Soul Crossed, page 2
I tried out a few things. First, I recreated the party Emily and I went to the night I died. But as much as I’ve always loved moving to the music, it was too weird staring at an empty house. Without the people to fill it, it only felt cold and creepy. Then I tried my favorite spot in the library, but as much as I adore getting lost in a book, I couldn’t stop thinking about everything I’ve lost.
So now it’s just like my bedroom at home. A small rectangular room with a twin bed, desk, dresser, and mirror. The walls and comforter are covered in roses. I know it can be bigger, but I don’t care. This way I can pretend I’m still there and instead of Ms. Alvarez, it’s my brother down the hall, or my mom and dad.
But most of my time is spent in the classroom, learning how to save souls and use my new Angelic Powers for good. I admit it’s neat to know that I’m kind of like a superhero, with my enhanced strength and magnetism, but the truth is I don’t like too much attention, so I’m kind of worried about how much others will be drawn to me.
And the whole glamour thing? That’s downright frightening. What if I accidentally tell someone to do something dangerous? That’s where “responsibility” comes in, according to Ms. A. She reminds me constantly that I’ve been chosen to be an Angel and wouldn’t have that opportunity if I wasn’t capable of handling it.
That doesn’t make me feel any more confident.
“Your tea’s getting cold, dear,” she says, and pinches my cheek. I don’t know which I hate more, the cheek thing or the tea.
I shudder slightly, and when she’s not looking I will away the tea so it looks like I drank it. I have to remind myself that she’s doing her best, and it isn’t her fault I died.
“So, how do I know which soul needs saving?” I ask.
“Excellent question. You will be assigned a soul on the cusp, and you lead them toward the light.”
Ms. A is full of clichés like that. Apparently she was a staunch Catholic in life and clearly feels Heaven was her reward. She makes no comment on the fact that my family was Presbyterian and not all that religious, and I still ended up here.
A knock on the door startles me. I was starting to think we were alone for all eternity.
Ms. A straightens up as she smoothes back her curly hair and calls in a too-high voice, “Come in.”
In strides a man of about six feet, with smooth ebony skin and a bald head. His eyes are like hot chocolate, and they warm my insides the moment they catch mine. I feel my melancholy mood vanish, replaced by a genuine smile that the man returns.
“Mr. Griffith. So good to see you. Please, have a seat.”
A large, padded chair appears next to me, but turns into a desk just like mine as he sits. “And you must be Grace,” he says, in a deep, melodic voice.
“Yes, sir.”
“And how are you doing, Grace? You’ve been through quite an ordeal. It isn’t easy to transition, especially when you aren’t prepared and so very young.”
The sorrow I’ve stuffed down inside threatens to pop to the surface as he stares intently at me. I long to throw myself into his arms and cry, but that’s ridiculous—he’s barely said hello, Angel or not.
“She’s doing a marvelous job.” Ms. A swoops in, squeezing between us. “She’s a special girl, Mr. Griffith. She’ll be ready for her first assignment soon.”
“And are you certain this is the right assignment?” Mr. Griffith asks.
“Absolutely.” Ms. A straightens to her full height, which isn’t that tall. “I have full faith in her. She’s been an exemplary student.”
That’s the kind of student I was in life. Straight A’s. Always made curfew. Never did drugs or drank or smoked. Yet here I am.
Dead.
“I don’t doubt it,” Mr. Griffith says, bringing me back to the present. “But if you need help, Grace, don’t be afraid to ask. There’s no shame in asking for help.”
“Thank you,” I say. “I will.”
“Now, just pretend I’m not here.” Mr. Griffith leans back in his seat and winks at me.
Ms. A clears her throat and walks back around to the other side of her desk. “This is your assignment, Grace. His name is Camden.” She swirls a hand through the air between us and an image appears inside.
It’s a boy, probably close to my age. He’s in a hallway filled with lockers and students. But I notice that the others seem to give him a wide berth, almost like there’s an invisible bubble of about twenty feet surrounding him. He’s standing with his head down, hair hanging over his eyes.
