The Soul Catcher

by Rowanne Carberry

  Pulling Ripper’s shirt over my head, I place it on the bed and head over to my underwear drawer instead. I’ll start with underwear and work my way up. I start packing a bag to take with me too.

  I finally find one of the few matching sets I own. Pure black silk, with a hint of lace across the top. I slip into them, revelling in the feeling of the silk on my body and then know just what I want to wear. Rummaging around in the back of the cupboard I finally find the bag I’m looking for.

  An old Halloween costume that will be just perfect, if it still fits. Everything crossed that it does, I start pulling it on.

  Standing in front of the mirror I apply the bare minimum of makeup, and then lean back to admire the view.

  “Daaaaaaamn. Who are you and what have you done with Jemma?” I turn to find Ripper standing the doorway of my bedroom with his mouth hanging open.

  Laughing at him I go to walk past, but he puts his hand on the door frame, getting in my way in my way.

  “I didn’t know you had it in you.” He bends his head down and whispers against my neck.

  Shrugging my shoulders at his words brings my skin closer to his mouth; his breath tantalises my skin. “I dressed as Buffy one year for a Halloween party. I thought it was appropriate.” He laughs at me, still barring my way from the room, lips now touching my neck. He gently bites down and my skin breaks out in goosebumps.

  Every bit of desire I felt last night comes flooding through me. I press myself into him and he brings his face up to kiss me. I wrap my hands in his shirt and start walking backwards until my legs hit the edge of the bed. Sinking down, I bring him with me until we’re lying width ways across the it, Ripper holding himself above me, both of us breathing hard.

  He presses himself down so there’s only a thin line between us, one big breath from either us and we’ll be touching. It’s excruciating.

  I reach out an arm and pull him to me, closing that gap. There’s urgency between the two of us. The kisses turn ferocious as our hands are a blur against each other’s skin. Ripper runs his hands through my hair, pulling my head back. I stare into his eyes and bite my lip as I think about what’s going to happen next.

  That, of course, is when the mobile phone starts ringing, shrill, loud and annoying, breaking the spell.

  “Shit.” Ripper pulls himself off me and grabs his phone out his trouser pocket. He looks at the screen and groans and then swipes his hand across the screen to answer it as he sits next to me on the bed,

  “Yes? We’re on our way… No, we don’t need a car…” He hangs up the phone, turning to look at me.

  “We need to go?” I pre-empt him.

  “Yup.”

  He stands up first and then pulls me up. I follow him out of my flat, grabbing my spare bag as we go. Staring longingly at my flat before I close the door, I can’t help but wonder how long it will be before I’m back.

  * * *

  We’re back in the underground station now. It’s awful down here; I just want to breathe normal air, to feel the sun on my face, the wind in my hair. Instead, I’m stuck in some dank, dark, smelly place with a bunch of idiots running around like headless chickens.

  Do you know, there’s not even a fire escape sign anywhere down here, and considering someone keeps lighting fires, I feel I should know exactly where I can run if it gets out of hand. Do I just head in the direction I think the stairs are, and hope no one stands in the way shouting, “You shall not pass!”

  Seeing a flare of fire, my eyes are drawn yet again to the man I’d seen beaten half to death a few days ago. He looks rough still. His bruises seem to match mine. The urge to go over and speak to him is bubbling up inside of me, but I’m not sure if it’s a good idea or not. His eyes are angry. I can see the spark of fire in them, just waiting to spill over and burn the next person to annoy him, and I don’t really want to get burned.

  Instead, I sit down on one of the spare chairs and allow myself to daydream. Knowing any second that things could become volatile again, I am taking any chance I can to rest and recuperate.

  My mind starts to drift — I’m a call centre operative during the day, undercover supernatural police officer by night. Most of the people in this room are managing to do that, somehow. The thing is though, they don’t seem overly affected by it whereas every time I close my eyes, I see blood running down walls and hear the screams and cries of those I’ve had to watch die.

