Retribution of Soul: Book 3 of the In-Between

by Senese, Rebecca M.

  Good thing he wasn’t claustrophobic, although the thought of the amount of earth above his head did make his heart pound a little.

  Settle down.

  In front of him, Cath glanced back and he caught sight of the amused smile on her face.

  Of course she could hear his heart beat faster.

  Dammit.

  The last part of the tunnel had been finished with stone. He could almost feel the coolness radiating from them. A large wooden door sat closed at the end. Cath stepped in front of it, hiding the lock from view. Sebastian heard a click and the door scraped against the floor as Cath tugged it open.

  The area beyond had been scooped out to create a larger room. The ceiling still pressed low, a few inches above Sebastian’s head. The floor was still hard packed dirt but grey stone encircled the walls, giving it at least a feeling of strength, that the walls would hold up all that dirt.

  To the left, a single cot sat against the wall. Opposite, a small card table butted against the other wall with a single folding chair. Two battery powered lanterns created dim glows. One sat on the table and the other on the dirt floor beside the cot. A few books sat piled on the table, casting a monumental shadow against the back stone wall.

  Sitting up from the cot, Stan blinked and rubbed his eyes as he focused on the door. Sebastian stepped into the room. He nodded at Cath.

  “Can I have a few minutes alone?” he said.

  She shrugged. “Five. I’ll be back.”

  She swung the door closed. The click of the lock echoed in the tiny room then Sebastian listened to her footsteps as she walked away.

  Locked in.

  With who knew how many pounds of earth above his head?

  Time for answers.

  If he didn’t start screaming himself.

  CHAPTER 4

  Sebastian turned away from the door to study Stan sitting up on the cot. He sat with his feet flat on the ground, knees rising up above the cot with his thin body folded forward. He’d always been thin when Sebastian saw him before but now he looked skeletal, sharp bones and edges sticking out from elbows, shoulders, and knees. Stringy brown hair hung over his high forehead. It looked thinner now. Sebastian could almost see through patches of the brown hair to the man’s scalp. The same granny glasses perched on his thin nose but the lenses were smudged and dirty, as if he couldn’t be bothered to clean them anymore. He wore a shapeless grey t-shirt that hung on his frame and jeans. A belt around his waist looked like it had been hitched to the last hole.

  “Stan,” Sebastian said.

  “Yeah,” Stan said. “I don’t know anything more. I tol’ ‘em everything.”

  He pressed his hands together. They shook on his knees. He bowed his head. His glasses slipped a fraction down his nose. He didn’t push them up.

  Sebastian wanted to step back, wanted to bang on the door to call Cath back. But five minutes, he’d asked and been granted five minutes in this hell hole.

  What the hell was he doing?

  “Let me talk to him.”

  Charlie’s voice sounded from behind him. Sebastian turned his head a bit.

  Charlie leaned against the wood door. In the dim light, he almost looked solid.

  How?

  “Relax and let me talk.”

  Sebastian shook his head. Crazy, this was crazy. But hadn’t his whole life been crazy for the past few years? All because he’d been too stupid to watch where he was going during a late night walk home from a party, leading him to blunder into a patch of woods and get attacked by a vampire.

  Crazy had become the norm of his life.

  His shoulders sagged.

  Okay. Go ahead and talk.

  He saw Charlie straighten from the door and take a step forward. Another step and Charlie was within an inch of him. From this distance, the illusion of solidity shattered. Sebastian could see the door through Charlie’s face. Then the image blurred even more as Charlie closed that thin gap.

  Coldness prickled Sebastian’s skin. His nerves tingled. He tasted a sourness, a heaviness, as if he’d taken in a mouthful of dirt. He wanted to spit it out but his mouth wouldn’t move. His body wouldn’t move. A coldness stole over him but his teeth couldn’t even chatter, not under his command. But then his body moved. He could feel his foot sliding along the dirt floor, turning him back toward Stan.

  But Sebastian wasn’t doing it.

  How?

  Charlie!

  He could feel Charlie inside, a cold presence overlaying him. His mouth opened, and it was Charlie who spoke.

