Soul Slam

by Allie Burton

  “I’m not going to work with the Society.”

  “What if you don’t have a choice?”

  No way would I help that bunch of crazies rule the world. No way would I help damage the environment. “I’ll refuse.”

  “What if we tricked them into thinking you’re going to go along with them?”

  I tugged on the amulet. The heat seared my fingers. His words shot holes in my chest. I sucked in a wheezy breath trying to find coherent words. “You mean use me as bait?”

  All the action adventure movies where the girl is used as bait flashed. None of them ended well for the heroine. This probably wouldn’t end well for me.

  I swallowed the ball of bile in my throat. Panic, fear, and terror wiggled inside me as if I was already hooked—a worm dangling on the end of a fishermen’s line.

  Until two nights ago I had always played back up to Fitch’s thievery plans. I’d done the research and casing, studied the security systems, figured a plan to get out. I’d never been in the spotlight, never had to act out a part.

  And while I’d been stressing how to tell Xander about the new danger to him, he’d been plotting to put me in more danger. As bait.

  Xander’s gaze pleaded for understanding and gleamed with a hidden sorrow. “I wouldn’t have suggested the idea if I could think of any other way. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

  Anything that hadn’t already happened.

  “I won’t let them get near you.” His solemn words soothed my pain, calmed my anger.

  Xander had become my personal protector. “I’ll meet with them. Show them the oils. Tell them I’m representing you.”

  “That’s risky for you.” I didn’t want to put him in jeopardy either.

  By being with me Xander risked his life.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  It was night by the time we reached the base of the Golden Gate Bridge. The bridge had a few tourists. A couple of cars passed in the lanes. A heavy, suffocating fog rolled in from the Pacific Ocean over the bridge. I shivered, missing the warmth of the sun. My body felt slow and sluggish trekking across the bridge’s empty sidewalk.

  “Do you think the sun burns me out more during the day or night?”

  “I wish I knew more.” Disgust filled Xander’s voice. “I wish I would’ve asked more questions.”

  “You didn’t know the Society deceived you.” I didn’t want him feeling bad that we didn’t know more. None of this was his fault.

  “Jeb’s library was right there. I could’ve snuck in or asked to see proof that what they said was true.” A shadow of regret crossed his face. He hung his head.

  “You didn’t know any better.”

  Kind of like how things were in Fitch’s family. I never thought to question how the money from our commissions was spent. As a team, we must’ve made bucks and yet we lived in a condemned building, barely had enough to eat, and wore ratty, hand-me-down clothes.

  How had he spent our cash? Insecurity about my life with Fitch, about his ring of thieves, worked its way through me. I was glad I’d put off meeting him until I had all the oils and I could secure Xander’s safety.

  Well, I’d have at least six of the seven oils. Fitch never would’ve understood the importance of finding them. On the phone he didn’t seem to care about me or my well-being. And he hated Xander.

  “Hindsight is twenty-twenty.” Xander quoted some old saying. “Before meeting you, I was definitely blind.”

  His compliment zinged like a guitar string. That was so sweet. He was saying I opened his eyes and let him see things for real.

  “Both of our eyes are open now.” I stopped walking and stared at him. Stared at his serious green pupils reflecting the blue of the ocean behind us. Stared at his sculpted nose and chin. Stared at his lips.

  His mouth lifted in a slight smile. “They certainly are.”

  Our gazes connected like long lost souls. We understood each other. Knew each other so well even though we’d only met a couple of days earlier. An electrical charge of emotion passed between us. Joined us like an invisible thread tying two people together. Time didn’t pass. The sun didn’t move. Our hearts beat in tune.

  I wanted to reach out and touch him. I raised my hand, my palm toward him. He raised his hand and matched it to mine. Not touching, our palms were within a half an inch of each other. Our own private ritual.

  Heat vibrated between our hands, warming me more than the sun. Even though we weren’t touching I felt him. Felt his emotions. Felt his caring.

