Eater of Souls

by Erik Lynd

  He tried to sit up. She moved forward to help him. He could see concern in her eyes and maybe a little fear. Perhaps she feared him after what she had seen.

  "What do you remember then?" He asked gently.

  She looked down as though unable to meet his eyes. "That creature had you, it... it was horrible. I could see it was hurting you. I felt like I needed to do something, but there was nothing I could do. When the thing chased you up the building, I realized that although there was nothing I could do maybe Dark Eris could. I grew angry. I was useless, and I needed Dark Eris to take over."

  She sat back in a chair staring down at her hands with a frown on her face. She was clearly frustrated. Her voice shook slightly when she spoke again.

  "I don't know what causes us to switch control most of the time, but that anger seemed to open a door somewhere inside me and let me summon her. No that's not quite right. I didn't summon her. It seems like we both are always waiting to take control of my body. Anger opened the door, and she came right in."

  She looked at him again and grabbed his hand.

  "But it was her that turned into... into, whatever it was. That was not me. I could feel my body change, twist and turn into the demon she became. I know she was doing it out of need, but it was not me, it was her."

  That was when Christopher realized she was not afraid of him, she was worried he was afraid of her. He hurried to reassure her.

  "I know it was her. It was obviously a demon, Dark Eris in the flesh," Christopher said trying to reassure her. It was hard for him to focus. Something was wrong, but he couldn't put a finger on it.

  "How are you feeling?" she asked.

  "I don't know," Christopher said and it was true. Something was missing. His body felt fine, but it was as though he was missing some vital organ. His body felt too hollow, that was the only way to describe it, although that was not quite right either. "How long have I been asleep?"

  "Through the night and most of the day, it’s about eight o'clock. You slept for almost twenty four hours."

  "Jesus, I must have really been hurt. It never takes me that long to fully heal."

  He was able to sit up, the ache was already starting to recede, but not the hollow feeling.

  "What happened after I lost consciousness? Why didn't that thing finish me off? Was it because of Dark Eris?" Christopher asked, more to himself, but Eris answered.

  "I don't think so. From what I can remember—and as I said I don’t know how reliable that is—once you were safe on the ground the monster approached like it was going to attack again. But then it looked back, up at a building. It kept trying to come after you, and then hesitating. Like it was having an argument with itself."

  "Or something up on that roof," Christopher said. "That would explain the scent I had of two dark souls. This thing and its master."

  "I can't imagine that thing having a master. I don't think that thing Dark Eris turned into would have been able to fight it. And you, well you were no..." She let it trail off as she realized what she was saying.

  "I was no match for it. All this power I’m supposed to have, and it overcame me like I was a child."

  There was a knock at the door.

  "Come in," Christopher called out, his voice sounding a little thin in his own ears.

  It was Hamlin. He was still wearing the same rumpled suit as the night before and Christopher could see the dark circles under his eyes, he must have stayed the night here. For some reason that made Christopher feel a little better.

  "Good to see you up kid. I was starting to get worried. I had no idea what we were going to tell the doctor if we had to take you to a hospital. Not sure they would go for you getting bitten by a monster while trying to whack it with your magic pocket knife."

  "Doesn't sound nearly as impressive when you say it like that," Christopher said.

  "That thing may have had your number, but you took a bad beating that no normal person could have survived. I'd call that pretty impressive." Hamlin sat down on a chair next to the bed on the opposite side from Eris, and he gave her an interesting look that Christopher would have described as suspicious. He couldn't fully blame Hamlin, he had seen more of that demonic creature she had become than Christopher had. "The question is what do we do now so that it doesn't happen again. Obviously it was a trap."

  "You think? No wonder you were made detective, with a quick mind like that," Christopher said. He meant it as a joke, but it came off pretty harsh. He sighed. "I'm sorry, Hamlin. I know it sounds funny since I just inherited these powers a few weeks ago, but I’m not used to losing fights when in full Hellfire mode. It's making me a little frustrated."

