Parasite Soul

by Jags, Chris

  Then Simon, she remembered, as though his name had been shouted across the plains of her mind.

  Heart in mouth, she turned back into the prison and ran for the stairs.

  EPILOGUE

  Simon awoke next to someone. No, that wasn’t right: whoever he was with, certainly a stranger, wasn’t next to him, not physically. More like he woke with someone inside him. He could feel a presence, squirming and swirling in his subconscious, a patch of darkness studying him, probing at his thoughts.

  Whatever had invaded him – the heartstopper? – Simon thrust it to the back of his compromised mind as he stared about the small, dark chamber he found himself in. It looked like a crypt; and not one of the nice ones that a nobleman might find himself at rest within, but a dank, roughly hewn pit edged with stone slabs and dripping with moisture. Skulls, both real and carved, were set into the walls. He lay on a slab, and to his left and right were other slabs, four in total. Only one of these was occupied by a coffin.

  But I’m not dead! Simon thought anxiously. He sat up. Was he trapped in here? Sealed in? Would anyone hear him if he called for help? His voice emerged as the faintest of dry croaks. He took a breath to bellow for assistance, to no effect. He was able to suck in air, and it technically filled his lungs briefly before escaping as a soft sigh, but he wasn’t breathing. Fumbling for his wrist, he felt it. No pulse.

  Good Lord Vanyon. I’m dead!

  The darkness in his mind uncoiled, probing tendrils searching his dismayed brain.

  Not dead. Not exactly.

  Who are you?

  You’ll be getting to know me well. Relax. Stop trying to react as a human does. That’s behind you. You’re not even scared; your mind is just telling you that you should be.

  I’m not human anymore? Simon should have felt devastated, but he knew the voice was right: whomever he once had been, he was no longer that person. Fear and dismay was no longer an appropriate reaction.

  Not entirely.

  Are you the sword?

  A soft chuckle. No.

  It occurred to Simon that he shouldn’t even be able to see in the pitch darkness. He frowned around, testing eyes which were certainly more than human. Everything glowed, faintly green.

  I understand, he told his passenger. I know what you are. But how…?

  In answer, a shaft of light spilled into the chamber as a door ground open. A familiar figure stood there, slim and detached, head cocked.

  “Oh good,” said Sasha tonelessly. “You’re awake.”

  “But how...?” Simon repeated aloud.

  “Check your arm,” Sasha suggested. “No, the right one.”

  Simon stared at an extensive, bafflingly complex pattern carved into his dead flesh. Vines intertwined with spiral patterns, fringed with what looked like the teeth of some giant carnivore. He wasn’t sure what he was looking at, but as the work had been done with a knife, he was sure it should have hurt. Instead, he felt it tingle slightly, distantly, as though from across a void.

  “Necromantic tattoos,” he said at length.

  “I told you I’d show you my work one day.”

  “And who am I sharing my body with?” Simon thought he should care a lot more, but increasingly found that he didn’t. With his initial fears having subsided, his feelings were as muted and remote as his physical pain.

  “There was only one vampire soul on the scene, and I had to work fast,” Sasha said apologetically. “Princess Tiera’s brother Merequio, if you remember the man in the mask.”

  Simon wanted to shudder but found that his new consciousness was unperturbed. “The man who was going to kill Niu.” He searched his subdued feelings. Did he still love Niu? He discovered that he did not, but that he felt some manner of detached affection for her. The yearning was blessedly gone. “Is she alright?”

  “She is fine.”

  “And you thought I would want to share a soul with the creature which was trying to kill her.”

  If Sasha cocked her head any further, her neck would break. “Don’t be rude. You are he now, and he you.”

  “Will I have to kill people to survive?”

  The bruxa didn’t attempt to sugarcoat the truth. “Yes.”

  Simon thought about that. He knew he ought to feel repulsed, horrified. He didn’t. The vampire in him was hungry, and he shared its thirst.

  “But you can control yourself,” he mused. “You pick and choose. You’re not a mindless killer.”

  “Not most days,” Sasha agreed.

  The door opened again and Niu slipped in. She wore her travelling cloak over a traditional Cannevish blouse and skirt which were both too big for her lithe frame. Taking immediate stock of Simon’s wakefulness, her first words were nonetheless to Sasha. “How is he?”

  “I’m fine,” he said.

  “They’re fine,” Sasha echoed.

  “Good.” Genuine relief mingled with apprehension in Niu’s voice. “We were certain we had lost you.” She came closer. The vampire within Simon coiled with hunger, but he fought it back. Reluctantly. Whereas before Niu had simply been beautiful, she now looked equally scrumptious, a choice cut of rare steak. That complicated things, but if Sasha could restrain herself from killing her friends, so too could Simon.

  “I’m glad you survived,” he said truthfully, as the vampire rumbled in discontent.

  Niu smiled awkwardly. “How do you feel?”

  “Hungry,” Simon admitted. Niu’s eyes lit with alarm, and she glanced at Sasha.

  “It’s normal,” the bruxa said. “We’ll have to find someone to feed him.”

  “Won’t animals do?” Niu asked nervously.

  The vampire within recoiled in disgust.

  “We’re not savages,” Sasha admonished, brow slightly furrowed. “That day I was forced to eat chickens was one of the worst of my life. No. My mother is upstairs. She’ll do for a first meal, I think.”

  “We’re in Vanyon’s Parade, then?” Simon asked.

  Sasha nodded. “I was able to bind your souls together temporarily, but not to complete the necromantic transference. Mother is the only person I know who can do that.”

