Tattered Souls (Broken Souls Book 1)

by Richard Hein

  “I could cast out demons?”

  I could hear the curiosity burning in her voice, the calculation ticking away behind the words.

  “Uh, tiny ones. Maybe. If you knew how,” Daniel said. “Theoretically you could cast back anything with a large enough fulcrum, but in practice there’s a limit to what an unaided human can exorcise. We have a limited amount of willpower to draw on. No amount of wishful thinking could have a single person throwing Cthulhu back home, if it was summoned. If the Entity was wounded, you might be able to force it back. Powerful ones pose an interesting problem. The archives are full of ideas on how to approach a high-level possession and—”

  “Bullshit,” I snarled. My hands weren’t just trembling, they were quaking like Mount St. Helens before it blew its damn top clean off. “Even if you get all the Whos in Whoville singing at once, it means dick. Sometimes there’s no escape and the only way to end the possession is to end the vessel.”

  Kate and Daniel regarded me in silence. I shook, each breath a tremor through my body as my body fought to regain control of the rage. My mouth tasted like used batteries.

  I blew out a hissing breath and crossed the room, looking for anything to give my mind focus. Most of the room had a decent layer of dust. A few books here and there had the telltale sign of movement recently, the shelves dusted clear by the spine. I checked a few of them to see if anything looked interesting. Books of spells. Yearbooks that might have Kate in them. Nothing so lucky, though. I worked my way from shelf to shelf, looking for anything amiss.

  Where would I hide something in here? All sorts of books and papers adorned the walls, so I wasn’t sure Kate’s brother would want to hide something, but a man in the grip of a paranoia might start thinking about secreting things away. Just in case. I’d seen it before. A hollowed out book? My feet took me around the room at a languid pace as I battered my feelings back into their box. No, too easy. The journals would be noticed and rifled through by anyone visiting the room. We were on the second floor, so I didn’t quite imagine Ben carving a hidden compartment beneath the flooring. The walls, then?

  My fingers paused on a book. Why was I thinking about this in such a mundane manner? I pushed out my senses, letting the aura of the place wash over me once more. It felt slimy, like an oily film scintillating across the surface of a puddle. Cold whispered against the back of my neck, like a ghost’s breath rolling against me. I pressed my eyes closed against the tainted sensation.

  Wait a second, I thought, crouching down. There. I could almost hear it, like a dull struck bell, the feel of magic whispering in the air. A couple fingerprints marred the dust on the bottom shelf. There was a couple of inches of space beneath. My heart quickened. Could the prints have been from Ben as he’d steadied himself and pushed something beneath? I slipped a hand beneath and felt around.

  Something cold touched my finger.

  “Here we go,” I said. Everyone turned as I drew a spiderweb-dusted knife from beneath the shelves. Finally. Something substantial, something real to touch and move forward with.

  The knife from the journal. It looked ancient, made of hammered bronze, the blade pitted and discolored from age. The cross guard was almost non-existent, with no leather wrapping the hilt, though a secondary piece of brighter, more silvery metal had been fastened over it and pounded flat. The bottom was curved and notched. Most importantly, the blade was indeed etched by those same angled letters.

  “So, the alphabet isn’t just something that Ben came up with,” Daniel said, meeting my eyes. It had weight, both physical and a feeling of otherness. I wasn’t Indiana Jones, but if it was bronze, it was damn old.

  “If it is as old as it looks, yeah,” I said, passing it to Daniel. He hefted it for a second and offered it to Kate. “Whoever was visiting Ben certainly had—”

  I cut off as someone knocked with a heavy fist on the front door downstairs. All three of our heads swiveled toward the doorway that led back into the house.

  “Uh, demons?” Daniel asked, one hand dropping to his baton.

  I snorted. “Since when do demons knock?”

  The knock came again, louder and far more insistent. We filed out, myself in the lead for some inexplicable reason. The stairs creaked underfoot as we shuffled down to the great entry hall. I pressed up to the heavy wood door and stuck an eye up to the peephole.

  Nothing.

  Frowning, I unlocked the door and cracked it open a hair, peering outside.

