The Soulkeepers Box Set

by G. P. Ching

But he knew he shouldn’t like Malini, not in that way. If he messed up their friendship, he could lose what he cared about most in Paris—her. Life here might be intolerable without her.

  Jacob reached down to help her empty the cart and their fingers brushed. Malini’s eyes shot up, warm chocolate with flecks of gold and red that danced in the sunlight. He caught himself staring for seconds too long. He swallowed hard.

  “What, Jacob? I’ve got it.” She placed a loaf of bread on the conveyor belt. “Are you feeling okay?”

  “Oh. Yeah. Sorry.”

  “That’ll be eighty-six eighty,” the woman behind the counter said. Jacob counted out the money and then lifted both bags into his arms before Malini could try to help. He led the way out into the parking lot, stepping over the large puddles that had collected from the storm that now rumbled harmlessly in the distance.

  “I can help you with that,” she said, pointing at the bags.

  “No, no, I’ve got it. I was supposed to meet my uncle back at the shop but we were so fast I’m not sure he’ll be done. Do you want to hang out at McNaulty’s if he’s not?” Jacob asked this absently because the unusual movement of a puddle at his feet distracted him. The water swept toward him to one side of the dip in the parking lot, as if it were blown by the wind. Only, there was no wind. In fact, there wasn’t even an incline. The weirdest thing was that he could hear it; the water seemed to hum as it moved, as if the molecules were whispering to him.

  “Do you hear that?” he asked Malini.

  “Hear what?” Malini’s eyebrows scrunched as she saw the water run out of the hole and flow between his feet toward the grocery store. “That’s odd,” she said.

  They turned their heads to see where the water was flowing and saw Dane Michaels and Phillip Westcott saunter toward them. Dane looked bored, but when he spotted them his expression morphed into something like relief. Why Dane would be relieved to see him and Malini, Jacob didn’t know, but he didn’t like it. The two boys were smoking and Dane took one last drag on his cigarette before flicking it at the pavement.

  “If it isn’t our two special friends, P.S. and Kung Fu,” Phillip said.

  Dane slammed a fist into Phillip’s shoulder. “Don’t be rude, Phil,” he said.

  Phillip looked confused but shut his mouth.

  Dane scanned Malini from head to toe and then raised an eyebrow in Phillip’s direction. Jacob wasn’t a mind reader but he was fairly sure Dane had just realized Malini was a girl, too. If looks could kill, Dane would have fallen over dead right then because Jacob didn’t like his sudden appreciation of Malini. He didn’t like it at all.

  “Dane,” Jacob said. It sounded less like a greeting than a threat.

  “Hey, we were just on our way to my house. Why don’t you guys come hang out with us?” Dane said. His expression was stiff.

  “I don’t think so, Dane. We’re busy,” Jacob replied.

  Dane ignored him and snaked his arm around Malini’s waist. “Malini, come hang out with me,” he said softly.

  “Don’t touch me.” She pushed him away. “Have you been drinking?”

  Jacob could smell it too, a faint spicy sweetness that hung in the air around the two boys.

  “Oh, come on. You can’t be having much fun with Lau. Come with me.” Dane pressed his hand into the small of Malini’s back.

  Malini slapped his hand away. “Go home, Dane.”

  Phillip laughed. “Looks like she wants to go with Jacob, Dane. Guess you’re not enough fun for her.”

  And that was the end of the fake politeness. Dane’s face warped into rage.

  “Is that it?” Dane moved toward Malini again, grabbing her wrist. “You wanna have more fun? I can be fun.” Malini tried her hardest to push him away but Dane dug his fingers into her like he had something to prove, turning her skin red around his grip.

  “Come on, Dane, that’s enough. Back off,” Jacob said. He set the groceries down. His fists clenched and he took a step forward.

  “What’s wrong, Jacob? You don’t want Malini to have any fun without you?” Dane leaned forward and ran his tongue up the side of Malini’s face. Phillip laughed hysterically but Malini looked like she might vomit as she struggled to free herself.

  Jacob didn’t wait to see if she would succeed. His fist shot out toward Dane’s jaw and he threw his weight into it. Dane’s head snapped back, forcing him to retreat a step. His hand reflexively shot up to the point of impact, wiping away the blood that bubbled out of his split lip. Malini didn’t miss the opportunity to free herself and lunge behind Jacob.

