Monsters and Invisible Men (Lost Souls Book 1)

by Amy Barrett

  “Suppose I could have but I figured with you being the one who is always on earth you might have known.”

  Ivan shook his head. “Of course, I knew people had to pay for things, and I knew that money was important but I …” he groaned, “I never thought of it.”

  “The problem of your whole existence.” Zerachiel grinned.

  “Careful feather boy, we are both just two ordinary chaps now mate. No more all-powerful master and his morbid employee.” Ivan smiled.

  Biting his lip Zerachiel burst Ivan’s bubble. “Actually, I am still an angel. People could always see me I just wasn’t allowed time to be around them.”

  Ivan groaned again. “Damn you God for giving them wings and me the touch of death.”

  Zerachiel elbowed him. “Hey, it could be worse.”

  “Every time a human says that, things get worse,” Ivan told him.

  Zerachiel beamed and jumped up. “Things are great. Besides what was it you told me about good times?”

  Ivan rolled his eyes and stood up. “Well I can’t argue with me.” He surveyed the park. “Right so I just need a job then.”

  Zerachiel looked at his hands while grinning. “I’m going back to Boston but good luck.”

  It was only after Zerachiel was gone that it occurred to Ivan that he should have asked where he got that handful of money.

  “Damn halo wearers.” He started towards the city, in search of work.

  There was a lot to think about. First of all, if he was going to get a job, he needed to decide what he was going to do. Ivan thought he would like to do something exciting. Like catch criminals or put out fires. He had seen a lot of humans saving lives doing things like that and it would be a nice change of pace from his last job.

  He was lost in thought and walked smack bang into a young girl. Ivan was prepared to give out until he saw her. Her face was bloody, and her body was made up of strings of skin and internal organs. She held her stomach in the palm of her hand. Ivan felt ill looking at the organ and the threads of blood that were sliding off it. He dropped his gaze and came face to face with the rapidly forming pool of blood at the girl’s feet. Bile rolled up his throat and he forced it back down with effort. It struck him that he had never felt sick at the sight of blood before but as the copper smell entered his nose and left a lingering sensation almost like taste in the back of his throat his stomach heaved again.

  Ivan surveyed the area, but he couldn’t see where she could have come from. His first instinct was to reap her, the sooner she was gone the less time he would have to spend looking at her. He threw out his hand and grasped her arm. When nothing happened, he remembered that he couldn’t reap anymore. Her skin was sticky with inards and Ivan’s throat burned as acid from his stomach raced up it.

  “Sorry mate you’ve come to the wrong reaper, I’m on vacation.” Ivan yanked his hand away and tried to sound casual. He didn’t think he came accorss as calm enough, so he also smiled gently.

  “A reaper…” Her breath escaped her along with her words and she slumped forward. Ivan should have caught her, but he didn’t want to get his only clothes covered in blood. Plus, the closer she got the more the smell of charded flesh was enough to almost knock him out. He skipped back to avoid the falling woman. Her hair was brown clumpy streamers billowing to the ground.

  “Hey,” He bent and talked to her. “Mate are you dead? I mean usually I can tell but now I’m not so sure.” When she didn’t move Ivan concluded that she was gone. “What do I do with you now?” He looked around again. An idea failed to come to him, and he was back to just talking to the body. “You should have stayed in whatever wreck you came from cause there’s no miracle for you here.”

  Suddenly, one of the passers-by from the square noticed her. Ivan wasn’t stupid. He knew that they should have seen her before now. Again, he spun to look for her entrance point. Every corner of the square was infested with people. No way she could have snuck into the middle of the park and right up to him without being seen.

  The woman who came over asked where the girl had come from. Ivan shrugged.

  “Hell, by the looks of her.” He levelled his gaze on the woman and noticed that she wore a bright patterned dress. It was luminous enough that it hurt his eyes to look at it. “At least she can escape that.”

  The woman didn’t notice the comment but a young girl with her did. “Oh my god you can’t say that.”

  “Mate, God won’t even forgive that.” Ivan turned to leave but crazy dress woman grabbed him.

