Soul Bonded, #1

by Lori Titus

  “I could ask you the same,” Henry replied, stirring his coffee.

  Victor put his glass down and adjusted his tie, as if it were suddenly too tight or the room too warm. “Is there some reason that you’re playing naïve now? I don’t see why you feel the need to bring this up. You’re staying, and so am I, that’s all there is to it. We’ve never had any illusions about that have we? This firm provides you a good life, just as it does me.”

  Henry sat back. He smiled and shook his head. He expected this exact reaction; he found Victor’s predictability amusing.

  “You’ll call me when things are taken care of with Taylor, yes?” Victor said. He reached into this pocket and pulled out a stack of bills. He tossed a few on the table.

  “I will,” Henry replied wearily.

  He watched as Victor walked away. Henry knew he shouldn’t find any joy in his old friend’s discomfort. It was petty and beneath him, but he enjoyed it anyway.

  Chapter Seven

  Natasha Taylor

  “Ma’am, I don’t understand. If the bank isn’t approving my loan, then what did you call me in here for? Couldn’t we have done this over the phone, or better yet, email?”

  I knew there was an edge to my voice but I couldn’t help it. Several people were staring at me, probably wondering if the crazy black lady was going to need to be escorted out of the bank. From the corner of my eye, I saw the security guard shift uncomfortably. I just wish your ass would, grandpa, I thought.

  After my previous humiliating visit, the last place I wanted to be was sitting in the same hard chair I sat in when they told me I might as well try my odds in Las Vegas, if I thought they were going to give me a loan.

  The loan officer was the same owlish woman with the black-rimmed glasses I’d spoken with nearly a week before. She steepled her fingers and made a tiny sigh, as if it were taking all of her patience to deal with me.

  “After reviewing your file, Ms. Taylor, you were just short of a few qualifications that the bank put into effect recently. We’ve adopted some new and very stringent rules.”

  “You’re saying if I had applied, what, a few months or a year ago I would have been approved?”

  There was a long blink, and I realized that was this woman’s way of agreeing with me. I was biting back all the deeply unprofessional things I wanted to say as she continued.

  “Since you are such a valued customer... really your entire family is,” she said with a smile. “I wanted to look for some other options you could use to obtain your loan. We don’t do this for everyone but well, I sincerely felt that in your case it was more than worth it.”

  What was this? One last chance? My heart caught in my throat.

  She reached into her desk and handed me a business card. I didn’t even look at it, but I did pick it up and hold it tight in my hand.

  “You must understand,” the loan officer continued. “We really loathe giving away potential business, but well, there are times when it’s really the best thing to do for our customer. I encourage you to reach out to this company, as they have successfully assisted many of our customers in the past.”

  “Ramshead and Pollard?” I said, finally looking at the card. “Is this a sub-prime lender?”

  “No, not at all,” the woman said with a frown.

  Well, perish the thought. I knew I didn’t really have much choice—even if they had outrageous rates my back was officially against the wall. I did find her reaction hilarious, as if suggesting they’d send desperate clients to a subprime lender was the most awful thing I could say.

  “They’re very helpful, and I do believe they can assist you. They’ve helped everyone I have sent to them. Ask for Mr. Pollard.”

  We exchanged pleasantries, and I left.

  I wasn’t feeling too sure about Ramshead and Pollard. The recommendation could have been a distraction to make me go away, but then what would the use have been of calling me in? In the end, I was too curious not to find out what this was about.

  Christopher Stuckey

  When I woke, I was at home.

  I was lying on my couch, still wearing the suit and tie I had on for my appointment. I sat up, wondering how the hell I got back when I had just been on the roof of Ramshead’s office...

  It all came back then. Rushing up the stairs, the moment when I reached the top. The receptionist, standing there in her high heels and red flowered dress. The moment I heard Ramshead’s voice on her phone saying one word—“jump”—before she turned away from me and dived into nothingness.

  I sat up slowly. My stomach and chest ached the way it did after a good hard punch. Was this what it was like to feel your soul ripped out? I don’t know if I had expected to feel worse, or if I was still in a state of denial about what happened. I knew Ramshead had done something to me, even if it wasn’t what he claimed. My body felt different. Like all the pieces of me were somehow more loosely connected and I might start coming apart at any time.

  Ethan was sitting across from me.

  “Did you bring me home?” I asked.

  “You were here when I came,” he said. “Key under your doormat, remember?”

  I did. I ran my hand through my hair. “Why the hell did you send me to that crazy man?” I demanded. “Do you know what Ramshead is?”

  “Of course,” he said calmly. “The question is do you understand? I mean really? Because he’ll keep giving you demonstrations otherwise. People will die because of your stupidity.”

  “Maybe people will die because he’s evil,” I shot back.

  Ethan shook his head. “If that’s how you want to look at it sure. He’s not lying to you about what he can do. He’s cured you but now there are prices to pay. You get out of line, you suffer the consequences. Or worse, he finds someone to punish because you haven’t done what you were supposed to.”

  “You work for him?” I asked. I knew the answer, but I needed to hear it from him. “He told a woman to jump to her death, and she did it. What else can he do?”

