The Corruption Within

by Ty Griffin

  All the blood drained from Marie’s face. “About what happened to me?” she asked. And then she must have recognized something in Kayla. “Oh,” she said. “You’re one of the other ones, aren’t you?”

  Kayla nodded. “I know it is terrible of me to track you down, but I have to do something. I have to try to help catch this guy.”

  Marie’s face softened as she looked at Kayla. She gave her a look of compassion as Kayla hunched her shoulders as if to make her already tiny frame even smaller. And then Marie’s sympathetic look turned into one of pride when Kayla lifted her head and stuck her chin out. “I’m going to stop him,” my fierce little friend said.

  Marie gave a sad smile and said, “Why don’t you come in, dear. I’ll make us some tea and answer your questions the best I can.” Then she looked at me suspiciously. Her eyes narrowed, and her voice turned cool and a shade hard. “I’m not so sure about you, though. I would feel more comfortable if you stayed outside.”

  I looked at Kayla quickly. “No, I’m not going to leave you alone with her,” I said.

  Kayla put a hand on my arm. “It’s okay. I wouldn’t want a strange guy coming in my house right now, either. I’m just going to talk to her for a few minutes. I’ll be fine.”

  “But—” I started.

  “Wes,” Kayla interrupted. “Please?”

  I swallowed a good bit of pride. “Okay, fine. I am going to wait right here, though.”

  Kayla looked to Marie for consent, and Marie nodded. “I’ll leave the door unlocked so your friend feels a little more comfortable.”

  Kayla and I both spoke our thanks as Kayla stepped inside.

  I stared at the door in frustration for a minute before resting my back against the wall and sliding down to sit on the floor. I listened intently through the door, but other than the normal ambient noises of life and a gentle murmur of conversation, nothing interesting seemed to be happening. Once I was sure Kayla was in no immediate danger, I started to get bored pretty quickly.

  “She sure didn’t seem to like me, did she?” I said to Veikr in boredom.

  “I think maybe I am the one she does not like,” the demon responded.

  “You? You mean she could see you?”

  “I do not think so,” he said carefully. “I think if she had seen me she would have responded more … aggressively. But she may have had a sense about me.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “Well, some humans are more sensitive to spiritual beings than others. It is possible that she is slightly more sensitive than normal, and her soul is subconsciously warning her of danger. I am dangerous, after all, Vessel,” he said haughtily.

  “But if she’s more sensitive, then how come she doesn’t see you like I did?” I asked.

  “Don’t be stupid, Vessel. It is not a black-and-white issue. Like most things in life, this is an area of gray. A sliding scale, if you will.”

  “Explain it to me, then,” I said, frustrated at his condescension.

  “Fine.” He sounded immensely impatient with the inconvenience. “Our interactions with humans, with all things living, to be exact, is complicated and complex. There are a multitude of variables that determine your ability to see, hear, or feel any of us. Just as there are many variables that determine our ability to influence, control, or communicate with you.”

  “What kind of variables?”

  “Well, your particular sensitivity, for one. Each living creature has their own capacity to perceive creatures of the spiritual. And even that innate ability can shift over time. You can be more sensitive in your youth and less so in old age, or vice versa. Your life experiences or current emotional state can affect your sensitivity.

  “Sometimes a living creature is more perceptive to the spiritual for a short time after an acute, dramatic experience. Which, incidentally, is what I suspect happened with you. Can you think of anything that might have triggered additional sensitivity for you?”

  I thought back over the last several days and all of the stressful, mind-boggling things that had happened. Everything seemed to have begun that first night at Gabe’s, when I stumbled on that shadowy thing in the alley behind Gabe’s bar. I briefly described the experience for Veikr.

  “Yes, that could do it,” he said.

  “But how was I able to see him in the first place, then?” I asked.

  “I don’t know, Vessel. I wasn’t there. But that restaurant of your friend’s certainly carries an aura of power. That could make you more sensitive. Or maybe the spirit in the alley was particularly strong and chose to reveal himself.”

