"Safe?"
He nodded. "Please come with me. There's someone I think you should meet."
She took an emotional step back, and the shadows went a shade darker. When she concentrated on them, she could make out the vaguest borders of something that seemed to extend beyond him. Still, whatever it was, she wasn't going to follow its host blindly to the source.
She slid back in her seat to let the man know she didn't appreciate his attempt to reach out to her.
"Father Chambers is a righteous man. It's his mission—our mission—to help those who need it most. No one will judge you. We're all family in the eyes of the Church. You don't need to live on the streets."
"I'm not living on the streets." She crossed her arms, creating an emotional barrier between the two of them. "I share a place with a couple friends."
Of course, this was only partially true. She wouldn't call her roommates friends, per se, but they got along well enough. J. D. owned the apartment, and rent came in many forms, but it was a roof over her head. She wondered what kind of connection the shadow looming over Kevin had with this "Father Chambers." Most pastors she'd come across had good intentions—but Drew knew all too well that the road to Hell was, indeed, paved with good intentions, and good intentions came in many forms.
Never before, however, had she seen such a darkness fall under the guise of religion. She imagined Jim Jones's followers had similar shadows following them around. The source had probably been quite the sight to anyone who could perceive all that lay beyond the physical.
She had never known any different. She'd been born that way, the trait inherited through her father. As much as she loved him, he was a wretched thing. He'd tapped her mother dry when Drew was only four, and her memories of the woman were faint at best. She'd had a pretty, friendly smile, and dark hair like Drew's. She'd also been sickly, skinny, and perpetually exhausted. He'd done that to her, she would learn when she was a little older.
Her first stepmother was also a kind soul, and Drew's father had taken to keeping mistresses on the side in order to preserve the marriage as long as he could. Drew could tell he'd loved that one, his second wife, but eventually she fell ill too. Even though he knew the cause, he let her believe her "mystery illness" had to have a name and a cure. He took her to all the best doctors to keep up the ruse. Maybe he truly believed modern medicine could save her.
She died when Drew was ten.
When eventually her father explained their affliction, he did so in a way that made it sound exceptional and elite. Her mother had been a "mundane," like most of the rest of the world. They, on the other hand, were special. Being special had its price, though, and theirs meant a slow decay of anything that remained in their presence long enough, the life around them ever feeding their special souls. They could take extra through physical contact, and even greater amounts when that contact was intimate, but extra only grew the beast hidden within, and the larger it got, the more it needed to feed.
Drew had protested when her father decided to wed for the third time, but he couldn't help himself. He came home smelling like a different mistress every night, and still his wife slowly fell victim to that terrible sickness that had taken the previous two. When that woman grew skeletal and bedridden, Drew decided she could take no more. She ran away from home at fifteen and never looked back.
Of course, she'd finally understood her father's plight when, not too long after, she lost her virginity to a man who'd so selflessly taken her in. The feeling that had come when their bodies had come together was electrifying. She drank her first lover's soul until she was senseless, lost in the bliss of psychic intoxication. It didn't take long to see the physical effects—his sunken eyes, the subtle weight loss, his waning energy levels—and so she left, determined she wouldn't follow in her father's footsteps. Prostitution had seemed the logical solution, but it had only made matters worse.
She'd cut herself off cold-turkey several months ago. Those around her had assumed she was detoxing from some hidden addiction.
In part, they were correct.
"Here," Kevin said, pulling her from her reverie with the offering of a business card. "If you change your mind, our doors are always open."
He stood, leaving the card on the table before walking off.
Although she wasn't going to take a chance at becoming infected with whatever darkness circulated through Kevin's soul, Drew couldn't restrain her curiosity over what exactly it was. It didn't seem to notice when she threw a psychic tether over the thing and proceeded to follow its path astrally through her mind's eye.
Chapter 11
Kevin walked close to three blocks before hopping into the back of an outdated minivan. Another young man sat in the driver's seat, listening to gospel music. The man looked relaxed, but as soon as Kevin closed the sliding door, he gave an impatient sigh.
"Nothing, eh?"
Kevin sat but ignored his seatbelt. "A couple prospects."
The other man scoffed. "‘Prospect' don't mean nothing, and you know it. Unless you get 'em straight from the street, you ain't gonna see 'em again. Satan's got way too strong a pull in these parts."
"I choose to give people a little more credit."
"Then you choose to be a fool." The man looked around. "What the heck is keeping Naomi? Did you happen to see her out there?"
"Maybe she got lucky."
"Maybe."
Drew took a close astral look at the driver, not surprised to find he had a similar, yet much less pronounced, shadowy presence hanging over him.
Alongside them, traffic slowed, and the men both showed discomfort when they became boxed in by the gridlock.
Kevin stretched to look, frowning. "Must be an accident up ahead."
"One less lost soul to claim," muttered the driver.
A petite young woman with a darkness to her soul that rivaled Kevin's led an emaciated young man to the van. He paused when she opened the sliding door, but she was able to urge him inside before hopping into the front passenger seat.
The thin man had a dull aura, one that indicated either starvation or heavy drug abuse. Based on his appearance, this man suffered from both.