  Especially the recent ones.

  “The tracking beacon has stopped working.” The words jolt me from my thinking.

  Maria’s pacing around the room. She says something else but I miss it.

  “What tracking beacon?” I ask, interrupting her mid-sentence.

  Groaning in what I can only assume is frustration she answers me quickly.

  “The tracking beacon you put on him. It let us follow his movements. We knew where he was. We were following him... but now it’s stopped.”

  My brow creases as I try to figure out what she’s talking about, I don’t remember any tracking be…

  “Oh, the pebble thing?” No one answers me. “That’s pretty cool.”

  There’s a snort of laughter and I see it’s coming from the guy playing with fire. I decide to ignore him until he asks the questions I probably should have asked.

  “Why’d it stop workin’?” His accent is strange, I can’t quite place, but it’s lazy, words drawn out and letters missing.

  Simon answers him. “My theory is that he’s gone back to one of the demon worlds. Whilst he’s there, it won’t be able to trace him but as soon as he comes back to our dimension, it should kick back in again.”

  “Why can’t it trace him there?” I ask.

  Going into what seems scholar mode, a happy smile lifts Simon’s face as he begins a long, boring explanation into why it doesn’t work. I should not have asked.

  “So in short, demon worlds have their own kind of magic and there’s a protective barrier that stops anything non-demon made or with non-demon blood, from travelling with them.” In short, I think to myself, he could have just started with that!

  “You should know,” comes the strange accent from across the room.

  He’s staring at Simon and that same dark shadow I noticed last time flashes through Simon’s eyes again. Tension vibrating through his body, Simon takes a step towards the man in corner, who stands up straighter, his hands spark with white fire. That stops Simon in his tracks, a smile of satisfaction plays on the stranger’s face.

  “Thought so” he whispers to himself. He goes back to throwing fire from one hand to the other. Simon walks over to Mitchell and Ripper. They go into a deep conversation, whilst Maria dials a number on phone and begins talking in whispers as she flicks through a book.

  Jumping up from the chair, I start pacing the room. I need to do something. I’d actually quite like to go back to work. Which reminds me: I’m going to have to call them and let them know I still can’t go back in. As much as I would love to use that as an excuse, I don’t think I’ve got a relevant one to explain all the bruises littering my skin, and I highly doubt they’re going to let me leave to go back to work anyway.

  Screw it, I’m going to call them now, I think to myself. Heading to the door, I open it and step out without anyone calling me back. Taking my phone out of my pocket, I go to make the call, but there’s no signal.

  My brow creases in confusion. I was sure that Maria had just been on her mobile. Looking back through the glass panel in the door, I clearly see Maria holding up a mobile phone to her ear and talking into it.

  Pacing over to the opposite wall, I rest my forehead against it and then scream in frustration.

  “Screaming ain’t gonna help, ya know.”

  Spinning round, I see it’s the man that keeps playing with fire. No one else seems to have followed us out of the room; no one else seems to be watching us through the glass. That instantly makes me suspicious of him.

  “Why’ve they let you come out here?” I ask hi
m — I can hear the suspicion in my voice.

  “They let you didn’t they?” he retorts. That’s a good point.

  “I need to phone work, but my mobile hasn’t got a signal.” I pause for a moment, “Can I by any chance borrow yours?”

  He throws back his head and laughs, and laughs, and carries on laughing.

  “I really fail to see what’s so funny.” Crossing my arms and leaning back against the wall, I try to keep my face neutral.

  Finally, he stops laughing, but I can tell it’s a struggle for him. “Are you really that stupid?” He asks me.

  I don’t even bother replying.

  “You’re covered in the same marks I am, chick. I know you saw me in that room. You really think they’re gone let us out here without knowin’ we can’t do nothing?”

