Shattered Souls

by Mary Lindsey

  I had no idea I possessed such a vivid imagination. I looked down at Dad’s tombstone. Is this what his hallucinations were like?

  “I will not end up like that.” I pointed at Dad’s grave with a trembling finger. “Please, please go away.”

  “Clearly, you’re not ready yet. You know where to find me when you are.” He put his warm hands on either side of my neck, and a crazy jolt of current ran through me, causing tingles of electricity to shoot down every nerve in my body. I gasped. He backed up several steps and smiled. “I’m glad you’ve returned.” He then retreated soundlessly into the shadows of the trees.

  It took a moment for my pulse to slow enough for me to catch my breath. I placed my hands on either side of my neck where he’d touched me.

  I had to get out of this place. Had to get out now. It was making things worse.

  Zak was sprawled across the bench, bottle of Jack on its side on the ground. He was so wasted, I’d probably have to call my mom. Please, no, I groaned inwardly. If I ended up calling her, I’d never hear the end of it. I should have let her teach me to drive last semester when she offered. No. Crazy people shouldn’t drive—they end up like Dad.

  After pouring out what was left of the whiskey, I nudged Zak on the shoulder. “Zak, wake up. It’s time to go.” No reaction. “Zak! Come on.” I put my hands on his cheeks and shook his head from side to side. He made some snorting sounds, but didn’t even open his eyes. Damn.

  I pulled out my cell phone to call Mom. Great. No signal. I knew there was reception near the front gate because I’d texted her there.

  Lugging Dad’s guitar, I wandered through the older section of the cemetery, making my way to the gate. A strange pang of familiarity flared as I passed a Celtic cross. It was enormous—at least twelve feet tall—looming over the surrounding monuments like a sentinel for the dead. When I reached an angel with a cracked face, it dawned on me why I was having such an intense sense of déjà vu: these were the objects that had flickered through my brain earlier today—these and the guy from my hallucination.

  I stopped at the angel. Moss grew from the crack in her white marble face, making her even more tragic in her perpetual state of mourning. I reached up and ran my fingertips over the bristly moss, then crouched down to read the pedestal: ROSE 1831–1875. Underneath, barely legible due to the corrosion of the marble, was carved UNTIL WE MEET AGAIN.

  I couldn’t help but feel I was supposed to do something. What? Maybe it was part of the craziness. Hell, maybe I was at home asleep and I’d wake up any second, ending this nightmare.

  “Looking for someone?” The voice was deep and soft. And close.

  I shuddered, but didn’t scream. When I turned, I found the guy from my imagination a few feet away, leaning casually against a crumbling mausoleum—only now I wasn’t so sure he was imaginary. He looked and acted too real. My reaction when he touched me had certainly been no hallucination. The realization that this might not be a dream raged through my body like fire, prickles of fear rolling in waves over my skin. If this was reality, it might be worse than being crazy.

  “I knew you’d come, Rose.”

  I closed my eyes and opened them again, hoping he’d vanish along with my fear.

  A troubled look crossed his face. For several moments, he studied me. “You’re frightened. This isn’t an act. You really don’t remember me, do you?”

  “No.”

  “But you knew where to find me.”

  “No. I just . . .” I looked at the angel, then backed a step away from him.

  “Rose, wait.” He flipped his hair out of his eyes—a totally futile gesture; the salty, wet wind blew it right back. “I . . . wow. Well, I don’t quite know what to do from here. This has never happened to us before. In fact, I’ve never heard of it happening to anyone before.”

  I hugged Dad’s guitar to my chest. “Yeah, well, lots of things happen to me that don’t happen to other people.”

  “Let me guess.” He gave me a half smile. “You think you’re crazy. You think you’re hearing voices.”

  I nodded.

  He took a step closer. “Well, you’re wrong on one of those points.” He placed his hand on my shoulder; a warm current flowed from where he touched me and spread through my chest. “You’re not crazy. I can prove it if you’ll let me.”

  I took a deep breath as the freaky calm spread through me. “What about the voices?”

