“You wouldn’t believe the night I’ve had.”
A growl whirred in his throat. At the corner, a taxi peeled away from the curb.
She gasped, pulled the curtain. “You don’t have to tell me, Brutus. It’s mass transit from now on. No more taxis.”
He adjusted his legs beneath his chest. His eyes half closed, he turned to look at her and purred.
“Is he gone?” Somehow it no longer seemed silly to ask such a thing of Brutus. He’d apparently had an instinct for these things all along. He’d been protecting her somehow.
With that new knowledge, she relaxed and took off her coat. “You must be hungry, poor baby.”
He looked out the window once, then jumped to the floor and followed her to the kitchen. His silky fur rubbed against her pant leg.
“You’re my hero.” She dumped the smelly cat pate from its can into his dish, then headed for the bedroom. Too exhausted to shower, she changed into her pajamas and climbed into bed.
Madelyn snuggled under her covers in the dark and replayed the night’s events in her head. This had been her third – and most personally risky – assignment. She’d been there to support Gwen, but was that all there was to it? Or had this not been the final task?
In the morning, she’d go to the coffee shop. Maybe he’d be there. After all, it would be Sunday. It wasn’t as if he’d be in church.
When Brutus jumped onto her comforter, she sighed and let her eyes drift shut.
Twelve
Sometime during the night, Madelyn’s eyes fluttered open. She couldn’t recall a sound waking her, and wasn’t sure why her nerves tingled with dread. The muted light through her bedroom window provided enough to show her bedside table and lamp and the dresser against the wall, but beyond that, it was dark. Everything appeared to be in place, but the feeling of being watched put her on edge.
She sensed, rather than heard or saw, a movement in the corner, behind her dresser. Its invisibility gave her enough cause for alarm. Clutching the comforter, she waited what seemed like hours until the outline of a deep black shadow materialized. As the shadow deepened and emerged into the room, her muscles felt locked in place. Fear iced her spine.
A movement at the foot of her bed made her gasp until she realized it was Brutus. He’d been lying still, but now he stood and hissed, his back arched, fangs bared.
The shadow figure halted, and Madelyn sensed its uncertainty as it swirled in retreat, then tentatively advanced. The cat let out a long high-pitched growl of warning. As the figure billowed up and doubled in size, it issued a sizzling noise from its center, like a great barbecue pit was firing up, ready to grill some fresh meat. The hissing increased, piercing Madelyn’s ears. Brutus screamed, a miniature king-of-the-jungle attempt at a roar. No one could accuse him of aloofness now. He was a tiny feline warrior, the first line of defense in Madelyn’s soul wars, a force with which the shadow must reckon before gaining access to the prize. Herself.
Madelyn scrambled atop her pillow and crouched against the headboard. She was never been more proud of, or afraid for, her cat. “Be careful, Brutus! Stay back!”
Like a dust devil, the darkness swirled across the floor toward the bed, swallowing the space between, growing larger as it gained more ground. The cat batted at it with a claw-bared paw, screeching and hissing. Madelyn used to curse those bear-like claws, long as scythes and every bit as sharp as he dug into the carpet and sofa. If they got out of this, she’d never threaten to have him de-clawed again.
She clutched a pillow to her chest. “No, Brutus! Come here – please!”
He’d never been good at listening, but this time, his life depended on it. She couldn’t let him risk injury, or worse. As impressive as his feline bravado was, he stood no chance against the shadowy thing. It was the embodiment of pure evil, and would show no mercy. If it were to capture Brutus, maybe it would try to use him as a bargaining chip. Then she’d be forced to give in to save him.
Madelyn crept toward Brutus, still pawing at the air in warning. She’d grab him and make a run for it. To where, she’d decide along the way.
The blackness wavered and heaved a hot breath of warning. The cat reared on his back legs, swiping wildly as it inched toward him, thickening and enlarging as it roiled closer. Brutus, too, appeared to have doubled in size; whether he’d somehow grown or merely puffed out his fur to give that illusion, she couldn’t tell.