  Hamlin just nodded. "Yeah, an obvious trap and we can only assume it was set for you. The question is why? Not so much who. I guess we can assume it was one of those dark soul thingies you were supposed to be hunting down. But why would one of them set a trap?"

  "Two of them. Remember when I said I could feel two dark souls?" Christopher asked. Hamlin nodded so Christopher filled him in on his and Eris' theory that there was something controlling the beast. "I don't see why they would either. My understanding is that in general they want to hide from the Hunter, I mean me, as long as possible because I am the only thing that can send them back to Hell."

  "Well it looks like they’re changing their M. O."

  Christopher nodded. "I need to get to the Library and ask the Librarian about this. He’s our only source of information at the moment."

  "Did it look like a werewolf to either of you guys?" Eris asked suddenly.

  Christopher thought for a moment. "I suppose it was something like one from a movie. Large dog-like muzzle and claws, lots of hair, but it walked upright and had the musculature of a man, and a rather large one at that. But it looked too alien for a werewolf. I mean, its eyes were larger than any wolf I’ve seen and the teeth were much larger than any dog. And that leathery skin, not all fur. Almost like it was part lizard."

  "Not to mention werewolves aren't real," Hamlin interjected.

  "Like demons and Hell and magic people aren't real?" Eris asked.

  "Well just because you and Christopher have some unusual um... abilities doesn't mean every little myth and story is real. I mean what's next, vampires?"

  "If so, I hope they’re the sparkly kind," Eris said. "But no, I was just thinking. Dark Eris mentioned something about a hellhound. Maybe that’s what we’re dealing with?"

  Christopher sat back at that and stared at the ceiling. It made sense, as much as he didn't want to admit it. Eris' theory was just as good as any. Great, just great. More monsters, more mysteries, it was enough to give him a headache. A bigger one than he already had.

  "Well, I think we’re at a loss until we get more info," Christopher said. When no one spoke, he opened his eyes. They were staring at him, waiting.

  "What?" he asked.

  "We have no idea why they stopped attacking us…you, I mean. They, or it, or whatever could strike again at any moment. You need to go pay this library fellow a visit as soon as possible," Hamlin said.

  "Yeah, yeah I know. I’ll go there tonight." Christopher hoped they could not hear the reluctance in his voice. He was not comfortable with this power inside him, and this recent battle didn't inspire confidence.

  "I was thinking more like now," Hamlin said, and when Christopher looked at him sharply he went on. "I know you’re reluctant to use this power, and I think I can understand why. Hell, I've seen enough in the last few weeks to make most men shit their pants, I can only imagine what you’re going through. But I don't think we have much time. I don't know why they tested you, but it was obvious they could have killed all of us. I don't think they’ll wait long to strike again and when they do, I doubt they’ll hold back."

  Christopher looked long at Hamlin and then nodded. This was why he needed Hamlin, no matter what power he had, he needed a friend to be a rock and keep him centered.

  "You're right, there’s no time to waste. Where’s
the Book?" Christopher said. Suddenly, he had a moment of panic as he looked around for the Book and Weapon. He had been knocked unconscious. Had Eris or Hamlin picked them up?

  He didn't need to worry. Eris opened the drawer on his night stand, both Book and Blade were there. He smiled his thanks to Eris and picked up the Book. He looked one last time at the others. Hamlin nodded encouragement at him.

  Then Eris did a strange thing. She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, near the corner of his mouth. "We’ll be right here when you get back," she said, and for a moment, Christopher was sure she was blushing. Then her eyes turned dark.

  "What are you waiting for, stud?" Dark Eris said with an all too toothy smile. "Don't worry, you have demon-girl here to watch over you."

  Christopher swallowed hard and opened the book.

