Tortured Souls (Broken Souls Book 2)

by Richard Hein

  Shit. Some of the haze I was feeling evaporated under the searing heat of anger. I wasn’t sure where Lockyer sat on the spectrum, but I wasn’t about to leave him to the machinations of Circe. My eyes flicked to the book, breath catching as I carefully, slowly, softly took a long step away.

  “Once I learned of Simon’s work, I knew I needed—” Circe said, flipping open the cover with one of six great arms.

  The book exploded.

  A pulse of amethyst light detonated outward, preceding the explosion itself. Circe screamed, enveloped by the purple flames that licked from the book, roiling to the ceiling. The pig-man beside me squealed as the supernatural flames rolled over its fatty body. Thunderous echoes crashed back from all sides, reflected by the pillars supporting the place.

  I’d waited to the last possible moment and flung myself backward, not wanting to give even a breath of a hint about what was to come. I hit hard, hammering down onto my shoulder and rolling. I tried to come up onto my feet, but the marble was too slick. My boots slipped as I tried in vain to gain traction and instead kept sliding backward.

  I’d taken Kate’s advice and had a small talk with Sanctuary. The Entity could manifest just about anything within its realm, and those things persisted once they left. We had a little shed full of weapons — batons, smoke grenades, and big brass guns that shot something akin to a laser. I knew I’d need something a little beefier to deal with Circe.

  A chorus of howls reverberated from the pillars as I scrambled to my feet. A score of pig-like twisted monstrosities surged up from their poses of supplication and charged at me. Without waiting to see what had become of Circe, I ran. For a moment, the urge to tap into magic was maddening, to summon forth something that would allow me to egress faster or even the odds, but I had a sinking suspicion that would have given Lauren a bigger hold on my soul.

  Instead, I sprinted like hell itself was chasing after me.

  I dodged a grasping paw, dashed around a nightmare monster, and raced out of the building, nearly tumbling a quarter mile as I mistimed the first hovering step that led around the tree. I ran as fast as I could, the fear of Circe and the fear of falling mixing into an unholy cocktail that set my heart fit to burst.

  Darkness coalesced around me, thick and viscous. Tendrils of it pressed against my legs, my arms, slowing me like that recurring nightmare where you run but get no closer to your destination.

  “Waaaaallkkkkkkkeerrrrrr!”

  Circe’s voice snarled around me, a thorny bush of sharpened steel ripping at my mind. I cried out at a sudden, neon pain flashing through my mind and hit the floor sideways, sliding a few feet. I tried to push up onto one arm, trembled, and collapsed hard enough that my skull bounced off marble. I could feel the demon, fingers digging into my soul, my willpower, digging like an eager child into their basket of candy on Halloween. Circe, queen of this domain, a world created only at the creature’s will and whim, twisting it to rack my body. This demi-reality shifted and changed, darkness pooling over me and threatening to wash me away.

  I sucked in a breath through my nose, slow and trembling. My body ached with the effort of it. Somewhere nearby I could hear hooves on stone approaching, but I pushed that aside.

  Focus. I could almost hear Sanctuary’s snide voice commanding me in our repeated sessions to bolster my mental defenses against Lauren. It took an eternity, a second, for my thoughts to crystallize into solid form once more. I gathered myself up, throwing up walls around my mind, and pushed.

  The darkness trembled. Halted. The pain in my mind lessened, Circe’s mental fingers halting their digging into my brain. Another breath, and I hardened the walls.

  “Walker. Walker! WALKER!”

  Circe’s cries rattled my teeth, but in that moment I could breathe. The darkness evaporated, and I pushed up onto wobbling feet.

  “Thank you, Sanctuary,” I mumbled, “for smacking me in the face with books.”

  I took off at a tentative run and hell itself nipped at my heels as Circe’s twisting of her realm tore after me. Lightning streaked from a clear sky, blasting basketball-sized craters in the stone around me. With a panicked cry, I dashed from the building and onto the first hovering stair around the great bole of the tree.

  Downward. Ever downward.

  Scrambling over roots, I charged onto the volcanic rock. The hill dropped away, and I landed poorly, tumbling ass over shoulder a dozen feet before staggering back into a run. I needed to get through the door and back to Earth before Circe focused.