She reached for him, and hoped he wouldn’t slice her open in his fury. As she was about to scoop him up, he sprung forward into the center of the dark hole and was swallowed. His enraged screams diminished with each second, as if he were falling into a deep well.
“No!” She tumbled back on the bed to avoid being sucked in as well. Scrambling to her knees, she watched in horror as the darkness appeared to struggle against itself, hissing and twisting in jerks. Brutus must be shredding the thing with its claws the entire way down.
Brutus the Brave. He couldn’t really be gone, but how could she get him back?
From deep within her, a roar issued forth. “You give him back! And leave us alone!”
Its jerking twists calmed as the thing settled, as if her voice gave it renewed focus, made it remember why it was really here. To claim her.
It swirled and swooshed. She could feel it targeting all its energy at her.
But it had no valid claim on her. She’d never agreed to sign over her soul, and wasn’t about to be frightened into it.
She repeated: “Give me Brutus! And leave us alone!” Something wasn’t right, it wasn’t paying attention. Earlier, her fervent professions agitated it, angered it because it eventually had to disappear when she refused to agree. This time, it continued advancing slowly, calmly, as if nothing could stop it.
Over and over, she chanted the words to no effect. Her voice wavered with each recitation. The words had none of the power they held earlier. Sobs escaped her as she thought of Brutus, trapped somewhere beyond her reach, afraid and alone. She’d made such a mess of everything, with no way to mend the damage.
The more she broke down, the closer the darkness advanced. The power of the words waned in tandem with her voice. Her sentences broke down, too, into incohesive phrases that, once divided, couldn’t conquer. The phrases splintered apart further into individual words, then no longer did she speak the words, but thought them.
Tendrils of black mist extended toward her. Her thoughts grew cloudy, darkening with every inch nearer as if she absorbed the darkness, losing herself to it. The whooshing noise insinuated itself into her mind, pulsing insistently. Black emptiness edged the corners of her vision.
She curled against her pillows, focusing on the window. Its light appeared to intensify, but it likely only seemed brighter in contrast to the blackness enveloping her like a womb. If she could crawl to the window, into the light, she might be fortified with its energy enough to crawl through the portal to safety. Even the thought of the effort overwhelmed her, and she burrowed into the pillow.
The window curtain billowed wide, as if trumpeting an arrival. The blackness hesitated. Madelyn felt its alarm as it positioned itself between her and the growing illumination.
In a burst of light, he entered the room, a tall, dark prince in black whose raven hair and brilliant eyes shone with a righteous vengeance.
His deep voice arrested the black shadow. “No! You will not have her.”
It hissed and retreated. He strode to the bed and placed himself between Madelyn and the thick formation of black.
Blinking away the cobwebs in her mind, she lifted her head. He looked majestic, and incredibly handsome as he glanced at her. Their gazes connected for a mere second, but it was enough to revitalize her. She pushed herself up and leaned against the headboard. If only he had a sword, or some sort of weapon.
The bedroom quaked with his booming voice. “Return to whence thou came.”
His words resonated through the room, sound waves vibrating against the walls and bouncing back. Ever
y vibration slammed into the dark figure, diminishing it a little more. It trembled violently, struggling to maintain its hold in this world.
He held out his arm toward it. From his palm, an intense light beamed in its direction, its rays glistening with sparks in every spectrum of brightness.
From within the dark shape, thousands of faraway screams rolled through its black void and tumbled away into the darkness. The light from his palm burst like a supernova and filled the room.
Blinded, Madelyn held the pillow to her eyes to shield them, but even then, the white light penetrated her eyelids in a dazzling blaze. It permeated the air like a palpable shining presence, then faded.
His hand was warm on her head. Like a healing touch, her mind finally cleared.
His deep voice was gentle as a caress. “Madelyn.” Its timbre stroked her frazzled nerves to calm.
