Soul Protector (Soul Protector Series)

by Amanda Leigh Cowley

  She peered around the tiny living room. “So, have you thought what other jobs you could do?”

  “Yeah, dogs-bodying for other people like my old job, I guess.”

  “Don’t tell me you actually enjoy doing that?”

  I wrinkled my nose.

  She studied me and smiled. “You know what? I think you’d be good at counselling, like Mum.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Why on earth do you think that?”

  “Because you’re really, really good at helping people with their problems.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes. You don’t know how much I’ve missed you, Gracie. You’re normally the first person I turn to in a crisis, whether its money problems, or boyfriend trouble…” She stopped talking and her words hung in the air.

  We looked at each other, unsure what to say as the atmosphere turned awkward. After a moment, her face crumpled, and she squeezed her eyelids shut. When she began talking again, her voice came out all wobbly.

  “I can’t believe how much I’ve screwed everything up.”

  She opened her eyes and her mascara had smudged underneath. “I know how much I’ve hurt you, Gracie. What kills me is, if it was the other way round, you’d have told him to get lost.”

  I chewed my lip.

  “It’s because you’re strong and I’m not. I’m weak and pathetic, and I hate myself for it.”

  She took a sharp intake of breath and tried to swallow down her emotion.

  Something inside me started to melt. I reached my hand towards her. “Don’t, Michelle. Please don’t cry.”

  Her breathing was ragged, but she carried on talking.

  “I’ve ruined everything… it’s all a mess… you… and poor Mum… she puts on a brave face… but I know she’s torn up inside.”

  I sat shaking my head softly.

  “That’s hard enough to live with… but at least she doesn’t hate me.”

  “Don’t say that. I don’t hate you.”

  She put her head in her hands and I had strain to make sense of her muffled words.

  “Well I hate me. And you should too, after I stole your boyfriend.”

  I put my hands on her face and made her look at me.

  “It wasn’t all down to you, Michelle. Mike’s to blame too.”

  She looked up at me, her make-up smeared into two big panda eyes. “But I’m your sister. We’re supposed to look out for each other.”

  “Yes, and you were sixteen and infatuated with him. He took advantage of you.”

  “I should have said no,” she said, sniffing.

  “Well you didn’t. And everything changed. But things will get back to normal at some point.”

  She blinked a couple of times and took a deep breath.

  “But will you ever get back to normal, Gracie?”

  I moved my hands from her, and stepped back.

  “Yes, of course.”

  She kept looking at me, and it seemed like she was debating whether to say something.

  “Mum said your depression’s getting worse. She’s really worried about you, and so am I. That’s why I had to come and see you.”

  I shrugged my shoulders. “Don’t worry about me. I’m fine.”

  She weighed me up with her eyes.

  I sighed. “Okay, I’m not fine. But I am getting better. And anyway, the reason I’m down at the moment has got nothing to do with you, or Mike.”

  She raised her eyebrows.

  “It’s the truth, Michelle.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. And you’re still my little sister. I’ve hated not seeing you too, but like I said, I just need a bit of time.”

  “How long?”

  I looked at her worried face and it reminded me of how she used to look when Dad was on the rampage.

  “About five seconds…”

  She pressed her lips together, and frowned.

  “Michelle, I’m telling you I forgive you.”

  She leapt at me, nearly knocking me off my feet.

  CHAPTER 19

  .

  Training

  .

  For several days after Michelle had visited, I couldn’t get her comment about me being a counsellor out of my head. And the more I thought about it, the more I realised I wanted to give it a go. Then I’d woken in the middle of the night with an epiphany - a Professional Soul Protector - the job I’d been so adamant I didn’t want to do, was very similar to being a counsellor, just a bit more intimate. Each time the thought popped into my head, I reminded myself Soul Protector stuff was scary, and tried to push it out of my mind. But the idea stood its ground, and gradually wore me down.

