The Soulkeepers

Chapter 9: Heads Will Fly

Chapter 9
Heads Will Fly

Sleep was the enemy. Jacob wrestled with it every night, the endless rush of thoughts that no amount of tossing or turning could lay to rest. The guilt that he hadn’t done enough to help find his mom mingled with his anger toward Dane and his friends. Together, the emotions created the world’s best anti-sleeping pill. The alternative was worse. If he fell asleep, he’d dream weird, vivid dreams, the kind that made you sweat and scream in your sleep. Sometimes it was the false memory replaying in his head. Other times he saw the ghost at his window. He might dream of being chased or showing up to a test without a pencil but all of his dreams were alike in one important way. He was helpless in them. Absolutely helpless. So, as the first rays of sunshine cast dappled shadows across his desk, he was already awake.

In his hands, he turned the jewelry box that he’d found among his mother’s things. How could he have missed it in the tiny apartment? He needed a way to open it, something that wouldn’t damage it. If he could just see what was inside, maybe something would explain why she was different those last weeks, and why she’d gone to Manoa Falls that last day.

He lifted the box higher, heavy even with two hands, and inspected the bottom. There was a label, the white kind that you see on the tabs of manila folders. Hurried but familiar, it was a phone number, nothing more, but it was definitely in his mother’s handwriting. Jacob set the box down carefully and copied the numbers onto a yellow sticky note. Then he grabbed his cell phone off the dresser and crept down to the kitchen.

In front of the bay window, at the heavy pine table, he sat with the number in one hand and his phone in the other. What would he say? Do you sell jewelry boxes? Do you have any extra keys? There wasn’t much time before the Laudners woke up and he didn’t want to explain who he was calling. Not wanting to waste another minute, Jacob plugged the numbers into the phone, still unsure what he would say, and listened to the ring, once, twice, three times. Finally, he heard the familiar static of an answering machine.

“You have reached Red Door Martial Arts.” The voice was male, rich, and deep. “We are not available at the moment but if you please leave a message, we will call you back.”

Jacob snapped the phone shut. Of course they wouldn’t have answered; it was the middle of the night on Oahu. He reread the sticky note. Had he dialed the wrong number? He dialed it again and got the same message. Why would his mother have the number for a martial arts business on the bottom of her jewelry box? It didn’t make sense.

He leaned back in his chair and stared across the street at the Victorian. The vines on the wrought-iron fence were beginning to green. He tried his best to concentrate on the color and to forget where he was and why. The world outside was a rolling sea and he was on a raft without a paddle. There was nothing to anchor him and no way to shore. He had to think. He had to find a way back to his life.

The floor creaked. Jacob turned in his chair. Katrina stood in the archway to the family room, a wry grin lifting the corner of her mouth. She cocked her head sideways when their eyes met. The expression reminded him of a rat. How long had she been looking at him like that?

“What do you want?” he asked.

“I was just wondering if you were hungry,” Katrina said. She flipped her curly brown hair behind the shoulder of her sweater. One of her blue suede boots rested on the wall behind her. Her gray tights and suede mini skirt reminded him of doll clothes, too perfect, too pressed.

“No, not really…”

“Because, if you were hungry,” she interrupted, “I would be happy to make you some eggs. That is what you like isn’t it? Eggs? You know, you are what you eat.” She laughed callously.