“Faster!” she screams. “Go faster.”
The bike propels even quicker through the dimly lit streets, careens around corners, and hastens through red lights. She’s grateful that at this late hour the streets are deserted.
“I’m going to die,” she says as she dares to look behind her again. But they make some ground, though the Seekers still follow, their ghostly screams sending chills up her arms.
“I won’t let that happen, Ariana. I’ve got this,” Hadeon says.
She looks back at the road. There must be at least thirty of them. The scratchy squealing is like something out of a horror movie. Ariana’s body trembles at the thought of such a horrible creature sucking her soul away.
And then her head turns light as a thought scurries in. Use the containment spell.
Of course. Ariana has a dozen spells she now knows by heart that she can use. She memorized this one after the Soul Seeker tore a chunk of flesh from Hadeon.
“That which is large, combine, grow smaller. Turn into tiny that which is much taller. Delete all the space, grow small, and grow thin. Take what is left and contain within.”
Ariana glances over her shoulder. Black cloaks flap and screams soar around her. The sensations of energy and light, of burning power, that she experiences when she casts a spell are not present.
She taps on Hadeon’s back. “What’s going on? It didn’t work.”
Hadeon’s body grows rigid against her. “Please tell me you have the book.”
“Of course. Of course I do.”
He’s silent for a second, two. “Please tell me you’re wearing the necklace.”
Ariana’s hand clutches her throat. “I took it off while I showered tonight and left it on the bathroom sink.”
“Fuck!” he yells and slams on the brakes. The motorcycle skids along the sodden asphalt, flicking out and turns 180 degrees until it slides to a stop and they are facing the Soul Seekers. Hadeon jumps off the bike.
“What are you doing?” Ariana screams, fear slicing through her veins.
“Stay on the bike,” he says.
He grabs something from his pocket, drinks it, movements lightning fast. The Soul Seekers are almost upon them, their screams like a chorus of tortured souls. Ariana’s legs tremble as her hands grip tight to the bike seat.
The Soul Seekers are only about six feet away. She wants to cover her eyes, unable to confront what will happen to Hadeon once they chomp at him with their jagged teeth. But she can’t look away, can only wait for the worst.
Hadeon lifts his palm to his lips and blows. Crackling flames, red and blue, soar from his hand in a beautiful arc of light to meet the Soul Seekers. Their cloaks catch alight, plumes of black and green smoke cloud the air, and scalding red flames engulf them.
Skin is searing, popping, and filling the air with a rancid stench of scorched, fetid flesh. Their shrill shrieks intensify. Ariana pushes her hands under her helmet to block her ears with her index fingers.
The Soul Seekers, flames flickering, spin and twirl like whirling dervishes, soar several yards into the sky, then fall to the ground, crumbling and burning until they are nothing but powdery ashes.
The next wave draws closer, and again Hadeon blows a long arc of fire, another and another until the air is thick with a humid haze. Hadeon unsheathes his sword as the surviving Soul Seekers penetrate his self-made perimeter. He swirls it through the air with practiced grace, slicing limbs and heads from torsos, black sticky blood leaking like tar from their bodies.
Ariana’s eyes lock with the vacant stare of a Soul Seeker, a devious one that has retreated into the darkness, stalking through the shadows cast by a building. Her heart hammers against her ribs.
“Oh God,” she says, voice weak. “It’s coming for me.”
Hadeon glances to where her attention is focused, but he delves back into the fight at hand. The Soul Seeker, Ariana in its sight, picks up speed. Ariana screams. She tries to draw in a breath but can’t. She peers around for a sharp instrument. Nothing.
She jumps off the bike, pulls her bag from her shoulders, and holds it with two hands at her side. As the Soul Seeker screams up to her, she swings it with all her strength and smashes at the Soul Seeker’s snarling features. It flings back but comes at her again with renewed vigor. She smacks it again and again in the head with the bag. On the third swing it stumbles back and falls onto the road.
