Living Soul

by S. B. Niccum

  “You were not committed to the task, you cared more about what stilettos to wear on your way out of town, than how or if the work was done,” Agatha said through gritted teeth. Then with a little more effort they heaved the body onto a couch and left him there while Agatha retrieved a dagger from the wall.

  This wall was covered in a rather disturbing collection of these type of weaponry, all ranging from the very old and primitive to the very new and deadly. Agatha chose a small but sharp one.

  “Stay! We are not done here,” Agatha ordered.

  “I’m not touching any more dead bodies,” Eugenia said, while brushing a loose strand of hair back with one perfectly manicured finger.

  “You won’t have to, just do as I say and work on your acting skills.”

  Eugenia let out a frustrated sigh, then plopped on red velvet winged-back chair. “What will I get in return?”

  “Hmm … let’s see … maybe you will not get a life sentence and if you do it really well, you might just get the chance to become one with the Source.”

  “I don’t care about your mumbo jumbo, Source crap! I want my career back!”

  “Career?” Agatha sneered, then laughed. “When did you ever have a career?”

  Eugenia narrowed her eyes venomously.

  “You are a twit; you’ll never have a ‘career’ until you learn how to handle yourself a little bit better. The Source can only help you so much, at some point you have to help yourself.”

  “The Source did nothing for me, you did.”

  “The Source works through me; he counsels me and guides me. But it doesn’t come for free, the Source requires things … I have given all to him, now he requires more of you.”

  “Like what?”

  “Pledge yourself to him; give him your word that you will obey him.”

  Eugenia snorted, “In return for what?”

  “Your career.”

  “That’s not enough, I want more.”

  Agatha narrowed her eyes. “Well, Alex is dead, you can’t have him back.”

  “I don’t want Alex. I want Tess and I want to be released from my slavery to you! … And money, lots of it!”

  Agatha laughed. Then she walked closer to Eugenia and regarded her for a moment before leaning in even closer. “Pledge yourself, tonight,” she whispered in her ear.

  Hours later, the police left with a security camera’s tape that contained the incriminating footage of Eros’ murder by the hand of a woman with short dark hair, and his limp dead body. Eugenia was in the tape as well; she used up all the acting skills necessary to play the part of the person who found the bloody body and called the police.

  That night Agatha inducted Eugenia into her society. The ceremony was attended by a handful of people that Eugenia would have never guessed would be this involved in the operation, among them was the chief of police, who had taken the fake tape earlier that day. She also saw political leaders, major business owners and a few celebrities among the chosen hooded faces who had already pledged themselves to the Source. Soon shock turned into awe and awe turned into greed and greed into belief. These people had gotten where they were because of the Source, they were living proof that this … thing, whatever it was, was real.

  This new reality hit a whole new level when the initiation started and she was required to participate in the ritual. She was apprehensive, yet all the others were unflinching participants, so she would have to be so as well. Each part of the ritual broke her down just a little farther, each task killed one of her sensibilities and darkened her soul; but she found that she desired the outcome more than her soul. Perhaps her desires were her soul, and that’s all that really mattered.

  Eugenia got sick a few times, like she got sick a few hours earlier when she watched Agatha stab her dead husband over and over. All the participants moved about in zombie-like trances, their eyes had no light, no pity, just blank stares as she tried to finish all the tasks.

  When it was all over, Eugenia stood in the center of a candlelit circle, naked, painted with blood and broken. It was hard to imagine that these proud hooded figures had ever endured this same treatment. But apparently they did.

  During the party, Eugenia was greeted warmly by the elites of the group—those who had watched her sell her soul earlier. It was a well-attended event by all the members of the society, the elites who had pledged themselves, and the others, who hadn’t gotten that far yet. She was patted on the back, taken in, made one of them, introduced, treated with respect and promise. Naturally under this distinguished treatment, Eugenia was able to quiet her qualms. A toast was given in her honor and she was the center of attention.

  Those not part of the “inner” circle, wondered why these distinguished personalities were showering Eugenia—of all people—with their attention and respect. Like the subjects to the naked Emperor, they soon convinced themselves that there must be some good reason for this behavior, so they too joined in and took interest in Eugenia. Business cards were given, promises of lunches, dinners, parties and even jobs were offered. Eugenia couldn’t believe how quickly it was all working out for her and she reached the only conclusion possible—the Source was real.

  Chapter 34

  Like a hound dog picking up a scent, I was led to this house in what looked to be a respected suburb of Boston. I was certain that this was the right place, yet now that I was here, it felt oddly desolate in spite of the fact that the house looked full of people.

  I parked down the road a ways and started walking up the thickly treed sidewalk.

  “You’ve just missed him,” a man’s voice cut through the stillness of the night. I startled and turned, only to see the timeless face of Officer John Lovell.

  “Who?” I asked, regaining my composure.

  “Him,” he motioned with his head upward toward the sky.

  I felt like he had just punched me in the stomach and my knees buckled right there. In two strides, he was at my side and helping me up. “I don’t understand anything,” I said, confused and disoriented.

