02 Awaken-The Soulkeepers

by Adams, Lori

  “It never occurred to me to ask him,” I say, and he nods.

  “Yeah, gotta keep him outta your green room. Need your head free and clear of all debris.”

  My green room; that sweet space inside the tube where every surfer likes to linger. Yeah, well, easier said than done.

  I couldn’t have been more prophetic. An hour later, Rama and I have made little progress on my journey to enlightenment. Seeing Dante again has affected me more than I care to admit. It’s impossible to concentrate, so we give up and head to the barn. I’m becoming rather adept at sneaking out of the house; Bailey would be proud.

  When we arrive, Raph is waiting, along with Kanati and Chang`e. I’m grateful they stuck around to give me a second chance. Raph, I see, has been pacing and singing my praises in an attempt to coax them into staying.

  I walk over and say, “Hiya” and “O si yo” and “Nǐ hǎo.” They return the greetings, and then Raph says, “So, how are you?” and I say, “Defiantly optimistic, and you?” He smiles and backs off, giving us room to work. I face Kanati and Chang`e.

  “Look, I’m really sorry for bailing like I did. I was going through something and … well, I understand your time is valuable. It won’t happen again.” They are apprehensive but agree to stay if I’m truly committed. I assure them that I am. No more doubts. So we continue, picking up where we left off.

  The physical training is punishing and painful. If the wear and tear on my body alone isn’t enough, Chang`e snaps her silk whip and walks a circle around me as I pound out push-ups, pull ups, and climb up and down the tree. She is a graceful drill sergeant, telling me my body must be transformed into a weapon. I must think I am lethal, deadly. I must kill without hesitation. I agree on a basic level, but since I’ve never actually engaged in hand-to-hand combat with a demon or reaper or soul seeker, it’s hard to rouse those killer instincts.

  I become distracted with thoughts of Dante. I wonder if Michael and his family know that he’s back. I’m guessing not yet. As far as I know, Dante hasn’t made an appearance in town, and Vaughn is chilling at the mansion. Dante admitted his reason for returning was purely for me; he has no plans to stalk anyone. The good people of Haven Hurst should be safe. I certainly feel safe. I’m in control and won’t be taken in by Dante’s ultra-smooth Italian seduction techniques like before. Besides, the last thing I want to do is run to Michael and ask for protection. I have to prove to him that I can take care of myself. And what better way than to deal with a couple of notorious demons on my own?

  My internal pep talk does little good when my muscles are ripping and my legs are crying uncle. It’s nearly midnight when I creep back to bed.

  * * *

  I have set my alarm for five o’clock—as in the a.m. Ugh. My training is not only sucking the life out of me, but all my homework time. I need to snag a few hours of homework time before school starts.

  As I lie in bed where I collapsed in a heap, I contemplate quitting my job at the Gazette. It actually doesn’t take up too much time, and I’m still responsible for taking photos for the school newspaper, so it wouldn’t matter much if I did. Not to mention that I love my job. I’m not a fan of attending every athletic event, but I do love taking photos. It’s one of the highlights of my day.

  The only good thing about being so busy is not thinking about Michael every minute of the day. There are a few moments when my head is down and I’m so deep into an assignment that I forget my second heartbeat is missing; I forget that the heart left behind has shattered like glass and stabs my insides. And then I take a breath and the pain cuts deeper.

  I cry myself to sleep, again.

  When I wake hours later, it’s not to the church bell alarm on my cell phone but to the familiar twinkling lullaby of Dante’s music box. I sit up and there he is, reclined in my desk chair with his legs out and ankles crossed. He is wearing fresh, unbloodied clothes and a lazy smile.

  “Buongiorno, cara mia,” he says, and I clutch the bedsheet over my chest.

  “What are you doing here?” I demand. The room is dim because it’s early but I see the flash of white teeth as he laughs.

  “I am waiting for you to wake up,” he says cheerfully, and then comes over and sits on the bed.

