Soul Stealer (5 page)

Every inch of the room was revealed as bright as day.  She was alone.

The goose pimples on her skin wouldn’t go away. She rubbed her hands up and down on her arms, trying to warm herself. It’d been a long time since she’d felt that feeling of dread. Usually she would think she was being paranoid. But sometimes, like now, Iola couldn’t help but take it very seriously.

It had happened once before.

The man in the hospital had a strange flavor to his energy. Not entirely human. Something else mixed with that vitality. Something he’d never known before. But it had been an extra
boost
of sorts.

Interesting.

He felt like he’d maybe had about two souls in one. What a time-saver that was.

His molecules, at times, could wander. It was another problem with trying to focus and solidify. Until he was solid form it would be a constant battle to keep his “shit” together, so to speak.

But every ion of him had come to attention like the ringing of a tuning fork with the hospitalized man. He was a pure soul, almost like energy, blood and meat in a single shot. His phantom jaws were aching with the need to bite something.

Soon,
he soothed himself.
Soon you will be able to eat and not just feed.

The man’s head had been filled with terrible things he’d done, but the soul was clean. He’d been absolved of the sins somehow, and in his own personal experience that meant he was a
decipio
or
frustro
. Good to know.

Then, as he drifted on metaphysical trade winds, attempting to find a decent soul this late at night in this God-forsaken city, he’d caught scent of another soul, likely of the same vintage as the man in the hospital, but so much stronger.

He found her in one of the modern palaces of glass and stone, sitting in a dark room in front of glowing screens.

She’d felt him, known he was there before he even tried to get in. And her will had thrown him into pieces, scattering him in all directions.

He wasn’t scared.

Now he had her scent. He could find her later if he wanted. Just taking her soul would be a terrible waste; she should be fully savored.

He had a feeling that her flesh would be incredibly special and luscious.

Chapter Five

Muhammad Saleem Rana awoke with a start, not sure which part of the nightmare had been responsible for scaring him out of sleep.

He ran a hand over his face, rubbing the weariness from his eyes as he sat up. The television was on, sound low. He flicked it off as he raised himself up to his full six-foot-three frame, stretching his arms up, feeling the pull in his shoulders and back. Diego Jimenez had taken it easy on him in the ring and in the gym today because he knew Saleem wasn’t eating or drinking during daylight hours. But the muscle aches were as good as a massage. He groaned, then crossed the floor in bare feet to get a glass of water from the kitchen sink.

He should really eat. The sun had gone down, it was allowed. Working out and Ramadan didn’t really mix well. Maybe that’s where the dreams came from.

His heart had stopped its triple-time cadence, but his skin still felt electric. What the hell had been in that dream?

He’d been jogging, and at first he thought he’d been out for a jog in a weird city or town he’d never visited. The jog turned into running. Fear. An unknown predator in the shadows behind him.

He went back to the living room with the water, putting it back on the coffee table next to the open laptop that had gone into sleep mode around the same time he had. He moved the external mouse to wake it, then looked up to see what he actually had on the TV anyway. A rerun of The Office; the one with the George Foreman grill.

His laptop came to life, and he looked back at the websites he’d brought up. Many tabs open along the top of his browser window. There were obviously other ways to find out more about the Islamic faith, but he still wanted to find out what he could all by himself.  He was embarrassed at his own ignorance.

He had no idea what had made this come to mind. Maybe he was having a crisis of faith. Even though he came from a Muslim background, when his parents’ parents had moved here they’d become the Islamic equivalent of casual Christians. A general belief in wrong and right, but as far as an actual formal method of worship: no. They didn’t observe Ramadan. He’d never actually seen a Qur’an. He was named Muhammad Saleem out of respect to his grandparents’ faith but his parents’ dedication fell by the wayside.

He went by Saleem. It made people more comfortable than Muhammad. And since more and more people were living in the city with the same background he had, he never felt any direct bias. People weren’t sure what he was. They could guess at his ethnicity from his dark coloring, prominent brow, hooked nose. But they were never sure, and once he spoke and sounded exactly like them, they looked past it all. He was one of the club.

It shouldn’t ha
ve felt like a lie. But lately he was feeling like he was somehow letting someone down. Someone that he had cared about very much.

His brother had died in a car accident eighteen months ago; his younger brother. The very thought of him was enough to tighten Saleem’s chest, make him squeeze his eyes closed, willing himself to not get upset. His crisis of conscience was not coming out of nowhere; that was a lie he told himself. He may have gotten past being angry, but now he was looking for a why.

