I narrowed my eyes at this creature, and if I stared directly at its chest, I could make out a rainbow of little lights. They twinkled like Christmas lights. Were those little things actual souls?
To my surprise, Manuel tilted his head to the side as if opening up his neck for a snack.
Oh hell no! My Manuel.
I slipped between the two just as Sin Eater Dominion Guy came close. He had his right hand out with a knife—ready to slit Manuel's throat—
Until his outstretched hand hit my incorporeal body. He snarled, hissed, and jumped back to the front of the still bodies of the clubgoers. His face was a mask of rage and surprise, and his entire eye was red now. Not just the iris. He looked like he'd been drinking.
That guy's voice called out even louder now. And the lights in whitey's chest twinkled brighter. My ears buzzed.
"What is this?" Oh, and it had such a lovely singing voice. All gravely and kinda Harvey Fierstein-ish.
The thing had practically growled. I narrowed my eyes at it, but stood my ground. I hadn't felt anything from the contact, but then I was incorporeal. "What the hell are you supposed to be? Looks like the white rabbit bit Neo."
He tilted his head to the side. Yeah…pop-culture reference totally a waste on this one. "You're not anything I've seen before. But," and his voice returned to the pleasant singsong he'd used before. "No matter. My work here must continue." And he flicked his wrist at me.
A big-ass white sword came out of that wrist, and he attempted to skewer me. I shot up and flipped back to stand on top of the bar behind Manuel. With a slight flick of my own wrist, I summoned my sword. Of course mine was black with a bright red flame to it. I was pretty sure I could change that look—I just had to figure out where the preferences were in this new Human-to-Wraith step.
"You're…you're not one of the Abominations. But you have the feel of one."
Abominations? "You mean one of the First Born?"
"Do not call them that. They are not the first. The Seraphim was."
"Wow…you're one of those crazy kinds of followers."
He dove at me. I shoved Manuel out of the way—and he tipped over. Didn't even bother to catch himself. But he was out of the line of fire as I jumped down and blocked the first attack. Whitey feigned and then came at me from the side. I managed to bring the sword down to block, but he slid his away, twisted, and got a really good hit in on my upper arm.
The pain was like…
"Motherfuckinggoddamnitwhoowthatfuckinghurt!"
Yeah. I said that.
Stepped back and looked down at my skin. I had a huge slice through the upper arm, and it wasn't healing. In fact, it looked like it was bleeding black blood.
Black blood? What the hell?
"I smite you, the wicked. I sense in you the worst kind of Abomination. You are Irin, but one tainted by the Abysmal essence. It is your soul I shall free this night." And with that, he came hacking and slashing at me again.
Oh no you di'n't just call me an Abomination. I'd already been through all that with some other crazies, and I was not about to go through it again. I was born an Irin, but turned into a Wraith. I'd been a Phantasm potential, and I'd been master of the universe.
And I was not taking that kind of crap from some two-bit, white-assed, bishi-looking Ethereal murderer. I countered every move, even though I was slowly getting pushed farther away from Manuel. Morgan was screaming in my head to kill it—but how did I do that? He landed another hit—and I landed my first—just as I rounded with my sword and dipped down before I came up. The move evaded his parry, and my sword came up into his side. I pulled and yanked away, the blade slicing into the flesh, then moving.
It looked like it hurt.
He screamed and went down on one knee, doubled over with his sword on the floor. I thought about using my scream to get rid of him—but then it'd also affect everyone in the direct area. I dismissed my sword, and with a glance over at Manuel, knelt beside the Dominion.
"You have something I want. And I plan on taking it back." When Maureen had started using the old destruction ritual against the Revenants, it'd left the body dying, and the souls trapped inside. I'd actually reached inside and released those souls.
It was what I'd planned on doing again.
The creature looked confused, and I realized it had no idea what I was or what I was capable of. So when he pushed himself up on his knees, I rammed both of my hands inside his chest.
The bodies I'd done this to before had been cold. And that cold had traveled up through my body. But this time, it was different. It was hot. In fact, it was almost scalding as I slipped in. The buzzing I'd noticed in the back of my head turned into voices as they rushed forward at me.
There were thousands of them…
Dear god…so many souls. Had this thing devoured them all?
And as they passed by me and vanished, I felt a fire burning in my chest. It was just uncomfortable at first, but pretty soon it became a searing pain, and I yelled out.
Let go! It's an Ethereal Being Zoë! You're Abysmal—you're going to kill each other!
Wait—wasn't killing it the whole plan? Or had I missed something?
The pain became more than I could stand, and as the souls ripped past me, I started grabbing them and devouring them. First one, and then two, and soon I was past twenty—but the pain subsided as even more were released. Soon I'd be eating them as fast as they could run.
And what frightened me most, was that I didn't care.
I felt…powerful.
I felt—
"Zoë!"
There was a painful crack in my right side. I pulled my right hand free in reaction to it and then lost the connection with the Dominion. I collapsed on the floor. I felt myself returning to just me, sans Wraith and felt the cold, hard concrete under me.
