The Soul Game

by McQueen, K. T.

  Task: Convince someone to lend you their car, whether you can drive or not. If you can convince them to hand over the keys, you have completed the task.

  It was almost evening when she read the next task. She figured if she was going to try to get someone to lend her their car she’d best go to where all the rich kids partied. Maybe she could convince one that was a bit drunk to let her drive them home or something. But she didn’t want to go out again.

  No more alcohol, she decided. A purple knee length sundress and flat shoes made her look almost local as she walked down to Main Street where all the cars cruised along the seafront. Spotting a bright yellow sports car pull in just ahead she wandered over to take a look, smiling at the driver but he didn’t seem impressed by the attention. Not his car then, she thought to herself.

  She was finding it difficult to go up to the people gathered around the cars. It wasn’t until she came across an older group she thought she might have a chance. They seemed interested in her attention and didn’t have too many other girls around their cars. More refined and yet enjoying the same game the youngsters were. She took her time moving in and looked at the cars as if she was impressed.

  ‘Do you like cars?’ one gentleman asked.

  ‘I like the colours,’ she grinned, ‘especially the purple one, it goes with my dress.’

  ‘It does at that,’ the gentleman agreed indulgently.

  ‘I bet it would be wonderful to drive.’ She sidled around to the driver’s side.

  ‘And easy to drive too,’ he assured her, ‘everything’s adjustable to your preferences, smooth gear changes, and easy to look after.’

  ‘Just expensive,’ she teased.

  ‘Would you like to sit in it?’ he asked.

  ‘Are you sure that would be alright?’ Amanda asked as if she had just been offered the best Christmas present in the world ever.

  ‘It’s my car, I can do what I like with it,’ he chuckled.

  ‘I would love to then.’ Amanda matched his smile and danced out of the way so he could open the door for her. Getting her to scoot over to the passenger side he invited her to eat with them and they drove up the winding roads to the restaurant. But no matter how often she tried she could not convince him to let her drive.

  The meal and company were amazing; she’d never eaten in such a grand restaurant before and was certain she could get used to such a lifestyle. But the night came to an end too soon and he drove her home. She gave him her number and suggested that if he ever visited the UK she would be happy to show him around.

  They parted as friends. Even though she hadn’t managed to complete her task. At least she had tried.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: MAËL

  ‘Babe?’ Joy called softly, just after midnight, as she let herself into the apartment. ‘You still awake?’

  There was no answer and dumping her handbag she took her dripping coat and umbrella into the bathroom. The black dust coating the bath had her frowning. She stuck a finger in it and sniffed, perhaps it was mud or hair dye, even though she was sure Mike didn’t dye his hair. ‘Sulphur?’ She queried. Assuming he had some in a pot somewhere, she shrugged and told herself she’d give it a clean in the morning, the first day she’d had off in ages.

  As she came back out of the bathroom she found Mike curled up asleep on the sofa. Clearly dreaming. Not wanting to disturb him she covered him in a teddy bear soft blanket. Then went to turn up the heating, it was cold tonight. Gazing fondly at him she spied the small black package. Gold ribbon held the paper tight. She’d been a little excited when she saw it, but when she’d read the tag she realised it wasn’t from him but for him. She wondered, as she got ready for bed, who would be sending him presents so expensive looking. She climbed under the covers and woke screaming hours later.

  Something had been reaching for her and she could still feel it wrapped around her wrist. She screamed and thrashed and fought until the laughter filtered in.

  ‘S…sorry, I was having a nightmare,’ she stammered.

  ‘It’s okay, you were whimpering,’ Mike told her pulling her against him. ‘It’s okay, it was just a dream. Why don’t you tell me about it?’

  ‘I think it’s still here,’ she said struggling to sit up and peer around the apartment.

  ‘What?’ he demanded.

  ‘I’m sure I’m imagining it, put the light on,’ she said waving a hand towards the bedside lamp.

  He didn’t move. Staring into the corners, looking deep.

  ‘What did you see?’

