The Soulkeepers (15 page)

Jacob could not look away from John's eyes.
For the first time, he saw in John what John had seen in him. John
was Charlie's brother. They shared the same chin, the same pale
green eyes, and more importantly the same history. He had to admit,
something about what John said was starting to make sense.

"Jacob, this thing that you are doing. This,
I talk to you and you do everything in your power not to talk back
thing, it's not getting it done."

"I talk to you!"

"Only if you want something or if I ask you
a direct question. Never because you want to. Nothing about this
relationship is going to help either one of us keep the spirit of
your father alive. If that's how you want it, then continue this
attitude. But if you want something more—if you want to actually be
part of your father's family, be here, really be here with us. I,
for one, would love to have you."

John turned back to the steering wheel,
threw the car into drive and re-entered the road. The only sound in
the car was the familiar roll of the wheels on imperfect concrete
and pebbles clinking against the rusty trucks exterior. Mile after
mile rolled by with John's words tumbling inside Jacob's head.

It wasn't until John turned into the
driveway that Jacob decided.

"Okay," he whispered. "I'd really like to
know more about my dad and his family."

That evening, Jacob spent hours going
through Laudner family albums with John. He told John stories of
the last years of his dad's life and John told him about the early
years. By midnight, both of them knew each other better and had
pieced together the life of the man who was both Charlie Laudner
and Charles Lau. His memory was made whole.

Together, they picked out a picture from the
back of one of the albums, his father in his army uniform, and hung
it in the upstairs hallway. It had been a long time since Charlie's
photograph had hung beside his brothers and sisters. The image
looked at home there, now.

Jacob lay under the pink comforter that
night and stared into the darkness. Although he still wanted to
find his mom and he still hated Paris, he wasn't angry anymore. The
last thought that entered his mind as he drifted off to sleep was
the sensation that his dad was somehow watching over him.
Somewhere, in the darkness, he was with him.

No One Said Anything About
Shots

Jacob's theory that Dr. Silva would take it
easy on him because he knew about Oswald proved false, and he found
himself sweating over some disgusting horticultural task every
Saturday morning. It was just such a day, when he was weeding the
seedling tomato plants in the raised beds, that Dr. Silva
approached him with a smile that showed a few too many teeth.

"June
10
^th
is just around the corner
^."

"Yes, I know. I'm excited to go."

"Yes, yes, I'm sure. But there are
preparations to be made." She was standing with her hands behind
her back.

He stopped digging and dusted the dirt from
his pants. "What kind of preparations?"

"Roll up your sleeve."

"Why?"

"Oh for Pete's sake, just do it. Would it
kill you to trust me just this once?"

Since she put it that way, he rolled up his
sleeve. No sooner had he pulled his hand away then hers shot out
and grabbed his bare shoulder. Jacob barely saw the glint of the
needle before she thrust it into his muscle like a dart and pressed
the plunger. It was over before he could say, "Owww."

"We are traveling to the Amazon.
Immunizations—just in case." She held up the empty syringe.

"You could have just asked me," he said,
rubbing his arm.

"It hurts more if you can see it coming, or
so I am told."

"You've never had a shot, have you?" he
asked.

"Don't need them," she said.

"I don't suppose you are going to tell me
why?"

"It's not important. What is important is
that we make all of the preparations for our trip."

"Okay. What else do I need to do?"

"Get a passport."

"I don't remember Oswald asking for a
passport when he sent me to Africa."

"Jacob, this isn't like climbing on an
airplane. It isn't a tested form of transportation for humans. If
something happens to me, or we find ourselves in a place with no
trees, you have to have a way to get back into the country."

"As luck would have it, I already have a
passport. My mom always said it was important, just in case. What
else?"

"We will have to stay overnight."

"Huh, why?"

"We need the medicine woman to dream. There
is a ceremony that has to be performed. This can only happen at
night. The Achuar people are a culture steeped in tradition."

"So, what do I tell the Laudners?"

"I will tell John you are helping me do some
research on a new species of plant and the procedure needs to be
performed over 24 hours. I think he will allow you to stay. I can
be very persuasive." She lowered her chin and looked at him through
her lashes.

Jacob felt his heart skip a beat and
internally slapped himself.

He thought about the ruse. It was a good
story but not true. Over the last couple of weeks he'd gotten to
know his Uncle John and lying to him suddenly felt wrong. He knew
he couldn't tell him the truth but he wished he didn't have to lie.
He wouldn't have had a problem lying to Aunt Carolyn or Katrina.
They still treated him like an unwanted pet.

"I'm glad you are asking. I don't think I
can lie to him."

"You are the loyal sort
aren't you? Well, whatever works. I will ask him soon so that we
don't have any problems on the 10
^th
. I don't want John to come
looking for you. That could be a disaster."

"Okay. Shots, passport, permission for
overnight," he recited. "Anything else?"

"No. Just dress appropriately for the
jungle," she said.

Jacob turned back to his work but soon the
weight of her stare became distracting. "Is there something else?"
he asked.

She ran her nails through Gideon's bushy red
hair. "It's time for your first lesson."

Jacob rolled his eyes. That was the deal: a
trip to see the medicine woman in exchange for going along with
this delusion that he was a Soulkeeper. "What do I need to do?"

"Let's worry about what you need to know
first, then we'll move on to do." She began to pace up and down the
row between the flat beds. "There are people all over the world
that work for good, ordinary people that do extraordinary things in
the name of God. But there are also people like you. You and the
others of your kind are not normal people. Your bodies are
different because your blood is different. Your parents gave you
abilities beyond the average human." Dr. Silva was digging through
a pile of gardening supplies. She pulled out a large bowl shaped
liner, the kind she used in the planters at the front of the
house.

