Chapter 3
Magnus was in his bedroom holding up a photo while he masturbated.
“Oh freckles!” I banged my head against the door frame as I turned quick, trying to leave without making a noise.
I had not knocked, wanting to surprise him, yet it was me who got the surprise.
“Duckie?” Magnus shouted, alarm pitched in his voice.
“I’m going!” I turned my back to him, ready to flee. “I didn’t see anything!”
“Wait! Stay!”
Cringing, I paused.
A chorus of cuss words flung out of my brother’s mouth as I heard the bedsheets shuffling, his feet crashing onto the floor, his zipper and belt quickly done.
“Alright, turn around.”
I did and he messily stuffed the photo into his pocket.
He had a photo in his pocket.
I had a piece of paper in mine.
Neither of us asked each other to take out what lay in our pockets.
Magnus always looked like expensive things you weren’t allowed to touch. Donning suits that cost more than cars and heirloom watches. No strand of his hair was misplaced in the slapping of generous oil. Even in his most frazzled state he could appear near omnipotent.
My brother wore a mask. Something he pulled on and off when needed. Most politicians did.
He looked at me with his charming smile, smoothing back his hair, telling me without words to forget the last few minutes.
I did.
He was a politician.
As I would be.
“Magnus,” I said. “I’m going to die in three days.”
“Do not worry Duckie, I will take care of it.” He winked.
I followed him into his ensuite and watched him wash his hands.
He and Cynthia did not share the same bedroom.
Magnus said it was because he worked too late and too early, and it disturbed her.
But really, they weren’t in the same room very frequently at all.
I think that was why they were Soulmates, they both enjoyed their solitude, only meeting in each other’s arms for galas or public speeches and photos that were printed in the paper.
“How?” A demand more than a question.
His mask cracked momentarily. Faint worry skipped through his face. He wanted to take care of it, but there was still doubt.
And I could not have doubt regarding my being alive.
I reached into my pocket and fingered the piece of paper, touching the worn creases and soaking my fingers into the inked words, offering a relief much more promising than my brother’s faint worry.
“Firstly, I can extend your time,” Magnus said. “A week or two after the Execution Battle. You’re busy at work with me and have been unable to have adequate time to find your Soulmate.”
Extensions were common but reserved only for those whose heart was beating wildly to find their Soulmate. One swift monitoring and blood test would show my heart was as still as windless water.
“Giving me more time does not solve the actual problem,” I pointed out. “I need to find a Soulmate.”
“You will find them.”
“How?’’ I held the paper in my pocket tight. “How will I find them?”
“Duckie—”
“I’m going out to dinner tonight,” I declared, fixing things myself. “Late. Don’t wait up for me.”
He frowned. “You and I were going to go over the speech for Tuesday.”
“I have dinner.”
“With who?”
“A potential Soulmate.”
Pure disbelief wound him up, but he said nothing, offering me only a wary glare and then finally relaxed his face. “If you want a night of sex—”
“Magnus!” My face turned warm. “I’m not discussing my sex life with you.”
He rolled his eyes. At least he believed me. “Whoever they are, they do not deserve you.”
“I might be sleeping over.” I twisted the paper in my hand. I think it tore. “Depends on how things go.”
Something irked him but he smiled through it. “Would you like me to make you your cocoa?”
I gave his shoulder a playful slap.
“It’s important you drink your cocoa.” He pinched my cheek like he did when we were kids. “You get nightmares if you don’t.”
I shoved his hand away. “I edit your work and write your speeches. Stop making me cocoa Magnus, it’s embarrassing.”
He let out a laugh. “You’ll always be my little sister, Duck.”
“Speaking of which, you’ll need to start addressing me by my actual name if you want to keep up the De Astor professionalism.”
“It makes us seem relatable. A good family.”
“And when I am declared Soulless and sent into the Execution Battle? Then what kind of ‘good’ family will we appear to be?”
He dropped his smile. “I’m not going to let that happen to you.”