  Again I don’t bother to reply to him. I watch as he glides over to me, fire playing on his fingertips. I press myself further into the wall, contemplating running, but there’s not enough room. He’s close enough to touch now and I try to calm my breathing — one big breath, and our chests would be touching. The image of the earlier situation flashes through mind and this time I do the opposite, I hold my breath.

  Bending down so his lips brush my ear, he whispers, “They’ve put a block on your phone. And a tracker. Be careful what you do, chick.”

  Moving his head away from me, he steps back. I finally release the breath, my body shuddering.

  “How do you know?” I ask, keeping my voice in a careful whisper.

  “I know what to look for.”

  Clenching my fists at my sides, brows furrowing, I feel an urge to scream again or to lash out at someone. Looking through the glass window, I see Mitchell standing with Simon, laughing. I begin to storm towards the door when arms shoot out and wrap around my waist, picking me up so my legs dangle.

  “Put me down,” I scream, voice shrill.

  He quickly moves me out of the way of the window and puts me down, just as my foot swings backwards and hits him in the shin.

  “Aww shit. Calm down, lady.” He hops backwards and then gingerly places his foot back down, wincing at his touches the floor. “You’ve got a sharp kick on you.”

  Not speaking to him is becoming my favourite past time. I turn to go back to the door when he lunges at me and grabs my hand.

  “What you doin’? You think letting ‘em know you know what’s happening is gonna help you? Hell no, chick. It’ll just have you on the back foot even more. Don’t use your phone for nothin’ important.” He looks so earnest.

  I do believe him: why the hell would he lie? Especially after what they did to him.

  Clearing my throat, I say, “Okay.”

  I’m about to ask him how he ended up here when the door opens behind us and Ripper walks out. I’m about to throw him a smile and go over when I see the look on his face. My whole body goes cold.

  “Jemma, Aidan: we need you back in here.” He pauses and takes a deep breath. “There’s been another murder.”

  My first thought should be sympathy for the person that’s died, for the family that’s left behind and everything they must have gone through. But it’s not.

  The first thought that goes through my mind is the fact that this is going to be another new torture for me.

  * * *

  I’m sitting in the car with Ripper and Aidan.

  “So then why are we all here?” I ask them. There’s a masculine chuckle from the back of the car.

  “Well now, I thought that was obvious: we’re on our way to a murder scene.”

  I turn around and glare at Aidan. He’s like an annoying little brother.

  “Yes but why? Why us? We’ve got no training. We’re not police, we’re not advisors. I’m a damn call centre operative, and you—” I look Aidan up and down trying to make a guess at what he does “—Well, I don’t have a clue about you. You’re just some pretty boy that plays with fire.”

  “You think he’s pretty?” My head spins round to face Ripper.

  I splutter and my face burns as I try to explain it myself. Then I notice the sparkle in his eyes and glare at him too.

  “Fine then — a different question. How do you manage to lead double lives? I know there’s someone higher up that helps you all, but how can you put so much time into this? How do you manage to get people like us into the crime scenes?” I pause for a moment, thinking, and then add another question as Ripper goes to say something.

  “Just one more. Why do you work for him? How can you work for him? Look at what he’s done to us.” I gesture between myself and Aidan.

  There’s silence in the car. It seems like no one wants to answer me. Well, Aidan probably can’t answer much. Ripper can though.

  My face burns again as I think about last night and this morning — the intimacy between the two of us. I don’t even know his real name. I look out the window and watch as the road passes by. My stomach starts churning as the white lines begin to blur into one. The little hairs on the back of my neck are standing on end and I know that one, or both of them, are staring at me.

  Fingers reach out and clasp my hand but I jerk away, turning my body more to the window and wrapping my hands around my arms. “I don’t even know your name,” I whisper, the pain I’m feeling making my voice raw and hoarse.

  All that can be heard in the car is the rumbling of the engine and the car as it goes across the tar.

  “Can I say something?”

  The voice startles me but I know it was Aidan that spoke, so I turn to look at him.