  John held me up and led me back to my rented car. I gave him the keys and he sat me in the passenger seat. He then went around the other side and sat in the driver’s seat. He didn’t turn the engine on; he simply sat there and exhaled. His face looked weary, but his eyes were bright.

  “Who are you?”

  “I told you, I’m—”

  I shook my head. “No, what are you?”

  He smiled, then his smile turned into a soft laugh. “It seems we are bound to have this conversation time and time again.” My puzzled look made him laugh again. “I’m an Aeonian, like Mathoniaha, remember him?

  I frowned, then nodded numbly. “The hobo? I mean the guy who helped us in Mexico?”

  “Yep, the same one.” He chuckled. “He’ll be happy to hear that he pulled it off so well.”

  “Pulled what off, and what’s an Aeonian?”

  “We are agents if you will, humans, who have sworn to spend the rest of Earth’s existence in the service of the Eternals.”

  “Like a priest?”

  “N—ot quite. We don’t represent any specific church, we serve only the Eternals, by that I mean God.”

  “Yeah, Celeste calls them that too ... but what do you mean the rest of Earth’s existence?”

  “We will not die until the world ends.”

  “You’re immortal?”

  “No,” he shook his head, “not immortal, Aeonian. We are somewhere in between mortal and immortal. Blood still runs through my veins.” He showed me his forearm and the blue veins that so clearly carried blood. “There are some perks though. As Aeoninans we possess an uncanny ability to heal. We feel no physical pain, we don’t age, we do feel emotional pain and sadness but we can see the whole picture, and this gives us perspective.”

  “That’s why you looked exactly the same in that picture.” I marveled.

  “What? What picture?” He asked with alarm.

  “My aunts showed me a stack of pi
ctures of my father; you were in one of them.”

  John shook his head, then nodded. “I tried to wiggle out of being in that picture, but your father would not have it. He insisted on me standing right there next to me.” He shook his head again, “he suspected me … the little devil was trying to make me blow my cover.”

  I turned and looked at him with alarm. On seeing this, John laughed again. “I’ll be needing that photo, by the way.”

  “It’s one of the only pictures I have of him.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll photo shop it, and then give it back.”

  “Have you always been … Aeonian?”

  “No. We all used to be mortal, but when we decided to stay and become Aeonian, we were changed.”

  “How long have you been alive?”

  “A long time,” he said with a final tone.

  “So … what are you doing here? I thought you were a detective in Dallas?”

  “I was a detective in Dallas, but I had to move on. I can only stay in one place for so long before people start noticing that I don’t age.”

  “So what are you now?”

  “Right now I have to see you through this. Then I’m off … back to my native land! I haven’t been there in ages.”

  “Where’s your native land?”

  “Israel.”

  “Really? And when you say ages, you mean … ”

  A smirk stole across his face. “ … I’m the John who wrote Revelations.”

  The phone at the Preston’s rang and no one picked up. Finally it stopped, then started up again. Blurry eyed, Dane made his way to the loud thing and answered it with resentment.

  “Yes?”

  “Dane? Is that you? This is Amor, um … Tess’ aunt. I’m sorry to call you at this time, I’m sure it’s still night time there, but you see, it’s dawn here.”

  “Yes, yes of course Amor,” Dane rubbed his eyes and tried to suppress his annoyance at the woman’s lack of awareness of this fact before she made the call. Then again, it might be an emergency.

  “It’s Dorian, Dane! He’s been taken! Kidnapped we think,” she added, coming to the point quickly as if reading his mind.

  “What? Taken? Dorian, why?”

  “Oh, I don’t know, I just don’t know. We’ve been looking for him all night, and nothing! There’s been a string of kidnappings here lately, all drug related, but … I don’t know. We don’t know what else to do, we’ve called the local authorities, but so far we got nothing. I feel so awful! He was left in our care!”

  By now Valerie was by the phone tying her robe and looking at Dane inquisitively. He covered the receiver, told her the news and at once she ran to get Tess.

  On the other side of the line there was a loud hubbub and Luz’s hysterical voice could be heard above the rest. “The empty ones took him! The empty ones!”

  “What? What does that mean?” Dane asked Amor.

  “We don’t know. She’s been like that all night. You see, Dorian and Luz were in town yesterday passing out food to some of the people we visit, when he disappeared. No one saw anything and all Luz can say is that. We’ve asked her to explain, but ... nothing.”

  “Is that why you think he was kidnapped?”

  “She’s gone!” Valerie shouted as she ran toward Dane holding one single piece of paper on her hand. “She’s gone!” she repeated as she handed Dane a note.

  “I’m not crazy, and I will prove it.”

  Like a puppeteer, Agatha watched from the sidelines how all her strings moved in perfect synchronicity. She reveled in her power over people; she reveled in the thought that the lives of all these people—whether they realized it or not—depended on her. She was the architect of their future and the one who the Source trusted to lead his chosen people here and now. With Eros she had built this, he had been a great ally. He had come into her life at a crucial point, he had trusted and believed in her implicitly and had turned over to her all that he had accomplished in his life. Building from his platform was easier than starting at the bottom. Now he was gone.

