Soul to Keep

by Rebekah Weatherspoon

  ❖

  The dark and the cold told me it was time to go inside, but I couldn’t move. How long had I been out there, letting my tears run into a pile of ashes? I hadn’t the faintest idea. Eventually, Faeth came and carried me back inside. I didn’t fight her. I was cold and covered in ash and blood. We didn’t go back to Ginger and Camila’s; the cleanup was probably underway.

  She took me to her place, with her clean modern furniture and colors and whites. No black to be seen. I washed and dressed in a gigantic shirt she let me borrow. She wrapped me in a blanket and pulled me into her side on the sofa, letting her tall frame be my shelter. We watched cartoons. Cartoons were safe.

  Omi brought me something to eat. Hattie had to take care of some things, she said. But she would be back to check on me. She’d be back soon.

  Then Ginger came, to deprogram me I supposed. I’d seen hell in that thing. Seen horrors. I’d killed my presentation partner. If Ginger didn’t come in and unscramble my brains, I’d probably never sleep again. She smiled and approached me slowly, held out her hand cautiously, her knife in the other, asking if I’d take her back, if I’d be bound to her once again.

  I looked at Ginger and her own stretched hands, then up to her green eyes. I thought about this moment two years earlier, and what I should have said, the questions I should have asked.

  She said the words exactly the same way, posed a question that had a clear and definite answer. “Jill, will you bind yourself to me—”

  “No.”

  “Huh?”

  “No. I don’t want you.”

  “Jill, please. I know things are…things are fucked right now, but I only released you to save you. We need to reseal our bond.”

  “For what?”

  “So I can—”

  “Feed from me? We don’t need a bond for that. You want to keep tabs on me, and we’ve seen how well that worked out. I don’t want to be bound to you or anyone else.”

  Ginger looked at me, mouth open, but silent. If I had to move out of the house, I would. Dorm living wouldn’t be so bad. At least I’d have my own room. Moving wasn’t happening tonight though. I closed my eyes and leaned my head against Faeth’s side. It was strange, but I had no trouble sleeping at all.

  ❖

  A lot of work went into covering up a crime scene, but Dalhem had the resources and the connections. Faeth and Camila had taken responsibility for looking after me and making sure I didn’t go off the deep end, and while they were hovering, I made them answer my questions. I wanted to know everything that was going on. I had a right to know. So they told me. I killed Brayley. Well, the demon used my body to kill Brayley, and at least two dozen people saw me make my way back to the Row covered in her blood. The first thing they had to do was find anyone who saw anything; at the same time, Omi was working with local police to cover up her murder.

  It had to be done. I understood the necessity of the work, the secrets, the lies. I also didn’t want to go to prison. But I had a feeling I would also struggle with the guilt of knowing that Brayley’s family would never know what really happened.

  Not that they would understand. I imagine losing a child was hard enough to comprehend, but how would they handle the grisly details, details that wouldn’t make sense. Camila explained that homicide investigations took time, so for now they believed her murder to be a complete accident. Omi and Mary had been there when Brayley’s parents came to identify her body. They altered things, made them see the still, yet peaceful, body of their daughter. Not the mangled corpse I’d left behind in Hamilton. Eventually, they’d find someone, someone who had actually committed a murder and attribute Brayley’s death to them to give her family some closure. If closure was really possible.

  And while all of this was going on outside the house, my sisters in Alpha Beta Omega did their best to deal with Tokyo’s death. I made it clear that I didn’t want my personal association with Tokyo to be disclosed to the girls because I knew they would blame me. Not to mention the massive can of worms we’d be opening if the girls realized who Bridgette really was. Camila and Ginger were nice enough to explain that Tokyo chose to sacrifice herself for me. That was the point of all of this, Camila said. So they could protect us, shield us, do whatever it took to keep us safe. There were some grumblings about why Ginger hadn’t taken the fall since I was her feeder, at the time, but that kind of talk was quickly shut down when Chelsea admitted that Tokyo was exactly the kind of person to die for one of us, any of us. Chelsea knew just how special she was.

  Her feeders in ABO were split between Ginger and Camila. Faeth told me that Hattie had taken her feeders outside of the house. I felt a little better knowing they were being cared for by someone who was just as amazing and caring as the vampire they had lost.

  Being possessed seemed reason enough for me to be acting a little out of it. The girls tiptoed around me, not speaking to me directly, but showing this sudden deference to my well-being. Portia asked me what I needed every morning and every night when she saw me. Someone was always there, when Faeth and Camila couldn’t be, making sure I ate. I could always feel Florencia watching me. When I cried silently, they didn’t push me away, but pulled me closer, encouraging me to be with them. I didn’t fight it, didn’t have the strength to.

