The Soul Thief

by Leah Cutter

  “What do you mean?” Franklin asked. “I’m not trying to get the blade back.”

  “Franklin Kanly, I know you well enough to know when you’re lying to me,” Julie said. “And I also know you’re too stubborn to just let that son of a bitch win. So how are you getting that blade back?”

  “I can’t tell you,” Franklin said, knowing he was admitting to some kind of plan just by saying that much. They weren’t married. Sheriff Thompson might threaten her job or something if she didn’t testify against Franklin. And Franklin didn’t want to put Odell at risk either. She’d come after him if he did.

  That was maybe another reason why he and Julie should get married. So she couldn’t testify against him. Though he didn’t think he should mention that to Julie just now.

  “What do you mean?” Julie asked.

  She didn’t sound mad. She sounded hurt.

  “If you don’t know, you can’t be made an accessory, or something,” Franklin explained. “But I’m gonna get that blade back.”

  Julie nodded. “So you don’t say anything. Let me guess. You found someone to break into Dr. Traeger’s place.”

  “I can’t tell you that,” Franklin said. It surprised him how much he really wanted to tell Julie everything.

  “So, what, they’ll meet you at a prearranged place?” Julie asked, her eyes narrowed.

  Franklin felt uncomfortable under her gaze. Like she was trying to take him apart, following every twitch, every breath, as if she could see how hard his heart was pounding.

  Telling himself to just relax like they did on those cop shows on TV wasn’t helping a bit.

  He licked his lips, surprised to see how salty they were from the sweat that had broken out across the top one. “No, ma’am,” he replied. “Can you not ask me anything more?”

  Julie reached out and took his hand, lacing their fingers together. “It’s okay. Someone’s gonna call you, since you don’t have a place arranged.”

  Franklin stiffened. He knew Julie was smart. He hadn’t figured she was that smart.

  “I can’t tell you,” Franklin said softly.

  But Julie was nodding. “I know I’m right. So I’m just gonna sit here and wait with you until that phone rings.”

  Franklin sighed. On the one hand, he really didn’t want Julie to come with. He wanted to protect her, keep her safe.

  On the other hand, even if she was blazing mad at him, it was still nice to have her here, by his side, in the quiet of the night, watching the stars come out.

  Ξ

  Julie was on her second beer while Franklin was still nursing his first when the phone in his pocket chirped.

  “You gonna answer that?” Julie asked.

  Franklin sighed and dug the phone out of his pocket. He hadn’t been able to think of a way of ditching Julie all night. If he went out the back and into the fields, she’d just follow him. He couldn’t get away from her on his bike. She had a car.

  He’d considered stealing it, but knew she’d never forgive him.

  And as much as he wanted to keep her safe, he wanted for them to still be a couple even more.

  He flipped the phone open. The message said merely, “Averson’s Fields.”

  Franklin paused, blinking. Odell had managed to sneak back up the lane without them hearing her? Of course she had. But why was she wanting to meet in the fields next to his house?

  At least she didn’t want to meet in his field. If there was to be a battle, at least his corn might survive that year.

  He closed the phone and looked over at Julie.

  “Don’t you even think about leaving without me,” she told him bluntly. “If you ride your bicycle out of here, I’ll just follow you. And you can’t really outrun me in my car.”

  Franklin bit his lip. “Okay. Odell—shoot, forget I said that name—is over in Mrs. Averson’s fields. Waiting for me. You need to stay here, in the house. Where it’ll be safer.”

  It wouldn’t be safe. Dr. Traeger knew where he lived. So did Odell, apparently.

  But he had to protect Julie, somehow.

  Was this how Mama had felt all these years? Why she’d had to stay, even past death, until she was certain he’d be all right?

  Did he want to be like Mama that way?

  “I’ll stay at the edge of the field,” Julie told him. “But if I hear you call out or anything, I’m calling Sheriff Thompson. Then I’m coming in to get you.”

  Franklin would have preferred for Julie to stay away from the danger, but he couldn’t lock her in the house, no matter how much he might want to. He had to let her come.

