The Soul Eater

by S. C. Alban

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  Publisher’s Note:

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and events are the work of the author’s imagination.

  Any resemblance to real persons, places, or events is coincidental.

  Cover Artist – FrinaArt

  http://frinaart.com/

  Solstice Publishing - www.solsticepublishing.com

  Copyright 2017 – S.C. Alban

  For my Lilly,

  Without the strange stuff, life would be boring.

  The Soul Eater

  S.C. Alban

  Chapter One

  The Rook

  The city of Oakcrest reminded Carol of a stinky armpit. Hidden, like the offensive body part, from the rest of California. Tucked in tight between Highway 108 and Highway 120, no one would suspect it there if they didn’t have specific reason to go. Oh, and the smell was something special. From the overextended factory farm on the east end, sour cow manure stench leached into the air. Carol imagined how the fumes would taste on hot summer days when the temperature topped one hundred degrees. She shrugged her shoulders and gripped the steering wheel until her knuckles turned white.

  It doesn’t matter. This is where I am.

  She passed The Dollar Mart Shopping Center and took note of the empty spaces in the huge lot.

  Is there even a Starbucks?

  She swallowed hard and pushed the tears away. Everything would be okay. No surprises here, it was exactly what she thought it would be. As she drove further into town, on the one main road, she lifted her chin a tad and resigned herself to the next phase of her existence.

  Existence.

  Carol scoffed at what her life had become. Spittle dribbled out in small beadlets and landed on her lips.

  Tears gathered like salty pools in her lids stinging her eyes. When her eyelashes could no longer hold the flood back, they fell down her cheeks in hot, wet streaks. She wiped them away with the back of her hand. Three months ago, she never would have imagined her life on this trajectory.

  Three months.

  Ninety days.

  Carol searched her purse on the passenger seat with one hand while she kept her eyes on the now-blurry road. Finding her tissues, she removed one from the packet and dabbed her eyes. Dammit.

  Why am I still crying? John already took everything from me. Does he need my dignity, too?

  Carol blew her nose and fast-forwarded through her life as a happily married and successful attorney quickly climbing the ranks to Partner in a rising beachfront city—to where she was now—a divorced associate at a no-name firm in a dry, forgotten, stanky pit of a cow town. She pulled her car over and parked.

  Carol scrunched her nose taking in the scenery. In desperate need of a makeover, Main Street resembled something out of the Old West. None of the buildings exceeded two stories and all hinted at an obsession with Late Victorian architecture. Carol took a deep breath and swung open her car door. Standing on the sidewalk, she reached her arms above her head until her stomach muscles ached. Releasing the stretch, she looked toward the town square. A bronzed statue of a cowboy riding a bucking bronco stood proudly in its center.

  “Oh, God, what have I done?” Carol groaned, rethinking her plan.

  How could I have been so rash? Surely, I could get my old job back if I asked.

  She imagined walking into her old office and asking for her job back. Of course, they would give it to her. She was the most dedicated attorney in the group. They called her the Dragon Lady for a reason. During her years at Hamilton & Carver, LLP, she became the cold, calculating bulldog she needed to be. And, made more money for them, than she could count.

  She sniffled. Not anymore, though. Now, she was transformed into a blubbering, snot filled, pile of emotion. She’d never be able to pull down the cases she won only

  three months prior. Still, it wasn’t too late. She was sure if she went back…

  Her stomach twisted. It still didn’t solve the John problem.

  She clutched at her middle. No, she wouldn’t go back. She couldn’t. John had disappointed her one time too many. Plus, he didn’t want her back. He made it abundantly clear when he screwed the barista at their favorite coffee shop. No, this was her fresh start, a chance to begin again. Carol noticed a large banner draped across the square between two light posts at the intersection.

  Welcome to Oakcrest:

  The Cowboy Capital of California

  Carol closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She felt her lungs fill with the sour tasting air.

  That can’t be healthy… can it?

  So what if instead of surfers, she’d see cowboys while she shopped or the pungent scent of manure now replaced the invigorating smell of fresh salt water? Things were going to be different. She expected it.

  “Carol? Is that you? I didn’t think you’d be here until the afternoon.”

  Carol spun around to see Sue Thompson approaching. A fast-talking, no nonsense sales woman, Sue maintained position as the top commission earner at Oakcrest Realty. When Carol walked into the small office looking for a rental, Sue promptly took the reins. With Sue Thompson, buying a home seemed like the only smart option. With the divorce settlement and her savings pooled together, Carol gathered a sizable nest egg in a short amount of time. She had been saving for when she became pregnant, a plan she abandoned when another woman beat her to it.

  Carol pressed her lips together. It all seemed like a distant dream…another life where she had lived and died.

  “Yeah, Sue. I wasn’t planning until this afternoon, but packing up took less time than I thought… and I guess I just wanted to get on with it.”

  “Of course. Let’s just head to the office and we’ll get everything settled.”

  The two women walked side-by-side three doors down to Oakcrest Realty. Sue dug around in her bag and produced a large ring of keys. She unlocked the glass door and they entered the large one room office.