  Everything I had in me was focused on not playing the blame game. I didn’t kill Tokyo. This wasn’t my fault. But I would never see her again. I would never get an opportunity to tell her how sorry I was. We would never have a chance to at least try to work things out. I didn’t want to be bound to anyone, but I wanted her in my life, still. I wanted to be with her, and now all hope of seeing just where the love between us could go was gone. I thought about her almost every minute. Saw her heart literally in my hands, over and over. Knew the smell of her hot ashes would never leave me.

  Faeth offered to follow me home to Montreal for Thanksgiving break, but I said no. I needed a break from our sister-queens. I needed a break from the undead, from those whose only ties to me involved blood magic. I needed a break from Ginger’s not-so-subtle hovering, and she needed to understand that she wasn’t going to get me back. I never wanted to be bound to her again. Dad and Papa knew something was wrong the moment they found me in baggage claim. A breakup, I’d told them, backing up the existence of a relationship with the pictures of Bridgette and me I still had in my phone. They understood.

  Dr. Miller e-mailed me over break. I’d received an A in her class, she said. She’d understand if she didn’t see me for the rest of the semester. I thought about not going back. I could stay home with Papa and Dad, relax, regroup, bake. But something told me I had to go back. Something felt unfinished. Something other than my degrees. Decisions had to be made, decisions about my future with Alpha Beta Omega.

  Chapter Twenty

  Jill

  A break proved to be exactly what I needed. Being home gave me time to think, and my parents being the amazing people they are, gave me the time I needed to mourn, even if they thought my tears were caused by the end of a relationship and not someone I loved more than I had given myself a chance to comprehend. When I came back to campus after that short week away, I had a better sense of what I needed to move forward. I’d planned to talk to Ginger as soon as I put my stuff up.

  Portia was in our room, eating takeout on her bed.

  “Hey! How was your Thanksgiving?”

  “We celebrate it in October in Canada. But it was nice to go home.”

  “Oh. Well, was there food at least?”

  “There is always food.”

  “You want to try some of this? We stopped at this Jamaican place on our way back.” I thought about saying no and getting on with what I needed to do. I still had to prepare for class. As a survivor, I’d gotten a pass from the chancellor’s office. I could have stayed home for the rest of the semester, but I had already studied too hard to skip finals. I was earning my 4.0. But I was hungry, and Portia had been pretty nice to me.

  I sat on her
bed and took a forkful of oxtails and rice. “Oh. That is good.”

  “Hey, Jill.” I looked up as Ava knocked on our doorframe. “Bridgette’s downstairs.”

  “Back for more,” Portia commented absently, but I couldn’t speak or move.

  “You heard me, right? Your girlfriend is downstairs.”

  “I thought you guys broke up,” Portia said.

  “Oh yeah, didn’t you?” Ava said.

  “I—uh—yeah. We broke up. Are you sure it’s her?”

  “I mean I’ve seen her before and I’ve talked to her before, and just now, the darnedest thing, she comes to the door and says is Jill around? Can you tell her Bridgette’s here?”

  “You want me to get her to kick rocks?” Portia asked with a little too much excitement in her eyes. She probably thought she owed Bridgette for all the nights I’d cried her out of the room. That would have been fine and good if it made the slightest bit of sense. One, Tokyo was dead. Two, it was two in the afternoon and the sun was very much out and shining, even if it was really chilly. There was also the small issue of Tokyo being dead. Her heart had turned to ash and her whole body crumbled to the same black and gray dust moments later. Dead. As in absolutely dead.

  “You gonna go down or…?”

  “Yeah. No. Yes, I’ll be right down. Thanks.”

  “You need backup?” Portia asked as I was putting my shoes back on. “Because I’ll let her know.”

  “No, I got this.” Whatever was going on did not need spectators.

  Walking down the stairs seemed impossible. I wanted to run, close this distance between us as fast as I could, but all I could anticipate was disappointment. What if it was a trick or a ghost or a super cruel prank? What if grief had driven me crazy and this was all happening in my mind? There was no one waiting for me. Just…

  Bridgette was standing in the foyer talking to Aleeka. Skinny jeans, high-top sneakers, and a Maryland University hoodie. Her hair was up in a messy bun, and she looked exhausted, like she hadn’t slept in days. Or like she’d been dead. I walked up to them. I stopped just close enough, close enough to kiss her face.

  “And she’s here. Talk to you later,” Aleeka said before she bounced away. She had no clue.

  “Hi,” she said. Same voice. Same face. Same height as me. Same sweet sincerity, but something was different about that sweetness. This time she would absolutely care which way I reacted. There was one thing she needed to hear from me. But she had some talking to do first.

  She watched me carefully, watched my hand as I reached between us and touched her fingers. They were cold, but normal cold like she’d just come from outside. Human cold.

