This Soul Magic

by Michele Hauf

  “Why do you name me that?” I asked. It wasn’t a name I had heard before. Libby had told me Reichardt Fallowgleam was my name.

  The faery placed her hand over my heart, nodded decisively, then removed it. “I see. You’ve your earthbound soul. You’ve lost all memory of your past.”

  “Was...was that my angel name?”

  She nodded. “Mustn’t tell too much. And yet, you know you were once angel?”

  “Yes, my— The woman who gave me back my soul told me. She knew me when I was a soul bringer.”

  “Soul bringer,” she said on the tingly dulcet tones that seemed to ring in my chest. “We are alike.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “The sidhe are descended from the angels, as are soul bringers. Yet, stuck halfway between the two worlds, we are neither accepted by Above nor this mortal realm. Our souls are similar, as are our powers and hearts. You’ve latent magic clinging to you, Kryatron. You must have taken your soul recently.”

  “A week. So I’ve magic? Like a witch? I don’t feel it. I’ve never felt so weak and ineffectual.”

  “You’ve come to get back that power.” She strode to an altar of branches and vines and touched an incense stick to a flame that wasn’t attached to a candle and which appeared to float upon water.

  “Can I get back what was once mine?”

  She nodded.

  Exciting news! I approached her, but she lifted her head so abruptly I felt as if she’d repulsed me with that simple move, so I remained.

  “I will offer you a bargain.” She turned to face me, splaying out her hands as if to offer a gift. Her palms were decorated with more of the elaborate white arabesques. “I can return to you half the power you once possessed. As well, immortality. You will once again walk with a lightness upon the earth, possess power over the elements—” She paused and opened her eyes. “You are still pure, yes?”

  “Pure?”

  “You’ve not bonded with a woman, such as a soul mate, or otherwise engaged in sexual activity?”

  “Uh, well...Libby and I—we’ve...”

  “Have you loosed your seed within her womb?”

  “No. Uh, we haven’t done that yet.” I didn’t think so, anyway. I really needed to talk to CJ.

  “Good. You must remain pure or I cannot take your soul.”

  I clasped a hand over my heart. “You’ll take my soul?”

  “That is how it works. You hand over your soul and become what you once were. Almost.”

  “But I don’t want to be a soul bringer again. I’ve made friends. I don’t want to leave—”

  “You won’t be a soul bringer, but instead something like me, fixed between Above and this realm. But for that to happen you must relinquish your soul and remain pure.”

  “No sex?”

  She nodded. “Nothing that completes the transaction, so to speak.”

  Which, I assumed, meant I could still kiss Libby and touch her and make her feel good. I just couldn’t— The rest was a fuzzy notion I wanted to entertain.

  Yet to have the power I once held, and immortality? I could be with Libby forever. And she would surely appreciate my renewed strength. I could finally be the man she needed.

  “I need to think about this.”

  The faery lifted a brow.

  “It’s a big decision.”

  “So quickly you’ve succumbed to mortal indecision. Very well. You have forty-eight mortal hours to bring me that which will transfer your soul. It should be an object you have, something that binds the soul to your mortal body.”

  “What could that be?”

  She shrugged. “Perhaps a feather?”

  “I have a feather!”

  “Very good. Return to me, Kryatron, Angel of the Seventh Soul, and I will grant you your greatest desire.”

  I nodded and headed outside, picking up speed toward the river Seine until finally I dared to look back. I saw no winged beings. Perhaps the ointment had worn away from beneath my eyes.

  “Immortality,” I said with wonder.

  It was a prize that rang sweetly in my newly beating heart. But to sacrifice my soul again? What would be the ramifications?

  Libby had loved me before, when I’d had no soul. Hell, I’d had a glass heart that hadn’t even beaten when she had fallen in love with me. Surely she would continue to love me if I ransomed my soul again?

  But what was love, and would I know it if I felt it—and ultimately, miss it if I lost it?

  * * *

  This cleaning job had taken us to an old dark abandoned mansion in the third quarter. Windows were boarded over, floorboards missing here and there, and the few pieces of furniture had been covered with dusty white sheets. The entire place smelled like demons.

  “Demons stink,” I said to Vika, who scrubbed a plastered wall with a spell-enhanced cleaning solution. “Like tar and old dead things.”

  “And you would know what old dead things smell like?” Vika asked over her shoulder.