  It’s amazing how easily you can change your opinion when desperation sets in. So, after a few days of blowing hot and cold, I finally decided to explore the possibility of becoming a PSP. I knew the money was decent, and although it terrified me, I could see the job would be rewarding in other ways too. And while my own life was a mess, it seemed a good idea to get involved with helping others.

  Tom sounded pleased to hear from me when I rang to tell him, and he organised an interview for me at the Office. Things moved at pace from that point. I was pleased they arranged a car to collect me, because I couldn’t remember the route Dan took after he’d pulled off the M1. And there was no official address to search for it on Google maps.

  It turned out the interview was only a formality. Dan had put in a recommendation for me on my first visit to the Office and I realised that was the reason he’d wanted to answer all the questions when he took me to get registered. Anything that sounded reckless would have made it impossible for me to get the job. The nice lady who interviewed me told me as long as I completed their two month training programme successfully, I would definitely become a Professional Soul Protector. And they were going to pay me to train.

  ~

  On my first session I walked nervously towards the security desk to sign in. In the daytime, the main open plan area of the Office was even busier. People were coming and going with a sense of urgency, while others were huddled in impromptu discussions. I got the feeling they were talking about work, and not the previous night’s telly.

  One of the security guards, Bob, gave me a warm welcome and ushered me over to the waiting area in the corner. It consisted of two sofas placed in an L-shape and a low-level coffee table with business magazines scattered on top. There was a large fern sitting in a glazed ceramic pot in the gap where the sofas met, and to the side was a water-cooler and coffee machine. Several people were already seated.

  I walked over to the coffee machine and spent a few moments studying the various buttons, before grabbing a paper cup and pushing it onto the drip tray. I selected a latte, and inhaled the steamy aroma as white frothy milk, followed by rich brown liquid, poured into the cup.

  I turned to the sofas and hesitated. There wasn’t much space left. A man with blonde hair and ginger roots smiled and shifted over to make room. He had the look of Boris Becker about him.

  “Thank you,” I said, smiling at him, and tried to balance my bag and coffee cup as I sat down between him and a lady with dark hair pinned to the top of her head. She had loose tendrils floating off in all directions.

  Everybody was sat in silence and it made me feel self-conscious. I put my latte on the table, cleared my throat and leant forward to pick up a glossy magazine.

  I scanned the cover. It was called The Soul Fellow and it looked far more professional than Elevate. One of the titles on the front page caught my eye – ‘Paranormal Research Institution Claims Body-Swapping is Possible.’ My fingers raced through the pages until I found the article.

  Paranormal Research Institution Claims Body-Swapping is Possible.

  By J A Norton

  Peter McIntyre, Head of UK’s Paranormal Research Institution, has informed the Government his team are close to providing proof that body-swapping is possible.

  McIntyre reported significant progress in his research after the
team identified an adult male they believe has the ability to body-swap. At an undisclosed location, McIntyre and his team observed the male swap bodies with a second adult male.

  They noted small visual disturbances around the pair at the time of the swap, and stated equipment picked up a change in the electro-magnetic field around them.

  McIntyre went on to explain that the phenomenon can only be performed by certain individuals, although he is unsure of the criteria required for instigating a body-swap at this time.

  With the five year research project nearing its completion date, McIntyre has requested further funding from the Government in order to provide concrete evidence.

  The Government are yet to decide if they will authorise an extension to this highly-controversial research. Inside sources reveal several key officials are unimpressed by McIntyre’s far-fetched claims and believe the money would be better spent elsewhere.

  I read through the report again. At no point did The Soul Fellow make any comment about the facts, and how huge the implications might be for Soul Protectors. They hadn’t even referred to the fact that the terminology ‘body-swap’ was wrong. Unless this Peter McIntyre and his team had been watching two Soul Protectors of course, but I thought that was unlikely.