  ‘What? I…just a shadow, I was being silly, it’s just the remnants of the dream.’ She was laughing now.

  ‘Humour me,’ he said.

  ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘It was like those girls in the Japanese movies, all long black hair, and white nightgown. Crouched like an upset child hugging its knees I guess.’

  ‘Where?’ It sounded like what he’d thought he’d seen the night before.

  ‘In the corner near the door. That’s where it started in my dream, but then it was under the bed and trying to pull me under too.’ She chuckled, nervous. ‘Let’s just go back to sleep.’

  He got off the bed and crouched down beside it, peering under, searching. There shouldn’t be anything in here, they shouldn’t be able to get in after he repaired the wards.

  ‘How can you even see anything down there without the light on?’ Her muffled voice asked as light invaded the darkness.

  ‘Thought I’d best check for monsters,’ he said with a grin.

  ‘Oh, you were scaring me!’

  ‘I was trying to reassure you,’ he said. With a last glance, over to the corner, he climbed under the covers and pulled her close. ‘Blimey you’re freezing.’

  ‘You weren’t here to warm me.’ She giggled.

  ‘Well, I’m here now.’ He let her get settled before peering around the room again, the bedside lamp diminishing his ability to see into the dark places.

  He half slept and half watched, holding onto her all night. Falling asleep as dawn broke. They woke to a knock at the door. And Joy climbed out of bed.

  ‘Hello,’ he heard Joy say.

  ‘Delivery,’ the guy said. ‘Just sign here.’

  ‘Thanks,’ she said.

  ‘What is it?’ He called.

  ‘Boxes of books,’ she said coming back to bed. ‘Guess they want you to sell more.’

  ‘Yeah, they’re impressed with my sales technique.’ He pulled her in close and started to doze off again.

  ‘Yeah? How many have you sold?’

  ‘No idea, about 200?’ He muttered.

  ‘Do you have to work today?’

  ‘No, I’m going to take today off and catch up on some sleep.’ He tried to bury himself deeper into the covers and pull her with him.

  ‘I’m going to go and clean the bath then have a soak.’ She twisted out from under him.

  ‘Okay,’ he muttered letting her go. Not paying attention.

  She padded across the polished wooden floors to the bathroom and closed the door behind her. He heard the water turn on. But the noises were wrong. He frowned sleepily, he could have sworn she said she was going to take a bath. Yet it didn’t sound like she’d even put the plug in.

  He sat bolt upright, swung his legs off the bed and sprinted as best he could to the bathroom. He pulled the door open and found her leaning over the bath, her face looking like someone had just surprised her with the biggest birthday party ever.

  ‘What is this?’ She gasped. ‘It’s miraculous!’

  ‘Shit,’ he muttered. ‘It’s Sulphur.’

  ‘Sulphur,’ she said, mesmerized, staring at her own hand, back and front.

  ‘Let me just rinse the bath, get the rest of it out so you can soak in some bubbles and relax.’ He tried to get past her.

  ‘Not bubbles,’ she said. ‘Put Sulphur in.’

  ‘I can’t.’ He stalled. ‘I ran out.’

  ‘Well don’t rinse it out, just fill the bath. I’m sure you weren
’t that dirty when you got in.’ She reached over and collected a pinch from the bottom rubbing it between her thumb and finger; still in absolute awe. ‘How have I never heard about this before?’

  ‘You’ve heard of Sulphur before,’ he said beginning to rinse the bath out.

  ‘I said leave it in!’ she yelled.

  ‘Right, sorry.’ He glanced down to see he’d managed to rinse away at least half of it. ‘It’s not good to use so much of it.’

  She was ignoring him and rubbing it on her face, the apple of her cheek.

  ‘Stop that, it needs to be watered down not put straight on. It’ll burn,’ he told her as calmly as he could manage. He should have rinsed the damn bath out last night.

  ‘It doesn’t burn at all.’ She sounded dreamy.