  The spirits had laughed and said that for once it wasn’t them—Leo—Tess’ father had taken it upon himself to punish Eros. Leo had done such a great job, that he had succeeded in driving the man to madness. Now Eros was gone forever and nothing would bring him back. Revenge was the only recourse now. An eye for an eye, Agatha thought. No one takes the man I love without feeling my full wrath.

  “Watch what you’re doing, you idiot!” Agatha snapped to a waiter who spilled a tray of drinks on her.

  “Sorry, ma’am,” the man said with a thick accent. “I’ll … clean that right up,” he added while whipping out a large white napkin and dabbing some of the areas where the drinks spilled.

  “Give me that!” Agatha wrenched the napkin from his grasp and cleaned herself up. “Who are you? I’ve never seen you before.”

  “New, ma’am.” The man bowed and backed away.

  “I didn’t hire anyone new.”

  “Javier, ma’am; he’s my cousin. He’s sick and I came for him.”

  Agatha squinted, and peered into the man’s face. “What’s your name?”

  “Mathoniaha, ma’am.”

  She stared numbly at the man, “M—whatever, clean up this mess,” Agatha ordered, then left in a rage.

  Mathoniaha straightened up, and watched her go with interest, his face no longer showing the submissive look of seconds past, but a sure and steady poker face.

  Looking all around, to make sure no one was watching her, Agatha slipped through the pantry door and disappeared. She groped in the darkness until she found the latch and hurriedly opened the door. She rushed down the steep narrow steps and took out a key from the folds of her robes. Excitement and a rush of adrenaline surged through her veins. “Tonight will be momentous,” she thought. She could feel the static and the churning of the spirits in the air. Tonight she would acquire more power—one way or another—she would gain Dorian’s and Tess’ gifts.

  Crouched in a corner, Dorian rocked himself back and forth.

  “We’ve never been friends … have we Dorian?

  Dorian continued rocking, ignoring the sound of that voice. He still had no idea what had happened, one moment he was in town with Luz passing out food and the next he woke up here. All his senses told him that he was in deep trouble, but none of them told him what to do about it. Now she shows up, for a second he thought it was Tess, because of the hair. But it wasn’t, it was her! He hated her.

  Knowing how to respond to things had never been his strong suit; the world puzzled him to no end. People would say one thing, then do another. No one was consistent in anything, how could he know what the best way to respond would be? He marveled at the way people interacted with each other, the need to talk and express every little detail about themselves …

  Luz talked a lot, but she was different, she only said what she meant and she did what she meant—and she talked with angels. Tess too, she could hear them, he knew that early on, even before she knew it. With Tess, life had been easy; she knew what he was thinking, so she saved him a lot of grief. She also understood his need for consistency. She was in trouble now though; he knew this. He saw it in his head. He had also seen this room before … it had been in his mind last week. That could only mean one thing—death.

  “She kept you from me, she was careful not to tell me of your … abilities, Dorian. But now I know. I want you to draw, draw anything that comes to your mind. Do you understand?” Agatha bent over and peered into Dorian’s eyes.

  He hated that, so he looked away. When people got too close he could hear, smell and see every little detail about them and it was overwhelming to his senses.

  “I will provide all you need, food, water, an unlimited supply of pencils and paper,” she pointed to the stack of #2 pencils and copy paper. Unfortunately it was the wrong brand of paper, so he would have no use for it. He almost said this much, to save her the trouble, but the words wouldn’t come out.


  “I know you like to listen to classical music, so I made sure you have your radio and all the classical music you want! You don’t have to do chores, like you did over in Mexico, where Tess dumped you. I will be a better sister, Dorian, I will take care of you much better than she ever did.”

  Inpatient and frustrated by his lack of reaction and the lack of information that the spirits could extract from him, Agatha left him, locking the door behind her.

  “Just remember,” John grabbed my arm before I started going up the steps to the house. “Those who are with us, are more than they who are with them.”

  In the car he had explained to me what had happened. He told me how Alex and Leo, got angry and came back when they weren’t supposed to. He explained to me that that was considered a haunting and that it never ends well.

  John told me about Eros’ death and that Alex had left me and come here to persuade my dad to leave, but it was too late. He also told me that I would likely never hear Alex’s voice again until my time came and I crossed over. This angered me; it seemed too unfair. What was the point in having a sixth sense if I couldn’t use it? Why give me a gift like that if I couldn’t reach those who I loved?

  Patiently he explained that gifts were given so that we could accomplish our missions on Earth. He said that I didn’t remember this, but that I had chosen and agreed to my mission and that now it was time for me to fulfill my destiny.

  “In there,” he said, “resides one of the biggest threats this generation has seen. You may not know it, but her influence over people and what she’s created will soon be out of her hands and will take on a life of its own. She may control it now, but not for long. When it gets out of control it will invade everything! It has the potential of becoming something impossible to eradicate. A secret society so evil and so entrenched in the ruling powers of the world that will expedite Armageddon.

  “Trust me, I’ve seen the end. And this … ” he pointed toward the house that held the seed to destruction, “this has to be stopped now.”