  I didn’t cry, but a few tears leaked out of my left eye, then my right.

  “Can we go outside?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  She opened the door with familiarity, not like she was a visitor, and held it open for me.

  It was colder than I remembered, but the sun was still shining. The porch was in full shade, but she stepped out after me, closing the door, and then went for the stairs that were bathing her in bright rays of light. And nothing happened. I could see the different shades of brown in her hair.

  I sat down, then turned to face her. I needed to keep looking at her to know she was real. She looked up and wiped my face with her fingertips.

  “I died. I definitely died. All of that happened. I can’t tell you what happened after. What I saw, what I heard. I tried to tell Hattie, and my tongue physically can’t do it.”

  “Hattie knows you’re okay?”

  “Yeah, she came last night.”

  “Where? Where did you see her?”

  “Moreland’s. I still have my places, and my bank accounts are more like trust funds now, but I feel comfortable at Moreland’s.”

  My whole body was shaking, and my face was hot. I felt pressure in my stomach, my throat, behind my eyes. Sensation overload. Too much information all at once that didn’t make sense. “What’s going on?”

  “The best I can understand it, I got one last chance.”

  “At what exactly?” I asked.

  “Life? I’m not a vampire anymore, as you can see. No more fangs. No blood cravings.” She turned her hand palm up. “I can handle the sun just fine.” She made a fist. “But I can still do this.” The skin on her hand was suddenly covered in bright blue feathers. When she shook her arm, her hand went back to normal.

  “So did you take this form to trick the girls, so you could get close to me?”

  “This is my natural form. The real Miyoko. Body and soul forever mine to keep. I’m cute, huh?”

  “Yes, you are.”

  “I can vanish too, but—”

  “But what?”

  “I like walking during the day.”

  “Hmm. So you’re a witch.”

  She laughed. The same laugh. I leaned forward and covered my face, and then she did exactly what I wanted her to do, she put her arm around my back. She kissed the side of my head.

  “I’m mortal. Mortal with powers, but mortal. Mortal plus.”

  I laughed this time. “I like the way that sounds.” I looked up. Her eyes were so clear, bright brown in the sun.

  “I’m just a regular Japanese-American girl. Orphaned, but with friends all over the world. I’m dying, like normal people do, slowly, day by day, walking toward my true end. But I can feel you still.”

  “You can?”

  “Yeah. Right in my heart, still in my blood. I think that’s why they sent me back. For you, to be with you. I think this is my heaven.”

  “Oh, my goodness!” I covered my face again.

  “Too much? Do I need to ask a girl out on a regular date first before I tell a twenty-year-old I want to spend the rest of my life with her? That I’d die for her over and over again? More flowers and a six-pack of grape soda? We can start there.”

  “No, no. This is good. What will you do?”

  “Not sure yet. I don’t have to do anything, but I should. I told Moreland I want to.”

  “You’re bound to her?”

  “Yeah. I need—I need to stay connected. It feels safer. You? You feel—unattached.”

  “I am. I’m not sure if I want to go back, but I know what I know. I don’t want three years of my life gone if I say bye for good, and I don’t want to move out.”

  “Moreland always has room at her place, or just…with her.”

  “It’s not a bad idea. I like her. I’d pick her if I had the choice.”

  “You do.”

  “And us?”

  “That’s your choice too, baby.”

  “I choose you.” And then we were kissing. Softly. Slowly. Being gentle with each other for all the right reasons. Her cheeks were cold when I touched them, but now so were mine.

  “Have you told Ginger yet?”

  “No, but I will. With my powers, she’ll have to give me access to the house if I want to poof in and out to see you. Especially in the middle of the night. Say, if I have to help you with any more presentations.”

  “You want to go talk to her now?” I wanted to get the conversation over with, and I wanted Miyoko in my bed. She exhaled and slid her hand between my legs.

  “Soon. I just want to sit out here with you for a couple more minutes.”

  “We can do that.”

  “And then I’ll make you scream.”

  “We can do that too. I love you.”

  “I needed to hear that, baby. I love you too.”

  THE END

  About the Author

  Raised in Southern New Hampshire, Rebekah Weatherspoon now lives in Southern California. Before moving west, she received a BA in English literature with a concentration in Shakespearean works from the University of North Carolina at Charlotte.

  Rebekah Weatherspoon writes erotic romance, both paranormal and contemporary, New Adult and Adult. Her BDSM romance, At Her Feet, won the Golden Crown Literary Award for erotic lesbian fiction and most recently her novella, F
IT (#1 in the FIT Trilogy), won the Romantic Times Book Reviews Reviewers’ Choice Award for Best Erotica Novella. You can find out more about Rebekah and her books at www.rebekahweatherspoon.com.

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