‘Yes. For a time. Enough to do what must be done.’ His expression is sad and resigned.
I nod, trying not to think about what he’s implying, though it’s obvious he doesn’t think he’s coming back from this. Subconsciously, I refuse to accept it and it stiffens my resolve.
But he is already retreating, moving swiftly. ‘Hunter, protect the Soul Guardian. Protect my daughter.’
Ben nods and his arms automatically tighten around me. ‘I will, Sir.’
‘Quickly now. Go.’
And before I can say goodbye, the flames leap higher still, forming a living, writhing wall between myself and my dad; the incredible heat causing me to throw up my arms before me protectively. There is a loud roar and crackle, and the hairs on my arms are burnt by fierce sensation, as if they’ve been scorched by the infernal flame, before all is silent and still.
Seconds tick over.
As I lower my arms in the next instance, the study is bathed again in darkness.
It’s over. My father is gone. He has retreated behind the veil once more and is lost to me.
Chapter Thirteen
‘Are you okay?’
I shake my head as Ben turns me around to face him. His face is once again in shadow but I can see the clarity of his fine green eyes.
Lying to him would be pointless and exhausting. I’m shattered, and I know that keeping up any show of pretense would sap the last of my strength.
‘So, that was your father,’ Ben says. His voice holds a note of curiosity and wonder. ‘He’s legendary, you know?’
I sniff, feeling slightly jealous at his obvious interest in my dad.
‘Why? Because he disappeared?’ I ask.
There’s a low rumble and I realize that Ben’s laughing at how naïve I am, it’s making his chest quiver. ‘No. It’s because your dad is the best there is; the best in the business.’
My heart sinks a little more at his reply as I extricate myself from his arms.
‘No wonder you were so disappointed to find out that I was his daughter. I heard you and your mom talking about me. Not intentionally. I didn’t mean to.’ I find myself unwittingly apologizing. ‘Look, I’m sorry I wasn’t what you were expecting; not anything like the legend. Just think of me as sort of a stand-in until my father makes it back.’
There’s surprise written all over Ben’s face as he looks at me. ‘No, Evee, you’ve got it all wrong. I was angry, perhaps. Worried for your sake, yes. But not disappointed.’
Something in the way he expresses himself makes me believe him. It’s his intensity. His seriousness. ‘This is a bloody business. Hunting. Guarding souls. Fighting evil. It’s not something I would have chosen for myself and it’s certainly not something I’d choose for my kids – that’s if I have kids – but we don’t get a choice in it at all.
‘If you get the draw in the gene lottery, that’s it,’ he explains, his brows drawn together in a frown.
‘So you feel sorry for me?’ I deliberately misunderstand him, seeking some expression of how he really feels about me. About us.
‘Yes … No … Forget it,’ he says, walking away angrily down the corridor.
I call after him, ‘Well, at least you’re trained. I’ll probably end up getting myself killed.’
He stops and turns around, looking me straight in the eye.
‘Not if I can help it.’
Oh God. He thinks I’m a charity case. ‘That’s because you’re my protector. You’ve already said that.’
I’m no longer crying. Instead, I’m working myself into a temper.
He’s looking at me, eyes narrowed. In the dim light, I can still see his expression – he either thinks I’m a lunatic or all this is my fault somehow.
‘I had plans, you know?’ he blurts out. ‘I wasn’t going to commit to the family business forever.’
I have no idea what he’s talking about but I don’t walk away either.
‘So what were you going to do? Take a Gap Year? Kill the Headless Horseman? Go to Harvard?’ I taunt. I feel like we’re talking at cross-purposes.
‘Something like that. Something that didn’t have you in it.’
I’m hurt. I feel like a whipped puppy. It’s exhausting.
But Ben continues speaking, unaware of my pain, ‘It’s complicated. I didn’t plan on someone like you being the Soul Guardian. It would be far easier working with your father.’
‘Because he’s a legend,’ I mutter sarcastically.
‘Because he’s trained,’ Ben retorts, throwing his hands in the air. ‘And because he’s a guy.’