  Phillip stopped laughing.

  “You are going to wish you never set foot in Paris, freak,” Dane said.

  And then, the side of Jacob’s jaw exploded. Before he could recover, Phillip’s hands were on his shirt, and then holding his arms. Dane pummeled his stomach and chest. With each hit, pain radiated and the taste of blood filled his mouth.

  But Jacob wasn’t giving up. He knew how to fight. It was the one benefit of the time he’d spent living in public housing. He turned his body sideways, shoved his shoulder into Phillip, and sank a sidekick into Dane’s knee. But Phillip was stronger than Jacob hoped and he couldn’t get his arms loose to block Dane’s punches. He took one to the face and felt his lip split open. Another and his eye started to swell. The hurt wasn’t as bad as the loss of his full range of vision.

  Jacob could hear Malini screaming as he took blow after blow, the pain driving him toward the edge of consciousness. What he worried about most was Malini. If he passed out, what would Dane do to her? He had to protect her. No matter what happened to him, Jacob couldn’t let them hurt Malini and somehow he knew they would. With everything he had left, he turned his face toward her and mouthed, Run!

  That’s when he heard the hum again from the water at his feet. It was like when he was little and he would place his hand on the speaker of his father’s stereo. The buzz would tickle his fingers. Only now, the hum made his whole body prickle.

  His thoughts became clear and quick, so quick that everything around him seemed to move in slow motion. Dane’s arm retracted. Malini’s mouth opened as if to scream, and Phillip’s head nodded at Dane, but whatever sounds they made didn’t reach Jacob.

  His body was a string map. Every finger and toe was the end of a string that was tied to the center of his chest, right over his heart. The strings were tight and when he strummed them with his mind they played a note, the same note as the water. In that moment everything felt connected. Using the hum was instinctual. It was like knowing what to do with his kidneys. He didn’t have to understand how they worked, they just did.

  With a new strength, he wrenched his arms free from Phillip’s grip. As Dane’s fist neared his head, he gathered the hum tightly inside and then let go. His arms flew out toward Dane, to push him away. But he missed. Jacob’s hands stopped short of Dane’s chest, but those strings inside of him released.

  Like a slingshot, the hum shot toward Dane, but instead of a stone flying loose, the rain started again—sideways. Not from the sky but from everything wet: the pavement, the trees, and the tops of the cars in the parking lot. It came from behind Jacob, like someone had turned on a fire hose. In a mighty gust, the water washed Dane and Phillip against the wall of Westcott’s grocery. Jacob stared in shock. The impact was so strong he hoped the boys weren’t dead. The water fell to the pavement as abruptly as it had come.

  After moments of painful silence, he was relieved to hear a sharp intake of breath from the two boys, followed by plenty of coughing and spitting. He didn’t press his luck. He grabbed the groceries and Malini’s hand.

  “Let’s get the hell out of here,” he said.

  “What the hell was that?” Malini gasped, falling into step. They hurried up the sidewalk toward Laudner’s Flowers and Gifts.

  “I don’t know. I guess … weather.”

  “No, Jacob. That was not weather. That was some kind of miracle. Did you see the water wash those two away
when you pushed Dane?”

  “It was a coincidence. It had to be.”

  “Were you just there? Did you not see Phillip fly over your head? He was behind you, Jacob! The water washed him away. And look at me! I’m dry as a bone. If it was the weather, why am I not wet?”

  “I don’t know … I don’t know.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t know what happened, okay? Let’s just forget it ever happened.”

  Malini narrowed her eyes and filled her cheeks with air. Her body stopped moving. He pulled her hand gently but she stood her ground.

  “I’ll tell you one thing, you are not going to be able to forget about that anytime soon.” She pointed at his face.

  Jacob turned to see his reflection in the window of his uncle’s shop. His left eye was a swollen red slit and blood from his lip oozed down his chin. He dabbed it with his finger. The door opened and John stepped onto the sidewalk, his mouth twisting into a grimace.

