Secrets & Souls - prequel to The Soul Guide
Chapter 10

Mellissa sat opposite Carlo, a warm drink in her hand. The last of the customers had just left and Giuseppe had already climbed up on the couch next to her, his huge head resting in her lap.

“So, now we have time to talk, do you want to tell me where Bertram is?” Carlo asked.

Mellissa took a sip of her coffee, savouring the delicious flavour. “He’s back at Clayhill. We had an argument. I needed to get away.”

Carlo nodded. “I see.”

Mellissa suddenly felt the need to explain, to get the whole sorry argument off her chest. She sighed, biting at her lip. “He wants more from me, Carlo, and I cannot give him what he wants.” She wasn’t sure why she felt the need to tell him, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself.

“More?”

“He thinks he’s in love with me,” Mellissa said, knowing that he more than thought it. That he was in love with her.

“And this is a problem because?”

Mellissa pulled at a thread in her shirt, she wasn’t about to go down that road. “Because I do not love him, not like that.” It was half the truth.

“Do not, or won’t? There is a difference, Mellissa.”

“Don’t. I don’t love him.”

Carlo steepled his fingers beneath his chin. “OK,” he said.

“We argued, I had to leave. I needed space. I didn’t have anywhere else to go.” Mellissa could feel tears of frustration welling in her eyes. Why did Bertram have to go and ruin everything? And more to the point why was she so willing to tell Carlo all about it. She wasn’t usually so… chatty.

“I understand that it is difficult for you, Mellissa. To know that he loves you and to not be able to… ricambiare. How do you say in English… reciprocate, eh?”

“Yes, it is.”

“But put yourself in his shoes for a moment. Imagine how he felt to be rejected in such a way. It hurts. It will hurt him, and now you see fit to leave him behind. I do not think that was wise.”

Mellissa frowned. She wasn’t expecting Carlo to be so blunt with her. She had expected him to be on her side, not give her a lecture. “I cannot help the way I feel,” she said. “I can’t be forced to love someone.” She placed the mug on the table between them and crossed her arms defensively. Giuseppe grumbled in her lap.

“I am not saying that you should. Love should always be given freely. What I am saying is that it was a mistake to leave him alone. No doubt his heart is broken. He will be suffering, Mellissa. You may not love him, but he is your friend, is he not?”

“Please, don’t,” Mellissa said, her own heart lurching in her chest. She felt terrible. Carlo was right, she knew he was hurting, she’d felt it, and she had left him anyway. She closed her eyes briefly trying to reach out along their connection, but found that she could no longer feel him at the end of it. Was it because he was so far away? Or was it something more than that? Mellissa looked at the cup of half-drunk coffee on the table in front of her and wondered if that was the culprit. She resolved not to drink another mouthful.

“I do not speak the truth to hurt you. I speak the truth to help you. I believe that you need Bertram, as much as he needs you. Together you are stronger.”

Mellissa looked at Carlo. He was speaking about the two of them as though he had known them both for years. In reality, he’d only known them for a few short minutes. How could he possibly be in a position to make such a statement?

“What do you mean, Carlo? Why do I get the feeling that you know more than you’re letting on?”

Carlo smiled. “I am observant, that is all. It comes with the territory. People come here, they talk, they don’t talk, but I hear everything. I understand what they do not. It is a gift, I suppose.”

“What, the same kind of gift that allowed you to weave a spell into the coffee you gave me?” Mellissa caught the look on Carlo’s face and knew she’d hit a nerve. He was trying to hide his surprise, but she saw it. He was not the only one who could read a person.

“I am not a weaver of spells, Mellissa. That would imply that I am a witch and I am not one of those.”

“I sense a ‘but’ coming…” Mellissa said.

“But,” he said smiling. “I do understand a little about the human heart, about what makes it tick. I use herbs, spices and other natural ingredients to help sooth fraught emotions. When you were here last, I sensed you needed peace, that Bertram’s feelings were making you uncomfortable, were draining you. I simply put together a brew to help with that.”

“Well, it certainly helped. I couldn’t…” Mellissa started, but pressed her mouth closed before she revealed anything else. This past month had been peaceful, that is, until this morning when everything came rushing in like a bull chasing a red cloak. For the previous four weeks, she hadn’t even noticed the fact she couldn’t hear Bertram. It was as though she had forgotten that she had that ability, like she had been walking around in a fog or something. She frowned, uncertain how she felt about that now.

“You say it helped, but it seems you are not so happy about that. Am I right?”

Mellissa chewed on her lip. She felt confused. “I’m not sure. I’m not sure about anything now. Who are you Carlo?”

“I am no-one special Mellissa. I am a middle-aged Italian who can make a good cup of coffee and has the ability to listen to those who need me to.”

“Ha, I distinctly remember you saying the same thing to me, Carlo, and we all know that’s a lie. You’re way more than that.”

Mellissa jumped at the voice coming from the back of the café. She turned to see a girl, no more than fifteen, walk towards them. She was grinning like the Cheshire cat, her long, white-blond hair a veil down her back.

