Whisper (Riley Bloom 4)

She turned, her dark eyes narrowing as she regarded me closely. Her hand caught in her hair, twirling a tendril around the very tip of her finger. She said, “I’m surprised they sent you.” She continued to scrutinize me. “You appear much younger than all of the previous Soul Catchers. Much younger, in fact.”

If she was trying to insult me, well, it didn’t work. I just shrugged it right off, or at least that’s the impression I struggled to give.

“The last one they sent was much older. Much bigger too, for that matter—blended right in with the rest of them. Maybe a little too well come to think of it, seeing as he never did find his way out …” Her lip curled as she tilted her head toward the crowd of grunting, lunging gladiators. Her stream of dark curls swinging over her shoulder as she added, “He’s still here. Somewhere. Every now and then I run into him. Or should I say them. Make no mistake, it’s not like he’s the only one who lost his way …”

She was doing her best to intimidate me, and I needed her to know right from the start that while I may look young, and scrawny, and pretty much completely incapable of dealing with any ghost, much less a gladiator ghost—for whatever unfathomable reason, the Council saw fit to assign me. Which clearly meant that despite all outward appearances, I had myself some major Soul Catching mojo working in my favor.

“I know about the others,” I said, crossing my arms before me.

“Do you?” She looked me over, the words spoken so softly I could just barely hear them. Her voice gaining in pitch when she added, “Well, in that case, I’ll just say that you are the very first girl that they’ve sent to these parts—ever. Which is something I find very interesting, don’t you?”

I looked her over, screwed my mouth to the side, acting as though I found it only mildly interesting, if that.

Watching as her cheeks widened, blooming into a sudden smile as she said, “Though, who knows? It’s so very odd it might actually work!” Her face radiant, beaming, but only briefly—the illusion quickly fading when she added, “Though it’s really quite doubtful, to be sure.”

I’d heard enough. I mean, it’s not like I’d traveled all that way to win her vote. My confidence was shaky enough, the last thing I needed was some sparkly princess in a fancy red dress to grind away what little I had left.

I shook my head, narrowed my gaze, and was just about to fire off some well-worn cliché, like: Yeah, well, don’t judge a book by its cover!

Or: Good things come in small packages!

Or: You ain’t seen nothing yet—prepare to be amazed!

But before I could get there, she moved toward me. Bridging the small gap between us, she offered her hand, and said, “Still, there is only one way to know for sure.”

I gulped down a mouthful of hot, dusty air and stared at her waiting, outstretched hand. All too aware that I’d just reached the part that usually, if not always, wound up dragging me headfirst into a whole heap of trouble.

And yet, that still didn’t stop me from smiling as I took it in mine.

I mean, it was just like she said, there was only one way to know for sure, and I had to start somewhere.

5

While I’m not exactly sure what I expected to happen—I did expect something to happen. In the past, that sort of hand-to-hand contact always led to me finding myself trapped in some super scary world that I had to fight like heck to bust my way out of. Which is why I was a little more than surprised to find us still standing there, hands still clasped together as the girl smiled and said, “You may call me Messalina.”

I nodded, continuing to brace for the big, dramatic thing. But when it didn’t happen, when it turned out to be just your standard, everyday kind of handshake, I freed myself from her grasp and said, “I’m Riley. Riley Bloom. And while it’s been really great talking to you, the thing is, I have a job to do. I really need to find a way to get through to Theocoles. So, if you have any helpful hints, any sort of insider info, I’d love to hear it. But if not …” I shrugged, figuring there was no need to mince words. “Well, then we should probably say our good-byes since I really need to move this thing along.”

I’d just barely finished, when she did the most unexpected thing: Instead of getting mad, or huffy, or completely offended—she laughed at me.

She stood right there before me and laughed in this gorgeous, girly way I would never be capable of no matter how hard I might try.

When I laughed, my cheeks spread too wide, my eyes went all squinty and watery, my nose turned bright red, and if it was something really funny, well, this horrible sound—a cross between a snort and a honk—would find its way out, which usually just got me going again. In short, there was nothing pretty about it.

But when Messalina laughed, it was reminiscent of wind chimes tinkling in a light summer breeze. Her shoulders lifted in a way that made her long glossy curls bounce and sway, as her cheeks flushed the color of rosebuds, and her eyes sparkled in delight.

It was almost too much.

Almost enough to make me dislike her right there on the spot.

Bringing her heavily jeweled fingers to her mouth, she finally quieted down enough to say, “Are you always in such a big hurry?”

I took a moment to consider, then said, “Yes. Pretty much always.” Unable to see what was so funny.

But when her eyes met mine the weirdest thing happened—all the annoyance that just a moment before threatened to consume me, just melted away. The feel of her gaze so comforting, it was like slipping into a warm, inviting bath.

“Well, that’s too bad,” she said. “That just won’t do around here. Ever hear the saying: When in Rome, do as the Romans do?”

I shrugged, stared at my feet, not wanting to let on that I hadn’t. Not wanting to look completely stupid in her eyes.