  One of the loose tendrils of hair from the lady sitting next to me tickled my face. I brushed my cheek discreetly, placing the magazine on my lap. I picked up my cup and had a sip of latte and looked at the organisation around me. I thought of the high security, the fact the office was located in the middle of nowhere, the palm print technology doors, the paperwork all having to be in code, and it hit me. Of course they couldn’t have magazines lying around confirming Soul Protectors were real. They needed to report news, but I guessed they had to keep their opinions to themselves in case the magazine ever got into the wrong hands. What a frustrating way to run a magazine. I made a mental note that if a writer job ever came up at the Office, I wouldn’t apply.

  My heart sped up as I saw three monitors, two men and one woman, make their way through the open-plan area. I checked the faces. I didn’t recognise any of them, and felt a strange mixture of relief and disappointment all at once.

  Dan’s words about being ostracized crept into my mind and I wondered who the Soul Protector that McIntryre and his team had spotted was, and whether he or she had realised they were being observed. Worse still, I wondered if there was a Corrupt Soul Protector who had gone willingly to this Paranormal Research Institution. But if it was a CSP, they would have been informed it was one person switching into another, and not a body-swap, so to speak.

  I flicked through the rest of the magazine, not fully-absorbing the details. I was too busy keeping one eye on the members of staff walking around.

  I saw a lady approaching with shoulder-length hair and a smart blue suit. She stopped walking and smiled down at us.

  “Hello ladies and gentleman. Are you my PSP trainees?”

  I nodded along with the others.

  “I’m Elaine Fortensky, the senior trainer. Follow me. I’ll take you through to the Training Suite.”

  I stood up and dropped my cup in the bin, before dutifully following Elaine and the others out through the reception area and past the large screens on the back wall. She pressed her palm on the same glass door Dan had when I came to get registered. I shook my head. I had to stop thinking about him.

  The labyrinth of corridors opened up to us. As we hurried to keep up with Elaine’s fast pace, I noticed we were leaving the smart décor behind us. The further we walked, the worse it got. Paintwork was flaking off the walls and the smart metallic-looking floor tiles were replaced by threadbare carpet.

  We stopped at a door with ‘lecture room’ on the front. Elaine yanked the handle and we filed inside the dark, chilly room. I rubbed at my arms as Elaine flicked on a light switch. There was a wooden stage down at the front and facing it were rows of staggered seating, each with a small desk.

  Elaine skipped down the steps and ushered us to sit down in the front two rows.

  “Okay people, welcome to your first training session. I’m sure you’re all anxious to get started.” She walked along switching on our desk lamps and then stepped down to stand on the stage, beside a projector screen.

  “The first thing we’re going to do is introduce ourselves,” she said, walking to the side of the stage and dimming the lighting. “I’ll put your name on the screen, and you can come down here and tell the others a little potted history about yourself.”

  Oh Jesus. “Why do trainers do this?” I muttered under my breath.

  “They get some sort of sick enjoyment watching trainees quake with terror,” came the voice of floaty-hair lady.

  I swallowed hard as the first name appeared on the screen. Marcus Taylor. The Boris Becker lookalike who was sitting to my left shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

  “Come on, Marcus, wherever you are. Don’t be shy,” Elaine said, in a chop-chop, hurry-along tone of voice.

  Marcus cleared his throat and stood up.

  “Good luck,” I said, under my breath.

  He gave me a crooked smile before making his way to the front. Once on stage, he stretched out his fingers and then shoved both hands deep in his pockets.

  “Err, yeah, hi everyone… Um, my name’s Marcus…” He stopped and looked at the screen behind him. “… oh right, you already know that…”

  He joined in laughing with us. And as he laughed, he pulled his hands out of his pockets and relaxed.

  He told us how he came from a long line of Professional Soul Protectors and he’d always intended to become one himself, once he’d completed his architect training as a fall-back. He said he’d dabbled in switching ever since his dad had dropped the routine hints and he found out he was a Soul Protector. He said he couldn’t imagine a more worthwhile job than a Professional Soul Protector.