But the pain in my side—
"Call an ambulance."
"Did that freak stab her?"
"Hey, Manuel—you got a phone?"
I heard the voices, but they were pretty much nothing compared to the increasing pain in my side. Oh god…had that thing stabbed me with its sword as I was sucking the souls out?
"I'm gonna take her myself, okay? You guys call the cops on that guy."
I felt Manuel's warm hands on me as he slipped an arm under my back and then one under my knees. I leaned into him and heard his heart beating. "What—"
"Ssshhh…" he said. "We'll be at my place in a few. I'm sure Azrael will meet us there."
"But what about…"
"He's the way he should be. You did…" but he didn't complete the sentence.
I felt my eyes flittering as the darkness on the edges of my vision crowded in toward the center.
"I saw them, Manuel. I saw them."
He still didn't answer.
•••
I woke up next to headless Mary. Again.
Alone.
I tried to take in a deep breath and hissed instead. My chest hurt when I did that.
"You took a good stab in the ribs," TC's voice said to my left. "Luckily, he moved the blade between the them."
Stab?
I turned my head to look at him.
He looked like he used to. Black trench, black shades, riding gloves. He was seated beside my old bed, and I could hear Jemmy downstairs laughing. "Who…"
"Manuel. It was the only way he knew how to stop you from killing anymore souls."
The room tilted to one side. His words triggered a pleasant memory that echoed in the back of my thoughts. A memory of a thousand souls lined up to give themselves to me.
"I—I started killing them."
"Yes. But it was justified from my point of view. Zacharel was a Dominion. Which meant Ethereal. You're more Abysmal now, so when you slipped inside his corporeal form, his Ethereal essence tried to destroy your Abysmal. While you freed many of the souls he'd eaten—you did have to start consuming them in order to survive his Ethereal attacks."
"I…" I sa
t up and then grabbed my side. But I was looking at TC. "How many did I take? Azreal…how many?"
"I don't know," he looked a little surprised at me asking. "Maybe close to fifty. If that many. I think the bastard had close to a thousand in side of him."
I sat in muted, shocked anger. I…had devoured fifty souls?
"So…many…"
"Zoë," TC put a hand on my shoulder. All I could feel was leather. "You didn't have a choice. Of all the creatures of either plane, the Dominion is your equal."
"What?" I looked at him, and he removed his shades. I looked into his eyes. "My equal."
"If there was an Ethereal counterpart to you, it would be the Dominions. Not that an Irin was tainted by Ethereal essence, but in their eating of souls. It's very similar to a Wraith. But where you devour, the Dominions hold the souls in limbo until they're either given over to Ethereal essence or Abysmal."
I only heard about a third of what he said. The rest of it just bounced around in my head. I put a hand to my side. "Manuel stabbed me."
"Yeah, but don't hold it against him. He did the only thing he knew to stop you."
"And the Dominion?"
TC laughed as he stood up. "The Society has him. He's not going anywhere for a while. And I hope they enjoy poking at him. I need to get back to the job. But it was good seeing you, Zoë."
Before I could ask him the question that was heaviest on my mind, he vanished.
I sat in the bed for a long time, bent over, remembering what I could about the experience. I somehow felt worse now than I had before I started. If he'd wanted to get my mind off of Dags—it worked. But somehow I felt it was better to feel sorry for myself for losing a lover…not lives.
"Zoë," Manuel said.
I looked at the door. He stood there, dressed in jeans and a peacoat with a white hoodie. I looked back at my hands. "I'm not mad, Manuel. You did what you had to."
"I think I know that. But still…." He came in and stood at the foot of my bed. "I feel awful. I was useless, you know. There was nothing I could do. I couldn't—I couldn't even stop it from attacking me."
"As a Revenant, your power is diminished. That was a full-on Dominion, wasn't it?"
"Yea but—"
"Don't feel bad."
We sat in silence for a while before he took in a deep breath. "Zoë—I know what you want to ask."
Good. I'd been sitting there trying to come up with the best way to ask it. "And?"
"The answer is—I don't know. No one does. Once a soul is free or devoured, no one can track what happens to it. We have to do it all on faith."
Faith.
Not sure I had any of that anymore.
But in the end, maybe that's okay. The uselessness of the whole thing.
The not knowing…if the soul of Strauss was freed…or devoured.
By me.
About the Author…
National Bestselling author Phaedra Weldon is a writer and mother of one. Phaedra was raised in the lush, green southern tropic of Georgia and grew up on southern ghost stories told while eating marshmallows around campfires, or on the back of pick-up trucks in the middle of cornfields on chilly October nights. She worked as a Graphic Artist for over twenty years in the publishing and sign industries until she became a full time writer in 2009. Phaedra currently lives in Atlanta, Georgia with her husband and daughter.
This work and everything in it is the sole property of Phaedra M. Weldon. Any copying or reprinting will be prosecuted to the furthest extent of the law.
Tales Of The Abysmal Plane (Zoë Martinique Short Stories) (The Zoë Martinique Investigation Series) Page 23