  Swim Trunks and Band Shirt hunkered in the entry alcove, shoulders stooped, heads gliding back and forth as they took great snuffling breaths like they had the world’s worst cold.

  “Get Kate out of here” I snarled, and snapped my hand back, violating a dozen rules as I tore Daniel’s collapsible baton free of his nylon holster before he could even blink. I hurled the door open wide and flung myself out the opening. I snapped the baton to full length as the creatures opened their jaws wider than should have been possible and bellowed at me with that dinosaur roar.

  I was going to end this today.

  Chapter 7

  It occurred to me a heartbeat later that, even with a weapon in hand, throwing myself toward invulnerable enemies that were faster, stronger and could break the laws of physics was a bad decision. I didn’t care right then. Relaxing the grip on my anger, I found a welcome friend waiting. I embraced it.

  These entities, these things… It was time to send them home.

  I whipped my arm around in a backhand, and felt the impact all the way up to my shoulder as the baton connected with Band Shirt’s jaw. Purple light flared at the touch, and its head snapped back, black fuzz dusting the air. A rush of vindictive satisfaction flushed through me at the sight, at the feeling of magically-enhanced steel striking its invulnerable shell. I tumbled through the air, landed on my shoulder, and rolled down a few stone steps. It hurt, but the pain was cushioned by the pleasure of doing something tangible to the damnable things.

  Of course, I’d just pissed it off. The baton wasn’t going to send an entity home with a single touch. The magic laid atop of it let me deal damage as if the creatures were part of our universe, and subject to our laws of reality.

  It was a symbolic victory, and I loved it.

  The downside was that I’d been in such a rush to attack I’d thrown myself right past the creatures. Now the guy with the weapon that could damage them was nowhere near Kate. I rolled to my feet and whipped the baton out behind me, ready for a second strike. Both swiveled on me and hunkered, arms lunging out to the side like I was about to receive the world’s most awkward hug. They roared, and I swear my jacket flapped out behind me.

  If I could down one of them, I could probably exorcise the other. Of course, that would require physical touch, some time to establish a connection, during which the entity would be free to burrow into my stomach and sample the sludge called coffee I’d had for breakfast. With their backs to Kate, and the only sure weapon currently in my hand, I made the clear tactical choice left open to me.

  I decided to run.

  My eyes met Daniel’s, hoping he’d get the message as I turned and sprinted down the wide stone steps toward the street.

  My shoes slapped stone in the overcast fog. I held my breath, waiting for the signs that would tell me they’d given chase. I wasn’t disappointed. Go me. I heard the sound of growling behind me. The only problem was they were far faster than I was. I had a small handful of steps before I’d have a demon punching through my spine to use me like a puppet. I strained to listen and get a sense for how close the thing was. My car was another twenty yards ahead of me, just past the end of the hill and across the sidewalk, but there was no way I’d make it another two steps. I braced myself and threw my body back to the ground once more, rolling onto my back and whipping the baton up for protection.

  The thing was inhumanly fast. Swim Trunks hurtled through the space I’d just occupied like a fired bullet, blurring over me as impossibly powerful legs launched it into a tackle. M
y swing skipped across it as the creature swept into a sinister arc over me.

  I heard the tortured groan of metal as the demonic bullet slammed into my Nissan with the force of a speeding semi, rocking it over onto two wheels. I lay there on the steps, the world upside down as I watched my car die. The driver’s side door exploded inward as the creature tore into my vehicle. The little sedan bounced back down, sending a shower of glass tinkling out into the street and sidewalk. Swim Trunks thrashed about, bending the roof and setting the horn blaring as it struggled to right itself.

  “God damn it,” I shouted, slamming a fist down onto the stairs. “This is karma for hitting you with it, isn’t it?”

  I struggled to my feet, aware that only one entity chased me. I could hear Swim Trunks still thrashing in my car, and I knew there was going to be no getting that smell out of the fabric. I spun in a slow circle, baton at the ready, heart thundering.

  My fingers tightened on the baton as my eyes tried to look everywhere. Where was the other one? They’d split up on me, showing an uncanny level of tactics. These weren’t the Blue Light Special of creatures I’d been assuming, and I had to switch up my assessment fast or wind up as a stain in a very expensive lawn. I found myself grinning, though. My heart ached with the two scoops of adrenaline, but it felt good to be out here.

