Vampire Soul Box Set

by Mac Flynn

  Bad move.

  Alston stood in the doorway. He was bombarded with the undead fish as they flew at his face. The terrorized man grabbed at his face and stumbled backwards out of our view. Half the fish flew after him while the others remained around their crates.

  I covered my mouth to stifle my laugh and glanced at Roland. His lips were pursed together.

  "What's wrong?" I asked him.

  "I had hoped-" His hope was interrupted when Alston made his appearance in the doorway. In his hands was an old-looking book opened to the middle.

  Alston raised one hand and mouthed words I couldn't hear.

  "What's he-"

  "Quiet," Roland hissed.

  Alston wiggled his fingers and the fish dropped to the floor like a rain of sardines. He snapped the book closed and glared at the mess of dead fish. The man's eyes narrowed and he whipped his head to the basement windows. I yelped when Roland flew past me and grabbed me on the way by. He flew us to the car and tossed me into the passenger seat beside his soul box. Roland took the wheel.

  "What are you-" I glanced past him at the alley. A dark shadow exploded through the windows and slammed against the opposite building. It flew up like a wave and crashed down with the front aimed straight for us. "Roland!"

  He started the car and slammed on the gas. The car jumped forward and the wave of darkness missed the rear taillights by an inch. I looked behind us as we flew down the road and watched the wave retreat back into the alley.

  "What the hell was that?" I asked him.

  "The same shadow we witnessed behind Alston. The Devil's work," he told me.

  "What got that thing's knickers in a twist?" I wondered.

  "We saw too much," he revealed.

  "Too much of what? He wiggled his fingers and dropped the cold fish cold," I recounted.

  "We watched Alston destroy the curse on the fish," he explained.

  I wedged the square box out of my side and put it on my lap. "All right, so we watched him lift a curse of the Devil. What does. . .that. . .have-" My eyes rolled down to the box in my lap. I pointed at it and glanced at Roland. "Is this-"

  "A curse of the Devil? Yes," he affirmed.

  "So if we can-"

  "Find the curse and speak the words over the box then my soul may be set free," he finished.

  I slid around so I sat sideways in my seat. "Then why'd we leave that office? Alston's got the curse," I pointed out.

  "Alston would never release the curse to us, but perhaps there was another he released it to," he told me.

  "Like who? Who else would need-" I snapped my fingers and pointed one at Roland. "The person who he sold the fish to! He'd want a de-curse in case the crates got opened!"

  Roland smiled and bowed his head. "Precisely." He frowned. "Unfortunately, I can't fathom about whom he was speaking."

  I slipped down in my seat and furrowed my brow. "They had a grudge against Ralph for damages for an attack last year. An attack last year. . ." My eyes widened. "Flat-Nosed Finnegan!"

  "I beg your pardon?" Roland asked me.

  "Flat-Nosed Finnegan was beaten up by Ralph last year for trying to purchase services from me that I wasn't selling," I explained. "He was in the hospital for weeks, and the judge ruled the attack was justified!"

  "Is there any way we can find this disfigured man?" Roland wondered.

  I pulled out my phone and dialed a number. "I've got a source who might know." The phone rang a few times before a voice answered.

  "What?" Ralph growled.

  "Ralph, you have any idea where Flat-Nosed Finnegan might live or work?" I asked him.

  I could just imagine his eyes getting thin. "What the hell do ya care about him?" he returned.

  "If I tell you your diner is fish-free will you tell me where he lives?" I persisted.

  "It is?" he yelled.

  I winced. "Yes, now you owe me big for the exorcism. Where's Flat-Nosed Finnegan live?"

  "Is that all ya want?"

  "Yes, now where?" I demanded.

  "Well, the hate mail he keeps sending me comes from an address at the end of Ray Road," he told me.

  "Thanks, Ralph, and good luck cleaning up the diner. I won't be in tonight," I added.

  "What? After having last night practically off ya better get yer tail in-"

  "Bye!" I hung up the phone and pointed at an oncoming street. "Turn here and step on the gas. Finnegan lives just out of town a couple of miles."

