Authors: Majanka Verstraete
Soul Thief
by
Majanka Verstraete
Booktrope Editions
Seattle WA 2014
Copyright 2014 Majanka Verstraete
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 Unported License.
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No Derivative Works
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Cover Design by Rachel Mizer
Edited by Clarice Joos
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to similarly named places or to persons living or deceased is unintentional.
Print ISBN 978-1-62015-558-5
EPUB ISBN 978-1-62015-574-5
Library of Congress Control Number: 2014918017
THE WORLD EXPLODED IN
a chaos of fire, debris, and noise.
Sirens screamed and low voices mumbled in the background. I lifted up my head and groaned. My head weighed about a thousand pounds and throbbed as if someone had hit me with a hammer. The interior of the car swayed from left to right.
A dark fog rose up in front of the car. Vague specters moved back and forth in the mist. I squinted and the specters turned into paramedics dressed in white clothes with stains all over them, who ran from one patient to another. Four or more cars had collided and mine was the last in line. Two cars burned with tall, flickering flames. A woman crawled out of one of the burning cars, half of her face blackened.
My stomach twisted and bile rose up in my throat. I searched for the door handle without turning away from the apocalypse happening in front of me.
The woman with the burnt face started screaming. The sound shattered my eardrums. A paramedic rushed toward her and pulled her away from the searing car wreck.
My fingers found the door handle and I pushed the car door open. A gush of fresh air entered the car and I took a deep breath. The air filled my lungs, and even though my surroundings still swirled around as if on a carousel, they started to slow down. I fiddled with the lock of my seatbelt, trembling like a leaf. Eventually the lock clicked and I tumbled out of the car. I gripped the door handle so hard my knuckles turned white while I pulled myself up, leaning on the car.
“Are you okay?” Someone grabbed my arm and helped me to stand up.
My savior was a forty-something woman with a round face, large eyes, and a red flush on her cheeks as if she'd just run a mile. She was tall and chubby, and while she appeared friendly enough, she stared at me wide-eyed, the chaos of burning car wrecks and wounded people reflected in her irises.
“I don't know,” I said. “My head hurts and the world is spinning.”
She nodded and helped me to the nearest ambulance. “Sit down.” She waited until I'd sat down and then looked at my injuries. She dabbed a wet cloth on my forehead and when she pulled it back the cloth was stained red.
My gaze fixed on the scene unfolding behind her. Two paramedics took turns performing heart massage on a young boy, whose broken body was spread out on the ground. His skin was the color of a bridal gown and his lips had turned a faint blue. He couldn't be older than eight or nine. Broken glasses lay next to his body.
Right when the paramedics switched places, a girl appeared behind them. She popped up out of nowhere. One second there was no trace of her, the next she stood there, as if she'd been there all along.
My heart raced in my chest. I wanted to say something but the words got stuck in my throat.
The girl's red hair with black extensions reached to her shoulders. She wore a short checkered skirt, black combat boots, a venom-green tank top, and black stockings. A chain dangled from her skirt. She chewed bubblegum with her mouth open. Everything about her screamed
wrong
; from the way she'd suddenly appeared to how she carried herself, as if she was strolling around in the park on a summer's day, not standing at the scene of a gruesome accident in the middle of autumn. Even her clothes didn't match the weather.
She knelt down and put her hand on the chest of the injured boy. For a while, nothing happened. But then a see-through, shiny form rose above the boy's body. The specter looked exactly like the boy â same age, same height, same clothes, but it shone like a diamond.
I
knew
, without being able to give a reason why, that the shimmering shape lingering above the boy's body was his soul.
I jerked free from the paramedic who'd taken care of the wound on my forehead and was now bandaging my hand. “Do you see that?” I pointed my uninjured hand at the boy.
She glanced behind her shoulder. “See what?”
“That girl pulling out the boy's soul.”
The paramedic turned back to me and frowned. “There's no girl there.” She stood up straight and put her hand on my head. “No fever, but you probably have a concussion.”
“Claire!” someone shouted behind us.
The woman turned around. “What's wrong?”
The man who'd shouted pointed at a large truck laying on its side, half in and half out of a ditch. The side of the truck was decorated with the drawing of a skull, the universal sign of danger. “There's gasoline leaking out of the truck. It's going to explode. We need to get everyone out of here!”
Claire ran off toward the truck, leaving me alone. She started to help another paramedic pull a man out of a car wreck right behind the truck.
