Soul Slam Read online

  “Like sucking water out of a pond.”

  “Yeah, like sucking water out of a pond.” Xander laughed—a deep rumble.

  The sound went into my soul, sparking inside. Every nerve ending tingled. Every sense went on full alert.

  Then, the spark extinguished, doused. Like a revolt inside my body. Random. One second turned on, the next off.

  I rounded the boulder and we continued to walk in silence. Was I attracted to Xander? Great body—and I’d seen most of it, thick hair, movie-star smile. He’d helped me. He’d saved me. He’d stuck by my side.

  I’d never been attracted to the guys at home. They never made a move on me, even though we weren’t a real family. I figured I wasn’t attractive or just too young. Glancing down at my almost non-existent chest, I tugged on my black long-sleeved T-shirt and wiggled back and forth.

  “Wouldn’t using the power make it burn out more quickly?” Could I make my boobs grow? “If I didn’t have power, the Society would stop searching for me.”

  He halted. His intense stare made me fidget. “By burning out, they mean die.”

  I faltered a step back. “D-die?” My lips numbed on the word. My eyes widened like an owl at night. “As in dead? Gone?”

  I found it difficult to breathe, as if I already suffered from this fate. My ears pounded with the march of death. Every time I used the powers a bit of me burned up and died. Between the uncontrollable running, the deciphering of ancient Egyptian and sucking water, I’d burn out in no time. I’d burn out before getting the amulet to Fitch, before seeing Tina and Doug. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I was told the anointing ceremony would stop the burn out. Now, I’m not so sure.”

  “What do we need for the anointing ceremony?” Tiny flares lit up my upper body, one after the other. I could feel the fire build.

  Xander blew out a breath. “If I had to guess—”

  “You mean you don’t know?”

  He shook his head. “The ancient Egyptians used special oils in all their ceremonies.”

  “What kind of oil?” I could run to the store and buy a bottle of olive oil right now.

  “Shh.” Xander stiffened. “I hear something.”

  My ears perked up and listened, fearful I’d hear, and understand, Egyptian chanting again. Fearful I’d use more of my powers. “The Society?”

  He moved forward and peered around a tree. “Just street people.” He said it with a tinge of distaste.

  Glaring, my inner fear diffused and turned into outward anger. “Temporarily homeless.” I went to shove him aside but he jumped away. I’d lived on the streets for awhile, understood what it was like. They’d be cold and hungry. “Do you have anything to give them?”

  “Yeah, like where am I going to keep dollar bills?” He indicated his white tunic. For being raised by a rich society, he didn’t carry the basic necessities.

  “I’ve got money.” I always carried a little for emergencies. I pushed through the bushes.

  A group of men wearing dirty and heavy winter coats, even though it was summer, huddled around a trash can. A measly fire barely flamed inside. Still, they tried to warm their hands.

  You’d think being homeless in California would be easy, but the damp fog seeped into your bones and never left. One time I was so cold I curled up by a warehouse exhaust fan for a little heat. While it had kept me alive that night, my cheeks had chapped and reddened. For days afterward my skin flaked away as if I was a leper.

  A man with a grizzled grey beard spotted me. “Money to spare for food?”

  “Yeah.” Stepping forward, I reached into my pocket.

  Xander came up beside me. His breath moved the hair next to my ear causing my skin to tingle. “Do you think this is a good idea? What if they spend it on alcohol or drugs?”

  “Not every homeless person is a druggie. Some are just down on their luck.” I held out a five dollar bill. “I need clothes for my friend. Can I buy them off you?”

  “What?” Xander’s face scrunched in disgust.

  “You can’t run around in a sheet. It makes you easy to spot.”

  “New trend?” The man with the beard laughed hoarsely before turning away. The others stayed by the garbage can.

  Every piece of clothing the homeless owned they probably wore on their bodies. They piled it on. The more clothes, the warmer they stayed and the less chance of losing something precious. I’d never forget those days.

  “I’ll sell you clothes.” A different man straightened away from the garbage can. He wore a tightly-wrapped cloak with ragged edges and what looked like neatly-cuffed pants underneath.