  “Those are real. That’s why I’m here. I can help you.”

  It was a trick. I jerked my shoulder away and backed up a few steps.

  The guy actually believed my voices were real—if he wasn’t some figment of my imagination, then he was even nuttier than I was.

  I needed to get to the front gate, but part of me wanted to touch him again. To feel that warmth cascade through me. I moved away and pretended to study headstones. My mind kept returning to what he’d said about my death—something about a storm that killed thousands of people. I wandered down the row of graves reading dates on the old, vandalized headstones.

  Undaunted, he followed. “Are you looking for something or someone in particular?”

  My mind was desperately trying to make sense of this craziness. If I could prove the stuff about the storm wasn’t real, maybe I could disprove the other things too. “Well, you mentioned a storm or something. You said that it happened in 1900, right?” I looked over my shoulder to find him following closely, only a foot or so away.

  “September 8, 1900,” he replied, moving up to walk beside me.

  I shifted the guitar to my other hand, putting it between us. “And you said lots of people died.”

  “Over six thousand on this island alone. You were one of them, Rose.”

  I pointed to the marble angel. “Is that supposed to be my grave?”

  He nodded.

  “Why is the date of death 1875 instead of 1900?”

  “That was from several cycles ago.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked at the angel. “Your body was never found after the storm.”

  I had him now. I stopped and set the guitar down. “Yeah, right. Well, then, if all those other people died too—thousands of them—why aren’t there any grave markers with that date? I haven’t even found one from 1900.”

  “You won’t find many. There were too many bodies to bury. It was a real health hazard,” he replied. “Corpses everywhere. Some of them were put on a barge, weighted down, and thrown out in the bay. That didn’t work, though, because they washed back up. We ended up burning most of them.”

  “We?”

  “I lived through it. I was here for the aftermath. Fortunately, I don’t remember most of what happened right after the storm. I’ve read about it to fill in the holes. All I really remember is the smell. The horrible smell of death . . . and looking for you, Rose. But that was another lifetime. That’s behind me now. And here you are.” He touched his fingertips to my cheek, which caused my body to react more than any kiss I’d ever shared with Zak. Gooseflesh broke out on my arms, and my heart thumped so loudly, I could hear it.

  “Look, whoever you are—”

  “Alden.”

  “Right. Alden.” I picked up the guitar. “My name is not Rose. I have no idea who or what you think I am, but clearly you’re mistaken. I want you to leave me alone now.”

  I turned to walk away. He threw himself into my path, arms outstretched. “Wait. How do you plan to get home? Please let me give you a ride. Don’t get in a car with that guy tonight,” he said.

  “You know what? In many ways, you’re scarier than he is. I think I’ll take my chances. Please leave me alone.”

  “Help me!” Fear washed through me in a sharp, painful wave. It was the bogeybaby again.

  Alden closed his eyes and smiled.

  “Did you hear that?” I whispered, setting the guitar down.

  He didn’t open his eyes. “No, I don’t hear hindered spirits. I feel them through you.”

  “Hindered spirits . . . you
mean ghosts?”

  Still smiling, he opened his eyes and nodded.

  “Oh, God. You’re saying it’s a dead person talking to me? Make it go away.” I sidled closer to him, covering my ears with my hands. “Make it leave me alone.”

  “The intensity of your fear makes it hard to concentrate. Shhh.” He took my hand in his, and I immediately felt better; this time when he touched me, it was like a sedative radiating through my body. Some part of me—the wise part—knew I should jerk my hand back and get away from this boy as fast as possible. The crazy part of me wanted to grab his other hand and never let go.

  I flinched when Bogeybaby made another plea for help.

  “Rose, all you have to do is tell it to leave you alone. Tell it to go away.”

  “Go away! Beat it. Get lost!” I commanded the empty air. I held my breath for several moments and waited. “Okay,” I said after several more seconds of silence. I slipped my hand from his and slumped down on the bottom step of a mausoleum. “That seems to have worked.”

