The Devourer

by C H Chelser

“Long ago, you warned me that not all wounds will heal in a lifetime. Yet you made them bearable. What more could I hope for?” She kissed the slender fingers with almost pious dedication. “Without you, I would never have found the courage to see this through. Yes, I dread it, but I must. I want to. Not just for Danielle, but for all innocent souls who are at risk.”

  Silence enveloped them where they stood, their fingers braided and Mercedes resting her forehead lightly on Anne’s shoulder. Given time and peace, they might have remained so for hours, but they had neither. Before long, Anne gently broke the spell.

  “We all have our innocents to protect, my dear,” she said, cupping Mercedes’ cheek. “Tell me how I can help.”

  “I must cross again if I am to find M’sieur, but I do not dare leave my body unattended.”

  “Understandable. Who knows you’re here?”

  “Any ghost may be able to sense my presence, but the dangerous ones have more interest in my soul than my body. Of the living, I told only Inspecteur Baudoin of the police.”

  “A policeman? Was that wise?”

  Mercedes recalled the inspector’s hopeful gaze. “I have reason to believe that he can be trusted. The real threat is Eric’s sister. She is a cunning minx and she knows about my frequent visits to you.”

  Anne smirked. “Madame Talbert, you said? Yes, I remember her. Made her fair share of calls on my expertise over the years. She has a son, no? He’s a decent fellow, but that woman.” She tutted. “My door will remain locked while you are away, my dear.”

  “Mind that the inspector might call. If he does, it is important that he can prove I did not lie to him about coming here.”

  “Then I shall just have to entertain him until you’re fit to speak again, shan’t I?” She winked seductively.

  “Anne!”

  “All right, all right. I shall be civil, I promise. Besides, the bed will already be taken. By you.” She took Mercedes by the hand, to the tiny room on the other side of the curtain. “The mattress is a bit lumpy, I’m afraid. The straw needs changing.”

  She removed the grey horsehair blanket and exchanged it for a colourful quilt, the one she used only for the kind of customers who purchased nothing from the shop.

  “My washer woman returned it this morning so if it smells, it’s just the river.”

  “That should put me in the right mood,” Mercedes said, sarcasm rearing up to shout down her growing fear. She had never managed to cross by her own power. Now she had to, somehow. The prospect twisted her innards into a nauseating bunch. She sensed presences nearby; the usual spirits roaming about a busy city. None of them matched Jean’s signature.

  From here on out, she would have to go it alone.

  “Lie down, my dear. It will be more comfortable.”

  She obeyed when Anne steered her onto the bed. Her body lay back of its own accord, but didn’t unwind. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The pillow smelled of straw, and of Anne. A pleasant scent.

  “Be careful, my dear, and good luck.” Warm lips pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I will watch over you.”

  Before her mind’s eye the stairs appeared that Jean had shown her, but no sooner had she started to descend than the doorway of the threshold loomed in front of her. On the other side, waiting impatiently, stood the gamin she had met a while ago. He gestured for her to come closer.

  ‘But, I cannot cross.’

  ‘Any fool can see that,’ his clear voice resonated as he gestured again. ‘Come on, give me your hand. Hurry!’

  She complied despite expecting the perimeter to fling her back. She thrust her hand forward as far as it would go. A ripple shimmered in the doorframe, just as the gamin’s fingers touched hers.

  The next instant, Mercedes found herself once more adjusting to existence without physical boundaries.

  ‘Follow me,’ the boy said, dismissing her thoughts of gratitude. ‘I’ll take you to him. Or as close as I can get you.’

  Their surroundings changed. Colours faded and from the morphing swirls of energy the quai des Gesvres emerged, halfway between the Pont Notre Dame and the Pont-au-Change. The same spot, she now realised, where she had last seen M’sieur.

  The quay was not quite deserted, but what passed her were faint outlines, like forgotten memories. The boy had brought her to a secluded plain, then. A step away from the crowd, like Jean had shown her. Yet she had to be close to her own world for it to appear with this clarity. The scaffolding along the Pont-au-Change was exactly as she had seen it not two hours ago. Only a vague veil of grey betrayed on which side of the threshold she stood. She didn’t recall seeing with such accuracy last time she was here.

