The Secrets of Their Souls

by Brooke Sivendra

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN – ZAHRA

  While Jayce was busy and distracted with his father in town, Zahra took the opportunity to delve headfirst into her research. The last four nights had been peaceful, but she knew it was only a matter of time before Raven returned to torture her—she always did.

  Past-life regression therapy Manhattan

  Zahra typed the words into her best friend, Google, and searched for the best therapist that Manhattan had to offer. She had spent every night on her computer reading various sources but she still didn’t have the answers to her questions, and she needed to talk to someone real, someone with lots of experience in this field.

  Zahra scrolled through the listings with due diligence, carefully checking their references and credibility before narrowing it down to just three. And then she put it in fate’s hands—whichever one had the first available appointment was going to be her new therapist. She dialed the first number and held her breath until the receptionist answered her call.

  “Good afternoon, Dr. Robert Moore’s office. How can I help you today?”

  Zahra hesitated, her determination faltering at the realization of what she was actually doing. “Good afternoon. I would like to enquire about making an appointment with Dr. Moore, please.” Her voice was shaking and she was unable to hide her nerves despite her best efforts. This seemed like such a good idea a few moments ago, she thought, now wondering if she should hang up and forget all about it.

  “Dr. Moore has a waiting list exceeding six months,” the receptionist said and then paused. “But, he actually has a cancelation this afternoon that we haven’t been able to fill due to the extremely short notice. It’s in half an hour. Would you be able to make it?”

  Zahra had organized to work from home so that she could make this call in private, but she hadn’t been prepared to go in for an appointment. Her eyes flicked to the address displayed on her laptop screen; she could get there in time, just. Without thinking it over any further, she accepted the appointment and vowed to catch up on her work later tonight. Zahra thanked the receptionist, hung up, grabbed her purse and keys and headed to see Dr. Moore.

  Climbing the six steps to Dr. Moore’s office was nerve-racking and she second-guessed herself again. There was still time to turn back. She could tell them she hadn’t been able to get there in time and even offer to pay them their cancelation fee. But she didn’t stop—instead she opened the door to both her past and her future.

  Zahra had been expecting a dull, antiquated office much like you see in the movies but, instead, it was modern and beautiful. Uncannily, the interior reminded her of Mason and immediately put her at ease: It’s a sign I’ve chosen the right therapist, she told herself. A young gentleman greeted her and handed over some forms to complete while she waited to meet the doctor. The longer Zahra sat there, the more nervous she became and she looked around for a sign indicating the direction of the restrooms, preempting that her mid-morning snack may soon leave her.

  “Miss Foster.”

  Zahra looked up to the graying man in front of her, whom she assumed was in his late sixties—the thin comb-over giving it away. He immediately struck her as a kind, humble man and she followed him faithfully into his room and sat down in chair he gestured to.

  “So, Miss Foster, what brings you to me today?”

  Zahra cleared her throat. “For several years now, I suppose, I have been having quite vivid dreams. They have increased in both frequency and intensity and recently, I thought,” she said, fiddling with her sleeve, “I think that I recognize someone, someone who works with me. I have seen him in several dreams.” It sounded ridiculous to say out loud but she supposed Dr. Moore had heard much crazier things given his line of work.

  Deep crow’s feet formed around his eyes when he smiled. “Our dreams can be very interesting, can’t they? Tell me more about your dreams. What do you see and how do you feel when you wake up?”

  Zahra divulged what information she could but the words kept getting stuck in her throat—she had never told anyone about her dreams before. She also played down the violence level a little; she was ashamed to admit how savage Raven had been. He scribbled down notes vigilantly, his facial expression changing little.

  “Okay. Now tell me about this colleague.”

  Zahra told him that they had recently met and that they had become friends. She told him about the flashback image and that she had seen him in her dreams.

  “Very interesting,” Dr. Moore said, looking up from his yellow notepad. “These dreams, it is very probable that they are past-life dreams, given how real they feel for you, and also since you have recognized this colleague. There are numerous theories on why we dream, but I believe, when it comes to past-life dreams particularly, that they are the soul’s way of helping us in this lifetime, telling us something that we need to know in order to evolve. There are many, many lessons we must learn and life is really just one big classroom.”

  “So I have a lot to learn then, right?” Zahra tried to crack a joke and Dr. Moore smiled softly. “But how do I know for sure that these are past-life dreams?” Zahra asked.

  “We can’t always have a guarantee but I think through regression therapy, if the dreams are past-life dreams, then you would find yourself back in Raven’s lifetime and that would be convincing enough for me. And we have time today, if you would like to try. Or you can have a think about it and make another appointment if you wish.”

  If Zahra thought about it too much she might not be back for another appointment. “I, I think we should try today. But one other thing, do you think it’s possible that my colleague would recognize me too?”

  He considered it. “It would be rare for two souls to come together again and both remember the past. Has he said anything to indicate that he might?”

  “No. I just wondered about it.”

  “It would be safe to assume he doesn’t, but it is possible.” He bowed his head and read over his notes, taken in traditional handwritten form. Zahra could see his writing now and it was neater than hers and all scribed in upper case. He wrote one last line and then looked up at her. “I think we should get started.”