  SURE TOOK YOU LONG ENOUGH, was written on the inside. Even as he read the words, they began to blur and everything faded to black.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Anabelle hated the basement. She didn't mind the dark, in fact, she preferred it. Night was the most sensual time of the day, and the darkness it brought created mysteries and hid that which you wanted hidden. Yes, the dark was for lovers and killers, and that is what made her love it so. The dark was a place for love and death, though she did not have much care for love. It was only the poor cousin to lust and obsession. And in those she was an expert.

  It was the dirt, the musky scents of earth and concrete beneath her home that she disliked. The basement was large with a stone floor. The house above had been rebuilt and remodeled a number of times in the last two hundred years, but the basement had always remained, virtually untouched. The old stone walls held the smell of years mixed with the ancient odor of dirt long undisturbed.

  The area of the basement near the stairs had been modernized to some extent. Modern water heater, electrical and plumbing, things of that nature. But just beyond the water heater and the old rusting coal storage bin was a nondescript door. It led to the true basement, in some ways the heart of the home.

  Many had died there. Not even she knew all of them, since this home existed long before she had risen from Hell. When she opened the door to this area she could smell the old blood, the old terror. Dark stains still marked the stones on the ground where blood had been spilled and not fully cleaned. She could feel the remnants of those that had died here, hiding just beyond the corner of her vision. Trapped in this place. They had it easy she thought.

  She had suffered a long torment in that place of desolation and depravity; but in her escape, she had acquired amazing gifts. She could control most men’s hearts, give and take huge amounts of damage and pain and survive, perhaps forever. Yes, in Hell she had suffered, but here, with the gifts she had stolen from the infernal realm, she could rule. And of all those gifts, knowledge was fast becoming the most valuable.

  For example, the young girl chained in the corner. Whimpering so sweetly. To most she was a runaway, a throwaway. She did not even know what she was. But Anabelle could see she was a witch, and a rare kind at that. She was a soul shaper. And she belonged to Anabelle.

  Anabelle walked over to her now. She was dirty, her clothes filthy and stinking. Dirt and maybe a little blood smudged her skin. She had brown hair that hung in tangles down her face to about the middle of her chest. She had told Anabelle she was fifteen when they met, but her real age was probably closer to thirteen, or maybe fourteen. An iron collar was in place around her neck and from that a short chain extended to the wall. Overkill, of course, she was harmless, but it was all Anabelle had to restrain her.

  She had said her name was Grace when Anabelle had found her, back when she thought Anabelle wanted to help her get off the streets. Now she knew, however, Anabelle was not one to offer help. She took what she needed.

  "Girl, I have a use for your talents," she said.

  When the girl didn't look up, Anabelle grabbed her chin roughly and forced the girl to look her in the eyes. In the girl’s eyes she saw only fear. Good.

  "We have an unexpected gift that I need your help with," she said. Then to the darkness across the large cellar she said, "Come here, Ammit. You have something I need."

  After a moment she could see the hulking figure of Ammit making his way out of the shadows. The girl screamed and tried to pull herself deeper into the wall. Anabelle chuckled and grasped the chain. She unlocked the end attached to the wall and pulled the girl towards the large wooden table in the center of the room.

  "No! Please, no," the girl screamed. She pulled at the chain trying to break free, but Anabelle held it easily. Once she had determined that the girl’s power was virtually dormant and the child had no idea of what she could accomplish with it, Anabelle knew she could control her, shape her just as the girl could shape souls, to do what she commanded.

  "Hush! Quiet, girl," Anabelle said harshly and pulled on the chain, bringing the girl to heel as she would a mongrel. "You are perfectly safe. Ammit will not harm you as long as you serve me."

  "Why have you brought me here mistress? Do you wish me to consume the girl?" asked Ammit. His growling like voice only made the girl struggle more.

  "No. You have something for me, I believe?"

  He tilted his head slightly as though confused in a very dog like gesture. Perhaps it would have been cute if it wasn't coming from a nine-foot tall, demonic wolf monster. "I have nothing," he said.

  "Nonsense. I need the part of the Hunter's soul that you consumed," she said.