My face flames red. ‘That’s so sexist.’
‘I can’t believe you think that. You’re deliberately misunderstanding me.’ He sounds stressed. ‘Look, I can cope with the Soul Guardian being your father, or a guy, or another girl, just not you.’
‘Oh? And what’s wrong with me, Ben?’ I’m almost shouting now, and I briefly wonder how it is that my mom can sleep through all this commotion.
‘You’re too distracting,’ he says, firmly. ‘I can’t protect you if I’m watching you all the time.’
‘What are you talking about? That doesn’t make any sense!’ I exclaim, somewhat distressed. ‘You’re like my Watcher!’
‘You just don’t get it!’ he shouts, sounding frustrated and angry. He looks like he’d like to punch his fist through the wall, which would really make my mother totally thrilled. Instead, he runs his hand through his hair, irritated, confused, the lot. ‘I’m too aware of you!’
Then, turning abruptly on his heel, he moves so quickly, he’s out the front door before I can process his words. When I finally do, my mouth is open on a perfect “O” and I slump against the wall, my legs turning to jelly.
And I get it now. I’m too distracting. He’s too aware of me.
And it’s a good thing. A very good thing.
*
For the rest of the day, I feel completely out of it. It’s like I’m on another planet or drifting through the stratosphere. One minute I’m in Modern History and when I next look up I’m in Ms. Young’s English class, but I don’t remember how I got to school in the first place, what I had for breakfast or lunch, or even whether I’ve spoken to Taylor today. On the page in front of me, I’ve taken down notes, but I don’t even recall anything that any of the teachers have said. In fact, I’m still staring blankly at my open folder when Ms. Young places a wad of typed sheets on top.
‘Well done, Evelyn,’ she says. That’s high praise for Ms. Young.
I give a start as I look down, finally focusing.
It’s my English essay on the question: “Ultimately, it is the representation of intense human relationships in Wuthering Heights that captivates readers. Explore the representation of ONE intense human relationship, evaluating its significance in the novel as a whole.”
There’s an “A++” circled in red pen on the top right corner of the paper. I can’t believe it. Ms. Young never gives out grades above an “A”.
I remember working on the essay and being distracted. I suppose that’s what they’d call ironic. At the time, all I could think about was Ben; so I guess the grade can be credited to my intense human relationship with my Hunter-Protector. Well, that’s how I’m beginning to think of him.
Right now, I’m feeling rather complacent. In a haze of self-satisfaction, I can see Taylor looking slightly uncomfortable, which means she didn’t do too well. I’m certain to hear all about it later – how her choices were limited to watching college football with her dad who’s a coach, doing her English homework, or taking selfies to share on Instagram. I’m sure she was totally torn.
From behind me, I hear a loud groan. Ms. Young responds by saying, ‘Malik, if you want to do well, you must answer the question. How many times do I have to repeat myself?’
She stalks back up the aisle to the front of the classroom, having distributed the rest of the graded essays. There’s more than one guy in the class ogling her from behind.
‘What if you don’t understand the question?’ Francis Preston asks.
‘If you don’t understand the question then you haven’t been paying attention in class,’ Ms. Young says, looking pointedly at Francis. ‘Taylor, please read out the question…’
But I’m no longer paying attention.
Because, all of a sudden, I know how to unlock Ichabod’s book.
Chapter Fourteen
After cheerleading practice, I make a dash for the bus that normally takes me home.
I expected Dr. Martin-Crane to disapprove of me continuing cheerleading but, to my surprise, she thinks it’s a great idea. She was part of the teen generation of Joss Whedon and so cheerleading gets the nod of approval. But I’ve been warned that I’m not permitted to date vampires, especially hot ones. I guess she’s heard about the quiz-iPhone incident from Principal Shore.
As I see the bus prepare to depart, I put on a burst of speed. There are thunderous footsteps behind me as someone quickens their pace to match mine. I throw a glance over my shoulder, more cautious than I’ve ever been, just as my name is called out.
