The Soul Seekers

by Amy Saia

  I nodded, still clinging to him, my fingers wrapped inside his hair. “It doesn’t have to be that way though. There’s too much that connects us.”

  “You’re not going to get hurt because of me. I won’t allow it!”

  His hands spread across my back, the ice burning me, lifting every follicle on my skin and then warming them back down with the fire.

  “I told you, who cares if I get hurt? It’s up to me.”

  “No!”

  “Yes,” I whispered. “Yes, this is my life, and I get to spend it how I please. I found the coin, I’m the only one who can see you. It’s fate.”

  A frown flashed in the corners of his mouth. “Don’t doom yourself to fate, Emma. Fight it a little.”

  His hands moved to extricate me, which I resisted. Our eyes met, lips close.

  “What’s wrong with me wanting to help you? You’re just afraid.”

  When I toyed with a strand of black hair, his eyes closed. “I’m terrified,” William said.

  “But you shouldn’t be. I’m here for this. I know it. When we get you back into a normal life again, you’ll be happy that I helped.”

  This time William was successful in unbinding my grasp, and he moved away to sit on a crate of records. “Oh,” he said, eyebrows raising for a second. “I see.”

  “What?”

  “You think I can be normal again.”

  “Well, yes. I thought that’s what this was all about. Don’t you want to?”

  William bent over to pick up an old record sleeve with Dean Martin on the cover. “I gave up on that idea a long time ago.”

  “Then what? I don’t understand.”

  “Emma, I’m just trying to keep from becoming a Seeker. There’s no hope in me ever being alive again.”

  “I don’t believe that.” I turned, no longer able to look into his eyes. “I think there is a chance. I can feel it.”

  “How exactly did you think something like this would work? We’re caught in something that’s too big to handle. All human knowledge is completely subservient compared to what they do. We don’t have the means to change me back.”

  I frowned, still hiding with my back turned. It was true that I’d misunderstood his plans and had begun to think impossible things. But, why would it be any harder to keep him safe than it would be to make him a real human again? Either one seemed impossible. Why not try?

  “Because if we do, you’ll be caught in the crosshairs. It’s not worth it.” He’d heard my thoughts, and this time I felt intruded upon.

  I brushed my hair away from my shoulder, feeling the heat of the attic more than ever, even with him near. “You’ll be stuck here forever then, or worse.”

  It hurt to think of him dying. A hard lump caught in my throat, and knifelike pain pushed against my chest for the reality of hopelessness.

  He sucked in a breath, and I heard footsteps coming near, but they stopped short of where I stood, by the wedding dress. “I’m used to the idea, Emma.”

  But I’m not.

  In resignation, I reached for a box of old sewing scraps, perfect for a new quilt. Gran had said the other day how she needed some to start a new project. I took the box over to sit by the attic door. When I looked up, William was leaning against a dresser covered in muslin. He gave me a sweet smile, and I, despite the burning feeling in my chest, smiled back.

  I remembered the old newspaper article, pulled it from the trash, scanned over the article again, and handed it to him. “Look, William. You probably remember this, right?”

  He inspected the headline and showed a sour expression. “Yes, unfortunately. My sister went to one of those and came back saying how wonderful they were. She wanted me to go with her, but I never did.”

  He couldn’t read the full article without throwing it back in the trash.

  “I remember not liking the way she started to act as if she belonged to them and felt compelled to go to the meetings every other night. I tried to convince her it was abnormal, but she said they made her feel as if she belonged.” He pressed his lips together in tension. “Our adoptive mother encouraged her to go.”

  “William, tell me about your sister. You said she meant a lot to you. What was she like?”

  “She was pretty, but I showed you that.”

  I smiled and nodded at the memory. Pretty was too modest a word, she had been luminous and graceful, more than any movie star on screen.

  “She was a comfort to me, maybe I relied on her more than I should have, but she had a kind and generous spirit.”

  “What did you do after she died? I saw you there on the street when they took her away. What happened to you?”

  William leaned over on his knees, examining a photograph he’d found on the floor. “I ran. Our adoptive mother smiled at the news of Cathy’s death. I tried hard not to hate her, I really did Emma, but she was truly an awful human being. My sister gone and nothing but a smug grin.”

  A book slipped out of my hands in distraction. His pain was fresh and new, despite all the years, and I could feel it transferring to me. “Where did you go?”

  “Down to the lake to camp out for a few days, until I decided it would be wrong to miss the funeral. I went back to town but wasn’t allowed inside the church. I put up a fight, and just when the police started to put the handcuffs on my wrists, they showed up.”

  I didn’t have to guess who he meant by that.

  “Marcus convinced the police that I needed a mental evaluation and that the congregation was well equipped to handle my needs. Alistair spoke of a ceremony and said we’d be going into the caves. The eclipse was coming and they were all very excited.

  “They dragged me through limestone tunnels using a mental force I wasn’t equipped to handle. I had a certain amount of psychic powers but I wasn’t strong enough to deal with what they were doling out. Whenever I fought back, a paralysis would stun me. All my muscles became lead, even my bones felt numb.