  “So the strength of the spirit affects who can see it?” I asked.

  “Obviously,” he said. “How powerful we are will determine our ability to affect things on the physical plane. From allowing a human to see us to moving a physical object, and everything else in between. It would take a more powerful spirit to make himself known to a less sensitive physical creature, while a more sensitive physical creature could perceive, to some degree, weaker spirits as well. Like I said, it’s complex. Which, by the way, is why you have only see a few spirits so far. You are ignorant of the many weaker spirits around you and oblivious to the stronger ones that want to remain hidden.”

  “Wait!” I said in alarm. “There are more demons around me?”

  “Yes,” he said, as if it were completely obvious. “Pretty much constantly.”

  “And you’re just telling me this now!” I jumped to my feet, preparing myself to fight or flee—or both.

  “Relax, Vessel. The vast majority of spirits want nothing to do with humans. Of the ones that do, most are just mischievous nuisances. Of the dangerous spirits, most will completely ignore you unless you bring attention to yourself. I myself would never have paid you any attention had you not made it obvious that you could see me. If I were to point out every time you were near a dangerous spirit, you would bring attention to yourself, or worse, bring attention to me, thus making us a target.”

  “I guess that makes sense, but why would bringing attention to you make us a target?” I asked as I sat back down.

  “Because, Vessel, my kind are territorial, like the predators of your wild places. We fight each other for power and influence. Any of my kind that work together have been coerced and cowed by a larger, more powerful spirit, and even those are looking for ways to betray and dethrone each other.”

  “That sounds like a terrible existence,” I said.

  “From my experience humans are not that different, Vessel.”

  I thought about his statement for a moment. “I mean, yeah, there are humans like that. Maybe some of that is in all of us, to be honest. But that is not all we are.”

  “If you say so, Vessel,” he said.

  I sat in silence for a minute, listening again for the soft murmur of conversation behind the door of Marie’s apartment. Assured that nothing violent was happening, I went back to my conversation.

  “Veikr, you said a few minutes ago that Gabe’s bar had an aura of power. What do you mean by that?”

  I felt Veikr twitch inside me with antsy discomfort. “I cannot tell you exactly what is inside Gabe, but whatever spirit is there, it is very powerful and extremely dangerous. The presence of a spirit like that will leave a mark on a place if it inhabits it for some time. This place of your friend’s has been marked. I, and all my kind, can feel the caustic hum of power whenever we are close,” he said.

  “Huh. Gabe said it had a reputation. I thought he meant with the people in the neighborhood. Maybe he meant this aura you’re talking about.”

  “Yes,” Veikr said, indicating the answer should have been obvious already.

  The conversation died out then, and I was left alone with my thoughts.

  Kayla stepped back into the hallway a few moments later, wiping her cheek with the back of one hand. “Thank you, Marie,” she said with a half smile.

  Marie returned a similar smile. “Be careful, Kayla. And good luck, to both of
you.” With the last bit, she gave me a small nod before closing the door.

  Kayla and I started toward the elevator. “How are you?” I asked.

  With that same sad smile, she said, “I’m fine. Just a little emotional, you know?”

  I pressed the button for the elevator. “Of course you are. Who wouldn’t be?”

  “Yeah,” she said absently. We waited for the elevator in silence, lost in our own thoughts. When the elevator dinged and its doors opened, Kayla’s head jerked up as if the sound had broken her trance. “Oh, I’ve got stuff to tell you!”

  Chapter 17

  ◆◆◆

  “She said it was Gabe?” I asked as we got off the elevator. My question came out heated and louder than I intended. A young mother and two small children were standing to the side, waiting to board the elevator. The mother quickly grabbed the children and pulled them close to her, protecting them from the crazy, long-haired teenager yelling beside them.

  Kayla shushed me harshly and gave the woman an apologetic shrug. “Calm down, Wesley,” she whispered.

  I clamped my mouth shut until we got outside to prevent myself from shouting anymore. Once we had stepped outside and were moving toward the bus stop, I turned to Kayla. “How did she know it was Gabe?” I demanded.

