Soul Mates Page 17
“She wouldn’t let me out?”
“I don’t understand it. She said something about how you might never let her come back.”
“Oh.”
Jeremiah hugged Alannah and then kissed her gently, the way she liked.
“It’s okay,” he said. “We’re back together and we just have to make sure we stay that way.”
She hugged him back and nuzzled close to him.
Chapter 27
2020
That night, after they made love again, Jeremiah held Alannah close to him in the dark and gently meshed his fingers through her hair.
“I think we need a key,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
He nudged himself up onto an elbow so he could face her.
“I have to tell you something. It’s not good.”
Alannah was quiet for a moment and then said, “Do you still love me?”
“Always and forever.”
“Nothing else matters.”
Jeremiah wasn’t sure how to tell her, but he finally just blurted it out.
“Sometimes, Savannah pretends to be you. I didn’t know that until yesterday.”
“She does?”
He nodded and took hold of her hand. “She’s pretended to be you while making love.”
“What?”
She sat up in the bed, shaking her head slowly back and forth.
“This morning. I’m so sorry. I had no idea it wasn’t you.”
“Oh my God . . .”
Alannah pulled her hand away from Jeremiah, but then she must have realized it wasn’t his fault and she reached for him.
Silence hung in the air, and he didn’t know if he should say more or not. He decided the best thing would be to wait for her to digest the news and decide what more she wanted to know.
“How many times?”
“I don’t know. Once now. I think maybe a handful from when we were in Las Vegas.”
“That bitch. She never said a word in the diaries.”
“I know.”
They were both quiet again. Jeremiah reached over to hug her and was grateful to feel her return the hug.
“We need a key. A phrase. Some way for me to be sure it’s you and not her. If I hear you say it, I’ll know it’s you.”
He felt her nod while pressing against him.
“What should it be?” she asked.
“Something you’ll never forget. Something she would never say.”
“I know it.”
“That was fast!”
She pulled back and they looked into each other’s eyes. There was a smile on her face, but it looked forced. He wondered how long it would take for that to go away.
“Our key is ‘Always and forever.’”
He smiled.
They lay back down, and although it took a long time, they both eventually fell into a restless sleep.
* * *
Three hours later, the little boy took control of the body. He might only have a mind of a ten-year-old but he wasn’t stupid. He could emote as well as the girls, and although he didn’t have a clue as to exactly what was going on, he knew that Alannah had been in control and had been focused on some emotional issue.
Stupid girl.
It didn’t matter what her problem was. All that mattered was that she was so busy concentrating on something that she had forgotten about him.
Normally when the twins slept, the last thought they had before drifting off was about the body.
If they were comfortable letting the other twin take control, they mentally handed the steering wheel over as they fell asleep. If they wanted to maintain control, that was their last thought, and their subconscious mind kept a lock on the cerebrum so that the other twin stayed in the dungeon of the brain stem.
Luke Harrison was trapped there too.
Even when one twin voluntarily gave up control, he had still been locked out, mostly. He didn’t really understand why. Maybe because he was the intruder, and the brain didn’t easily hand over control to an outsider? He didn’t know and normally didn’t care. When he was in the brain stem, his mind was sluggish, and he couldn’t recognize the passage of time.
Tonight, though, Alannah had fallen asleep without locking the door.
Luke burst through, using every ounce of will power he could dredge up.
It worked. He blinked, looking out through the eyes of a twenty-eight-year-old girl. It was similar to how he’d taken control the week earlier.
Easier this time, he thought. He liked that.
Now Alannah was hibernating in the dungeon, along with Savannah, who had no idea of what was going on.
The old man is here. He wanted to chuckle, but he stopped just in time. Don’t want to wake him up.
He smiled and carefully got out of bed. His eyes were adjusted to the darkness. The clock radio on the bedside table showed him it was 4:42 a.m.
He liked the strength of the body. Even though it was a woman, it was way stronger than the puny little body he’d died in. He could feel it with every step and every clench of his fist.
It still felt weird to have boobs, but he tried not to think of that. He was on a mission.
The kitchen. He found the switch that turned the light on in the oven. That cast enough of a glow that he could see shadowy outlines.
Luke pulled open the first drawer he saw. Pot holders and dish towels. He closed it again, trying not to make a sound.
There was another drawer on the other side of the sink and he shuffled to it.
Bingo.
There was a treasure trove of sharp knives, along with other silverware. He bent to get a close look in the low lighting and found the standard sets of knives, forks, and spoons, but beside the plastic silverware holder were two heavy-duty steak knives.