  “We reached a large cavern room where they tied me down. Men in robes hovered over me, chanting horrible prayers.”

  I was now sitting at his side, glued to every word. Somewhere along the line I had grabbed his hands and held them tightly. “Go on,” I whispered, holding in a breath as he raised my hands to his lips to place a gentle kiss on each palm. Carefully he placed them back into my lap and pulled his away, continuing with the rest of his story.

  “Candles flickered around me, making the darkness shift in horrible ways. Faces flashed and danced with demonic patterns. The chants continued until I could feel something strange happening to my insides. My mind started to buzz, and my breath . . . I could feel all the breath being sucked out of my lungs.

  “I looked at the one called Marshall and I could see hesitation, perhaps compassion for my ordeal. Something told me he wasn’t a true member—he just didn’t seem to know what his place was in the group. All the others, Marcus, Alistair, Quinn, Vincent, and Cyril were deep in the meditation, but not him. When his eyes met mine, I pleaded for release and saw a flicker of response, an inner struggle.

  “The eclipse had gone through half of its phases at this point, with the room becoming brighter. I saw Marshall hesitate again, then suddenly he grabbed the coin and whispered for me to take it, fast, and hide it somewhere if I could. He said he didn’t mind what they might do to him in punishment for setting me free—it no longer mattered.

  “He placed the coin my hand, cold and electric, and explained the reason being that part of my soul was now trapped inside. He stressed again that I hide it somewhere, that if the rest of the group ever found it, they would finish the job. I clasped the coin tightly in my hand and made a quick exit, following a tunnel he pointed to. My body was weak, and I had a difficult time making the trek, but I knew—I could feel—something evil inside those
caves. It frightened me. You can’t imagine how happy I was to see the bluffs when I made it out a few hours later.”

  Cold. The coin was frigid as ice in my hand every time I held it. It was half of William’s soul I’d been holding. How delicate and precious it now became to me! My father’s trick box didn’t seem anywhere near safe enough of a hiding place. Here we were, both of us in the house together and the coin just a short distance away. The thought made me feel sick. When William cocked his head at me, I tried hard to block any images of where I’d hidden it.

  “What did you do after you escaped?” I choked out, hoping to distract him from my paranoid thoughts.

  “I ascended the bluffs. At one point, I felt a sharp dagger of limestone stab through my jeans into my thigh, but when I looked down, there was no stain of blood. I didn’t register this as strange; I assumed my brain was in too frantic a state to know what was happening. Someone shouted my name from below, and I made the mistake of looking down—a horrible thing as I was struck with a wave of vertigo. My vision blurred and everything began to spin. I forced myself to focus and climb the rest of the way up to the cliff’s edge. I figured I had a great lead, but didn’t realize how agile they were—how used to this whole terrain their minds and bodies are. Emma, they know every inch of the valley, as if they were created from its very stone.

  “I ran out on the lake drive, bracing myself when I saw a car coming around the curve. It would be too late for him to stop, and I watched in shock as the car approached. It passed right through my body and drove away. The driver hadn’t even noticed me standing there. The realization of what I had become cut into my brain. I remember Marshall telling me half my soul was inside the coin, but still . . . it couldn’t be possible.

  “Five men crawled over the cliff, closing in on where I stood. I turned, helpless in their chase, my knees trembling in defeat. I could give in to them then, knowing I was a mirror of a real human being. It would have been easy to surrender. But then I thought, ‘Never!’ Cathy wouldn’t want me to become one of them.

  “Marcus stepped forward, and I drew my arm back and threw the coin out into the night. ‘Go get it,’ I taunted. How his face changed in that instant! He ordered the others to search for it, remaining to face me as they all scrambled back over the bluffs. For the longest time we stood there without speaking while the sounds of shouts echoed across the valley. I heard Marcus say, ‘You’ll always be part of us now, Bennett.’ I felt the last bit of the fade and replied, ‘Never.’

  “There I was, forever lost in a world of in between; no longer allowed to live, never able to die.”

  His voice trailed off, causing me to raise my eyes to meet the incredible blue that never failed to send a thrill through my body. “The next day in town, I discovered the real horror of my situation—that I was invisible to everyone. That I’d never be heard again, touched again. That no one else but the cult would ever be able to reach me, for the rest of my existence.

  “It made me bitter for many years, and I played pranks on townspeople, destroyed things, jumped into cars to try to escape, but I’m tied to Springvale and can never leave. As soon as the car hits the limits, I bounce out like a rubber ball.

  “One day, I stepped inside the walls of the library and after finding a small collection of Buddhist manuals, began a ritual of study. I began to think of ways to fight whatever spiritual mandates had been set in place—theorizing that if I became strong enough mentally, I could find different ways of leaving town, make myself seen, you know. But all my efforts failed, and I had just about given up hope.” His voice stopped, and suddenly he drew me into his chest and held me for a long embrace.

  I can still remember every detail: the late evening glow of daylight fading into a haze of floating dust and hanging cobwebs, amber hues of mahogany permeating into our skin. The sound of leaves quivered outside the south wall, and a lone mourning dove wailed long and low. It seemed funny to think of at the time, but I could hear a heartbeat inside the warm muscle of his chest and it made me feel happy and complete. The pattern was quick, like he’d been running, then it slowed to a steady hypnotic beat.