  Kayla held both hands palms out, lowering them in a pacifying gesture. “She didn’t say for sure that it was Gabe. She was too scared to open her eyes during … during it. So she didn’t see who it was.”

  “Then how did she know it was Gabe?” I asked.

  “She didn’t say it was Gabe, Wesley. She doesn’t know who it was. But I showed her a picture I snuck of him on my phone, and she recognized him. She said she had seen him around several times since her assault. She said she even saw him taking a picture of her once. She gave a description of him to the police, but they didn’t seem all that interested in hearing about it. They wouldn’t even sit her down with a sketch artist.”

  I muttered a handful of choice words under my breath. “I told Tilley that Gabe was involved, and she didn’t seem especially interested either. It just doesn’t seem possible that she could hear a description of Gabe, then hear me mention him specifically, and still not be willing to consider the possibility that he is involved.”

  “That’s not all. It’s nothing that could be used in court, but I asked her if she saw any strange lights the night of her attack. I expected her to look at me like I was crazy, like I was trying to blame everything on aliens or something, but she didn’t! She immediately said yes. She said she hadn’t mentioned it to the cops because she was scared they would think she was crazy or making up the whole thing, but just before she was jumped, she saw a flash of light. And you’ll never guess what color.”

  “Blue?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

  “Blue,” she confirmed.

  “Son of a bitch.”

  The obnoxious squeal of brakes warned us that the bus was pulling up. Kayla climbed in first and scanned her monthly card before taking a seat. I had to fumble through my pockets for the couple bucks for a one-way ticket, cursing myself the whole time for not having at least bought a day ticket.

  I sat in the seat next to Kayla and asked, “Did she say anything else?”

  “No, she didn’t. But I felt like she wanted to. Like there was something she was too ashamed to say. I tried to pull it out of her, but she just clammed up.”

  “Son of a bitch,” I seethed again.

  We rode the rest of the bus trip mostly in silence. Kayla became more sluggish, and I could tell the emotions of the day were starting to wear her down. I suggested we call it a night and try to meet with Ida in the morning. We were fortunate enough to have gotten on a bus that stopped a block south of Kayla’s apartment. I walked her to her building in the fading, early evening light.

  “Are you going to be okay?” I asked.

  “Yeah, I’m good. I’m going to take a bath and go to bed.”

  “I can stay if you’d like.” She gave me a questioning smile and I clarified, “On the couch. I could stay the night on the couch. If you’d feel safer, I mean.”

  She let out a soft chuckle. “I know what you meant. And thanks, but no. I’ll be fine. A quiet night to process … everything sounds good tonight.”

  “Okay,” I said. “But call me if you need anything? And I’m going to come by first thing in the morning.”

  “Thank you.” We stopped in front of the steps to her building. She looked up at me with great big beautiful eyes. She was so tiny, so adorable, so innocent, and also so wicked, so brave, so stubborn. Half of me wanted to stand before her to protect her from whatever might come in life. The other half wanted to walk behind her to see where she might lead.

  “Good night, Kayla,” I said.

  She reached out and grabbed my hand, squeezing it tight. “Good night, Wesley. Thank you, for everything.”

  I squeezed her hand back and tried to not look disappointed when she slid her hand from mine and walked up the stairs. I stared at the door after it closed behind her.

  “Why didn’t you kiss her, Vessel? She looked very kissable,” Veikr said.

  “It wouldn’t be right,” I said grumpily.

  “It wouldn’t be right? You wanted to kiss her. She very likely would have allowed you to. She is feeling weak and emotional and is grateful to you.”

  “Shut up, Veikr,” I growled. “I don’t need you pushing me on this right now!”

  “Vessel,” Veikr said, and I could feel a sense of genuine offense in his words. “I am not trying to push you. I am merely trying to understand you. The woman is attractive. You could have her tonight if you tried, and I know you want her. Why do you do nothing?”

  “It wouldn’t be right,” I mumbled again as I turned to walk down the street.

  “You said that, but that is not really an answer. How can it not be right when you want it so much?”