  “How’s it going, Stan?”

  Even to his own ears, Sebastian’s voice sounded different. Stan started, staring at him.

  “What?” he said.

  “I was just wondering how it’s going? Thanks for coming to my funeral, by the way. Nice of you. Even wore a suit but you couldn’t bother with a tie?” Charlie shook Sebastian’s head.

  Stan leaned away from him. His hands gripped the edges of the cot. His shoulders hunched. A sour sweat smell wafted from him.

  “Whadda you mean? Your funeral? What are you talking about?”

  Sebastian felt his lips curl into a smile but it wasn’t his smile. He knew what this one looked like, the lopsided, dopey grin.

  Too bad he didn’t have the shaggy blond hair to go with it.

  “You know what I’m talking about, man, and you know who you’re talking to.”

  Stan yanked his feet up onto the cot and scurried away until his back hit the stone wall behind him. He wrapped his arms around his legs. His entire body trembled.

  Sebastian took a step forward.

  “See? I knew you knew it was me, Stan.”

  Stan’s head shook from side to side. “No, no, it can’t be. Dead, you’re dead!”

  “Doesn’t mean I can’t drop in to say howdy once in a while. Howdy, Stan!”

  Sebastian’s hand lifted and waved in a crazed blur.

  Stan yelped and buried his face down in his knees, lifting his arms to shield himself.

  “Ah, don’t be like that. Be sociable.” Sebastian’s hand reached out and grabbed Stan’s hair. He yanked the man’s head up.

  “I want to talk to you, Stan.”

  “No, no!” Stan’s wail echoed off the stone wall.

  “I want you to explain to me why you betrayed me, Stan, why you betrayed my friends.”

  “I... I...” Stan shook his head. Tears leaked from his eyes. Drool frothed from his lips and sprayed in the air with every shake of his head.

  “Explain to me, Stan!”

  You’re not getting anywhere. You’re just scaring the shit out of him.

  Inside, Sebastian felt Charlie’s coldness deepen.

  Serves him right.

  Did it? Before he’d come down to this hole Sebastian would have been inclined to agree, especially since Stan had given the book to Constantine, but now seeing the state of the man... At what point did the means become even too horrible to justify the ends?

  Stop being a pussy, Sebastian. You know what he did.

  Yes, he knew what Stan had done. But did it justify tormenting him?

  He’s hiding something. I can tell. I can get it from him.

  Beneath the sourness of Stan’s sweat and the sickliness of his blood, Sebastian could smell how it all twisted and mixed into that stench of fear that he knew so well. And just at the edges, he recognized that odor of lying.

  Stan was hiding something.

  But was Charlie really the best one to find it out?

  He was dead after all. Sebastian could feel how he’d lost the capacity to deal with any kind of subtly with the living.

  Charlie’d become a hammer and was going to pound on everything.

  He could pound Stan into dust before Stan could tell them anything.

  Back off, Charlie. Let me do it.

  No! He betrayed me!

  You were already DEAD! He couldn’t betray you anymore. Now back OFF!

  He pushed at the coldness insi
de. It shuddered, trying to hold fast but then began to crumble. The edges twisted and frayed. It trembled then shattered. He felt it wash through him. A moment later it was gone.

  He could feel his body again.

  His fingers wiggled at his command.

  He was alone with himself.

  He saw Charlie standing at the edge of the cot. His face twisted with a frown, his jaw clenched. He glared at Sebastian. Sebastian felt the coldness of his anger steal across the air.

  Let me do it my way.

  Charlie’s lips thinned.

  Sebastian stepped forward and reached out for Stan. His hand settled on the man’s shoulder. He felt the bones right through the thin fabric of his t-shirt, as if the t-shirt were the only skin he wore.

  “Explain to me, Stan.”

  Stan flinched and looked up.

  “It’s you, not him.”

  “It’s me now, Stan. But Charlie’s still here and he wants to know. So do I.”

  Stan shook his head. “There’s nothing else. Nothing else.”

  “Tell me, Stan. Just tell me.”