  Simon. For a moment, I had a pang of regret. Simon was a monster, a beast from outside reality, one that had caused harm over unknown years to people of my city. I still had a second of hesitation, a hollow feeling of sorrow at leaving the thing behind for Circe to vent her frustration on.

  My feet hit sand at the base of the hill, slowing me. There, a hundred yards ahead, hung an opening in reality, the bar visible beyond. Nothing would stop my pursuers from chasing me onto Earth, but I had a ride waiting. I wondered if there was any way to sever the connection between the realms that didn’t involve killing Circe. I’d almost snapped the ties between Sanctuary and Earth earlier in the year, but that would have involved grabbing a metaphorical pillow and smothering the controlling Entity to death. Until I learned the secret of cleaving off these pocket realities, however, I had to keep it simple.

  I ran, the shouts of unspeakable animalistic horrors mingling with Circe’s howls of rage.

  Three minutes later Stefan’s car peeled away from The Odyssey. I sank into the seat, chest heaving, limbs leaden from exertion.

  “Where to, boss?” Stefan said, ignoring my disheveled state.

  “Mercer Island,” I said, tugging off a shoe and dumping black sand onto the car’s floor. Stefan gave me a disapproving glare but said nothing. “Circe has an army out for blood.”

  I stared out the window, unseeing. Lauren. I should have been on guard against something like that, but I’d let myself believe that because I wasn’t traditionally possessed, I was immune to manipulation.

  Never again, I thought bitterly at the beast in my mind.

  Mocking laughter echoed back.

  Chapter 20

  Stefan pulled to a stop about two blocks from Lockyer’s mansion. Twilight was fast approaching, and the gentle swirl of snow had turned the evening into a gray haze of nothingness. My skin prickled as if the air itself was electric.

  “Just up there,” I said, gesturing at the looming shadow of the expansive home.

  “Yeah,” Stefan said, “about that. We can’t get involved in this. Crossing Circe is really bad for one’s health, and charging headfirst into the home of a man that exterminates my kind seems a tad short-sighted.”

  I shifted so I could stare at my demon chauffeur. “You’re kidding. This is important. Innocent people could die if we don’t warn them.”

  “Samuel,” Stefan said with a sigh and a sad head shake, “I’m not a soldier. I’m not a fighter, or a killer, or a hero. I’m a good salesman, an exceptional cook, and a damned fine lover. Tell me. Which of those will help you here?”

  “I could use the help. Any help.”

  “You could call Kate? She’d be a darling and here in a jiffy.”

  I ground my teeth. “I don’t want to see her hurt. This is big league stuff.”

  Stefan shrugged and gave me a wan smile. “It seems you want someone you consider expendable, Samuel.”

  “Yeah,” I said, nodding, “about right. You can use magic safely and you’re immune to the real bullets that Lockyer’s goons carry. If things go sideways, you’re my best hope.”

  Stefan’s face fell. “Oh. Well, be that as it may, you can’t have your cake and eat it too. I can’t get in Circe’s way. Dieter and I don’t have that level of pull with the supernatural community. I’m happy to help, Samuel, but only to the level of my ability and nothing more.”

  A twisting sliver of annoyance pushed up within me. I kicked open the door and crunched out into
the fine layer of snow dusting the street. With a scowl, I leaned back to peer into the car. “That’s it, then? Our relationship only extends as far as simple favors?”

  The demon's fingers dipped into a pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper, proffering it. I took it. A signed check.

  “Yes, Samuel,” Stefan said in a sad voice, “but only because you made your choice long ago. You don’t consider us friends, or even acquaintances. We’re just tools for you to use. Best of luck. I mean it when I say I hope you don’t die.”

  I watched as tail lights vanished into the dwindling light.

  Fucking demons. I started a brisk walk to close the last few hundred yards, thoughts swirling like the snow. I knew on some level that Stefan was right. I didn’t view them as friends so much as assets. Expecting them to walk into certain danger just because I didn’t equate them on the same level as Kate, or even Daniel, was a dick move.

  It still felt like the right decision to make, though. It’s not like they were people.

