Soul Protector (Soul Protector Series) Read online

  I did as I was told, and the icy water felt cold against my dry mouth, crashing me back into the present.

  “Thanks,” I croaked, my voice not sounding right. I tried again, “I think I’m okay now.” What the…? That really doesn’t sound like me.

  I lifted my hand to my face to wipe away some water which had spilled down my chin, and as I did, I caught a glimpse of my ring. In fact it was Lydia’s new diamond ring, but it was on my finger. Embarrassed, I scrabbled to get it off, but as I clawed at my finger, it was no use. The ring wasn’t budging.

  “What’s wrong?” MyPhil asked. His face was pulled into a worried frown. “Do you want to sit up?”

  “Yes, I think..,” I couldn’t get used to the higher pitch of my voice. “I think I should go to the Ladies.” I needed to get away from everyone and sort myself out.

  “Let me help.” There was my voice, but it was the other Gracie who had formed the words.

  She reached over to put an arm around me. I shrugged her off. “I’m fine, really.” I didn’t want her help. She was freaking me out.

  Panic was making me hot and sticky, causing my perfume to intensify and take on a different aroma. All I wanted was to get away from everyone so I could try and figure out what was going on.

  I grabbed my bag, turned my back on their bewildered faces and made my way over to the toilets at the back of the restaurant. As I walked across the room, I felt different – taller.

  I was aware that some of the other diners were staring at me, so I focussed down at the wooden floor. That’s when I caught a glimpse of my feet. The boots that had been excruciating earlier were gone, and in their place was a pair of elegant black shoes I didn’t recognise.

  I opened the door to the ladies and was frustrated to see several others in there, washing hands and applying lippy. I made my way into a cubicle and turned to shut the door. That’s when I saw my reflection for the first time. It definitely wasn’t me. Looking back was a tall, attractive girl with long blonde wavy hair. I was looking at Lydia.

  I banged the door shut, and sagged onto the toilet seat. This can’t be happening. I took in a deep, shaky breath, and blew it out slowly. I reached into my bag and pulled out my pocket mirror. I flipped it open and sure enough, staring back at me was not the face I’d had reflected back all my life. Beautiful brown eyes stared back into my own. I shot a hand up to my face and, trembling, I traced Lydia’s features. I touched her long lashes, neat nose and full lips. Everything felt alien.

  I closed my eyes and shook my head. There had to be a logical explanation, I just couldn’t think of one. My mind was racing, and it was a struggle to order my thoughts. But the more I tried to focus the more I became aware of a ringing sound in my ears. It was a bit like hushed voices, but there was nothing I could make any sense of.

  From outside my cubicle I heard another voice loud and clear, my voice.

  “Lydia, are you in there? Is everything alright, hun?”

  Damn, ‘Gracie’ must have followed me in. But I was Gracie and if I was in Lydia’s body, was she in mine?

  “I’m okay,” I said, trying to erase the panic from my voice.

  I needed to talk to her to try and understand what was happening, but I didn’t want to start sounding like a mad woman in front of these other people.

  I stood up, praying my wobbly legs would support me, unlocked the door and walked out of the cubicle. I could see she was looking at me with concern, but she definitely wasn’t at the same level of panic that I was.

  “You took the wrong bag,” she stated simply, holding out Lydia’s bag towards me.

  I looked at the bag I was holding, my bag, ‘Gracie’s bag.

  “Come on Lyd, Phil’s getting worried. He’s going to take you home,” she said, holding her other hand out towards me.

  I reached out to grasp it with just one thought. I wanted the nightmare to end and everything to go back to normal. With this in mind, I had that weird disorientation thing again. Dizziness overwhelmed me, and I could see bright lights. I really thought I was passing out again. I squeezed my eyes shut and waited for the buzzing tone to disappear. And when I opened them, everything had gone back to normal. Just like that. I was facing the other way now, looking at Lydia. She was staring into space, like she was in a daydream. The other women were carrying on as normal, putting on their make-up and chatting. Not one of them seemed to have noticed something extraordinary had just occurred.