She lifted her head slowly, afraid to believe the danger had passed. Fearing her voice would revive its focus on her, she whispered, “Is it gone?”
He sat on the bed, his warm hands on her knees. “Yes. You are safe.”
She shivered, still clutching her pillow. “What was that noise?” The screams still echoed faintly in her head.
He looked out the window with a sigh. His voice held sadness and compassion. “The sound of all the souls in anguish for having given up their most prize possession.” His dark eyes sparkled as he looked at her. “Once lost, a soul can never be regained.”
She pulled herself up to face him. “You saved me.” She grasped his coat and plunged her head into his chest, feeling like she could never be close enough to him. He enfolded her in his arms and held her until her shivers subsided. It seemed so natural for him to be in her room in the middle of the night, as if he belonged there. As if this was the moment her life had been building toward all along.
She leaned away to look at him, her grip tight to keep him there. “Why?”
At close range, he was even more perfect than usual. A faint glowing aura softened his features, softened the darkness of him. His beauty caused her to sigh, trying to take it all in.
Maybe hell wouldn’t be so bad after all.
He cradled her in his arms. “Why what?”
“Why are you here? Why was that thing here?” Too many things were beyond her understanding. But maybe they were meant to be.
His patience with her ignorance was abundant. He smoothed her hair. “It’s All Souls Day. Many souls freely wander between heaven and earth tonight.”
She searched his beautiful face. “Heaven? That darkness wasn’t from heaven. And I thought you weren’t either…”
He took her hands in his and held them close to his lips, curling into a smile. “I never said that.”
“But those tests… the initial S…” And his incredible warmth, she wanted to add. No other man had felt so warm, or right.
“Stands for Seth.” If she’d insulted him, he didn’t show it. His tone lightened as he added, “Or perhaps Savior. The other bidder was, in fact, one of Satan’s minions. Lucky for you I outbid him at the final second. Stole his thunder, you might say.” He clicked his tongue. “Six hundred sixty six – he couldn’t be more original than that. But he forgot to include numbers on the other side of the decimal, so all I had to do was add a few more pennies.”
No wonder the numbers had spooked her.
The danger she had put herself in suddenly hit her. “The shadowy thing was the other bidder? The black stalker that tried to kill me tonight?” Why hadn’t that occurred to her?
Seth’s expression softened. “He would never kill you. Then your soul would be lost to him forever.”
Though clear, her brain wasn’t yet functional. Maybe due to the late hour.
She rubbed an eye. Hopefully she didn’t yet resemble the creature that peered back at her in the mirror every morning. “Why is my soul suddenly everyone’s prize possession?”
He squeezed her hand. “Most people don’t make their souls available at auction.”
She ducked her head, embarrassed. “Oh. That.”
He lifted her chin with his fingers. “After your show of strength, I don’t think you’ll have to worry about being stalked any longer.”
His soft lips looked so inviting, she couldn’t stop staring at them, wondering what they would feel like against hers. “If I ever put anything up for sale on uBuy again, it will be something tangible. Something I can photograph.” Something whose description wouldn’t defy words.
The image of her cat hurling itself into the void haunted her. “What about Brutus?” She clutched his jacket, desperate for him to tell her he’d be fine.
His brows furrowed. “Brutus loves you very much.”
Tears stung at her eyes. “I’m never going to see him again.”
“Never say never. Not where love is concerned.” He glowed softly in the darkness, like her personal night light. So if he was a good guy, then he must be...
Awe made her stammer. “So you’re an angel?” In that case, heaven was definitely preferable to hell.
His smile certainly was angelic. “Labels are so tacky.”
“Then what are you doing here?” The worst case scenario frightened her. “Isn’t it over? Oh please, no more tests. I promise I’ll never try to auction my soul, or any other organ, physical or spiritual…”
He pressed a finger to her lips. “I want you to know your real worth.” He lifted her hands to his lips and kissed them. “You have a rare and beautiful soul. Luminous with possibility. Never surrender it again. Not for anything.”
