Tortured Souls (Broken Souls Book 2)

by Richard Hein

  Just once I’d like to see someone do something with a lava lamp.

  I turned to ask when I’d see my apparent host, but my guide had vanished. The men and women we’d passed earlier filed in silently. They took seats on the long benches, eyes locked on the lectern. A few spared me unflattering glances, pointedly showing my status as an outsider. A few, I noted, carried firearms.

  I crossed my arms and stood waiting for the show to start. There didn’t seem to be much of a point in sitting for class. This whole thing felt less like something enigmatic and more like an intro pitch to a shitty multi-level marketing scheme.

  The music dwindled and vanished. One of the side doors opened, and a man strode in, his suit likely costing more than all the cars I’d ever owned. Norman Lockyer, I assumed. He matched a few of the family portrait paintings in the entry. He held himself straight-backed and moved with authority and purpose. He had a blocky shape, that of a man once fit who had let much of that muscle fade to flab. I guessed he was in his mid to late fifties, silvery-haired and clean shaven with eyes that had no mirth lines at the corners. With no preamble he stepped up to the lectern, his gaze sweeping out over the assembled crowd, right past me. Not a hint of recognition.

  “Seattle has been under the shadow of a serious threat for the last six months,” he said. At this my heart quickened. It had been six months since I’d been thrown into the leadership of the OFC. I pushed any shock from my face and waited.

  “Many of you know of this situation,” Lockyer continued, curling his fingers around the lectern and leaning forward. “The wolves are in among the sheep and it is an all-you-can-eat buffet. Humanity faces its biggest threat in centuries, and we’re about as equipped as the proverbial baby against someone stealing its candy.” The blaze of lights from above gave him a kind of glow — a halogen aura.

  “I’ve invited Chancellor Samuel Walker of the Ordo Felix Culpa here today,” Lockyer said, gesturing at me. “Most of you are familiar with the work of the OFC.” Every face swiveled again. I held up a hand and waved.

  “Uh, hello,” I said. “I have zero idea why I’m here. Is there like a pamphlet, or a brochure, or…”

  Lockyer fixed his eyes upon me and I fell silent. He gave a small nod and returned his focus to the crowd at large. “Old methods may no longer be a viable strategy. Humanity has to adapt or we face being wiped out. This, you know. Many of you, however, are unaware of the viciousness of some of these incursions.”

  Lockyer stabbed at the air with the Politician’s Pointer, thumb pressed against index finger as he punctuated each statement.

  “Most Entities are content to simply exist on Earth. Or perhaps work to bring more of their brethren in. Others sow chaos like seeds, but their reasoning is alien, unknowable. With the recent power vacuum, the bugs are crawling out of the walls. This is troublesome.

  “We must confront these threats with every tool available to us,” Lockyer said, voice emphatic. “If we are without firearms against these wolves, we use knives. If our knives chip and shatter, we gouge out their eyes with pointed sticks and our own damned thumbs if need be. We use what we must to protect the entirety of existence.” He slapped a hand on the lectern, and I was the only one that jumped.

  Please don’t say magic, I thought. Please don’t say magic. I wasn’t sure if I could call in an air strike using my authority as Chancellor, but if they were planning on using magic I’d need to slag this place fast. I cataloged just how much of the mansion was flammable.

  Judging by all the expensive wood paneling, I guessed it was a lot. I really hoped I wouldn’t have to burn it down.

  “Bring it out, please.”

  Lockyer gestured at the door he’d come through. With the blaze of lights aiming down on him, it made it hard to see past him and into the shadowed doorway, but Alvin stepped forward, hefting one of those large plastic carriers you took dogs to the vet in. He hustled forward, eyes meeting mine for a heartbeat. He gave me a wink and put the carrier down beside his boss before retreating to the shadows. An icy feeling of dread wrapped fingers around my heart.

  The carrier rocked, a keening growl cutting through the air. The whole container jumped half a foot to the right, but Alvin had dropped it so the front grate was facing toward Lockyer and not myself. I couldn’t see what was within, but I was assuming a demon of some sort. I uncrossed my arms and surreptitiously slid a hand to my back pocket where my enchanted baton jutted halfway out.

