by Amy Barrett
Monsters and Invisible Men
Amy Barrett
Cover art by Kerry Barrett
Copyright © 2020
See bonus content about the novel and more at https://amybarrettauthor.com/
About the author
Amy Barrett is a young Ireland based writer. She writes new adult fiction and poetry while caving to the every demand of her cat Gizzy. She has won the Windows National Poetry prize in 2015 and was a featured reader at the Over the Edge poetry event in Galway city. She has a first-class honours Bachelor of Arts Degree in English, Classics and Creative Writing from the National University of Ireland Galway. During her time at university she was also an ordinary committee member, public relations officer and eventually auditor of the NUIG Writers Society.
She also has a blog where she offers advice to fellow writers and reviews Netflix Ireland shows.
To Toby, a great beta reader and an even better friend.
Wouldn’t it be good to be in your shoes?
Even if it was for just one day,
Wouldn’t it be good if we could wish ourselves away?
Nik Kershaw, 1983, Wouldn’t it be good.
Prologue
The year was 1936 and it was Christmas eve. An overweight man sat at his desk in the dim light and corrected his classes` history tests from the week, his pen scratching on the papers the boys had written out. To chase away the boredom and exhaustion he was eating one of his favourite icing donuts. In the recesses of the room a version of “White Christmas” rung out. He bobbed his head along to the jolly tune. The atmosphere was relaxed, and the sofa and chairs slumped against the walls. The firelight was reduced to a glow. Every few minutes the tree lights broke out like a flash mob, flickering madly. Yet, for the most part the tree was tame, and the room tinted grey by the night. A smell gave away the fact that mould was hiding somewhere in the room, but the man didn’t seem to care.
The man’s name was Jack Meany. At the age of only forty-five time had only just started to invade his hair. His wife and daughter were upstairs. He shoved another bite into his mouth and gasped it down.
In the corner of the room a young man appeared. He was tall and slim built. His eyes were green like that of a cat and his pink mouth fell innocently open an inch. The brown hair on his head was dishevelled and he was dressed in an all-black suit. A thin tie hung from his neck. He gazed around at the flashing tree and Mr. Meany who moaned contently while taking another bite. The whole room was a cascade of sounds and colours all shown to the stranger for the first time.
Mr. Meany slipped from his desk chair and thudded on the floor.
It was a sound like thunder, and he shook the boards where he landed. The stranger in the room inhaled sharply and ran towards the fallen man. He had never seen someone collapse before and when he reached Mr Meany he found that he didn’t know how to help.
“Help.” The strangers voice creaked and failed at the end; the words smothered by Mr Meany’s panting. The stranger’s magnificent eyes welled up and the colour blurred behind the drops. He swallowed a lump of spittle and tried again.
“Help. Help. Someone,” the stranger howled over the mocking tune of the Christmas carol.
It was no use. The young man held back most of his tears and rubbed away those that escaped.
Then Mr Meany turned his head and looked for the first time at the stranger’s face. His eyes widened. “Who... are... you? Get away from me.” Mr Meany tried to move away but his body started to spasam and he was trapped beside the stranger.
“It’s okay. I’m going to find someone.” On instinct, the stranger reached out and touched Mr Meany’s arm. He felt a force, like a bolt of lightning, and it charged every nerve. He felt alive to his fingertips. His skin was on fire and every breath was steam in his lungs. It hurt but also warmed his chest like a cup of tea and his body like a hug.
When it faded, he felt colder than before. He shivered and gathered himself, looking down at Mr Meany again.
“Hey, did you feel that? It was like…” He didn’t finish the sentence as there was no one left to ask. Mr Meany lay still. His mouth open like he was told a terrible secret.
The stranger reversed and kicked the limp form away from him with the butt of his dress shoe. The shoe only made contact briefly then passed through the body which jerked and then stopped like a discarded toy. The stranger choked on his tears as they flowed freely down his face. He was shaking enough to make it hard to breathe.
“Daddy!” The sweet voice spilt from upstairs. A heartbeat of steps followed it and then a tiny person appeared in the room. She was blonde and had two huge blue orbs in the middle of her face.
The stranger took a breath and dragged himself to his feet. “I’m sorry, I tried but he just fell and…”
“Daddy? Are you sleeping?” She didn’t look at the stranger but stared at her father like he was the centre of the universe. She didn’t respond when the stranger got closer, even when he stood in her line of sight she didn’t see him.
He reached out to her and tried to touch her shoulder. His hand ghosted through her. He tried again and again and again. The result was always the same. He stood staring at her and she looked at Jack Meany.
“Daddy?” This time her tone was cautious, and she didn’t advance on Jack anymore. The stranger saw the tears on the girl’s face, promting more on his own.
“Don’t worry about her.” The stranger spun towards the newly arrived voice and saw a woman. Beautiful and slim. Her dark hair was pulled into a bun. “They all get over it, eventually.”
The stranger looked from her to the girl. “She can’t see us?”
“Sharp one aren’t you.” She examined her nails and then tipped her head towards the other room. “Come on. We need to talk, and I don’t like to listen to the next part.”