“Why do they do that?” I ask, angry at the others for avoiding the poor guy like that.
“It’s their subconscious,” Ms. A says. “They sense the evil within him, though they don’t really understand what it is.”
“Evil?” I may be in Heaven, but I still don’t know if I buy the whole “some people are born evil” thing.
“The propensity for evil,” Mr. Griffith says softly. So softly that maybe Ms. A doesn’t hear.
“Inside this boy,” Ms. A. says, “is the ability to destroy everything you know on Earth. But it doesn’t have to be that way. You can save him, Grace. You can save the world.”
No pressure, then.
Chapter 5
Josh
I lean back against the locker, enjoying the feel of the smooth, cold metal against my back. Michigan isn’t all that different than Seattle. The same groups of kids, separated like oil from water: the jocks, the nerds, the cheerleaders, the goths.
Several girls are checking me out from the other end of the hall. I know this because of my new, enhanced senses. I can see over forty feet away. I also have super strength, the glamour, and enhanced emotions, though I’m still not sure why that last one’s a good thing. Despite my doubts, everything is vibrant and intense, and I’m enjoying the feeling of power. If I’d felt like this when I was alive, I might’ve avoided taking the edge off and things could have ended differently.
That’s when I see him—the sophomore I’ve been looking for. He’s just rushed in, head down, long dark hair swinging in his face, books clutched to his chest like a life-preserver. I’m surprised he doesn’t bump into anyone with his face obscured that way, but the other students seem to give him a wide berth like he’s contagious. This should be a piece of cake.
I wait for the first bell to ring, wait for everyone to clear out of the hall before approaching him so it is just the two of us.
“Hey,” I say. He looks up, wide-eyed, like a rat caught in the kitchen.
“Uh, hi,” he says, and flicks the hair away from his face. He’s not a bad looking kid. I wonder how he became such a loner.
“My name’s Josh. Nice to meet you.” I stick out my hand. He hesitates, small eyes narrowing, sizing me up. I fight off a shiver and nearly laugh because what does a Demon need to be scared of? He’s half my size, and he’s probably just trying to figure out if I’m going to prank him or beat him up. I wait ’til he’s ready, then shake his sweaty hand and do my best not to wipe my palm afterward. “You need some help finding classes?”
The Boss assured me that everyone would assume I’ve been a student at North Farmington High School for over a year. And if I have any trouble, I have my glamour.
“S-s-sure. I’m C-C-C-Camden Frasier.” The last comes out in a rush as though shot like an arrow. Ah, a stutter. I’m starting to understand the loner status. The corners of his mouth turn upwards ever so slightly, and I smile back.
“Hey look!” I feign excitement. “We have first period together.” He bites.
“C-c-cool.”
I escort him to geometry, which I failed last year, probably because I skipped about two-thirds of the classes. Better than the unfathomable tortures of Hell…I think. The teacher, Ms. Shoemaker, looks about to chew us out for being late, so I catch her eye, and lay on the glamour I’ve been given, willing her to let it go. Her face goes blank for just a moment, then she turns a little red and welcomes us to the class, instructing us to take a seat.
Only two desks available. I take the one closest to the back. Camden takes the one in front of me. I can’t help but notice the blonde sitting in the front row as she turns to smile back at him. Maybe I should’ve taken his seat instead. My bad. Oh well, maybe she’ll be in some more of our classes. Camden and I “accidentally” have almost every period together.
“I’m just no good at geometry,” the blonde is telling Camden. “Maybe you and I could, you know, study together?” Damn, I should have paid more attention last year.
She crosses her legs and leans over the back of the chair, blinking her huge brown eyes at him. Is she flirting with C-C-Camden? No way. She looks like the head-cheerleader or prom-queen type, not flirt-with-the-awkward-sophomore type. Maybe it’s some kind of cruel joke. That could work in my favor…
I wait until she catches my eye, then wink. It was inevitable she’d look over eventually. I mean, I am sitting right behind the dork and I mean, well, I’m me. Her gaze lingers, and I relax back in the chair, tossing my dark curls away from my face so she can get a good look at the baby blues. Wait—she’s turning back toward Camden with a smile.