I stood up and stumbled forward. The spinning had gotten worse and I swayed from left to right.
I have to help them.
The red-haired girl turned toward the truck. She shrugged her shoulders, as if letting go of a painful burden, and then walked forward, toward Claire and the others.
Dread crawled up my spine. “No!” I reached out, my hand grazing the girl's shoulders.
She spun around so fast it made my head spin even more. She narrowed her eyes at me. There was something dangerous about her as if she was a lion, ready to jump on whatever prey presented itself.
“What are you doing here?” She used the same tone I used whenever my little sister came into my room. “You're at the wrong spot. They told me I had to do this job.”
“Job?” My voice sounded hoarse, as if I hadn't spoken in weeks. “What⦠what did you do to that boy?” Each word came out choked. Smoke from the burning cars must've entered my lungs and settled there.
The girl frowned. “You mean⦠you don't know? But you can see me. That's impossible. You can't see me and not be one of us.” She looked me up and down, her eyes growing wide. “Who are you?” she asked.
But before I could reply, the truck exploded. Large flames burst through the sky, coloring everything a red, terrifying hue. Screams echoed all around me. Claire, the paramedic who'd helped me, fell to the ground, completely engulfed in fire.
I closed my eyes and prayed I wouldn't die.
hapter 2
MY BODY HURT
as
if someone had just thrown me out of a moving train, crushed me with a bulldozer and then sent me to one of those medieval torture chambers, just to make sure.
I groaned, a rattling noise escaping my throat. My mouth was dry and a buzzing sound resonated through my ears, as if I'd listened to a concert of a band who'd decided to break all decibel rules. I blinked, trying to adjust to the glaring light humming above my head.
“You're awake.” I instantly recognized the voice as my mom's.
“Mom?” My voice sounded like sandpaper rubbed against wood. “Where am I?”
White walls entered my view, and my mom's face materialized in front of them. Her eyes were red and swollen, as if she'd been crying. Her hair, which she always styled meticulously, was a disheveled mess of blonde with brown highlights. “I'm so glad you're awake.” She squeezed my hand.
“Water,” I mumbled.
Mom handed me a glass of water. “You'll probably feel a little groggy. The doctors said that's normal.”
My hands closed around the glass and I took a drink. My throat protested when the cold liquid traveled down to my chest, but it felt like I'd gotten rid of a layer of dust, and now I could breathe again. “What happened?”
“You're in the hospital, sweetie. You've been in an accident.”
A memory flashed through my mind, of wrecked cars and high-pitched screams. And then a storm of fire, a tornado swirling right at meâ¦
I gulped down some more water in an effort to suppress the memory. “How bad was it?”
“It was really bad.” Sadness crept into my mom's voice. When I turned to her, she was biting her lip, and her eyes drowned in tears. “But you're okay. The doctors said you'll be fine. I'm so happy, and yet⦠all those people.”
Bile rose up in my throat. “How many people?”
“Nine adults, two children.” She took a tissue from a box next to her. I expected her to wipe her cheeks, but instead she leaned down to me and brushed my tears away. I hadn't even realized I was crying.
“Anyone we know?”
“Claire O'Sullivan. You probably don't know her. She was a member of my book club.”
Another flashback, this time of a round-faced, tall nurse bandaging my hand. Someone screamed, she turned around and ran right into a blazing inferno.
“I⦠I think I saw her.”
Mom's eyes went wide, and her mouth formed an âo'. Then she shook her head. “Don't think about it, sweetheart. It's no use to relive those memories. First you have to focus on getting better.”
Another memory tugged at my mind, begging me to be let in, but I pushed it back. An image of a young boy flashed through my mind before I could stop it, but then it vanished again like a ghost.
“Where's Dad? And Cassie?”
“They're at the cafeteria. We've been here all day and Cassie was starting to get hungry.”
Despite all of it, I smiled. My little sister was always hungry and she could eat twice as much as other children her age. Her eating habits had made her kind of chubby, but she was still young enough for it to be cute.
“She gets that from you, you know.” Mom tugged a strand of loose hair behind my ear. “You eat like a pig.”
“Not true. I have a healthy appetite, that's all.”
She sighed and gave me a kiss on the forehead. “You've no idea how glad I am you're all right. When they showed the accident on TV, my heart stopped. When I saw the car⦔ She paused and licked her lips. “It was like the world had stopped turning.”
I grabbed her hand. “I'm fine, Mom. You don't have to worry anymore.”