  Zahra was instructed to recline back in her chair and relax, focusing on her breath. She tried to listen to his words and follow his instructions but nothing changed; she didn’t feel any different and she didn’t feel herself relax at all. Surely this is not how it’s supposed to feel, Zahra thought. She didn’t feel hypnotized, in fact she felt more alert than she had in the last two weeks—it wasn’t working.

  “Don’t be too concerned just yet,” Dr. Moore said to her as she sat upright again in the chair next to him. “Some regress straight away, others need a few sessions, and there is a population of people who can’t regress at all but that’s very small. In fact, I’ve only had one patient who has never been able to regress, and I’ve seen thousands.”

  Zahra nodded. She had wanted proof of her reincarnation theory, and although she hadn’t regressed, there was little doubt left in her mind, if any.

  *

  It was too early for the sun to have warmed the cool night air. Zahra bounced on the balls of her feet, her arms wrapped around her waist in a paltry attempt to keep warm. Their Monday training session had been rescheduled and, due to work commitments, she hadn’t been able to attend any of the other trainings so this was her first session and she was still on the fence as to whether it was a good idea or not. She was also on the fence as to whether she should have worn full-length tights. Once they started running, though, she would be hot and she could hardly just take her pants off mid-run. Instead she’d layered a tank with a lightweight windbreaker—one that she could take off and tie around her waist once her body had warmed. In dribs and drabs, the running team assembled at the front of Mason Corp., the last one to arrive being the coach.

  “Alrighty, there’re a few new runners here this morning so we’re going to do a shorter run, about four miles. I’ll set a steady pace but if you’r
e struggling don’t worry, we’ll split up into two smaller groups. Let’s jog for a few minutes and then we’ll stop and stretch,” he said and then he was off and running with nine sheep following behind. He might not be punctual, Zahra thought, but he made up for it in efficiency.

  Jackson Coby was an intriguing man: not straight-up handsome, but still alluring. He had a presence that was warm and wild, and Zahra would bet her life that this man liked to live on the edge. She eased into the run, her mind surrendering to the invigoratingly crisp air. She had talked little to the other runners this morning; no one, including herself, was much in the mood for small talk at 5:00 a.m.

  Unconsciously, Zahra found herself positioned at the front of the pack, but she shouldn’t have been surprised—a four-mile run was little more than a warmup for her. And it was her favorite time of the day to run; as the sun rose Manhattan came to life, the energy shift so palpable it was almost visible. It is so much more beautiful out on the streets than on the treadmill, Zahra thought, and she resolved to run outside more often.

  Jackson Coby was soon running circles around the team, both setting pace and checking on the runners at the rear. He weaved through the group and was soon alongside her. “You must be Zahra Foster,” he said, matching her pace.

  She looked at him suspiciously. “It’s nice to meet you, Jackson. How do you know who I am?”

  He laughed. “Devon told me to look out for the girl who is barely sweating.”

  “And where is that boy this morning? This was all his brilliant idea.”

  “That, Zahra, is a very good question.”

  They ran side by side for a couple miles, the methodical inhale and exhale of their lungs their only verbal exchange. It was nice to have a running partner, she thought, especially one like Jackson who didn’t ask questions, who didn’t need to talk, but one who provided company in what could otherwise be a lonely time. Zahra didn’t think about Jayce, she didn’t think about her dreams, she didn’t think about work—her mind was still and clear, and she felt peaceful. Jackson tagged off, heading to the back of the group again to check on their fellow runners. Zahra looked over her shoulder; the group was still together but some were starting to gasp. How the hell did these people think they were going to run a marathon in a few months? She had questioned her ability, and sanity, at the idea and she could run! Some of this group might not stand a chance, she finally concluded, but at least they would be a little fitter when it was all said and done.

  They rounded the corner and come to a slow stop in front of Mason Corp. and Zahra hit stop on her sports watch. She performed a series of half-assed stretches, not feeling the sheer exhaustion she usually felt post-run. She had expected they would run for longer and hence had taken her gym bag with a change of clothes up to her office earlier this morning. She was apparently starting work very early today; at least that would make Jayce happy.

  “Ah good, Lou’s here already,” Jackson said, peeping through the glass of the Mason café. “You think she’ll let us in for a coffee?” He banged on the glass, waving both hands on the air. “Please, Lou, please!”

  Lou walked to the door, opening it and ushering the remainder of the small group in. “Only because I like you, Jackson.”

  His laugh rumbled through the café. “That’s not true, you just don’t want me screaming like a lunatic on your sidewalk.”

  Lou didn’t deny it and took her post at the coffee machine. “Hit me,” she said and they fired their orders and then sat down at a small, square table for four.

  It was an exotic blend of people, each one as different as the next. Jackson was loud and vivacious, Lizzy had a sense of humor so dry it left sand in your mouth, Nick was a foul-mouthed jokester and Zahra was the most reserved of them all, content to sit back, listen, and watch the others fight to get a word in. Of her new running friends, she liked Jackson the most. Nick and Lizzy were tolerable but when they excused themselves, parting with their coffees in hand, she wasn’t disappointed.