“You’re giving it back?” If only he’d hold it for a little while longer. Stay with her a little while longer. An undeniable goodbye hovered heavily in the air; she couldn’t bear to face it.
“It’s always been yours. As is the power to fulfill your destiny.” His dark eyes gleamed as if they held constellations of stars deep within.
He leaned closer and brushed the hair from her forehead. “The possibilities are endless. Always remember that.”
He looked at her with such depth of feeling, it was as if they’d known each other forever. Had held each other like this countless times before, and would countless times to come.
When his lips touched hers, every cell within her bubbled with energy. She felt the same intense light burst through her body like a shooting star, making her weightless. Bright orbs floated all around. Outside this wondrous sphere an insistent noise pulsed like a growing heartbeat, insinuated itself into her consciousness, and grew in grating intensity.
She reached out to wave it away. Her hand connected with the cold vibrating plastic. Her fingers knew by instinct what to do.
She sat up in bed and glanced around. The morning had dawned brighter than it had in weeks. Sunshine filled her bedroom, giving everything a kind of sheen.
On her night stand, a sprig of lavender sat atop a sheet of sketch paper with the note: Your mom said to tell you: art can also be sold online. Put your soul into it. S.
Madelyn lifted the lavender to her cheek and closed her eyes. Its scent comforted her, as if her mom were tucking her comforter tightly around her.
She sprung out of her bed. “I have work to do.” Catching a whiff of herself, she said, “Not before a shower. I can’t believe he kissed me when I smell so awful.”
The memory of his kiss lingered like a glowing orb and made her linger in the doorway. “He kissed me. It was heavenly.”
So what if she was corny. Joy filled her. Giggling, she stepped into the bathroom.
After her shower, she put on her robe and toweled her hair. “Did I ever need that. I feel like a new person.”
The truth hit her: her feelings had returned with an intense vigor that wasn’t there before.
“I am no longer soulless.” Her spirit soared with the realization. She danced across the floor and sang, “I’ve got soul, so much soul.”
She stretched, luxuriating in her renewed freedom. Her soul was her own, as was her will. She could do
whatever she liked.
She pushed the curtains wide to let the sunshine in. “What a gorgeous day.” Today, the view from inside would have to suffice. She had work to do.
When she reached the kitchen, Brutus’ food dish on the floor turned her joy to sadness. “My baby.” For five years, he’d been an integral part of her life. How important, she could never have known. A tear streaked her cheek as she remembered his fearless battle to protect her.
She couldn’t bring herself to put them away. To acknowledge the loss as final. If nothing else, she’d keep his things to memorialize his bravery.
Taking a deep breath, she forcibly discarded her gloom. Ideas had been taking shape in her mind, ideas that demanded to be rendered in charcoal. Pencil in hand, she complied with that demand for hours on end. It was noon before she realized she hadn’t changed from her robe, hadn’t eaten, hadn’t even had a cup of coffee. The sketches strewn across her dining room table testified to her feverish morning.
Pride welled within her as she reviewed the sketches. “Not bad.”
Setting the coffee maker, she hurried to her closet, flung off her robe and threw on a sweatshirt and jeans. In the kitchen, she slathered together a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, then filled a thermal cup with coffee to keep her going through the afternoon. The fever was still strong; she didn’t want to lose momentum by stopping for a second longer than necessary.
The images practically rendered themselves. Many she recalled from last night’s planetarium-show display of her artwork across the night sky.
When darkness edged the room, her arms ached with the relentless effort, but so much more awaited her.
After stopping just long enough to refuel her body with a reheated slice of pizza, she was back at the sketch pad. Time slipped away as if in a dream. When she checked the clock, it was past midnight.
Exhilarated but tired, she fell into bed, thankful she didn’t have to set the alarm. Tomorrow, she and Gwen had the day off to go to the art museum.
“Good night, Seth,” she whispered with a smile as sleep overtook her.
Soul for Sale Page 6