  I flicked my eyes across to the giant mirror above the washbasins to confirm that I really was me again.

  “What. Just. Happened?” I asked, fighting to keep my voice calm.

  Lydia snapped out of her daydream and met my gaze. “What… Oh, the fainting thing?”

  She took in my serious expression and laughed. “Don’t make a big fuss, Gracie. I think it was the excitement of my Phil proposing. I felt a bit lightheaded and I guess I just passed out, but I’m fine now. Come on let’s go back to the table.”

  I exhaled sharply. Unbelievable. It was as if she had never left her body. What’s wrong with her? What’s wrong with me?

  We made our way back to the others, and everyone started fussing around Lydia. She refused MyPhil’s attempts to take her home and played it all down. She said she was fine, maybe too much wine or something.

  But I wasn’t fine, I was completely traumatised. I decided to say nothing on the subject for the time-being. I had a thousand questions running through my mind and my head was throbbing, so I passed on dessert, made my excuses and left early. No one was too concerned. They were all still worried about Lydia.

  The whole walk back to the flat, the body-switch thing played through my mind on a loop. What the hell was all that about? I went over and over the details, but I couldn’t find a logical explanation.

  I let myself into the flat and replied to Kerry’s text to let her know I was home in one piece. Unable to shake off the surreal feeling, I decided to try and sleep on it. I told myself things would seem better in the morning - they always did. I grabbed a glass of water and made my way to the bedroom, convinced I wouldn’t be able to switch off my racing mind. Minutes later, I fell into an exhausted sleep.

  CHAPTER 2

  .

  The Daily Grind

  .

  Sitting at my desk on Monday morning, I couldn’t concentrate on the ‘woman in work’ feature I was supposed to be pulling together. Instead, I sat staring into space, gnawing on my pen. I was wondering if I had sanity issues.

  The previous day had been torturous. After only a few sips of wine at the restaurant, I’d had a day-long hangover. I’d spent hours curled up on sofa, eating Hobnobs and drinking gallons of water, googling anything to do with body-swapping or switching. All I found were links to films, books and hoaxes. It wouldn’t have been as bad if I could actually talk to someone, but if I did, I was sure they’d call the men in white coats to cart me away. My whole world had tilted and I had to keep it to myself, at least for the time-being.

  I jumped as a door banged and my boss, Camille, came out of her office. She approached my desk, and threw some more work into my in-tray.

  I noticed her appearance had changed. When she’d sauntered in late she’d had the au naturel look. Now her face was fully-made up, and her long hair, which had previously been scraped back in a ponytail, was straightened and glossy. Also there was the distinctive smell of freshly-applied nail polish. That explained why she’d had the blinds to her office pulled down for the previous hour.

  “Right, stop whatever you’re doing, Gracie. These are more important. I need them by lunchtime.”

  I gritted my teeth and nodded.

  She gave me a sickly smile, turned on her heel and disappeared back into her office.

  I wasn’t exactly enjoying my job at Elevate ‘the magazine to elevate your small business.’ My previous supervisor, Mel, had been lovely. But a couple of months before, like so many others, she’d migrated to a more glamorous magazine. Camille had just moved dow
n to London from Leicester and fancied working in the magazine trade. Conveniently, she was the Editor’s niece, and hey presto, Uncle Donald gave her the job.

  Apart from the fact I had utilities to pay, the main reason I could stomach working for Camille was that a position had come up in-house as a writer. And I loved writing articles. I often got asked to do a feature if it was a lean month, and some of the official writers asked me to polish their articles before they submitted them. In order to get the promotion, all I had to do was keep my head down and work hard. D-Day was coming…

  I finished the work Camille had thrust on me, and then tried working through lunch to catch up with the article I should have done earlier, but it wasn’t happening. I was again consumed by the events of the previous evening. And it was like I had two memories. One was from being Lydia - of waking up with MyPhil trying to get me to drink the water, and the absolute shock of finding myself in her body. But I also had another memory from my own point of view. I remembered seeing Lydia fall to the floor and feeling concerned about her, but definitely not under the impression that any body-switching had taken place.

