Broken Souls

by Jade M. Phillips

  “It’s all about control,” I said. Cloe’s face twisted. I sensed her fear and doubt, but shining through it all was hope. I smiled. I’d become noticeably better at sensing others emotions and couldn’t help but think Wilson would be proud of me. But for now, Cloe needed to protect herself.

  “Do you remember back when you first became a vampire?” I asked.

  She looked far off into the distance as though grasping at something just out of reach. But after a moment her eyes flashed and she came back to me. She nodded, a glint of hurt inside her gaze.

  “Do you remember how hard it was to control your new body? How even the slightest movement was a struggle? How everything felt so foreign and so new? Making your legs move without rushing miles ahead, turning a door handle without ripping it off, keeping your fangs drawn in even at your worst moment of anger?”

  Cloe’s eyes glistened, weighing my words. She nodded slowly, remembrance on her face. I continued.

  “What if you could take the same learned control that helped you become what you are, and manifest it in a different way? What if you could transform it into a mental action rather than a physical one? A way that would protect your thoughts and feelings.” I hoped what I was about to teach Cloe wouldn’t be for naught, but in my heart I believed it would work. I didn’t wait for a response, but placed my hands on the side of her smooth cheeks. “Now. Close your eyes.”

  She did so and took a deep breath. The sounds of chirping crickets chimed all around us and the breeze whistled through the trees.

  “Think of your worst fears,” I whispered. “Your deepest dreams and strongest emotions. Pull them to the forefront of your mind. Give them life.” Her lids twitched and her chest rose and fell softly with breath.

  “Do you feel it?” I asked, and Cloe nodded, her eyes still closed tight. “Take those feelings and emotions and group them together. Ball them up tight and don’t let them run loose.” I sensed Cloe becoming calmer now, her apprehension fading away. That was good.

  “Now take that ball and make it disappear. Imagine it vanishing into thin air, leaving nothing but a blank slate. Clear your mind completely and leave nothing behind.” Cloe’s hair fluttered in the breeze, her shoulders relaxed. The fear, pain, and anger I’d felt from Cloe before fled, leaving a newfound peacefulness.

  “You did it.” I said and her eyes shot open, studying me.

  “I did?” she asked.

  “Yes. I can’t sense anything from you except for serenity. You’ve hidden your emotions away and no one will ever know what you are really thinking, not even Horus. But you must continue to work on it because next time you try, it might not be in such a calm setting. It might not be so easy.” I couldn’t tell what Cloe was feeling, but by the expression on her face, she looked happy and hopeful.

  “Do you think it will really work? With Horus?” she asked. “As vampires, we are sensitive to each other’s emotions. Horus is my maker and his bond to me is even more powerful than anyone else’s. Do you think I could block him out?”

  I shrugged, unable to wipe the hopeful smile from my face. “You won’t know until you try.”

  Cloe took my hands in hers. “Thank you. For so long I’ve had him looking over my shoulder, gleaning my thoughts and emotions like a parasite. I may finally find some solace from him after all, even if only in my mind.”

  The corners of my mouth curled into a smile. “I hope so.”

  Cloe sighed and reached down to grab one of the laundry buckets. She turned it over and dumped out the water. “Sunrise is approaching fast. You’d better get back to Jax and Orie’s before curfew.”

  “I guess you’re right,” I agreed, turning to go.

  “Ruby,” Cloe called out causing me to swivel in place. She tangled her fingers together. “I wasn’t so sure before, but now I think you’re right. Things can always get better, even in the darkest of nights.”

  I smiled and nodded, pleased for even the tiniest ray of hope I may have given her. “Goodnight Cloe,” I said.

  I felt her eyes following me as I left the park.

  EIGHTEEN: RUBY

  Days flew by and fall approached fast. The leaves on the trees changed color, the crisp air blowing a slight chill. I watched Cloe’s spirits rise, as well as those of the humans in the shelter. After my shifts, I found ways to meet my friend at the laundry well and we talked about everything under the moon, from her life as a human to the current affairs of Tombstone. Cloe finally divulged to me that since I’d taken over blood slave duty she was being kept busy taking care of a prisoner down at the jail.