  ‘I’m serious, it works its way under the skin and then begins to burn when you can’t do anything about it. Wash it off. You can bathe in what’s left if you promise to only use the water it’s in and not the salts themselves.’ He was one sentence away from begging. It wasn’t the sulphur people used in their baths and cosmetics. This was like black salt. It came from a dark place. It could do more than burn.

  ‘Okay, I promise to only use it whilst it’s in water.’ She looked sweet. ‘But seriously, have you seen how smooth my skin looks? From just that brief contact?’

  ‘Yeah, it’s good. How do you think I look so good all the time? I’m really a thousand years old.’ He grinned and she burst out laughing breaking the weird atmosphere. ‘Tell you what, I’ll make you a cuppa whilst you run your bath. Then you can relax in the magical waters.’

  ‘Oh, would you? That would be amazing.’ She turned the taps on. The plug firmly in place. A slight black sulphur residue still in the bottom.

  ‘Be right back.’ He left. Then ran across to the kitchen to boil the kettle and make her a mug of her favourite herb tea – to which he would add a countermeasure to prevent the negative side effects of the sulphur. The last thing he needed was her starting little fires with her fingers when she was getting dressed.

  As he was carrying the tea back to the bathroom he spotted the gold wrapped package. ‘Ah sweet,’ he thought. ‘She got me a present.’

  With a grin, he pushed his way into the steamy bathroom and paused.

  ‘This is amazing,’ came her voice through the clouds. ‘Where did you get it?’

  ‘Specially made by a friend who sells bath products,’ he said, having an idea. ‘I’ll get him to make some for you if you like.’

  ‘That would be so great, I already love how soft my skin feels. And even. It’s so even.’ She was letting the rivulets of water run down her arm as she stroked it with her other. ‘I’m sure it’s already cleared that rash on my elbow.’

  ‘It’s good, right? But like I said, you have to be careful with it.’

  He was going to have to ring Marcel and have him create something that softened her skin, smelled like sulphur and looked like black salt. And he knew it would cost him a pretty penny, if not some kind of favour. Marcel was his go-to guy for all the potions, essential oils, and other magical ingredients he needed. His cover was impressive, though. One of those high-end fancy toiletry places. Sold all kinds of special scents and soaps. Everything to make the skin and body just the way any human could ever want it. At a price few could afford. His real customers had their orders hand delivered by Miss Spice, his glamourous assistant.

  ‘I’ll be careful with it. I promise.’ She giggled. ‘What would happen if I were to wash my hair in it?’

  He sighed. ‘Why don’t you try it and find out?’

  He placed her tea on the side unit and left her to it.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: MAËL

  As he got off the phone she emerged from a cloud of steam wrapped in the largest of his bath towels.

  ‘You didn’t open your gift yet,’ she said peering at her reflection in the framed Hateful Eight poster.

  ‘I was waiting politely for you to officially give it to me.’ He smiled.

  ‘Oh, it’s not from me. It was here when I got in.’ She didn’t see his dark look as he glanced at the gift.

  He moved towards it, wary now. No idea who it was from. Picking it up he sniffed at it.

  ‘What are you doing? Just open it!’ she laughed at him, pulling him around to sit on the sofa with her. ‘Doesn’t my skin seem to be glowing?’

  She was right, it did seem like she’d been renewed. Not that she needed it.

  He pulled the end of the ribbon and then the paper. Careful not to tear it. Inside was a little black box. And inside that was a ring. Simple and gold, a black stone in the centre carved like a rose.

  ‘Oh, that’s beautiful.’ Joy sighed over his shoulder.

  He glanced up at her and back at the box; the ring held between his thumb and first finger, trying to remember if he’d seen it before. Some memory pulling at his consciousness.

  ‘There’s something underneath.’ Joy reached forward to indicate the pale blue paper tucked under the cushion. He struggled not to pull the box away from her as she pulled out the note and handed it to him.

  Dear Michael

  This was your great grandmother’s wedding ring. Your mother asked me to bring it to you before she passed. I hope that you choose a woman who brings you great joy and happiness to give it to. I had hoped to know you and your mother better but circumstances meant we could never be together. One day I hope to have the opportunity to explain to you why.