Abraham had been only 18 when he was killed by a drunk driver. Freshly graduated, good at sports, liked by girls. Quick to laugh. Almost the polar opposite of Saleem. Saleem had envied his brother that charm and social ability: he had none of those qualities himself. He was quiet. He never knew what to say when meeting new people. He never knew why people should want to get to know him.

That wasn’t Abraham at all. His group of friends and activities and interests were so varied. If his graduating class was picking a “most likely to always be popular and succeed” candidate, his brother would have won it.

He wiped his face and found he was crying. The mere thought of Abraham still sliced him deeply. He was having trouble letting go, and he knew it wasn’t healthy. But his parents weren’t much help. They’d just wanted to send him to “talk to a professional,” but he wanted to talk to them. To sit down and remember and share stories and then move on.

But his parents would not. They had always been distant. The day after the funeral they’d cleaned out Abraham’s room, taken down all his photos. Saleem could have almost sworn he’d imagined his brot
her, that he was never real.

Saleem shut the laptop. He had to eat. He had to take it easy. Fasting for a month was exhausting and he wasn’t even halfway through it yet.

So he spent the remainder of his evening eating chicken breast with steamed vegetables, watching TV and laughing at Rainn Wilson and Steve Carell.

If she didn’t know any better she’d swear she was nursing a hangover. Instead, Claudia had just gotten home from an abbreviated shift that still managed to feel like the longest work night of her life.

She dropped her jeans and T-shirt to the floor as soon as she made it inside. She never wore her uniform when coming or going to work: the duffle bag it was stuffed in hit the ground moments before her street clothes. She headed for the bathroom to crank on the shower. The room was full of steam before she climbed in under the spray. There was an empty space on the rack where Megan’s body wash had sat for a couple months. She’d taken everything with her the last time she’d been here. Had their last night together been a goodbye fuck? Had she planned the break-up so specifically that she spent the night then took all her “accoutrements” while Claudia was gone to work?

Claudia rubbed her eyes, ignoring the fact that she was crying. She was going to be raw for quite a while. This wasn’t just a break-up, not now.

She may have gotten in the shower but she couldn’t be bothered to wash her hair or do more than stand under the spray, completely zoned out. She could have been there for five minutes or a full hour; it felt like it could have been either-or. When her skin was red she turned off the taps and toweled off. The apartment was refreshingly cool as she stepped out of the bathroom; it felt wonderful.

She pulled on flannel pants and a T-shirt then settled on the couch with a dog-eared copy of The Stand. It was very long, she’d read it many times, but she usually got so lost it took her twenty minutes to get back into the narrative again.

She heard the fire door at the end of the hall click open, and she looked at the clock reflexively. Sure enough, it was about time for Iola to come home. Not staying with Doctor Love tonight?

That was bitchy. Claudia immediately felt bad.

She was surprised when a gentle rap sounded on the door. She got to her feet, checking out the peephole before opening the door. Her lovely neighbor stood in the hall, eyes red and puffy.

Claudia’s heart dropped. “Iola? What’s wrong?”

“I got a call at work. Jasper died.”

Claudia frowned. “McKay’s dead?”

She nodded and started off a fresh round of weeping. Claudia drew Iola in to her apartment, shut the door and then hugged her friend to her chest.

“He was having some kind of fit, they gave him something to calm down, and then he just … died. In his sleep.”

Claudia had a very different opinion of Jasper than Iola did. Claudia clearly remembered Jasper trying to rape her, and that whole “the devil made me do it” alibi didn’t impress her in the least. Iola seemed to not remember anything at all, and she believed that Jasper was sorry for everything he’d done. Then again, Iola was a gentle soul and if she’d been there when he shot himself she could have had tears for Hitler.

“I’m sorry, hon. You going to be okay?”

Iola nodded, her cheek pressed to Claudia’s chest. “I’m sorry. I know he was terrible, and he did wrong but … when someone you know dies …”

“I know honey. It’s sweet you can care about him. You’re a good person.”

Claudia held her friend for a few long moments, noting when Iola had calmed down and was no longer crying. She gave her a final squeeze then let go and stepped back.

“I have bad news too. My girlfriend broke up with me today – sorry, yesterday, technically. And tonight we found her dead at a nightclub.”

Iola’s mouth dropped open in shock. “Wha … what?”