  My heart swelled so large there wasn’t any room for air in my chest. I couldn’t breathe. I truly loved Xander. I’d been so wrapped up in my new powers and our quest, I hadn’t thought deeply about my feelings of love. Hadn’t realized I’d been falling from the moment I saw him.

  Did Xander love me? I knew he cared or he wouldn’t still be around. Unless of course, he thought he could somehow get his powers back. I snorted. No way. We’d both read the information on Jeb’s computer. Well, I’d read most of it anyhow.

  I opened my mouth to confess my feelings, knowing this was right—

  A lone tourist bumped into Xander ending the moment, taking us both out of the daze we’d been entrapped by. His mouth opened and his cheeks stained red.

  We both dropped our hands and looked away.

  A damp heat flooded my body. Not the kind of heat I’d felt when we’d stared but an embarrassing kind of warmth. Maybe this wasn’t the right time to tell him. Maybe he didn’t feel the same. And if I confessed my love, how would I say goodbye when I had to go back to Fitch?

  “We should look for where the oil vessel might be hidden.” He stepped over to the red railing and looked down at the water rushing far below us.

  He was right. We needed to concentrate on finding the last oil. Only then, could we even think about a future. A separate future.

  “Where should we look?” I glanced across the large expanse of the bridge. Red railings, massive cables that were inspected regularly, fenced off towers. All the lines were clean. No place to hide even the tiniest vessel. Not with the recent scrutiny by authorities of anything suspicious.

  “Could be anywhere.”

  I noted the tiny chips in the red paint on the far side of the bridge. Saw birds building nests with blue speckled eggs nestled inside. “There aren’t a lot of places to hide an object without causing widespread panic.”

  “The vessel is small.” He started walking across the bridge again. “The clue from the Nilometer vessel said what?”

  I walked beside him. “Gateway to gold. Lights behold.”

  “Hmm.” Xander examined the light post we passed. “Lights.”

  “I thought that meant the light of the sun.” I mean, that is what this entire search was about.

  “What if it hinted at the location in a light? There always seems to be a double meaning in the clues.” His gaze swiveled around the entire bridge. “The railings are metal with rivets holding them together. No place to hide anything. The cables are solid and continuously painted.” He stomped on the ground.

  “The sidewalk is solid.”

  We walked by one of the towers. “The towers are surrounded by fencing so unless the Society knows someone who works for the bridge authority, they couldn’t get in there.”

  “Every other vessel has been accessible to an average person.” A stiff wind blew my hair into my face and I pushed it out of the way.

  “The lights.” Xander blurted with confidence.

  If he was confident, so was I. “Which one?”

  “Let’s count.” He turned and counted the light poles we’d already passed and then continued to count walking the entire expanse of the bridge in silence. “Twenty-four regular light poles and twelve decorative ones.”

  My shoulders slumped and I leaned against the railing. “That’s a lot of poles to climb and search.”

  “Yeah.” The assurance in his voice plummeted and his gaze dimmed. Even after we failed to find the v
essel at Coit Tower Xander had seemed hopeful. Now, he sounded lost.

  We couldn’t give up. I focused my gaze on the nearest light. “Well, it’s not in that one across the roadway. Or the one further down.”

  He threw his arms up like he’d just scored a homerun. “I’ve been thinking that super sight must be one of your powers. On the cliffs you saw the handgun and binoculars.”

  “You think?” My breathing came in uneven pants. Heat and cold collided. I was surprised I could be cold with the heat of the sun inside me. I lasered my gaze at the pole again. The decorative filigree was shaped into delicate curlicues, like the 1920’s Tiffany lamp Fitch had once stolen. Doubt buzzed. “You can’t see by the light bulb?”

  “I can see where the light is but I can’t see the details.” He spoke slowly, like he was trying to explain a difficult concept.

  “You can’t see the burnt out filament inside the bulb?” I could see a filament from fifty yards away. And I knew it was burnt out.

  Like I would be soon if I didn’t stop using my power.