  We met in person once, a long time ago, I’m sure you don’t remember me but I remember you. I brought you a large bag of interesting sweets.

  I wish you the best,

  Luce.

  Mike sat back. A mixture of shock and surprise racing across his face.

  ‘That’s a strange spelling for Lucy. Or is it Luke?’ Joy said.

  ‘It’s neither. It’s pronounced loose,’ Mike said. His insides had just sprung to life with questions that needed answering. And yet fear of the answers prevented him from finding a way to ask. He knew he wasn’t meant to seek out his father. His mother had insisted. But what if, now that she was gone, it wouldn’t be such a big deal.

  ‘It’s a beautiful ring,’ Joy whispered.

  ‘Yes, it is.’

  ‘I wonder if it has a name,’ she said, picking up the box to look at it again.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Rings that are this well made, and I assume worth a lot of money, are often one-offs and named.’ Joy smiled at him. ‘You need to put it somewhere safe and get it valued so you can have it insured.’

  She wandered over to the wardrobe and pulled out jeans and a sweater.

  ‘Yes, somewhere safe,’ he muttered, returning the letter and ring to the box. Where could he put a ring when he wasn’t even sure his apartment was safe?

  ‘I’m going to make some lunch,’ Joy said, now fully dressed and heading for the kitchen.

  They ate at the breakfast bar, big fat sandwiches, and crisps.

  ‘Casey from work is desperately hunting for somewhere to rent. Her landlord is selling up and told her she has to move out,’ Joy was saying. ‘You don’t know anywhere cheap, do you? Any of your friends renting somewhere small, for just her and her boys?’

  ‘Not that I know of. I can ask,’ he said. The people he knew were landlords her friend wouldn’t want to have to deal with.

  ‘I was going to ask them to move in with me. There’s not quite enough space but if the boys shared the spare room we could put a bed in the dining room and make it her bedroom.’ She looked thoughtful. ‘I’m here most of the time anyway.’

  ‘Why don’t you just move in permanently?’ he said before he’d fully thought it through. ‘Then Casey could have your room and you could keep me warm every night.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ She asked, putting her sandwich down. ‘I mean, are you sure we’re ready for that?’

  ‘We’ve been together for over a year. If we can’t live together by now it’s probably never going to hap
pen.’ He laughed at the look on her face. ‘I mean, I’d love to have you live here with me, waking up to you every morning. Going to bed with you every night. Knowing you’d be coming home to me.’

  ‘Aw, that’s so sweet.’ She smiled. ‘Are you absolutely sure, if you’re not you need to say now. Because I’m going to call her right now.’

  ‘Go for it.’ He grinned and went back to his sandwich.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN: YELLOW

  Task: That thing you know you must do today? Don’t do it. That piece of work that you are meant to finish, just don’t bother or take so long over it that people start asking what’s wrong with you. You must huff and sigh and procrastinate all day.

  The next day he didn’t bother getting out of bed before lunchtime. When he did he crawled into the kitchen to make the biggest fry up he could manage. He ate his way through a plate of bacon, eggs, beans, sausage, black pudding, fried bread, tomatoes, and little bacon potato things. A gallon of tea and two packets of crisps. He didn’t bother checking emails to see what had sold and for how much before he went back to bed.

  The thing he was meant to be doing that the book told him he shouldn’t do was helping his best mate paint his house. He read whilst he ate. Ignoring phone calls and messages until he was so sick of hearing the phone he flushed it. But it didn’t go anywhere, just lay there at the bottom of the loo, still on. Didn’t even make sense how it could still be on. He watched it till the last spark of life flickered out, then went back to bed.

  Someone spent the best part of an hour hammering at his front door and yelling through the letter box. But he ignored that too. He wasn’t doing anything to help anybody anymore. In fact, it would be a miracle if he even bothered getting up for work tomorrow. The house phone rang until he got up, picked up the handset and said…