The driver started the engine and turned on the left-turn signal. He watched the slow-moving traffic continue to pass, no one offering him an "in." With a grumble, he made an aggressive move that would have led to a sideswipe had the car attempting to pass not stopped.
"Watch it, will you?" Naomi snapped.
The driver mumbled something under his breath.
"What is your problem today?"
He cut through the traffic, his hands tight on the wheel. "You don't find it just a little frustrating that, while Joseph and Father's other chosen few are working—really working—on saving mankind from itself, we're out here doing this?"
"This is important work." Kevin exchanged a quick glance with Naomi. "This is the most important work."
The junkie beside him looked even more unsure about his company. He glared at Naomi. "I think … I think I'm just gonna go."
"No, you don't want to do that." Naomi turned to face him. "Don't let this grouch change your mind. We've got food, a warm bed. At least get one good meal in you before you decide you don't want to stay."
"He gets this way whenever we don't beat rush hour," Kevin said. "Relax. You're in good hands."
The junkie sat back, but his muscles remained tense. The van crawled through the traffic, seemingly catching every red light. The driver visibly struggled to keep his cool, but he didn't say another word for the rest of the drive.
Drew followed the van to a church parking lot. Opposite the building was another large structure with a sign reading, CHILDREN OF LIGHT COMMONS. She continued to follow Kevin when he parted ways with the others and crossed to the church.
Drew looked all around, noting a strange smudge, one similar to the driver's, looming atop every soul on the property. For a phenomenon so prominent, she would've thought she'd have seen it before. Was
there a new kind of creature in town—or was it perhaps some kind of parasite that had only begun to take hold in this realm?
The chapel's interior was well lit, candelabra and overhead fixtures fitted with artificial candles keeping the shadows in every corner at bay. With the help of some well-placed electric lights, the stained glass windows on either side continued to glow their sacred pictures despite the setting sun. Kevin hurried through the room, to a hallway leading to a set of offices.
He knocked on a closed door simply marked "Father."
"Busy," a man yelled through the door.
"Father, we succeeded in bringing home one more. Naomi and Joshua took him to the kitchen. Shall I assign him a job?"
"Hold on just a second." After a few moments of rustling, a young woman opened the door, wiping at her mouth. She looked up at Kevin, her eyes revealing a mesh of confusion and complacency, before quietly hurrying down the hall.
Another young woman passed by. Her aura had a strange spark to it, and despite the dull shadow that had sullied it, the emanation shone large and bright. Even more, it seemed to be in a state of constant flux. Like the shadowy smudges tainting every soul there, this woman's soul had an unfamiliar yet distinctly unique appearance. Whatever was going on, this girl was no "mundane," but she was also far from being a part of the darkness's source.
Drew considered following the creature as she left down the hall, but she quickly changed her mind when Kevin went into the office and she could see their "Father's" face.
The first thing she noticed was his striking blue eyes. The second was the mass of darkness that swam throughout and all around his thick, soupy aura. The darkness reached out to the shadow over Kevin's head. In turn, Kevin's massive, dark aura reached out to touch the pastor's, fortifying its murky stain before retreating to its source.
What the hell is going on here?
"Please have a seat."
Kevin sat.
Father sat back in his own chair, his fingers coming together as a steeple in front of his stern face. His eyes squinted a little and the darkness grew more active. Whatever he was contemplating, it wasn't good. Finally, he leaned forward and propped his elbows on the heavy wooden desk.
"I've decided to keep newcomers off the food line for the time being. Feed him and offer him a bed in the dorm. In a few days, give him a shift mopping floors and scrubbing toilets. Remind him that idle hands are the Devil's playground."
Kevin nodded. "Yes, Father."
"I'll need you in the dorms, too."
"But Father—"
"We've got a lot coming up, and everyone is going to get quite a bit busier in the days to come. I need you to do your part, help keep everyone in their place. I can trust you to do that, can't I?"
"Of course, Father."
Even through the buffer between them—the physical distance bridged through by Drew's astral tether—the scent of deception flooded the room. There was something Kevin wasn't telling the man, and Drew could only presume it had to do with the darkness.
Father stood, made his way around the desk, then gave Kevin a pat on the back before leading him to the door.
Kevin took the hint that it was time to take his leave. When he passed Father, moving within a foot of the man, the darkness became so strong Drew had to fight the urge to pull away.
Another man turned the corner at the end of the hall, and—much like Kevin's—the darkness embodied his entire aura. This time, it was even more profound, tendrils reaching out, writhing, like the arms of an octopus. They reminded her of the psychic threads she'd used when she was actively feeding, and something about the sight filled her with an overwhelming sense of dread. A young woman passed him, and the psychic tendrils reached for her aura, penetrating its outer layers and darkening the smudge looming over her head. She didn't seem to notice. He paused when he spotted Drew. The strange man's eyes met Drew's astral ones, and his lips curled into a curious smile.
There were numerous types of others. Drew had seen angels, fey, goblins, warlocks, and more. Hell, her pimp was a demon. Still, nothing had ever caught her attention, and instilled as much fear in her, as this one did. He charged toward her, his tendrils shooting ahead of him, and she pulled herself from the hallway before their auras could meet.