  “What happened to her?”

  “Usually I could tell you exactly but if I had to hazard a guess right now, I would say that her organs aren’t in the right place.”

  Her eyes widened and she gawked at him. Ivan tried once again to leave, but the woman called after him. She claimed that she was calling the police and he better stay where he was. Ivan wasn’t in the business of listening to humans, so he continued casually walking away. Her shrill voice followed him on the air as he left.

  He made it into town and saw an ad in the window of a restaurant. It read:

  “Help needed. Full time waiter. Experience required.”

  “Huh.” Ivan mused. It didn’t sound so bad. He could certainly do it. After all he had been in the service industry all his life. While he thought this, he caught sight of a policeman in the reflection in the window. The policeman was coming up behind him with a baton out. Ivan wasn’t sure why he thought he needed the short stick. He narrowed his eyes at the reflection and watched sweat beads having a rave on the policemans forehead as he tried to wipe them away without lowering his weapon.

  “Sir, just put your hands behind your head and lower yourself to the ground slowly.”

  Ivan didn’t move. He wasn’t used to being threatened but he has seen it happen to people enough times that he was confident that that was what was happening. He didn’t have a weapon of his own so he sure as hell wasn’t giving this guy another advantage by getting on the ground. Besides, he might be a policeman, but he must have gone mad, Ivan hadn’t committed a crime so there was no reason to harass him. The mad man was balding and had an escaping beer belly. Ivan was sure that if he ran the deranged officer could never catch him. Sorry mate, he thought, but I am on vacation and I don’t intend to spend it with you. Ivan tensed and leaned to his left, ready to run like he never had before. The man must have seen his slight change in stance because he threw himself against Ivan and in turn against the window. Ivan was beginning to miss being able to teleport everywhere.

  “What the hell mate!” Ivan was squished, and his cheek flattened on the window like a soft football. The guy’s body oder made Ivan gag even though it was hard to breathe given the weight leaning on him.

  “Just don’t move asshole!”

  ***

  When Nick came into the light, it seared his eyes. The glare of the sun was harsh and evil. He blinked. When he could stand it, he squinted around at the world for the first time in years. The field in which he stood was vast and the grass flowed in the wind. The blades were long and the sensation of them brushing his side was delicious. Timidly, he stroked them and shivered at the touch. The sun was edging towards the horizon and a cascade of colours dashed across the sky. Blue, pink, orange and red. Inhaling he smelt the countryside. The thick smell was familiar, and his eyes filled. Not too far away, birds chirped.

  Nick lay down in the grass. His legs were weak, and he couldn’t think. Sensory overload and the battle had taken its toll. He could still hear the screams of the rest of the pack echoing in his ears. They had lost so many on their way out and he knew that some must be on earth dying of their wounds. He closed his eyes and listened to the beating of his own heart. It helped to drown out his thoughts and let him focus on one simple fact; he was out and alive. For the first time in ages he felt as if the weight that had been pressing down on his shoulders since they had lost the first battle to the demons was a little lighter. His body ached all over, but he was no longer
sweating and choking on air that was too hot to breathe. A stab of guilt went through him as the image of Dan’s body came flodding back. Even if his friend did come back to life he was still trapped in hell. Nick had left him behind. His chest was tight, and tears flowed down his cheeks and into the grass. Emotional and physical exhaustion took hold of him and he fell asleep.

  Suddenly he woke to the agony of his bones cracking. His legs and arms were quickly broken. He screamed until his windpipe broke inwards and silenced the call. The feeling that roared within him was familiar, but this was more intense than he remembered. It was a choking panic alongside a primal rage. He felt his will ebb away to the beast that clawed him open from within. With effort, he turned his eyes to the sky. There, laughing at him from the heavens was the full moon. Nick knew that he was succumbing to the curse that was in his blood. All werewolves had some demon blood that forced them to change into monsters during the full moon. This would have been bad enough, but Nick was something else. A monster born because he had more demon blood in him than the wolves did.