  Come to think of it, I had been seeing things more clearly. Like the Egyptian writing on the spine of the book in the painting had popped as if under a magnifying glass. Or the hieroglyphics on the Nilometer at the bottom of the stairs. Or the pay phone I’d spotted in the dark several blocks away when I’d snuck away to call Fitch.

  “Wow.” Another totally inadequate reaction.

  Another super power to learn how to use, or how not to use so I didn’t burn out.

  “Look at the lights,” Xander commanded.

  “But,” I held my breath. Hope and fear smashed inside. How much power had I burnt?

  “It’s the best way to figure out if the oil vessel is in one of the light standards.” His overly-enthusiastic tone sounded like an off-beat chord.

  Both sides conflicted inside like the sun and the clouds in the sky. Did I conserve my power in the hope of lasting longer? Or, did I use my power to find the last oil so we could figure out how to end the curse? “Do you think I’ll use too much power? Burn out quicker?”

  “Once we have the oils, we can figure out how to stop the burn out.” Again, his voice held confidence. Did he know more than he was saying?

  Continuing to walk, I scanned each pole paying careful consideration to the angle of my position. We walked one way and then the next, like many tourists did in the daytime. But while they were admiring the scenery of the cliffs on the Marin side, the tall buildings in San Francisco, and the islands of Angel and Alcatraz, I gazed at each pole from all sides.

  All the way across the bridge, almost to Marin, I spotted something. An odd shape that stuck out. A flash of gold that didn’t belong.

  “I think I found it.” I stopped about ten feet away to get a good angle. “There.” I pointed.

  “Are you sure?” He leaned against the railing and peered.

  I climbed onto the railing to get a higher view. The jar shaped vessel glinted in the light. The etched hieroglyphics showed two figures mixing something in a container. Yes, I could see that well.

  No mistake. The final vessel was in my view.

  “That’s it. How are we going to get it down?” I jumped off the railing and scoped around.

  Few cars traversed the bridge this late at night. The fog covered the famed arches above, and most of the view. I felt isolated like a figure in a snow globe but instead of being encased by water and flakes, I was surrounded by fog.

  “I’ll shimmy to the top of the pole.” Xander strolled toward the correct pole. “You keep a look out for cops. I don’t want them to think I’m a jumper.”

  He scuffed the bottom of his shoes and wiped the palms of his hands on his pants. He ran his hands around the pole feeling the slickness of the paint. The pole wasn’t tall like some of the others on the bridge because it was a decorative light.

  I tried to settle the roaring of my chest and the upheaval in my stomach. Biting my lip, I watched a lone car drive by. The Golden Gate Bridge would never be completely empty, but this was close.

  Xander grabbed hold of the pole with both hands and pulled himself up. He kicked his feet onto the rail, clinging to the light pole. Water rushed hundreds of yards below. Swells reflected off the bridge lighting.

  He wrapped his legs around and inched his way higher. Only a few more feet. While he climbed, I stared at the light like it was a pile of gold. He reached, stretching his arm toward the decorative holder that held the oil. It was like he reached for Horus, god of the sky and protector of Pharaoh.

  Too bad I didn’t go to school. I’d pass Egyptian history no problem.

  “Got it.” His words rushed on a breath of relief.

  My soul celebrated. The last available oil.

  Xander slid to the ground. His smile was like the sun bursting—big, bright, and powerful. So powerful I almost melted from its brilliance. I wanted to hug him, but couldn’t.

  He handed me the oil and I stuck the small jar into the backpack. Together, we turned toward the city.

  A man of medium build shuffled in our direction about fifty yards away. His hunched shoulders and frail frame shouted menace because he walked like he was trying not to be noticed. It was a posture I’d learned from Fitch.

  The man’s walk had an uneven gate as if one leg was longer than the other. Even though he tried to hide it, only one person walked like that. Fitch.

  At first my chest lightened. Fitch was here. I’d relied on him for so long. But then my heart weighted and hardened. How had he found me?

  I glanced at Xander. His stern mask told me that he recognized the danger.