In an instant, their connection broke and she sat staring across the fast food dining room. Whatever she'd encountered at the church, it was the most evil entity she'd ever come across. Even more, she had a feeling that, as saturated as Father's soul was, he'd merely been tainted by a larger source—and that man in the hallway had been practically dripping with it. Whether he was the cause or just another vessel, he was a force to be reckoned with. Something terrible was infecting these people, something too great for her to ignore.
She wasn't sure what she could do to stop it, but she knew she needed to do something.
Chapter 12
"Ugh. You there! Can't you get me some clean silverware? I dig the whole greasy spoon thing you got going on here, but you do know the spoons aren't actually meant to be greasy, right?" Polly didn't care for mess; she felt that people should be clean about whatever it was they were doing.
Even when she was torturing victims in Hell, she tried to have another prisoner nearby to clean up the blood and effluence before it got too thick and gory. It had the added bonus of cowing the next victim in line, which made her job far easier.
"Okay, demon. You were right about Hershel. I don't know how you knew, but he actually did the things you showed me in that vision." Lenny sat across from Polly and leveled her with a gaze rife with reluctant respect.
"I knew because his soul is bound to Hell. It belongs to us. I can see the seal of Hell on it, and therefore I can see everything he has ever done. Obviously, I'm no saint." Polly grinned broadly at her own joke and continued, "But I can't stand to see anyone hurting kids. I know, as a demon, this appears to make me look weak. The truth is this: Kids who have had a rough life—filled with these sorts of bastards—lose small bits of their souls. It makes them less attractive to both Heaven and Hell, and they're left to drift through the afterlife just as they did in life. I hate seeing that shit." The waitress came and set down Polly's burger, fries, and chocolate shake. Polly nodded her thanks and grabbed the bottle of ketchup.
"You want anything, hon?" The waitress licked the tip of her pencil and waited for Lenny to order.
"Go ahead, I'm buying," Polly said as she nodded at the shifter.
"I suppose I'll take the pancakes. Blueberry, please. Oh, and a side of bacon."
"Good choice. And to drink?" The waitress licked the tip of her pencil again as if it needed the moisture in order to write.
"Pepsi, please?"
"Is Coke okay?"
"It'll do, thanks."
"I'll put your order in, should be up in fifteen minutes. Did you want me to keep yours warm?" she asked Polly.
"No." Polly squinted at the name tag. "Thanks, Susan, but I think I'll just eat mine while she waits."
"Oh, uh, okay then. Is there anything else I can getcha?"
"No, thank you." Polly turned her attention to her burger. It was thick, juicy, and absolutely divine.
"Welcome, ma'am." Susan turned and headed for the order window quicker than she normally would have. The demon watched and grinned.
"So, are you going to just sit there and act like a diva or are you going to talk to me about Father and what is going on, aside from the obvious?"
"Patience is a virtue, shifter." Polly took another bite of her burger.
"Will you stop with all the shifter crap? I have a name and I would appreciate it if you would use it."
"Oh-ho! Look at you growing your fangs. Cute." Polly let some hellfire flash through her eyes and the shifter settled down some.
"What the hell is that?"
"Quite apt. It's hellfire."
"Doesn't that shit burn?"
"That ‘shit' is running through my veins constantly. And no, it doesn't burn me, but I can
use it to burn others."
"What, like Superman's laser vision?"
"Not exactly, but we'll go with that if it makes you happy. Now, let's talk Demas." Polly settled back in the booth, one long arm stretched out along the back of her plush seat. Her phone rang, and she spat out a curse and grabbed it. Seeing the number, she turned to Lenny, "I have to take this. Be right back." Then she rose and walked to the other side of the empty diner.
"Lucy, what's going on? I just got the shifter to agree to help us with Demas."
"We may have to put Demas on the back burner for a while. I need you for something bigger than that little bastard."
"What's going on?" Polly felt a surge of worry. Something hadn't been right in Hell for months, and she had let Lucy know. She'd been kept out of the loop on what was being done about it, though, and that bothered her some.
"We've got a third player in the soul game."
"What? Are you fucking with me?"
"No. I talked with the other side and we aren't the only ones missing souls. Both Charon and Peter have confirmed that souls are not reaching either Hell or Heaven in quite the numbers they should."
"Heaven, too? Fuck."
"My words exactly, dear. I need you to meet up with your contacts and go over the details. I want you on this now. Demas is an annoyance, I grant you that, but this is a catastrophe waiting to happen."
"Will do. What do you think is going on?"
"I have no clue. I've never seen anything like this."
In shock, Polly's fingers trembled as she spoke, "Never?"
"Apollyon?" Lucy sounded nervous. It made Polly uncomfortable.
"Yes?"
"Be careful. Whoever is behind this has some real power, and I would hate to lose you, old friend."
"You be careful, too. If you get uncomfortable, don't hesitate to call me. I'll pop on home and stay by your side."
"I'm already uncomfortable. The loss of souls is weakening me somewhat. Don't ever relay that or I will rip open your belly and feast on your innards."
Cast In Blood: Revelations Series Book 1: Page 5