She reaches into her bag and rummages around. But the Soul Seeker is on its feet again, screaming so loud her ears could burst. It yanks at her bag, flings it across the road, and turns back to face her with vacant, soulless eyes.
But she got what she needed, her Taser. Ariana steps forward and thrusts it at the Soul Seeker’s neck. The Seeker convulses. The Taser stops, so she surges amps at the stunned blackened form again.
Hadeon bounds toward them, jumps and springs through the air before landing behind the Seeker. With a metallic whirl, he swings the sword and slices off its head. The Seeker’s body falls to the ground, each disconnected part still squirming across the road. Ariana jumps back onto the bike, lifting her legs to her chest as the severed head wiggles toward her, teeth gnashing. But it comes to a halt a few feet away.
The shrieking has stopped. Silence. Sweet, sweet silence. Ariana’s gaze darts around. The Soul Seekers are gone. Hadeon stands amongst a sea of black coats, severed limbs, heads, and gritty ash. Each breath is labored, muscles rippling, veins raised over the surface of his skin.
From his pocket he pulls out another vial and swallows down the liquid inside. Again with his palm he blows streams of fire at the squirming body parts. He strides to the headless Soul Seeker and flings fire at it, engulfing it in flames. When in this mode of operation he’s the harsh warrior, his face brutish and hard.
Ariana rips off her helmet and throws it to the ground. She jumps off the bike and sucks deep lungfuls of air through her tight throat. Her knees find the road, and her face falls into her hands.
Hadeon touches her shoulder, then bundles her up into his arms like he would a small child and cradles her head against his chest. Her body is a shaking mass of fear.
“You did well, Ariana.”
She looks up at his face. His features have already lost some of their brutality. No words come forth. Not one. He kisses her forehead, carries her to the bike, and places her on the seat. From the road, he grabs her bag, any contents that have fallen out, her Taser from beside the Soul Seeker’s ashes, and helps her sling it onto her shoulders.
“Lucky the spell book is heavy,” he says with a small grin. “Sure did knock the fuck out of that Soul Seeker.”
Ariana peers at his face. She can’t find any humor within her trembling body. “Were you just going to let it eat me?” she asks, mouth twisted.
He grins now. “Of course not. I knew you had it under control.”
“It didn’t feel that way from my end.”
“I had my own hell going on, if you hadn’t noticed. But don’t worry,” he says, sliding a gentle finger down her cheek, “I had my eye on the situation and was but a second away. Good thinking with the Taser, by the way. Gave it one hell of a surprise.”
A small flicker of a smile touches Ariana’s lips. “Yeah, it did, didn’t it?”
“Keep that trick handy because we’re probably going to run into quite a few more back at the apartment.”
She sucks in a noisy breath. “What? We’re going back?”
“Someone left your necklace there, remember?”
“Yes, but we don’t have to go back and get it.”
He shrugs. “Sorry, but it goes hand in hand with the spell book. They can’t work here without the other.”
“Damn it,” she says under her breath.
“Yes. My sentiments exactly.”
Chapter 11
Ariana clasps Hadeon’s hand tight as they slink under the shadows cast by the tall, flanking buildings. The night is still, silent, and suffocating.
Chills claw at Aria
na’s spine. “Can’t I just wait for you somewhere?”
Hadeon’s eyes are fervent and bright as if this is what he was born to do. “You’re safer within my sights than out of them,” he says, that familiar gruff demeanor present in each word spoken.
They reach the foyer of Hadeon’s apartment building. He passes her a lighter, along with a stake, the top third wrapped in a bundle of fuel-drenched rags. This time they are prepared. It offers some sense of courage, though she’d much rather have the necklace clasped around her throat and casting the spells she’s beginning to rely on.
Hadeon treads first and presses the elevator button. It dings loud against the cold silence. He stands ready with his sword drawn as the doors slide open.
Empty.
Ariana blows out a long breath and shuffles after him into the space.
“If anything’s here, they’ll be waiting for us at the top,” he says, pushing her behind his imposing body.