  “It’s a free country, apparently,” I tell him.

  Snorting in what I can only imagine is to match the sarcasm in my voice; he goes ahead and speaks anyway.

  “Look, I don’t know much, but I do know a few things. And since he ain’t gonna speak, I’ll give you my view,” Aidan tells me. I take a quick glance over at Ripper and see that his hands have gone white from gripping the steering wheel so hard, a tick appearing on his face. I wonder if he’s conflicted between letting us speak and protecting his boss. The fact that he seems to be getting annoyed makes me smile.

  I spin around in my seat and give Aidan my full attention. “Go on then. What’s your theory?”

  Aidan sits up straighter “Well, that detective is in charge. He likes collecting people. He’d found me before this case even started. Had me locked up in a normal cell and drugged so I couldn’t do nothing for weeks. Trumped up charges.” He takes a break and looks around the car; his face is drawn as he remembers.

  “Got off though didn’t I. CPS wouldn’t take it forward. Leaving the court, I thought they was goin’ to let me go, then they grabbed me.”

  The breaks slam on hard, throwing us both forwards in our seats, the belts catching and locking us in place.

  “What the hell?” I shout at Ripper.

  I notice the tick has got harder. There’s a sheen of sweat on his skin and he looks like he’s about to have a panic attack. Going to touch his hand, he jerks away, tears his seatbelt off, and jumps out of the car.

  Looking back to Aidan, I see a look of pure confusion on his face that I know must mirror my own, we both turn to stare out of the window and finally take note of where we’ve stopped. We’re on the edge of a housing estate; it looks nice. We’ve pulled up just outside a little park, which Ripper is currently walking towards. Leaving us both in the unlocked car.

  “We could go, you know.” His voice makes me jump again. Not looking at him, I consider the thought. We could go: we could get out of the car and run, but where we would go?

  “Where would I go?” I actually ask him, “I don’t know about you, but I don’t really have anyone. I’ve got no money; I don’t even have the keys to my flat.”

  Aidan looks down at the floor of the car, I follow his gaze and notice there’s a piece of chewing gum stuck to the carpet.

  “Maybe that’s why us: we ain’t got nowhere else to turn.”

  Leaving the car, I close the door softly behind me an
d take a deep breath of the fresh air. I force my feet over to where Ripper is. Opening a little metal gate, I walk into the park and over to the swings, sitting down on the one next to him. I gently start to swing my feet back and forth, revelling in the feeling of swinging, something I’ve not done in a long time.

  “We need to go soon. They’ll come looking if we’re not there,” Ripper tells me. He’s not looking at me though; he’s resolutely looking away from me. I decide to not say anything.

  You’d think the silence would be uncomfortable, but it’s not. There’s still a connection between us and makes it easier to be together.

  “I took him — Aidan, I mean — me and a few others.” He’s still not looking at me; I’d expected this from his reaction. “There are reasons; I promise you, reasons to everything, but right now isn’t the time. If we make it through this, I’ll tell you what I can.”

  Still swinging my feet, I think about it. I know now isn’t the best time to discuss everything, but there are some things I just can’t ignore.

  “Answer me one question and then we’ll go.” I silently implore him to look at me, but he’s still looking anywhere but at me. “Why do you work for him, Ripper?”

  No reply.

  Dragging my feet on the ground to stop the swing, I jump off and stand in front of him. I grab is face between my hands and pull it up to look at me.

  “Why?” I ask again, staring straight into his eyes, so I’m able to see them as they fill up with tears.

  “Because he knows about my sister.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  The house we’re going to isn’t far from the park we’d stopped at. We’ve gotten here just as Maria was walking out of the house. Her face instantly relaxed when she saw us, telling us she’d just been sent to come and look for us.

  I’m just pulling the little blue boots over my shoes when the door opens and Mitchell comes out.

  “Hurry the fuck up, I don’t have all day,” he snarls in my direction.