by Erik Lynd
“You mean the little girl that almost killed you?”
“Well, I don’t know if I would put it that way.”
“Yeah, I think you said she was ten or something…”
“More like fifteen,” Christopher corrected Hamlin. The detective was enjoying this way too much.
“Sure, whatever. You said she had been messing with your soul, right?”
“She was manipulating the shard of my soul that had been taken by the were-hellhound. She was somehow able to use that to hurt me. Almost control me.”
“But she wasn’t able to control you?” Hamlin asked, but he knew the answer.
“No, not yet. I was able to fight it. I closed that part of myself off by drawing on my power to fill the gap.”
“I’ve meant to ask about that, you don’t talk about it…”
Christopher cut him off, “It’s not really important now. We can talk after we solve this little problem.”
Hamlin stared at Christopher for a second as though debating something. Then he sighed. “My point is, she seemed untrained maybe? She’s young, right?”
“Yeah, that’s probably right.”
“Well, maybe she’s practicing?”
“You mean on these victims? To go from manipulating a small portion of a soul to stealing them from living humans seems like quite a jump to me.”
“I agree, but if she has a former inmate of Hell or a group of them helping her? With the insane resources these guys have access to, they might be able to hurry her training along.”
Christopher sighed. “Yeah, we know these dark souls all have different talents and abilities. If they are backing her, they might have found some way to speed up her development. But it could just as easily be a new dark soul that we haven’t encountered yet, some newly escaped menace.”
Hamlin nodded thoughtfully, “True. This girl as a suspect is just one theory. We can’t get tunnel vision. That’s detective work 101, it’s just so hard to remember the basics in this new supernatural world I now live in.”
“Tell me about it,” Christopher mumbled.
“If only there were some sort of resource with unlimited knowledge that could maybe give us some guidance…” Hamlin said.
“Google?” Christopher asked.
Hamlin just raised an eyebrow.
“Okay Spock, I get it. You want me to ask the Librarian.” Christopher said.
The Librarian was the only resident of an infinitely large library housed in another dimension. A library that contained all the knowledge in the universe and was accessible via the Book that Christopher had inherited when he assumed the office of the Lord of Damnation. The Librarian was kind of a consultant to Christopher’s office. There was some debate over whether the Librarian was even real. That didn’t seem to stop him from being a dick, however.
“I can ask him about this and the girl. I have a training session soon. I can speak with him then,” said Christopher.
“You still training regularly?”
Christopher nodded, “At least once a day, sometimes two or three sessions a day.”
“Jesus kid,” said Hamlin, genuinely showing concern this time. “I’ve seen how you are after training. Don’t kill yourself by overworking.”
“I have to get better, Hamlin. That’s the only way I’ll be able to do my job. My prey isn’t slowing down and I can’t afford to, either.”
“Maybe, but there is more to fighting this evil than being fast with that Weapon. If you’re in too much pain or too exhausted, you might miss what’s really important.”
“Oh yeah, Hamlin? And what’s that?”
Hamlin looked like he was about to answer, when a man walked into the room. He came up short when he noticed them standing next to the corpses.
“Oh, hello detective. I didn’t expect to see you back again so soon. Did you forget something?” asked the man. He was older and wearing a white lab coat, thick glasses rested on his nose and his forehead cracked in veiny wrinkles when his eyes raised in surprise.
“No doc. I was just getting KC up to speed here. He’s a…um…”
“Consultant. Specialist really,” Christopher said.
“What kind of specialist?”
“Death, or rather what happens right afterward,” said Christopher.
Now the doctor’s eyes came together in a frown.
“He’s a psychic,” Hamlin offered. Christopher noted he said it much quieter than usual.
The doctor’s face switched back to surprise with not a small amount of amusement. “I see. Any of these guys tell you what happened to them?”
“Speaking with the dead is a medium, I’m a psychic,” Christopher said. He had no idea why he was getting angry at the doctor. Christopher was neither a medium nor a psychic. He just didn’t like this man’s smug-as-fuck looks.
“What’s the difference?” asked the doctor.
“Here let me show you.”
Christopher stepped toward the man. Then Hamlin was at his side grabbing his elbow.
“I think we’ve seen all we can here. Let’s get out of the doctor’s hair.”
Christopher allowed Hamlin to guide him around the doctor and into the hallway beyond. It was for the best; there was no telling what he would do to the good doctor. He felt the anger bubbling up from his Hellpower inside, but he held it back.
This was not the first time he had felt the irrational anger burning him up on the inside, but he thought he was over it that last time. Apparently, the curse was still on him.
When they came back to the lobby, Officer Marone had moved to the other side of the room. As soon as Christopher came through the door, his eyes bolted down as though the ugly floor was some great work of art and he was frantically trying to analyze it for an upcoming art history class quiz. His pants were wet like he had tried to clean them off in the bathroom.
He still smelled like urine.
Outside the building, Hamlin hissed in Christopher’s ear. “You can’t go around starting something with folks just because they piss you off. It’s called life. Sometimes you just need to ignore it. What’s gotten into you?”