  “Come on,” I shouted, twirling the baton. “It’s time for your steel enema, asshole.”

  I saw Band Shirt arc up into the overcast sky, launching from Ben’s roof and sweeping through the air. My jaw slacked. Its arms whipped up, and it slammed down on top of Mrs. MacIntyre’s roof with perfect grace, a leap of over a hundred feet. Thrift-store sandals barely had time to find purchase before it was sailing through the air at me. My feet scrambled on the steps, almost spilling me to the ground once more, but Band Shirt thundered down a pace before me with a detonation of stone.

  My feint worked. I lunged forward, slapping at the creature with the enchanted baton. I’m not Babe Ruth, but the strokes connected with a meaty thwack that drew a throaty snarl out of the thing. I hoped that was pain and not annoyance. Across and back swing, followed by a sidestep to keep moving.

  “Eye of the tiger, baby,” I shouted. I bobbed and ducked and weaved, swirling that collapsible baton around like a kid with a sparkler on the Fourth of July, never keeping my pattern the same.

  I’d forgotten the first rule of dealing with these sorts of things: never go toe to toe with monsters that can bench-press cars. It gave a negligent swipe of its wrist, my arm went numb, and the baton tumbled into the grass. I gasped in pain as I jumped down two long steps to avoid a grasping hand, backing into a trellis. I shook my tingling fingers and hoped I’d still be able to use a mouse at my next job.

  “That’s my Solitaire hand, damn it,” I wheezed.

  I needed to think. I could still hear the other one thrashing about, crammed into the tiny interior of my car. If I had long enough to work up a conduit with Band Shirt here, I might be able to throw him out of the universe. I was rather rusty, though, and it was like we’d told Kate — once the beasties get to a certain otherworldly power, the contest of wills goes in their favor and I wind up on the dollar menu.

  Still, what choice did I have?

  It lunged forward, arms sweeping at me to grapple. I made to do the same. Steeling myself for the unpleasantness that was sure to come, we hurtled together in some horrible eighties wrestling farce when it reared back and screamed. The beast turned, arms grasping behind it, and I saw it was wounded. Blackness fuzzed outward like static from an old UHF channel, dusting from a ragged hole just above one hip.

  I blinked.

  Kate raked the sigil-inscribed knife forward again as Daniel tried in vain to haul her away by her left arm. The bronze blade scored a long gash along the abdomen of the thing, marring its weathered band t-shirt. More of that same black fuzz swirled away.

  “What did you do to my brother?” she screamed, lunging against Daniel’s attempts to drag her back. The tip of the blade slipped just shy of tasting sweet demon flesh once more. She snarled and whipped her hand back and forth, even as the demon turned on her.

  “Damn it, Kate,” I yelled. “Daniel, what the hell are you doing out here?”

  “Saving your ass, Samuel,” Kate said. She snapped forward, breaking Daniel’s grip and plunged the knife straight into Band Shirt’s heart with a cry of frustration and triumph. Kate stood there panting, naked contempt etched on her face.

  If they only had a heart, I thought in a jaunty little tune.

  “Uh, they’re just constructed shells, Kate,” Daniel said. The thing lunged forward, but Daniel’s hand twirled, the recovered baton beating a sharp staccato against both its arms and the side of its head between the thumps of my heart. He stepped in rather than away, slipping under one outstretched arm with a smooth pivot and driving the weapon hard against the kneecap of the wounded monster right as it stepped down. It went down in a heap, snarling and thrashing. “One spot is as good as another.”

  “What the hell were you thinking?” I stepped past the collapsed creature, paused long enough to yank free the bronze blade. “Hold that thought,” I said to Kate, unhooked one of the canisters from Daniel’s belt and stuffed a thumb through the pin. Purple smoke swirled as I lobbed it into my beloved car. Swim Trunks squealed like a herd of pigs in a wood chipper. It wasn’t like my car could get any worse at that point. “Where were we? Right. What the hell were you thinking?” I said, pulling Kate a couple of steps back up toward the house to get her clear while Daniel did his work. Okay, maybe I should have let him do the heavy lifting. He was beating that thing with a certain level of style that made me look neanderthal in comparison. A needle of annoyance stabbed my chest. I was sure I’d have been able to exorcise it and then sent Swim Trunks home, but Daniel had to…

  She crossed her arms and the thought faltered. “The words you’re looking for are thank and you. That order is probably best.”

