To Catch a Stolen Soul

by R. L. Naquin

  “Thank you.”

  She stopped again. “Where did you trade your truck? I just realized that shape on top of your food truck is familiar. You repainted it. That was a teapot before, wasn’t it?”

  I nodded. “Yes.”

  Her smile melted away, and her eyes were troubled. “Then you have Anna’s truck.”

  “I believe so, yes.” I paused to give her a chance to say something, but she continued chopping. My voice was soft, almost a whisper. “Were you friends?”

  Sandra’s hand shook. “Yes. She was funny and sweet and generous. She was famous for those scones of hers, but she gave me the recipe anyway. Didn’t even hesitate.” She scooped the walnuts into her hand and dropped them in a second bowl of brownie batter. “I’ve thought about making some in her honor. Can’t bring myself to do it. Not yet, anyway.”

  I peeled another egg in silence, managing to get the whole thing off in one go. “I’m really sorry she’s gone. I would have liked to have met her.”

  “Oh, she would have loved you. That genie costume of yours would have made her laugh so hard. She laughed a lot.” I’d worried that Sandra might get emotional talking about her friend, but she didn’t look sad. She smiled as she spoke. Anna must have been special.

  I dropped another naked egg into the bowl with its buddies. “If you don’t mind telling me, what exactly happened to her? If it bothers you to talk about it, I understand.”

  She stopped stirring and turned to face me. “Nobody really knows what happened. I talked to her that day after we all closed up. Told her to have a good night. The next morning when we came back in, her truck was still here.” She picked up the bowl of batter and cradled it in her arm as she stirred, as if she needed a little extra support. “She never came back. Weeks later...” She paused, then let out a shaky sigh. “Weeks later, they found her body across the street.”

  “What, like, in that alley the homeless people keep disappearing into?”

  She nodded. “Yeah. There’s a shelter a few blocks that way. They use the alley to come and go.”

  I touched her sleeve. “How did...how did she die?”

  Sandra paused, her expression sad. “She’d been strangled with her own dish towel. They left her like that with it still wrapped around her neck.”

  * * *

  I may have used up the luck in my gargoyle snot all at once the moment I decided to pull over and pick up Ash. She managed the lunch rush without a hitch. I danced around in my jingling genie costume and took the orders and the money outside the truck while she did all the hard work inside, putting together grilled sandwiches with a variety of cheeses and single-serving bags of chips.

  While I’d been hunting for clues and plying Sandra with questions, Ash had found her rhythm in the kitchen. The girl was a natural.

  By the end of the lunch rush, we had enough money to continue feeding ourselves for the week. If things kept going like they were, we might be able to upgrade to a nicer motel.

  We were out of cheese and didn’t have long before the bread ran out, too, so I made the decision: no dinner shift for us. We’d start again in the morning with toast. No harm in working only two meals. All we needed for money was to keep ourselves going. Solving the murders was the goal, not creating a successful business.

  It wasn’t unusual anyway. Before lunch, the Baconator disappeared, and Adam’s Ribs and Sausage Express took its place. When I asked Sandra about it later, she told me there were roughly fifteen trucks in the community that came and went throughout the shifts and the days of the week.

  That meant a lot of people to interview. This could take longer than I’d thought. Except I didn’t have longer. I had to find that stone.

  We made one more trip to the grocery store, unloaded it into the truck, then I made sure Ash was settled and comfortable in the motel. “Do you need anything while I’m gone?”

  She’d already kicked her boots off and lay on the bed with the television remote, ankles crossed. “I’m exhausted. But I’m good. You go play private eye or whatever you’re gong to do. I’m staying right here.” As she talked, she rubbed her fingers absently over the gauze on her wrist.

  I remembered my second puberty, when my jewel came in. It itched like a hyena with mange. “There’s some coconut oil in the bathroom. Put it on your wrist. It’ll keep it from itching and help the gem grow in clean.”

  She nodded. “’Kay. Thanks.”