Christopher yanked his arm away from Hamlin’s grip and gave him a cold look.
“I’ll go to the Library and see what I can get out of my creepy friend there. What are you going to do?”
For a moment it looked like Hamlin was going to fight, give Christopher a piece of his mind. But then he just sighed, sounding like the oldest man in the world. “I’m gonna check all the locations where the bodies were found, see if there is any connection to our night job that the other officers missed.”
Christopher nodded once and then turned down the street. He could feel Hamlin’s lingering stare on his back. Christopher ignored it.
5
Christopher materialized in the Library standing in the middle of the study area. The Librarian was only a few feet away with his back to Christopher. This was a first, catching the Librarian by surprise. Although traveling to the Library was as simple as opening the Book and letting it transport him here, the actual journey, lasting a fraction of a second, was disorienting and strenuous, to say the least. It was getting easier, however; his first time he thought he was being torn apart mentally and physically. The pain was still there but dulled somewhat with experience.
The Library itself was the same extra-dimensional space it always was. Shelves stacked high, filled with obscure artifacts, scrolls, stone and wood tablets, but mostly books, reached up toward a ceiling obscured by mist and darkness. These shelves stretched off into an almost infinite number of rows.
The walls of the vast room were of old stone. Castle walls, Christopher thought. There were several doors and hallways from this room, but Christopher knew they just led to other rooms just as big or bigger. All the knowledge of the universe was stored in this place and couldn’t be contained in earthly dimensions.
It smelled of ancient ideas and modern concepts—a scent of old, yet fresh at the same tim
e. A fire burned in the hearth set in one wall, giving a slight wood smoke scent. Comfy wingback chairs stood next to it, and just behind them were a couch, table and large wooden desk with a well-cushioned chair behind it.
As daunting as this place was, Christopher had found it feeling more and more like home for him. He could never live here, but while visiting, he felt safe. He had been told this was all a metaphor for the true power of the Book. That this library had been created just for him to process and understand the knowledge represented by this powerful artifact. Therefore, it was a part of him.
The Librarian turned moments after Christopher had arrived.
“Interesting. Normally I know when you are on the way,” the Librarian said. The Librarian was tall, draped in dark shadowy robes like the coat and clothes Christopher formed out of shadow for his uniform when hunting. The robe and hood covered his body entirely; Christopher had never seen a piece of the Librarian’s skin, not even a hand from the sleeve and nothing could penetrate the darkness of his hood.
He didn’t walk so much as float through the stacks; Christopher wasn’t even sure he had feet. His voice was heavy, dark, and full of mystery.
If Christopher hadn’t been used to the Librarian, he would have been scared shitless. As it was he only said, “I seem to have the drop on you for once. How’s it hanging?” He was as much surprised as the Librarian.
“It is hanging just fine. I’m not surprised your comfort level with the Library has increased. You have become far more accustomed to your power and ability over the last few months.”
“Thank you for the compliment,” Christopher said. Any praise from the Librarian was very rare and usually ended in a backhanded compliment.
“I don’t think it was a compliment,” said the Librarian. Ignoring Christopher’s puzzled stare, he went on, “What brings you to visit my little abode? I assume it wasn’t just to sneak up on me and yell boo?”
Christopher walked over to the couch and dropped onto it. He slid into a slump with a sigh.
“Please make yourself comfortable,” the Librarian said.
“Hamlin and I have come across a puzzle we were hoping you could help us with. Well, this is more Hamlin’s show, but it does seem to tie into my work.”
“Ah, the downtrodden detective and the work of the Hunter? You have my attention.”
“He found a body, three bodies actually, that appeared to have their souls removed.”
“That is typically what happens when mortals die. Have you been paying attention at all?”
Now it was time for Christopher to ignore the sarcasm. “These souls were removed before they died, presumably causing the death. There was no other medical reason.”
“So, these souls were not removed through the typical means, such as a magic sword through the gut? Interesting.”
“We, Hamlin and I, have a theory…”
“How is Eris?” the Librarian asked.
The question caught Christopher by surprise and for a moment he was nonplussed. The Librarian rarely showed interest in his companions in the real world. “No change. Still in a coma. Juan has hacked into her medical files, so I get a little information that way, but not a lot. I can’t do much more than stare at her through a window at night. I send money for all the expenses of course, anonymously. She has the best care.” He said that last part more defensively than he would have liked.
“Why do you ask? I mean you never really seemed to care about my friends before.”
“Nonsense, I care about all those working with the Hunter of Lost Souls. I like to keep on top of your associates.” The Librarian had glided closer to the fire and now loomed over Christopher. “And Eris is different, she is special.”
“Because of the half-demon thing?”
“No, because I like her better than you.”
“You haven’t even met her. She can be a real pain in the ass.”
“I know. From everything you have told me she seems very good for you. Both do.”
“Look, can we get back to the topic at hand? Hamlin and I need help,” said Christopher.