Night came knocking on evening’s door and I drove into the city looking into the rearview mirror when the hairs on the back of my neck told me too.
I skated around the outskirts of the city where urine sprinkled over the pavements more than rain and takeaway shops stunk with MSG. Not my usual outing, unless my brother was cutting ribbons to a new community housing block he had built with our family money.
The paper laid neat on my lap like a comforting pet. I already knew the address by heart, but still, tonight, I needed the touch of it like I needed a friend.
I parked in an alleyway and knocked on a rusted door in the dark.
Mindy let me in.
Big glasses, white coat. Her fingers were steady. That was all I cared about. I found Mindy a year ago when hope was beginning to dwindle and I needed a new venture to save my life. I told myself I was not going to use her. But that was when I had a year, not three days.
“Payment?” she asked.
I pulled out the package from my bag and gifted her enough money for a high-rise in the city.
“Ah, that De Astor wealth.” She slapped it on a table, satisfied without counting. “I’m a little jealous of the one who becomes your Soulmate and lives forever in that manor over in Birming.”
“And who will they be exactly?”
She gestured to a door.
The room was stark white like bleached teeth. Two hospital beds mirrored each other. A table of surgical tools glinted.
There was a young man close to my age wearing a hospital gown sitting up in the bed, bored-like. Upon seeing me he hoped off with a kick of glee and extended out his hand to me. “Charlie.”
“You are aware of who I am?” I shook his hand in turn.
“My Soulmate.”
I had not specified to Mindy who they should be. I did not care for their gender, their appearance or background.
As long as they were willing.
And could shut their mouth.
Mindy was a saviour of the Soulless. Common in the underbelly world. Not a virtuous profession, a highly illegal profession that promised wicked to prevail. I should have reported and assisted in throwing her into prison once I discovered the practice.
However, there was an ache in my heart where a thumping should be, and I stored her away in the crook of my mind, wondering if one day I would need her to save my life.
She engraved imitation insignia. The Soulless attempted to have a “fake” connection usually done by well-trained doctor who could mimic a Soul insignia over a heart.
A tricky thing to master. Like a tattoo but with blood seeping through the layers of the skin.
It did not make the connection real, only appear real.
“You’re Soulless,” I said to Charlie without hiding my disappointment. It was only natural. From the moment we opened our eyes out of the womb we were taught to despise them.
“You are too.” He leaned back, reminding me not to judge.
We were both in a predicament and we were both saving each other with a lifetime of lies and pretend love.
I cocked my head, intrigued. “Do you have problems with conjuring emotion?” I asked him. “I rarely feel much of anything.”
He yawned. “I love torturing cats.”
I tightened. “Oh.”
“I'm probably a psychopath.” He shrugged. “Don’t worry, I’ll support you and whatever your urges are.”
“I'm…I’m a good person,” I said loudly. “I just…I have a hard time feeling.”
“You’re not a good person, you're Soulless.”
Is this what the rest of my life would be like? With him? I tried to imagine loving this man. Unfortunately, I did not find him attractive at all, unless of course —
“Would you consider wearing sunglasses?” I tapped my chin. “Specifically, heart-shaped sunglasses in red?”
“What?”
“What?”
“What?”
“Never mind.”
Mindy pulled her glasses down her nose. “Your heart isn’t looking for it's Soulmate is it? No deep thumping? It’s not safe to put on a fake insignia while you have a true Soulmate, causes blood clots.” She pulled open a cupboard. “This is your last chance.”
I pressed my hand over my heart, just as I did every night when loneliness knocked on the doors in my head. “Nope.”
Charlie checked his own. “Definitely Soulless.”
The door to the room burst open causing both of us to jolt and Mindy to drop a tray of newly sterilized tools.
Police strode in bringing their batons and shouts.
Mindy dropped to the floor.
So did Charlie.
I gathered these gentlemen police were not friends of Mindy.
I raised up my hands in defence as an officer flung his baton to point at my face.
“We’re not doing anything strange here.” I smiled weakly. “Certainly nothing illegal.”