Giuseppe got up off the sofa and bounded over to the girl, his tail wagging furiously. She bent down and threw her arms around his neck. “It’s good to see you too, Giuseppe,” she said laughing, whilst he licked her face.

Carlo got up and held his arms open wide. “Hello, Genevieve. I thought you were coming with your brother tomorrow?” He kissed the girl on both cheeks and embraced her before pulling back.

“He cannot make it now. He is busy with his training. He sends his love.”

“Ah, that is a shame. I was looking forward to seeing him.”

“I know,” she said. “So, who’s this?”

Mellissa locked eyes with the girl who seemed to be looking around her, rather than at her.

“This is Mellissa. She is… new here,” he said. Mellissa couldn’t help but notice the look he gave the girl. The kind of look that said, ‘don’t say anything foolish’. “Mellissa this is Genevieve. She is la mia famiglia.”

“Your family?” Although Mellissa’s Italian was almost non-existent, she understood enough to know that.

“That’s right, Carlo is the closest thing to a father Victor and I have. Ours died when we were very young. Carlo knew our mother well, she used to bring us here every week when we were small. When she passed, Carlo kind of took us under his wing. He’s a good man,” she said, giving his arm a squeeze.

A few minutes ago, Mellissa would have agreed. Now, she wasn’t so sure. She didn’t know what to think.

“You don’t think he is?” Genevieve said, picking up on Mellissa’s uncertainty.

“No. Yes. I mean I don’t know what to think.”

Genevieve gave Carlo a look and sat down next to Mellissa grabbing her hand. Mellissa tried to pull away, but Genevieve held it firm turning Mellissa’s palm upwards. She traced a gentle finger over the lines. “I can see you’re special, Mellissa. You have strong lines, a great aura…”

“Genevieve,” Carlo warned, but she ignored him.

“It’s fine Carlo,” Genevieve said. “Mellissa is like us.” sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ FindNʘᴠᴇl.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“What do you mean?” Mellissa asked. She felt the hair on her arms stand.

“Didn’t you know? You’re pure of course.”

Carlo threw his hands up in the air and started talking very quickly in Italian. Genevieve giggled. “Oops,” she said. “Me and my big mouth.” She winked at Mellissa who, despite herself, smiled. Genevieve was such a pretty girl, with deep brown eyes, and a cute button nose. Mellissa reckoned she got away with an awful lot.

“Carlo, I really don’t see what the problem is. Mellissa can only be here because she is pure, right? It’s the same for all of us. Why the secret?”

“Because, sometimes people need a little time to be introduced to the idea. I was getting to it until you interrupted.”

“Psht,” Genevieve said, flicking her hand at Carlo as though he were an irritating wasp. “Mellissa is not stupid, I can tell she suspects something is going on. Were you going to tell Mellissa before or after she accused you of poisoning her?”

“I do not poison people,” Carlo said indignantly.

Genevieve laughed. “Of course, you don’t. I was kidding.”

Carlo muttered something under his breath, before wandering off to the counter, presumably to make more coffee for them all. Mellissa eyed her half-drunk cup, she wasn’t sure she’d ever drink one of his brews again despite how delicious they tasted.

“He really doesn’t you know,” Genevieve said, before picking up Mellissa’s cup and taking a sip. She wrinkled her nose “Eww, it’s gone cold.” She placed the mug back down. “Sometimes people, the Pure come here in a bit of a state. He doesn’t like doing it, but he will give them the Forgetting, if they ask of it.”

“The Forgetting? What is that?” Mellissa asked.

“It’s one of Carlo’s special brews. Well, not quite like the brew he gave you. It doesn’t just suppress emotions, feelings. It’s much more powerful. It’s a potion that makes them forget.”

“Forget?”

“Yes. It is not easy being what we are. Sometimes it becomes too hard, seeing what we see and knowing what we know. He thinks I do not know about the Forgetting. But, I am not stupid. I see, and hear things too. If any of the Pure ask to forget, Carlo will oblige. He does it to help them.”

“He said he wasn’t a witch,” Mellissa started.

“He isn’t. Just because he mixes brews, potions, whatever you want to call them, it doesn’t make him a witch. Carlo is good, Mellissa.”

“Are you saying witches exist?”

“What do you think?” Genevieve asked with a wry grin.

“I think I need something stronger than coffee.”

“I’m pretty sure Carlo keeps alcohol upstairs in his flat. Shall I go get some?”

“No, no it’s fine,” Mellissa said, shaking her head. “So, you mentioned the Pure, that I am pure. What do you mean exactly?”

“Yes, I did,” Genevieve said. making herself comfortable. “Well, the Pure are people like you and I who are a little more, you know, special than the average person.”

“Special?” Mellissa frowned. Surely this girl didn’t know who she was, what she did?

“Yes, you must’ve heard of mediums, clairvoyants and that kinda stuff? Well, they are all Pure. They are a little more aware of people, the world around them and, most importantly, what lies beyond.”

