Soul Mates

by Donald Hanley

  19

  Miracles, like souls, are a staple of most religions. They’re held up as proof of the Supreme Being’s omnipotent power, where He blithely ignores the Laws of Nature in order to tangibly demonstrate that there is indeed something greater Out There.

  Of course, a lot of the things that people label as miracles aren’t. Just because something’s unlikely to happen doesn’t mean it’s a sign from God when it does. That speeding car that just missed you simply missed you. The odds of winning the jackpot in the lottery are low but they’re not zero. The fact that the doctors can’t explain why you’re suddenly cured of that fatal disease just means we still have a lot to learn about the human body.

  The sole survivor of a plane crash. A baby finally conceived after years of trying. Finding a long-lost relative. There are seven billion people out there doing all sorts of things every single day. Something unusual is bound to happen. That doesn’t make it a miracle.

  To me, a real miracle has to defy any rational explanation. It also should be obvious, so that there’s no question about exactly what happened, and it should be witnessed by more than one person, so that hallucinations can be ruled out. Mind you, people are easily fooled, so even that probably won’t be enough to convince me but at least it’s a start.

  Real miracles are making the sun stand still, walking on water, rising from the dead after three days, that sort of thing. Of course, now that I’ve seen what witches and demons can do, maybe there really is no such thing as miracles. Maybe it’s just magic.

  I started awake just in time to hear the final note of our doorbell chime. I sat up quickly enough to make myself dizzy and gaped at the clock on the DVR. It was 6:05. Dad had forgotten to get me up.

  I ran for the door and flung it open just as Mom walked by. She nearly jumped out of her shoes.

  “Peter!” she exclaimed, pressing her hand against her chest. “What in the world are you doing?”

  “Was that the doorbell?” I asked frantically. “Is everyone here already?”

  “Everyone?” Mom frowned. “What are you talking about? It’s just Melissa.”

  If she didn’t know about Agent Prescott and Mrs. Kendricks then they hadn’t arrived yet. She obviously thought it was Melissa at the door but that didn’t mean it was. I thought about peeking through the peephole to see who was standing outside but Mom would wonder what was wrong with me. I dithered long enough that Mom reached the door and opened it before I could stop her.

  “Melissa!” she said with a cheerful smile. “Welcome! Come on in.” She stepped aside to let Melissa inside.

  “Thanks for having me over, Mrs. Collins,” Melissa told her sincerely. “Is Peter – ? Oh, there you are!” She crossed over to me and pecked me quickly on the cheek. “This is so exciting!”

  “Uh, what is?” I tried to look outside to see if anyone else was out there but all I saw was Melissa’s Thunderbird by the curb before Mom shut the door.

  “Come on into the kitchen,” she told Melissa. “We’ll be eating in about half an hour, if that’s all right.”

  “That’s perfect,” Melissa assured her.

  “You look very nice today. Doesn’t she, Peter?” Mom added pointedly.

  “Um, yes, very nice.” I recognized the blouse from her selfies this morning but the rest of her was covered up with a black skirt and matching blazer. Despite the heat, she was wearing black tights with her low heels, also black. Even her eye shadow was smoky. The only real color on her was her lips and nails, both dark red.

  Both Mom and Melissa rolled their eyes and walked away from me, chattering between themselves as I followed reluctantly, wondering if Agent Prescott was about to come barging through the door at any moment. He’s been waiting for hours to see if Lilith is Lily, I thought worriedly. Why isn’t he here already?

  “I had to run home after work to grab my case,” Melissa explained to Mom, laying a leather satchel on the counter as she doffed her blazer and hung it on the back of one of the chairs. “That’s why I’m a bit late.”

  “You didn’t need to rush, we’re not on any schedule tonight,” Mom told her. “You’re working now?”

  “Yes, at Franklin Investments downtown. I’m the office manager,” she smiled.

  “Really?” Mom sounded surprised. “Aren’t you a bit, ah, young for a position like that?”

  Melissa laughed. “I’m just kidding, sort of. Mr. Franklin’s regular assistant is out on maternity leave and he just needed someone to answer the phone and type up reports and stuff. It’s kind of interesting, actually, but it’s a lot of running around,” she grimaced. “I should have worn better shoes.”

