Soul Crossed (6 page)

“Hey,” I say, catching up to Shelby. “You’re a pretty good actress.”

“You really think so?” she asks. Her whole body leans forward. This is going to be so easy. Girls like Shelby crave attention from hot guys like me.

“I’m surprised Grace got Juliet,” I say this softly while looking her in the eyes.

Five minutes later we are under the bleachers ripping off each other’s jackets. She isn’t Grace, but why turn down a free meal? She’s surprisingly aggressive, which I appreciate in a girl, as she pulls at my shirt and sucks in my lower lip.

I return the favor and start working at the buttons on her blouse. But as my fingers slip inside her collar to stroke her neck, something brushes against my hand, burning me like a hot poker. I pull away sharply.

“What the Hell?” I can’t control my temper, so I turn away, shielding her from my eyes. I cradle my wrist and examine it. The shape of a small cross pulses red, branded into my skin. But as I watch, it fades back to normal.

“Are you OK?” Shelby is all concern, pulling at my arm, trying to turn me around. “It must have been my cross. I’m so sorry! Did it cut you?”

I spin to face her, the picture of composure. “That’s very pretty. Where did you get it?”

“Oh. My grandmother gave it to me before she died. She said it would always protect me, and I wear it everyday. You know, not because I’m superstitious and all, but because it reminds me of her.”

“Well, it certainly protected you from me,” I say with a smile. I’ll have to remember that. No crosses. Figures.

“That’s a shame. I don’t want to be protected from you,” she says, and she steps toward me.

“I have to go. Sorry. And Shelby?”

“Yes?” she asks, disappointment written all over her face.

“You won’t remember any of this, OK?”

It’s just as well. Grace is the one I can’t get off my mind. I can wait a couple more hours if it means getting what I want.

I don’t mind doing homework for English Lit. I know Cam isn’t in the class with me, but I can’t help it. It’s always been my favorite subject. I spread out at a corner table in the library and relish the solitude my location provides. But my mind keeps flying back to the auditions, back to Josh, back to the idea that I’ve agreed to dinner with him. My heart races, and I find it difficult to focus on
Beowulf
.

I’ve had crushes before. I am—or was—sixteen. It’s no surprise that someone as beautiful as Josh would bring up those feelings again. Especially when he seems just as interested in me as I am in him. Even now the thought brings heat to my cheeks.

I can’t let this get out of hand, though. It wouldn’t be fair. Not to him and not to me. I’m only here for a short time, and we can’t possibly have a future together. Still, Ms. Alvarez did say I could visit any earth-bound mortals I want once I earn my wings…

With a sigh, I pile my books back inside my bag. This isn’t working. Maybe if I do a little internet research I’ll be able to concentrate. I reserve one of the computer stations from a little gray-haired librarian with a nametag that reads “Lucille” and start Googling.

Three printouts later, and I still can’t concentrate. It isn’t just Josh that’s distracting me now, though. It’s the girl at the station to my left. She looks like my friend Emily, who I was with when I died.

I keep catching the glint from the reflection off her glasses and looking over. She has the same dark shiny hair, thick black eyebrows, and heart shaped face. I find myself wondering if she is also head of the Science Club and if she likes Taylor Swift but can’t stand Miley Cyrus.

She catches my eye and smiles. I force myself to grin back and concentrate on the blank screen in front of me. The cursor blinks, teasing me, and I fall right into its trap.
Gracelyn Howard
, I type.
Dead
.

My fingers shake as they hover above the mouse. I got used to the idea during my time in Heaven, but now that I’m down here again, it all just seems so surreal.

I don’t register the tears flowing down my face until I hear my name.

“Grace!” It’s Fatmeh. She’s waving at me from the front of the computer desk, Lucille frowning at her for her outburst. I quickly wipe at my face with the back of my sleeve and paste on my best smile.

“Hi!” I whisper as she approaches, hastily closing the window with my article.

“Working on that Lit assignment?” she asks.

“Yep. Grendel sure is creepy.”

“I know, huh? Makes you glad those kind of evil creatures aren’t real. Still, part of me has to wonder. Things like that are in every culture. Stories of vampires, ghosts, and Demons.” She shivers.