  Xander looked up at him. Way up at him. “He’s a bit tall.”

  “Sorry, I don’t think you’re clothes will fit.” I wanted to offer him a portion of the money just for volunteering, except I couldn’t afford to pay them all.

  The homeless man flashed a white-toothed smile through his black-streaked face. “One of my friends will help. What’re you looking for?”

  I glanced at Xander and noted the muscles of his bare thighs. My tummy toasted and tingled. “Definitely, pants.”

  “And a shirt.” He looked at the sandals on his feet. “Shoes, if possible.”

  “Let me consult my, uh, friends.” The man twisted around and walked with renewed energy, as if earning a little cash invigorated him.

  How sweet. They considered each other friends. When I lived on the street I had acquaintances, never pals. We looked out for ourselves.

  The man shuffled over to the group and negotiated with them. Maybe he’d been a business man in his previous life. What had happened to bring him down so low?

  I bristled with superiority. All my sympathy fled. The man was no better than a slave. Worse. At least slaves worked. The angle of my chin tilted up. I sniffed the foul air. Turning, I moved away from the homeless filth.

  Against my will.

  “Where are you going?” Xander’s question held a note of panic. Like he didn’t want to be left alone with these people.

  My presence should not be soiled by lowlifes.

  I shook Tut’s voice aside. These weren’t my thoughts. I was once homeless.

  My adventure on the streets started when I was eight because the other foster kids I’d lived with hated me. They’d called me names, stole my things, and hit me. Living on the streets, on my own, had to be better.

  I was wrong.

  Tired of dumpster diving, I’d snatched a cookie from a coffeehouse. The clerk grabbed my skinny wrist so tight I thought he’d break my arm. He’d threatened to call the police. Fitch had paid for the cookie and walked me outside. I expected a lecture about theft, but instead he’d said, If you’re going to steal, let me show you how to do it right. From that point forward Fitch had tutored me, become my mentor, and now my jailor.

  I struggled to stop my feet. I couldn’t let Tut win this battle.

  Like Fitch won every battle. He’d saved me, taken me in, fed me, given me a bed, and taught me a trade. An illegal trade, but one that helped pay the way for me, Fitch, and the other kids in his care. We lived in a condemned building in an industrial part of town. When the cops kicked us out, we found another place to call home. At least temporarily.

  Thoughts of running away had entered my head only to be dismissed. Where would I go?

  Hating the life—the risks, the constant change, the on edge feeling—I’d vowed to pull myself out of the circle of ever increasing danger. But it was too late for me. Too late to go to school and get educated. Too late to rejoin the foster care system. And definitely too late to be adopted.

  But it wasn’t too late for the younger kids in Fitch’s family. This job, this amulet, was to have been their salvation. It was going to help me, help them.

  Now it might be my death.

  My forward momentum stopped. I swiveled back around and stood beside Xander. Tut’s mutiny was over.

  The tall homeless man bent lower, shielding another guy with his body
. Loafers plopped to the ground, followed by a pair of dirty jeans. The man wore long johns underneath. Another guy, took off his coat and stripped off an old black concert T-shirt. Both men handed the clothes to the tall homeless man who had become our negotiator.

  “Here you go.” He held out the clothes the other men had shed.

  Xander squished up his nose. “Disgusting.” He didn’t understand the sacrifice the men had made. If he was going to make it on the streets, he’d need to be less picky.

  “Take the clothes.” Controlling an urge to hit Xander, I held the money between my fingers.

  Our negotiator paused before pinching the paper and slipping the five dollars into his gloved-hand. “Thanks.”

  Uneasiness crawled up my spine like ants foraging for food. His delayed touch had been…odd. I ignored the feeling. I was just uncomfortable paying him and not the men who’d actually given up their warmth. Or Tut didn’t want to touch him. “Buy them food and coffee.” I wished I could do more.

  He nodded.

  Xander stepped behind me and slipped the jeans on under the tunic. The white sheet dropped to the ground and I assumed he put on the shirt. Sprinkles danced around my midsection. I turned my back to him.

