“Mr. Patterson? Where does this one go?” Kara held up an old book. She wiped the layer of grime from its cover and read the inscription. “Uh...Nineteen Eighty Four, by George Orwell. Where do you want me to put it?”
“In the classic novel section, dear.” Mr. Patterson gently polished a fist-sized crystal ball. He raised it above his head and twisted it in his hand slowly, marveling at its brilliance. Placing it back gently beneath the counter, he reached in and pulled out another identical crystal from his collection. He started polishing it with a piece of white cloth.
The crystals were the only things in the entire bookstore that Kara wasn’t allowed to touch, which only made her want to touch them more. As she watched him gloat over the crystals, she wondered what his attachment was to these brilliant spheres. Why were they so important to him? Were they priceless? They looked like regular crystals you could buy at the local new-age shops. So why couldn’t she touch them?
She watched the old man spit and then buff the crystal in his hand as though he was trying to wipe out a stain on an old shoe. Maybe Mr. Patterson was a clairvoyant when he was away from the bookstore. That would explain the odd times when he would shuffle around the store, mumbling about top news reports before they were released to the public. He always seemed to know more than he let on, especially when it came to her future. He had known about her acceptance to Dawson College’s Art program even before she had opened the letter.
“Do you want me to help you polish those when I’m done with this stack of books?” Kara gestured to the remaining pile of books on her metal trolley. “I don’t mind, really.”
Mr. Patterson didn’t even look up. “No thank you, dear. You know I don’t allow anyone near my crystals.”
“I know, but I thought I could help . . .”
“It’s quite all right, dear. Only the hands of a true seer can manipulate the essence of the crystals.” Mr. Patterson examined his crystal more closely. “There is a unique bond between a crystal and its handler—one cannot see into it without the special eye—so to speak.”
Kara sighed and shook her head. She’d gotten used to Mr. Patterson speaking in riddles. Most of the time she had no idea what he was talking about, so she would nod her head and pretend that she did just to keep him happy. Maybe one day he would trust her enough to handle at least one of his precious crystals. She wondered how they would feel against her palm.
Having placed the rest of the old books in the classic novel section, Kara hauled the metal trolley to the back of the store.
“Clara,” called Mr. Patterson from behind the counter, still eyeing his precious crystals. “Would you mind putting the closed sign on the front door? It’s almost five o’clock.”
“Sure, Mr. Patterson.” Kara parked the trolley and crossed the store. A wooden sign with the word open painted in white hung from the top of the front door by a single string. She flipped it over so that the word closed was now visible against the door’s glass window.
Clink.
“Oh dear!” screeched Mr. Patterson.
Kara turned around. Mr. Patterson stood with his arms in the air and a panicked look on his face as a crystal ball bounced off the counter and rolled across the floor towards Kara. It sparkled as it rolled slowly towards her. She reached down . . .
“No!”
Kara picked up the crystal ball. She peered closer and noticed a light inside, as though a light switch had turned on. Suddenly, a series of images flashed in her mind’s eye. She saw herself fighting a man with black eyes and white skin. Next she stood in an elevator with a large and angry chimpanzee pointing a finger at her. Then she stood in a large round chamber with a glass dome, in front of her a group of men and women dressed in robes sitting around a half-moon desk. The image changed—now she was covered in wisps of golden current. And then she stood before a massive creature with rotting flesh and gangly sinuous arms. It opened its maw . . .
“I’ll take that, thank you.” Mr. Patterson took the crystal from Kara’s hand and walked away hurriedly.
Kara stood frozen as the images in her head blurred and then disappeared all together. Frowning, she tried to make sense of what she has seen, but the images wouldn’t come—she couldn’t remember. It was like when she’d wake up from a dream, and seconds later couldn’t remember what the dream had been about. With every passing second, the images vanished from her mind entirely, until there was nothing left to remember.
“What just happened?” she asked, looking around the bookstore. “My head feels funny.”
“Nothing dear. You were just locking up, that is all.” Mr. Patterson shuffled back towards the counter and placed his crystal ball into the glass compartment. He locked it with the key that hung from around his neck and started to wipe down the counter with an old multicolored rag.
“I was?” Kara stood in the middle of the room with her hands held out in front of her, feeling a little light headed. She sighed and dropped her hands. “Great, I’m losing my mind . . .”