  He weren’t Mama. He knew Julie could take care of herself.

  Though if Franklin got into some kind of trouble that Odell couldn’t handle, well, Julie probably wouldn’t be much good either.

  Except as a nurse.

  Ξ

  The moon was less than half-full when they stepped from the house, not adding much light to the driveway. Cicadas screamed in the fields surrounding them. The interstate seemed quiet that night, the trucks already gone home. No frogs added their belching tune, probably scared away by Odell, waiting for them in the field.

  Franklin had a windbreak of tall linden trees to the south, between his property and the Aversons’. While they could push their way through the twisted trunks, it wouldn’t be easy. So they walked up to the lane, then headed towards the neighbor’s fields.

  Mrs. Averson hadn’t planted anything in the fields for years. But she did pay to have it regularly mowed. The wild grass grew past Franklin’s knees, hearty and thick.

  It was good soil, there. Just a shame she wouldn’t lower her price, or let Franklin have those fields. He could grow some mighty fine popping corn.

  Julie held onto his hand tightly. Franklin scanned the fields, looking for something out of the ordinary. As they approached the spot where Darryl said there’d been a parked car, a light suddenly appeared, far off across the field.

  Franklin figured that was Odell, signaling where he should go.

  When Franklin tried to let go of Julie’s hand, to give her a last goodbye hug, she held on, not letting go.

  Franklin just stopped. “What do you think you’re doing?” he asked. “I thought you’d agreed to stay by the side of the road.”

  “I lied,” Julie told him cheerfully.

  Franklin stayed where he was, shaking his head. He didn’t want to be having this argument here in the middle of the lane, but he would, if necessary. Odell would be angry, but this was more important. “You’ve been saying how could you trust me if I don’t talk to you. Now I’m asking you, how can I trust you if you’re gonna lie that way?”

  It seemed to Franklin that Julie had thought she’d been being cute or something, but it just sat wrong with him. It weren’t quite bullying, but almost.

  Julie instantly stopped smiling. “I’m sorry,” she said. “And you’re right. I shouldn’t do things like that if I want you to trust me.”

  “So you understand that you need to keep your promise, then,” Franklin said seriously. “Else I won’t be able to trust you.” And while his whole heart ached at the thought of not having Julie in his life, he needed her to be true. Or else their relationship wouldn’t be worth the effort.

  Julie sighed and looked away. Franklin knew she was mad. But was she more angry at herself or the situation?

  Finally, Julie nodded. “I’ll stay here. But something goes wrong—”

  “Y’all come riding in like the cavalry,” Franklin said.

  Julie suddenly let go of his hand and pulled him into a fierce hug. “You come back to me, Franklin Kanly. Or I…I don’t know what I’ll do. But you won’t like it.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Franklin said, holding her back just as tight. “Don’t want to lose you, either.”

  Julie surprised him with the kiss she gave him—soft and sweet, like the promise of spring. Then she let go, stepping back. “I got my phone right here. And 911 as well as the sheriff on speed d
ial.”

  “I’ll only be a minute,” Franklin promised her, knowing he was lying.

  He didn’t imagine Odell would cross Ray. But what if she’d been forced to make that call by the doctor? She did have an aunt who’d recently died.

  Then he turned and started across the field, the tips of the grass wet with dew and soaking his jeans through at the knees. But he marched on, like a soldier, going to battle.

  Fighting for those he loved, with only his love as a shield.

  Eleven

  TIME SEEMED TO stretch out, like wet leather, just waiting for that final snap, as Franklin marched across Mrs. Averson’s fields. The pale moon above him gave off more light out here, unblocked by the trees. High, knife-thin clouds were stretched across the dark sky, hiding the few stars that were out.

  The cicadas were deafening. Their cycling cry sent shivers up and down Franklin’s spine. The smell of the good earth, though, under his sneakers, grounded Franklin. Reminded him why he was doing this, fighting for the natural way of things.

  The light came from an old-fashioned kerosene lantern. Odell had flattened a large circle of weeds and grass, and stood at the edge of it, the lantern at her feet.

