Элизабет Чандлер - Soulmates

Nine feet more.

"Some pretty interesting letters from your mother," she told him.

Eight feet.

"And a medical report as well."

Seven.

"I turned them in to the police an hour ago," Ivy said.

Six feet. Gregory stopped. He stood absolutely still. So did Ivy. Then, without warning, he lunged for her.

Tristan arrived at Will's just as a dark car pulled away from the house.

With his sharpened vision, he saw the man inside: he wondered why the detective who had investigated Ivy's assault was visiting Will.

Will stood alone on his front porch, so deep in thought that Tristan couldn't find an easy way to slip in. He saw a pencil in Will's pocket and pulled it out, but Will didn't notice. Tristan tapped the pencil against a wooden post and wrote his own name with materialized fingertips, underlining it twice, amazing himself with the new strength he felt in his hands.

"Tristan!" Will said, and Tristan slipped inside.

He didn't waste any time. "Ivy needs help. She's gone to the bridges, thinks Gregory took Philip there. It's a trap."

"Have to get my keys," Will replied mentally, and hurried inside.

"No!"

Will stopped and looked around, confused.

"Just run. Run!" Tristan urged.

"All the way to the bridges?" Will argued. "We'll never get there in time."

"I'll get you there," Tristan said. "We can do it faster off the road, out of the traffic." He knew how crazy it sounded, just as he knew somehow it was true. The last darkness had given him more strength than he had ever had, powers that he hadn't yet tested.

"Trust me," Tristan said. "For Ivy's sake, trust me," he pleaded, though he had never completely trusted Will.

Will took off, and they moved together as one. Tristan could feel Will's bewilderment and fear. What was happening to Ivy? What was happening to his own body, taken over by Tristan? What did people see?

"I don't think they see us at all," Tristan said. "But I don't know much more than you."

They were on the winding road now. As they traveled strange voices rose up all around them. Were the voices inside his own head? Tristan wondered. Or was it Will's mind rebelling? Maybe they were human voices pressed together the way space seemed to be compressed as they raced across the landscape.

The voices murmured at first and seemed indistinct, but now they grew louder and clearer-noisy jabbering and clear singing, dark voices threatening and high voices arching over all the others.

"What is it?" Will cried, covering his ears with his hands. "What am I hearing?"

"I don't know."

"What is it? I can't stand it!" Will said, shaking his head as if he could shake the voices out of him.

Tristan was experiencing more than the voices. He was seeing things he had never seen before-scared animals hiding behind trees; jagged rocks, though they were covered completely by leaves; roots buried deep in the ground.

They were at the clearing now, and he saw the tracks behind the wet screen of trees. As they rushed toward the bridges the high voices grew higher and ore intense, the low grew deep and furious.

"Demons," Will said, trembling, as they came upon the bridges. "It's demons we hear."

As soon as Gregory lunged for her, Ivy turned and ran. There was no way around him on the narrow bridge. As she started running she saw the headlight of the train, like a small sun brightening the fog, rushing through the trees close to the bridge. She couldn't make it to the other side in time-she couldn't beat out the train. But there was no turning back. She had Philip's bright red jacket. If she waved it, the engineer might see her.

Gregory was gaining on her. The whistle sounded again, and Gregory laughed. He was only a few feet behind her, laughing and laughing, as if they were playing tag in the park. He was insane! He didn't care; he'd die with her as long as he could kill her. With each stride he moved closer-she could see him out of the corner of her eye. In desperation, Ivy threw Philip's jacket on the track behind her. It blew and tangled around Gregory's legs. Gregory stumbled. She glanced back and saw him go down on his knees.

Ivy kept going. She could hear the long rumble of the train and ran as hard as she could toward it. If I she put enough distance between herself and Gregory, she could try to find a place to cling to some finger hold beneath the track to dangle from.

"Angels, help me!" she prayed. "Oh, angels, are you there for me? Tristan! Where are you?"

"Here, Ivy! Ivy, here!"

There were voices all around her, calling her name. She slowed down. Were they just echoes in her head, the sound of the wind being twisted by her frightened mind? Then she saw that Gregory had stopped, too, listening for a moment, his face shining with sweat, his eyes wide, their gray centers ringed with white.

Then Ivy heard one voice clearly. "Ivy."

She recognized it. "Will!" she exclaimed.

He was running along the opposite track, calling to her. The other voices rose behind it, and a dark fear rushed over her. It's some trick, thought Ivy. It's all part of Gregory's plan.

Gregory started after her again, and Ivy rushed on.

Will was running with incredible speed along the parallel bridge. He had caught up to her and was three steps ahead of her when he reached the end of the old bridge.

"Ivy!" he yelled. "Ivy, over here! Leap!"

She stared at him across the seven-foot gap. All around her voices called and chattered, the high voices ringing in her ears and making her head feel light, the low voices drawing her down in despair.

"Leap!" he shouted, stretching his hands out toward her.

Even if he caught her, there was nothing to keep him from tumbling over the side with her. She'd kill them both.

"Ivy, leap!" It sounded like Tristan's voice.

"Ivy, leap. Ivy, leap," Gregory taunted. He had topped running. He was walking backward on the track now, watching her, watching the clearing where the train would appear any second, his face flushed and a trickle of blood coming out of his nose. His eyes shone-brilliant, triumphant, insane.

"Tristan!" Ivy called out.

"He's here," Will said. "He'll help us."

But she didn't feel Tristan within her and she didn't see him glowing inside Will.

"Where?" she cried out. "Where?"

˜"Where, where?" the deep voices mocked. The train thundered onto the bridge.

"Tristan, where are you?" Ivy screamed.

"Reach for her, Will. Reach for her!"

Will reached out, and Ivy leaped. For a moment a golden arc shimmered between the two bridges, holding up Ivy and Will. Then they fell onto the old track, clinging desperately to the edge so they wouldn't roll off.

The train rushed along the new bridge, and Gregory started running for the opposite bank. Ivy and Will pulled themselves up and screamed at the train till their throats burned. Their voices were drowned out by a growing wave of dark jabbering, an ominous rumbling of voices so deep they seemed to come from beneath everything that lived.

Ivy and Will watched helplessly as the train bore down on Gregory. He'd never make it. He'd have to try to leap to the old bridge. The voices began shriek. Ivy held her hands over her ears, and Will gripped her tightly. He tried to turn her head away, but she kept looking.

Gregory leaped, reaching up, his arms flung forward, his fingers reaching out. For a moment he stretched like an angel, then he plunged into the mist below.

The train rushed past him, never slowing. Ivy pressed her face against Will. They held on to each other, barely breathing. The tumult of voices murmured and ceased.

"Chick, chick, chick," one sad voice sang out. "Who's a chick, chick, chick?"

Then all was silent.

"One box of tissues," Suzanne said Saturday night. "Help yourself, girls. One large pan of brownies."