Soul Taker

by William Massa

  Father Cabrera. A member of the White Crescent, a division of the Vatican dedicated to fighting demons and performing exorcisms around the world. Our paths had crossed years earlier in Poland when I was hunting the Beast of Barakal, but that’s a tale for another day. I stared at the priest with big eyes, not sure what to make of his sudden appearance. Was he chasing the same evil as me?

  And then I remembered that Father Cabrera had gone missing two years ago. Word in the occult detective community (yes, there are a few of us who hunt the shadows) was that he was dead, the victim of a demonic nightmare he failed to exorcise.

  For a beat we regarded each other, not sure what to make of each other’s presence in this surreal storage facility.

  “I wish I could say I’m happy to see you, Simon, but you being here means you got caught in the same trap I did.”

  A sad smile played over the exorcist’s age-worn features.

  “Father Cabrera, what are you talking about? What are you doing here? How did you get into this place?”

  “The same way you did, my friend. I walked right into Asmadina’s web, determined to put an end to the witch.”

  “What are you saying? You've been trapped in this warehouse for—”

  “For two long years,” he confirmed. Cabrera’s gaze gleamed with despair. “Or at least that’s what Asmadina tells me. Time flows slower within these walls. A day here can be months on the outside. In here, you don’t sleep, you don’t eat. You exist only to amuse the witch.”

  I was grasping the full horror of what Father Cabrera had experienced. The only living soul in a wasteland of dead objects, doomed to go on for as long as Asmadina drew amusement from the exorcist’s suffering. And now, Simon Kane was cursed to become just another item in the sorceress’s collection.

  “I won’t accept that. There has to be a way out of this fucking hell.”

  “Look around, Kane. Do you see an exit?”

  My eyes traveled over the sea of antiques that surrounded us. I recognized none of the items in my vicinity. It was almost like some invisible force had subtly altered the collection when I wasn’t paying attention.

  A chill spread in the pit of my stomach.

  “This isn’t an ordinary labyrinth. It’s a living maze. You’ll only be able to leave if Asmadina wants you to. This place is her world, her game, her rules. There’s no escape. Believe me, Simon, I tried everything.”

  Well, damn. I had underestimated Asmadina. She was more powerful than I could have imagined. To control a space of this size, to shape it into her private domain while she still exerted influence in the outside world, was a mean feat.

  But she wasn’t the only one with a few tricks left in the bag. I wouldn’t let her win without a fight.

  “Not everything. Stand back.”

  I clutched my Hexblade tighter as I reached into the lidless glass coffin and snatched my father’s skull. My shoulder exploded in agony. Exactly as I thought. Though long dead, a residue of the black magic my father had wielded still simmered in his remains. And that meant the bones were vulnerable to the power of my white magic knife. I held the athame over the skull. I still didn’t grasp the full extent of Asmadina’s plans, but I knew she hadn’t gone through all this trouble to see me destroy the most recent addition to her sick collection.

  I pressed the white magic blade gently against the skull and yellowed bone sizzled.

  “You hear that? Let us go, or else I’ll destroy your prize!”

  My words hung in the air.

  Cabrera stared at me, his eyes squirming with fear, not sure what to make of my latest move.

  “Don’t anger her. She’ll merely send her construct after you,” he cautioned.

  Before I could ask him what he meant, the walls of antiques shifted and parted, revealing a passageway. Could it be the way out of this nightmare?

  “Now we’re talking. C’mon, Padre. Let’s go.”

  Cabrera shook his head, not encouraged by my cocky response.

  “You can’t threaten her, Kane. She’s too powerful.”

  The man before me was a shadow of the formidable demon hunter I’d first met in Poland. Two years trapped in this hellscape could do that to the best of us. I didn’t intend for the same thing to happen to me. I was getting out of here. Now. If Cabrera wouldn’t come with me, there was nothing else I could for the priest.

  I spun away from the exorcist and shot down the newly formed passageway. For a terrifying moment, I imagined the walls of antiques closing in on me from both sides and crushing me like a compactor. I pushed the fatalistic thought aside and ran as fast as my legs allowed me to without tripping over the mass of junk everywhere. To my amazement, the exit jumped into view in the near distance. Asmadina was letting me leave! She would not risk me destroying my father’s skull.

  My whoop of victory died in my throat.

  A giant of a man dressed in a gray suit suddenly emerged from the wall of antiques up ahead and blocked my path.

  I skidded to a halt and studied the massive mountain of muscle barring my escape. The stranger had to be close to six-foot-seven and probably weighed about three hundred pounds. His beady eyes regarded me blankly. I leveled my Glock at the gorilla. Rune-engraved blessed silver bullets will stop both man and supernatural beast with equal effectiveness.

  I rarely use my firearm on humans, but if the situation calls for violence, I will not hesitate.

  The man took a step toward me.

  My fingers whitened on the trigger.

  “Back the fuck off,” I said in my best tough-guy voice.

  He paused for a beat, and then his fleshy face began to dissolve, melting into a featureless gelatinous mask. His suit followed, blending into his gray skin like clay.