  "The disfigured man didn't bother to hide his location?" Roland wondered.

  "His brain's probably a little jarred loose. Ralph beat him up pretty bad with Beater," I replied. "I just hope it wasn't jarred loose enough that he doesn't have that de-curse for the fish."

  Roland pursed his lips and pressed harder on the gas. "We shall see."

  We drove through town and out into the country. The scenic lawns and painted houses were replaced with scenic weed patches and houses that were last painted twenty years ago. The usual lawn ornaments were rusty cars and goats tied to stakes as sacrifices to the five-foot tall weeds. The houses became few and far between as the street lights were exchanged for the starlit sky. The smooth road was replaced with a giant pothole that was a narrow, broken mess of deep ditches and soft shoulders.

  I heard a crunch of wheels behind us and glanced over my shoulder. A dark shape came up on our rear and sidled up beside us on the narrow country road. The vehicle came nose-to-nose with ours before it suddenly swerved towards us.

  Roland yanked the wheel over and gave us a few inches between their car and ours. My back hit my car door and I had a good look at the black car beside us courtesy of our headlights. The black sedan car. With two shadowy figures in the seats.

  "Those guys again?" I growled.

  "You're acquainted with them?" Roland asked me.

  I sheepishly grinned. "Did I forget to mention them?"

  "Completely."

  "They tried to use their shadowy-Devil powers take your soul box earlier today. Now I think they're after your life."

  "Un-life," he corrected me.

  Their car swerved towards us and Roland slammed his foot on the gas. We sped forward and were scuffed in the rear.

  "I wish we could un-convince them to harm us," I quipped.

  "I may have a solution. You said they were of the Devil's making?" he asked me.

  "Yeah, they had black shadow stuff inside of them. Why?" I returned.

  "Do you have a light?" Roland inquired.

  I flinched when the black car sidled up to the car and sparks flew against Roland's window. There went a hundred bucks for a paint job.

  "Now is not the time for a cigarette," I scolded him.

  "This is rather important," he insisted.

  I jerked my head to the dashboard in front of me. "In the glove compartment."

  "Then take the wheel," he ordered me.

  He leg go and the car swerved. I leapt across the seats and grabbed the wheel before we didn't need any help from the demonic duo to put us into the ditch.

  "Are you trying to get me killed?" I yelled at him.

  "No," was his answer as he traded seats with me and popped open the glove compartment.

  Gloves, licenses, old candy, and a mummified mouse spilled onto the floor. The guys in the other car sped past us and swerved in back of our car. They rammed our rear and shoved us forward. Our front tires skidded and we almost made the acquaintance of some lovely weeds in the deep ditch.

  "Whatever you're planning you'd better do it fast. My car's about to learn how to fly into a ditch," I warned him.

  "This won't take long," he assured me. He pulled out a packet of matches and rolled down his window. "I merely need to punch their tires."

  "Don't you mean puncture?" I suggested.

  "No."

  Roland pulled himself out the window and climbed atop my car. He released his hold on my car and I watched his shadowy form sail back until he hovered over the black sedan. Roland flew to the driver's sid
e of the sedan and I heard a loud pop as one of the tires was punctured. The car swerved from side of side. There was another pop, and the demon guys lost complete control. Their car flipped and did a couple of impressive fox-like barrel rolls into the ditch to my right. It rolled to a stop in the weed patch beyond the ditch. I stopped the car twenty feet beyond them and glanced in my rear view mirror.

  I saw a glisten of a lighted match as Roland lit it and tossed the match onto the belly of the overturned vehicle. The gas tank caught fire and the car exploded in a brilliant flash of red flames. I jumped out of my car and watched the vehicle burn. Roland walked up to me and half-turned to face the carnage.

  "They will not be bothering us any longer," he commented.

  My mouth dropped open and I waved my hand at the car. "Yeah, but did you really have to turn them into roasted marshmallows?"

  "Yes. From what you told me they were spawns of the Devil and only fire purifies his creations," he explained.

  I dropped my arm and frowned. "So we're not going to be tried for murder?"