Already her hands are trembling. Pressing her thumb to the lighter, trying to ignite the gas, she fumbles and it drops to the floor. She crouches and clasps it.
The elevator dings and the doors clang open. A scream punches into the space, vibrating her heart and eardrums, and she falls back onto her ass. A wall of cavernous stares and black flapping coats covering hardened skin fling toward them.
Hadeon wields his sword, slices it into a Soul Seeker’s chest, and kicks hard at another’s face as he yanks the blade back out.
“Light your torch,” he yells, circling the sword through the air and connecting it to the Soul Seekers’ necks, one after the other. Heads clunk to the floor, their teeth snapping when they see Ariana crouching down there.
More are coming, at least a half-dozen.
Twitchy fingers ignite the lighter. Ariana raises it to the rags and they explode into fiery light. Burning fuel and smoke swamps her senses. She perches onto her hands and knees, to avoid the sword ripping through the air, and lights the Soul Seekers’ cloaks from their feet. Crackling flames burn up their garments, like a spark on a stick of dynamite, and consume them. The shrieks begin; the whirling, flaming, dancing, and flying. Heat radiates against her face like sunburn. And still, she lights them up as more and more approach.
Putrid black smog rises into the air around them. The fire alarm whines, competing with the Seekers’ cries. Her heart is thumping. But she aches for that necklace even more, so they can get the hell out of here. A deep breath in for courage and Ariana shoulders through the wagging wall of black coats, her flame flying through the air. She sprints up the hall toward her bedroom.
Nearing her room, a familiar scent wafts out to meet her. She falters upon smelling it, one hand against the wall to steady herself.
It can’t be him. Surely not.
Treading slower, she nears the doorway. The stench is stronger and acts like an impenetrable wall, blocking her from going any further. But she must, she needs the necklace. And she needs to get away from here, from these Soul Seekers. Their cries needle into her ears, as well as Hadeon’s grunts and the metallic whirring of his sword. The sounds turn her stomach, but not so much as the thought of what awaits her in her room.
A quick glance down the hall back toward the chaos, and then she faces the door again. She must get this over with.
Now.
One fast step and she enters the room, her flame held out in front to ward off any possible danger. Her attention is drawn to the end of the bed where she spots a man. Ariana gasps as her suspicions are confirmed—her foster father.
He’s swaying like he always did after too many drinks. He breathes in, his deep barrel chest expanding, and blows wind at her. It reeks of him—stale beer and rancid desire. The wind gushes and extinguishes her torch, only the sizzle and smell of hot, charcoaled rags remains.
“Well now, it’s been a while,” he says in that familiar slurred drawl, his sarcastic gaze staring her down.
She shivers.
He stumbles closer. The air around him cools and extends its icy fingers until it reaches her. Ariana’s legs sag as her body grows heavy with emotions. Her stomach clenches and anxiety swells in her veins.
Oh, such old sensations.
Black gloom settles on her skin.
Her old friends, purposelessness and meaninglessness, are walking hand in hand with this monster before her.
Why do I even bother? Why do I even try? Everything is always taken from me anyway.
Ariana’s legs give way under the weight of despondency and she falls to the floor, a sinking sack of flesh and bone. Apathy pools in her lungs, so viscous she can scarcely breathe, almost drowns in it.
Footsteps pound up the hallway.
Hadeon.
But Ariana doesn’t care, nor respond. He’s better off without her. Why go to such trouble for someone like her, used and abused?
Hadeon springs over her and lunges at her foster father. “Light your torch again,” he yells, but she barely hears him through the grim clouds, so thick they choke her. “Your torch, Ariana, your torch!”
She shifts her focus to the scene and her belly stirs a fraction. Her heart beats faster. Something about this scene isn’t right. But what?
Hadeon strikes with his sword, but her foster father is too quick; he’s ducking and jumping, climbing up the walls and scattering along the ceiling above their heads like a skittish spider.
