Tortured Souls (Broken Souls Book 2)

by Richard Hein

  “No,” the bartender said, stomping around the bar like a bow-legged buffalo. Its jowls shook with each vicious shake of its head, a disgusting metronome. “Circe doesn’t want to see you right now. Pack it up and leave, Walker.”

  I pushed on by, shoulders set and gaze determined. Without glancing at the bartender, I hiked a thumb over my shoulder at my backpack.

  “We had a deal,” I said, storming past the patrons sitting at the grime-laden bar. Heads turned to watch. A few hulking figures near the pool table rose in concert. I paid none of them any attention. “I’m just keeping up my end of the bargain.”

  “Deal changed,” the bartender growled, scrambling to get in front of me. The demon stood, a fleshy boulder in my way. The song on the all-digital jukebox clicked over to an Ozzy song as I stopped, staring down at the obese monster.

  “After all Circe’s talk about how the stones would weep if I broke my side?” I said. “I’m hurt. Now then. I made a deal and I’m delivering this book through that door,” I said, nodding at the weathered door that led to Circe’s domain, “with or without you help. It’s time to pay the piper.”

  The thing crossed its arms. “I’m going to bounce your skull off my bar,” it said, “and then—”

  Casually, in an almost friendly gesture, I reached out and put a hand on the thing’s shoulder. I patted the creature and gave its shoulder a squeeze.

  “Piss off,” I said, and willed her out of existence. I had a momentary, fleeting sensation of a bright world of a searing blue sun in a sky hovering above hard-packed and parched ground, shadowed figures prostrate and arrayed around an enormous creature hundreds of feet tall. My mind recoiled as the monstrous beast turned its many golden eyes toward me, as if it could notice my presence.

  The bartender vanished with a pop.

  Tactful, Lauren said with a sigh. Real tactful.

  Chairs squealed as everyone still sitting scrambled to their feet. With a sigh I turned, back to my goal, and faced ten or so creatures.

  “Folks,” I said in an exasperated tone, “let’s not do this. Circe and I have business. Can I pen you all in for an ass-kicking tomorrow?”

  They all charged as one, a dozen boots scrambling across the weathered wood floor at me as Ozzy belted a tune.

  My Samuel could have handled them all, Lauren said. You? You lost your mojo, Twinkles. Stella ain’t getting her groove back now. I’m not saying I will enjoy watching you get your ass beat, but I will say I’m nuking popcorn for unrelated reasons.

  I stood, a rock against the tide, and waited for them to come.

  The first, a creature in the form of a man, towering at six and a half feet, swung at me with a wild haymaker. I stepped at an angle forward and past, snapping my hand around the wrist and pushing. Sensations assaulted my mind as I opened a conduit to the demon’s homeworld, but I blocked them away in the heat of the moment. With an effort of will, the beast vanished, little eddies of displaced air breezing across my face.

  I spun, charging three short steps at something wearing the shape of a woman. Its skin changed as I closed, rippling to a brilliant burnt red like a bloody sunset, distending its arms until they almost reached the ground. They snapped out, impossibly fast, twisted and muscular fingers reaching for me.

  No claws, though. That was a first.

  I’d learned a few things from fighting Clayface. Sometimes, the bad guys are just faster than you, and trying to grapple them long enough to piss them back into the toilet they called home was a bad idea. I tapped into the knowledge Lauren had given me, focusing my will like a hammer and chisel to crack apart a hole between our reality and another one. With an infinite amount to choose from I could find anything I needed as long as I had the strength of will, the belief to tell a mountain to cast itself into the sea should I wish it. I could wrench it into my world as I saw fit, a creator, an artist of destruction.

  I went with what worked, though. Why knock a new favorite?

  A golden chain speared out of nothingness, appearing a foot ahead of me in mid-air. It punched through the grasping arm, spearing through orange flesh like a knife into a rotted piece of fruit. The end flared out, making it impossible to pull back through the ragged hole. The demon screamed.

