Soul-Dancer (Page 48)

saw Myra’s body, limp and unmoving.  He stopped cold, reaching out and grabbing her.  Pudding put a paw on her lap, just as she did when Myra was still alive.  She must have followed them there.  He touched her face, then felt for her pulse.  Nothing.  Dead.  Tears rolled down his face, stinging, but he wasn’t ashamed.  He heard the creaking of wood on the pier.  Startled, he spun round to see a small woman stepping out of the shadows, treading carefully.  She reminded him of a cheetah carefully approaching her prey.  “Who are you?”  he demanded.  The woman bowed her head respectfully.  “I am Arym, your third counterpart, the Windsoul.  I control the wind.”  Zak didn’t reply, just stared at Myra’s limp body, afraid.  Afraid of Myra’s death, of his own sanity, and finally, of the woman in front of him.  “Ahh, the Watersoul.  It was always about her.  It was always the Firesoul this, or, the Watersoul that.  No-one even remembers me.  But she’s dead now.”  she said harshly.  Seeing his stricken face, her tone softened slightly.  “I was supposed to kill you too, but I think I’ll let you off.  There’s no need for any more deaths today.”  she said, disappearing back into the shadows almost as suddenly as when she appeared.  Zak then knew what Myra would have wanted him to do.  He kissed her and laid her gently into the canal, watching with sad eyes as she disappeared into the murky water.




When Zak sneaked into the small apartment one last time to grab his things, he also grabbed a few of Myra’s including her notebook.  A piece of her soul that will never die, he told himself.  As he picked it up, a page fell out, floating gently to the ground.  He bent down to pick it up, hair flopping into his eyes.  He read it.

Dear Zak,

I’m sorry, but it was the only way.  I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t know how to put it.  I wish I could be

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