  “I’m indebted like you are,” he replied gravely. “And you don’t want to know what else he can do. If you can imagine it, he can pull it off and that’s not an exaggeration.”

  “Is this how you got clean? All that shit you’ve been telling me about will power and working the Steps...

  Ethan interrupted me. “There’s worse things than seeking out people for him to clean up. You’ll see that once you have been through this a while.”

  “Alright, so you got me on board, you did what you were supposed to,” I sneered. “Why are you here now?”

  “Someone had to make sure you woke up,” Ethan said. “They don’t always come back when he takes a part of the soul. Or worse, they wake up, and they’re just not right anymore. All kinds of shit can go wrong. Sometimes they don’t live through the night. Bet he didn’t tell you that part. It doesn’t happen often, but it’s a consideration whenever he does this. Also, he wanted me to bring home the point to you: you’re in this now, and there’s no turning back.”

  Natasha Taylor

  “Miss Taylor, I’m glad you were able to come see me today. It’s lovely to meet you.”

  Natasha hadn’t known what to expect. She thought it odd that Henry Pollard asked to meet with her in a café rather than at his office. He’d made an offhand comment about it being more pleasant to meet outside of a stuffy atmosphere.

  He was an elegant older man, probably around the same age as her grandfather. The streaks of silver in his mostly black hair shone in the sunlight. His blue eyes were wide and inquisitive. He broke into a smile as he took her hand and shook it. This brought out the thin lines around his eyes and mouth. When he was young, Natasha thought, he was probably a heartbreaker; the kind of beautiful man who would make women and men alike swoon.

  Pollard said, “Have a seat and we’ll get started.”

  “Where do I begin?” Natasha asked. The strangeness of this meeting was beginning to bother her. The good thing was that they were in a
highly public place. If he said anything she didn’t like, all she had to do was get up and walk away. Maybe he suggested this place because he knew she would be ambivalent.

  “Well I am aware that you need a loan,” he replied softly. “Start with telling me about your business, and we’ll move on to other things you need.”

  “Other things?” Natasha frowned.

  “Yes. As employers, we expect to provide many things for ourselves and our families, our employees, and their dependents. It’s a huge and almost sacred pact, the relationship between employer and employee, when you really think about it. Though a loan may be about saving your bottom line, in a greater sense, it’s about continuing to provide for all those who depend upon you.”

  They chatted while eating coffee and dessert. He asked her gently probing questions, making her feel more at ease. She opened up to Pollard about what she needed and why. She talked to him about how the bookstore was a family business and she needed to carry on. Her desire to grow her store, hire more people, eventually bring Ronnie on as a full partner empowered to handle things when she was gone.

  “And what about your mother?” he asked. “Where does she fit into the plan?”

  Natasha paused. She had to remind herself that he didn’t know about her family and she had not commented about her mom before, other than to say she had helped start the store. It seemed odd for him to suddenly ask about her.

  “Oh, she’s retired and too ill to have anything to do with the store at this point. My biggest concern is making sure she’s cared for at home—at least for as long as possible.” That final admission made her shiver. She’d heard horror stories of abuse and neglect and didn’t trust anyone to take care of her mom the way she would. But, though there was no way to tell how fast it would happen, her Alzheimer’s would progress. At some point she’d have to put her mom in a home.

  “What if that didn’t have to be the case?” Pollard asked.

  “I suppose if we’re talking about dreams,” Natasha said carefully. “That would be wonderful. I know better than to think that could just happen, unless you’re about to suggest some kind of new therapy I have never heard of. Seems like a lot to get from a loan company.”

  “Call me Henry,” he smiled. “You’d probably be surprised. For the right price, with the correct collateral there is really nothing you can’t get.”

  Natasha shook her head. “Look, I only gave this a try because the bank referred you and even that felt like a stretch. If this is going to be something unlawful or involving something I didn’t ask for then let’s just stop this meeting right now and save us both the time and effort.”

  She reached for her bag, and just as she did, Henry put a hand over hers.

  “Natasha, I have something of great value to offer you. I think it will be worthwhile for you to listen.”

  His grip on her was firm. She didn’t understand the pleading look in his eyes. She felt panic, like she should get up and run, but she didn’t move.

  “There is a price to be paid, but I believe you’re a smart enough woman to sort out the pros and cons.”

  She sat back in her chair, purse in her lap, just in case she needed to follow her first thought and run away from this man.

  “What are you talking about? What’s this offer?”

  Henry removed his hand from hers and sat back, apparently satisfied with her answer.

  “You are a young woman who understands things about this world that others don’t. You learned early on about mysticism, that more exists than can be seen by the eye, or through the lens of... what we’ll call an ordinary person’s understanding. I believe that you were given an abrupt and rather nasty reminder of that recently. The Nethers outside of your house. I do apologize for that.”

  “You sent them?”