  I stared at her. She was crazy. That was the only explanation. Certified to be fitted with her very own hug-yourself straight-jacket. I wanted to shout, to scream something at her, but… she had a point, even if she’d risked herself and everything we were doing to accomplish it. Maybe I’d have exorcised a demon. Maybe it would have pulled my head off. Who knew.

  “Okay, not that I’m admitting you were right,” I said, holding up a finger. “Because I’m not, but I might grudgingly say that perhaps—”

  “Good enough,” she said. Something angry and feral slumbered in those words. Were they directed at me? I couldn’t help but sneak a glance back at her brother’s house, the eruption point that started her life in a different path. Was she dealing with things under the surface that were bubbling up as well, and I was just a convenient target? Well, I understood that at least.

  “Can you two quit arguing long enough to let me finish this so we can leave?” Daniel said, more than a little petulant. Up went his arm, purple light flickering along the length of his weapon.

  Screaming metal brought all our heads up.

  “Samuel?” Daniel said, voice weary.

  “Yeah.”

  “It seems those things aren’t as weak as you led us to believe. It should be asleep.”

  “Life likes to kick you in the junk with a steel-toed boot like that,” I said. “Adapt."

  Swim Trunks wrenched off the rear driver’s side door, twisting and ripping it free as it punched back out onto the sidewalk. It took a step forward, dragging the door along the sidewalk, paint coloring the stone.

  “Oh come on,” I groaned. “You’ve already killed my poor car. That’s just plain mean.”

  The creature twitched one arm, hurling the mangled hunk of metal and glass with uncanny precision through the trellis.

  Right at Kate.

  I twisted, positive my reaction was too slow, trying to throw myself at Kate and tackle her to the ground. Something hit me hard. I gasped as the wind was knocked out of me, and pain erupted in my back
as I slammed down on the edge of those expensive steps I’d admired earlier. Something heavy pressed against me, wedging me to the ground, collapsing my chest. God, I couldn’t breathe.

  “That’s two you owe me,” Kate breathed, her lips just inches from my ear. She slipped her glasses up her nose with a cute little grin. “Try to keep up.” She’d tackled me to the ground, even though the door had been intended for her. I could see it, a shapeless mass of metal and plastic half buried in the unkempt grass and amid a pile of rubble from the little wall between the two houses. A poor garden gnome lay decapitated nearby. I swallowed. If that had hit either of us…

  “I’m saving them up,” I said as she rose and offered me a hand. I took it feeling a tad foolish, and for spite I plucked the knife out of her hand. That belonged with the somewhat professionals.

  “Samuel!” My head snapped up, meeting Daniel’s eyes as we both felt something yanking at reality, reworking it and pounding it like a vindictive kid with Play-Doh that had gotten tired of his creation. I could feel the effects of it just beneath my flesh, the crawling march of a thousand insects, making the urge to scrape away at my skin with a razor to clear them out maddening. It hammered at my mind. My soul. Even Kate sucked in a sharp breath and took an unconscious step back, hands pressing to her chest.

  Magic. Actual soul-flaying magic.

  The door to Ben’s house evaporated. It rippled, like a heat mirage over a road, and then swirled away on an unseen breeze. Paint peeled off the walls around it, curling away into black smoke. The world around the entrance warped and bent, like seen through a carnival mirror, skewing the proportions of Ben’s front step. The light fled, as if afraid of what lay within, darkening the entryway. Ozone tainted the air.

  A figure slid forward from the opening. Its long face was angular, like it had been crafted and not grown, with numerous sets of red glowing orbs high on either side for eyes. Long twitching appendages trailed off like hair, chitinous and articulated like a spider of nightmares fused with its head. Its robe was simple and dirty gray. It shuffled forward with a smooth gait, on dozens of tiny crawling feet that were just visible beneath.