  I look around for Sundance but he is AWOL. He doesn’t like demons in my bedroom any more than I do. “You can’t be here,” I say, nudging him with my foot under the blankets. He slips a hand under and captures my foot, and I stop. We stare while he gently messages my foot, his hot hand working to relax the muscles. It’s far too intimate a thing, and I become aware that I’m wearing only a skimpy tank top and panties.

  His eyes stay on mine while his hand glides up my leg. His heat stirs my blood, and I feel it rushing through my veins. I hate that he provokes such a physical reaction in me. My head is perfectly clear and focused, and yet my body betrays me like an addict.

  “Dante, don’t,” I murmur with a catch in my voice. He laughs quietly but withdraws, satisfied with his effect on me. “A little too early in the morning for smoldering Italians, don’t you think?” I pull my knees up and wrap the blankets around me.

  “ ‘Smoldering’?” Dante repeats with pleasant surprise. “Am I a smoldering Italian, Sophia?”

  Oh, we are so not going there.

  I clear my throat. “So anyway, why are you waiting for me to wake up?”

  He grins, letting me off the hook, and then moves around the room, opening dresser drawers and rifling through my clothes. “Well, I was anxious to get started. What shall we do today? And what is this torturous device?” He dangles something at me with his fingertips.

  “My bra. And what do you mean, ‘What shall we do today?’ ” I tap my cell phone; the clock reads 5:45 and I explode. “Damnit, Dante! Did you cancel my alarm?” All modesty aside, I toss the covers and climb out of bed. I stomp to my desk and slam the music box shut. Then I check the clock on my laptop to verify the time; I’m almost an hour late. I turn around, furious. “How could you do that? I have things to do! And now I don’t have time to—What?”

  Dante lowers the clothes in his arms and cocks an eyebrow. His face is flushed and he’s staring down at my panties.

  Ah, shit!

  I march over and yank on the sweats in his hands. He grins, not letting them go so we tug back and forth.

  “Dante, please!” I say and he releases them, laughing at my embarrassment. “And stop laughing! You’ve messed everything up today by cancelling my alarm.”

  “I wish I could take credit,” he murmurs, tilting his head to watch me get dressed. “But, unfortunately, I have no earthly idea how to navigate your cellular machinery.”

  I consider him with a critical eye. He’s probably telling the truth. As I remember, Dante was lucky to handle the Lamborghini that Wolfgang insisted they buy. He never seemed interested in technology. “Well, anyway, I have an essay I should’ve been working on and a test this morning. Now I don’t have time to work on either.”

  “Why are you bothering with all these mundane lessons? Come away with me. I am sure I could educate you on a thing or two.”

  I think he’s teasing, but then again, probably not. He looks too serious to be taken seriously. “I don’t want to go off with you, Dante. I want to graduate.”

  “Then you have taken my advice? You are no longer training to become a spirit walker?”

  “No, I did not take your advice. Yes, I am still training to become a spirit walker. And if you’re here to tell me, again, that I can’t do it, you can leave. I mean, you should leave anyway. It’s not right that you’re here. I don’t want Dad to find you.”

  “He is still asleep. And I don’t want you to complete your Awakening. It’s far too dangerous.”

  “So I’ve been told. Repeatedly.” I search the room for fresh clothes, bumping him out of the way and loading my arms.

  “Sophia, how do you think I knew about your Awakening?” he says, following me.

  I stop and think. Hmm, who would
have told him? “Good question. I have no idea.” I dive into my drawer, but he pulls me around, forcing my attention. He is suddenly furious.

  “The moment I was dragged back to Hell, I was locked in the Death Bunker!” he grinds out. “I had no contact from anyone on the surface. So how do you think I learned about your Awakening? How?” He shakes me but it doesn’t produce an answer. I have no idea. “The Order, Sophia. The Order of Reapers knows about your Awakening. Lord Brutus is the highest member of The Order, and he made a point of telling me himself. They have already sent demons to turn you dark the moment you reach your enlightened state.”

  I stare, dumbfounded. The idea that evil entities from below know my personal business is unnerving and frightening as … well, as Hell.

  “How did The Order find out about me?”

  Dante deliberates answering but decides against it. He’s keeping something from me.