  "Only in a court of the Devil's making," he assured me. "But we must be going. The Devil must suspect where we are headed and sent them to try to cut us off. That assures us this Finnegan has the spell to break curses."

  Roland moved towards the car, but one of his legs faltered and he collapsed to the ground. He caught himself on his hands, but bent over like he needed to worship the porcelain goddess.

  "Roland!" I yelled.

  I sprang forward and grabbed his arm. The light from the fire let me see the sweat the rolled down his pale forehead. His mouth was set in a thin line and he bit his lower lip so hard that blood dribbled down his chin.

  "You're not okay, are you?" I asked him.

  "Each time I use my strength I die a little more," he informed me.

  "Then lean on me and let's get hobbling to Flat-Nose for your instant cure," I told him.

  CHAPTER 8

  I hauled Roland into my car and, like Jesus, took the wheel. Roland sat beside me with his soul box clutched in his shaking hands. Sweat glistened on his face as he labored to breath.

  "You'd better stay with me," I warned him.

  He managed a small smile. "I have no plans on leaving you."

  "Then you'd better not surprise me with a permanent vacation," I insisted.

  Finnegan's house wasn't too far down the road. The headlights on my car caught the low, shabby house fifty yards in front of us. The house sat at the end of Ray Road, so there was a wide spot in the road for a turnaround. I aimed the car for a nice parking spot in front of the house, but a sudden earthquake changed my plans. A crack formed in the ground ten feet in front of us and a wall of flame burst from the ground and shot twenty feet into the air.

  I spun the wheel to avoid us being swallowed in the flames. The car fish-tailed and slid to a stop with the passenger side aimed even with the wall of fire and one foot from the crack. The flames were sucked back into the crack and everything was as it was before.

  Well, except for the creepy man in black who stood on the other side of the crack and fifteen feet from us. He wore a black suit with matching shoes, and in one hand was a black cane. The man wore his black hair long and tied behind him in a tail. One look at him made my heart beat like an eighties rock band on drugs. A little redundant, but you get the point. Every part of me down to my soul knew this guy was trouble. Especially my soul.

  The man faced the ground, but he raised his eyes and smiled at Roland and me. His teeth were as white as his suit was black, and his eyes glowed red like the coals of his domain.

  "Good evening," he greeted us.

  Roland turned to me and shoved his soul box into my hands. At that moment the red mist was winning over the blue mist and the emblem on the side of the box glowed bright-red.

  "Hold this and stay in the car," he ordered me.

  "Oh hell no. I know trouble when I see it, and that man's trouble," I argued.

  "He is not a man, and that's why you must remain in here," he insisted.

  My eyes widened as Roland confirmed what I feared. "Then that's-"

  "Roland, Misty, I would rather not wait all night to speak with you both," the Devil called to us.

  "You must stay in here," Roland repeated.

  "And let you face the Devil alone? Hell no. We're both going," I told him. I tried to open my door, but Roland grabbed my hand and clasped it in both of his. I turned to him and he caught my eyes.

  "Misty, so long as you hold my soul nothing will happen to me," he told me.

  "But-"

  "Nothing will happen to me so long as you hold my soul," he insisted. "You are my protection. My cross. The Devil has no power to take my soul so long as you hold it."

  "But what's going to keep him from me?" I pointed out.

  Roland leaned towards me and cupped one of my cheeks in his cool, clammy hand. He studied my face and smiled. "Love will find a way," he whispered.

  "Come, come, don't be shy," the Devil called to us.

  Roland pulled away and slipped out before I could catch a hold of his sleeve.

  "Roland!" I yelled as he walked away from the car and towards the Devil. "Roland, get back here!" He kept walking.

  "Oh, hell no is this going to happen now," I muttered as I kicked open my door and jumped out.

  Roland paused and turned back to me as I ran up to him. "Go back to the-"

  Another earthquake hit the area. I heard a groan and glanced back in time to see the ground beneath my car lift up. My car was raised twenty feet into the air. The vehicle was now too high to drive and too low to fly.

  A low chuckle came from the man in black, and we returned our attention to him. His red eyes glanced between us and his smile widened.

