My Soul to Take

  The faithful tossed roses to the paved street in time for Fana’s tires to crush them.

  REMEMBER HIS VANITY, her father said. IT IS A WEAKNESS.

  Fana did not answer. Their driver, Romero, was one of Michel’s most trusted guards, and although her probe had bounced against his pliant mask, she was certain Michel was lingering close to him. Romero probably could intercept thoughts with her father’s level of skill. She had sliced easily past Romero’s mental defenses, and much of what she had seen turned her stomach. The man was a psychopath, a killer in search of a calling.

  But Michel had given him specific instructions: No one was to touch her or harm her party. That was a good start, so she would keep faith on her end, too. She remembered how Johnny had shot Romero and stopped his heart a year ago, but the thought was gone in a blink.

  A full-stemmed white rose flew in through Phoenix’s window and hit her face, an accident of the breeze. “Ouch!” Phoenix said, touching her cheek. One of the thorns had scratched her. Phoenix stopped singing, and the day grew slightly grayer. Less light. Fana wished she had felt the rose coming, but she wasn’t all-knowing, like Teka said.

  “Put the windows up now,” Dad said, and Romero obliged obediently, despite the enraged obscenities in his head because Dawit had bested Michel’s father, Stefan, twice.

  Jessica fussed over Phoenix’s face, dabbing it with a tissue from her large woven purse. Phoenix told her she was fine, but Mom needed to have someone to fuss over. Jessica sighed heavily at Fana.

  That was an accident, Mom. I wouldn’t have brought her if I couldn’t keep her safe.

  Fana had considered the Blood Ceremony for Phoenix when she first found her, but she hadn’t had time to prepare her. Besides, since Michel had forbidden concerts, how would it look if she gave her Blood to Phoenix, too? She would trust Michel not to hurt Phoenix. Offering trust might help him trust her. Michel liked to live up to his word. His life had been shaped by words since infancy.

  Their side of the freeway had been cleared, so the cars sped on the empty road. They drove away from the city, toward the mountains.

  On the opposite side of the freeway, the crowded lanes toward central Nogales were clogged to a standstill, cars twinking like diamonds in the bright sun. Only bicycles were moving. Roaming drivers milled in conversation beside their vehicles. Vendors strolled between the paralyzed lanes, selling bulls’ horns and bags of fruit.

  So many people! Fana had to shut out their noise.

  The smell of the Shadows came unexpectedly, so acute that Fana’s knees trembled. For the first time since she was three, she longed to swim in the Shadows, if only because of the smell. She had forgotten that any smell could be so strong, flowing through her veins like blood.

  She didn’t ask Phoenix to sing for her again, because she wouldn’t always have Phoenix with her. Instead, Fana directed a thin veil toward the Shadows. The smell softened, but not by much. She wouldn’t be able to filter out the smell without losing other perceptions. And she didn’t want to arrive at Michel’s wearing an ironclad mask, no matter what Teka said.

  “Dear Lord,” Jessica said, her voice soft. She’d closed her eyes. “We know the journey ahead is a difficult one. Only our faith in you gives our legs strength to walk this path. Please bless us as we work to carry out healing in your name. Please bless the Blood, Lord.”

  Exactly what Gramma Bea would have said. Or Johnny.

  “Benedetto sia il Sangue,” Romero echoed her blessing, voice trembling with sincerity.

  “Amen,” Jessica whispered.

  The road climbed into the mountains, winding steeply. Concrete gave way to green thickets, and a new road sprinkled with dust. No other cars passed them, or followed from behind. Military vehicles appeared on the wooded borders, trucks full of disciplined soldiers with shiny boots and perfect haircuts. The troops fell into line and stood at attention as her caravan approached.

  Fana remembered a time long ago, almost in the time before remembering, when she’d wanted to be a princess in a fairy tale. And then Teferi and Teka had come and begun bowing to her—only a little girl! She thought she’d wished it true, and maybe she had. But in her fantasies, she’d imagined a different kind of prince waiting for her.

  They were a mile away, and she had underestimated Michel already.

  His presence loomed taller than the mountain. He shook the leaves in the treetops.

  How would she stand in a room with him?

  YOU’LL DO FINE, DUCHESS. Her father’s constant assurance.

  No one spoke the rest of the drive.