  He didn’t know what it was but from childhood he called it the gargoyle.

  Red tinted the earth as the gargoyle took him over and gazed around. For so long he had been trapped, too long caged, held down and beaten. Now he was hungry.

  Wings burst out of the skin of Nick’s back and protrusions one like a horn and the other a spiked ear grew from the top of his skull. His human features morphed into wide black eyes and a snout filled with razor teeth. A thin layer of patchy fur spread across his skin like a rash. His legs and arms healed back together, longer and with more muscle than before. He grew a thin long tail that came to a point like a thorn. His fingers became bent and his nails became ebony claws. The beauty of the field seemed to cower beneath the hulking shadow of the beast. He threw his head back and roared. The sound was like an explosion.

  Across the field, three demons appeared in clouds of dark smoke, with weapons. They had come from hell and they must have been hoping to catch him before he turned. The gargoyle stood before them, his teeth shining with spittle as he glared at his prey.

  In another moment he was across the field. His claws screeched into the sword one of the demons raised to defend himself. The force behind them drove the sword back until the wielder was knocked to the ground. The braver of the two remaining, jumped to help. His blade hit the creature in the back, leaving a small gash in its wake. The gargoyle reeled on him and forced his claws into his chest. The demon trembled helplessly.

  Sinking his teeth into the demon’s throat, the gargoyle tasted revenge in his sweet blood. Simultaneously, the gargoyle drew back his jaws and separated his arms. The victim was reduced to two lumps of man that should have fit together.

  The third demon ran for it. Feverishly, he muttered the incantation to return to hell. The beast landed on his back, crushing the spine and ribs into the ground, rupturing organs. He felt a thrilling shiver run through his body when he heard the crunching and wet snapping sounds.

  The one who had been attacked first yelled for help. He was still on the ground. His eyes rolled around in their sockets. Blood fell from the monster’s teeth onto his tongue and it tasted divine.

  He took one step closer to the cowering demon.

  The demon swore and tried to stand. His ankle was broken, and he fell.

  The gargoyle stalked closer. Red splashed through his mind. Glorious blood red.

  The demon staggered to his feet and started to try to run but his ankle slowed him down.

  The monster was not worried that he would escape. He can already hear the tear of skin that will come, and he anticipates the ecstasy of swallowing the blood.

  The demon’s breathing was shallow and fast to the monster’s ears.

  Thinking of the feeling of bone submitting to his power, the gargoyle’s thoughts drowned in one basic instinct; to kill.

  The demon was watching the beast as he ran, and his foot caught on a rock. He fell onto his face, crying out as he did.

  The gargoyle wasted no more time, pouncing on the demon with a snarl. Then all was lost to agony, blood and vicious delight.

  ***

  Abyzou sat on the ground looking at Dan for ages. He had woken up, but something was wrong. His wounds were bleeding. They didn’t heal as they should have and the harsh edges of the gash splitting his face were red and frayed. His body had knit back together but it seemed to be falling apart again. The flicker of the hell flames illuminated them both. Otherwise all around them was darkness. The rocky walls were vague shapes in the shadows and the chattering of the fires was the only sound. Most of the demons were too shaken up about the fact that someone had escaped hell to do any torturing.

  Abyzou willed Dan to heal. She focused on him like she could make it happen just by the power of her eyes. He choked on nothing and Abyzou tried not to swear.

  She heard him chuckle in the darkness.

  “What’s with you? You are dying in hell and think it’s funny?” she snarled at him. How dare he die. This was hell, and no one was allowed to die.

  He let out a broken breath. “No. It’s not funny at all but I’m glad it’s happening, in a way.”

  She stood and stalked the tiny room. Her heavy steps echoed off the stone walls. “You want to escape your suffering? You coward.”

  He looked at her. His eyes were glassy, and she doubted whether he could really see her at all.

  “I’m not a coward. I would suffer for another ten thousand years if it meant getting revenge on you and that bitch who tortured me. I was afraid I wasn’t going to get it, but I think I am.” He returned to staring at the ceiling. The sound of a scream came from somewhere far away.