“Mammy!” The little girl raced up the stairs.
“Tell me, what happened to that man?” He pointed to Mr Meany with a trembling finger.
“We can talk about it once we escape the screaming child.” As if in answer to her statement the child was heard wailing for her mother upstairs.
“Just tell me now.”
She opened her mouth to protest and he shouted over her. “Tell me now!” Balls of water rolled around his cheeks and his face glistened in the light of the lamp.
She sighed. “He is dead. He had a heart attack.”
“What? Then why did I feel… when I touched him I…” He touched his own chest and dropped his eyes.
She seemed to light up from the inside, her eyes sparkling and a smile breaking onto her face. “It’s exhilarating, isn’t it?”
Briefly the stranger was distracted by this statement from the scene unfolding beside him. Mrs Meany had come down the stairs sprinting. She was now shakily trying to reach for the phone while tossing her head side to side and screwing her eyes shut. She yelled at her daughter to stay back, that everything was going to be fine. The stranger heard the whole exchange but as if from far away. He was focused on the woman who spoke to him, analysing her every movement and word for some kind of answer.
“Just tell me why.” He advanced on her.
She lifted her hand and laid it gently on him before pushing him back a step. The stranger felt nothing where she touched him. It was cold and without pressure, as if there was no contact at all.
She smiled without humour. “You’re a reaper. And you took his soul.”
Chapter 1
“Oh, you like skiing, do you?”
The man in front of the reaper had just claimed this and now he prepared to push himself off and down the mountain. The wind was a dragon on ram
page, and it shook the skis as it passed. The reaper, who had named himself Ivan, walked to the edge and leaned over to look. “Ironic, all things considered.”
The man was unaware, but this trip would be his last. He yanked his wool hat firmly onto his head and then he was away. Ivan watched with faked interest as the form vanished into the hazy air. He strolled down the snowy mountain, with his hands in his trouser pockets. The snow wasn’t dented by his steps and they made no noise on the powdery surface. When the man hit his end, Ivan didn’t hear the crash, but rather felt it in his gut.
He appeared beside the broken frame of the man and tilted his head. “Looks a bit odd with your neck at that angle mate.” The man spat up lumps of blood and his eyes widened at the sight of Ivan.
Ivan knelt beside him, pulling his trouser legs up a bit at the knee. “Who am I? Why am I here? What’s happening?” He smiled down at the dying man. “Did I miss anything?”
The victim couldn’t reply, gasping through his failing throat. Sighing, Ivan touched the man’s shoulder and felt his soul rush through him. The sensation was still electric, but it had dulled over time. A gust rumbled by. Ivan was sure that someone would arrive very soon and see the body, try to help even and he wanted to watch. But he found himself drawn to another place where he was sure someone was about to croak. After all, why else would death come a calling.
***
Far in the depths of hell someone was dying. The demons didn’t make a show of it. The vast darkness that was hell swallowed each final breath like crumbs off a larger loaf. Stone walls were littered around the endlessness where human shaped shells hung like clothes on the line. The flames slithering up the stone burnt away who they used to be. A young man, Nick, dangled dead from a wall made for holding corpses.
He woke from death with a gasp. Swinging on the chains he tried to focus on anything but the pain in his body. His breaths were short and hot. The chains were gnawing into his bone and flesh as if starved for centuries. Then she came back. The demon who had been killing him over and over.
“Good luck my friend.” He thought he heard a voice whisper to his right, but he couldn’t be sure. His ears were ringing. He struggled to watch the blurry dark shape of the woman who was advancing on him. When she got there, she caressed his bare chest and purred.
“Mine for all eternity. So pretty. So soft.” She lifted a knife from a stone table Nick hadn’t noticed before and cradled it like a baby. Her black hair washed down her back in a plait. Her luminous eyes focused on him. He too had black hair, that sat in long locks on the top of his head. But this hair and even the lengthy lashes that came with it were shining crimson, coated in blood in the fire light.
Nick gained a mental foothold and managed to focus on her. His shoulders felt like they might break from their sockets because he had been hanging from the wall for so long. He wanted to curse in pain but knowing that that would only bring her joy, he supressed it. Not before she noticed him clenching his mouth shut.
She ran the tip of the knife along his stubble. “Don’t disappoint Nickolas, I want to hear every sexy whimper out of you.” She drove the knife into the joint of his jaw. A small sound escaped but he was unable to move his mouth to let out more of a scream. The hot metal of the knife ground against his bones and he smelt the stench of his own flesh melting off the wound. She lifted a flame in her hand and used it to burn the skin some more. He growled and whined like an animal and thrashed away. He was ashamed that he had allowed her to break him at all. He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of seeing him scream today. Soon she had used the hell fire to heal the damage and he was left with a shadow stain on his stubble.
“Give me a howl like your werewolves do or who knows what I might do.” She tilted her head and kissed the corner of his mouth. The touch was cool and inviting and part of Nick was grateful for anything gentle between the pain. But he wouldn’t let himself be taken in by it. Pulling away he glared at her.