  I realized this had to be the construct Father Cabrera had warned me about. The thing appeared to be a golem, a magical being used to protect its master—a glorified guard dog. Call me not impressed.

  I emptied a full magazine into the creature. The monster recoiled and backed away with each successive blast, its groan of pained surprise echoing through the warehouse. I guess the golem was getting its first taste of blessed ammo.

  Bon appétit, fucker.

  I ejected the empty magazine, slammed in a fresh one, and continued to fire. The hail of silver kept pushing the monster further and further away from the exit. I had hoped my bullets would destroy the construct, but unfortunately it turned out to be a little tougher than first expected. The creature kept picking itself up after each new barrage, weakened and pissed off but far from being defeated. I was sure my Hexblade could stop it for good, but I wasn’t too eager to get that close to a creature that outweighed me by more than a hundred pounds.

  Luckily, I didn’t need to.

  I’d reached the exit.

  I took a final glance at the maze of antiques, hoping with all my heart that Father Cabrera might have followed me. There was no sign of the priest. Asmadina had broken the exorcist’s spirit.

  I hated the thought of leaving Cabrera behind like this, but what choice did I have? Already the golem was recuperating from my latest volley. As the construct rose to his feet, his bulk looming over me, I knew my time was up. I was fresh out of bullets and had to put some distance between myself and the creature.

  I made a silent vow to return for the exorcist and walked through the exit.

  And then I was back in the deserted parking lot. A powerful sense of gratitude filled my lungs as I sucked in a sharp breath. The sun burned bright outside even though it had been the middle of the night when I entered the warehouse. I recalled Father Cabrera’s words—time flowed differently within the walls of the nightmarish structure that housed Asmadina’s sick collection.

  My roaming gaze found my Mustang, and that’s when the whole parking lot began to spin like a carousel. The world became a violent blur and my stomach lurched up my throat. I lost my balance and hit gravelly asphalt.

  Pain shot through my body as my surroundings stopped s
pinning. I squinted through the haze of agony and realized with horror that I was back inside the warehouse.

  It was as if I’d never left the storage facility.

  The skull of my father in my hand suddenly felt like an albatross around my neck, dragging me down to the bottom of a dark ocean. A sad voice emanated from the walls of antiques. It belonged to Father Cabrera.

  “I told you. There is no escape.”

  And this time, I didn’t doubt the exorcist’s fatalistic words.

  Chapter Sixteen

  A spray of steaming water engulfed Vesper's body. The water was almost too hot for comfort, but she welcomed the stinging sensation. It was a good pain that reminded her she was alive.

  Once done with her shower, she turned off the water and toweled herself off. Between her earlier drink and the hot shower, she felt drowsy. She slipped on her plush bathrobe, staggered toward her waiting bed, and collapsed. To her surprise, sleep came easily for once, and within seconds she was dead to the world.

  When she woke, it was early morning. Generally, she operated on six hours of sleep or less, so she was surprised to learn that she’d been out for twelve hours straight. The long rest was working wonders; she felt a lot better, even refreshed.

  Then the memories of what had happened to her came crashing down.

  For thirty more minutes, she remained under the covers, reluctant to face the world. This mansion no longer felt safe. Dark forces could easily find her within these walls; she now knew this with absolute certainty. But she couldn’t hide in her bed forever. She had to get up, confront her fears. Confront the world.

  Over the last twelve months, she’d put her life on hold, but no more. Time to stop hiding, to stop being afraid. It was the dawn of a new day for a brand-new Vesper. One who was bold and brave and got what she wanted.

  Starting with some caffeine.

  She gave herself an internal push and shoved the covers aside. The sun felt warm against her skin. As she got up, she took in the majestic view of the Pacific Ocean outside her window. There was a whole wide world out there that she’d turned her back to over the last year. Darkness lurked beyond these walls, but there was also great beauty. For too long, she’d clung to the false idea that no one could hurt her ever again as long as she hid in this house. Asmadina’s attack had shattered that illusion.

  And perhaps that was a good thing.

  She got dressed and headed downstairs. As she helped herself to a Monster energy drink (she needed a dose of Taurine with her caffeine), she wondered what Simon was up to. The coffee maker appeared to be untouched. Simon always started his day with a cup of joe, so he had to be still asleep. The events of the last night was taken a toll on him too.

  She remembered the deep concern etched across his attractive features when he first showed up in the temple, recalled the relief he’d experienced when he realized she was okay.

  Simon Kane cared for her. There was no doubt about it.

  Her mind turned back to the moment in the cave when he’d stepped up the altar, knife in hand. There had been nothing menacing about his arrival. To her eyes, he was a knight in shining armor. If she was honest with herself, she wanted to be held again in those strong arms, desired maybe even more.

  Get a hold of yourself, girl, she thought. She would rather pretend these feelings didn’t exist between the two of them. They had a great thing going—why rock the boat and turn a brilliant partnership into something far messier?

  Sipping on her energy drink, she headed to the living room, took a seat behind the computer, and plunged headfirst into the internet. She'd set up Google alert for any news stories with a supernatural angle. Ten emails were already waiting for her, and it was her job to separate the hoaxes and false alarms from potential real cases.