  My feet brought me around, spinning to throw my back against the long wooden bar as another beast in a leather motorcycle cut tried to give me a shitty bear-hug from behind. My smoldering will lashed out, and the other half of the golden chain appeared, firing through the neck of the leather-clad demon. The tip opened like an umbrella, and as a smile blossomed on my face, I willed the chain to retract.

  The two figures surged together as the golden chain somehow shortened, its mass constricting and dragging wrist to throat.

  Yes! Lauren exulted, the triumphant word echoing in my mind. Now that’s the Samuel I know. I’m going to call my bookie and change my bets.

  They went down in a tangled, writhing heap. I pushed out my will, ripping two more holes in the universe. More golden chains appeared, the chains rippling chest-high, appearing from nowhere.

  “Look, you dense fuckers,” I breathed, feeling the exertion from the magic I’d wrought, “I’m here to talk with Circe. Talk. You all want to throw down? I’ll dance on your broken bodies. Or we can just agree today is not the day we pick this particular fight. Clock is ticking, so which is it?”

  Eight pairs of eyes swiveled to the moaning heap of twisted figures on the floor, struggling in vain to pry themselves apart. Steady streams of black static fuzzed from the wounds.

  No one advanced. I took a breath, careful not to let my relief show. My muscles all ached, a deep burn as if I’d never exercised in the slightest. It wasn’t a sensation I relished. People willingly worked out and felt like this every day?

  I turned and regarded the door that separated this world from the next. Unlike Sanctuary, anyone could open that door and pass to Circe’s domain, as it was with Stefan and Dieter’s little demi-plane. Good.

  I gathered up my focus, ripped another hole in the fabric of the universe, and blew the door right off its fucking hinges.

  A torrent of pure force clawed in from another dimension, an invisible fist hammering at the wooden barrier. The door exploded outward — frame, hinges, and all. The door pirouetted over black sand and through sunny skies, drifting open from the fractured frame before hitting hard. It tore through the soft ground, gouging up sand in a long furrow. The frame tumbled twice and landed with the opening down, door almost vertical like an over-sized sundial. A heartbeat, and the door slammed closed, flat to the ground.

  A little warm breeze swirled past me, pleasant and inviting. I stepped through the ragged portal, savoring the feel of the heat on my skin.

  Just because I was here on business didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy it a tiny bit.

  I heard a slow clap in the recesses of my mind.

  I strode across the stone path that rose from the black sand, crossing the expanse before the hill that housed Circe’s throne. Enormous skeletal fingers from the bone-white tree cast giant shadows as I approached. It took a while to slog all the way up, from hill to tree to palace. Two dozen animalistic monstrosities stood at the edge where marble met tree. My steps arrested as I regarded my welcoming committee.

  Destroy them, Lauren urged. You are Chancellor of the Ordo, Samuel. You don’t bend or bow to Entities. Anything else is a show of weakness.

  “I’d like to walk back out of here,” I muttered. “They'll force feed me my colon.”

  Samuel, Lauren breathed, exasperated, you’re all that’s left of the OFC. If you don’t take a stand, who will? Circe has a freaking kingdom less than a mile from your base. Do you think it’s a coincidence?

  I eyed Circe’s crew. “Not in the slightest. Doesn’t change the fact that reality dictates my actions. Suicide by demon is not high on my list.”

  Just… don’t let her talk to you, Lauren said. A note of panic crept into the words, the plea tumbling out in a rush. Do what you n
eed to do and be done with it. Circe is powerful, Samuel. Don’t let her get your panties all twisted around.

  “Walker,” Circe’s voice crowed. I couldn’t even see the queen from here, still a few hundred yards across the building atop her bone throne, but my name carried on the wind. It caressed, it called, it beckoned with implicit command.

  Keeping a wary eye on the deformed monstrosities, I approached. Circe lounged on the throne, one leg kicked over a skeletal arm of the grotesque chair, tapping a heel against a bony protrusion. An alien face, beautiful and repulsive, turned to watch my approach, eyes glittering with dark thoughts.

  “I did not summon you,” Circe said, eyes narrowing.

  “I’m like that,” I said with a shrug, “always showing up where I’m not wanted, raiding your fridge for leftovers. We had a deal.”