  “Aw hell, Jacob! Could you possibly make my life any more difficult?” John lifted the groceries from Jacob’s arms. “Your Aunt Carolyn is going to have a field day with this. Get in the car!”

  He did as he was told.

  John asked Malini if she needed a ride somewhere but she insisted she was meeting her dad at his office. He didn’t ask twice.

  As John pulled away, Jacob watched Malini through the window of the truck. She remained standing, on the same spot of sidewalk, staring after him with her lips parted slightly. Her expression was unforgettable, like she had just seen a ghost … or a miracle.

  Chapter 13

  The Not-So-Ordinary Sunday

  Every day with the Laudners was bad but, for Jacob, Sundays were the worst. The Laudners were Catholic, which meant they dressed up in their nicest clothes and attended church every Sunday morning at nine o’clock. They had a specific pew where some Laudner had sat in their Sunday best for one hundred and fifty years. Apparently, they had never missed Mass, but as the story goes, twenty-five years ago a visiting family unknowingly sat in the pew before the Laudners arrived. The priest politely asked them to move.

  Jacob struggled to understand the meaning of this Sunday ritual. His family had never practiced any religion. He’d met religious people on Oahu, but he filed the whole concept of religion in the same part of his brain where he kept information on Greek mythology and Santa Claus. It wasn’t that he thought people were stupid for believing, he just thought they were naive.

  The worst part was remembering all of the rules. None of the Laudners ate breakfast before church in order to keep the sacrament of Holy Communion sacred—whatever that meant. He wasn’t allowed to take communion because he wasn’t Catholic, but he was also not allowed to eat breakfast. So, stomach growling and head nodding, he’d endure the hour-long service and try his best to tolerate the stand, sit, and kneel routine.

  After church, John would pick up Aunt Veronica from the Paris nursing home for brunch. Aunt Veronica’s daughter, Linda, son-in-law, Mark, and their two twin daughters would drive from Morton to have brunch with the Laudners. Linda insisted that they couldn’t possibly pick up her mother themselves with the added travel from Morton and John said he was more than happy to do it.

  Everyone would finally join together around the large pine table around one o’clock. By that time, Jacob was starving and regularly snuck food from the refrigerator when no one was looking. A slice of ham was his favorite because he could shove it all in his mouth and swallow in a matter of seconds.

  This particular Sunday was exceptionally stressful as the fallout from his fight was still fresh. His eye was an obnoxious purple and his lip was puffy and probably infected. John had tried to back him up—turns out Dane had a reputation for trouble—but Carolyn wouldn’t hear it. She hadn’t punished him exactly, just yelled long tirades until Jacob felt small and tired. Carolyn had never acted as if she liked Jacob. The fight didn’t help.

  This Sunday, he was determined to keep a low profile and go with the routine, not an easy task considering Aunt Veronica didn’t like him either. She’d never told him so. Actually, she never told anyone anything. Dementia had rendered her mute years ago. But she would point at Jacob and hiss if he got too close. He was pretty sure that wasn’t affection spraying out from between her teeth. Luckily he could smell her coming. The old lady stench was warning enough to beat feet.

  He’d legitimately inhaled several pieces of fried chicken when his cell phone began to vibrate in his pocket. Carolyn looked positively bewildered as she glanced at John and then around the table.

  “It’s my phone,” he offered.

  “Who could that be?” she asked him with a sharp look.

  Jacob slid open the phone and read a text message from Malini asking him to dinner. When he raised his head, Carolyn was glaring at him, like a predator ready to pounce on its prey. He wasn’t thrilled about being the prey.

  “My friend, Malini, is inviting me to dinner at her house tonight. Can I go?”

  Carolyn’s head shook and she began to say no, but John interrupted, talking over his wife as if he couldn’t see her obvious disapproval, “Of course, Jacob, I’ll give you a ride.”

  To say he was surprised at John’s concurrence would have been the understatement of the year. After an awkward silence, everyone went back to his or her food. The rest of the table began a conversation about the fried chicken recipe.

  “Was that Malini I saw you with yesterday?” John asked quietly.

  “Yeah. But she had nothing to do with it,” he whispered. “I just know her from school.”