  As I walked I pulled out my cell. My heart quickened. The phone I’d used to damn myself. I hated myself for falling prey to Lauren’s twisted machinations. It filled me with a disgusting mix of despair and rage. I knew I shouldn’t be alone right then — I had no idea what Lauren could do with my body, my mind — but there was work to do. I was compromised, but as long as I could make decisions, I had a job to do.

  A part of me wondered if I’d even know if I was doing Lauren’s will, though. Do the crazy know they’re crazy?

  I called Alvin for the tenth time since leaving The Odyssey. For the first time, he answered.

  “Jesus, Walker, what?” Alvin said, exasperated.

  “What good is having a phone number for your boss if I can never get hold of him in an emergency?” I snapped. “We’ve got a shit tsunami sweeping down right now and I need to talk to Lockyer.”

  “You’re making no sense, Samuel. I can’t get through to him. This whole place is on lockdown. It’s kinda crazy here.”

  “Well, find a way,” I said. I came abreast of the long wall that ran the length of the property, parallel to the road. Ahead, I could see the guard shack at the gate. “I’m out front. Any chance you can get me in to see him?”

  “I’ll look around,” Alvin said doubtfully, “but I have no idea where he is.”

  “Turn on the Bat-Signal, then. This is bad, Alvin. Like, if the imminent threat of nuclear annihilation across the face of the entire world was a three, this is a one.”

  “In this imaginary scale, lower numbers are worse?”

  I took a slow, steadying breath, feeling my anger boil. Fuck calming exercises and fuck all that peaceful zen shit. This couldn’t wait.

  “Alvin, a high-rolling supernatural threat has just called for the extermination and eradication of everyone here,” I said. “If you can’t get me through to your boss, you need to warn him. Right now. Shout it from the roof. Bang pots and pans together. Get the word out.”

  A pause. “I’ll try. Like I said, though, the place is all crazy at the moment. Shit’s fucked up. We’ve got double our normal number of guards and there’s people out back moving all these covered crates around.”

  My turn to pause. “Party?”

  “At night, Samuel? In this snow? With guns?”

  “I don’t know what the rich do for kicks, Alvin. Maybe they’re prepping to hunt people for sport. Go find your boss and tell him.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  I stared up at the wall, towering a dozen feet above me. “Oh, I’ll think of something.”

  “I’ll call if I have something,” Alvin said, and the line went dead.

  Pulling my coat closer around me, I thumbed through my recent contacts list. I hovered on Kate for a moment, then skipped over to Daniel. It rang for an eternity before going to voicemail. I grunted and put the phone away. He must be in Sanctuary. Without extra people manning the phones on Earth, it was impossible to pass on a message.

  “Looks like it’s up to me,” I muttered, and jumped to catch the top of the wall.

  That, it turns out, was a bad idea. The cut across my stomach and the road rash on my arm disagreed with my course of action with strong, painful words. I hissed as I scrambled, boots kicking against cold stone, trying in vain to do a single pull-up. My fingers burned with the effort of hauling myself up, though at last managed to scramble up. Wheezing, groaning, and very undignified, I hauled myself to the top. A minute later I was down on the other side, amid a pristine field of snow-covered grass.

  Shit. It wouldn’t take any effort to spot my passing if the guard in the booth bothered to look. I saw a patrol of three guards work their way from around the back of the mansion, along a little stone path and around toward the central driveway and fountain. I hunkered back against the wall as their eyes fell past me, but with the increasing flurry of snow and my coat blending with the shadows in the corner, they continued on without raising alarm. I blew out a breath, watching it steam in the darkening air.

  I had to find Lockyer and warn him. I had no idea how long we had — and I had to lump myself in that ‘we’ now that I’d both arrived at the selected location for carnage. Not to mention that I’d bombed Circe’s face. I was probably on top of their ‘kill painfully’ list, and they’d be here soon.

  Did all the porcine demons have to take a bus, or did they cram into a Volkswagen Beetle like a clown car?