  This was the first time Franklin had seen her stand voluntarily near a light. Her face was pinched tight, not giving anything away.

  Was this a trap?

  The doctor walked out of the shadows from behind Odell.

  Shit. Yes. It was a trap.

  He weren’t in his scrubs this time, but wore a dark suit jacket, white dress shirt, and jeans. His hair was even more red now, and was starting to grow back. Despite how his face had fleshed out, he still had hard, beady eyes, like a weasel’s.

  “So, my worthy adversary, I see you have returned,” Dr. Traeger said.

  Why did the doctor talk that way? Was it because he was crazy? Or was it because he thought all of the future was gonna be looking back on this moment and judging his words?

  “I almost feel sorry for you, for the path you’ve chosen,” Dr. Traeger said. “But like the other fools who won’t join me, you’re just going to die.”

  With a flourish of his hand, Dr. Traeger reached into his suit and drew out the knife.

  Suddenly, the pain in Franklin’s side surged. The pulse of the knife under Franklin’s skin beat harder, like a war drum.

  The doctor paused for a moment with the blade before him, chanting an invocation in a language Franklin didn’t want to learn, the sounds twisting his tongue. A sickly yellow glow bloomed around the doctor, like a cloud of plague surrounding him. Then he started waving the blade through the air, like a baton, as if he were conducting an invisible orchestra.

  Ghosts sprang up between them, rapidly rising, like evil fog. The ghosts were already howling as they came into being, the noise as deafening as tornado winds.

  Franklin couldn’t just turn away and run. The ghosts would come after him. And all he’d be doing was leading them back across the field to Julie. So he stood his ground, grinding his teeth together, determined to stay and do what he could.

  The doctor continued to wave the blade.

  The ghosts surged forward.

  Before Franklin could step back, they’d started passing through him.

  The cold was so intense Franklin’s teeth started chattering. His insides felt displaced, like someone had scooped them out with an ice cream scoop, then slopped them back inside him, nothing in the right place anymore.

  “Stop it!” Franklin said. The ghosts were sapping his strength, making it hard for him to even shuffle his feet.

  He still moved forward, closer to the doctor, more determined than ever to stop him.

  The ghosts were all angry and howling, angrier, in fact, than usual.

  They didn’t want to go through him. They were being directed against what little will they had. It pissed them off more, made them colder and more frightening.

  Franklin knew it was just a matter of time before he died, his heart frozen from fright and cold.

  He had to stop the doctor. He caught Odell’s eye, asking her, “Why?”

  “Dude’s gonna make me immortal,” Odell explained. “Do you know what level of black belt I could get to with lifetimes to study? Wetwork ain’t gonna be nothing compared to what I’ll be able to do.”

  Her glittering eyes shifted from Franklin to the doctor, and she watched him intently. Greedily.

  Franklin felt his own howl gathering in his throat. Didn’t she understand? The price they’d have to pay for living so long was too high.

  All of Franklin’s future was being stripped from him. His life with Julie. The chance to grow old, gain wisdom with his aches.

  No little girl to teach. No son to cherish. The natural cycle of birth, growth, and death, broken.

  The noise both inside and outside of Franklin’s head was deafening. The cold stabbed him worse than any knife. His sorrow multiplied.

  Franklin couldn’t hold it back any longer.

  He threw his head back and howled.

  The sound mingled with the winds, cycling up with the howls of the ghosts. It grew to an unnatural noise, born of desperation and fear.

  Franklin continued to howl and pushed himself forward another few inches. He had to get to the doctor. Stop him, somehow.

  The doctor paused in his conducting. His eyebrows shot up his broad forehead. He seemed surprised that Franklin was still there, able to move, able to defy him.

  The yellow cloud faded and started falling off the doctor, peeling away like petals from a flower.

  Was it Franklin’s own howls that was doing that? Or had the doctor lost his concentration?

  Odell sprang forward. She was moving so fast her hand blurred as she struck the doctor on his right shoulder—the hand holding the knife.