He flips and lands in front of Ariana, but Hadeon comes from the side with a flying kick to his skull, flinging the man’s head until it hits against his own shoulder and he stumbles to keep upright.
“Ariana, your torch.” Hadeon’s voice is slow to reach her ears and to make sense, as though it’s traveling through sticky goo.
Limbs heavy, she feels in her pocket for the lighter. She grabs it, lights it, and touches it to the rag torch again, setting it ablaze. Hadeon rips it from her hands, stretches to her foster father, and catches the flames to his clothes. His form alters in an instant, turning from a drunkard into a long-haired, cloaked woman with rotten, black flesh and razor teeth.
Hadeon spins his sword over his head, then slices at the woman’s chest. She grows in size—ten feet tall. She shrieks, piercing knives in Ariana’s ears. The mental haze slides away, creeping along the floor like fleeing cockroaches to join the woman as she spins, snarls, and shatters to ashes, to be swept away like a pile of household dust.
Silence zooms in to fill the room. Ariana pants, her thoughts a jumbled mass of chaos. Hadeon runs to the bathroom, grabs the necklace from the sink, and rushes back to Ariana, crouching at her side.
“I don’t understand,” she says, looking up at him with wide eyes. “That wasn’t my foster father?”
He shakes his head. “That was a female Soul Seeker.”
Ariana drags herself from the floor, a little woozy, but manages to maintain balance with a hand on Hadeon to steady herself. “What a bitch,” she says.
Hadeon laughs. “Don’t I know it?”
“Now pass me that necklace because I swear if another one of those fuckers come near me, it will be contained to within a freakin’ inch of its life.”
Again Hadeon laughs, loud and strong. “That a girl. Now let’s get out of here.”
Chapter 12
Ariana boards a private jet with Hadeon as dawn dowses the city. The sun is casting shades of coral and tangerine across the clouds.
“So, this is how we get to Fiore?” she asks, buckling herself into a large leather seat across from Hadeon.
“No. Not quite. We’ve got a stopover first.”
She arches an eyebrow. “Where?”
“Scotland. So relax for a bit, we’ve got a long trip ahead of us.”
Ariana breathes in deeply and looks into his lush brown eyes. “Right. Relax. After an ordeal like that? I can’t see that happening.”
“We’re alive and we’re safe. Face forward.”
She shudders to recall the confrontation with her ostensible foster father, how much that threw her
back to the time when she didn’t even know if living was worth it anymore—a desperate, barely existing existence.
“What happened to me back there? What did she do to me? In my mind, she was my…” She lowers her gaze and voice. “…foster father.”
“Nothing more than an illusion. She preys on the soul’s deepest fears and the darkest moments in one’s life. She can make you feel like it’s happening all over again.”
Ariana shakes her head, an attempt to toss aside the memories. “I was in so deep. I couldn’t even find the surface, let alone swim to it. I thought I was going to be lost in that dark, dark place forever. I’ve never felt so alone or so…” She swallows past her tightening throat. “…frightened.”
Her childhood was a gloomy period in her life, and now it all seems fresh and alive again.
“I should’ve killed that monster when I had the chance all those years ago,” she says, a tear escaping onto her cheek. “He doesn’t deserve a life, not after he…he…”
Hadeon leans closer and unlocks her seatbelt. He takes her hands, pulls her to him, and sits her on his lap. She nuzzles into the curve of his neck, hating that she’s crying about this when she swore she would never shed another tear over that man again.
“I’m sorry,” he says, stroking his fingers through her hair. “But I promise life will get better. We have a journey ahead of us yet, but if we get through this, your life will be everything you ever wanted it to be.”
She straightens up and looks into his eyes. “You can promise that?”
He nods. “I can and I do.”
She presses her face to his chest again. So warm, and he smells like a man should smell—musky, salty. Hadeon hardly ever lets her in like this or shows her his warm side, but when he does she melts under the intense heat of his tenderness.
The Book of Spells and Such Page 10