My Soul Immortal (8 page)

A shockwave ripples through me, and I keep my mouth shut, because I’m not one hundred percent certain what might pour out if I open it.

Ed steps to my side. “No. Sorry. Sold our only copy a while back. I can probably find another one, but that’ll take time, maybe a month or even two.”

“Nuts. Today’s my sister’s birthday. Serves me right for procrastinating. She’s been looking for it for a while.” He grimaces.

My mouth falls open. I slam it shut. Out of all the books in the world, she wants that one.

“I probably could have the book for you in a few weeks. That will be the best I can promise,” Ed says. He walks out from behind the register.

Their conversation rambles, but my awareness of my surroundings weaves in and out as my thoughts retreat into the reasons why Leah might want this book. The one possibility I’ve established as unfeasible races into my mind.
Don’t even go there. She’s not her!
I cast off the thought, but not a single one takes its place.

“Hey, Jack,” Ed says, interrupting my jumbled thoughts. “I need you to write up an Internet order for
Ancient Fairy Tales,
by Jane MacLeary, then toss it on my desk so I don’t forget.”

I nod.
Thank God, Ed leaves the Internet searches to his own expertise instead of mine.
I chuckle.

The two men shake hands, and Ed heads for the back then calls over his shoulder, “I’ll let you know when I track one down.”

Grady leans back against the counter, his attention on Ed until he disappears from view. Then he turns to me, giving me the once-over again.

If Leah wants that book, then she’ll have it. Besides, I can get the information I need from her brother. “Look. I have that book. I bought it, but I haven’t even cracked it open. It’s yours if you want it.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

His perpetual smile widens. “That would be wicked awesome. Leah’s gonna freak. Thanks.”

“Not a problem. I can’t get it to you until after work, though.”

“That’s fine. Um, I hate to ask, but is there any way you could drop it off at my apartment? I’m attempting to cook Leah a birthday dinner, and I’m afraid I’ve bitten off a little more than I can chew. My apartment’s close, just over on Pearl Street.”

“Sure. I can swing by right after work. Around five thirty?”

“Perfect. It’s really nice of you. Thanks again.”

Before Grady leaves, he scribbles his address and phone number on the back of one of the store’s business cards. With a grateful wave, he darts out the double doors into the rain.

I glance at his scrawl.
Last name is Winters, huh. That’s a place to begin.

CHAPTER SIX

At 5:36, I climb the front stairs of Grady’s square, four-story apartment building, planning to drop off the book and then hit the library before closing time. I choose the yellow-lit button by G. Winters.

After a minute, maybe two, I ring the doorbell again.

“Hello?” a rushed voice answers.

“It’s Jack from Rare Books. I have a delivery for Grady Winters.”

A buzzer beckons me in. I take the stairs two at a time to the third floor. The door to 3A is cracked open, and a peculiar smell—a mixture of garlic and burnt tomatoes—drifts out into the hallway. The odor attacks my nose and stings my eyes.
Good thing he’s giving her the book.
I bump the door open a bit more. “Grady?”

“I’m in the kitchen.”

I follow the sound of clanging dishes down the narrow hallway. Family photos line the walls. Leah takes center stage, her life laid out across the slate-green. A little boy holds a sleeping baby in his arms. Graduations. Family outings. Camping. Fishing. Disney World. I notice her father is missing from most of them.
Probably taking the photos
, I surmise.

I can’t help but chuckle at one with Leah and Grady dressed as Beauty and the Beast for Halloween. Leah is all smiles and posing like a ballerina, holding her plastic jack-o’-lantern bucket above her head. Towhead ringlets cascade over her petite shoulders. She can’t be more than five. Grady looks less than thrilled, his arms folded across his chest, a scowl creasing his brow.

Still smiling, I step to the kitchen door and set the book on the table.

Grady wipes his hands on a wadded dishtowel, picks up the book, and thumbs through the pages. “This is awesome. How much do I owe you?”

“No worries. Come by the bookstore next week, and we can settle up.” My attention wanders along the counters, over heaps of dirty pots and pans. The kitchen looks like an EF5-tornado passed through. “You got your hands full. I’ll see myself out.”