The body had long, blonde hair that was cascading over his face. He was annoyed at it and tried to shove it back, but it didn’t stay.
Luke picked up one of the steak knives and read a small inscription: Made in Portugal.
The phrase reminded him of his Vavo, and he smiled. He had a passing thought, wondering if she was still alive or not. Not that he cared. Some of his previous life’s memories might have clung to his soul, but none of the emotions.
He slid his finger over the knife edge. It wasn’t terribly sharp, but that didn’t matter for stabbing.
Luke knew that Alannah’s phone could make a video recording and he thought he might take advantage of that, so that she could see how he had killed her lover. That would be funny. Unfortunately, he didn’t know how to use the phone and this wasn’t the time to figure it out.
Luke could hear deep sounds from the bedroom.
It’s raining, it’s pouring, the old man is snoring!
Hah!
Before he went to kill him, he stopped to be sure he really wanted to do it. He knew that there’d be a mess to clean up, and he’d likely have police trouble. He’d have to be a convincing liar.
“Actually, the girls can lie. They’ll have no clue.”
That made sense to him. If he let the girls take control afterward, they’d find the old guy dead and have to deal with it without knowing what happened. They’d be convincing and easily pass a lie detector test. He just couldn’t be in charge of the body when that happened.
“Okay by me,” he whispered.
He had to get rid of the old man. Otherwise, Alannah would keep control more and more, and he’d never have his chance to live again.
He deserved his time. He was still only a kid, and his own life had been taken too early. Here was the chance to fix that.
The old man was snoring louder. Luke went to the bedroom and stared at him. He was feeling nervous for the first time.
The man was sprawled on the bed with the covers tossed off of him. He wore only pajama bottoms with no top. He looked incredibly old.
Luke licked his lips. He could feel his heart racing and his breathing was faster.
His head was start
ing to ache.
One of the girls (or maybe both) was trying to stop him. He could feel the pressure building inside, as if he had the mother of all sinus colds.
“Screw you, bitch,” he muttered.
He stopped dead, afraid his words might awaken the old man. He did stop snoring as loudly, but he didn’t move.
Luke took a step closer and then another. He waited a moment and then found the courage to take the last two steps.
He was beside the bed, the old man close enough.
After taking a deep breath, Luke held the knife up above his head with both hands. He concentrated on the middle of the man’s chest, imagining the knife flying down and being buried to the hilt.
He whispered, “Die, old man.”
The man’s eyes snapped open.
Luke was shocked, unable to move.
“Alannah?”
Disoriented from waking in the middle of the night, the man couldn’t tell that Luke had a knife.
“Sweetie? What are you doing?”
Then he saw the knife.
“Oh, God.”
The old man hesitated just a split second too long, as if undecided whether to put his hands up to stop the knife or to roll away. That split second woke Luke from his indecision.
He slammed the knife down with all his might, and, as he imagined, it sunk deep into his victim’s chest.
The man flailed and screamed.
Blood spurted from the wound.
The old man tried to wriggle away, but Luke held the knife firmly and twisted it, releasing a bigger flood of dark blood.
The man tried to lift his arms but couldn’t.
He stared up at the woman he loved in complete confusion as he died.
Luke held onto the knife for a few minutes that seemed like forever. When he was sure the old man was dead, he laughed.
Chapter 28
2020
Alannah woke up, wondering how long it’d been since she’d had control of the body. It seemed like a long time.
She was in the bed she’d shared with Jeremiah, and she smiled as she thought of them making love. That was her last memory before falling asleep.
A faca esta afinada.
“What?”
The weird phrase lingered in her mind, but she had no idea what it meant. Whatever it was, an ominous chill ran through her.
The little boy was out.
“Oh my God, what happened?”
She stood and looked around the room. At first she didn’t see anything unusual. The blanket on the bed was messed up, but that could have just been from Jeremiah getting up. She glanced at the clock: 7:34.
It happened at 4:42.
She wasn’t sure what “it” was, but the phrase rose from the brain stem, covered in gray.
Then she saw the speckles of blood on the sheet. Not much, but enough. She stared at the dots, knowing that there had to be more blood somewhere.
She shuffled around the bed slowly, not really wanting to find what she already knew was there.
When she saw Jeremiah’s body on the floor, she froze. She wanted so much for this to be a dream, but it didn’t feel like one. The colors were too bright, the splotches too detailed, the grimace on his face all too real.
She didn’t scream and didn’t faint, although she was close to doing both. All she did was stare.