  Fitch was the man who’d threatened to tear Xander apart, the guy I loved. Jitters jingled along my spine. My skin itched like the clothes I wore were uncomfortable, which was possible because there were the same disgustingly dirty clothes I’d worn for three days.

  I don’t know if it was the clothes or my ability to zap whoever I touched or my own internal voice, but something stopped me from moving forward. I analyzed the man I once thought of as a father-figure. Had he changed or had I?

  His grin seemed sinister as if he were the devil himself. The sharp, pointy nose looked down on me. Were those hard lines etched around Fitch’s eyes always there? What about the greedy glint in his gaze? It was the same look he got after a big score on the job.

  Like I was the job.

  “What’re you doing here, Fitch?” My voice sounded strong even though I shook like an earthquake.

  “We just talked last night.” Fitch kept his hands in his pockets, cool and calm.

  “What.” Xander’s voice deepened, as deep as a black hole I might never find my way out of. His lips hardened into a thin, harsh line.

  The air sucked from my lungs like a vacuum realizing the mistake I’d made. “I can explain.”

  But could I? I’d called Fitch against Xander’s advice. I’d kept it secret from him. Making the phone call should have bought us time or so I thought.

  “You don’t need to explain anything to him.” Fitch took another step closer, but not too close. “I assume you retrieved the final oil as we discussed.”

  Xander huffed beside me. His white gym shoes scuffed at the ground like a bull seeing red. I sensed his fury. All directed at me.

  I swallowed down my guilt. It landed in my stomach like a rock. “I didn’t—”

  “And you were here on the Golden Gate Bridge just like you said.” Fitch’s over-confident smirk set warning alarms off.

  “I never—”

  “You told him where we’d be?” Xander’s last word dropped like a bomb of disbelief.

  If this was a cartoon, and wouldn’t that be nice, I swear you’d see steam puffing out of Xander’s head. His face would be that of an avenging angel, an expression of righteousness. His posture would be that of a superhero defending honesty and good.

  But this wasn’t a cartoon. Or a movie with happy ending.

  I held up my hand trying to control the shaking. “
Let me explain.”

  “Yes, Olivia. Why don’t you explain to Xander how you called me and told me to pick you up here.” Fitch’s oh-too-reasonable tone had me squirming with panic.

  “Last night while you were sleeping, I called Fitch—”

  “Without telling me.”

  “I knew how much you were against it.” If Fitch had found us on Lombard Street, he could find us anywhere.

  “Yet you did it anyhow behind my back.” Xander’s voice bellowed. His green eyes glared, sharp as broken glass.

  “Olivia does what I say.” Fitch’s lip curled into a nasty snarl.

  I was losing Xander. I could tell by his stance, by his words, by his gaze.

  Fitch’s bulging forehead and small, beady eyes told me everything I needed to know. His crooked nose and his harsh mouth spewed contempt whenever he spoke and if I contradicted him I’d face more trouble. His pointy chin and his deep, ugly lines on his skin showed his hard living. He wanted to harm Xander and I couldn’t let him.

  Losing Xander would be a good thing. For him.

  I searched Xander’s beloved face. He still had a life to live. If he wasn’t with me, didn’t insist on being my body guard, he’d never go up against Fitch. He’d be better off.

  Losing Xander would kill me, but I was probably going to die anyhow. No point in taking him along for the boat ride down the River Styxx. This was an opportunity handed to me by Fitch. I needed to push Xander away. Hard. I had to be harsh, mean, cruel.

  And I needed to convince Fitch I felt nothing for Xander. Or pushing Xander away still wouldn’t keep him safe.

  Taking a sharp breath, I lied. “Yes. I do whatever Fitch says. And yes, I betrayed you Xander.”

  “I don’t believe you.” Xander’s voice whooshed with an ethereal quality.

  “Believe her.” Fitch angled his head in a direct threat to Xander.

  Xander crossed his arms in a big no trespassing sign.

  Not that I could trespass. I couldn’t even touch him. But even though we couldn’t physically touch, we’d touched intellectually and emotionally. And I had to cut the cord.