  He looked surprised, or at least she thought he did, it was hard to tell on that grotesque face. "I do not understand?"

  "You are part hellhound. Your job is to consume souls, it’s what gives you strength, but you do not destroy what you consume. You simply store it. A soul cannot be destroyed so easily. On the plains of Hell, the hounds retrieved those that would seek escape. Your kind once roamed the mortal realm also as hounds for the Hunter, but that was forbidden long ago, I was told. You have the part of that boy's soul in you. And I, as the master of you, demand that you release it."

  She said the last as a command. Ammit's eyes got wide and both of his massive clawed hands slammed down on the table, shaking it and making it creak. His stomach heaved and his mouth opened obscenely as though his jaw had become unhinged. Vomit spewed out onto the table, and the blood and flesh of his recent feasts fell in chunks out of his mouth.

  The girl screamed again and danced back so that none of the reeking vomit would touch her. She pulled away but Anabelle just yanked her forward, while stepping back herself to avoid the fluids as they spilled on the ground. This was new to her also, and she hadn't quite known what to expect, but certainly not this mess.

  Then, just as his heaving was about to be done, a ball of fleshy meat fell out. It was almost perfectly round and shimmered from the inside as though a strong candle burned on the inside.

  "Quickly girl," Anabelle said and pulled a small crystal vial from her pocket. It was an old fashioned perfume vial. She hoped it would work. It was the only crystal she could find on such short notice. "Take the soul shard and get it into the vial."

  The girl looked at her like she was crazy. Anabelle slapped her once across the face, hard enough to draw blood. The girl would have collapsed if the chain had not held her up.

  "Listen bitch, dig into that ball of flesh. The soul will come to you, it is your gift. You will know how to shape it into the vial. It is in your blood."

  The sobbing girl stared at the pulsating meat and looked as though she was going to throw up also. But she didn't move. Anabelle grabbed the back of her head and forced it towards the reeking tabletop.

  The girl tentatively reached out with her fingers only to hesitate as they got close to it.

  "Get on with it girl," Anabelle commanded.

  The girl poked at it a couple of times until Anabelle hissed through her teeth. Then the girl took a deep breath and with bony hands started to peel it like some sort of flesh fruit.

  Anabelle watched.
She had heard of what a soul shaper could do, but she had never witnessed it. To anybody but a soul shaper, and a hellhound of course, the soul would be insubstantial and uncontrollable. To free it from the hound would send it slowly drifting back to its owner, or if the owner was dead it would simply fade and pass to the afterlife, either heaven or Hell. A soul shaper could control a soul, at least to some extent, and capture it in an appropriate container, hence the crystal vial.

  Soul shapers can do more of course, much more. But this girl was just a beginner, it would take time for her to learn. For now, Anabelle could use the girl to get the soul shard into the container.

  Ammit had slunk back to the shadows. The violence of his vomiting had obviously shaken him. This did not surprise Anabelle. He was, after all, only part-hellhound. The other part, the dark soul part, was still confused. And that was the way she liked it.

  The girl dug into the flesh knot with both hands, pulling back the layers until the aura of the soul was visible. She let out a little gasp, and her eyes lit up for the first time.

  "Quickly now, get it into the vial."

  It was already starting to drift away from the table. The girl glanced at Anabelle and then gently reached out and cupped it in her hands. Then, intuitively, she rubbed her hands gently around it, as though making the world’s most fragile snowball.

  For five minutes Anabelle watched her, and the girl’s eyes never left the soul. She worked on it like an artist lost in painting a masterpiece. Slowly, she reached out and picked up the vial with one hand while holding the soul shard in place with the other. Then, as though it was finding its way home, the shard of the Hunter's soul slid into the vial.

  The girl held the vial as though it was the most fascinating thing in the world, her eyes wide with surprise or fear, perhaps a little of both. Anabelle knew this was a first for her, the girl had never known the talents she possessed. Anabelle would keep her, train her, and she would serve them well.