  I headed toward the door. “If you need me for anything, call.”

  “Yep.” Her face took on a serious expression. “If you need anything, you call me. Okay?”

  I nodded. “’Kay.”

  “Be careful out there, Kam.”

  I flashed her a grin. “I will. Promise.”

  * * *

  Driving a food truck around town was not what I would consider discreet. So I had to walk it. It was only half a mile. I didn’t mind. The sun had dipped below the horizon, leaving me to travel in dusky twilight.

  I’d dressed to blend into the shadows—black jeans, black tee and a black leather jacket and boots. The boots and the jacket both squeaked a little when I walked, but the jacket smelled good and the boots were cute. Cute boots were everything.

  When I reached the café, I checked out the lot across the street. A couple of trucks were still there, though I couldn’t make out which ones in the dim light. They didn’t appear to be open for business.

  My side of the street wasn’t as busy as I would have expected. I knew the café wasn’t doing great business, but I would have expected the evening pie-and-coffee crowd to be in there at least. From what I could tell, there was only one occupied table.

  Too bad. Ash and I would have to go in sometime and try them out. Looked like they could definitely use the business.

  Traffic was still fairly heavy, and cars passed constantly. I pulled out my phone and pressed it to my ear in an attempt to look casual. I didn’t expect to find much in the alley, but I also didn’t want anyone to see me go in there. What was the use of picking out a stealthy outfit if I wasn’t going to act like I was in stealth mode?

  A traffic light turned red at the corner and held the cars back for a few seconds. I ducked around the corner and made my way down the alley.

  I wrinkled my nose and held my breath. The alley stank. Not like my truck had stunk when there was a months-old dead body in it. It was more of an ordinary, behind-a-restaurant stink. The air was heavy with the stench of rotten eggs, rancid meat and old fish. On second thought, it wasn’t much different from my truck after all.

  At the Dumpster, I flashed the light of my phone at the bags of trash stacked inside and outside the metal container, then scanned the ground around me and the wall of the bank across from the Dumpster. The off-white paint was chipped in places, as if the garbage truck had scraped it a few times. Something brown spattered across one section. It could have been anything—leftover chili, dog crap, blood. I wasn’t about to go all Sherlock Holmes and take a sample. I didn’t have any equipment—or knowledge—to analyze it with.

  I reached under my shirt and pulled out the stone I kept hidden from nosy eyes. The gold chain held a golden scarab beetle with the dark soul stone embedded in its back. This gorgeous design was the reason I was sleeping in questionable motels and taking shitty jobs like pirate wench waitress. I’d spent everything I had on the setting. When I’d first received the stone, it had been wrapped in wire and hanging from a cheap chain. I figured, if this was going to be my life’s work, at least for the foreseeable future, I deserved to have something pretty.

  I’d tried to transform it with magic, but the stone wouldn’t allow it. So, I blew all my money on jewelry. For work.

  It was worth every penny.

  I ran my thumb over the stone and dropped it on top of my shirt. It didn’t glow or vibrate or sparkle. Th
ere was nothing in the area that caused it interest, and it had been a while since my last chaser assignment, so it was devoid of souls. But now that it was out in the open, I hoped it would lead me to something I could use to find its missing brother. In the presence of another soul stone, it should, in theory, light up with sparks across the surface—especially if there were souls locked inside the other stone.

  The farther I went down the alley, the filthier it became. I couldn’t tell what other businesses I passed, but I suspected most of them were abandoned. No one had come to collect the garbage past the café in some time. Bags and boxes were piled on each side of the path. I walked slowly, listening with every step for someone following.

  The sky grew darker, and my phone grew brighter, lighting up my surroundings a little at a time, like pieces to a puzzle.

  A squeak grew from the darkness ahead, louder each time I heard it. After a moment, a figure appeared, and I held up my phone so I could see.

  An older woman in several layers of clothing blinked up at me. Her arthritic hands were wrapped around the handle of a shopping cart overflowing with a variety of items. She smiled. “Oh, hello.”