  Peace. No strangers’ thoughts. None.

  As she climbed out of the car, Fana heard only frogs, the ebb and flow of the cicadas’ calls, and the gurgling of a massive fountain with life-size marble sculptures of a man and woman astride horses side by side. Water sprayed a shower above their heads, rainbow halos in the last daylight. The woman on the horse was she, Fana noticed when she saw her mane of dreadlocks. Michel’s likeness carried a medieval-style Sanctus Cruor banner on a tall pole.

  Michel’s face on the statue felt like a slap. Fana blinked away, startled.

  No wonder she had stayed in Lalibela. No wonder she had blocked him for so long.

  The massive courtyard was empty except for their cars. Lush bougainvillea hedges twenty feet tall ringed the courtyard, crowded with bright blossoms. The manicured grass was dotted with sago and pygmy date palms, the ones she kept in her room. The grounds were as well kept as a painting.

  Berhanu, Fasilidas, Teka, Teferi, and Rami surrounded the three women as the group followed Romero toward the dozen marble steps. Dawit walked behind Romero, and Rami fell to the rear. Even Adam hushed his chatter, his bright eyes darting among the new sights as he sat perched on Rami’s shoulder.

  Fana wished they had brought Michel a gift beyond the chatter monkey. But what? She’d been confused about courtesies when she met with health ministers and presidents about Glow, but it was too late to think of better gifts now.

  She was the only gift he wanted.

  The air in front of the palace seemed to shimmer. Michel stood at the top of the palace’s steps, between statues of Vulcan and Venus. Or, they might have been Shango and Oshun. Fana smelled his mental scent, nearly impossible to separate from the sweetness of the Shadows.

  To keep from looking at his face, Fana concentrated on Michel’s bright clothes: white linen slacks and a peasant-style white shirt with crisscrossing laces across his chest. His thick gold Sanctus Cruor ring.

  Michel jaunted down the steps. A large white German shepherd trotted down behind him at a well-trained distance.

  Fana hadn’t expected Michel to meet them at the door, much less alone. He’d been in full regalia the last time she’d seen him, infatuated with ceremony. Now he looked like he was on his way out for a walk. Fana felt overdressed in her silly business skirt and jacket. She wished she could climb back into the car.

  Instinctively, Phoenix began humming “Gotta Fly,” almost under her breath. The song helped Fana escape to other details around her. A man and woman stood in the wings on the steps behind Michel, hanging back—Stefan’s parents. When Fana stared at the woman’s face beneath her white Ethiopian head scarf, she was startled to see herself. Michel’s mother was her twin sister in every way; Teru might be a vision of her future.

  And Teru’s mind was as close to blank as anyone’s Fana had ever come across. Adam’s head was busier than Teru’s! Most of Teru’s mind was still, like someone deep in meditation … but hovering, not listening. The woman’s face was mostly empty, too, except for a tiny smile of anticipation. She watched her days unfold like a dream.

  No one could have scared Fana more.

  Beside Teru, Michel’s father gave Fana a warm, actor’s smile. Stefan’s thoughts were carefully concealed, but Fana could guess what was in his mind. Stefan was a sick man. There might not be enough time to undo his damage to Michel.

  Dawit stopped walking within five y
ards of Michel, and Michel stopped, too. For a moment, standing in silence, they looked like they might duel. Her father’s smile was thin.

  Fana still could not make herself look at Michel’s face. She stared at the Mediterranean tiles at his feet, as close to him as her eyes would go. Michel was wearing suede loafers the same copper color as his eyes.

  Dawit gave Michel the deep bow he would have given a Life Brother. “Michel Gallo,” he said, pointedly avoiding Michel’s preferred title. “We represent the Lalibela Colony. Thank you for agreeing to host us.” Teka had suggested a longer speech, but Dawit had said no.

  “I’m honored to receive you at my home, signore,” Michel told Dawit, appropriately grim. “You are my treasured guests. I’m sorry for our unfortunate beginnings.”

  Her mother’s temper surged in a hot red shimmer. Michel must have seen it too.

  “I’m especially appalled at my role in the terrible loss of your mother, signora,” Michel said to Jessica quickly. “I’ve shed many tears over her death. If it takes eternity, I intend to prove to you that I’m not the monster you think I am.”