“Mr. Gaynes,” Ms. Shoemaker chides. “I’m sure Miss Howard is far more entertaining than a review of the Pythagorean theorem, but even so…”
“Sorry,” I say, sitting up straight. The inevitable snickers sound all around, and I fight back a rage that threatens to choke me. I can feel my eyes burn hot and look quickly down. I was warned about my newer, stronger emotions giving away my nature and recall the red in Lucifer’s eyes. I can’t let anyone know what I am. No one would trust a Demon.
Chapter 6
Grace
I have a weird sense about the boy Ms. Shoemaker calls “Mr. Gaynes.” He’s hot, of course, with his glossy midnight curls and startling blue eyes, his chiseled features and ripped pecks that show right through his tight black T-shirt. He’s the kind of boy that’ll break your heart in a second and move onto the next girl by lunch. But that’s not what throws me off. It’s more like a feeling of familiarity; a tingling along the back of my neck that won’t let me shove him aside. I find it most distracting when all I want to do is get on with this task.
It isn’t that I want to go back to Heaven. I loathed the time I spent in Ms. A’s class. She might mean well, but I’m sick of all the lectures about Lucifer and End Times and all the things that are inappropriate for Angels. The one thing that kept me sane was my downtime, when I could imagine different things and poof—there they were. The homecoming dress my mother made me? Poof. A new journal? Poof. A picture of my mother and me from our girl’s night in June? Poof. Too bad I couldn’t conjure people. Not that I’m allowed to even visit my family, and they’re the only thing I really want.
But seeing them again isn’t impossible. During my training, Ms. Alvarez said one thing that stuck out above all others: “When you earn your wings, you can visit any Earth-bound mortals you wish.” I can see my family again. All I have to do is save one measly little soul. How hard can that be? After all, the propensity for evil isn’t the same thing as actual flat out evil, right?
I’ll admit I was worried at first, despite my new abilities: will over others, strength, enhanced senses and emotions. Ms. A made me so afraid I’ll accidentally abuse them. None of them felt right to exercise, even on my subject.
That is, until I saw him in person. When Camden walked through the door I relaxed all over. He reminds me of my brother of about the same age, Noah, who I can easily imagine drawing Manga at his desk. I push those memories away as my hands begin to shake.
This boy seems shy and awkward, not the potential killing machine Ms. Alvarez described with such zealous detail. I wonder if she was confused. Perhaps she meant for me to save the boy behind him. The one who feels…familiar.
Of course, I know that’s ridiculous. This is Michigan. I’m from Seattle. Still, my sixth sense is telling me something, and it could be important. He did come in with Camden. That must be it—he’s somehow involved in this. I’ll have to get to know him, too. It shouldn’t be too hard, the way he keeps looking at me. Still, I try to give my full attention to Camden. He’s the one I’m here to save.
He’s the one who could potentially destroy the world.
Chapter 7
Josh
I’m in luck—the leggy blonde is in most of my classes. Since she’s inexplicably cuddling up to Cam, even joining us for lunch, I get to know her, too. She’s my usual type—hot. And Lucifer said I could enjoy myself so long as I didn’t get “lost” along the way. He also said someone would be watching me. Could it be her? No way. She’s no minion from Hell. She’s a save-the-planet, sickeningly-cute, probably-loves-puppies girl. And her name is Grace. That’s no name for a Demon. I guess Josh isn’t either, but it’s better than Grace.
Still, I can feel an undeniable magnetism between us. I wonder what my new enhanced senses will do for me in bed.
“How ab-b-bout you, Josh? Want to j-j-join us after school for homework?” Listening to that stutter is like being slowly tortured. I bet Lucifer gave it to him on purpose just to keep me on task.
“Sure. Gotta get it done somehow,” I say, and I can’t help but look at her. Grace smiles. She seems as surprised as I am that he asked me to come on their little date. She also seems pleased. I stretch my leg across the floor, under the lunch table, until my foot bumps into hers. Cam’s to my left and Grace is across from us, but I can still reach her.