“Hey, you should stay. I can’t guarantee the quality of the grub, but I got plenty.” He laughs.

Tempting. So tempting.
“I don’t want to intrude.”

“Come on. I owe you, and Leah will want to thank you for this,” he says and waves the book.

I’m about to agree when three quick knocks interrupt me.

“Oh, crap. She’s only early when I need her to be late.” Grady tosses me the book and rushes back to the stove.

“The man in 1B let me in. He was coming home with an armful of groceries, so I helped him upstairs. You better hide whatever you don’t want me to see,” Leah warns.

My heart pounds. I glance down, half expecting its pulsation to be visible through my shirt.
Nope.
I conceal the book behind my back as Leah walks in. Surprise floods her face.

“What are you doing here?” Her words rush out like a breeze, and she steps closer. Her blond hair is pinned up into a slipshod bun, leaving her graceful ivory neck exposed.

I flounder for words, and my voice cracks. “Just dropping off something for your brother.”
Great. Smooth.

“It’s another book, isn’t it?” Leah says with a huff as she looks around the kitchen. “Grady, you’re leaving soon. How many books do you think you can store in my cramped little dorm room? You really need to take them to Mom’s.”

“Actually, Jack’s delivering your birthday present. I was trying to talk him into staying for—crap!” Grady opens the oven, and smoke billows around him, swirling toward the ceiling. He removes a smoldering casserole dish and sets it on the stovetop.

The smoke alarm blares. After setting the book on the table, I rush to open the windows. The cool breeze is refreshing, relieving my burning eyes a little. I turn to see Leah waving a broom in front of the buzzing detector. Her blouse, which matches her eyes and hugs her form, inches upward. My eyes slide down her back, en route to…
Be a gentleman. Stick with the nape.
I study her for one more moment then tug my gaze away.

Disgruntled, Grady gapes at the briquette and pokes it with a fork. “I killed your birthday dinner.”

A sly smile plays across her lips, as if she’s fighting the urge to crack a joke.

“How about pizza?” Grady asks.

“Sounds great.” Leah looks to me. “You’ll stay, right?”

I nod. “Of course.”

After Grady orders a large pie, he drops next to Leah on the sofa, the book tucked under one arm. Leah peeks around him, her eyes sparkling with excitement. A ridiculous grin breaks across Grady’s face, and he clumsily hands Leah her gift. She glances over the yellowed pages with amazement, stops, and lets her finger trace over the vivid colors of an illustration. The painting depicts a fair-haired girl lying among a forest of green trees. A radiant golden butterfly hovers over her chest. The creature’s large translucent wings cover her. A man in a midnight cloak kneels at her side, his face hidden by his hands.

“It’s just like the one Gram had.”

“It’s not every day your little sister turns the ripe old age of eighteen. I wanted it to be special.”

“It is. Read it to me?” She offers the book to her brother. A look I don’t understand flickers across Leah’s eyes.

“I can’t very well deny the request of the birthday girl, can I?”

Their relationship reminds me of the one I had with my sister, Ruth. My secret bonded us; she was the only member of my family who knew I couldn’t die.

“I haven’t read to you since…” His voice falls silent, and his expression hardens, as if he’s recalling a bad memory. “Which story would you like?”

“Olluna and the Golden Butterfly,” she says.

I bite my tongue. This was Lydia’s favorite story.

“Should’ve guessed.” Grady chuckles and begins, his voice deepened to add drama.

The words flow verbatim through my head…

Long ago, in a cottage at the northern edge of the Black Woods, there lived two sisters. The older was named Olluna, and the younger, named Catia. The two sisters loved each other very much. Years past, Catia grew old, but Olluna never lost her bloom, not aging one day past her youth. Her hair stayed the soft gold color of the fields. Her bright eyes were the color of the sea. To Olluna’s great sorrow, Catia became sick and soon died. But Olluna did not. Instead, she lived many years past her sister, always longing for the day she would be reunited with Catia.