Claudia nodded, trying to ignore the prickly feeling in her nose that was a precursor to all-out bawling. Iola held her arms open again and Claudia lost the fight. Now she was sobbing, her whole body shaking as tiny Iola wrapped her up in a hug that felt big enough to make the world right.

“She seemed like a nice girl,” Iola said carefully. Claudia knew her friend hadn’t liked Megan much. Well, hadn’t really known her, actually. Megan didn’t like hanging out with Claudia’s friends.

She only had one friend outside of work, come to think of it. Megan had been a bit of a bitch, hadn’t she?

That didn’t make her feel any better, but Iola was rubbing her back in circles. Claudia was kind of huddled over the petite woman, her back bent awkwardly. But the affection felt wonderful.

After a moment Claudia straightened, sniffling and wiping her eyes, trying to avoid Iola’s gaze. “You’re not at Vinnie’s?”

“He’s working a double shift and … I didn’t want to be alone.”

“I understand. You wanna sleep over?”

Iola cocked her head to the side. “How long has it been since we’ve done that?”

Claudia shrugged, wanting to say
Four months, three weeks and two days,
but settled for “Can’t remember. A while, anyway.”

“I’ll go get into my PJs.”

Following the Incident That No One Could Remember, there had been nights where Vinnie worked and Claudia didn’t when she’d be woken by a knock at the door. It was always Iola, scared to fall asleep on her own. So she’d crawl into bed next to Claudia like teenagers at a sleepover. It killed Claudia, quite honestly. She was still in love with Iola, but that was
her
problem. Iola needed a friend.

She tied her hair into a ponytail and got a second pillow from the hall closet, giving the pillowcase a sniff to make sure it didn’t smell
closety
. It seemed fine to her so she plopped it down on the opposite side of the bed and started tidying up all the crap she’d dropped by the front door. By then Iola was back at the door in flannel pants and a tank top.

It was too late to sit up, share popcorn and talk. They were both exhausted, and yet when they fell in to bed and Claudia switched off the lamp, she couldn’t sleep. Her eyes were wide open, staring at a ceiling she couldn’t even see. Her heart was beating too loud. She couldn’t calm down enough to even think about closing her eyes.

She felt Iola flop over on her side, sighing. She smiled. They were both insomniacs tonight, apparently.

“You up?” Iola asked on another sigh.

“Yep.”

Iola paused. “Vinnie’s asking me to move in with him.”

Claudia closed her eyes at that. She knew this was coming. Those two were not just some fling; two people who got off on each other and were always on the verge of moving onto someone else. They were going to get married, have kids.

Her eyes stung again. That feeling of falling over an edge returned, making her heart race. Everyone was leaving her behind. Megan went somewhere she couldn’t follow. She’d lose Iola next. Even Damien –

She blinked. Why the hell was she even thinking of him?

“Claudia?”

“Yeah, I’m with you.”

“It scares me … thinking of leaving this place.”

This dump? “How come?”

“It’s a big step. It’s a … commitment.”

“You two are in love though, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So … were you hoping he’d just want to play boyfriend and girlfriend?”

Iola sounded lost and uncertain. “I don’t know. Maybe. Or just until … it was my idea, too.”

“You’re not there yet?”

“I don’t think so.”

Claudia sighed, closing her eyes. This wasn’t her big chance to make a move on her neighbor. She needed to be a great friend. “That’s okay. He’s a nice guy … just tell him you’re not ready. He’ll understand – you know he will.”

Iola sighed next to her. Claudia could feel it on her shoulder. “I don’t want to hurt him. I don’t want to lose him …”

She started crying again. Claudia waited a moment, but Iola didn’t stop. So she sat up and pulled her friend over in that weird sideways hug, rubbing her arm as she did so.

“Hey, he’s crazy about you. He’ll wait. I know it.”

“There must be something wrong with me. He’s perfect. Why am I … hesitating? I should be pressuring him to get married before he gets bored of me.”

“He’s not going to. You guys are perfect. It’s actually quite sickening.” She made sure Iola could hear the smile in her voice.

Iola sat up, giving a little chuckle. “It’s a curse.”

Claudia pressed her hands in to the mattress to settle onto her back, and as she did Iola took hold of her hand. “Thank you, Claudia. You’re … you’re my best friend, you know that?”

“I know hon.”

Iola cuddled next to her, and that did nothing to ease the ache out of her chest. Iola was so small but she packed the heat of a compact super-space-heater. Iola was warmth incarnate, holding Claudia’s arm with her cheek on Claudia’s shoulder.