“I don’t know,” I say. “I mean, I think it just shows how great our collective imagination is as a species.”

“So you don’t believe in that stuff?” she asks.

“I think real evil isn’t so cut and dry. Sometimes it wears the face of a friend or an average person. That’s what makes it so insidious.”

When I can’t put it off any longer, I head over to Cam’s house. The way is familiar now. I’ve learned his mother works nights at the hospital, so he barely sees her. She has no idea what he’s up to. I wonder sometimes what type of woman she is.

As soon as he sees me coming, he runs out to greet me. I follow him straight to the woods behind the condo, where I dump my backpack on the remains of a rotting gazebo. I’ve been here before.

Over the past few weeks, he’s shown me his weapons. Several knives, a Ninja-style sword, a bow and arrows that he made himself, a handgun and a rifle he says used to be his dad’s. I don’t question this—just act fascinated while he practices on the trees.

Today he pulls out the homemade archery set.

“It’s cool and all, but I’ve seen it.” I wonder if I’m supposed to add
so go make a bomb, that’ll really impress me
. I can’t bring myself to do it.

“Yeah, but I built something that’s gonna help us practice,” he says, and I try to act excited while he pulls out a big metal trap from some brush. Inside there’s a rabbit. It looks pretty scared, like it might keel over at any moment. Cam shakes the cage, and it skitters to the side blinking at me in Morse code.
Help me. Help me
. It’s just a rabbit, I remind myself.

“Wow. You caught something.”

“Yeah, and I’m building another one so we can both have a live target. I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty tired of throwing knives at tree trunks.” Yeah, I was kind of tired of that. I’ve been purposely missing to keep him blind to my true nature. And also to boost his confidence. It might be working a little too well.

“Sounds good, Cam.” I glance at my watch. Four o’clock. I have an hour to humor psycho, then I can have my reward. I only hope Grace doesn’t wear a cross.

“I wonder what it will feel like,” he says. His face is flushed.

“What?” I ask.

“Dying. I wonder what it’s like to know that kind of pain is coming. That it’s the last thing you’ll ever feel. That there’s nothing you can do to stop it.”

“I don’t know, dude. I’m guessing it’s a pretty shitty feeling. I don’t think most people know it’s coming, though.” I sure as Hell didn’t.

“I suppose not. I doubt this little guy has any idea.” He pokes at the cage, and the rabbit shivers. I’m pretty sure it
does
know what’s coming. At least on some level.

“OK, do you trust me?” he asks. Thunder cracks from above and we both flinch.

“Sure.” I say it because he expects it.

“Then go over there, and when I give the signal, open the door.”

I hesitate. “You are going to wait until it’s
away
from the cage a bit?” I know he’s a good shot, but I don’t relish the thought of being pierced by an arrow. I may be already dead, but I can feel pain.

“Of course,” he says. So I tote the cage over to the designated spot and watch for the signal. He readies the bow and nods. I open the cage. The rabbit hesitates, unsure of what to do. He’s used to freezing as a defense. But he’s also smart enough to know there’s only one way out, and it happens to be wide open.

The rabbit bursts from the cage, bounding toward the cover of the trees. For a moment I think he’s going to make it, but the arrow slices the air, skewering him in mid leap. The sound is something akin to slicing through a rare steak, and I know I’m eating vegetarian for dinner.

Josh doesn’t keep me waiting for long. He pulls up in front of the school in a red Mustang convertible. The top is down despite the lightning that flashes between the clouds. I shake my head in disbelief.

“I’m full of fun surprises,” he says, reaching across the console to swing open the door.

“Just so long as it isn’t stolen,” I say, climbing in. I barely get the door closed before he’s gunning the engine and throwing it into third. I grasp behind me for the seatbelt. “Seriously, where’d you get this?”

“Keira lent it to me,” he says with a wink. I hope she knows she lent it. She seems like the type you shouldn’t mess with. I decide not to question anymore. I want to enjoy myself for one evening. Maybe if I take a break, I’ll come back to my task with a fresh perspective.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

“Pizza,” he says, like there could be no other answer.