  I feel my anger simmering just below the surface. “So let me get this straight. You won’t tell me how The Order found out about my Awakening, only that they’ve sent demons to turn me dark? Demons like … you, Dante?” I sound accusing, and Dante releases me, stepping back. He doesn’t like the implication.

  “No, Sophia. Not like me. As far as I know, there is not another demon in the world who is in love with you.”

  “Oh,” I say quietly, caught off guard. I’m embarrassed; that’s not what I meant and he knows it. I absently pull a sock from the drawer and add it to my pile. He’s watching and waiting for me to say something.

  “What kind of demons, then?” I mumble, and he says, “Lesser demons. Not Knights. They are ruthless and unpredictable and without the scruples of demons from the Royal Court.”

  “Scruples!” I scoff. “You’re telling me demons have scruples?”

  “Some do. As hard as it is to believe. Yes. Some do.” I suppose he wants me to include him in that category but I’m not so sure. I narrow my eyes and study him. He seems earnest enough.

  “What, exactly, do you want with me, Dante? Tell me why you’re really here.” I’m beginning to doubt that he escaped the Death Bunker, after all. From what I’ve heard, no one ever has. For all I know, Lord Brutus sent Dante here to pretend to be in love with me, just to get close and turn me dark the moment my Chelsea Light begins to glow.

  Dante lowers his chin and speaks slowly, methodically. “I am here to stop you from fulfilling your Awakening. I am here to protect you from any lesser demons who try to harm you. And I am here to ensure that you remember our past life together.”

  I consider him with cool indifference. He might be telling the truth, but it hardly matters. I don’t trust him.

  “And I won’t stop my Awakening. I’ll defend myself against these so-called lesser demons, and I … don’t want any of your memories. I’m sorry, Dante, but it’s my decision, after all.” I go to the door, where I hope to escape to the bathroom for a quick shower that’ll clean away all these negative feelings.

  “And what does Michael Patronus have to say about your Awakening?” Dante asks, and I stop with my hand on the doorknob. I won’t turn around. I won’t let him provoke me.

  “Don’t be here when I come back,” I say, and walk out.

  * * *

  Since it’s too late for homework and my morning is shot, I take a long soothing shower. The water is scorching hot and punishing. Somehow, the pain feels deserved. I go over everything Dante said, the most disturbing is knowing that lesser demons are roaming Haven Hurst undetected. How do you recognize a lesser demon? Are they like normal people but with cheap cologne? Bad comb-overs? Eighties fashion sense? Is there an age limit or health restriction? I really don’t know what I’m working with here.

  As I towel off and pull on jeans and a sweatshirt, I realize I should’ve pumped Dante for information before kicking him out. I should use him like a cheat sheet—anything to stay alive and off the demonic radar, right?

  I dry my hair and then pad down the hallway in my socks. I open the bedroom door and halt. Dante is still there, lounging across my bed and propped up on his elbow. He is not alone.

  Bailey is sitting next to him with wide doe eyes. If a picture paints a thousand words, Bailey’s face is the unabridged edition. She has a look of sheer wonder, that fresh I just hit the lottery expression.

  Shit.

  I shut the door and glare at Dante. “What did you do?” I demand.

  Bailey jumps up and rushes to me. “Is it true?” she bursts out. “What he told me? Is it true, Soph? Tell me!”

  I look around her and see Dante’s crafty smile. “What did he tell you?”

  She spills the secret of the millennium. Dante and Vaughn are demons, and Dante and I have a past life together.

  “That’s not true,” I say, and Bailey steps back. She is confused and looks at Dante. He’s still sporting his crafty smile, but now he makes his eyes glow neon yellow. Bailey gasps and whirls around to me. Dante breaks out laughing and I fume.

  “Yeah, well, I meant the part about sharing a past life.” I plop down at my desk while Bailey dances around the room like it’s a Wiccan festival.

  I brush my hair in hard, angry strokes, and then stop and yell at him. “I thought it was forbidden to tell people!”

  “I escaped from the Death Bunker, Sophia. There’s not much more they can do to me.”

  Oh. I slump and chew my lip, thinking. Then I remember how I might actually need him for information. I probably shouldn’t upset him, too much.