  “And she just agreed to help? After sending hunters to kill you?”

  Sasha smiled slightly. “Oh, she agreed. I was out in the world long enough to learn a thing or two about the extent of her abilities. I suppose I didn’t fully believe that she wasn’t pulling my strings until she was forced to send hunters after me. She couldn’t just unmake me herself, as she’d always threatened. If she was able, that’s exactly what she would have done. She has no power over me. And I am very persuasive.”

  “Good for you.” Simon echoed the smile. It felt strange, like something humans did.

  “I’ll bring her down momentarily. You’ll have to excuse the fact that she’s already a bit of a mess. She might not be as filling as you’d hope, not anymore.” Sasha disappeared out the doorway.

  Niu looked deeply uncomfortable at being left alone with the two of Simon, but she made a valiant attempt at conversation.

  “Well,” she said, too-brightly. “It must be a relief to be alive.”

  “I suppose.” Simon searched his feelings, what little remained of them. “I would have never known otherwise if you and Sasha hadn’t brought me back, so I can’t say.”

  Niu looked troubled. “That is still you, though, is it not, Simon? I know you are sharing a body, but…”

  Whatever he was, he had access the memories of the youth known as Simon Dragonslayer, so he supposed he must be. “It’s still me.”

  Niu traced one finger delicately along the slimy stonework. She looked hesitant, even pained. Simon waited, and at length she unburdened herself.

  “While you were dead,” she asked, “Did you… did you walk in the halls of your Afterworld, as you expected? Did you meet your god?”

  There was a tremor in her voice. She wasn’t mocking him. For all her belief in a practical, logical world, she truly wanted to know. Simon understood: she
desperately wanted Cihau to be alive, somewhere.

  “I’m sorry,” Simon said, and he was. “There was nothing. Not even consciousness.”

  Her smile was unconvincing. “Of course not. It is as I told you. A silly legend.” Her eyes were very bright.

  “Silly,” Simon agreed softly.

  “Well, then. What are your plans now? Will you still take me home to Jynn?”

  Simon wasn’t sure how she wanted him to answer.

  “Of course,” he said.

  She cleared her throat uncomfortably. “I could find my own way.”

  “No, no,” Simon said. “I told you I’d take you home and I will.” There was no longer any longing in his soul for Niu, neither for her affection nor her approval, but he’d said it, and he had no other plans. And he was fond of her. Even death hadn’t taken that from him.

  Niu couldn’t have failed to notice the change in his demeanor. A strange look of desolation crossed her face that Simon wasn’t certain how to interpret. Had her affections for him evolved, too late? Was she just sorry for him? Simon wasn’t sure that the new, dead him possessed the humanity to differentiate, so he changed the subject.

  “The princess?” he asked.

  “Dead.”

  “Good,” said Simon, but he could no longer feel any depth of hatred for the woman who had killed him. “She said her father was dead, too. Cannevish is going to fall into chaos.”

  Niu nodded. “The kingdom is leaderless. The nobles are squabbling for control. There is talk of Tiera’s betrothed, Prince Stannix, claiming Cannevish for Quell. This is not going down well with the people of Cannevish. Verivista and other neighboring kingdoms are certainly looking at this kingdom with hungry eyes. War seems inevitable. Civil war, invasion. It will not be a good time to be in Cannevish.”

  “Good thing we’re leaving, then,” Simon said. Vampire-him, he discovered, didn’t concern himself much with petty political strife or the national borders bickered over by tribes of men. Let the humans mindlessly slaughter one another over invisible boundaries. The chaos would allow vampire-him to hunt in peace. Another thought struck him. “And the sword?”

  Niu looked shifty. “Sasha asked her mother about it. And when I say ‘asked’…” She trailed away, looking a little ill.

  Simon nodded impatiently. Tortured, yes. Not my problem.

  “The blade was infected by an ancient, spectral parasite, just as the leshy told us. It might have latched itself onto any object. It happened to choose a sword. Touching the sword allowed it to take up residence in your mind. It fed on the life force of those whose hearts you stopped. When you died, however, it fled your body. You are no longer infected.”

  “Tiera was infected, too.”

  “Yes.” Niu began to circle the crypt in a jerky manner which he dimly recalled suggested agitation. “It can possess multiple victims.”

  “What happened to it?”

  Niu chuckled bitterly. “Someone accidentally touched it while she was checking Princess Tiera for signs of life.”

  “’Someone?’ Who?” Simon said blankly. Then, “Oh.”

  “I wasn’t expecting the princess to be carrying it.”

  “Naturally.” Simon didn’t know what to say. He knew this development was truly devastating for Niu, but he no longer understood how to feel more than the shadow of sympathy.

  Silence reigned for a long moment. Niu glanced repeatedly at the door to the crypt, as though she longed to flee. Simon made no move to stop her. He was weak and needed to feed. After Sasha returned with his meal, he would have the strength to absorb everything that had happened.

  “Quite a team we could make,” Niu said at length.

  Simon thought about that. He, Sasha, and a woman who could kill with her feelings. Was there a force in this kingdom or any other who could challenge them? A smile flickered about his lips.

  This will be fun, the vampire within crowed. Wild, bloody fun!

  “It could be great,” he admitted.

  Niu returned the smile uncertainly. “To Jynn, then?”

  Simon sank back on his elbows and thought about a life free of the burden of deep emotion; better yet, a life where it would take a small army to bring down the triple threat of himself, Sasha, and Niu.

  “To wherever we damn well please,” he said.

  THE END

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  Cover design by James, GoOnWrite.com