‘Evee.’
I slow to find Ben next to me, as if he’s been waiting for me to appear for a while. But, of course, where else would he be? Like he said, he’s my protector.
‘We need to talk … About last night–’ he tells me.
I ignore his words, too buoyed from my discovery, and blurt out, ‘I know how to unlock Ichabod’s book.’
He’s taken aback. He raises his brows and his eyes are very green when they meet mine.
Later, I could kick myself because I should have let him say what he wanted to say but right now I’m on a roll. ‘It’s like Dad said, I wasn’t asking the right questions. I wasn’t asking for help.’
No reaction.
‘Ben, you know the book is warded. Your mother’s coven, the ones whom Ichabod sought help from, were able to … give it memories … and hide truths within it. They passed the book to their children to be watched over and kept from falling into the wrong hands. But something must have happened because the memory of how to unlock the book was lost or concealed from them.’ I so desperately want to convince him. Ben’s impassive gaze trails over my face, taking in the smattering of freckles across my nose and cheeks, and the unruly, coppery hair coming loose from its clasp, but at least he doesn’t reject my explanation out of hand. ‘I don’t know how it works exactly but somehow I know I’m right. It makes sense, doesn’t it?’
I feel as if my throat is parched and I swallow hard. If he doesn’t believe me, I’ll be devastated.
Finally, he says calmly. ‘Where’s the book now? Same place where you hid it last night?’
I nod in response.
His face softens and he gives a half-smile. ‘Well, there’s only one way to find out if you’re right, now isn’t there?’
*
Mom is still at work, she won’t be home for hours yet due to some business meeting rescheduled late tonight, and so there’s no one home when we arrive. Pulling into the driveway in Ben’s Subaru Blue WRX, we have the whole place to ourselves. It’s kind of weird, really – Ben’s entire focus on the drive over has been his car. He intends to drive up to Deals Gap, Tennessee next year to race the road called “Tail of the Dragon” because of all the twists and turns. I’m regretting ever telling him about my discovery. I should have paid greater attention and not interrupted him earlier because Taylor once told me that when a guy wants to talk about a relationship, a girl has to seize the opportunity as it may never come again. Most guys aren’t big on talking about relationships, or their feelings, or anything other than cars and sports. Right about now, I’m kicking myself mentally.
But despite all the unresolved issues between us, Ben looks relaxed, as if he’s enjoying himself. And maybe he is – he’s now off on another of his quests – though, in reality, it’s my quest too.
We enter through the back door and pass through the kitchen where there’s a half-eaten bowl of soggy cornflakes on the counter and an empty juice glass. So that’s what I had for breakfast.
I follow Ben down the corridor and into Dad’s study, feeling my stomach sink a little. The room feels empty, like something’s missing, despite the crammed bookshelves. Maybe it’s because of the crammed bookshelves. The books are stacked from floor to ceiling, stacked on the floor and on his desk. It’s sad that no one has made use of them, no one has opened them up or read them since Dad disappeared.
Numbly, I move further into the room and head for the nearest set of shelves holding leather-bound volumes of Blackstone’s Commentaries and large atlases and cartographies. To Ben’s credit, he doesn’t mock me for what otherwise might have been a good idea, as Ichabod’s book is carelessly wedged in amongst them and the title is upside down.
I’m slightly apprehensive about touching it again. Warily, I reach out and, even sooner than my fingers wrap around its spine, I feel faint currents of mystical energy shifting within the book.
As I suck in a sharp breath, Ben asks, ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Touch it and tell me what you feel,’ I say, holding it out to him.
His perfectly curved brows contract into a frown but he does as I ask, taking the book from my outstretched hand. He doesn’t seem bothered by it as he looks at me inquiringly.
I don’t know why I’m so abnormally sensitive to it but maybe that’s what it means to be the Soul Guardian.
‘I can feel every person who has ever attempted to use this book. It’s like they’ve left something of themselves behind,’ I offer by way of explanation, taking the book back from him and carrying it out the back to the family room where the last of the sunlight is spilling through the French doors, flooding the room with light. The light makes me feel slightly better.