  Bailey flops across the bed, next to Dante. She rolls over to stare dreamily at the ceiling and starts babbling on about Vaughn being back in town, how she can’t wait to see him again. Can’t wait to tell him she knows about his evil little society.

  Leave it to Bailey to equate demons and Hell to some exclusive fraternity.

  “Did you compel her to behave like that?” I demand.

  Dante chuckles. “No, that’s all her.”

  He gives me a magnanimous smile, and I feel like we’re playing chess and I’ve been outmaneuvered. He makes his next move, inviting me and Bailey to spend the day in New York City. “Whatever you would like to do. I am happy to please you.”

  Bailey bolts upright, jazzed at the idea. “Yes! As long as Vaughn goes, too, right?”

  Dante says, “Of course,” and I say, “No thanks. I’m behind on my classes. And, as both of you are now aware, I have my training with Rama Kuan. I’m not missing another session.”

  Dante and I stare off. I won’t back down, so he speaks to Bailey instead. “You should not let Sophia miss out on her last year of high school with all this Awakening business.”

  Now I understand why Dante revealed his identity to Bailey; he’s using her to tag-team me into quitting. I squint at him and smile. “Look at you, getting all sneaky and human.”

  He posts an innocent look. “I just don’t know how you will manage it, Sophia: graduate high school and complete your Awakening. There doesn’t seem to be enough hours in the day. Too bad you can’t be in two places at one time.”

  I smirk. “Yeah, too bad.” Actually, he has a point, and I’m starting to feel the academic pressure boiling inside me. We’re going to be late if we don’t leave now.

  I look at Bailey but she seems lost in thought for once. I’m not sure she’s been listening.

  I grab my phone, books, and Bailey, and we leave Dante alone in my room. Then I poke my head back inside with a few parting words. “By the way, if you talk to my Dad, like, ever, I will never speak to you again. Capisci?”

  Dante nods reverently. “I understand, Sophia.”

  Chapter 15

  A Mad Russian’s Roulette

  All throughout school, Bailey is hyper beyond her normal sugar high and won’t tell me the reason why. I suspect she is overjoyed to learn that her dark love interest, aka, Vaughn Raider, really is hotter than Hell.

  “Au contraire,” she says, dumping seventy-five pounds of knowledge into her locker. She gives me her Cheshire cat grin.
“You don’t think you’re the only one who’s good at keeping secrets, do you?”

  Oh Lord. Do I want to know?

  She won’t explain but continues to tease me with cryptic remarks all the way to the square. We part company at the café where she joins our friends, and I schlep off to work. I can stay only an hour so I get busy. Miss Minnie reminds me of tonight’s assignment. I have forgotten.

  “The first event of the season,” she says with a crunchy frown. It seems odd that, between the two of us, I am the one always forgetting things. “The tree-lighting ceremony and the Turn On Your Santa show.”

  Ah, it’s all coming back to me now.

  I tap my phone and bring up my calendar, checking the long list of assignments. Damn, it’s gonna be a tight fit to make this work. I start calculating how much time I can allot to each homework assignment between my sessions with Rama and the demon hunters. Not much.

  But I’m determined, so I dive into work. Miss Minnie has extended my duties of photographer to include copyediting. It seems I’m not the only one with a faulty memory. LeRoy, Miss Minnie’s brother, has become rather creative in the spelling department. He refuses to touch a computer since he lost a slew of files a few months ago, and now writes his column of historical tidbits in longhand. I do my best to translate. I am now fluent in gibberish. It takes a good forty-five minutes before I’m done and dismissed. But I do come away with a better understanding of the history of Haven Hurst.

  Rama is waiting in my room when I get home. He has lit soothing candles, softened the lights, and arranged pillows on the floor. We’re free of demon intrusions and get right to work. As we settle into a peaceful state of meditation and I’m free of all distractions, he tells me to search for my soul. Within me is the soul and within the soul is all the wisdom of the world. The spiritual realm I’m seeking is the inner life of my soul. Everything I need to know and need to use on my journey is within me. I must not fear it or the power it brings. I must embrace the light radiating behind my closed eyelids and let it expand within me.