“Yes, unauthorized soul removal. Do you have any other details?”
“Just some guesses and instincts.”
“From your lifetime of soul hunting experiences, I presume. Lay it on me, as the kids say these days.”
While Christopher was pretty sure the kids did not say that line these days, correcting the Librarian wouldn’t make a difference.
“Hamlin and I thought it might somehow be tied to the girl who had been working with Golyat. The one that was with him in Mexico.”
“The one who had somehow ended up in possession of the piece of your soul that werehellhound had absconded with.”
“Yeah, that’s the one. I mean it’s tenuous at best, but she was able to do some stuff to me by manipulating that piece. It’s really the only lead we have.”
“While I can’t guarantee it is her, the connection is valid.”
Christopher perked up. “Really?”
“Yes. I did some research when you first told me about her and based on what I have found, I think I might know what she is.”
After a long pause, while Christopher sat literally on the edge of his seat, he finally asked: “And?”
“I hesitate because I am not one hundred percent certain, and I am not sure you are going to like it.”
“Since when have you been considerate of my feelings?”
“Well, you’ve been through some shit as they say, and I am not sure how it is affecting your mental state. I suddenly feel the need to watch what I say.”
“You’re worried I’m on the verge of a nervous breakdown?”
“Nothing quite so mundane. Crack like an egg is more like it. Go mad. Batshit crazy. And that is the last thing this world needs. A dingbat with a magic sword.”
Suddenly Christopher was angry. “Why the hell is everybody suddenly so concerned about my feelings and mental state? I’m fine. If anything, I’m better than fine. I am slowly but surely mastering my powers; I’ve become a much more efficient Hunter. I’m way better than I was before!”
“Before?” asked the Librarian.
“Before, you know before. Look, just don’t hold anything back. I’m going to be just fine, and I need all the information you can give me. You’re the Librarian, act like it!”
There was a long silence. Then the Librarian spoke.
“So be it. I believe this mortal girl child you encountered was a witch. And a very special one at that.”
“You mean a cauldron and broomstick kind of witch?”
“Minus the cauldron and broomstick, yes. Witch is just one of the words used to describe any mortal, usually female, that has certain unexplainable abilities, usually termed magic. There are many kinds of these beings, but I think the one we are dealing with is a soul shaper.”
“Sounds like the right name. What exactly do these types of witches do?”
“Didn’t get it from the name? Alright. She can shape souls. Manipulate them and turn them to her desire. She can cause pain and suffering directly, as she did to you in Mexico. She can also twist and corrupt little parts of a soul. She can shift emotions and to some extent, control a victim’s actions.”
Christopher shuddered, remembering what she had done to him; the pain had been intense. It had almost killed him.
“Usually their power is limited unless they can actually gain access to a soul. There are all sorts of rituals for drawing souls to them when they pass and even to take a soul from a living being. Or as in your case, use a portion of one fetched by a werehellhound.”
“You make it sound so trivial.”
“Not my problem if you can’t keep your soul together. It is not, however, trivial. These are rare and coveted beings. You, more than anyone, know the value of the soul. Imagine a being that can manipulate who you are fundamentally. Not mind control, soul control. It is the essence of who you are, not just a parlor trick.”
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��So, it’s possible that she is the one taking these souls?”
“I’d say more than possible. Soul shapers are very rare. I know of none that have appeared in the modern era. It is doubtful there is another one or another being that has a similar power. Only…”
“Only?” asked Christopher.
“Only you said she was very young; and stealing souls—even manipulating you with the shard she had of your soul—is very advanced. From what I was able to ascertain only a highly gifted soul shaper would be able to do that at so young an age.”
“She is working with the Alliance, at least with their leader Golyat, so she would have some powerful supernatural backing.”
“She would be a strong weapon for them. No witches, soul shaper or otherwise, are necessarily born evil. But if she was corrupted by them, they could easily twist her to their will. My guess is Golyat is helping her obtain these souls to practice on.”
“You mean she has the poor souls and is torturing them? For practice?”
“That is one theory. Although she is not necessarily torturing them. I doubt sadistic pleasure is her or Golyat’s goal.”
“If that’s one theory, what’s the other?”
“My dear boy, I don’t think you understand the extent of the problem here. As much as it distracted you from saving Eris, causing you pain was the least of her potential. The real damage she did to you was the damage she did to your soul, the one you have now. You are changed. Yes, some of it you did yourself when you took in the Hellpower to replace what she had taken, but most of your personality change was from her manipulations.”
“I haven’t changed really, I’ve just gotten better at my job.” Christopher paused and then added sheepishly, “Okay, perhaps I’ve changed a little, but you can’t have a job like this and not change. It twists you all up inside.”
“Yes, but you are changing fundamentally; it is far beyond just becoming jaded. Now imagine if you could somehow change someone in power, someone important. Make them… different. Take a family man, average, but a decent person, and then turn him into a homicidal maniac? Not just screw up his mental state, but make him crave evil deep down. No suggestion or mind control to wear off, it’s just who they now are.”