  I heard a deep grumble as someone nearby cleared their throat. I looked up to see Arthur, the guy I sat next to, peering over the top of his privacy board. I loved Arthur to bits. He had snowy white hair that stuck out in wisps above his ears, and glasses that sat perched on the end of his nose. He probably should’ve retired years ago, but I was glad he hadn’t.

  “Heavy night last night, Gracie love?” he asked, smiling at me.

  I knew what he was insinuating. “I am working Arthur, I’m thinking through my research.”

  “Ahh, that’s why you looked miles away then, I thought maybe you had something on your mind.”

  “No, no,” I said trying to shake off any hint of anxiety. “I’m fine.”

  “That’s good. I was going to suggest tackling whatever the distraction was first, so you’d be able to concentrate on your article. Won’t be necessary though,” he said, winking.

  Did I mention Arthur was incredibly perceptive? He was right of course. I knew if I didn’t confront this thing head on, I was going to drive myself crazy.

  I tried to focus on a way forward. The only other person who’d been involved was Lydia, so it was obvious I had to speak to her again. There must have been something unusual she remembered. It didn’t matter how small or insignificant, I just had to find out if there was anything at all.

  I turned to my PC and tapped out a quick email to see if she was going to be home that evening. A message pinged back a few minutes later to say her BMW was at the garage and MyPhil was away on business, so she’d love some company. She’d added the code for her secure parking spot, so I scribbled it down on a Post-it and stuck it in my bag. As much as I hated the drive to Greenwich, it was still better than taking the tube.

  The rest of the working day I achieved the square root of zero. I still had the ‘woman in work’ feature to finish, and in order to get the promotion I knew I had to make a good job of it. I popped my research notes in my bag and resigned myself to finishing it off at home before coming in early the next day to print it off - my punishment for wasting time. At five-thirty on the dot I switched off my computer and tore out of the office.

  ~

  Exactly thirty-five minutes and one argument with a security guard later, I pressed the buzzer at Lydia and MyPhil’s loft apartment building. It was in a converted warehouse, and while it may have only been a few miles away from my flat in Crystal Palace, with its exposed brickwork and steel beams, it was worlds away in price and style.

  Lydia’s face appeared on the video screen in front of me, “Come on up, Gracie,” she chirped, buzzing me in.

  When I came out of the lift, Lydia was waiting with the door open. Her hair was tied in a loose knot and she was wearing cream sweat pants, a long cream cardigan and slouchy beige boots. She looked stunning. Only Lydia could do couch-potato chic that well.

  “Green tea or cappuccino?” she asked, leading me through into the pristine purple and shiny steel kitchen. I pulled out a stool at the granite work surface. “I’d love a cappuccino, please.”

  I heaved myself onto the seat, and twisted it round to look through the large balcony windows. Across the river, the lights of Canary Wharf twinkled against the backdrop of early evening sky.

  “Cookie?” Lydia asked, emptying a packet from the bakery up the street and taking a chocolate chip one herself. Where does she put it?

  “I’m supposed to be on a diet, but why not?” I shrugged and helped myself to one with plenty of chunks.

  Lydia fixed our drinks, and pulled out a stool next to me. I took a good look at her, studying her expression. Nothing seemed out of place.

  “Lydia,” I said in a low voice. “On Saturday night, before you fainted, did anything weird happen to you?”

  “Weird. Like what?”

  “Well, did you have…sort of… an out of body experience?”

  Her eyebrows shot up, and she started to laugh. “It was amazing that my Phil proposed,” she said, giggling, “But I wouldn’t call it an out of body experience.”

  “So, apart from fainting,” I carried on, “nothing strange happened… at all?”

  “Gracie, what are you going on about?” The smile faded from her lips, and the next words came out snippy. “Saturday night was fab. I had a little too much wine, a little too much excitement, and I fainted. It happens. I wish everyone would just stop going on about it.”

  “Okay, I’m sorry.” I sagged. “I won’t mention it anymore.”

  “Good.”

