Chapter Forty-Two
The drill vibrated in my hand, and I leaned into it, pouring my frustrations into the materializing hole in the wall. Pieces of plaster and wall dust were scattered all around me, on my clothes, and in my hair.
I’d finished cleaning up my store, and was now installing the new shelves. There was a complex process. I’d measure the shelf, and mark the places I needed to drill. Then I would pray to the gods of drilling that my drill would not hit a water pipe or an electricity line. I would drill the holes, four for each shelf. Then, when installing, I would realize that one of them was not properly aligned. I would create a new, fifth hole. I would install the shelf, and see that it was crooked, and that the extra hole was very much visible and ugly.
And I’d decide it was good enough and move on to the next shelf.
Magnus was nowhere to be seen. The drill’s noise had scared him half to death, and I suspected he was hiding under the bed, head on his paws, waiting for the nightmare to be over.
I was working on the fifth hole of the third shelf when a knock on the door made me stop and turn around.
“Kane!”
He stood in the doorway, his hands in the pockets of his trench coat. He’d showered recently, his hair still glistening with that post-wetness sheen. I glanced at myself. I wore a black tank top—well, originally black, though now it was gray with wall dust. I was sweaty with the hard work of the morning, and since I often wiped my face with my grimy hands, I was probably thoroughly smudged with dirt. In the past week, I had twice tried to see him after showering, dressing nicely, and putting on makeup, only to find his office empty. And now, this was how he saw me. The female version of Bob the Builder.
“I… I thought you went back to New York,” I said. “I came looking for you.”
“I did go back.” He nodded. “Went to see my sister, and take care of some business.” He looked around at the shop. “Renovating?”
“Yeah. Breadknife and his goons did a number on this place.” I put the drill on a nearby shelf, which wobbled slightly. “So you returned to Boston?”
“Yeah. I encountered some promising leads about my sister here, and I want to investigate them. Actually…” He seemed to hesitate. It was the first time I’d seen him struggle with what he wanted to say. “I was hoping for your help.”
“My help in what?”
“Finding my sister’s soul.”
I stared at him, feeling confused.
“I’ve been looking for years. With no success. I don’t know where it is, and even if I did, I have no idea how to get it back. And I saw what you can do. Those things you create—”
“I’m just following recipes,” I said. “I’m a good cook, nothing more.”
“No! That’s not true! There’s magic in what you do, true magic. I knew it from the moment I first saw those distilled children’s dreams. You’re special.”
I frowned, a sudden idea popping into my mind. “Is that one of the reasons you wanted to do this job with me? To see if I could pull it off? To see what I could do?”
He looked away. “Everything I do is about one thing only,” he said hoarsely. “Returning my sister.”
I thought about it, desperately wanting to help, not knowing how. “I can ask around. I will ask around. And if there’s a potion or a crystal that you need—”
“I need you to search.” His eyes were desperate. “To use your powers for my sister.”
“Kane… I’m sorry. It’s just simple alchemy, nothing more. I have a few good recipes, and I’ve become very adept at following instructions. But I have no clue how to look for a soul. Maybe Isabel…”
The hope flickered away from his eyes. “You’re right. I guess I’ll talk to Isabel.”
“If there’s anything I can do to help, just tell me and I will. I promise.”
He was silent for a moment. “Did you find out if the crystal… is it the Yliaster crystal?”
“Maybe. I don’t know. All the research I did so far tells me it isn’t. The Yliaster crystal is probably a myth.” And even if it wasn’t, I couldn’t see how it would be able to help Kane’s sister.
“A myth like Pandora’s box?”
I smiled weakly. “Exactly.”
The silence stretched between us, and I was suddenly scared that this was how he would think of me. Another failure to help his sister. I cleared my throat and went to my desk, opening one of the drawers. I retrieved a small bottle.
“I have something we can drink,” I said. “It’s really potent. It can reduce inhibitions, and calm down nerves.” I located two smudged glasses on the table.
Magnus padded into the room, casting a baleful look at the discarded drill. He then approached Kane, sniffing his leg with interest.
“What is this magical potion called?” Kane asked, a sad smile on his lips. He scratched Magnus behind his ear distractedly.
“I call it the wondrous stupidifier. But I’ve heard people calling it scotch, so whatever. Call it what you like.”
I poured a glass of the amber-colored whisky for each of us.