  When Alden sat next to me, I scooted to the edge of the concrete step to put some distance between us. What happened when he touched me wasn’t normal. Nothing about him was.

  “It will only work for a while,” he warned. “It will come back until you help it. That’s your job.”

  “My what?”

  “Your job.” He plucked a long blade of grass growing through a crack in the step. “So, what was it?”

  “What was what?”

  He wrapped the grass around his finger. “The Hindered. The voice you heard. Was it male or female?”

  “I don’t know. It sounded like a little kid.”

  “You could resolve a child. What did it want you to do?”

  “I have no idea. It just kept asking me for help.”

  “Call it back. Let’s find out what it wants,” he suggested.

  I jumped up. “What! Are you nuts? Call it back? I want it to go away forever.”

  Alden chuckled. “What are you afraid of? It can’t hurt you while I’m here. Let me show you.”

  I backed up. “No way. You’re crazier than I am—and that says something.”

  “Come on, Rose. I’ll talk you through it. Children are easy.”

  I grabbed the guitar and headed down the overgrown path that led to the road running through the cemetery. “Zak will be worried. I’ve gotta get back,” I shot over my shoulder.

  “Zak’s not worried about you at all,” Alden called from the step. “He doesn’t even know you’re gone. Please, don’t go back. I can help you.”

  I slowed my pace. He was right. Zak didn’t even know I existed right now. I was hoping he’d sober up, but for all I knew, he’d sleep all night. Ridiculous as it seemed, my chances were probably better with this guy.

  “I’ll drop it. I won’t ask you to call the Hindered. Stay here and talk to me. Don’t go back to that guy. He’s dangerous.”

  I stopped. “And you’re not?”

  “No. And I’m not crazy. Neither are you. Let me prove it. Give me five minutes. Please. Five minutes, and then I’ll go away if you still want me to.”

  FOUR

  My options sucked. I didn’t feel safe in this part of town alone, so either I returned to Zak, who was completely wasted, or I stayed with Ghost Boy.

  How had this happened? I knew one thing for certain: I wouldn’t let myself get into a situation like this again. I started walking away from both of them. Once the gate was in sight, I pulled my cell phone out and checked for signal. Yes! It was weak, but at least could I make a call. After a long interrogation, Mom agreed to come get me.

  “You have until she gets here to prove you’re not crazy,” I said as I headed toward the caretaker’s shed at the entrance to the cemetery.

  “How long will that be?” Alden asked.

  “I don’t know. Less than an hour, probably.” I immediately regretted giving out that much information.

  He grinned. “You live in Houston.”

  “No. Not exactly.” How could I have been so freaking stupid?

  “My family lives in West University. Maybe we’re neighbors?”

  “No.”

  Alden jumped up from his perch on the mausoleum step and followed. “I would have taken you home.”

  I walked around to the far side of the small stone building. I knew he was right behind me because his boots crunched through the dry grass. “It’s kind of far. Mom will love this anyway. She’ll have a long time to lecture me on my bad choices.”

  “Maybe you should listen to her,” Alden suggested as he rounded the corner of the shed.

  “Maybe you should mind your own business.”

  “You are my business. My job. You are what I do.”

  I whipped around to face him. “Well, if I’m your job, you’re fired. You creep me out.”

  “That’s not my intention.” He took several steps back. “This is new to me too. Let me help you, Rose.”

  “My name is Lenzi. Lenzi. Not Rose. Please stop calling me that.” It was really irritating.

  “I’m sorry. This is the first time you’ve changed your name. Give me some time to get used to it . . . Lenzi.”

  I sat down on the sidewalk in front of the caretaker shed. From there I could see Zak if he woke up, plus the entrance gate to the cemetery was close enough that I could get to it if Ghost Boy made a move. But he didn’t. He perched on a short, thick grave marker across from me and sat in silence for what felt like forever, closing his eyes occasionally, as if he were listening for something or meditating.

  I glanced at my watch. “If you’re trying to convince me you’re not crazy, you’re failing miserably.”

  “Okay. I’ll let the facts prove my sanity. You are a Speaker. I’m your Protector. Every Speaker is paired with a Protector.”