  I smiled back. “Hi. It’s pretty dark back here. Aren’t you afraid someone will attack you?”

  She chuckled. “I don’t have anything anyone wants, honey. No one bothers me.”

  “Where are you going?” Regardless of whether she thought she was safe or not, I felt like I should probably walk her to her destination. If I barely felt safe, she was probably vulnerable to all sorts of terrible things.

  She waved her hand in the direction I’d come from. “To the café. Merle usually has scraps to give out if you’re early enough.”

  “That’s very nice of him.” I was impressed that a guy with so few customers could afford to be so generous.

  She shrugged. “He gives us the food that’s about to go bad.”

  Well, that explained it. Still, it was nice of him. “I’m Kam.”

  “I’m very pleased to meet you, Miss Kam. I’m Bonnie.”

  “Well, Bonnie, I don’t have much, but I do run a food truck across the street. It’s just toast, but you come by anytime and I’ll make you some breakfast.”

  She patted my hand, and I cringed a little, worried that the contact would hurt her swollen knuckles. “You’re a sweet girl, Kam. I may take you up on that.” She pushed her cart a few feet and stopped. “You be careful out here. It’s not safe, you know.” She and her squeaky cart wobbled off into the dark.

  I continued down the alley, which narrowed the farther I went. The buildings were the same distance apart, but the garbage continued to spill from both sides. I aimed my light back and forth, wondering what I could possibly hope to find when the murder was months old, I wasn’t sure where they’d found Anna’s body, and when it was so dark I couldn’t see more than a few feet ahead of me.

  “This is stupid.” I considered continuing out the other side and checking out the shelter. Bonnie had to have come from there.

  The stone on my chest vibrated, and tiny sparks shot across its surface. I spun around, trying to get a bearing on what was causing my stone to react. Behind me, in the direction of the café, a woman moaned.

  “Bonnie!” I took off after her at a sprint.

  At that pace, it didn’t take long to recover the ground I’d inched over. Ahead, Bonnie and her cart stood in the light of the café’s open doorway. She spotted me coming toward her and smiled, giving me a small wave.

  Another moan came from behind me. Not Bonnie. I’d passed whoever was in trouble. I backtracked, spreading the light of my phone as I went. As suddenly as my stone had come to life, it went quiet.

  Several yards from the café’s Dumpster, I spotted what I’d first taken to be a bag of garbage was actually a human form. I rushed to the woman’s side. “You’re all right,” I said, holding my light close. “I’m here.”

  “Kam.” The woman’s voice was a whisper in the darkness. A single, wheezing breath erupted from her chest, and she didn’t move.

  “No, no, no.” Two pointed ears peaked out from her dark hair. I felt for a pulse but found only a slick, sticky coating of blood that oozed from the side of her neck.

  Sandra was dead. And I’d been right there when it had happened, oblivious. A sob caught in my throat. Art shouldn’t have trusted me to do this. I had no idea what I was doing, and Sandra had paid the price.

  Some gumshoe I turned out to be.

  Chapter Nine

  When I called Truman, he said he and his team would be right there. I told him to hurry.

  I didn’t want to be alone in that dark alley with the body of a woman I’d cooked with a few hours earlier. Not because I was afraid of whoever had done it—I would have liked very much for the bastard to come after me next. I didn’t want to be alone because I felt terrible. I had an enormous, unprofessional sob lodged deep in my chest, and if somebody didn’t get here quickly to help shift me into business mode, the personal aspects of the whole thing might unravel me.

  Unfortunately, Truman wasn’t the first to arrive. Within two minutes of my phone call, Lucas came tearing down the alley. “What the hell is going on here?” He skidded to a halt when he saw me standing there, shining my phone at the sky like a beacon. “You. Of course.” He threw one hand in the air.