  “Well, I hope you’re ready to sign a few more papers,” the realtor said in a light voice. She walked around her desk and sat in the large padded chair. Reaching into the top drawer, she pulled out a fat file and placed it in front of her.

  Carol watched the woman carefully. Sue’s suit flashed a deep purple and fit her in all the right places, although the skirt a bit short for Carol’s liking. As a lawyer, she’d never be able to pull off something above her knee and be taken seriously. The woman’s three-inch heels peeking out from underneath the desk were the exact shade of the suit, and Carol wondered if she had them custom-dyed to match or if it were a coincidence.

  Sue’s copper-dyed hair balanced in a bun high atop her head and highlighted her expertly applied make-up. A deep berry colored matte lipstick finished the look. Carol tucked a flyaway strand of plain brown hair behind her ear and tugged at the hem of her worn t-shirt. Since she now existed on her own, and not as the other half of a partnership, self-care had dropped down on her list of priorities. She let herself go recently; looking at Sue reminded her just how much.

  Sue leaned back in her chair and opened the file. A small brooch encrusted in black gemstones clung to the lapel. The small bobble caught a slice of sunlight cutting through the office and glinted in Carol’s eye. She squinted.

  “That’s a unique brooch,” she said leaning forward for a better look. The nearly two-dozen melanite stones were set in the shape of a bird. “Is that a raven?”

  “This old thing,” Sue replied waving i
t off. “Just an antique passed down by the women in my family. Silly, really. But, every now and then, I feel nostalgic and decide to put it on.” She laughed lightly.

  Turning her attention to the file before her, Sue motioned for Carol to sit. “Please have a seat. I know I’ve said this before, Carol, but you really have gotten a steal with this house.”

  The house had been on the market for more than a year. After foreclosing on the previous owners, the bank finally decided to unload the property. Oakcrest Unity Bank had lowered their asking price over fifty thousand dollars. Always the saleswoman, Sue honed in on Carol’s desperation and hit all her must haves with the house.

  A bit of a fixer upper with nothing structurally serious? Check.

  Partly furnished? Check.

  Short escrow and ready for immediate move-in? Double check.

  “I still can’t believe the bank accepted my offer. It already listed below market.” Carol knew her business, and being an attorney came in handy when negotiating the house specifics. Still, her attorney’s sense also threw suspicion on the “too good to be true” deal.

  Sue glanced across the desk at her client and smiled.

  “Well, you have no idea how many people turn around and run once I’ve given full disclosure,” she began. “But, I suppose that’s just part of the whole small town mentality, folks around here are a bit weary of the house after… well, you know.”

  Carol nodded in understanding. “I suppose superstitions get the better of people. Doesn’t matter if it’s the twenty-first century, people are afraid of what they don’t understand.”

  “That’s what I like about you, Carol. You’re practical. I mean, that house was built after the groundbreaking of the new development in the west section of town. The Grahams were the first and only owners of the property... moved in from Silicon Valley and got way more home than they could ever afford in the city. They were a real nice family, too. Other than their daughter’s… issues, the house is perfectly fine. Although, in desperate need of some love.” She paused for air.

  “How long were they there again? I know it was in the file, but with all the paperwork I’ve been going through these past months, some of the house details slipped.” Carol felt a burst of anger flash through her chest. Not only had John left her, he made the settlement as complicated as he could.

  Dammit, John. This is all your fault. I wouldn’t even be here, if you’d just kept your pants zipped!

  Sue rested back in her chair. “Oh, gosh, they were only there for a couple of weeks before their daughter, Gina, began having… the episodes.”

  “That’s right. It’s coming back to me now,” Carol interrupted. “Weren’t they seizures of a sort?”

  Sue cleared her throat. She rolled her lips back to moisten them. “Well, not quite. It was more than a few seizures… Gina began getting very paranoid... fidgety-like. She’d be easily startled... scared all the time”—she tapped her fingers on her desk—“Small town gossip, you know. Doesn’t matter if you want to keep a secret. Sometimes the harder you try to keep something down, the more it fights to get out.”

  Carol bit the inside of her cheek at Sue’s words. The same thing happened with John. The more Carol tried to ignore John’s indiscretions, the more blatant they became, until Carol could no longer ignore the affair. She didn’t want to see it for so long. Embarrassment and foolishness held the truth at bay. She inhaled deeply and tried to push John’s image from her mind.

  Let it go, Carol. He’s not worth your time anymore.

  Sue continued.

  “The school began calling home on a regular basis. You know, they couldn’t deal with her. It was getting out of control really. Her parents thought maybe it was drugs, sometimes kids experiment, you know”—she shook her head—“but it wasn’t. Poor girl. Avoiding her friends, avoiding home, and scared to be alone… such a shame. What else could they do?”

  “I can’t imagine having to admit my child to psychiatric observation.” The statement stung Carol as she realized it would most likely be quite some time before she had to worry about making any decisions regarding children. “I can’t imagine having to leave anyone I love alone in a facility like that.”