  Circe regarded me for a long moment. The gaze had a weight, bearing down on me like a giant hand from the heavens, fit to squash me flat. I struggled to stay upright against the pressure.

  “We did,” Circe said at last, pulling her eyes from me. I gasped at the sudden cessation of the crushing sensation, taking a moment to gulp down air while the queen of this realm glanced past me. I heard footsteps, claws on stone, and with a glance saw that the Island of Misfit Toys had sent its finest to watch our exchange.

  “The book,” the queen said, one elfin hand stretching forth, spindly fingers uncurling and beckoning toward me.

  I wrapped a hand around my backpack’s strap, clutching it tight. “Not so fast. I have questions.”

  “Questions.” The word came out flat, without inflection.

  My feet whispered across the polished stone as I approached another dozen feet, head lifted high to regard Circe. “I admit it took a bit to figure out it was you. I’m used to demons like you being duplicitous, but I figured since I still had something you wanted, you were playing straight. At least for the moment.”

  I unslung the pack and held it out at arm’s length, showing it to Circe before letting it drop.

  “Why would you jeopardize your goal?” I continued. “It made little sense.”

  Circe remained silent, face unreadable and impassive.

  “Except you know what’s in here,” I said, nudging the bag with one foot. “Which means you know what can be done. And since the Twins sent me here, it means that our mutual acquaintance Simon likely shared little bits of his work with you. You should work on your poker face, your most utterly royal highness. As soon as I mentioned Simon’s name last I was here, your face fell like that of an aging movie starlet’s. I should have put it together faster.”

  Don’t talk, Samuel, Lauren pleaded. Strike while Circe is unaware. You can’t leave a nest like this to fester.

  “Simon is a traitor,” Circe hissed, passion licking the words. The queen drew up to full height, an alien beauty on a twisted bone throne, regal and sinister and horrific all at once. “That fact overrides everything, Walker. Wiping out the knowledge he has brought into this world is of more import than anything else you can imagine.”

  I smiled. “The ability to track your kind? Yeah, I bet that burns a little.”

  “He kept records of us,” Circe said, gesturing with one hand at the floor near the base of her throne. The marble rippled like water, like molten steel, bubbling upward. It oozed like magma, growing until it formed a box two meters tall, formed seamlessly with the floor as if hewn from the same rock. Now that was an impressive amount of control over the pocket reality. “Records used against us. We lost many to his curiosity, Walker. Yes, when you uttered Simon’s name I knew I had to destroy you lest you find the pitiful fool before me and release that knowledge to the world.”

  “After all that talk about how you never, ever, ever break your word,” I said.

  “Some things go beyond deals brokered. And yet, everything works out in the end, does it not? Have we not reached an amicable peace?”

  The box shifted, surface melting away and leaving a hollow container with bars. A marble cage. Within, Simon cowered, kneeling and trembling, eyes downcast, still wearing the same ragged clothes I’d seen the demon in only hours earlier.

  “I must thank you for this delightful gift,” Circe said. “His squirming agony shall entertain me for years yet to come. Why, I almost regret trying to kill you, but this makes us square once again.”

  I blinked in confusion. Gift?

  God damn it, Samuel, Lauren snarled, Circe is playing you like a cheap pawn shop fiddle.

  “So,” I said, drawing out the syllable, “you followed me with Clayface the No-Faced Demon to Simon’s pad and nabbed him after I left?” I frowned. “Except your little beast tried to chew our bones in that alley. That makes little sense either.”

  Circe regarded me as if I was daft. “You gave him to me, Walker, free of debt and obligation. I admit I had you wrong. Perhaps the new leadership of the vaunted Ordo Felix Culpa understands the balance in this world. You still do not name a favor for this exchange? I am loathe to leave a debt between us.”

  “I did no such thing,” I countered. I waved a hand at Simon in the cage. The Entity never looked up. “Look, I’m no fan of hobo-feasting monster-things, but I’d also not consign anything to your clutches. Meaning no offense, but said clutches look bony and in desperate need of a manicure.”

  Dark eyes narrowed. “What game is this? We had an accord.”