  “Whatever I have to do,” I whispered, “to save you, I will. No matter what it takes, I am not going to let them have you.”

  “Emma.” William pulled away from me then, holding me at arm’s length. “You will not risk your life to save mine. Do you hear me? You were brought into this for some reason, who knows why, but it wasn’t to die and that’s for damn sure.”

  “Tell me what I can do, William, because I am not giving up. I won’t leave town without you. I just won’t.”

  He ran his palm along the back of his neck in concentration. “You could learn to protect yourself, using your mind. There’s a man here in town, a big Indian fellow, who knows a lot about using the spirit for protection. I found him one day while wandering around house to house, trying to cure my boredom. He knows when I show up, although we’ve never been able to communicate. He’s kind of a funny guy, has a lot of statues all over the roof of his house and yard. Perhaps you could be a speaker for me. We could explain the situation to him and ask for his help.”

  I nodded and gave a slow smile. First battle won, the next would be getting him to agree to becoming a human again.

  The sun was almost completely gone outside the west-facing attic window. William had already faded a little, and I began to feel panicky inside. It seized me—I wanted to capture him, make him real, forever.

  “Wait here for just a second, I’ll be right back.”

  I left him looking confused, and ran down the narrow attic steps to the hall, rushing into my room for the old sketchbook, half-filled. I grabbed it off the dresser, and then sprinted through the door and up the steps again.

  “I want to draw you,” I said, trying to catch my breath. William looked unsure. “Please? Just go sit over there, on the box again.”

  He did as commanded, positioning himself in a slightly hunched stance, forearms resting against his thighs, with hands hanging down between his legs.

  I held up the pencil to read his angles, and then transferred a few light strokes to the textured page. After that, I fleshed out everything I could, not missing any detail—every wave of his hair, the hard line of his jaw, the slightly bemused lift upon those rose-colored lips, his strong hands with the long, masculine fingers. I was obsessed with the way his shirt draped over his right shoulder, and the simple curve of blue plaid stretching tight against the muscles of his chest. When I was done, I took a long breath and sat back, brushing the hair out of my eyes, suddenly feeling quite tired. That’s when I looked at him for real, without the intricate scrutiny of an artist’s eye. He was breathtaking.

  Someday he would be solid and real, I knew it despite his words of fatality. At night his face would illuminate with lamplight or moonlight, and nothing would make him disappear. I wanted to be the one lying next to him watching the glow on his skin.

  “May I see it?”

  Feigning confidence, I turned the paper canvas to him, wincing at his serious expression as he viewed the work.

  “It’s good, Emma. You took great care in that.”

  We sat there, a whole distance of attic mess and boxes separating our bodies. I saw him in the last stage of fade.

  “Tomorrow,” William whispered, sounding much farther away than the distance between us. I nodded, watching as his skin turned translucent, dark, a jellyfish in a black ocean.

  When he was gone I let out an explosive cry, grabbing the first thing I could find—a Christmas angel—and threw it into the shadows of the attic. Glass splintered against a wall, falling in shards onto an unseen floor. A severed wing slid over to my feet, the dust of crushed ceramic layered over its pure white feathers.

  13: Drive

  I opened the attic door and stepped into the hall only to find Mom ther
e waiting for me.

  “Want to tell me what’s up with you lately?” She stood with arms crossed and brow furrowed into lines.

  “Not really.” I tried to move past her, but she blocked the way.

  “You’ve been out all night, hanging around that Jesse Limon boy. I didn’t raise you to act like that, Emma.”

  “Maybe if we were still in Colorado I wouldn’t have a reason to act this way, but you brought me here without asking.”

  She closed her eyes and let out a sigh. “You haven’t given the place a chance. Now listen, I’ve been speaking to some men from a local church—the Soul Seekers—and they say you need to come in for counseling.”

  It took me a second to regain my ability to breathe. I tried to remain calm. “You’ve . . . you’ve been going to a church?”

  “Yes. One of the men who runs it comes into the bank almost every day. He’s a good man: upright, dedicated, well-respected in town, and anyway I went to a meeting a while back and said I’d join. They’re very nice people.”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  Mom gave me a look. “Yes. I am.”

  “Because I’ve heard the opposite, and I don’t feel comfortable with you going there. They lie about everything. They use people. You don’t know the half of what they do, Mom. Promise me you’ll never go back there again.”

  “As a matter of fact, I’m going tonight. I was going to ask you to come along, but I‘ll wait until you’ve calmed down. We can go tomorrow night.”

  When she looked at me I noticed something strange—the eyes that used to be a bright green were now much paler, almost gray. Worst of all was the way they looked right through me, as if I wasn’t there. I swallowed my shock as she went on speaking. “You know, when I left Springvale I was the same age as you. I was seventeen—young and naive. I thought I knew everything. I thought I’d never come back. I was wrong. My life never made sense until the day I joined the Seekers. They make me feel important.”