  Michel was really talking to her, but Fana still would not look his way. Her mother’s thoughts were churning so furiously that Fana wondered if she would slap Michel. Jessica’s lip trembled, and she gathered a deep breath before she gave Michel a nod.

  “Thank you for your apology,” Jessica said. “You didn’t mean for it to happen.”

  The visit was already a miracle, if only Fana could look at him just once.

  Adam squealed, suddenly bounding toward Michel’s dog. The German shepherd towered above Adam, but the dog didn’t move as the monkey circled him. The dog looked to Michel for guidance.

  “I hope your monkey doesn’t bite. My dog is shy. Aren’t you, Caesar?” Michel joked, and his men laughed. Chatter monkeys were clever, but Michel’s dog had sharper teeth.

  Teka pulsed Fana a query: FANA? She had planned to present Adam to Michel.

  When Fana didn’t answer, Teka bowed to Michel. “Please accept Fana’s gift from our House of Science. The breed is unique to Lalibela.”

  “Your colony’s House of Science is unmatched,” Michel said. “I accept Fana’s gift with humility. You and Dawit are greatly respected by your Lalibela Brothers here, who are eager to see you.” He didn’t remind them of the Brother, Alem, who had brought him the virus.

  Adam bounded to Michel, practically at his feet. He stood on two legs and bowed as he had been trained. “My name is Adam, Most High,” the monkey said in his reedy voice. “I promise to be good, I say the words, but I tell lies lies lies!” Adam had improvised the end of his speech; chatter monkeys were proud of their lies.

  Michel laughed, genuinely amused, and Michel’s parents and guards laughed, too. Any gift that brought laughter was a good one. Michel held out his arms, and Adam leaped to him. Fana knew that fickle Adam wouldn’t have jumped to Michel without a mental prod.

  “Adam is a lonely name for you,” Michel said. “We must find you an Eve!”

  She knew how much he wanted her to look at him for the sake of his faithful who were watching. She tried, but she couldn’t make herself raise her head or address him, even to send him an apology. Would she destroy her mission over such a simple thing?

  Michel snapped his fingers sharply, and Fana nearly jumped, expecting his displeasure. Two girls who looked fifteen came scurrying out of a shadowed corner, dressed in long aprons.

  “I’ve made a promise to some of the girls who cook for me,” Michel said. “You have fans here. They begged for a chance to shake Phoenix’s hand. I hope you don’t mind.”

  To Michel, asking his followers to shake Phoenix’s hand was the same as an apology. Phoenix managed a bright smile, keeping her thoughts about her family’s abduction and detention off her face.

  If Phoenix could smile for Michel, why couldn’t she? Wasn’t she as strong as a mortal?

  Michel had never met the girls before—they’d been chosen by his kitchen matron—but their titters as they approached Phoenix were touching. Both girls wore their hair in prim buns. They were more awestruck by Michel, to be in His presence, but they loved Phoenix, too. As Phoenix shook their hands, the taller one said she was Consuela, the stouter one Pilar.

  “Mucho gusto,” Phoenix told them. “What’s your favorite song?”

  “‘Party Patrol’!” they cried in unison, and dissolved into shy giggles.

  The girls’ giggles made Fana forget that she was avoiding Michel’s eyes, and a careless gaze brushed past him. Their eyes caught.

  The dusk sun amplified Michel’s black eyelashes and honey face, showering every ringlet of his springy dark curls with gold dust. The sky careened out of place, dizzying her. Fana nearly lost her balance, her legs fighting to stand upright.

  I HAVE MISSED YOU MORE THAN I KNEW WAS POSSIBLE, FANA, Michel said.

  If her thoughts hadn’t felt as empty as Teru’s, she might have said the same thing to him. She couldn’t answer, spoken or silently. She had been so angry with him, so hurt and confused, that she had made herself forget.

  Michel’s splendor filled Fana’s eyes with tears.

  Twenty-seven

  At Jessica’s insistence, dinner had been cut short.

  Jessica prayed she was only dreaming again. Maybe she had dreamed the tears, speechlessness, and nervous fever that had gripped Fana since she had first seen Michel. Please, God, let her have dreamed what she’d seen in Fana’s eyes when Fana stared at him.

  Jessica had seen those same empty, glassy eyes when Fana was three.