“A bit more wondrous stupidifier for me, please,” Kane said.
I doubled his shot, and gave him the glass. He raised it and I raised my own glass, clinking it with his. I sipped, letting the burning taste linger on my tongue for a bit.
“You have a… bit of plaster in your hair,” Kane said. He reached forward, and touched my hair. For a moment his face was close to mine, and I could feel his breath on my face, his grass-green eyes staring intently into mine. My palms were trembling. I didn’t know if it was because of his proximity or because of the intense work I’d been doing, but I didn’t care. I may have fallen for this guy during a job, but it was real this time, not some sort of juvenile crush that would end in disappointment. And he came back. He was here. My lips parted slightly, and I moved forward, shutting my eyes, hoping that he wouldn’t back away, feeling expectant and anxious. His lips touched mine, and one arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me to him, and the kiss was warm, and passionate, the taste of whisky on both our tongues, and all I wanted to do was melt into him.
And then he pulled back.
“I can’t,” he said, his face twisted in sadness and pain.
I blinked. “What? Why the hell not?”
“I like you, Lou, I really do, but… my sister.”
“I know. But that doesn’t mean you stop living, right?”
“Her soul is somewhere.” His voice was on edge, ragged. “And as long as I’m alive, I can’t let anything distract me from trying to get her back. I can’t let anyone distract me. You understand that, right?”
The right thing to do was to nod, to tell him I understand. Of course, any moment he spent not trying to save his sister’s soul was a moment lost. Every minute he spent with me was a minute he could be spending researching arcane rituals to restore souls. Every hour he’d be in my bed was an hour he could be scouring the streets, looking for a cure. Every night we would cuddle together was a night he could be doing some sort of work to pay for the hospital bills that kept her body alive.
But I didn’t nod. I gritted my teeth, and glanced away, feeling the tears in my throat. I wouldn’t let him see them, no matter what.
“Lou, I—”
“It’s fine, I get it. I really need to hang this shelf. And you should talk to Isabel. She’s the expert on souls, right?”
He hovered behind me, and I hoped he would say that he’d had a change of heart—that of course he could let me into his life, that it didn’t mean he’d stop searching for a cure. That it just meant he could let himself live while he did it.
But then I heard the door of my shop opening and shutting, as he left.
I could cry now, throw myself on the counter, trembling in a sobbing fit, woe is me, the love of my life will not love me back. Perhaps I could smash a jar in a fit of rage, or go take a shower, letting my tears mingle with the water and the soapsuds. Full of pathos. The jilted girl, her broken heart, et cetera.
But I didn’t do that. Emotions should be shut in a vault, buried deeply, never to see the light of day. After all, I had to be true to my motto, let it fester.
Instead I poured myself another shot of wondrous stupidifier and swallowed it in one gulp, some of it dribbling down my chin, because life mocks those who try to act dramatically. Then I returned to my shelf, which was the most crooked one yet. But it was good enough.
After finishing with it, I walked over to the lab and approached the safe. I unlocked it, pulling the door open. The crystal sat inside it. Light pulsed weakly within its core, a shimmering golden glow.
I picked it up, carelessly gripping it in my hand. I should have known better. An alchemist never touches a magical crystal directly, unless she’s sure it’s safe.
The surface felt warm, pulsing, alive.
A single image flashed in my mind, of a club, the music pulsing in my chest, hundreds of people dancing in the smoky hall, the lights flickering from purple to red to blue.
I’d never been there before in my life. It was someone else’s memory.
Another soul.
I nearly dropped it in shock. Instead, I grabbed the chain that held it, letting go of the crystal itself. I held it up to my eyes, saw it glow brighter than ever before.
The Yliaster crystal was not a myth. I was holding it. There was a soul inside.
And if it was there, maybe I could find a way to free it. And if I managed that, could I find a way to free Kane’s sister’s soul as well?
Of course I could. I thought back to Kane’s hopeful look when he’d asked if I could help. He’d said I was special.
I was Lou fucking Vitalis. A vampire had called me legendary. I’d beaten Boston’s most notorious criminal, killing him and his goons. I’d broken into a dragon’s lair, stealing Pandora’s box from him. I’d stopped the end of the world. I was totally bitchin’, the bee’s knees, peachy-keen.
I would find a lost soul, and get it back.
I hope you enjoyed Stolen Soul. If you want to read , a free short story from Kane’s broody perspective, you can get it