  After about half an hour, she was done with the first phase of her morning and her boss still hadn’t made an appearance. She kept stealing expectant glances at both the nearby staircase and the hallway. Where was Simon?

  He should be up by now. Even if he’d gone for a morning hike in the mountains—an activity Vesper frowned upon, considering his growing enemy list—he should have been back by now. Worried, she started combing the mansion and calling out his name. The villa had never seemed so enormous to her, and she had never felt so alone within these luxurious walls.

  After twenty minutes of fruitless searching, she headed straight for Simon’s bedroom. The man never slept in. Sure, he was a bit of a night owl like herself, but he also typically woke up before she did. Maybe he was just exhausted. This case was hitting too close to home and was taking a lot out of him. But she had to check just to be sure.

  She knocked on the door, but no one answered. A glance into Simon’s bedroom didn’t ease her growing anxiety. The bed appeared to be untouched. Her boss had not spent the night in his room.

  Vesper returned to the living room and dialed his cell number. Three attempts later, she had to accept that no one was going to pick up. She bit her lips. Her initial unease was turning into a sense of dread. Had Simon left the mansion last night after she’d passed out?

  There was only one place she thought he would go. Asmadina’s antique warehouse in the City of Industry.

  A quick look at the electronic security system revealed that both the BMW and the ancient Ford Mustang were missing. How could Simon have taken both cars for a spin at once? Something was wrong here.

  Relax, she told herself. Don’t panic and think this through.

  She forced herself to calm down. What should she do? Who could she call?

  Her best bet was to involve Detective Sanchez, the closest thing to a friend Simon had in the city. To her relief, the detective picked up on the third ring. Detective Sanchez liked to flirt with her on the phone, and usually Vesper was willing to trade a bit of harmless banter. Unfortunately for him, she cut right to the chase. Without going into the more outlandish details of the case, she brought the detective up to speed.

  She told Sanchez about Asmadina, her warehouse, and how Simon had gone missing. Sanchez assured her he would look into the matter. Vesper drew some comfort from the determination in the detective’s voice even though she knew he was just an ordinary man up against forces he didn't understand.

  She ended the call and tried her best to be productive while she waited to hear from the detective. The next hour turned into a psychological endurance test. As she filtered through the news stories of the day, her mind remained distracted, and she caught herself more than once stealing an impatient glance at her cell phone. Why was it taking so long?

  When the cell finally rang, she almost jumped out of her skin. Her throat tight with tension, she answered the phone.

  “I’m at the address you gave me,” Detective Sanchez said. “There’s only one problem. I’m standing in an empty parking lot. No sign of a warehouse or any building.”

  A chill crept up Vesper’s neck.

  “That’s impossible,” she said, vividly recalling the records Simon had pulled up last nigh.

  “I’ll take a picture,” Sanchez promised.

  A second later, an image of the industrial parking lot appeared on her phone.

  The detective had told the truth. The area was empty.

  “I’m sorry, Vesper. Do you have maybe another address we could check out?”

  The detective’s voice grew distant on the other end of the line as she set the phone down. She robotically typed in the address of the antique warehouse. Her eyes widened with increasing dread.

  The other night, Simon’s search had produced multiple hits. Now there was nothing. Not even one story came up. It was almost like the warehouse had been nothing but a figment of their imagination.

  Screw that idea. She vividly recalled looking at the warehouse’s website and seeing the photographs of the place.

  How could all that information have disappeared overnight? It was impossible.

  Nothing is impossible with magic, her inner voice whispered.

 
There was only one conclusion to be made. Last night, Asmadina wanted to be found, and now she didn’t.

  “I’m sorry, Detective, let me get back to you,” Vesper said. She ended the call, her mind churning. She sensed Simon was in trouble, but what could she do? She was helpless, useless.

  But Vesper refused to sit around idly and do nothing. Perhaps Sanchez had missed something in the parking lot. The man wasn’t attuned to the supernatural the way she and Simon were.

  The sudden thought of venturing out into the outside world, to head right into the heart of danger, made her body shake all over, and she hugged herself tightly.

  Simon needs you.

  Vesper swallowed hard and headed back upstairs to her bedroom. She ignored the instincts that told her to crawl back under those covers. Instead, she picked up the Glock Simon had gifted her for self-protection a year earlier. The weapon was the same type of pistol Simon used, loaded with the same silver rune-engraved blessed ammo.

  When she’d first received the Glock, she’d practiced in the target range downstairs (this house had a private shooting range, how fucking cool was that?), but those sessions had become less frequent over the last few months. Lulled by the false safety of the mansion, and with no intention of leaving anytime soon, practice hadn’t seemed important to her.

  As she picked up the Glock and weighed it in her shaking fingers, she prayed she could still handle the weapon. Taking a deep breath, she slipped on the shoulder holster, tucked the pistol inside and headed back downstairs.

  Her next stop was the garage. Crossing the area between the mansion and the parking bay made her nervous. Even though the entire property was gated, she felt naked and exposed by being outside like this. Was she going to do this? Was she ready to head back out there?

  There’s no safe place in this world except for the one you create within yourself, she thought. If you feel strong inside, you can go anywhere.