  Due to the goat’s blood Pandora somehow produced, my strength grew and my own spirits rose. But no matter how much better things became, no matter how hard I tried to forget him, Guy was ever-present in my mind. I would wake in the morning with him in my heart as if I were lying next to him as I slept. He was always in my dreams. His soothing voice would echo through my mind. But despite my heartache, I was kept busy with blood slave duty and keeping my temporary home with the werewolves fully stocked with food.

  One night when I was tidying the cellar in which I slept, my curiosity got the better of me. I eyed the boxes sitting in the corner of the room, daring a peek inside. They held nothing of value except for some old curtains, wall paint and chipped picture frames. Another box held some old rusted tools. It gave me an idea.

  Jax, my host, had never fully warmed up to me, nor had been given the chance for being so busy. Being head of security and with the assumed threat that FUSE was nearby, he was constantly wrapped up in meetings and work. I swear the man never slept and his demeanor just kept getting more and more sour as time went on. It was a major downer.

  So when Pandora gave me the night off to evaluate The Shelter, I took the opportunity to fix up the old house. By doing so I might bring a little happiness to the werewolf leader and his younger brother. Besides, it was my house too and I wasn’t fond of staring at peeling wallpaper and dusty rooms.

  I got to work scraping and painting walls, fixing loose hinges on doors and cleaning up the dirty floors. I took some items down to the laundry well and returned with clean curtains and bed linens. I hung framed photographs of mountains and forests hoping it would cheer up the place. I opened the windows to let the fall breeze filter through the house. And just when Jax and Orie would be arriving home, tired from a long night’s work, I decided to make some pancakes. It was one of the only things I knew how to cook from my human life.

  Orie’s expression was joyous as he trotted through the door, a grumpy Jax trailing behind him.

  “Wow,” he exclaimed, noticing the changes I’d made. “It looks like a real home now.”

  “You like it?” I rubbed my flour-covered hands over an apron I’d found in one of the boxes.

  “I love it! It reminds me of the house I grew up in. And— what is that smell?”

  “Pancakes,” I smiled.

  I set the platter of pancakes and syrup in the middle of the dining room table which I had cleared of clutter. I stood back to admire my work. Jax grunted as he looked over the spread, the candle light showing his lined forehead.

  “It’s your favorite, Jax.” Orie beamed. “Remember how mom used to make pancakes every Sunday?”

  “I don’t have time for pancakes,” Jax rumbled, taking off his weapons and tossing them on the coffee table.

  Orie shrugged. “Whatever. More for me.”

  He excitedly threw down his jacket and sat at the table. I fetched some cups of hot tea I also made. Jax watched Orie slap some cakes onto his plate and cover them with syrup. I sensed a trace of envy coming from the older wolf.

  “Fine,” Jax huffed. “Maybe just a couple.”

  Orie and I exchanged glances and I stifled a giggle. Within minutes we all were sitting at the table, dining and chatting, Jax telling us about his night.

  “We’ve been preparing for the lock-down that will be happening in just a few days,” he said.

  “What’s in these pa
ncakes?” Orie interjected, glancing up at me. He spoke with a full mouth. “Mmm. Tastes like… is it nutmeg?”

  “Vanilla.”

  “Huh,” Orie mused, continuing to devour the food. I looked to Jax who inhaled his food equally as fast.

  “What’s a lock-down?” I asked, taking a sip from my cup.

  Orie opened his mouth but Jax spoke first. “It’s a drill so the townspeople can be prepared for when a real emergency hits.”

  I smiled, happy that Jax was now on speaking terms with me. I knew the large werewolf wasn’t too happy about me staying with him —much less giving me the chance to live. But I could tell his irritation with me was only now slight at best. Might’ve had something to do with pancakes, but one could never be sure.

  He shoveled in a large syrupy bite and went on to explain about the lock down. When the first alarm sounds in town everyone must extinguish any lights or fires and retreat to the nearest home or inn. They would lock the doors and hunker down until a second alarm rings, clearing everyone to safely come out.