“I will pluck out those pretty brown eyes,” she whispered. “You’re all tied up. That puts me in control.” She stepped back and levelled her gaze. She made sure he was looking at her when she said. “Don’t make me hurt you anymore than this.” The knife struck again, this time in his stomach. He wailed like a fox in a trap and gasped past the pain. It was sharp were the blade had entered and his blood boiled around it. Abyzou’s gaze flickered away from him momentarily. His howls bounced off the walls and back into his own ears. A tight fist of shame clenched in his chest. She had beaten him again and all of hell had heard.
“Shh. Baby it’s not so bad,” she cooed while rubbing the side of his face with the back of her hand and yanking the knife out. Nick used his failing energy to pull his face away from her touch. She narrowed her eyes and bared her teeth. “I would take all the comfort you can get. You have a life sentence down here.”
Dread swirled around inside him, making him feel sick. Nick met her eyes with as much hostility as he could muster.
***
“Life is a bit too serious you know.” Ivan strolled around the shop with his hands in his pockets. It was a small establishment with one door at the front to go in and one at the back for staff. Three aisles ran the short length of the building and one pale bald man stood behind the counter smiling at the only customer. The woman before him was preparing to rob the place. Ivan had already seen her shuffle in and repeat in a whisper to herself how to use the gun. He knew someone was going to die when he was here and by the looks of the sweat clumped in her eyebrows it would be her. Ivan sighed and stopped just shy of her left shoulder.
“You don’t need the money.” He came so close to her that his breath should have tickled her ear. “He’s bluffing when he says he’s gonna kill you if you don’t pay.”
She slipped her hand into the inside pocket of her coat. Nesting there was a slick black gun.
“You don’t even know how to use that bloody thing,” Ivan groaned. Spinning away from her he waved a hand. “Fine ignore me and do it anyway but make it quick.”
A song which Ivan didn’t recognise was playing. The tune was bouncy and optimistic. Smiling, he danced and slid about the place. The woman slowly lifted the gun out of her pocket and shakily leveled it at the shop keeper.
“I just want the money.”
Ivan wasn’t watching the woman as she spoke. No fun watching a show when you know what’s going to happen. The rest of the scene played out as you might expect. Demands for money, scared pleas, all the classics. Until the growl. Ivan danced on as the huge guard dog stalked out of the door at the back of the shop and into view. Beads of drool fell like rain on the floor as the animal abandoned swallowing to threaten the woman. She stared at it, as if sketching it into her mind to reference later. She swallowed hard. Its legs compressed and then shot up again with massive power. As Ivan had predicted, the woman didn’t know how to use the gun. She fumbled once. That was enough. Her body crashed against the floor with the massive animal on top.
As she was being mauled Zerachiel appeared in the room. He was a firmly built man with blonde hair and grey-blue eyes. His wings were each the height of his body and double the width of his chest. They were pure white and folded towards his back. He grimaced at the sight and spun towards Ivan. “Don’t you have a job to be doing?”
Ivan moonwalked to his side. “Good times come rarely. You gotta embrace it.”
The angel looked at the woman, who was a chew toy for the dog and screeching for help. “Good times? Just reap her and put her out of her misery.”
“Very bossy today, aren’t you?” He strolled over to the woman and she locked eyes with him.
“Are you an angel?” she gasped between screams.
Ivan laughed. “No, but that guy is.” He thrust his thumb at Zerachiel. The woman reached for the angel. He looked at her and his eyes creased at the sides and his shoulders bunched towards his ears when she howled in pain. She opened her mouth to speak but Ivan reaped her before a word got out. Now the dog was yank
ing a limp corpse up and down the floor.
“I hate when they pray.” Ivan turned back to the angel expecting him to defend the faith. The look on his face said there was more than the faith on his mind.
Ivan folded his arms and leaned on the shelves. “Alright mate, tell me what it is.”
Zerachiel shook his head.
“No, no, come on the only reason I’m allowd to take a break is cause you say so. So, if I am getting a break it means you wanna talk.”
The angel released his breath and forced his stare to the ground. “I met someone.”
“Oh great. See why do you look so down? You’re not the only bent angel.”
Zerachiel glared at him. “I told you that under the belief you wouldn’t hold it over me.”
“No, you told me that because there is no one I can tell. Besides I’m not holding it over you.” Ivan shrugged. “What would you rather I said? Gay?”
The angel made no response and Ivan pressed for more details before he scared him off. After all, Zerachiel was the only person he ever got to speak to. He had to make the most of it and keep him in the mood to chat. “So, who is it? Please say Michael that would freak the hell out of the bible bashers.”
“Not Michael. A human.”
For a moment, the reaper froze. He knew that this wasn’t allowed. He also knew that he had been eyeing some humans of his own. Depending on what Zerachiel said next this was either really good or really bad.
“So…” Ivan drew out the word and turned his back on Zerachiel. “What are you gonna do about it?”
Zerachiel was silent. Ivan feared he would leave. Then he sighed again and folded his wings around himself like a shield. “I don’t know.”
“What, does he not like blondes?”
“No, I don’t know.”
“Ugly?”
“No.”