‘Like a chemical residue?’ Ben asks intrigued, eyeing the book curiously.
I shrug and place the book on the coffee table, opening it to the middle pages. The elaborate pentagram inscribed in black ink feels like it’s staring up at us.
He gives me a considering look, his green eyes piercing. ‘Must be kind of weird.’
Weird doesn’t even begin to describe it. I give a small shudder in reaction to the eerie feeling that, once again, I’m being watched. But I’ve got something to prove, so I swallow down my anxiety and concentrate on the symbol in front of me.
‘Well, here goes,’ I mutter, feeling like I’m about to perform a séance with a possessed Ouija Board. I open my mouth to voice a question but hesitate. Turning to Ben, I ask in confusion, ‘What should I say? I think we’re offered answers … but only those that explicitly answer the question we ask and no other. We’re offered some part of what we know.’
Encouragingly, Ben touches my shoulder. ‘Then ask it what you need to know.’
The warmth of his touch is reassuring. I sigh deeply and, with a nod, address Ichabod’s book.
‘I am the Soul Guardian. Enemy of that which would steal the souls of the innocent,’ I say reluctantly. ‘How can I free the souls that are trapped beyond life and send the Headless Horseman back to his own realm?’
I pause, expectantly.
At first nothing happens. Gulping, I feel the flush of embarrassment stain my throat and cheeks.
And then, sluggishly, the pentagram’s black ink runs.
Ben and I exchange a look. His hand is no longer providing a simple comfort but now his arm lies across my shoulders, drawing me nearer, our heads bowed together in the manner of conspirators. I feel like we’re part of the same team and that I’ve finally done something right.
The swirling ink moves like a primordial marine creature roused from eons of deep slumber, and the strengthening currents of energy shift and churn. I watch the pentagram symbol transform on the pages, excitement and fascination sweeping through me
– and I know, instinctively, a thrilling enchantment equal to my own is working its way through Ben. He’s studying the book with a rapt expression like an alchemist who has discovered the secret to the philosopher’s stone; discovered how to change lead into gold; discovered immortality.
We’re both transfixed by the enspelled and warded relic. Swiftly, the pages flutter and shuffle like a pack of conjuror’s cards before our eyes. And, once again, I get the feeling it has a will of its own. There’s so much power in it that, briefly, it makes me queasy. It’s dizzying and disorienting, but I can’t look away. I feel compelled to watch it, in the same way I know it watches me.
Finally coming to a rest at the first spotted, yellowing leaf of Ichabod’s precious book, more arcane symbols and mystic images appear, only to slide and vanish, ghostlike.
And then, fluid, aged cursive writing begins to fill up several of the front pages as if penned by an invisible hand. When the writing finishes with a flourish and the currents of psychic, mystical energy settle, I feel elated.
I experience a sensation like no other; like I’ve turned an unseen key in a paranormal lock. And I finally feel that maybe – just maybe – I can live up to the legend. I can be the Soul Guardian everyone believes I am.
Chapter Fifteen
‘I knew that with the right incentive you’d be able to find a way to unlock Ichabod’s book,’ says Dr. Martin-Crane, looking smug.
It’s Saturday afternoon but there’s no game this weekend so I don’t have cheerleading. I’m sitting in Abigail’s buttercup yellow living room with Ichabod’s book open between us on the coffee table. Ben is in his bedroom, apparently playing video games. I’m not certain how Call of Duty or Assassins Creed or whatever he’s wasting time on is supposed to improve his hand-eye co-ordination or his Hunter’s skills, but I’m not going to bother questioning it either.
His mother looks enormously proud of me – though, in truth, I think she’s prouder of herself because she thinks she was able to push me in the right direction. Little does she know that it had nothing to do with her at all and everything to do with my dad and her son. But I’m not going to be the one to burst her bubble; she’s smiling at me for once, and it transforms both her face and her attitude.
Darkness Echoes: A Spooky YA Short Story Collection Page 42