  Okay. A dozen steps to Lockyer and the crate. I’d have seconds before the others reacted. I needed to pound whatever Entity was in that crate to goo before it infected the others, then catch a moment to explain before I was swept away in a sea of affluent people.

  I was so fixated on the carrier crate I hadn’t noticed Alvin stepping into the room again, this time leading a young woman, no older than twenty. Her eyes were sunken, ringed with a profound look of tiredness. She wore rumpled, weathered clothing.

  It was hard not to notice the five-point restraints binding her, thick steel and chains.

  I pushed my senses out once again, tentative and seeking, trying to feel any signs of magic use, to understand what was going on here. I frowned as something that felt like an oily miasma buffeted against my mind, slick and unyielding. It radiated from the young woman.

  Even with the incense there was a whiff of burnt popcorn swirling about the girl. I was a dozen steps away, but it was like she was right beside me. It wasn’t the smell of body odor or old laundry — that would have been homey, like my office — but something that rubbed at my brain wrong. Smell might have been the incorrect term, but there was a palpable otherness that made me blink.

  Dieter could tell if someone was possessed through prolonged physical contact. Was I sensing that?

  Is that… is that telling me she’s possessed? I asked Lauren mentally.

  I’m surprised you’re able to do that, it responded, amused. Requires more brain power than you’re used to using, focusing your senses like that.

  Hilarious, I thought. Answer the damn question.

  A pause. Yes.

  Interesting. Something I needed to pay attention to once this was all said and done. Had it been present at my meeting with the Twins? Had I become so used to such a sensation due to my time working with them? All things considered, that—

  I swore and snapped my focus back. Crap. That meant the young woman was possessed. My anxiety ratcheted up to eleven. Chained or not, she was a danger. Whatever this was, I had to shut it down. My fingers curled around my baton and I snapped it out to full length.

  Lockyer squatted and opened the carrier. His large hands pulled out a creature that could only be described as an unholy fusion of a spider and a horse, slightly larger than a house cat. Six chitinous limbs twitched as a vaguely equine head as black as obsidian thrashed, a ear-stabbing shriek filling the air. It flailed, attempting to latch row upon row of tiny teeth onto Lockyer’s hand, but the man curled its fingers about its neck and hefted it up into the glow of the halogen lights. I started forward.

  “This will not be pleasant,” he breathed to the young woman. “If you can hear me in there, I apologize for this. It will be over soon.”

  The possessed woman’s eyes narrowed. She twisted away, chains rattling as she hunkered down. I felt the surge of magic, of someone’s will punching a hole from this reality to another and weaving together our existence with one of the infinite ones out there. I dashed forward, baton sweeping up.

  Lockyer’s other hand snapped out, fingers splayed as he pressed the tips against the top of her skull. A purple glow sprang up, seeming to seep out of the contact between his fingers and the possessed woman’s forehead and hair. She stiffened, rocketing up to her feet, back arcing so fast I was sure it might snap clean in two from the effort. The glow intensified, bright but not painful, as her arms twitched. Her eyes snapped closed, muscles dancing like she’d French-kissed an outlet, shifting just beneath the surface.

  Our host hefted h
is other hand, lifting the spider creature. A similar purple glow flashed around it, and the thing vanished with the pop of displaced air from an exorcism. The light flared, washing out my vision for a moment. The possessed woman screamed, a wail of abject horror that cut off. I stumbled as I lost sight, and when everything cleared again, I slowed to a stop, eyes wide.

  Spider-Horse was gone. The young woman had slumped to her knees, haunted eyes wide.

  Lauren thrashed in the recesses of my mind. It was as if my head was a cage for a nuclear blast. Heat and pressure erupted against the inside of my skull, and I hissed as something jabbed a hundred molten ice picks into my eyes. My baton tumbled from numb fingers.

  I’d only sensed the edges of what had happened, but… I swallowed. Had Lockyer just used an Entity to cast out a demon? Somehow consumed its life essence and channeled in into an exorcism?

  Never in my life had I heard of such a thing.