  Sue nodded her head in agreement. “The Grahams were good people. They were well liked. Always ready to help the community… very active. They tried everything they could think of to help her, too… medication... Chinese herbs... crystals... anything imaginable to help Gina.”

  Carol leaned forward. “It must have been heartbreaking.”

  Sue took a deep breath and shook her head slowly. “Gina was a good girl. Nice, polite… one of the innocent ones. Not like those Morrigan girls claiming to be young ladies”—she scoffed—“Lord, Liza Morrigan should have gotten her tubes tied before those three… nothing but drama since the day they were born. And, the parents? Goodness, acting as if everyone who does well in this town owes them something.” Sue pursed her lips and straightened the brooch on her lapel.

  Carol lowered her brows as she studied the woman across from her. Why would Sue owe the Morrigans anything? What business did they have together?

  Carol had never met the Morrigans, but she already had a good idea of the kind of family they were given Sue’s apparent disdain of them. Carol watched as Sue’s face went through a season of emotions from anger to guilt to sadness to remorse. What was Sue not telling her? She focused her attention back on the realtor.

  “To come home and find your child hiding in a closet… naked and covered in blood”—Sue closed her eyes to reveal the perfect winged-shape of her eyeliner—“Horrible. Just horrible. Fussing and blabbering about a birdman coming to peck her eyes out and eat her soul... or something like that.” Sue waved her hands dramatically in front of her. “Just awful… the poor thing. Oh, and her parents? I grieve for them. The whole town does, really. All their money tied up into treating Gina. Dragging her to the University for the best treatments every weekend… nothing worked. Each month we saw less and less of them. They grew distant to the community. It was such a strain on the family and eventually they ran out of funds, lost their home... moved back in with family in the Bay Area.”

  Carol gazed down at her hands. “I’ve dealt with it in the courtroom too many times. Mental illness can break a family into pieces.”

  Yup, mental illness and knocking up a cute, young barista. The two most common reasons families break up.

  Carol twisted her hands together. “What happened to the girl?”

  “I believe they ended up committing her to The Stockton Center for the Emotionally Disturbed. She lives there now… or so I hear. After her third… um, accident, her parents were able to place her in residency. But, it must be tough, going to see your child and she has no idea who you are.”

  Sue snapped out of her thought and waved her hand in the air. “Anyway, people round here are weary of the home given the circumstance. And new buyers? Well, it’s not a pleasant story to move into, especially if you talk to anyone in this town first with everyone gossiping about it being cursed with evil. Probably started by the Morrigans, no doubt, making my job more difficult, walking around this town like they own the damn place”— she scoffed—“It’s all just small town folks, you know, not knowing the difference between a bunch of superstition and mental health issues.”

  Carol forced a smile on her face. “Well, I’m not one to confuse tragedy with folklore. So, everyone’s loss is my gain.”

  “You got that right.”

  “Now, where are those papers? I’ve got some signing to do.”

  Chapter Two

  Fit to be Pied

  The house was nothing spectacular, a two-story piece of crap, to be sure. It was one of those cookie-cutter homes, an exact replica of the rest of the homes in the development. This home looked like a leftover design from an era thirty years prior. Carol immediately recognized the homes in this neighborhood were similar in style, though each model had slight differences.

  She
sighed. What it lacked in personality it made up for in availability, which trumped all. She needed it now.

  The front was the color of a cloudy day with a cobalt blue trim and a clay tile roof. The two-car driveway sat to the right of the property with a narrow walk leading up to the front entrance on the left.

  “What are you doing? You must be out of your mind,” she mumbled under her breath when she took her first steps onto the property. “Well, you wanted something different. Ask and you shall receive.”

  Carol glanced at the low fence. Newly painted posts glinted in the early afternoon sun and sat squat along the west side of the property, separating the house from an empty field. Public records indicated the wide space used to be a small independent almond orchard, long deserted since the drought hit the valley hard a decade ago. The owner could not keep up with the cost.

  Carol examined the front of her new home. A raised porch, also newly painted, wrapped around the front half of the house. Three wide steps led up to the entry. She turned toward the east side of the property. There were at least fifty yards until the next house.

  Good, no immediate neighbors. I could use more privacy these days.

  Carol placed one hand on her hip. She stood in what she could only assume was the lush front yard advertised. By the crunch of the brown grass and dirt beneath her shoes, lush was a long way off. Still, the mild cosmetic makeover told her the bank did put in for some improvements and it proved to be the only house in the area matching her tight budget and pesky timeline.

  Carol furrowed her brow. She really hadn’t been given much time at all. The whole process flew by in a rush. The partners at Oak Valley Law Firm expected her relocated and ready to work by the month’s end, so time was a luxury she couldn’t afford at the moment.

  Besides, there’s nothing left for you in Seaside? This is your chance to start fresh.

  A dry wind caught the ends of her hair and she tightened her grip on her purse. The not so subtle stench of cow manure burned her nostrils.