  When he finished speaking, Elaine encouraged us to give him a round of applause. He walked back and gave us an exaggerated bow before taking his seat.

  The next name appeared on the screen. Gracie Reynolds.

  “Oh no, that’s me.”

  “Break a leg, Gracie,” Marcus said, giving me the thumbs up.

  Heart thudding, I walked down the steps and onto the stage. There was a light shining in my face and although I could see all the desk lamps, I couldn’t pick out Marcus or any of the others.

  “H-hello everyone.”

  Elaine was standing by my side, willing me on with her big blue eyes.

  “Erm… I, erm...”

  I stopped and turned to Elaine. “Sorry. I’m just really nervous.”

  “You’re doing great, Gracie,” shouted a voice that sounded like Marcus.

  Elaine nodded enthusiastically.

  I squinted into the darkness, took a deep breath and carried on. “Y-you see, this whole Soul Protector thing has all come out of the blue for me. I only found out…”

  The door at the top of the room creaked and then gently closed again. I stopped mid-sentence, trying to work out if someone had actually entered the room.

  “Hold on a minute,” said Elaine. Her heels clicked as she walked to the edge of the stage and pressed the switch, illuminating the whole room.

  Once my eyes adjusted, I saw there was a man coming down the stairs, and he was wearing a monitor outfit. When I looked at his face, I caught my breath.

  “Oh hi, Dan. Thanks for popping in,” Elaine said breezily.

  He’s not switched.

  “No problem,” Dan said, getting closer, “Bob said you needed to see me.”

  I couldn’t tear my eyes away as he approached the stage. He caught my stare and did a double-take. His expression flicked from surprise to something that resembled irritation. Within a split second he’d corrected himself and was focussed on Elaine again. I was left wondering if I’d imagined it.

  “Yes, I’ve got the results for the aptitude tests your recruits took yesterday,” Elaine was saying as she stooped to pick up
her handbag. “I know you’re trying to get them fast-tracked so I took them home to finish last night.”

  Dan jumped up onto the stage, and stood near me. “Hi, Gracie,” he whispered.

  “Hello,” I mouthed back. Inside my stomach was turning somersaults.

  Elaine waved an envelope in the air as she walked back to the centre of the stage. “Here you go, they’re all inside.”

  “Thanks Elaine, I really appreciate it.” He took hold of the results. “Well, I’ll leave you to get on with it, apologies for the interruption folks.”

  Without looking my way again, he hopped off the stage and climbed the stairs, taking two at a time.

  “Oh, Dan, wait a minute,” Elaine called after him. “Are you coming out for drinks with us later, for Naomi-from-Accounts’ birthday?”

  Dan ran his fingers through his hair. “Um, yeah, I guess so. As long as I don’t get called on a shout…”

  “Oh good, Naomi will be pleased.”

  I heard the door close behind him.

  Elaine turned to me and winked. “Because Naomi’s got the hots for him...”

  I attempted, and failed, to do a light-hearted smile.

  ~

  After a dodgy start, the training sessions improved. My fellow recruits turned out to be a good bunch, especially Marcus who was the class clown. Elaine, the trainer, was a bit over-enthusiastic. She was one of those women whose shirt was always buttoned to the top, and she had an ever-present clipboard firmly pressed to her bosom. But her heart was in the right place.

  She told us that when we became official PSPs we would rely fifty percent on our training, and the rest would come from personal intuition.

  We spent the majority of the course learning about the psychology of people and how to heal them. It was fascinating.

  We even had a session with Mr Matthews, the robot guy. He spoke about the physics of switching, and although I was desperate to give him my full attention, my mind kept wandering as I struggled to stifle the odd yawn.

  It got a bit more interesting when told us how many times you could switch. “It is only possible to switch with one person at a time. So in order to leave a host body, it is only ever possible to switch back into your primary body. There is one exception to this, the Switch Enforcement Chamber.”