  “Well, sit down and take it easy,” Mom insisted. “Would you like something to drink?”

  “Oh, that would be wonderful. Sweet tea?”

  “Coming right up.”

  “So what did you do all day, Peter?” Melissa asked. “Peter?” I started when she snapped her fingers. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” Everything. “I just woke up from a nap.”

  “That explains the hair, then.” I ran my hand across my scalp but I didn’t feel anything different. Melissa patted the chair beside her. “Sit down and tell me about your day.”

  “Uh, why?” There was very little I could tell her, actually, not with Mom just a few feet away.

  “Because that’s what couples do,” she chided me. “Sit.”

  I sat. “We’re a couple?” I asked doubtfully.

  “Well, not officially,” she admitted. “Thank you, Mrs. Collins,” she added gratefully as Mom set a bedewed glass of tea on the table.

  “You’re welcome, dear,” Mom smiled. “I’m going to check on Jack and make sure dinner hasn’t turned into charcoal. I’ll be right back.”

  Melissa tapped her fingers on the table as she watched Mom step outside. As soon as the patio door closed, she lunged at me and grabbed my head in a vise grip, mashing her lips against mine for what seemed like an eternity. Then she sat back and picked up her tea.

  “I’ve been waiting all day to do that,” she said matter-of-factly, taking a sip. “This is good tea,” she announced.

  My lips still tingled as I blinked at her, trying to gather my scattered thoughts back together. “Melissa,” I said, glancing around to make sure we were still alone, “there’s a problem.”

  “A problem?” She looked aghast. “You’re not moving in with me?”

  “No, I –”

  “What?” She rose to her feet in dismay. “How can you say that? You can’t change your mind now! I made plans!”

  “That’s not what I meant!” I pulled her back down. “I mean,” I told her in a whisper, “the demon hunter is on his way over here.”

  “Oh.” She blinked her way through a quick succession of thoughts. “So you are moving in?”

  “Oh my God! Didn’t you hear me? The demon hunter is coming!”

  “Peter, this is our future we’re talking about. It’s important!”

  “Dara’s important, too!”

  “I thought the hunter was after Lilith.”

  “He’s after whoever has Olivia’s soul and that’s Dara right now!”

  “Oh, right. So I brought over the apartment brochures for you to see and I made a spreadsheet so we can keep track of everything we need to bring.” She retrieved her satchel and set it on the table, extracting a thin laptop. “Anything we don’t have on hand we can buy this weekend.”

  “Melissa, Dara’s in danger! Don’t you care?”

  She sat back in her chair with a sigh. “Of course I care. Dara’s my friend.”

  “You don’t seem terribly worried about her!”

  “Well, she is a demon,” she pointed out.

  “So?”

  “So this sort of thing is going to happen, isn’t it? Even if we stop this guy, someone else is just going to come along later.”

  “Not necessarily.”

  Melissa shook her head dolefully. “Peter, I might be a brand-new witc
h but even I know that witches hunt demons. It’s what we do. Now that Dara’s not human anymore, she’s going to be a target.” She flipped up the cover of her laptop and pressed the power button. “She needs to leave, for her own safety and everyone else’s.”

  “But –” My voice trailed off and I slumped in my chair. I hadn’t thought that far ahead but Melissa was right. Now that Daraxandriel was freed from her Dread Lord’s curse, every witch within a hundred miles was going to be gunning for her, including Mrs. Kendrick’s own coven. “What are we going to do?” I asked forlornly.

  “You’ll think of something,” she said confidently. She typed in her password and opened up a neatly-formatted spreadsheet organized and color-coded by category. There were two columns waiting to be filled in, titled Melissa and Peter. “So I figure we need four complete place settings, just in case we have guests over. Or would six be better?”

  “Oh my God.” I planted my elbows on the table and buried my face in my hands. It was hopeless. Even if we somehow got rid of Agent Prescott, Daraxandriel was doomed.

  “Are you okay?”

  “No, I’m not okay! The woman I love is about to be sent to Hell, or worse!”