On her one-hundredth birthday, Olluna decided to venture to a nearby town to buy herself some plum tarts, for they were her favorite, and she hadn’t had one in a very long time. ‘No one will know me after so many years,’ she said while walking down the curvy country road toward the town’s gate. Within the little walled city, life was busy and captivating. So different from the lonely life Olluna had grown accustomed to. Soon, she noticed a white-haired woman bent over from extreme age following her from shop to shop.

Finally, the old woman spoke, pointing her crooked finger at Olluna. “I know you. You are Olluna of the Black Woods.”

Olluna shook her head.

“I may be old, and my eyesight weak, but I recognize you. You cannot fool me,” the old woman said. “We played as young girls, and you came to my wedding. But how can it be that you have not aged? Unless you are a witch?”

The townspeople gathered around Olluna, whispering among themselves, and the old woman continued to chant, “Witch, witch, witch!” Believing that Olluna must indeed be a witch, the people picked up stones to do Olluna harm.

“Leave this place,” they cried, “and never come back.”

Fearing for her life, Olluna ran from the town, left her home, and took refuge in the Black Woods. As night fell over the forest, Olluna grew afraid. She had heard many stories, all frightening, about what lived within these borders. Shouts from the townspeople forced Olluna deeper and deeper into the woods. When she could walk no more, she curled up to sleep within the hollow trunk of an oak.

With the sun, Olluna woke. A beautiful forest, green and lush, stretched out around her. The sight gave her peace from her nighttime fears. Days blended into nights, and she drifted through the Black Woods, not knowing where to go or what to do. Artagan, the son of Death, clad in a black cloak given him by his father, saw Olluna and approached her.

Out of fear that the childhood stories were indeed true, Olluna collapsed to her knees and cried, “Oh, please, oh, please, do not eat me.”

Artagan, surprised by the girl’s reaction, removed his hood, revealing to her that he was no more than a man. His eyes were caring. His voice showed kindness. “You are in no danger from me. Are you lost, child?”

“No, sir. I’ve hidden in the Black Woods. Everyone in the town wants me dead. They think I’m a witch, for I am one hundred years old.” With that, Olluna began to cry.

“Don’t weep, my fair one. My name is Artagan. I am the son of Death, but I do not know your name and mean you no harm.”

“If you are who you say, do you know when I will see my dear sister again? For I have lived a long life and wish to go to heaven and be with her.”

But Artagan would not answer her question.

As the days passed, Artagan taught Olluna how to build a fire, where to find water, and which berries she could eat. Each night before she fell asleep, Olluna pleaded with Artagan to answer her question, but he refused.

Over time, Artagan fell more in love with Olluna. Every evening, he found it harder to deny Olluna her request, for he would have given her the sun and the moon if she had asked for them.

One night, Olluna grew angry. “If you care for me even a little, how can you be so cruel? Answer my pleas. Will I ever see my dear sister again?”

Artagan could no longer deny her, so he answered, “No, my fair one, you will never die. You will live forever, safe with me in the Black Woods, because there is no one else I love.”

“I don’t want to live forever,” she cried, weeping in distress. “Leave me be.”

Brokenhearted, Artagan left her alone in the forest. Late that night, men from the town who had tracked Olluna into the Black Woods found her. They chased her up into the mountains.

As she ran, Olluna cried out, “Artagan, where have you gone? Come save me, and I will love you forevermore.”

But Artagan was far away and did not hear her pleas. The angry men chased Olluna to the edge of a great white bluff and surrounded her. They pushed Olluna from the cliff. She fell, but survived, leaving her body broken below. Though she could not die, with her tears, she begged for Death to come.

Artagan returned to where he had left Olluna. Finding her gone, he searched the entire forest. Near dawn, he found her at the foot of the cliff. Cradled in his arms, Olluna pleaded with him to let her die. Artagan loved her so much that he granted her request.

As Olluna lay dying, Artagan began to sing:

Golden wings will come to take thee

Eternal slumber closes round thee

Forever in Death’s arms

My heart forevermore your keeping

My soul for you always weeping

Close your eyes, love, time for sleeping

Forever in Death’s arms

With you, my love, I long to be

All eternity always with thee

Forever in Death’s arms

My heart forevermore your keeping

My soul for you always be weeping

Close your eyes, love, time for sleeping