  “It’s a great idea,” I replied, wrapping my fingers around my cup.

  “Jax is a great leader,” Orie beamed, obviously proud of his older brother. “There’d never been any means of evacuation or security plans before my brother took over. He’s the one who orchestrated the lock-downs and the scouting missions.”

  I nodded with a wide grin. For the first time in what seemed forever I felt welcomed, the scene reminiscent of one I would have with my family, eating dinner and talking. The homesick ache I’d had for so long subsided, if only a little. My cheeks hurt from grinning so much and I thought the night was ending on a rather high note before Orie spoke up again.

  “So has the prisoner given any more information?”

  “No,” Jax answered, guzzling down his tea, shooting me a wary glance. “And we don’t need to be discussing matters of security when off duty.” A sudden tension filled the room, and my curiosity got the better of me.

  “Who’s the prisoner? Is that the one Cloe says she’s been attending to?”

  Orie wiped his face with a cloth napkin and slid me a glance. “You didn’t know? That’s why our security has been heightened. We have a very influential leader of FUSE being held within the jail.” I nearly choked on my own tongue, fear stabbing through me. Orie continued eating as though he hadn’t just cut into my heart with his words.

  Could it possibly be the one person that meant most to me? Could Guy Stone have been here in Tombstone this whole time without me knowing? Thousands of soldiers made up the FUSE army and it could be anyone, but I still couldn’t help my stomach sinking at the possibility.

  “Orie,” Jax scolded, warning him against discussing this in front of me. I ignored Jax’s warning and pried Orie for more information.

  “When you say he’s a very influential leader, what do you mean? Is he some sort of General… or… or a Captain maybe?”

  “I’m not exactly sure…” Orie mused.

  I kept my expression impassive, not wanting to seem too curious. But I couldn’t stop myself from asking more questions.

  “Do you know his name? When did he arrive?”

  Orie opened his mouth to speak but Jax abruptly cut him off and slammed a clenched fist down on the table.

  “That’s enough.” His angry gaze flickered to me and back to Orie. “This subject is classified and will not be discussed any longer.” Orie looked down at his empty plate like a child being scorned. I kneaded my fingers together beneath the table, knowing I needed to be careful with my words and my curiosity. I couldn’t let on to my connection to the FUSE army.

  “It’s time for bed,” Jax grumbled and took his plate to the sink. Without another word he left Orie and I sitting at the kitchen table. I wanted more than anything to pry Orie for more information now that Jax was gone, but I thought better of it. I needed to be cautious. At least, for now.

  Yet my pulse still quickened at the terrifying possibility of Guy being locked up in that horrible cell, having to deal with Horus none the less. But I shook my head, thinking I was jumping to conclusions. I didn’t know for sure it was Guy. It could’ve been any high-ranking soldier, and from what I’d witnessed the few times I ran into FUSE soldiers, they were everywhere. There were so many of them that it could be anyone, purely coincidental.

  “Are you feeling okay?” Orie asked me with concern. “You look ill.”

  I looked down to see how hard I was clenching my hands beneath the tablecloth. I relaxed my grip and took a deep breath, forcing a smile on my lips.

  “I’m fine. It’s just been a long night.”

  Orie stood from the table and offered me a sympathetic grin. “Don’t worry about my brother. He gets a little tense under pressure. Most people think he’s scary, but inside he’s just a big teddy bear. The longer you stay with us, you’ll see.”

  Despite the worry which permanently placed itself within me, I smiled at Orie’s vote of confidence.

  “I’m off to bed,” Orie yawned. “I have to be up early this evening. There’s a pre-lock-down meeting for the guards.” I nodded, unable to speak. My throat had gone dry.

  Orie dropped his plate into the sink. “Thanks for breakfast. It was the best I’ve had in a long time.”

  My smile faded as he left the kitchen, a feeling of unease growing inside of me. The house sat silent and my two roommates locked themselves in their rooms. But I… I just sat there.