  Stan shook his head again.

  Sebastian focused, preparing to Influence him, but the feeling shifted even as he pressed. His hand felt like it began to melt into Stan’s shoulder, pressing through the fabric into his bones, his own skin shifting and changing. The dim lighting in the room darkened. Were the lanterns running out? He blinked, tried to look around.

  The room was different.

  Stone walls gone. Hard wood beneath his feet. Across the expanse of a twenty foot long dining room, he saw a bank of windows. Heavy burgundy curtains hung from the ceiling, dropping to within an inch of the polished, dark wood floor. Rich cream wall paper covered the walls, almost glowing in the dim lighting from several candelabras set along a long oak dining table. Twelve carved chairs were set around the table, as if ready for a meal that would never come.

  In the dim lighting, Sebastian could see the dust coating the table. He lifted a hand

  (not his hand)

  and touched the curtains. Grit and dirt coated the curtains. He saw smeared glass behind them before he let the curtains go. It fell back into place, a single puff of dust rising into the air and making his nose

  (Stan’s nose)

  itch.

  At the end of the room, a large oak door creaked open. It scraped across the bottom of the floor then stopped three quarters of the way open.

  Constantine stepped into the room.

  Behind him, walked Alexa.

  Sebastian felt his own heart start to pound. It felt like a distant thing, an echo somewhere. The image before him wavered. Constantine’s form in black pants and a dark maroon shirt blurred.

  He was losing the image!

  Relax, he had to relax. He wasn’t really here. It wasn’t really him and this wasn’t really happening. He wasn’t quite sure what was happening but he had a suspicion.

  Stan.

  He’d been holding Stan’s shoulder.

  And now he was here.

  No. Now Stan was here.

  As he relaxed, the image before him solidified. Constantine stepped toward the table and pulled out the head chair. With some smooth move, he reclined into it, stretching his long legs in front of him. His hands folded on his chest. He looked down his long nose at Sebastian. An amused grin curled his lips.

  Alexa leaned against the back of the chair, her hip almost brushing Constantine’s shoulder. One arm draped over the curved back of the chair. Her hand almost touched Constantine’s hair. She wiggled her fingers as if to play with his hair. Her head tilted the way Sebastian remembered whenever she’d been thinking about a difficult problem at school. Sometimes her tongue would poke out from between her lips. Her hair still had the same winsome pixie cut, tapered in gentle wisps around her face. Her glasses perched on her nose.

  But Sebastian knew she didn’t need them.

  Vampires didn’t need glasses.

  “I understand you wish to negotiate,” Constantine said. His voice boomed through the room.

  “Yeah,” Stan’s voice said. “That’s right.”

  “You have what we want,” Constantine said.

  “Sure I do,” Stan’s voice said.

  The smile on Constantine’s face grew. “What is to stop us from taking it from you?”

  “It’s not here. I don’t have it on me.”

  Constantine laughed. “So what do you want, human?”

  Sebastian turned toward the table and moved to a chair just down from Constantine. He pulled it out and sat down. The feel of Stan’s body in the chair felt odd. Thinner, ganglier, elbows resting at a different spot from where Sebastian’s would have been, feet stretching out at a different angle.

  Weird.

  But being inside someone else’s memory was the essence of weird.

  “I want to be like you,” Stan said.

  The smile faded from Constantine’s face. He sat up, leaning forward. Even in the memory, Sebastian felt the power of that personality, the energy he pulsated at Stan. Even Stan, being only human and not as sensitive as an In-Between, seemed to feel it. He trembled in his chair.

  “You want to be vampire,” Constantine said. “Why?”

  “I don’t want to die.”

  The words blurted out of Stan.

  Constantine tilted his head. Shadows carved across his face, accentuating the beard around his mouth. His black hair fell across his forehead but didn’t impede the blackness of his eyes.

  “Would I have to kill?” Stan said.

  Constantine’s lips curled upward. “Not necessarily. A vampire can survive on a pint of blood per night.”

  Sebastian felt Stan’s body sag in relief.