  “Hey, Luke. Do you come here often?” I braced myself for more of his bullying. Hot or not, he wasn’t going to mess with me tonight. I might have sounded all right, but inside, I most certainly was not. If he pushed too hard, my false bravado wouldn’t hold up, and I’d probably have to kick his ass.

  “When I said you should stay with your truck and not wander into trouble, what made you think a walk down a dark alley was what I meant?” He came closer, stepping into the circle of my light. His gaze flicked to my soul stone, and his eyes widened. He looked away, and his voice softened. “And it’s Lucas, not Luke.”

  I shoved the stone back under my shirt. “I appreciate your concern, but I can handle myself.”

  “It wasn’t you I was worried about. At least not until I found you here.” He whipped his head around, squinting into dark corners. “I was trying to find Sandra. I came out of my truck and saw hers was still there. But she wasn’t inside. After the thing with Anna, it made me nervous.” He shifted feet and looked past me, obviously torn between continuing his search and staying with the ditzy toast genie who had a death wish. “So, you haven’t seen her?”

  I swallowed hard. “Luke. Lucas. I’m so sorry. I found her too late.” I swiveled and shined my light on Sandra’s body. “I’m waiting for the OGREs to arrive.”

  A breath left his chest in a loud chuff, as if someone had punched him in the stomach. He knelt next to her and felt her wrist for a pulse—smarter than my method, since I could still feel the stickiness of dried blood on my fingertips. “I should have paid more attention. I should have kept my window open so I could see her truck. Why does this keep happening?”

  He looked genuinely upset, but I had to take a step back and be impartial. I didn’t want this beautiful man to be a murderer, but it was possible. He could be a hell of an actor. After all, he hadn’t been particularly nice to me.

  I glanced over my shoulder toward the street. Then again, it could’ve been Bonnie. She seemed nice. Her hands didn’t look very capable of holding a knife tightly enough to cut through an artery, and she looked too frail to take down a woman of Sandra’s height and build.

  But in this world, everyone’s appearance was suspect.

  Lucas stood and brushed off the knees of his jeans. “What were you doing out here?”

  I didn’t care for the way he was eyeing me. “That’s really not your business.” He’d seen my soul stone. I may have been working undercover, but the ruse was up with him. I wasn’t about to give him details, but let him
wonder if I was a reaper or a chaser. And let him wonder why exactly I was there.

  “Did you take her soul?” He took a step toward me and crossed his arms over his chest in a pose that felt more on the offense than the defense, though the quiver in his voice betrayed his nerves.

  “Her soul departed peacefully on its own. And that’s more information than you need.” If he wanted to think I was a reaper, that was fine. Hidden folks tended to be afraid of reapers. As a soul chaser, I had the same equipment as a reaper, but I dealt in rogue souls on the loose. Reapers dealt with souls of those who were either about to die or had died a moment earlier. They were kind of the boogeymen of the Hidden world.

  There was a world of difference between a ghost hunter like me and someone who’d come to take a person’s soul. Oddly, reapers were the ones with full-time jobs and benefits. They were mostly the good guys. We chasers were not well respected among reapers. We were private contractors, like bounty hunters or soldiers for hire. Chasers were considered uncouth and lacking in loyalty. It wasn’t true—at least not for me—but the animosity between reapers and chasers went back centuries. None of that was common knowledge, though, and I wasn’t above using the scary reaper stories to my advantage.

  I obviously wasn’t going to get into this guy’s pants anytime soon, so screw it. Let him think I was the boogeywoman.

  Truman saved me from any further conversation with Lucas. The OGREs drove into the alley with their van, and the three of them hopped out. The headlights lit up the grisly scene in far more detail than I wanted.

  Joan carried a body bag over one arm. She grimaced at me. “You okay?”

  I nodded. “Thanks for getting here so fast.”

  Truman patted me on the shoulder. “You said on the phone she was still alive when you found her.”

  “Just barely. She recognized me and said my name. Then she was gone.”

  Bubba helped Joan lay out the bag. “At least she didn’t die alone.” He tipped his head at Lucas. “Hey.”