"There are three types of gifts that
Soulkeepers possess. There are Helpers, like me, who use their
power to help others. This could mean anything from gathering
weapons to helping someone learn about their gifts. For instance,
training you. Every Helper has a specialty, and as you may have
guessed, mine is horticulture."

"Yeah, horticulture on steroids," he
quipped.

She handed him the bowl and walked to the
side of the house. "Other gifted ones are called Horsemen. They are
warriors. They fight evil by physical force, when all other
interventions have failed. They are soldiers for God. King David,
from history, was a Horseman. So was Moses." Pausing, she took a
long look at Jacob, giving him the distinct impression she was
sizing him up. "And then there are Healers. Healers are very rare.
I've only ever met one personally—the medicine woman. They are the
ones that can tell good from evil."

Jacob laughed. "Since when did it become a
gift to tell good from evil?"

"Since the devil became the lord of
illusions. It's very easy to do evil deeds when you are trying to
do good."

"Hmm." He leaned against the garden bench
and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Healers are leaders because they know what
direction will lead to the greater good. Not only can they heal
people physically, they can heal situations—solve problems. Noah
was a healer. He had to solve the problem of the Ark, of how to
heal mankind." She smiled down at him.

"So, which one am I?" he asked.

"I don't know yet, but we are going to find
out," she replied. Reaching out, she squeezed his upper arm at the
place where she'd given him the injection.

"Owww!" he yelled and pulled away.

"You're not a Healer. If you were, that
would have been healed by now. Tell me what you used in your fight
against that boy at the grocery store."

Jacob remained silent for a minute or two,
rubbing his shoulder. If he said it out loud he'd be admitting that
some part of him believed he had caused the water to move. He
wouldn't be able to tell himself it was a coincidence anymore. Of
course, he hadn't believed it was a coincidence since the incident
with Dane and the water fountain at school but he'd never fully
owned up to the power.

"Water," he said.

"Ah, as I thought, let's begin."

She pulled a hose from the side of the house
and filled up the bowl that was already in his hands.

"How did you know?" he said, staring at the
bowl that she had handed him long before his confession.

"I didn't. I only suspected because of where
and when the fight took place." Once the water was turned off and
the last drops had left concentric circles in the bowl, the liquid
settled in his hands, calm and clear. Nothing happened.

"Now concentrate, Jacob."

"On what? What exactly am I supposed to be
trying to do here?"

Dr. Silva rubbed her chin. Her mouth pulled
into a pout that was so attractive Jacob had to look away.

"Ask the water to point out evil."

He opened his mouth but Dr. Silva held up
her hand.

"Not with your voice. With your mind."

Jacob closed his eyes and pretended to play
along. He was sure he couldn't make the water move again but didn't
want to disappoint Dr. Silva. Not thinking about the water proved
to be harder than he expected. Behind his closed lids he saw the
scene in the parking lot, the water flowing out of the puddle,
between his feet, toward Dane. He saw that afternoon at school when
he'd saved himself from Dane using the water fountain. Why had the
water done that? How had the water done that?

A familiar hum vibrated in his hands. The
water shifted in the bowl. Opening his eyes, he was shocked to see
the liquid spinning like a whirlpool, splashing over the edge. He
concentrated on two words: find evil. The water slowed, then
shifted to one side of the bowl, defying gravity.

The water pointed at Dr. Silva.

"Good, good!" she said. "Yes, I am in fact
the closest thing to evil in the vicinity. That means it's
working!"

Jacob frowned. "What are you?"

"Not now, Jacob. All in good time. We are
just starting to make progress. But pointing out evil could mean
anything. We need to know more. Now, ask the water to jump into
your hand. Think of a weapon. Pretend you want to destroy me," she
said, grinning as if the idea of him destroying her was
preposterous.

Gideon, however, did not seem amused.
Leaping between Dr. Silva and Jacob, he crouched and showed his
teeth.

"Oh Gideon, please!" she said with a small
laugh. She picked the cat up and cradled it against her chest.
"Let's go, Jacob. Show me what you've got."

He closed his eyes and tried to imagine Dr.
Silva attacking him. The water moved again in the bowl, but all he
could produce was a harmless splash that drenched his hand. "This
is ridiculous. If I am truly a Soulkeeper, shouldn't I be able to
walk on this stuff?" He threw down the bowl and turned his back to
her. The water seeped into the ground.

"You have gifts from God, but you are not
God. You just need to figure out how to use the power you've been
given. There's always a trigger, something that allows you to
access what's within you. You just need to find it."

"Right," he said, cynically. "And the
purpose of these gifts would be what?"

All humor drained from Dr. Silva's face.

"To fight the Watchers," she said. "To stop
the evil ones from taking human souls." Her lips were a straight
line and her eyes as sad as Jacob had ever seen them.

"Who are the Watchers?"

"Evil creatures who thrive on the
destruction of humanity. They are called Watchers because they are
lazy creatures who sit back and watch the universe unfold, waiting
until a person is at their most vulnerable before moving in and
destroying them. Under the western world's lexicon, you would know
them as fallen angels."

Jacob, who'd been listening intently up to
that point, slapped his forehead with his palm. "You're crazy. You
have had one too many cups of your own tea." He started walking
toward the gate.

"It's in the Bible, Jacob. The Archangel
Michael cast Lucifer and his followers from heaven and they fell to
earth. It's right there in Genesis. 'The sons of God saw the
daughters of men and took of them all that they chose.' They never
left and it's up to us to hold them back, to keep them from
wrecking all of God's creation all over again."

"Again?" Jacob stopped halfway out of the
gate, the wrought iron latch carving a groove into his palm.

"You're first assignment is to read a
Bible," she snapped. "Lessons continue next week. Don't be
late."

The gate slammed behind him. He didn't say
goodbye.