  The boy leaned over the stone parapet, peering at the river. ‘He senses you.’

  She had no doubt that he did, or who ‘he’ was. ‘Will he speak to me?’

  No reply. The gamin had vanished.

  A chill swept by her. Colourless fog began to rise from the river and spread out with unnatural speed. Or was it she who shifted unintentionally to a lower plain? Perhaps so, but to her right the scaffolding disappeared from the Pont-au-Change, while to her left the pump of the Pont Notre Dame churned the waters as if it had never been shut down. Not to mention that the bridge itself had not its current five arches, but six. Like it had had years ago.

  This was not the Paris she knew.

  She gazed down at the river, as the boy had done. Down below, the Seine flowed rapidly, gurgling and swirling in the wake of the pump and the narrow arches.

  ‘I would not recommend leaning further,’ a dark voice drawled. ‘Even experienced swimmers drown here.’

  Chapter XXIV

  A flurry of astonishment surrounded the woman as she focused on him.

  ‘M’sieur!’

  Beneath the strange form of address, her pulsating memories of their last encounter slithered from her grasp. Some dissipated, others broke on his shield like waves on a pier. He refused to acknowledge them, or her. In this close proximity to her, maintaining an impenetrable barrier took all of his concentration. Any repetition of his previous lapse was impermissible.

  Which broached the question why had he made his presence known to her at all?

  ‘The bridge,’ she began when her thoughts reshaped. ‘In my world, they are preparing to demolish it.’

  Despite the impervious darkness that enveloped him, his resentment of the idea must have shown, because she nodded and gazed at the wild water below.

  ‘The river is important to you. I imagine its bridges are, too.’

  Neither thought posed a question. Nor would he have been inclined to provide an answer had they done so. The point was moot. She already knew what he had done.

  Dainty lilac tendrils danced across his shield, inviting him to lower it. He did nothing of the sort. The tendrils turned brown with dejection and withered.

  ‘Today I spoke with an acquaintance of mine,’ she continued. ‘He reminds me of you.’

  Against his better judgement, a pinprick of curiosity flared in the darkness.

  ‘He, too, carries himself in the same strict, rigid way whenever confronted with something repugnant. Perhaps it is a professional habit?’ She caught his gaze. ‘Inspecteur Baudoin is a policeman, you see.’

  He did not waver, he did not flinch, and he most certainly did not indulge her poor attempt at subterfuge.

  ‘State your business and be done with it,’ he growled.

  Soft pastels became vivid colours, contrasted against each other with sharp distinction. As before, some strands contained no colour at all.

  ‘You know why I came,’ she said, ‘and I dare to surmise that you are here now for the same reason.’

  A shapeless yet clear understanding passed between them. For all the danger he posed to her, she would not make herself his enemy, just as he could not afford to become hers. He diffused his shield as a sign of truce.

  ‘I need you to be my eyes,’ he said.

  ‘And I need your shield to
survive while I do so.’

  Protection. She sought protection, both to receive and to give. Not to him, of course, but to… others. Had she not made mention of a child? A child, children. Juvenile creatures, no wiser than the parasites that crawled through the fog. He harboured no particular sympathy for them, but even so he had sheltered them on more than one occasion.

  ‘What is righteous must be protected. What is wrong must be hunted down and punished.’

  The woman smiled with bright green sparkles. ‘I certainly agree with one of those sentiments.’ She placed her hand on his arm. ‘Please, M’sieur. Let us finish this.’

  ***

  Prepared for the sensation of darkness, Mercedes didn’t fight the increasing pressure as they shifted. M’sieur’s external barrier expanded further, wrapping around her aura as they dived deeper. She sensed a restlessness in him, but his coat, his primary shield, deterred her from inquiring. Just as well she shouldn’t alienate him again. Not now. He made no conscious effort to reduce the unnatural weight of the void, but his presence made it bearable. Thus shielded, she could devote her full attention to the soul signatures around.