  “But you must give me a good reason to turn you,” Constantine continued. “Tell me why you should join me. Where you will fit in my plan.”

  “Plan?”

  Constantine leaned back in his chair, again folding his hands on his chest. “You think I want this book for decoration? Of course I have a plan for its use.”

  “What... what plan?”

  Beside Constantine’s chair, Alexa stirred. Her fingers tightened around the top end of the chair. Her hip moved away from Constantine’s shoulder as she balanced on the balls of her feet. Her other hand curled into claws by her side. Her head lowered, mouth open, revealing the tips of her fangs. She looked ready to pounce.

  Constantine held up a hand.

  She settled back. Her hand uncurled. Her mouth closed.

  But she still poised, ready.

  “My plan,” Constantine said. He glanced up at the ceiling. “I will select who I will turn, those who will be useful in the new world. Others I will enslave, tie to us. They will be bound to the clan, useful for any work in the daylight or for food.”

  “Not In-Between,” Alexa said.

  “No, of course not, not In-Between, but marked. With the power from the book, I can change how we take them. Make them compliant.”

  His gaze moved back from the ceiling, back to Stan.

  “Tell me why I should not make you one of those.”

  Sebastian felt Stan’s heartbeat speed up. Sweat trickled down his sides. His hands gripped the wooden arms of the chair. The wood felt slick under his palms.

  “I can be useful,” Stan said. “I’m a computer wiz. I can hack into anything, help with anything. You’ll need a way to keep track of everything. I can help you do that.”

  “You really think I have need of your gadgets?” Constantine said.

  Stan’s mouth tasted dry and sour. He nodded in fast, jerking motions.

  Constantine nodded. “Maybe I will. Yes, maybe I will. Never let it be said I don’t keep up with the times. Right, my dear?”

  He lifted his hand toward Alexa beside him. She smiled and slipped her fingers into his palm. His hand tightened around them and yanked her hand down to him. A gesture of control and dominance. Her body jerked forward. She stumbled, bumping her hip against the arm of the c
hair. Her knees wavered but she stayed upright.

  “Yes, Constantine,” she said.

  He smiled, nodded and brought her wrist to his lips. His tongue licked the inside of it, then his lips fastened on. They curled back and Sebastian caught a glimpse of fang just before they sank into the flesh of Alexa’s wrist.

  He jerked away.

  Grey stone walls. Dim lighting. He felt Stan’s bony shoulder under his hand. He yanked his hand away, stepped back. His feet caught under each other, making him stumble. His arms pinwheeled, trying to stop his momentum, but he felt himself falling.

  He landed on his rump. Pain flashed up his tailbone as he hit the hard dirt floor. He gasped at the force of it.

  Stan stared at him.

  “They had a plan,” Sebastian said, “to turn people and enslave others as food. They were going to use the book to do it. To take over the whole world.”

  Stan’s mouth dropped open. The muscles on his face slackened.

  “How did you? How did you know that?”

  “You just told me,” Sebastian said. “You just remembered it.”

  Stan recoiled, pressing back against the stone wall. “How? You can’t do that. How did you?”

  He shook his head, pressing his hands to his mouth. Sebastian got up from the floor. His butt ached as he moved. His legs trembled a little. Good job. He managed to injure himself without any help from someone attacking him.

  He took a step toward Stan but the man stiffened. A keening wail sounded from behind his hands. He pressed harder against the stone wall as if trying to melt into it. Sweat dripped down his forehead, dampening his stringy hair. His eyes widened until Sebastian could see the whites.

  He wouldn’t get anything else out of Stan now.

  He moved to the heavy wood door and knocked. A few moments later he heard the click and it scraped against the dirt as Cath pulled it open.

  “You’ve still got another minute,” she said.

  Sebastian shook his head. He looked back at Stan. The man was now rocking forward and back, still shaking his head.

  “That’s enough,” Sebastian said. “I’ve used up enough time.”

  He stepped out of the cell and waited for Cath to slam the door shut behind him.

  CHAPTER 5

  “Is it just me or did old Stan not look his best?”