  “She’s Jim Gupta’s daughter,” John said. It wasn’t a question. The town was too small to not know the one Indian family who lived there. “He lives right by his office. I know just where it is.”

  At quarter to six, John and Jacob excused themselves from a lively conversation about why Linda and Mark didn’t visit Aunt Veronica more often to drive to the Guptas. He thanked John as soon as he climbed into Big Blue.

  “It’s no problem, Jacob. I’m glad to hear you’re making friends. I want you to feel like you’re at home here. It’s about time you settled in.”

  He nodded to be polite, but cringed when he thought of settling in to Paris. This was a resting point, a waiting room until he could save enough money to go to his real home.

  “I need to tell you, I asked about your mother’s things. The police won’t release them because they’re considered evidence. I’m sorry.”

  Jacob stared out the window at the blur of trees racing through his reflection. He would just have to find another way.

  * * * * *

  Four fifty-five Front Street was a beautiful, brick, two-story. The Gupta residence, like all homes in Paris, was enormous by Jacob’s standards. Even without leaves on the trees, the yard looked manicured and the house could have appeared on a postcard.

  John yelled through the window to call when he wanted to be picked up and backed out of the driveway. Jacob approached the house, nervous about meeting Malini’s parents. A gust of wind blew the large American flag that flew from a brass pole near the front door and the striped material swallowed him up. After unwrapping himself, he rang the bell. Malini must have been waiting by the door because it opened almost immediately.

  “Jacob, come in. It’s good to see you!”

  Jacob stepped into the beige marble foyer, his footsteps echoing off the cathedral ceiling and around the crystal chandelier above his head. A man with stylish hair and a black turtleneck extended his hand.

  “Jacob, this is my father, Jahar. He goes by Jim,” Malini said.

  “Malini, why don’t you just introduce me as Jim?” he said, shooting Malini a hard glare. “Hello, Jacob. Welcome to our humble abode.”

  Jacob returned the handshake, wondering if he should call him Jim or Mr. Gupta. He decided on Mr. Gupta. It seemed the most respectful.

  “Malini told us about your accident. You must be more careful next time. That eye looks terrible.”


  Jacob glanced at Malini and she lifted the corner of her mouth. Well, if her story was that he was in an accident, he wasn’t going to argue.

  “And this is my mother, Sarah,” Malini said.

  “Hello, Jacob.” Mrs. Gupta’s accent was more pronounced than her husband’s. She wore the traditional long braid and bindi he associated with Indian women. However, her manner of dress was as American and sophisticated as her husband’s: tan slacks and a red sweater set. “We are so happy you could join us tonight. Malini says you like Indian cuisine?”

  “Yes!” Mr. Gupta chimed in, clapping his hands. “What is this? I thought young people enjoyed hamburgers and pizza, but Malini insisted on an Indian meal.”

  “Yeah, I’ve been craving Indian food,” Jacob said. “I’m sure Malini has told you I grew up on Oahu. The food is different here. I really miss the variety my mom used to make.”

  “Can I offer you something to drink?” Malini asked, after Mrs. Gupta elbowed her in the side.

  “Yes, thank you. Water would be great.”

  “While Sarah and Malini get the drinks, let me take you on the tour,” Mr. Gupta said.

  The home was suspiciously vacant of anything Indian. In fact, it was the most American home Jacob had ever seen. Even the Laudners had vases made in China and rugs from Pakistan. The Gupta home was decorated entirely from items made in the Americas. This was not something Jacob would have normally noticed, but Mr. Gupta made a point of it as they walked from room to room. In the den, he showed off a small antique writing desk that was used by Abraham Lincoln.

  “Can you believe it, Jacob? Abraham Lincoln! I couldn’t be happier to have this in my house.”

  Malini, who had entered with the water, looked at Jacob and rolled her eyes.

  After some light conversation, the family gathered around a long cherry table and Mrs. Gupta served the food. There was yellow curry with chicken, lamb vindaloo, pineapple chutney, and mounds of jasmine rice. He ate like he hadn’t seen food in a month.

  When dinner was over, Jacob followed Malini through a glass-paneled door, down a flight of stairs, to a large game room. A polished pool table was at the center of the room. Behind it, he spotted a foosball table and ping-pong.