  She extended her senses in search of any trace that resembled the signature of l’Autre. Armed with this improvised name as a filter, the soundless clamour of souls dimmed to an occasional flare from those who recognised the signature she broadcast. Most were just the astral equivalent of rumours and hearsay. They bore no clear lead, never mind a recent one.

  An abrupt halt jolted her so hard that she lost her shape for a moment. Upon gathering her mind from the far reaches of the fog, she found that they had halted at a threshold of another kind, there where the last blur of light faded and the deep darkness began.

  ‘How long will you last?’ M’sieur asked, gazing into the void.

  Mercedes tested the barrier around them. ‘Within your shield longer than without.’

  He stood perfectly still, like a predator waiting in ambush. ‘We have but one chance. Another instance of weakness on your part will be the end of it.’

  An amber spike pierced his thick coat, startling him.

  ‘If either of us were to show a moment’s weakness,’ Mercedes hissed, giving the spike a push, ‘we become the prey in this hunt. Need I remind you, monsieur, that I rely on you as much as you are forced to rely on me?’

  He sneered. ‘My concern lies elsewhere.’

  Mercedes caught a flash image of the sentinels that had broken up their previous, too-intimate altercation. While avoiding that sensitive subject, she nevertheless urged him to consider the statuesque beings.

  ‘When l’Autre forsakes its proper plane, do the sentinels not respond? I had expected they would have caught a rampant devourer like that by now.’

  ‘You credit them with too much,’ he said. ‘Sentinels are guards, not hunters. They are too slow to intercept a shifting soul. Only when one remains in the wrong place for too long will they be able to intervene. Relying on them is no more useful than the faith you have put in that guide.’

  Mercedes bristled. ‘I will have you know that he has exposed himself to the sentinels, too,’ she snapped and shared her recollection of that encounter.

  He regarded her memories with indifference. ‘A mere confirmation of their uselessness. They attack without any discrimination between intention or action. To them, merely lingering too close to the light is sufficient to incarcerate a soul.’ He snorted. ‘Those that do, never return. I have no desire to invite further interference on their part.’

  ‘Yet if we stay here, we still risk attracting their attention, while l’Autre only needs to wait out what time I have.’ Her acknowledgement of his warning mingled with bouts of red determination. ‘Unless we go deeper, the other will escape again.’

  His coat condensed in response to his irritation. ‘The darkness dims your colours too much,’ he growled.

  ‘That did not pose a problem before, did it?’

  He swivelled and bared his teeth at her. Just briefly, they were too long for his face. ‘Inquiries can be made by candlelight, madame. The chase and the capture, however, require a proper line of sight. One you cannot provide at those depths.’

  ‘Then you propose we remain here?’

  A sour tang of acid permeated the space between them. ‘Much as I detest it, there is no alternative. Only here is there sufficient darkness where the creature can be comfortable, and sufficient light for you to retain your strength.’

  ‘Then how do you suggest we lure it out?’

  The instant the question formed, she sensed his answer. Eyes black as tar carved it into her mind for good measure.

  Her energy turned endless shades of yellow and green as M’sieur let it bleed through his shield. Not the small measures he had fed his supposed informants before, but thick strands of colour that spread out in every direction and across plains. A bright lure for a monstrous fish.

  Very well. If her part was to come down to this, she would not disappoint again.

  Abandoning all caution, she drew heavily on the fear, anger and indignation boiling inside her heart and issued forth that fire to fuel her beacon. Her mind travelled still farther, seeking furtively and touching on every responsive signature, triggered for the one that matched their prey.

  ‘The parasites are restless,’ M’sieur remarked. Between the words drifted images of hungry little mouths that whined at sustenance they dared not approach. Directing her senses to the grey plains, Mercedes noticed the low creatures scurrying about. Like crows hopping around a wolf’s kill. Anxiety sharpened her senses.

  ‘I cannot feel him,’ she whispered. ‘All the signs say he is near, but I ca—’

  A silent cry scattered her thoughts as a presence barrelled up from the deep, shredding through her web of colours like shears through cloth. It came straight at her; like a child in the path of a runaway cart, she froze in terror.