  “Peter, we talked about this.” Melissa’s voice suddenly had a dangerous edge to it. “Dara’s not a real woman. I’m your girlfriend, not her.” Something in her dark eyes sent a graveyard shiver down my spine.

  I was saved by the doorbell. I jumped up and ran for the door, hoping that it was Mrs. Kendricks. If nothing else, she might be able to keep Melissa corralled while I tried to keep Daraxandriel alive.

  I yanked open the door and found Agent Prescott standing on our welcome mat. He’d shaved and changed clothes since this morning, sporting a open-necked polo shirt and tan slacks. His hair was damp, as if he’d just taken a shower, although that didn’t disguise the triple scar across his temple.

  “I see I’m in the right place,” he said with a wry smile, obviously recognizing me from the police station. He stuck out his hand. “Ryan Prescott. Your father invited me to drop by.”

  I shook his hand automatically. He had a very firm grip and he held on for quite a bit longer than normal. When he finally released me, he glanced at his palm and nodded to himself. I shot a glance at my own hand but I didn’t see anything unusual.

  “Uh, yes, he mentioned you might come by,” I said, trying and failing to disguise my nervousness. “He’s in the backyard.” I shot a glance at the street outside, desperately wishing that Mrs. Kendricks would drive up just then, but all I saw was a black cat lurking by the gate. It had a collar and tag so it probably belonged to one of the neighbors.

  Prescott cleared his throat. “So can I come in?” he prompted.

  “Oh, right! Sorry.” I glanced over my shoulder to make sure Daraxandriel and Lilith weren’t in sight and then stepped back out of the way. He looked around the foyer and front room casually but I knew he was searching for signs that a demon was staying here. “This way.”

  I led him back to the kitchen, wincing in anticipation as we passed the hallway, but there was no one there. Melissa stood as we approached and looked at me expectantly. It took my rattled brain cells a moment to realize what she wanted.

  “Oh! Um, Melissa, this is, uh, Ryan Prescott, a, uh, an acquaintance of Dad’s. Mr. Prescott, this is Melissa Andrews. She, uh, she’s –”

  “I’m Peter’s girlfriend,” she announced firmly. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Prescott.” They shook hands and Prescott glanced at his palm again. For a fleeting instant, he seemed surprised, but I couldn’t tell why.

  The patio door opened and Mom walked in. “Peter, was there someone at the door?” she asked and then she caught sight of our guest. “Oh, hello.”

  “Mom, this is Ryan Prescott,” I sighed. “He’s here to see Dad.”

  “Sorry to drop in unannounced, Mrs. Collins,” Prescott said, shaking Mom’s hand. “I hope I’m not intruding.” I caught him checking his palm again but this time he didn’t react to whatever it was he saw there.

  “No, not at all, and please call me June,” Mom smiled. “Have you had dinner, Mr. Prescott? You’re quite welcome to join us. It’s barbecue,” she added enticingly.

  “Call me Ryan. I’d be delighted, although I’m not sure how long I can stay.”

  “That’s all right, we’re glad you’re here. Come on out back, Jack’s watching the grill.”

  I waited until the patio door closed behind them before collapsing back into my chair. “Oh my God,” I breathed.

  “What’s wrong, Peter?” Melissa asked with a frown.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked incredulously and then I remembered that she didn’t know who Prescott really was. “That’s the demon hunter!”

  “Really?” she gasped. “He doesn’t look like one. Well, except for that scar. How did he get that?”

  “I don’t know and I don’t care. We have to keep him away from Dara and Lilith.”

  “Keep who away?”

  I spun around. Lilith stood there at the end of the hall, looking at us with that supercilious smile of hers.

  “What are you doing out here?” I demanded, aghast. “You’re supposed to be hiding in my bedroom!”

  “I must have missed that memo,” she retorted dryly, coming closer. “What exactly are we hiding from?”

  “The demon hunter is here!” I hissed at her.

  “Is he?” She made a show of looking around the kitchen. “He’s invisible?”

  “No, he’s in the back yard!”

  “Wonderful.” she smiled. “Well, let’s go have a look at him, shall we?”