  "I wish to speak to both of you," the Devil informed us.

  Roland stepped in front of me and held out his arm. "Your business is only with me," he protested.

  The Devil shook his head. "On he contrary. The lovely young woman is quite involved."

  "Speaking of involved, I thought you were supposed to butt out of the business of mortals," I spoke up.

  He gave a slow nod to the box in my hands. "That soul concerns me, and with you as the keeper you also concern me."

  "Then you'd better get concerned because I'm not handing it over," I told him.

  The Devil clucked his tongue. "You don't know what you two are asking me to do."

  "I won't allow you to hurt her," Roland insisted.

  The Devil's red eyes turned to Roland. "I don't want to hurt either of you, but especially you, Roland. You're like a son to me," he commented.

  I snorted. "Then he must be adopted."

  The Devil dropped his hand onto the top of his cane and smiled. "All my children are adopted, but they all return to me sooner or later. Sooner has come to Roland."

  He raised his cane and tapped it against the ground. The soul box in my hand leapt into the air. I gripped its lid and was dragged towards the Devil.

  "Misty!" Roland yelled.

  Roland jumped towards me, but the Devil tapped his cane against the ground. Roland let out a cry and fell face-first onto the ground. The soul box stopped its flight two feet from the Devil and floated six feet off the ground so I was face-level with the black man himself.

  I looked over my shoulder at Roland and watched him raise himself onto his arms. He clutched his chest and grimaced in pain.

  "You're one of mine, Roland, and I have enough power over you to keep you from interfering," the Devil warned him.

  "But I'm not," I snapped. My fingers slipped on the box, but I readjusted my hold.

  The Devil turned his attention to me and frowned. "You were a minor bit of entertainment for me, but now you are quite the nuisance. Release your hold on the box and I can allow you to live."

  "Go fish yourself," I quipped.

  His eyes narrowed and he poked my stomach with the bottom of his cane. Smoke rose up from my shirt and a sharp stab of white-hot pain sw
ept from the point of contact and over the rest of my body. I winced, but my fingers held. His cane hovered over my stomach and his lips curled back in a snarl.

  "You're only making this worse for yourself," he warned me. He stabbed me again. I bit my lip to stifle the yell, and my fingers lost a little of their grip on the box. "Release the box now."

  "No," I coughed out.

  "There is no reason to concern yourself in this matter," he pointed out. "You have nothing to gain."

  "You don't understand anything. I'm not doing this for me." I jerked my head over my shoulder in Roland's direction. "I'm doing this for him. So you can keep stabbing me with that cane, but I'm not going to let go." I drove my point home when I tightened my grip on the box.

  The Devil snarled at me. "You bring this upon yourself."

  He jabbed the cane into my gut, and this time the stick stuck there. The white-hot heat flowed over me like a thousand hot, sharp needles. They pierced me in a thousand different places and wracked my body with more pain than I ever imagined. I writhed and squirmed, but I couldn't escape the cane. I also didn't let a sound escape my lips. I wouldn't give him that pleasure.

  My fingers jumped and slipped. I was mentally stubborn, but my body couldn't hold out much longer. The pain convulsed my muscles and I felt myself slipping into unconsciousness.

  "Misty!" I heard Roland yell.

  I narrowed my eyes and ground my teeth together. There was no way I was going to let this fancy-suited devil take the man I cared about, the man I loved, away from me.

  A bright light erupted from my chest. The Devil cried out in anger and shielded his arm over his eyes. He staggered back and the cane fell from my chest. I gasped as the pain was sucked out of me. Then that air was punched out of me as the box dropped from the air and onto the ground. I fell with it and the air was knocked from my lungs on impact.

  I raised my head and watched the Devil steady himself five yards from where I lay. I sat up and clutched the box against my chest. The light faded to a dull glow. I reached into my shirt and pulled out Frank's necklace. The light came from the small ornament of flowers.

  The Devil lowered his arm a little and glared at me over the top. "You little bitch," he snapped.

  I dropped the necklace onto my shirt and grinned. "You. . .would know," I gasped.

  "You only delay Roland's death," he warned me.