  That’s not possible, Lauren snarled, the volume of it threatening to blow my eyes from their sockets. I felt its terror, something I never thought an Entity could experience. It seemed afraid, lashing about the confines of my mind like a pent up tiger.

  Abomination. Its voice spat the word. They… they consumed it, Samuel. The hurricane of her anger swelled within me, pressing against my will.

  Ten, I thought in desperation. My fingers twitched, and I wasn’t sure it was under my control. Nine.

  “Chancellor Walker?”

  My eyes snapped up. I was standing halfway to Norman Lockyer, past everyone seated on their little benches. No one else had risen, as if the show they’d witnessed was an afternoon matinee. Alvin had paused in removing the woman’s restraints, watching me. I had stumbled forward, shuddered, and dropped a weapon, and now everyone stared on me as if I’d just stripped naked and howled at the moon. I pulled in a breath through my nose, trying to calm my torrent of emotions, but found that Lauren had retreated to the edges of my consciousness, a quiet bundle of energy ready to be unleashed once more.

  “Whoops,” I said, snatching up my baton. “Dropped my, uh… stick.”

  Lockyer stared. Alvin gave a slow shake of his head, a wry smirk on his face. Everyone else turned to regard the woman.

  “Are you okay?” Lockyer asked, offering her a hand. Alvin retreated with the chains and cuffs, leaving her standing free. She blinked back the wetness out of her eyes and stared up at him.

  “I could see everything,” she whispered, pressing a hand to her forehead. “Hear it all. It was like… like…”

  “Someone else was pulling the strings on your body.”

  I had no idea who Lockyer was or what he’d just done, but this was now my jurisdiction. My back straightened as I approached. I realized I still held my collapsible baton extended and slipped it behind my back.

  The woman nodded, still trembling. She pressed her palms to her eyes. “Oh… Oh God.”

  I swept my gaze to Lockyer, who met it. “She’s been freed,” he said simply.

  I chewed at my cheek. An exorcism took time. Sometimes just moments, but it still took time — even when I was tapping in to the extra mojo that having Lauren brought with it, and it had never included a light show. This had been practically instant — if it was even true. I had no way to confirm it. If I could sneak her out of here, get her to my car, and get her to the Twins, I’d be able to ask Dieter. That demon could always tell.

  Tentatively, I let my senses wander again. I felt nothing, no miasma around her now. I had to admit I was curious, even if the whole situation set off my radar something fierce. Still, as far as I could tell no one had used magic, so I wasn’t obligated to go around beating heads.

  Yet.

  Alvin flashed me an unreadable look as he fetched up the now-empty carrier and escorted the shaking woman from the room.

  “I’ll speak with all of you during the coming days,” Lockyer announced, fingers curled around the podium. “Thank you. Chancellor Walker, I’m sure you have an abundance of questions. Would you care to speak in my office?”

  Finally. I gave a quick thumbs-up to signal my approval. Lockyer nodded and dismissed the others before turning on one heel and retreating out another door. Lauren was seething in of the dark recesses of my mind. I followed, ready for some answers.

  Chapter 6

  “Cigar? Scotch?”

  To my surprise, he’d led me outside and around the back of the mansion. Was it a power play, or did the man prefer unconventional meetings? I tried to get a read on my host and came up empty.

  The winter air nipped at my cheeks, day having given way to twilight. Lockyer led me to what looked like an outdoor kitchen crafted of stone. It had a little canopy, an enormous grill, and even a refrigerator humming away beside wooden cabinets. It lay nestled between an enormous pool covered for the season and a circular patio with some cedar Adirondack chairs arrayed around a built-in fire pit. Terraced steps ran down to the pool, each illuminated with a light.

  Lockyer gestured at a chair. I sat as he opened a cabinet and pulled out a bottle of twenty-one-year-old scotch.

  No lock, I noted. He must trust his employees, to leave such a delicious bounty out in the open like that.

  “Cigar,” I said, settling my gaze on the cabinet of booze and feeling a stir. I squeezed one fist into a tight, shaking ball beside the chair. “Soda if you got it.”

  Lockyer gave me an incredulous look as he poured a few fingers into a glass.