  “Awfully young to be out this late at night on your own.” The man’s dull green pupils sharpened. “Where are you headed?”

  “Home.” I hoped. My heart burned with the need.

  These men didn’t have a place to call home. All they had were the clothes on their backs, a small fire, and the generosity of strangers. The five dollars I gave wouldn’t go very far between the four of them. Even with all my troubles I felt bad for these guys.

  The night was going to turn colder and we’d just taken some of their clothes. Sorrow dampened my soul. Cold. Hungry. Helpless. I knew what it was like. Who knew what they’d actually spend the money on, but I could do something about the cold.

  I stepped next to the trash can and peered inside. Grey swirls of smoke rose from the crushed newspapers stuffed at the bottom of the can. A single tiny flame burned the edges of yesterday’s news. The flame flickered, almost going out.

  Using my power could harm me, cause me to die quicker. But what was the use of having power if I couldn’t help people? People who were helpless. Like I used to be.

  I thought about my current situation that was no fault of my own. I thought about Jeb’s treatment of Xander. I thought about Fitch’s many angry rages and threats. I thought about what could happen to Tina and Doug. I let those thoughts churn in my brain and burn in my chest, building my own anger and rage. My chest filled with heat. My throat burned. I didn’t know if this would work, but I bent over the trash can and opened my mouth.

  Flames shot from between my lips. The newspapers ignited and flared.

  “Olivia!” Xander’s voice cautioned. He knew what using my power could do.

  Closing my mouth, I stepped back. Satisfaction oozed out in a smile. The fire would last most of the night.

  “Whoa!” the homeless man standing in only long underwear said.

  “It’s a miracle,” the guy who’d donated the T-shirt said.

  “Praise the Lord!” the man with the grizzled beard shouted.

  Praise King Tut.

  The tall man said nothing. Even at a distance I could see his focus narrow. His gaze ran the length of my body. Contemplating. Assessing. Analyzing.

  Feeling like a prized animal, I shivered. “W-we should get going.”

  “Gentlemen, I’ve changed my mind. I’ll give you fifty more bucks,” the tall man announced, “if you try to grab her.”

  “What?” My heart jumped like it had been shocked. Probably because it had. I took a big step forward, ready to run.

  “If you’re going to stupidly waste my power…” He started tugging off his black leather gloves.

  Xander, who stood a bit away from the trash can, waved his hand telling me to move.

  Like I couldn’t figure that one out for myself.

  The homeless men lunged toward me.

  “Eek!” I ducked.

  My shoulder came in contact with the long underwear guy. A powerful current surged through my body. The guy fell to the ground. His body jerked and trembled on the cold concrete.

  Twisting like a spiral curl, I dodged a second man, just barely missing his direct touch. My goal was to escape, not harm.

  The guy who’d given up his shirt reached out and grabbed my arm. His fingers wrapped around me for a second before a jolt flashed through me. He jerked. His fingers loosened and he fell to the ground.

  “This way!” Xander stood by a narrow path into the woods.

  Remorse slugged like a championship boxer. The men didn’t know by touching me I could hurt them. I hoped they’d be fine.

  The tall man pushed one of the homeless out of the way. He tripped on the man’s leg and fell to the ground. Not my fault this time. Gold flashed at his wrist before the tall man hit the ground, but I had no time to take note of valuable items to pickpocket.

  Picking up speed, I rushed toward the trees. Xander held back the branches so I could slip into the woods. We ran fast to get away.

  It didn’t sound like anyone was following, but we kept up our pace, putting distance between us and the homeless men.

  The tall guy wearing what looked like a gold watch certainly wasn’t homeless. Was he one of Jeb’s society people? And if so, why didn’t he know they couldn’t touch me?

  * * *

  Fifteen minutes later, we broke through the trees and onto a blacktop track that ran around a large field. Bleachers were built on the sides into a small hill and I felt the urge to run, yes run, up them. A couple of white nets sat haphazardly on the worn-down grass. An abandoned soccer ball sat on the edge of the field. The scuffed leather was worn in places. The ball didn’t look fully inflated. Even so, my feet tugged my body toward it.