  “My partner did,” Henry replied quietly. “He likes to flex his muscles so to speak. I told him that for you, fear is not an appropriate motivator. Unfortunately, it’s the way he’s used to doing things. We know about you and your family. Your father was an exorcist, and he stopped when he thought you were becoming too fascinated with demonology. Despite what your family said through the years, you know it’s true. What better reason to stop than to insure the safety of his daughter?”

  Natasha didn’t answer right away. She could argue that exorcism wasn’t exactly something one did as a daily job anyway, but that would be missing the entire point. It was her dad’s fear for her safety that made him cut back on cases until he eventually stopped. No one had been happier about him stopping than her mother. “How do you know this?”

  He nodded. “There are ways we cull information, but that’s not important right now. What is important is what my partner is ready to offer you. You have unique skills, and we’re quite willing to pay you a handsome amount of money for them.”

  “I don’t understand,” Natasha snapped. “Are you offering me a job?”

  “Yes, but that’s not all. What if I told you we could take care of the worst problems in your life right now? Your business could be on solid ground with money in the bank to spare, which you could do with as you wish. Your mother’s ailment, healed. Can you even imagine all the ways it would improve your life if she were healthy? Do you even remember what that was like, or have you played caregiver so long you’ve become used to the status quo?”

  “It’s my choice,” Natasha lifted her chin. “No one is making me do it.”

  “You’re not listening. I understand loyalty to one’s family. I’m not questioning why you take care of her. What I am saying is there’s a way she could be healed.”

  Natasha clenched her fist. She wanted to tell him this was foolishness, but she knew better. She knew dark magic could accomplish such things but always with grave results. She would be completely willing to turn away and never think of this conversation again if it were only about money. She owed it to her mother to listen to this insane proposition before she got up and pretended the whole incident never happened.

  “There’s only a couple of ways to get that kind of a promise, from a demon,” Natasha said. “And the main one would be to sell my soul.”

  “One could give part of their soul,” Henry said quietly. “And work for a specific amount of time to earn it back.”

  “Excuse me for saying, but that sounds like the biggest con on Earth,” Natasha said. “With demons there is always a catch. I’m sure for a promise that big, there’s a supersized curse that comes with it.”

  “Indeed,” Henry batted his eyes at her. “The curse comes into play if you don’t hold up your end of the deal.”

  “To give you my soul, or part of it, you claim, in return for everything I want. And then I have to work for you as well.”

  “Not normal work,” he replied coolly. “We need someone who understands magic, who can decipher spells. Someone good at seeking out true mystics and others who might be interested in becoming freelancers for us.”

  “For you and your friend the demon?”

  “For Ramshead and Pollard. We’re looking to add a partner too, but that’s another matter,” he said.

  Natasha shook her head. “I can’t...”

  “Let me suggest this to you then,” he said. “A forty-eight hour trial period.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Forty-eight hours where you get to enjoy the benefits of our agreement. A healthy mother. A sizeable amount of money deposited into a secure account. All the perks you would enjoy if you did agree to work with us.”

  “What happens after two days?”

  Henry shrugged. “Things return to how they have been. Or, you decide to accede to our wishes and you continue to enjoy the comforts we can afford you—”

  “Accede to your wishes? No, you mean bow to your demands,” Natasha said. “At least don’t patronize me while you’re trying to snare me into some bullshit.”

  “I assure you it’s not just that,” Henry replied. “It sounds like you need a little time to deal with all this. So
, forty-eight hours it is.”

  He took a business card from his wallet and pushed it across the table to her. “I assure you this is all quite serious.”

  “Why do you want me?” she asked. “What is it about my soul that you’d be willing to go through all this trouble for?”

  “I know you have singular talent,” Henry replied. “Other than that, I do believe there is some additional reason. I don’t know what it is. You’d have to ask my business partner, Mr. Ramshead. I’d warn you, he’s not likely to just tell you why.”

  “Of course. Neither of you would make it that easy. That would be too much; you’re only asking for my soul.”

  “It’s not about easy, it’s about getting what you want,” Henry straightened his tie. “Whenever you deal with Mr. Ramshead, always understand that anything you ask is a negotiation, a something for something. It’s the way he works.”

  “You call him your partner, but are you in debt to him?”

  Henry made a sound somewhere between a gasp and a laugh. Natasha heard the sarcasm in it.

  “Our entanglement,” Henry said. “Has spanned many years, more than you would guess, and has never been that simple or clear cut. I suppose you could say I work for him, in the same way a piece of machinery works for the person who controls it. Yet, he calls me his partner. For his purposes, and for the matter of my continued presence in his sphere, that’s what I am. Good day, Miss Taylor. I hope to hear from you again very soon.”

  Christopher Stuckey

  The pain in my chest subsided, but I couldn’t sleep. Long after Ethan left, I stared at the ceiling. Occasionally I heard the muted sound of cars passing on the street beyond my bedroom window. It was strange feeling so clear, so awake. It had been too long since I’d been sober. This state of clarity was just what I had been attempting to escape.

  I wasn’t even sure I could sleep like a normal person without drinking.

  I did try. I got up around one in the morning and downed a half pint of scotch. It didn’t make me drunk or even the least bit tipsy. About a half hour later I was in the bathroom throwing it up.