  He sat. From within his jacket he pulled a black leather case, which offered up a few cigars when opened. My host snipped the ends and lit both with a torch lighter that appeared from another pocket. I took one and eased back, slinging a leg over a chair arm as I puffed thoughtfully.

  This feels like an episode of Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous, I thought. Just needs Robin Leach.

  We puffed in silence for a minute. Alvin appeared from the growing night, taking up a position at the edge of the patio, hands clasped behind his back. I waved a cigar at him in salute.

  I stared across the expanse of the property, past the pool perhaps a hundred yards to a tasteful fence of trees. Some sort of marble sculpture rested near the property line, waist-high and hexagon-shaped like a truncated Greek pillar. The breeze died down, leaving it merely cold rather than freezing. I wondered why he had staged our meeting here rather than somewhere warm.

  I hadn’t received my soda and deducted a few points. Bad form.

  “I’d have liked to have met in private before the little spectacle you saw,” Lockyer said, leaning across and offering a hand. “Seems impolite doing it this way, so you have my apologies on that. Got wrapped up in a thousand little projects and figured sometimes the best way is right into the deep end.”

  I took it and gave it a terse shake. “You win points for showmanship this way.”

  Lockyer kept his grip firm and met my eyes. I had to give it to the man. He had the shake down better than all the soulless project managers and middle management I’d dealt with during my cubicle days. This was a man who had practiced such a shake over countless meetings.

  He’d also done it after offering me a smoke and a drink. Plus a few points.

  He sipped his drink in appreciation. I envied him.

  “I have too many questions,” I said. “Why don’t you pick a bit and begin there?”

  He nodded, drumming fingers on his chair. The ring finger on his left hand was missing a band; the telltale sign of lighter skin told a small tale.

  “As I’m sure you’ve guessed by now, my father was Frederick Lockyer,” he said after a moment of contemplation. He watched me for a moment in expectation.

  “Okay…” I said, drawing out the syllable.

  He stared, eyebrows raising a fraction. “My father was Chancellor of the OFC before Christina Gere ousted him.”

  I straightened in my chair a little, cursing my lack of knowledge. Now that was interesting. I made a mental note to dig through the records of former members when I got back. It seemed t
here was history I was missing out on.

  “I see,” I said around a mouthful of smoke. “Frederick Lockyer, former Chancellor of the OFC. Of course.”

  “You have no idea who he is.”

  “Not a clue.”

  Lockyer rubbed at his eyes. “They forcibly removed my father from leadership in the summer of sixty-seven. I was eight. I had little idea why my father was never coming home again.”

  I swallowed. Retirement from the OFC is usually done posthumously. I sympathized, given how close I’d come to having a bullet put in the back of my head a few years earlier. My understanding nod felt insignificant next to the gravity of what he was saying, but five decades later felt like bad timing for a ‘sorry for your loss’.

  “Hopefully not for magic,” I said.

  Lockyer’s smile was wistful and thin. “Nothing so dramatic, though perhaps that makes it worse. No, Father held some very unorthodox views regarding running the OFC. During his time as Chancellor, he came to believe we were fighting a losing battle — ‘we’ being the Ordo, not humanity. A small, clandestine organization responsible for the vast majority of security in keeping our universe safe?” He shook his head and sipped his scotch.

  “Father came to believe the best way to keep humanity safe was to keep people informed. Aware. We might know about the wolf in the sheep’s clothing, but what about the sheep that had the soul of a wolf? Let the world know about the things that are out there seeking to prey on us and arm them against the threat.”

  “Interesting.” I gave a low whistle. “On the other hand, a lot of what happens right now is by accident, or through the small amount of actual information on magic and summoning we haven’t went all Third Reich and burned yet. Imagine if people knew it was all real. That’ll galvanize people’s faith, which would give them enough strength to call up just about anything. And you know damned well there would be people trying it for shits and giggles. I’ve seen videos on the Internet of people lighting themselves on fire for fun. Now you tell them they can summon up demons? Jackass meets The Exorcist. Keeping things a secret has been what’s kept the world from plunging into chaos.”