“Of course not,” said Mr. Patterson. “You’re just a little tired, that is all.”
The wind chime sang as the front door flew open.
“Sorry, we’re closed—” Kara’s heart shot into her throat.
David sauntered into the store. His blue eyes flashed dangerously. “Hey, Kara. I thought you might still be here. Feel like going for a bite to eat?”
Kara bit down on her tongue to stop the smile that threatened to creep onto her face.
“Sure, I was just locking up.”
“Great.” David smiled, and she quickly looked away. The blood rushed to her face, and she was afraid he could hear her heart beating through her chest.
David stroked his finger along a row of books. “I thought we could catch the seven o’clock show at the Cineplex afterwards...if you don’t have any other plans...”
A smile broke onto Kara’s face as her heart pounded in her ears. “I don’t have any plans tonight. A movie sounds great.” She caught David smiling at her and she looked away.
She inspected herself discreetly. Her jeans were covered in grime—not exactly an appropriate date outfit. Normally, she would have gone home to change, but she wouldn’t dare say so now, in case she jinxed their second date. Besides, David didn’t seem to notice.
“See you tomorrow, Mr. Patterson,” called Kara.
She ignored the butterflies fluttering in her stomach and made her way towards the front door. David beamed at her with a playful glint in his eye. Kara dug her nails into her palm. Even if this was only their second date, she felt more nervous this time around.
Mr. Patterson looked up from the counter and smiled. “Enjoy yourselves. I’ll see you tomorrow, Kara, bright and early.”
Kara closed the door behind her and followed David across the street. Although her nerves still prickled inside her, she allowed herself to relax a little and to enjoy walking next to David. She felt a sense of comfort and trust with him—not to mention a persistent feeling of having known him before, as though they had somehow met before in another life. Whatever force pulled them together, Kara surrendered herself to it gladly.
As she reached the sidewalk on the other side of the street, a sudden feeling of being watched came over her. She looked over her shoulder. Mr. Patterson stood by the front door of his shop. After measuring her for a moment, he smiled and waved. Kara waved back, wondering why he was watching them so intensely. Maybe he was being overly protective of her, although she didn’t know why. She felt safe with David. With a smile on her face, she turned and followed David down the street.
As she got to the end of the block, a short man with wispy white hair and a beard waddled up the sidewalk towards the bookstore. He clutched a small crystal orb and was barefoot. He hopped over the cracks in the pavement as though it was a game of hopscotch. His blue shorts and colorful shirt flapped in the air, and with a last hop he landed in front of the door. His bony knees cracked as he stood up straight. He glanced at Mr
. Patterson and grinned.
“Hello, Jim.”
“Good evening, Sam. Ready to punch out?”
“Five o’clock sharp, as usual.” With his hands on his hips, they both turned around and looked down the block. “She’s one of a kind, that Clara.”
“Indeed.” Mr. Patterson stroked his beard with his grubby little fingers. “She is truly in a class of her own—a real fighter that one, a pure soul—pity we can’t use her as a guardian anymore; I’m rather very fond of her. In fact, she occupies a special place in my heart.”
Tucking in his beard, Sam crossed his arms over his chest. “You know, Jim, I was thinking...we could use her talents again. She did save Horizon and the mortal world. She is quite unique—there is no other angel like her.”
“I agree.” Mr. Patterson nodded his head. “Such extraordinary talent and bravery—it is very rare. It would be a great shame to waste her tremendous abilities.”
“Yes, a great shame.”
“Indeed.” Mr. Patterson watched as Kara and David disappeared around a corner.
“Perhaps we shall call on her again. What do you say?”
“Perhaps we might, Sam. Perhaps we might.”
“Perhaps we should discuss her future with the legion at the next High Council meeting. What do you think, Jim?”
Mr. Patterson raised his eyebrows. “That we shall, Sam. That we shall.”
Sam tossed his crystal ball in the air and caught it easily. “Well now, I must be off. There’s a mix-up with identical twins at Orientation—seems as if we took the wrong one. I’ll see you later, Jim.”
“See you on the other side, Sam.”
Sam stepped through the threshold of the bookstore, clutched his crystal ball, and vanished.
Mr. Patterson smiled. “See you soon, Kara Nightingale.”
SOUL GUARDIANS
* Book Six *
MORTAL
Marked, Soul Guardians Book 1 Page 108