His body was ripped to pieces, surrounded by the blood that had flowed out of his chest.
“I need you,” she said. Even as the words left her mouth, she knew it was stupid. He couldn’t be there for her ever again.
She thought she could hear laughter in the brain stem, but that was impossible. He wouldn’t know what was going on and certainly couldn’t react to it.
“You fucking asshole,” she whispered. It was the first time she’d ever said either word.
“Jeremiah, I’m so very sorry.”
Finally, she collapsed onto the floor beside him, crawling close to him. She closed her eyes and slipped her arm under his neck crying into his shoulder. She hugged him, not noticing how cold he was. She wanted him to hold her and tell her he loved her.
Her whole life, she’d never had anyone cherish her like he did.
“Don’t leave me alone.”
She rubbed her hand on his face, feeling him one last time.
Alannah remembered the first time they’d met, outside the dance studio. She remembered how he watched her dance and how it made her feel special.
She remembered their first dates and the first time they made love. She remembered all the times he took care of her and made sure he cradled her insecurities and shyness. Somehow, she knew that she only had that portion of a full personality and that Savannah ended up with the courage and outgoing parts, but Jeremiah had always treated her with the tender care she needed.
There would never be anybody like him.
“I love you,” she said. “Always and forever.”
She wiped some tears away.
“You wanted a key to know it was me, and I never got to use that key. He got to you instead.”
She rose on one elbow and closed his eyes. Then she gently kissed him on the lips, saying one last silent good-bye to him.
* * *
She left his body twenty minutes later, taking the blood-covered knife with her. She went to the kitchen and rinsed it off. She needed to scrub the blade to clean off the congealed blood.
It never crossed her mind that the police would blame her. They were already suspicious of her from when the little boy had shot Jeremiah earlier. When they found out he’d been killed after sleeping in the same bed as hers, and when they found her fingerprints all over the place, well, it wouldn’t take a big city CSI team to figure out she was the killer.
Even if she wasn’t.
But none of that mattered to her. She wasn’t thinking about the police, or anything else for that matter. Her brain seemed sluggish, and she was only following what instinct told her to do.
She dried the blade and walked back to the bedroom.
Her pajamas were covered with blood. She didn’t care about that, either.
She lay down beside Jeremiah’s body and arranged his arm beneath her neck. They needed one last cuddle. Her leg touched his, and she thought of the times she’d woken up in his arms.
Alannah held the knife in both hands, above her chest. She closed her eyes and thought of being with Jeremiah again.
Chaos erupted in the brain stem, but she pushed her other selves—both of them—deeper, ignoring their protests. Neither Savannah nor the little boy wanted to die.
Too bad.
She concentrated on the knife, knowing she needed to do this, and knowing also that it would be the hardest thing in her life.
“I love you, Alannah.”
She hesitated, almost sure she heard Jeremiah’s voice. She blinked her eyes open but the body beside her was still lifeless.
Just wishful thinking.
“Always and forever.”
Still not real.
She took a long, deep breath and pulled the knife down as hard as she could, slamming it into her own chest.
She screamed. All three of her personalities screamed for her to pull the knife back out, but she fought the urge and pushed it harder into her chest.
The pain was worse than she imagined, and she couldn’t breathe. She wanted to stop, but she pushed one last time, barely nudging the blade.
She cried, but her mouth no longer made any noise.
Her last thought was no surprise.
“Always and forever.”
Epilogue
The little boy floated again in the misty abyss. He had been yanked from his body and now was flying through a gray emptiness.
“A agua esta fria.”
The water is cold.
He remembered that. He remembered he once had a father and a mother, and he’d fallen into the cold water from a canoe.
He remembered an older woman, his vavo. She spoke funny words an
d although he understood her, he no longer remembered her face. Nor did he miss her or his parents. The concept of missing somebody wasn’t really there anymore.
“A faca esta afinada.”
The knife is sharp.
The second death was different. His body-sister had killed, but he only vaguely remembered that, too. And he didn’t care.
Nothing mattered except floating in the gray mist.
Then he slammed down into a mushy landing. He had no sense of time, and this new brain wasn’t expecting him.
Somewhere he heard a baby cry.
“Hello, little brother,” Luke said.
John R. Little published his first short story in 1982 and hasn’t stopped since. He’s published fifteen books so far and has many more ideas finding find their way to print. John won the Bram Stoker award for Miranda in 2009 and was nominated three other times (The Memory Tree, Ursa Major, and Little by Little).