  “I don’t know who you’ve been talking to, but it wasn’t me.”

  Circe’s full gaze snapped to the gaggle of minions gathered behind. “Fetch Uluvara,” Circe commanded. “She answered the messages from Walker on my behalf.”

  “Big beefy lass?” I asked. “A power mullet? Runs the bar? We had a disagreement and this Uluvara is having a permanent time-out.”

  “My patience has worn thin,” Circe declared, striding from the throne. The gathered servants all took to their knees and pressed what passed for a forehead to the stone. “You spoke with Uluvara, Walker. You offered a deal. You gave me notice that the traitor Simon had returned to his domicile. I was shown the device with which you communicated.”

  I laughed. “You mean a phone? You must not get out much. I never checked in. See?”

  My hand slipped my phone from a pocket and flipped it open. I dug through to the number I’d entered and checked the call log. Empty. I spun the phone around for a half second, flashed the tiny screen at Circe, and flipped it back.

  “No calls,” I said. “No texts either. I just—”

  Three messages sent.

  A cold, hollow horror settled in my chest. I clicked into the messages and read each. The most recent one, from earlier in the day, explained that whoever wrote the texts believed Norman Lockyer had a copy of Simon’s notes and now could detect Entities as needed. The next one back elaborated that the sender was there at Simon’s apartment in the demon’s presence and that it was safe to come gather the creature up. The earliest seemed to offer Simon to Circe, free and clear of any obligation once found.

  “This wasn’t me,” I said, voice flat. My phone had never left my possession. Hell, I’d even…

  I swallowed. Memories of finding my phone in my hand, no recollection what I was doing with it bubbled up to the surface. At Sanctuary when my car had been wrecked. With Kate in her car. Even at Simon’s apartment. Each time I’d had a moment of confusion, as if confused about what I was doing. I’d had an answer, an off-the-cuff response that had bubbled up from somewhere.

  What have you done? I asked of Lauren.

  What you wouldn’t. You’re weak, Samuel. You’re not fit to lead in your current state. You need challenge. True growth comes in the face of adversity, not sitting on your ass reading books, looking for notes on how Christina ran things before. The only way to do that is to struggle, to fight against your betters and become stronger for it.

  No. Lauren couldn’t… My thoughts fuzzed, static filling my mind as the implications rocked me. Dieter had said I was me, that I couldn’t be controlled.
>
  I was Samuel Walker, damn it all, not some puppet for a monstrosity pretending to be my dead girlfriend.

  You must attack her before she plans, Lauren stated. Beings like Circe won’t let you exist now that she has the measure of you. I bought you some time by giving up Simon, lulled this so-called queen into admitting you into her presence once more. Finish this now, Samuel, or all of Seattle will suffer.

  The hollow ache in my chest grew until I felt fit to burst from within.

  Circe studied me. A slow smile spread across that angular face, beautiful and tyrannical all together. The queen snapped fingers in three different hands and pointed. One of the porcine guards dashed forward, eyes averted, to snatch up my backpack. Handing it to Circe, the beast dropped to knees beside me. I barely saw any of it.

  “I thank you for your many gifts, Walker,” Circe said, unfastening the clasps and fishing out the copy of Vitae Superno I’d had Sanctuary create. “You should consider servitude. There are so many ways we could complement each other. I’d reward you greatly for Simon and Lockyer, but the book was payment owed and payment now rendered.”

  Lockyer. One text had mentioned the man. If Circe wanted to be sure that the ability to detect Entities was solely within the queen’s own grasp, then—

  “What are you going to do to him?” I said. The words felt heavy on my lips, my mouth separated from my brain by a cloudy haze of disbelief and shock. I felt numb, as if I’d plunged into glacial waters.

  “Who? Norman Lockyer?” Circe ran a thumb over the pristine binding of the book with affection. “Rest assured that my children here are not my full forces. Even now I send my forces to end his pitiful life. He is but a child, toying with the master’s tools, and it is time for him to learn his lesson. Something… something lingers in the air near his home, Walker. A charge in the air, an ill wind for my children. Can you not sense it?”