  “What do you mean?” Abyzou snorted.

  Dan’s voice was faint, and he wasn’t moving. Abyzou could see that it was a struggle for him to breathe.

  “I’ve seen how you look at him, you twisted bitch. I watched you let him go. You even told him…. how to escape…” His sentences were broken by pained wheezes. “You think that he will feel something for you if you wait long enough or….do some good deeds. But I’m dying, …and he will never forgive that.” He gasped a breath which huffed out in one sentence. “Now I know, you can’t get anywhere near him.”

  The demon stormed over to glare down at him. Strings of flesh which had fallen from his wounds, squished under her foot. He stank of rot and decay.

  “How dare you imply I would lower myself in that way. I will make you wish you had never let a single word escape your muzzle.”

  He didn’t respond.

  The flames burnt away his flesh and the ground opened up to swallow his bones. Abyzou waited to tell him he was wrong, but his soul never returned to hell. Rage and hatred made her body tense and her breathing shallow. There was something wrong with hell if not only could he die but his soul could be taken to heaven. She hated him for the things he had said, but she told herself none of it mattered anyway.

  ***

  Ivan leaned back in the metal chair and then shuffled to try to get comfortable.

  “Who buys this shit to sit on,” he said. He stood and took off his jacket. The simple act of removing the black jacket made him smile because he felt the temperature drop on his arms. With careful precision, like someone laying a tablecloth, he draped the jacket on the chair. Dropping down again he groaned.

  “No, still feels shit.” He folded the jacket and tried sitting on that, but his spine was still attacked by the back of the chair. Ivan stood up again and regarded the chair. A stupid skinny silver thing. It fitted in with the boring room. All that was thrown into the mixing bowl for this sorry place was grey and black and a terrible smell of sweat.

  Deciding there was nowhere nice to sit, the reaper stood. On the wall to his right was a mirror the length of the wall and half the height. Apart from that, there was nothing to keep him busy. Noticing a smudge of dirt on his shirt, Ivan began to scratch at it while looking in the mirror. This led to a full inspection o
f his face, hair and clothes.

  The door screeched open and a tall woman in uniform marched in. Her face was set in a frown and her forehead was creased. The uniform hung on her bones like she was a washing line. She had thin strands of blonde hair pushed into her hat and when she took off the cap, the hair still didn’t move.

  In her hand, she held a folder, dented from the force of her nails. She remained static and motioned to the chair. When Ivan didn’t move, she requested that he sit.

  He sat on the table, swinging his legs.

  “In the chair,” the officer demanded. She didn’t smile back at him when he tried a grin at her. When both had sat down the woman spoke slowly.

  “I am officer Kershaw. I am here to ask you about the murder you witnessed today in Eyre Square.”

  Ivan leaned back in the chair until he was lounging. “Wouldn’t say I witnessed a murder, mate. I’ve done that before and usually they require a murderer to be present.”

  “This is no laughing matter sir.” Her sea foam eyes tried to cut into him.

  “Sir? My god I’m old now aren’t I. People keep calling me that.”

  Kershaw cracked her teeth together and the muscle in her jaw jumped.

  “Okay, mate, tell you what, you ask me whatever it is you wanna know and then I can get out of this weird place.” He swept a piece of fluff off his trousers. It stuck to his finger and he flung his hand around until it let go.

  “What did you do to that young girl? Did you hurt her?”

  “Me? No. I don’t hurt people. If your friend is anything to go by people hurt me.” Ivan squished his brows down on his eyes. “Weird turn of events.” He still wasn’t sure what he had done to deserve to be tackled against a window.

  “Did you see anyone else at the scene, or fleeing from it then?” Kershaw exhaled.

  Ivan was fed up and he hummed at the ceiling. This was a very boring place. The only thing to look at was Kershaw or his own reflection. He decided if he was stuck here he may as well have a little fun. “Yea, course I did.”

  Kershaw opened a notebook in front of her. “Can you give me a description? Any little detail could help.”