  Lydia took a sip of her drink, and her face brightened again.

  “Did I tell you my Phil is taking me to Brighton at the weekend? I’ve got a day off tomorrow so I’m going clothes shopping for it. I can’t wait. I’ve got my eye on a new handbag...”

  As she spoke, I sat quietly sipping my cappuccino, occasionally wiping froth from my upper lip. I was only half-listening though, my mind was elsewhere searching for other options. Should I come clean and tell her I was in her body the other night? No, absolutely not. I could hardly bear to imagine the conversation in my head, let alone say it out loud. My stomach muscles tightened as I thought how it would go. Something like, ‘Hey Lydia, you know when you passed out on Saturday night? Well the reason for that was because it was me controlling your body, and I fainted from the shock of it all. Don’t worry though; I managed to switch back again, so no harm done.” It was just too ridiculous for words.

  As she carried on, unaware I wasn’t really listening, an idea struck me. If I could make it happen again, I would know for sure if I was right, whether it definitely had happened. The more I thought about it, the more I knew I had to try. But how did it work? I closed my eyes for a moment and tried to visualise myself crossing into Lydia’s body.

  Lydia raised her voice and cut through my thoughts, “Gracie, are you listening to me?”

  “What? Oh yes. Sorry, Lyd, carry on.”

  I kept my eyes open this time, as I imagined my inner self transferring to her body. I held my breath and tensed every muscle in my body. Nothing happened, so I drew in a deep breath, and tried again.

  Several attempts later, it was obvious it wasn’t working. I kept my eyes focussed on Lydia and drained the last of my cappuccino. I had to work out how it happened before. I thought back to Saturday night, to the exact moment I switched, and then later, to the switch-back. My heart beat faster as something clicked in my mind.

  “I just remembered, I have to go,” I announced, interrupting her mid-sentence.

  She stopped talking and stuck her bottom lip out in exaggerated disappointment.

  “Sorry Lyd, it’s a feature for work and I've got to hand it in by tomorrow morning.” I hopped off my stool. “Thanks for the coffee.”

  “Oh, fine then. Will I see you soon?”

  “Of course. Sorry for rushing out on you.”

  I’d remembered exactly what happened on S
aturday night and I had to act before I lost my nerve. I leaned into Lydia, and hugged her tight. I closed my eyes and wished with all my heart that I could switch into her body.

  A few strange moments passed, and I had to hold onto the work-surface to steady myself. Then, hardly daring to open my eyes, I found myself in the familiar position of looking at my own face.

  CHAPTER 3

  .

  Second Switch

  .

  Yes! Switching is real. I was relieved the world had gone crazy, and not me. I paused to consider how I’d weathered. My legs felt a bit wobbly and I was breathless, like I’d just come off a rollercoaster or something, but apart from that, I was okay. I wondered if it was because I’d been expecting it that time.

  ‘Gracie’ returned my gaze with one eyebrow raised.

  I knew what she was waiting for, and I really wanted to give her confirmation, but I was scared to say the words out loud. Last time Lydia hadn’t remembered me being inside her head, only the actions.

  I wished I’d thought of a signal beforehand to confirm the swap had happened. There was nothing I could do, even if I got the message across without Lydia realising, I didn’t know if she would think rationally, or start jumping around the room like a mad woman. That, Lydia would remember.

  ‘Gracie’ heaved a sigh, and a resigned expression settled on her face. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. It was all so weird. Usually, when I looked at myself, my reflection imitated my movements precisely. But this version was independent. She looked different from my usual reflection as well. I noticed the little scar on my cheekbone was the other side to where I usually saw it, and one of my eyes looked fractionally higher than the other. But this was my true self, how my friends and family saw me as opposed to the mirror image I was used to seeing.

  “Better crack on with this report then,” she said in a flat tone, making her way towards the door.

  I hesitated, wondering whether I should take the opportunity to hug her again and switch back, but I quickly decided the main crime was switching in the first place, not the length of time I stayed. I had to try and find out something, anything, to make sense of the whole body-hopping drama.