  “It’s not right, Veikr. Someone attacked her this morning, which is partially my fault since it wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t gotten piss drunk trying to ignore you! She’s sad and scared and emotional.”

  “Yes, she is,” he interjected. “She would likely not be as willing to have you tonight if she were not.”

  “Exactly,” I said. “I can’t take advantage of her like that. It wouldn’t be right. I don’t want to be something she regrets.”

  “Why not?”

  “Why? Because she is my friend. I care about her. I don’t want to hurt her.”

  “Hmm. Interesting.” The demon was quiet for a couple minutes and I walked in silence. “Why did you want to hurt the old lady?”

  “What!” I was incredulous. “What old lady?”

  “The one who would not let you into her apartment. When you saw her first, I could feel your anger. I felt you clench your hands into fists like you were ready to fight, but she was not offering you a threat. Why did you want to hurt her?”

  “Oh god, no! I didn’t want to hurt her. I was …” I faltered for a second, trying to think of how to explain human emotions to the demonic spirit. “I was angry at what had happened to her. When I saw her, I felt a little of the pain she felt and wanted to protect her from it, I guess. I didn’t want to hurt her. I wanted to find the person who hurt her and hurt them.”

  Thinking of the hurt on Marie’s kind face brought that anger back to a hot simmer. I thought again about Kayla, sweet, caring Kayla. I could still picture her face, eyes red and swollen as she absently stroked the scrape down her cheek. I could still feel her shuddering sobs when she had fallen into my arms. As I thought about how Kayla had been hurt, that simmering anger began to boil over.

  “Your friend, Gabe,” Veikr said. “That is who hurt her, no? He hurt them all?”

  “Yes,” I said through clenched teeth.

  Suddenly I realized I was there. I had made it to the bar. I looked down and saw my hand holding the doorknob, my knuckles white from squeezing so tightly.

  “Vess
el,” Veikr warned, “what are you doing? I cannot beat the thing inside Gabe.”

  “I won’t need you for what I am about to do.”

  Chapter 18

  ◆◆◆

  I flung the restaurant door open hard enough that the little bell was sent flying into the bar with a clatter. I barely noticed, and certainly didn’t care that the place was empty, as I stalked to the back looking for Gabe. With every step my anger flared. I felt like the anger itself was going to explode out of me like a tangible substance.

  The restaurant itself felt like the physical embodiment of Gabe’s betrayal. He had been my friend. In a very short time, he had become manifest proof of the good in humanity, a bastion of hope that the world was not filled solely with selfishness. He had shown me kindness, generosity, and compassion. And at the same time, he was sneaking in the dark, abusing women. He used his genial public image to shield himself from suspicion while stalking innocent women like prey. He was a monster.

  He had hurt people. He had hurt Kayla. And I had allowed it to happen, because I refused to believe the truth in front of me. Looking back with the clarity of hindsight, I realized that my anger did not just come from Gabe’s betrayal, but from my own foolish, blind, selfish trust. I hadn’t wanted to believe Gabe could be the culprit, because my job and apartment depended on him not being so. It was an inconvenience for me to acknowledge the obvious truth, and someone I cared about had gotten hurt.

  I was wound tighter than a bowstring and ready to snap by the time I entered the back storage room. Gabe was squatting in front of a far shelf. I stood in the doorway, glaring. I wanted to shout at him, badger him with accusations, force him to admit what he had done and who he was, but I couldn’t think straight enough to form words.

  Gabe stood when he saw me, by his posture ready for a confrontation. “Decide to show back up, did you, kid?” he asked angrily.

  “You son of a bitch!” I snarled. I felt an explosion of adrenaline burst through my body, and my brain shut off. I stomped toward Gabe, fists clenched and teeth bared. I didn’t have a plan or strategy. My brain was not functioning on a level to allow that kind of thinking. My rage was simply going to crash over him like a tsunami, leaving my former friend in a bloody pile, broken and ruined, ready to be collected by cops or coroners—and right then I didn’t care which.