I laugh for the first time in a long time, and we are off, our hair flying in the wind. It’s a wonderful feeling, like being free. And then a single, fat raindrop falls in my lap. I look up as the Heavens burst open, and all Hell breaks loose.

By the time we are safely inside, we are soaked through to the bone. Josh managed to get the top back on, finally, but I doubt Keira will be lending him her car again any time soon.

“Two for dinner,” Josh tells the hostess, a young girl who eyes him hungrily. He doesn’t seem to notice, for once. He helps me peel off my jean jacket. I realize after an awkward moment that I’m wearing a white shirt. But I see no solution, as putting the jacket back on would be torturous.

I can’t help blushing as we’re seated across from each other, and his gaze drifts downward, but not quite to his menu. The waiter interrupts, and for a moment, I’m glad it’s a he, so there won’t be anymore ogling of Josh.

“What can I get you?” he asks.

“We’ll have a large cheese pizza and garlic rolls,” Josh says.

“And a Greek salad,” I add.

I’m busy wringing out my hair over my napkin when Josh surprises me yet again.

“I don’t know how long I’m going to be here,” he says.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“It’s just,” he hesitates, looking down. I wait, frozen, for fear of stopping him. It’s so rare for him to open up. “My family might be moving.”

“Oh,” I say. It’s not like this could have gone anywhere anyway. I’m leaving, too, eventually. “Where?” I ask after a minute.

“Seattle,” he says. I meet his eyes. The one place I want to go more than anything else. Is it possible I’ll need to add Josh to the list of family and friends I’m forbidden to see?

I’m miserable. I pick at the deep-dish pizza and smile politely at his conversation. But all I can think about is how much I’m going to miss him. Which is ridiculous, I remind myself. I don’t even know him all that well. I believe he sees it in my face. At first he seems satisfied that I care. Then he seems concerned. I wonder if he regrets telling me the news.

I reach for the Parmesan cheese, and our hands touch. An electric shock pulses between us, so strong I see blue sparks spike into the air around our skin. At that precise moment, thunder crashes so hard the entire roof shakes. I yank my hand away as hail begins to pelt the building in a violent assault from above.

“It was me,” we both say at the same time. Our eyes meet over the table.

“I must have rubbed my feet along the carpet on the way in,” I say.

“That must be it,” he agrees. “Spooky, huh?”

My stomach sinks. It had to be me. I must’ve broken a rule, done something wrong by touching Josh. I excuse myself to use the ladies room and debate my options while in the stall as the hail beats down like a drum. Try as I might, I can’t think of an alternative. I cannot see him anymore.

Keira is dancing with three men at once. I can feel the lust roll off of them from across the room. I can smell their breath, too. The entire club is doused in cheap beer and vomit. I watch, glued to the way her hips roll in a rhythm to the music. I’m thinking of sex, but it’s Grace I imagine. Blonde hair falling in her face as she looks down at me.

The song ends and Keira leaves the men confused and alone on the dance floor. When she’s by my side, I catch the scent of cinnamon in the air. As far as I can tell, she does this every night.

“Doesn’t it ever get boring?” I ask her, downing a shot of whisky.

“Yes,” she says, leaning back on her elbows against the bar, breasts practically exposed from the plunging neckline of her dress. If you can call three strips of material a dress. “But after three hundred and fifty years, I do what I can.”

“You haven’t asked me to dance,” I say.

“You’re the one who publicly announced we’re siblings,” she says, draping her arms around my neck. “Such a shame,” she whispers in my ear.

I use my glamour on the bartender, who brings me another drink on the house. I tried to convince Grace to come, but she wanted me to drop her at the school again right after dinner.

“Don’t look so glum,” Keira says. “You’re such a downer tonight.”

“Then do something to cheer me up,” I say. She grins wickedly and darts under my arm to pull a man away from his girlfriend and onto the dance floor. The girl looks dumfounded. She’s quite attractive with ebony skin that shines beneath the strobe lights. I step between her and her view of her cheating man and turn on the charm.