  “Oh no.” The top half of my body swayed from the pull of my feet.

  “What?” Xander followed behind.

  It’s been so long since I’ve been able to play anything. Tut almost sounded like he was begging. Which was hard to believe.

  Not that he needed to beg. He had full control of my body.

  “I think Tut wants to play.” My foot jerked kicking the ball to the center of the field. Tut had quite a leg even against my resistance.

  “At a time like this?” Xander ran toward me. “Doesn’t he know we need to get away from here?”

  “You tell him.” I charged after the ball again, faster than I’d ever run before. My feet slipped on the grass. I put my hands out to balance, but I didn’t fall. “Whoa.”

  I’m not a horse.

  Then, don’t run away. I sassed back.

  “This is not the time for games.” Xander kept pace with me.

  “Well, I think Tut likes soccer.”

  I like hunting.

  Gross. I didn’t like killing innocent animals.

  “I love soccer, but we can’t play now.”

  “Don’t you get it?” My muscles trembled with the movement. “I don’t have a choice. Maybe if you play with me I won’t have to run after my own ball and be too tired to move further when Tut’s done using my body.”

  “Fine.” Xander kicked the ball back to me.

  My feet planted and I kicked the ball back toward him. “Phew.”

  “I love watching soccer and baseball on TV.” Xander kicked the ball. “The Society refused to let me play on a team.” His face fell as if he was the boy never picked for a side.

  I kicked the ball back. “Why would playing soccer or baseball hurt the Society’s goals?” My breath settled in my chest. At least I wasn’t running anymore.

  “Mostly because they didn’t want me making friends.” His all-alone tone returned.

  The older boys in Fitch’s family might’ve ignored me, but the younger kids in the house loved me, came to me with their troubles and hurts. I didn’t have normal friends, but I had someone.

 
; Xander had no one but the Society. And now he didn’t have them. If we were temporary partners, were we temporary friends?

  I ignored the unusual attraction sizzling through my veins. We couldn’t be friends or anything more. I didn’t trust him. Didn’t trust anyone. I didn’t have a choice unless Fitch gave Xander his approval. “You can come home with me. It’s not much—”

  “Do you really think you can go home?” He trapped the ball and glared.

  My tummy vaulted. “Well, I um,” The contents, which wasn’t much, swirled around. “I’ll need to figure out how to stop the burn out.”

  “The Society will be looking for you.”

  My body slumped and I no longer was forced to run or kick. “They don’t know who I am or where I live.” The Society hadn’t been expecting me tonight. They’d planned to steal the amulet on their own. A simple coincidence that we’d both chosen tonight for the heist.

  “The Society has connections. How do you think I got into the museum?”

  “The same way I did. Paid off a guard.” I wrapped my arms around myself. “Fitch will protect me.” He had to. I was bringing him the amulet, I’d just been delayed.

  “Who’s Fitch?”

  “He’s the guy who runs the ring I belong to.”

  “Ring?”

  “Ring, or gang of thieves. Except we’re not like a street gang, more like a family. We look out for each other. Help each other. Count on each other.” All my earlier doubts vanished. “He’d never desert me.”

  “Like he did at the museum.” Xander reminded me of how Fitch left me to find my own way, to face the men in the black car.

  A protest stormed my stomach. Fitch was nothing like Jeb and the Society. “Something must’ve spooked him.”

  “I’m just saying.” He continued walking. “What other stuff have you stolen?”

  “Personally?” I touched my hand to my chest where the amulet lay under my T-shirt. “Nothing. I’ve helped plan a lot of heists, assisted with casing the area, but this was my first inside job.”

  “Why?”

  “Fitch believed in me.” Forced me.

  “Think about it.” Xander broke the twig in half. “Why this job? On this night?”

  His questions dug into my head like multiple worms squirming inside my mind causing confusion and uncertainty. On top of all Xander’s questions, one single thought stuck out.