At that moment, the door opened and a woman appeared. She was dressed in a doctor's cloak, but she looked so young she'd probably barely finished college. Her hair was tied in a bun, she wore oversized glasses, and she moved around like a nervous squirrel. She smiled at me, revealing large teeth that didn't fit in her mouth.
“I see you're awake.” She paused and glanced down at the folder she was holding. “Riley Scott.” She walked over to me and before I could blink, she stood near my bed, holding out a hand.
I frowned and hesitated before I shook her hand.
“I'm Dr. Delaney Waters,” she introduced herself. “Well, Riley, looks like you were very lucky. You're bruised just about everywhere, but nothing is broken, you only have a slight concussion, and apart from that, you're fine.” She turned to Mom now. “You should be able to take her home by tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” I groaned and leaned back against the pillows. “Why not today? Sure, I still feel like someone used me as a punching bag, but I can rest at home.” I looked at Mom for support â she knew how much I hated hospitals. It wasn't just the smell creeping through the hallways like an illness-spreading predator, but also the way doctors could give you the worst news in the world without flinching, as if they were zombies instead of humans.
Mom ignored me though and kept her eyes focused on the doctor.
Delaney, or Squirrel because that name seemed to suit her a lot better, shook her head, all the while keeping that sickening smile on her face. “We want to keep you one night for observation in case your concussion turns out to be worse than we thought.”
I grumbled and crossed my arms. The movement hurt me so much I had to bite my tongue to keep from crying out.
“Well, I'll get going,” Squirrel said. “If you need anything else, push that button over there and I, or a nurse, will come see you.” She hurried out of the room, a bundle of energy and speed.
“I don't want to stay.” I sighed, and let Mom ruffle my hair. I always liked head massages, and today I particularly needed one. “But if you think it's for the best, then I won't argue about it.”
“Very wise. You wouldn't get out of it anyway.” Mom's voice had lost its sadness, and this time when she smiled, the smile reached her eyes.
“Can you at least turn on the TV? Or bring me a book?”
“No books. You should rest.” But she did turn on the TV, and I smiled at my small victory.
Then another flashback fought its way into my mind; a young girl with red hair, bending over the lifeless body of a boy. Then she put her hand over his chest and grimaced. An exact replica of the boy hovered over his body. The replica shone like a brilliant light. Then the girl turned and looked at me, and her eyes went wide.
“Are you okay?” Mom's face appeared above mine. Sweat glistened on her forehead and the panic I'd seen in the girl's eyes was reflected in hers.
“I'm fine, just having a flashback of the accident.” A dull, throbbing pain spread across my forehead.
Mom's expression softened. The panic vanished from her eyes, replaced by warmth and love. She stroked my cheek. “The doctor mentioned the hospital has psychologists available to help people who went through something traumatic, like you did. We can make an appointment first thing tomorrow.”
I shrugged. Psychologists weren't my favorite people in the world because they tended to stick their noses in everyone's business, but I was in no mood to argue with Mom.
Cassie and Dad burst into the room and the door nearly jumped out of its hinges. Cassie squeaked when she saw me and ran straight at me. “Riley! You're awake.” She lifted her six-year-old body onto my bed in seconds and threw her arms around my neck. “I missed you.”
I glanced past her at Dad. He was a six foot tall office clerk who never went to work without a proper tie and suit, cleanly shaven and hair combed as if he'd just stepped outside the hairdresser. Now his brown hair looked as if he'd slept on it, his tie hung loosely around his neck, and the shadow of a beard covered his face.
Tears pricked in my eyes. “Dad⦔
He stepped forward, put one arm around Mom and the other around me and Cassie, and then we were hugging and crying and hugging some more.
* * *
I woke up several hours later. My stomach grumbled, demanding something better than hospital food, but unfortunately that would have to wait until tomorrow.
I'd had the most horrible nightmare but I could only recall parts of it. The flying tornado of fire was the worst part. At one point, I was watching this paramedic walk away from me, the next thing I knew she was completely engulfed in flames, crying out in so much pain it made my eardrums bleed. The red-haired girl just stood there, as serene as a statue instead of a human, and she didn't lift a finger to help any of them.
Then again, neither did I, but for some reason I thought she could help them, which was absurd, of course. After the explosion, nobody could've helped them anymore.
My entire body started trembling and tears rolled down my cheeks. I never cried â at least, not often. When our cat died, and when Aunt Beth had to be taken to the hospital for cancer, then I cried. Apart from that, I rarely ever shed tears. But what had happened yesterday, the fragments I could remember of the accident, reduced me to a crying wreck.