  A mere moment before collision, M’sieur’s thick cane shot out. The presence bucked from the sudden obstacle and veered away, never slowing its breakneck speed.

  ‘Where did it come from?’ Mercedes gasped, but winced when the cold claws of M’sieur sank into her mind. His intentions, sharp as ice, coerced her into focusing on where the other demon had disappeared to.

  ‘Intercept! Guide me!’ he barked, himself more monster than man as he dashed upwards to give chase.

  Mercedes locked onto his trail and followed, lighting their way through worlds of night and fog. Without the deepest darkness to swallow the signature, l’Autre’s position stood out as distinctly as her beacon had.

  The monster shifted fast – and upwards. Ever upwards. Around them, the fog gained colour. The faint streets grew clearer, now bearing the semblance of the city she knew. And still l’Autre darted closer to the threshold.

  ‘Good God, it is going to make a kill!’

  At her outcry, beams of light shot from her fingers to mark the devourer’s trail, but the demon was already out of their reach. She could sense its hunger flaring as it came up to the very edge of the threshold. Without the slightest effort, teeth and claws of sheer darkness reaped a prey of their own. Her light revealed the monster coiling around its catch, grasping it firmly before diving as fast as it had surfaced; all in a split second.

  M’sieur’s tangible hatred lashed out at the retreating monster, but missed by a fraction. His frustration rang as clearly as his determination to pursue the creature into Hell itself. Mercedes had no hope of shifting fast enough to keep up, but perhaps she wouldn’t need to. So far she had always diverged her colours, like a candle in a dark room. What if she concentrated her energy instead?

  A single, bright beam no wider than her finger pierced the void as far down as the deep darkness. She chanted the name she had given the monster, willing her light to track that signature’s every move.

  It wasn’t enough. L’Autre had to be near the outer edge now, where her energy could never penetrate. M’sieur gained on his prey, but too soon l’Aut
re would shed her search light and both hunter and prey would vanish into the Edge once more.

  Her light was now but a pinprick in the vast depths so many plains below her. She held on to l’Autre’s signature with a silken thread, but she was at the end of her tether. One wild swerve and she would lose sight of the creature.

  At every change of direction, Mercedes concentrated harder. She recanted its name with religious dedication. Every time, a pulse of the monster’s energy flared back at her. Its movements became increasingly frantic, but after its initial dive, it now only moved sideways. Not deeper and out of reach, but sideways, where her tiny light led M’sieur ever closer.

  At last they had a chance.

  ***

  Shape lost meaning as he shifted headlong through the darkness. The faint beam of the woman’s energy was nigh on invisible at these depths, but it pushed forward with the same persistence that had proved capable of piercing his shield. With her every call, the other’s soul marker responded with a pulse. The pressure of the void dimmed the flare, but her light enhanced it, compensating. An unmistakeable trail.

  The chase neared the outer edge where the creature abruptly changed direction. Rather than diving deeper, out of the woman’s range and thus out of his sight, the other scurried along like a fish scouring the riverbed for food.

  Alarming. Why this action, when it already dragged along the subdued signature of a brighter soul?

  The other slowed, writhing as if cornered. He held back. What walls enclosed the creature, he couldn’t tell. It might turn any which way from here; anything to avoid capture. How predictable the uncertainty. And how vexing.

  As he expected, the other bolted the very next instant. Contrary to his expectations, it dashed upwards. He grinned.

  At last, the fatal mistake he had been waiting for. Sooner or later all criminals made one.

  The creature ascended in ragged circles. He rose at the same pace but beneath it, always keeping himself between the other and the insidious safety of the outer edge. High above them, the woman’s energy split into multiple beams, her red hues streaming down like vapour. The creature didn’t dare to go further. It twisted and bucked to dodge the swirling tendrils that surrounded him. It failed. The light, however faint, confined the miscreant’s movements while his own black shield rose from below like giant jowls that shut around the creature.