my own little girl would make the world perfect. Other days, well, maybe my world’s already perfect enough.”

“I can’t make that decision for you,” Franklin said. “And I’ll try not to pressure you about it.” They’d have a rich, full life without any young ones, he knew that.

Just as he knew that his heart would always ache sometimes for the little girls and boys he never got to hold.

Julie nodded. She appeared satisfied. “I’m not saying no to kids, not putting my foot down. I just don’t know. However, if I do decide that I want kids someday, I’d like to have them with you,” she said very softly.

Franklin tugged on their joined hands, pulling Julie into his lap. He kissed her softly, sweetly, giving her kisses full of promises and love. He didn’t know what the future held for them. He’d just have to wait and see.

As things was starting to get interesting between them, Franklin’s side twinged.

He stiffened.

“What’s wrong?” Julie asked. “Am I too heavy?” she asked, starting to rise.

“No, it’s not that,” Franklin said.

He looked out past Julie.

A ghost stood next to the spot where they’d buried the blade. She looked forlorn, lost, though she was wearing what had probably been her Sunday best—a floral dress with a darker jacket, and pearls that still shone against her dark, black skin.

Franklin looked at Julie, then back at the ghost. Then he nodded, decision made.

He helped Julie stand up, then took her hand and walked the pair of them over to where the ghost was standing. He kissed her temple, then asked, “Trust me?”

She nodded slowly.

Franklin squeezed her hand one more time, then took another step forward.

“Good evening, ma’am,” he said, addressing the ghost. “Fine night, tonight.”

The ghost turned her look of longing toward him, then back out, over the field. Her
intent
flowed out from her in waves: She wanted to keep going, but she just didn’t know how.

“I think I can help you with that,” Franklin told the ghost.

Julie squeezed Franklin’s hand, then walked back to where they’d been sitting, giving Franklin the space he needed to do his work, his duty.

It would take time, Franklin knew, for them to figure out all the ins and outs, between her work and his. Between time for them and time for his duty. And maybe family time, someday, as well.

But they could do it.

And maybe, just maybe, someday Franklin would get to have the only type of immortality he was willing to strive for…a little girl with Julie’s smile and powers all her own.

About the Author

Leah Cutter writes page-turning fiction in exotic locations, such as a magical New Orleans, the ancient Orient, Hungary, the Oregon coast, rural Kentucky, Seattle, Minneapolis, and many others.

She writes literary, fantasy, mystery, science fiction, and horror fiction. Her short fiction has been published in magazines like Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine and Talebones, anthologies like Fiction River, and on the web. Her long fiction has been published both by New York publishers as well as small presses.

Find Leah’s books here.

Follow her blog at
www.LeahCutter.com.

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Read Book One of the Chronicles of Franklin,
The Popcorn Thief
.

Ghosts get stuck sometimes.

Franklin helps them move from this world to the next. Sometimes that means giving a ghost a ride so they can confront their killer. Other times, it means listening to the wind in his fields and the trucks blowing down the interstate and hearing the songs a ghost needs to sing.

Generally, Franklin happily does whatever a ghost needs. It’s his duty.

Then Gloria shows up. She wants Franklin to steal the crop of his rival, Karl—they compete every year at the Kentucky State Fair for the blue ribbon prize for who grows the best popping corn.

Franklin’s no thief. His mama taught him better.

But something else is out there, hiding in the fields. Something much worse than a ghost.

A creature that’s not interested in stealing crops, but in taking people’s lives and powers.

A thing that Franklin and his family must stop.

Available from
Book View Café
or your
favorite retailers.