  “Devon was right about you,” Jackson said, his arms crossed on the table. “How often do you run?”

  “Three to four times per week, depending.”

  “And how far do you run?”

  “About fifteen miles.”

  Zahra managed to shock Jackson Coby. “Damn, what are you running from?” He laughed. “So Devon conned you into this, huh? I’ve noticed he finishes work early on Thursdays now so that he can get to the gym… about the same time you run with your sister. I think he has a thing for her.”

  Zahra smiled. “I think you’re right… and he’s got his work cut out for him there.”

  “Some girls are worth the effort,” Jackson said.

  Zahra heard Jayce’s voice behind her, ordering his morning coffee, and Jackson, who was facing in his direction, raised his hand.

  “Morning, Jayce, join us for a coffee?”

  Zahra turned, revealing unrequired guilt—she had nothing to hide but still it was an awkward situation.

  Jayce walked over to their table and looked down at her; his face was composed and professional. “Morning,” he said as he bowed his head. “Thank you, but I’m heading up to the office early.” He looked over them both. “Early workout?”

  “We sure did,” Jackson answered. “We’ve started a running club, training for the marathon in a few months. You’re welcome to join us.”

  “I appreciate the invite but I’d be lucky to make one session per month at this rate,” Jayce said just as his phone rang. He stuck his hand in his pocket, looking at the screen as he pulled it out. “I have to take this, have a good day.”

  Without a second look at her, he walked off, headed for the elevators. She exhaled a shaky sigh, which caught Jackson’s attention.

  “He makes you nervous? Don’t worry, I think he’s actually an all right guy.”

  Zahra nodded her head, hiding her smile. He definitely made her nervous but not in the way Jackson presumed. And if he knew that she was Jayce’s girlfriend, he’d probably be the one letting out the shaky sigh. “Time will tell,” she said, standing. “I should get going too. I will see you on Wednesday evening. Thanks for the coffee.” Zahra said goodbye to Lou and left the cafeteria while someone else slipped into her seat at the table—Jackson was the kind of man who could talk to anyone.

  *

  Zahra heard her office phone ringing when she walked in, the sound waves bouncing off the empty office walls. She checked the Caller ID: Jayce Tohmatsu.

  “Good morning, my darling Jayce.”

  He scoffed. “That’s not going to work, sugar. What are you doing having coffee with Jackson Coby?”

  Zahra rolled her eyes. “As he said, we are part of the running group and we had a coffee afterward, with others, but they had left by the time you arrived.”

  “How convenient… I don’t like it and I don’t like my girlfriend getting sweaty with other men.”

  “Well, that’s something you’re going to have to get over because we will all be sweatin’ it up a few mornings a week.”

  “You should be careful of him, he’s a womanizer.”

  “And you’re not?” Zahra barked out a laugh. “How do you know that, anyway?”

  “No, I am not. And I have ears everywhere, so I hear all kinds of crazy things.”

  “Well, Mason seems to generate a weekly digest of rumors of one kind or another, so that’s no surprise,” she said, some of Lizzy’s dryness rubbing off on her.

  “That’s true. And I didn’t actually call you about your coffee date, even though I don’t like it. I wanted to tell you that my father is leaving tomorrow morning, which means I’m a free man. Do you want to come over for dinner tomorrow night? I’ll even cook.”

  “Will it be edible?” Zahra joked. She couldn’t imagine Jayce had spent much time in the kitchen.

  “I’m a natural. I must have been a chef in a past life or something,” Jayce said and chuckled.

  Zahra froze, repeating his words in her head. She su
ddenly felt very cold.

  “Look, I have to get going but I’ll text you my address. Meet me there at nine,” Jayce said.

  “Sure, I’ll see you tomorrow night.” Zahra forced out the words as her body slowly recovered from the shock. Was that an odd comment to make or am I just overreacting? Zahra decided she was overreacting—he’d said it so casually, and reincarnation was hardly a new concept. Zahra pushed it from her mind; she had much more important things to worry about, like the stack of papers on her desk.

  *

  I stood on the edge, looking over the rocky dunes; it was difficult to distinguish where one ended and the next began. I looked closer: maybe there was no beginning and no end, maybe they were all part of one vast, scorched conglomerate. But I wasn’t here to admire the view, I was here to make a deal. Apparently. I couldn’t fathom what mirthful proposal he had conjured but curiosity gripped my mind and I couldn’t let it go. It was worth hearing at least, and then I would kill him.

  His dark shadow drifted over the sand, calm and unhurried. I had chosen this spot for a reason: it gave me the advantage. He was like a blind man walking and still it didn’t stop him. He was either a fool or a genius, yet to be determined. As he approached, his footsteps slowed to an aching pace until he stopped short, standing a stone’s throw away. I felt the spike of thrill, the yearning to kill. I inhaled sharply.

  “Take off your coat,” he instructed.

  I raised my eyebrows. He was commanding for a man with a target on his back. I obliged, though, playing along for the moment. My coat slipped to the rocky gravel crunching beneath my feet. “What do you think I’m hiding?”