  “Whatever.” I slumped against the shed wall.

  “We work for the IC—the Intercessor Council—an entity designed to intercede on behalf of the dead. Your job as a Speaker is to help hindered spirits resolve the problems that are keeping them Earth-bound. Sometimes it’s easy. You share your body with them—”

  I jumped up. “No way. I don’t share my body!”

  “Please hear me out. Sometimes the Hindered tell you their problems and then they go on their way. Other times, they aren’t simply hindered by something. Sometimes they are impaired. Those souls are called the Malevolent. They try to take your body as their own. If they can force your soul out, they can live again using your body. When you hear about exorcisms and ghosts tearing up houses and paranormal events like that, it’s almost always a Malevolent. That’s why I’m here. I protect you from the Malevolent when you share your body with another soul. I keep you intact.”

  He was totally making this stuff up. It was either the most elaborate come-on ever or he needed serious psychological help. “I share my body with another soul?”

  “Yes.”

  “Look. I’m not sharing my body with anyone.” I walked to the entrance gate, pushed Dad’s guitar through the bars, and began to scale it. He caught me by the ankle before I reached the top.

  “Stop it. Let go of me,” I cried.

  “Where are you going?” He was gripping my ankle tightly in one hand.

  Panic made my voice waver. “To meet my mom. She’ll be here soon. Let me go.”

  “I’ll let you go when you come to your senses. A girl like you won’t last fifteen minutes outside that gate. Stay with me until your mother arrives.”

  “Let go. You’re scaring me.”

  “Good,” he said. “At least you haven’t lost all your common sense.” He grabbed me by the waist and easily wrenched me from the iron gate, dropping me roughly to the ground. I didn’t get up for fear he’d grab me again.

  “Let me tell you something, Rose. This isn’t a game I’m playing. It’s not me you need to fear. You are in a cemetery in a bad neighborhood in the middle of the night with a guy who’s so drunk he passed out, and I’m the thing tha
t frightens you? Don’t you think I’ve had ample opportunity to hurt you if that was my plan? I could take you right now, and no one would even hear you scream. If I wanted to hurt you, you’d be hurt.”

  I remained crouched on the ground by the gate as he stomped several yards down the road that cut through the center of the cemetery. He ran his hands through his hair before sitting on the brick retaining wall that surrounded the southeast section. He was close enough to catch me if I tried to run. He stared straight ahead, avoiding eye contact, which suited me just fine. I pulled Dad’s guitar back through the gate and then shifted to a more comfortable position with my legs folded under me.

  He was right; I was my own worst enemy. No doubt my mom would tell me all about it the entire way home. Happy birthday.

  The moon was higher in the sky, providing more light. I couldn’t tell what color his eyes were, but Alden had long, light brown, maybe blond hair; it was hard to tell in the moonlight. He had angular features. If it weren’t for the fact he was a crazy, creepy ghost boy, I’d have to admit he was totally hot.

  “That’s better,” he said, as if to himself.

  “What’s better?” I asked.

  “You are. You still don’t believe me, though, do you?”

  “No, I think you’re full of crap. And what do you mean, I’m ‘better’?”

  “I feel your soul responding to your emotions. We’re linked. It’s how I found you. It’s how I protect you.”

  He could feel my emotions? I remained still, trying to get my head around this bizarre scenario. I was less frightened of him now than I was before. I was also pretty convinced that he really believed this whole reincarnated ghost mediator thing.

  “I’m sorry, Lenzi,” he whispered. “It’s frustrating. I know it’s hard for you too. I’ll try to be more patient. I apologize for losing my cool, but I couldn’t risk letting you get hurt.”

  I moved to the wall across from him, keeping the narrow cemetery road between us, and stared at the broken, vandalized monuments. The windows of the mausoleums were boarded or barred and seemed too low. I noticed the doors were short too. “What’s the deal with this place? Is it a graveyard for hobbits or something? The doors are only three feet tall.” I plucked a broad-leafed weed from between the bricks.