  Lilith walked straight to the patio door and opened it before I could lift a hand to stop her or squeak out a warning. I scrambled after her but Mom called out Lilith’s name just as I reached the threshold.

  “Come say hello to Jack’s friend Ryan,” she insisted. “Ryan, this is Lilith. She’s here visiting her sister.”

  “Delighted,” Lilith smiled. She held out her hand to Prescott like she expected him to kneel and kiss her knuckles. He took it in a normal grip and gazed into her eyes as he shook it, an expression of grim satisfaction on his face. When he released her and looked at his palm, though, his smile faded and he just blinked, as if he couldn’t believe what he saw there.

  “Is something wrong?” Lilith asked, all false concern.

  “No, everything’s fine.” Prescott glanced at Dad standing by the grill and shook his head. Dad dipped his head in understanding. Lilith was officially off the suspect list. “So Lilith’s your daughter?” he asked Mom doubtfully.

  “Our daughter?” Mom echoed in surprise. “Why would you think that?” She and Lilith didn’t resemble each other in any way, shape, or form.

  “You said she was visiting her sister, so I assumed –”

  “Oh, no,” Mom laughed. “Dara’s an exchange student. She’s been staying with us for a couple of months now. She’s from London,” she added helpfully.

  “Ah.” Prescott eyed Lilith speculatively. “So you’re British? You don’t have an accent,” he observed.

  “I’m from all over,” she told him smoothly. “My work keeps me on the road.”

  “So does mine. I just came in from New Orleans. Have you been there before?”

  “Once or twice,” she smiled.

  “Recently?” I didn’t like the way Prescott’s eyes narrowed.

  “A few days ago. I was just passing through.”

  “It sounds like you two have a lot in common,” Mom said cheerfully. She had no idea how right she really was. “Peter, why don’t you ask everyone else to come on out? We’ll get dinner started.”

  I hesitated, wondering how I could stop the cat-and-mouse game Prescott and Lilith were playing before a certain ex-succubus pointed the finger at Daraxandriel. I had to keep her out of sight until Mrs. Kendricks got here. What’s taking her so long?

  Mom shooed me into the kitchen and followed me in, heading straight for the refrigerator. “Melissa, dear
, would you mind bringing these out to Jack?” She pulled out a plastic bin with six corn cobs still in their husks. “I’ll get the kabobs started.”

  “I’ll be glad to,” Melissa said with a smile, taking the bin. “I can help with the other things, too.”

  “Thank you,” Mom told her gratefully. “Susie doesn’t enjoy cooking very much.”

  “I love cooking. You’ll have to tell me what sort of things Peter likes to eat.” She eyed me in eager anticipation.

  “Oh, he’s a teenaged boy, he’ll eat anything. Except meatloaf,” she added thoughtfully. “I don’t understand that.”

  I escaped before Mom gave away all my secrets. I knocked on Susie’s door and slipped inside, shutting the door behind me. She was sitting cross-legged on her bed looking at something on her cellphone.

  “Go away,” she replied absently, not bothering to look up.

  “The demon hunter’s here,” I told her tersely.

  That got her attention. “Really?” she frowned. “I thought it would be noisier.”

  “He hasn’t done anything yet. He’s talking to Lilith but he doesn’t seem to think she’s a demon.”

  “That’s because she’s not,” Susie reminded me.

  “I know that. The problem is Dara. He’s going to want to talk to her and there’s no way he’s not going to notice her horns and tail.”

  “So hide them.”

  “How? Put a bag over her head?” I tended to get sarcastic when I was stressed.

  Susie rolled her eyes. “She can change her appearance, remember?”

  “Right. I knew that.” She’d done it at Mrs. Kendricks’ house but it hadn’t taken Lilith very long to convince her to undo it. “But she’ll still be a demon,” I argued, “and I think he’s using some sort of detector spell. He looks at his palm every time he shakes hands with someone.”

  “His palm?” Susie looked at hers curiously. “I wonder if he’ll teach me how to do that.”

  “Oh my God, this isn’t the time to be exchanging witchcraft tips! How do we keep him from realizing Dara’s a demon?”

  “Don’t let him shake her hand,” she shrugged.