Page 14

“You can’t trust what you see, Gabe. I mean, look what happened with the last Madrina. No one would believe that between you and me we saw like, ten souls inside her.”

I lean my head back, staring at the ceiling. Or at least trying to. Instead I’m met with the upside down gaze that looks a hell of a lot like Brenna’s. “What did you see when you looked at him? I mean really looked?” Grammy asks.

Blinking, my mind takes me back to the cemetery. To chasing him. To the look on his face when he held my gaze before I lost him.

“He was alone.” Everyone stares at me, unsure why that is a problem. Letting out a sigh, I roll my eyes. “No one is alone. Everyone has a soul.” I wave at them all. “I should know.”

Dima’s eyes narrow and I just know he’s going to come out with some deep Russian shit. “Do you see the soul or feel it?”

No one has ever asked me this before. When I look at a person I see them as a whole. Body and soul. But it’s more than just a look. It’s a feeling too. I can feel when someone is whole. That’s why Brenna intrigues me. She’s…more. And I don’t know why.

“Both. I can see it like I guess people see auras or something. But more importantly, I feel it. This guy? Feels…empty.” Dima’s eyes narrow and he grunts. But he doesn't look surprised. He knows something. “Spill it.”

He tilts his head. “My grandmother called them pustoy. Means ‘the empty.’”

“Why?” I demand.

He lets out a sigh, rolling his shoulders. “Some men give away parts of themselves. Deals. Rituals. Whatever.”

“He sold his soul,” Kristie mutters.

“That’s fucked up,” Grammy adds, from her position perched in a velvet chair near the bookcase.

“And these pustoy, they just, live like nothing happened?” I ask. I can’t wrap my damn head around it.

“An empty vessel starts looking for something to fill it.”

Fuck.

Brenna

Laying in bed I try my hardest not to listen too intently. Is it weird that I listen out for Gabriel? I’ve not seen him in person since the day before yesterday, but I heard him. His voice drifts through the wall, so it’s not really my fault that I hear him, I guess. It’s just that, sometimes, he doesn’t sound right? I don’t know. Usually he’s calm, his tone soothing. Last night? He sounded angry. Irritated. Maybe he’s just yelling at the TV. That could be it. I get like that when I’m watching something particularly thrilling. That’s probably it. I roll over, telling myself to stop listening in like a creeper.

You should check on him.

Nope. Not doing that. I’ve not seen hide nor hair of him since he dropped me off after our motorcycle ride. My stomach still flip flops at the thought because it was the most exciting thing I’ve ever done. Me. Goody two shoes Brenna on the back of a bike. Grammy would have loved it.

Reaching over to my sidetable I check my phone. It’s not too early to be up and about, so I figure I may as well make an early start. I’m on to open at work today so what's opening the doors a few minutes early?

I get myself ready for the day, making sure to choose a bright outfit as it’s looking a little dreary out. As much as I love fall and all that it brings, I’m most definitely a spring and summer gal. The colors, the scents of the flowers blooming, I love all of it. Hence why I decide to put on my jeans with sunflowers on the pockets and a bright yellow long sleeved tee. I even go so far as to bundle my red curls on top of my head and add a sunflower hair clip. I know my look is at odds with the place I work, but I enjoy how it confuses people sometimes. It gives me more time to read them, to learn what they may need from me.

Picking out a tote that says “Nerds have bigger hard drives” I throw my lip gloss, a book to read during break and a left over wonky croissant. Nodding at myself once in the mirror I throw the door open and I’m only a little disappointed to make it all the way downstairs without bumping into Gabriel.

You know, you could just knock on his door. It’s not like you don’t know where he lives.

“Shut up,” I mutter to my inner voice. I’m sure inner voices are meant to be helpful.

“Good morning.”

I yelp at the kind greeting, having not noticed Percy standing just inside the doorway. I’m not actually sure if that’s his name, but he looks like a Percy.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t see you there,” I say a little breathlessly, my hand on my chest trying to calm my pounding pulse.

Percy doesn’t say anything, just sort of, grimaces at me. I’ve seen him everyday since he sat next to me on the streetcar. He’s a little odd, but he’s pleasant enough. He strikes me as someone people don’t really see. But that’s OK. I see him.

But you can’t read him, can you?

I ignore that niggly little voice. But it is weird. I can read everyone I come into contact with. But Percy confuses me. He seems muted, like a lifetime of being invisible has taken its toll on him.