  Why had she let her daughter come back to him?

  Jessica flipped open the small oval mirror she kept in her purse, checking her reflection. Her eyes stared back at her from her mirror, panicked and red rimmed. No dream.

  Berhanu and Fasilidas were posted outside Fana’s door, but Fana needed guards inside her head, instead. Jessica hadn’t seen Fana cry since right after she had first met him.

  Fana’s strange mood had continued at dinner with Michel’s family. Fana and Michel had sat at opposite ends of the table, but the room had been invisible to them. Fana had been too absorbed by Michel to touch her food.

  Jessica wondered if she was the only one still in her right mind.

  Fana and Teka stood at the window with their eyes closed. He was guiding Fana back to a familiar mental landscape, he said. Strains of rapid stringed music floated into the room through the open doorway, where Phoenix was learning a violin duet with Rami.

  Jessica wanted to leave, but Fana had said she preferred to meet in a private room. And Michel, of course, already had rooms made up for them. The room intended for her and Dawit was adorned with a wooden opium bed identical to the one they had shared in Miami. Leave it to Michel to use stolen memories as decor. Dawit noticed the bed, too, and they shared a painful glance. Did Michel expect her to spend her days in a haze like his mother? Like Fana?

  “Let’s get her far away from him,” Jessica said to Dawit. They had been through this test before, and they had failed. He’d given them their bed to remind them.

  Dawit’s eyes were sad. He couldn’t give up on Fana. “If she will go,” he said.

  Teka opened his eyes, excusing himself from Fana’s side. “She wants to stay,” he said.

  “I need to hear her say that,” Jessica said.

  “Do not assume Michel is exerting influence on Fana,” Teka said calmly. “Remember, Jessica, these are two unique beings with extraordinary mental skills. They react to each other on a physiological and psychic basis. Her thoughtstreams are faster now, but they seem to be hers. I warned her that her response to him would be significant.”

  “I saw him go into her,” Jessica said. “I saw her eyes change.”

  MICHEL’S RESPONSE TO FANA MAY BE NEARLY IDENTICAL, Teka told her privately. He was shy about speaking about Michel aloud in his house, not that it mattered: Michel could hear everything anyway. HE WAS PROJECTING—

  “He coul
d project himself as my grandmother,” Jessica snapped. “It’s a movie screen, Teka. He’ll show you what he wants you to see.”

  “Michel was much more composed than Fana,” Dawit said, agreeing.

  “He has had a year to train himself for her,” Teka said. “I believe—”

  “Stop believing anything about him!” Jessica said. “All you see is what he lets you see. What’s wrong with you, Teka? You know better! Does he have you too?”

  Compelled by Michel, Teka had been piloting the plane where her mother had died, refusing Jessica’s pleas to answer Bea’s chest pains. How could they trust Teka’s advice? How could any of them believe their own words? Their own minds?

  Please help Johnny against him, Lord, Jessica thought, hardly realizing she was praying.

  “Mom,” Fana’s voice said sharply. Fana’s eyes were suddenly wide open and clear. She stood directly over Jessica. TURNING ON TEKA WON’T HELP ME. OR WISHFUL PLANS AGAINST MICHEL.

  Jessica’s racing heart rocked still. How could she have been so careless?

  “Stay out of my head,” Jessica said.

  “We have to work not to hear your head,” Fana said. “Your thoughts bleed everywhere.”

  “Who’s we?” Jessica said. “You and him?”

  Fana looked startled by the question. “Yes. Me and him. Me and Dad. Any of us who are higher telepaths.” Fana was pulling farther away from her, wading more deeply into the fog where Jessica had lost her. If Jessica had known that Dreamsticks would cost her Fana’s trust, she would have let Kira and Bea die long ago.

  Jessica held Fana’s face between her cheeks. “Fana, even if he doesn’t want to … he could be pulling you toward him. Maybe he can’t help it any more than you can. How can you expect him to resist leading you if you make it so easy? At least look at the possibility.”

  “Of course I’ve looked at it, Mom.”

  “Then what’s your strategy?” Jessica held up her mirror for Fana to see her reflection. “How do you check in with yourself?”

  Fana turned her face away from the mirror, as if her image pained her. “Stay with the mission,” Fana said. “Remember my goals. Nothing else matters.”