  I couldn’t bring myself to get up and go to bed. After finding out a FUSE soldier was being held at the jail only a block away from our house, my mind was in a tailspin. My conscience argued with me, saying I should just do the honest thing and go to bed. But my heart said otherwise.

  Before I knew what I was doing, I snuck out the front door and into the grey pre-dawn morning, hoping I could find some clue to the mysterious soldier before the sun rose over the mountains.

  NINETEEN: CLOE

  Hatred for Horus boiled the cold blood in my veins, and I couldn’t help but reflect on how much I despised him. But there was nothing I could do. He was my maker after all, the one who turned me, therefore bonding us for all eternity. The thought was always herculean and more than I could handle, so I did what I always did and opted to look at the smaller picture instead, taking one day at a time. That was easier to grasp. What made it easier as well was Ruby showing me how to control my thoughts, a much-needed tool to have when in close confines with such an impulsive vampire.

  But even with a glimpse of hope, old habits still die hard, and I lay in the open double coffin Horus and I shared, finding myself sinking back into the depths of my mind. I stared at the ceiling and remembered how I came to be this way. The traumatic incident had marked my soul so heavily, I found myself reliving the scene on a daily basis, like watching a terrible movie I could not shut off. I would never escape my past.

  I remembered back to the night twenty years ago when I was captured and brought to Tombstone, a night I would never forget…

  It was December and unusually cold in the city of Benson, Arizona. I was seventeen years old living in a trailer park with my drug addict mother and her boyfriend. I always made myself busy by working as a busser at the local bar or hanging out at friend’s houses so as not to have to go home and deal with the disaster which was my mom. But despite how hard I tried to ignore the situation, I’d always been insecure and unhappy with my life. I felt I had no worth. I was ashamed of my family and my home and of the clothes I wore. I was ashamed of what my mother let her boyfriend do to me. I felt unloved.

  Though meek and timid, I was an unruly teenager and self-destructive at that. I partied and drank and went with any guy that would have me, trying to fill the hole in my heart. But it was never enough to make me forget who I really was, the product of a broken home.

  Christmas Eve arrived quickly and my mother insisted I spend time with her and Paul. She wanted us to act like a family, if only for one night. I reluctantly abided her wishes and made m
y way into the trailer. Paul sat in his recliner watching ‘The Price is Right’ reruns on the old box TV. He held a bottle of scotch in one hand and a joint in the other. He wore stained sweats and a crooked Santa Claus hat that sat on top of his bulbous head.

  “Well look what the cat dragged in,” he said eyeing me up and down. He passed the joint to my mom who fell over when reaching for it. I looked at her with disgust. She was an older version of me; small-framed, delicate facial features and long brown hair. But she was washed up and ragged, a pathetic version of a woman. The two laughed drunkenly, and I rolled my eyes, knowing they were severely messed up. I wished I hadn’t come home.

  “Come in honey!” Mom slurred, crawling back to the sofa. “Let’s open our presents!”

  I gazed around the trashed shoebox and saw nothing in the way of presents. Nor a Christmas tree or decorations. The only thing spirited was the stupid red hat on Paul’s disgusting head. But I said nothing as usual and sat in the empty spot on the sofa next to my mother.

  “You got the presents, didn’t you Paul?” Mom asked, wavering.

  Paul coughed after taking a big pull from his bottle. “There wasn’t enough money.” He turned his attention to me. “How much did you make at the bar tonight?”

  Panic gripped my chest, knowing Paul and Mom were in a bad way when they asked me for money. I only worked part time after school and hardly made enough to pay for my school supplies and clothes.

  “Answer me girl!” Paul snapped. “How much you bringin’ home in tips?”

  I fought the urge to reach into my pockets and pull out my tip money. I always gave them my money when they asked, afraid of the repercussions if I didn’t. But this time I’d spent the money on a new pair of shoes, a Christmas present for myself because I knew that was all I’d be getting.

  “I… I don’t have any,” I whispered. I’d always had a meek personality —until I had a few drinks in me and was around my friends. But I never liked conflict and did my best to step wide around it.