Page 42 of The Souls Harvest
“He is not a Rogue.” I snap back.
“You’re right.He’s the reason we’re all in danger… Is that a good enough reason for you?” Lily strikes her hand on the table as if the polished surface were my face. A strand of her perfect hair falls loose, framing her tense jaw.
An invisible hand slowly tights around my throat, making it hard to breathe, to think. Roden has built an intangible cage around me, word by word, and I only saw a glimpse of it when it was already too late to run away.
“What if I can’t control myself and end up killing him?” My lips tremble, and I breathe out dark puffs of angry purple, reminding me how Harvesters will never seamlessly blend with Horigeans. Our eyes, our powers—the very air in our lungs; everything makes us noticeable, different. Dangerous.
Roden narrows his eyes at Lily, then turns to me and clicks his tongue, “Now, now. Kill? That’s too definitive, don’t you think? I only need you to harvest his soul and leave it with the Deleteri for aspecialtreatment I’ve been working on. You get your life back with your adorable Galen, and I may even find a way to teach your unique talent to someone else if the burden is too heavy for you to carry…” He huffs a laugh, “Kill? I’d rather call it—”
“A fair exchange of goods,” I echo his earlier words.
Chapter 20 - Just a Sunday Morning
July
Ilike Saturday mornings, but Sundays are the best. Everybody is too tired from the night before, too full of food and happy memories—mostly awkward memories they hope will remain a secret and soon forgotten.
But today is not one of those Sundays.
It was already Saturday evening when I returned to my place after the meeting with the Chapter. Miss Popplewish had escorted me outside and given me a ride back.
“I need to blindfold you, July. I’m sure you’ll understand. But you can text Galen first if you wish.” Those were the last words she spoke to me as she handed me back my phone.
I remember replying as if to a stranger, “I’ll figure something out later. Is there anything specific I need to know, anything I should do to avoid messing up Galen’s new memories?” I was exhausted and confused. And I knew that no matter what story the Chapter had concocted to convince him that he brought me home after dinner because I was pretty wasted, our friendship would never be the same—at least for one of us.
Because I made a deal with Roden. Because I accepted to be the key that will open a well of pain and who knows what else for a man whose only sin is to be powerful like me, but not squashed under Roden’s will.
Yet.
But as far as Galen is concerned, I spent the entire Saturday in bed with a terrible headache and an upset stomach.
“You will receive instructions soon,” Popplewish had added, her voice like nails on a board.
“In that case,” I’d shrugged after fastening my belt on the passenger seat, “I think I’m ready to start living a fat, shitty lie, I guess.”
And now Sunday morning is knocking at my door like an old friend, and I wish it could be Friday again so I could change it all, make different choices, and be free to enjoy breakfast by the shore with Galen.
Usually at this time, he is calling and sending silly emojis of coffee cups. Or a croissant, if I don’t reply within two minutes, followed by pictures of baby owls with their beaks open. But not today.
What if they lied... What if they weren’t able to play with his mind... What if. What if?
I need to feel something. Leaving my room is the first step towards a semi-normal life. My legs are tangled in my bed sheets, and it is as if I fought to fall asleep last night. My mouth is dry. I must have gone to bed leaving the window open because the nightair still lingers; at least, the soft light pouring in is a welcome guest.
Outside, everything is running as usual. I hear no voices, no bikes, just the island breathing in and out, happy not to be walked on or run on, free from chirping voices gossiping, if only for a couple of hours.
When I come out of the shower, the bed invites me to nestle back into its warmth, and my muscles seem to respond, especially my back, which still hurts from all the time spent on the cold stone floor of HQ’s basement. But I can’t pretend it’s just a normal Sunday morning and steal a few more minutes of sleep.
Today is the day I will have to lie to my best friend. This is the first of many Sundays when, if Galen doesn’t call me, I won’t be either. Because if I do, I’ll have to pretend I’m someone else.
When I step outside my building, the crisp morning air tickles my face, and if only for a moment, I tell myself I’m fine. But when I turn the corner heading towards the little square beneath my window, I freeze in front of Roden’s face, staring at me from the stone frame where it had been chiselled centuries ago. His fluffy brick-red moustache, and the fatherly expression he uses during public speaking and events—all details so familiar to me, that made me feel part of something big and good, and that are now only a constant reminder of his lies.
I lift one hand and try to scratch his eyes, but all I manage is a sore finger and a line of dirt under my nails.
“Yeah, fuck the system…You know you’re too old for that, right?” Galen’s voice is like an unexpected cold rain.
I’m paralysed. If I turn around now, he will read on my face that something is wrong—chipped. But when Galen comes closer, and I smell hot coffee and sugar, I choke on the stinging knot in my throat. At least if he notices the tears in my eyes, he’ll think the cough has caused them.
“Hey…” I start.