“Lies beyond?” Mellissa stiffened in her seat. Was she talking about the Veil?

“You know, the afterlife, silly. The place where people’s spirits go to after they’ve died.” Genevieve said.

“Where do they go to? People’s spirits, I mean.” This should be interesting, Mellissa was looking forward to Genevieve’s response on this one.

“See, here’s the thing. No-one really knows for sure. Somewhere beyond, you know, beyond here. To the place where all spirits walk. We like to call it Zenith.”

“I see,” Mellissa said, relieved that there was no mention of the Veil or the souls within it, or anything else she knew to be true, for that matter. Clearly this girl, Carlo, and all the other ‘Pure’ had their own view on how things worked and providing it didn’t interfere with what she had to do, then where’s the harm?

“So, what can you do?” Mellissa asked Genevieve, relaxing into their conversation now she didn’t feel so threatened.

“I read people’s auras. Yours is quite beautiful by the way,” Genevieve said, her eyes glazing over slightly. She held her hand in the air around Mellissa’s head, touching what others couldn’t see. “The purest white, edged in gold, like freshly fallen snow on a crisp, sunny day.”

Mellissa raised her eyebrows, shocked. “That so?” she said. What Genevieve had described wasn’t her aura, she had described Mellissa’s soul. Mellissa felt Carlo’s gaze on her and she turned to see him watching them both from behind the counter. He was giving her the strangest look.

“You alright Mellissa?” Genevieve asked.

“Erm, yes, sure,” she said, not really knowing how to answer that. She thought that she was the only one who could see a person’s soul. How was it that Genevieve could too?

“Good, I thought perhaps I’d scared you.”

“I’m not scared. It’s all a little… strange, is all. So, you can see people’s auras?”

“Yep, always have. Neat huh?” Genevieve said. She was so blasé about it. Mellissa hid her shock.

“Well, now you know what Carlo and I can do. What’s your gift?” Genevieve asked.

Mellissa thought quickly. There was no way she could tell Genevieve or Carlo who she truly was, but she had to tell them something. Maybe there was a measure of truth in what they were saying. Yet, they couldn’t know as much as she did and she certainly couldn’t tell them the whole truth either. She thought quickly. “I’m a little like Carlo, and a little like you in fact. I read people by their… auras.” It was a half-truth, she could read people, but it was their souls and not their auras that she read. She could also deliver souls, and travel to the Veil but she wasn’t about to mention that.

Genevieve’s face lit up. “Wow, I’ve not met anyone who could do what I do. I’m so glad we have met,” she said, and threw her arms around Mellissa.

Mellissa patted her on the back, not used to such exuberance. She supposed it was Genevieve’s age. She was so young, so vital. Her soul was the soft pink of a budding rose with threads of silver running through it. She’d never seen anything like it before. It was quite magnificent. There was a vibrancy about it, a youthfulness. Carlo’s soul was different. It was a soft blue, edged in orange and purple, like the sky at dawn. Before, when she had visited with Bertram, she had thought it pretty, but, like a lot of the other souls she saw daily, it didn’t seem special at all. Now when she looked at it, really looked, there was latent power about it. As though his soul wasn’t quite showing its true colours, its true potential. Something very odd was happening here.

Genevieve pulled away, and misunderstanding Mellissa’s frown, said, “He means well, Mellissa. Carlo is extremely good at reading people. He understands what we need, even when we don’t. He wouldn’t have given you the drink to harm you. He would’ve only done it to help.”

Mellissa considered what Genevieve had said. Despite feeling as though she hadn’t quite been herself this past month, Carlo had been right in assuming she needed space from Bertram, from his thoughts. He may not know quite how well the drink had worked, but it had provided her with some respite from Bertram’s feelings and emotions. She’d wanted to find a way to distance herself from his thoughts, and the drink had certainly achieved that.

“Do you really think Carlo wants to hurt you?” Genevieve pressed.

Mellissa turned back to Genevieve. “No, no I don’t.” Despite the weird conversation and the feeling that all was not as it seemed, she knew enough to know Carlo was a good man. His soul was proof enough of that.

“Well, I’m glad to hear it.” Carlo said, as he sat back down opposite them both and placed more coffee on the table. “Your drink has gone cold. I got you another one. Do not worry, there is nothing in it. Just coffee. I promise.”

“Good,” Mellissa said. “It is difficult for me to trust people, Carlo. Next time you think of putting something in my drink I’d like to know about it first. I want to have a choice.”

“That sounds fair,” Genevieve said, taking a sip of her drink.

“Of course, Mellissa.” Carlo pulled a face.

“What?” Mellissa asked.

“Do you think Bertram will be as understanding? You weren’t the only one to have one of my special concoctions. I do hope he is OK.”

“Carlo, should I be worried?” Mellissa asked. “What have you done exactly?”

He grimaced. “Well, that remains to be seen. Everyone reacts differently.”

“Bertram? Who’s Bertram?” Genevieve asked.

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