  Hunkered low, I loped across the ground. The electric charge in the air intensified, humming against my skin in waves and pulses. It felt somewhat like the twisting of reality by magic, except muted and diminished in a way I’d never sensed before, as if a wet blanket had been draped over it. Had Circe’s crew already arrived, hidden somewhere beyond prying eyes and working up some great feat of magic? I shuddered at the thought as I slipped through a manicured and leaf-bare bush to press up against the side of the house.

  My trail was clear across the grounds. I had no idea how often that patrol wandered, or if there were more, but I knew I only had a short time. A part of me wondered if I shouldn’t just shout and play Marco Polo with Lockyer. After all, wouldn’t the guards bring me to him once they found me?

  I skulked along the building toward the back side of the house, with the patio and outdoor kitchen Lockyer had flaunted. I stepped around the corner, and a sudden gust buffeted at me, driving snow right into my eyes. The wind had changed direction in a blink as if an enormous fan had pointed at a new bearing. Shivering, I padded to the rear kitchen door, but stopped as four dark figures shuffled past from the far side of the house. Two pushed an enormous cloth-covered box, square and concealed. It slid across the snow-laden grass, one man in front and another behind, dredging up a white wake as it passed. The other two figures flanked the object, carrying devices that looked like cattle prods.

  Squatting down, I watched as they wheeled the thing toward the far end of the property, the destination lost to diminishing light and growing snow.

  Huh.

  Carefully, slowly, I slid open the kitchen door.

  And almost walked right into a hulking woman looking like a para-military poster child. A veritable Barbarian Betty, she wore everything in a tactical black, right down to the compact automatic weapon and cattle prod, and the hilts of a half-dozen knives.

  She turned, snapping the submachine gun to one shoulder in a practiced motion, taking three quick steps back to clear the distance. I swallowed and snapped my hands up into the air as high as they would go. I noticed a fresh bruise just under one of her eyes, and a little bit of toilet paper wadded up one nostril.

  “Whoa there,” I said, voice cracking, “I’m here to see Norman Lockyer. Maybe you don’t know who I am, but—”

  Never taking her eyes off of me, she spoke into a radio attached to her shoulder. “I’ve got an intruder in the rear kitchen entrance. Samuel Walker.”

  “Chancellor Walker,” I corrected and flashed what I hoped was a disarming grin. “I’m surprised
you know me. Is there like a brochure you all pass around with my name and likeness, or maybe a weekly meeting? I’d like to get in on that action.”

  A voice crackled back. “I’ll notify Johnathan and Alvin.”

  “I know Alvin,” I pointed out. “He can vouch for me.”

  “Put him with the other for the time being,” the voice on the radio continued.

  Other? I frowned. A rough hand patted me down, liberating my phone. With a gesture from the intimidating woman, I walked. We swept around the kitchen, past an ornate dining hall, and to a reinforced door that revealed a stairwell down when I opened it.

  “Down there,” my captor said, gesturing with her chin. An anemic yellow light glowed somewhere beyond where I could see.

  “Right, okay,” I said, starting down the stairs, “but it’s important that you tell Lockyer I’m here and that an attack is—”

  The door slammed closed.

  “No one seems to care about the important things,” I muttered, finally dropping my arms.

  “Samuel?”

  I skipped down a few more steps until I saw most of the basement. There I spied Kate, sitting on a cedar Adirondack chair like the ones I’d shared with Lockyer earlier in the week. She rose as I approached and threw her arms around me in a fierce hug. I gave her a tentative one back, still unsure of who I was now. I couldn’t let Lauren hurt Kate. Under any circumstances.

  Kate separated, a quizzical frown on her face, apparently feeling my reticence. I drew back a few steps, forcing my churning emotions down as I scoped out our makeshift prison. Heavy metal shelves lined most of the walls, full of glass jars brimming with dried fruits and vegetables. An enormous amount of plain cans sat in neat rows on other shelves. The center area, around four enormous support pillars, seemed to be your normal basement decor — patio furniture, badminton sets, a fleet of basket balls, and a few collapsible umbrellas stacked like lumber. Another held toilet paper and towels, all arranged in neat rows.

  “You’re doing the ‘damsel in distress’ routine?” I asked, dropping into one of the other spare deck chairs. Kate sat across from me, cradling one arm against her chest.