“I’ve got to get to class. English Lit with Mr. Baner.” She stands, but announces her next class like she’s hoping we’ll say we’re in it, too.
“You mean Mr. Banal?” I ask. She smiles, clearly impressed that I have a brain and a bod. Yeah, in my dad’s few sober moments he used to tell me I could really be something if I’d only apply myself more. Well, joke’s on him, I guess, because I sure feel like something now.
“I have chemistry with Mr. H-H-Holmes.” No one cares, Cam.
“Sorry, Grace. I’ve got chem, too.” She seems uncertain, like she’s afraid to leave us alone, but she smiles again and says goodbye.
“So, Cam,” I say, leaning back in the chair with one leg propped on the table. “Tell me more about yourself.” It’s what I’m supposed to say. The Boss says it’s a guaranteed in. People love to talk about themselves.
“M-m-me?” he asks with those suspicious eyes again. I drop my feet to the floor and lean forward to show how interested I am—not. “W-w-well, I live with my mom. We just moved here from Chicago.” He takes a bite of his hamburger like that’s the end of the story.
“Wow. That’s a big move. How do you like Michigan so far?”
“It’s OK. I thought it would b-b-be pretty much the same. But p-p-people here seem…n-n-nicer.” He smiles after Grace, who’s long gone by now.
“She is pretty hot, isn’t she?” I say, leaning in. I can feel the lust emanate from him like a beacon. It’s one of those new things I have to get used to. “Strong desires can lead to misdeeds,” or so Lucifer says.
“I g-g-guess you’ll probably ask h-h-her out, huh?” he looks crestfallen. Can’t blame him. He’s no competition for someone like me. But as much as it pains me, I’m not here to get it on with the leggy blonde. Man, why can’t I corrupt her soul?
“Naw. Not if you’re interested. Did you see the way she looked at you?” He peers up from beneath his stringy bangs, surprise written all over his face.
“M-m-me?” he asks again.
“Dude, you had to have seen it.” He looks uncertain. “I bet you’ve missed some serious signs from behind that hair of yours.”
He reaches up and hesitantly brushes his hair back from his face. Not bad. It’s something to work with, at least. I smile to encourage him.
“You really think so?” he asks. Man, he’d be easy to crush.
“Yeah. Didn’t you have a girlfriend in Chicago?” I ask.
“N-n-no.” He mashes a fist into his thigh where he thinks I can’t see it. Clearly he’s been burned before by the opposite sex.
I shake my head like I can’t believe it. “Stick with me, and you’ll see the world in a whole new light,” I say, taking a bite out of my apple.
Chapter 8
Grace
I run my fingers longingly over the cell. My heart aches to call my mother. To tell her not to worry, that it’s really OK. But I’ve been warned. Miss Alvarez said the phone is for “business calls only,” and that any attempt to contact my family or friends will result in the loss of my “opportunity for eternal glory.” I put it in my pocket. I won’t ruin my reunion with a stupid phone call.
“Waiting for a text from someone special?”
I shake my head no.
Two girls have latched onto me since sixth period Lit. They seem nice enough. Shelby asked about the text. She’s tall with frizzy red hair and freckles. Fatmeh is exotic looking, with dark skin and thick black hair. As Ms. A promised, they assumed I’ve been here at North for a while, just in different classes.
They’re both big into theater and think I should try out for Romeo and Juliet. I politely decline, and when they continue to hang around, I explain that I have to meet someone after school. They follow along like it’s an invitation. Miss Alvarez did warn me that I’d have a certain enhanced magnetism. I wish I liked being the center of attention.
“Grace!” It’s Josh, waving to me from the doorway. Camden is half-hiding behind his back, though I note with some shock that he’s got his hair tucked back behind his ear. It’s a good look for him.
Shelby and Fatmeh speed up and get to the boys before me. They are a couple of giggling hyenas and are all over Josh. Fatmeh elbows me in the waist, whispering, “Way to go, girl.”
“Camden, Josh, this is Shelby and Fatmeh.” I do the necessary introductions.