  Franklin would have bet that normally, that kind of blow would have sent a body flying.

  Doctor Traeger merely shrugged, taking a half step back.

  Odell kicked the hand holding the knife, again, moving faster than Franklin would have thought possible.

  Still, the doctor’s arm didn’t go flying up.

  The knife, however, did.

  Before the doctor could grab it, Odell had snatched the blade away.

  Just as quick, she tossed it toward Franklin with an easy, underhand throw. “Do your thing,” she instructed him.

  Franklin normally wouldn’t have been able to catch the blade. But it came straight to his hand, the haft smacking firmly against his palm.

  It had, after all, always liked him better. It also felt to Franklin like the blade was relieved to be away from the doctor.

  But now what did he do?

  Doctor Traeger turned to Odell. “I would have made you immortal!” he snarled.

  Odell just shrugged. “And then what? We’d –a’ killed each other off, one by one, ’til there weren’t no one left. Always gotta have new recruits. Fool.”

  Franklin’s surge of relief didn’t last.

  Now that he held the blade, the ghosts was turning to him. The blade throbbed in his hand, the power evident.

  But the power of the ghosts was there too, the cold passing over him in waves.

  Like the last time Franklin had held the blade in the face of ghosts, he felt a calm take over him, almost like a heavy curtain had been drawn between him and his emotions, his anger and his fear.

  The blade moved Franklin’s hand, bringing it up toward his face, like a knight giving a salute to his opponent.

  One of the ghosts separated himself from the rest, a middle-aged white man. He wore a fancier jacket than the others, with brass buttons running in two lines down the front and embroidered patches on the tops of his shoulders. His face grew more distinct as he stood there, with a beard and mustache forming beneath his hollowed-out eyes.

  Hell, Franklin would have sworn he kinda looked like Karl, or Karl’s great-great-great-granddaddy.

  The ghost held up his sword and gave the same salute back to Frank
lin.

  Then he attacked.

  Franklin had never been in a sword fight before—the closest he’d come had been attacking the creature the previous year, using corncobs as swords. He jumped back, swinging the blade wildly.

  It caught the soldier’s blade with a high-pitched ting.

  The ghost pressed forward, fighting with finesse.

  Franklin let the blade move his hand more, defending himself.

  He couldn’t back up none, though.

  That ghost wasn’t getting through him. Wasn’t gonna be able to cross the field and go attack Julie, next.

  That ghost needed to go back to where it came from. Pass back along into its well-deserved rest.

  Franklin weren’t no expert with a blade or fighting.

  But he knew his duty. He’d been helping ghosts pass along most of his life.

  The blade knew what to do, though.

  Franklin stood tall and proud and started pushing back, directing his will and his intent at the ghost. Trying to use the blade, too, to send the ghost along. Back to where it came from.

  The ghost still fought. He got in a good blow, the ghost’s sword passing through Franklin’s arm, the cold burning through his bones.

  Franklin knew he couldn’t survive too many blows like that. They was too chilling, likely to freeze his soul.

  So Franklin pressed on. He wouldn’t give up. Finally, he got a good solid hit on the ghost’s chest.

  The ghost stepped back, fading as it did, losing its shape as it turned to mist.

  The next fancy-dressed ghost stepped up. He didn’t need as much convincing, and weren’t fighting as hard. He faded almost before Franklin finished his third pass with his blade.

  The ghosts spreading across the field thinned out.

  Franklin realized he was fighting the generals, and as they passed, they were taking their troops with them.

  Still, some of the men fought desperate hard. They were still fighting the war. Even with the cold the ghosts generated, Franklin found he was sweating.

  A solid hard noise made him look up.

  Odell had flattened the doctor. She was sitting on his back. She grinned at Franklin and gave him a thumb’s up.

  Finally, only one ghost remained, steely-eyed and angry. He wasn’t a general, but a regular enlisted man. The bandages around his head bled dark, glittering blood. His uniform had holes along the sides, through which the ghost’s pale skin gleamed.