I pushed my torso up to sit up straight. My head throbbed but it was a dull pain, nothing compared to what it had been before. I lifted one knee out of bed and then the other. This alone took me about five minutes, and by the time my legs were dangling out of the bed, my head was spinning like a top.
The doctor would probably forbid me getting out of bed without any help, but she hadn't expressly mentioned it, so at least she couldn't scold me for doing so. Besides, a walk would probably help clear my head, and anything was better than lying here and reliving fragments of the accident over and over again without being able to change the outcome.
I stumbled out of the room, holding on to walls, closets and my bed not to fall over. This ranked as very high on the list of âterribly bad ideas', but my stubbornness defeated my rationality once again. I pushed open the door to the hallway and was immediately greeted by a cacophony of voices and footsteps.
The clock on the wall opposite my room revealed it was eight o'clock in the evening, and the hospital was still bristling with activity. Nurses ran up and down the hallway and all of them seemed to be in a hurry. Patients wobbled through the hall at a much slower pace, all dressed in pajamas or hospital gowns. My own pink-with-bunnies pajamas didn't look out of place at all. At least it was better than the hospital gown I'd woken up in and I was glad Mom had helped me put them on earlier.
I limped through the hallway, careful not to walk too fast because jerky movements made me dizzy. The longer I walked, the better I felt. Sure, it drained my energy but at least it cheered me up.
Then I stopped dead in my tracks and my jaw dropped to the floor.
The red-haired girl from the accident stood at the end of the hallway staring right at me, her green eyes boring into mine. She motioned for me to come closer. Then she turned around and started walking away.
I followed her as fast as I could, forgetting all about my broken body and bruises. I half-stumbled, half-tumbled through the hallway and went around the corner to the corridor she'd disappeared into.
She stood near a door at the end of this next hallway, tapping her foot on the ground and glancing at her watch. She rolled her eyes when she saw me and then vanished into the room.
My heart stopped beating and my stomach twisted, and this time around it wasn't from the hospital food. The girl had literally vanished through the door without opening it. Like a ghost.
You're hallucinating, Riley. People don't just walk through doors. Ghosts aren't real.
I leaned onto the wall for support, and my mind jumped back and forth between what I was going to do now. Go in and check it out? See if this girl was some kind of spirit after all? Or run back to my room, blame this all on hallucinations and my concussion and hope I'd never see her again?
Like I would ever do that. As usual, stubbornness and curiosity got the better of me. I took a deep breath and continued down the hallway as fast as I could. My legs dragged behind me, each weighing about a ton. I drew rapid, ragged breaths, but eventually I made it to the door.
All right, Riley. This is it. Now or never.
I took a deep breath and pushed the door open.
Whatever I expected, it wasn't this.
The girl leaned against the wall, chewing bubblegum as if she had no care in the world. The majority of the room however, was dominated by a hospital bed. An old woman with snow-white hair and parchment-colored skin lay unconscious in the bed, attached to a dozen machines beeping monotonously.
The redhead had her arms crossed. Her black boots with chains were in stark contrast to her jeans and plaid shirt, like she'd wanted to combine the bad-ass look with something more casual. “About time you showed up,” she said with a hint of annoyance.
“Excuse me?” I raised my eyebrows. “Who the hell are you, and what do you want?” My posture must've looked anything but threatening, with me wearing my pink pajamas and all, but I didn't care. I put my hands on my hips and stared her up and down.
“I'm Diane,” she said. The name didn't suit her at all; it was like calling a dog a cat. I'd expected something gothic or mysterious, like Raven or Felicity. “And trust me when I tell you, I didn't want this at all.”
“Want what?”
“To meet you. You've complicated my day, my week, heck, probably my whole month.” She pushed away from the wall and turned to me. “You'll have to come with me.”
“Come with you?” I backed away. “Like hell I will. You owe me an explanation. Why were you at the accident? Why did no one else see you? Why are you here? How come you can walk through
doors
?” My tone got increasingly higher as I spoke.
“Chill out, will you? Someone could hear you.” Diane rolled her eyes at me. “Humans are so annoying with all their questions. Fine, you want answers, I'll give you some.” She sighed and pursed her lips. “I'm an Angel of Death, and I was at the accident to collect people's souls. People can't see me unless it's their time to go. Or unless they're an Angel of Death themselves.”