  “Well...we do clean them up.”

  “Yeah, but these are new dead things. Big difference.”

  She had a point. I sighed and pushed a strand of long red hair up under the white Tyvek head wrap I wore and walked carefully around a sticky black pool of demon blood. “Reichardt and I made out.”

  “Is that so?” Vika’s Tyvek-clad hips swished side to side as she scrubbed vigorously. “Could the man find all the right places?”

  “He’s learning. Gotta love a beginner, though. He may not be suave but his curiosity is well worth the effort.”

  “I probably don’t need details. But I heard he needs some extra study time with Certainly.”

  “Yes, I think Reichardt is talking to CJ now. I’m going to run up with you when we’re finished here, okay?”

  “No problem. So CJ is giving Reichardt man lessons?”

  “The guy’s having trouble getting a grasp on this realm. But not on me.” I shimmied my hips, clad in a white hazmat jumpsuit. “That man really knows how to kiss.”

  “I would have never believed he had it in him,” Vika commented. “He was so cold and emotionless when he was a soul bringer.”

  “Don’t I know it. But not now. He’s on fire. But he still has to learn how to use what God gave him, if you know what I mean.”

  “Interesting.” Setting aside the scrub brush, my sister handed me a bag of remains we’d collected earlier. “CJ should be able to handle any questions he might have. He is a sexual genius.”

  “Yeah? So how goes it with you and the dark witch with the magic hand?”

  CJ wore spellwork tattoos all over his body. His left hand, in particular, was covered with them. Vika had learned early on that hand could do some amazing things to her sexually.

  “I’ll never tell,” Vika said with a wink.

  “You know I hate it when people keep secrets.”

  “You really want the details?”

  I thought about learning the intricacies of my sister’s love life—then shook my head vehemently. “I’d rather clean up demon guts.”

  “Just so.”

  Four

  CJ’s loft was a marvel. Libby had explained that the dark witch had recently been infested with demons after he’d journeyed to Daemonia on a quest for a magic spell. I had no clue what Daemonia was, but it didn’t sound like a party. The whole realm of paranormal creatures was fascinating. I was glad to still be a part of it, even if only by association with Libby, because it gave me some connection to what I’d once been.

  Yet did some of my innate angelic powers exist within me? According to the faery, they did. And the old hag had recognized my angelic origins, as well.

  I felt sure, as an angel, I’d know how to please a woman and not flinch at all the weird things that resulted while touching her. Like my penis getting rock hard—I wanted to do something with it, but I just wasn’t sure what. How embarrassing was that?

  And even more embarrassing? The fact I now knew what it was like to be e
mbarrassed.

  The dark witch greeted me with palms pressed together in a Namaste pose. CJ wore slouchy jeans that covered his bare feet, and a loose red shirt partially open to reveal the many spellwork tattoos he wore on his body. Long black hair, neatly braided, queued down his back. I recalled now Libby had said something about the man being a twin. I’d not met Thoroughly Jones yet.

  CJ gestured with a completely tattooed hand I follow him to the living area where two big comfy gray velvet couches mastered the wide-open area, backed by floor-to-ceiling windows. I tilted my head back, taking in the chandeliers that hung overhead as if constellations.

  “There used to be hundreds,” CJ explained of the dozens of light fixtures, some sporting clear while others black, red and even multicolored crystal. “Kept the demons back, the prismatic light. After I vanquished all the demons from within, Vika made me get rid of most of the light fixtures, which I was very happy to do. You can’t imagine trying to sleep with all those lights on. But we kept a few of the more interesting ones. So.”

  The man stepped closed to me and stretched out his arms as if flexing the muscles. “There’s something I need to get off my chest before we begin.”

  “Very well.” I stood there, waiting for what he had to offer.

  The sting of his fist to my jaw ignited a piercing red pain through the left side of my face and clattered my teeth within my skull. I slapped a palm to the bruised skin and, mouth agape, couldn’t summon a single word.

  “I owed you that. You hurt Vika and Libby when you took their souls.”

  I nodded. Yes, he did owe me this. My cruelties must have been numerous. But—ouch!

  “Now we’re good,” CJ stated. “Whiskey?”

  I shrugged and, still clutching my jaw, nodded yes. I hadn’t tried the spirit and was open to all new things. CJ poured a small amount in a tumbler and handed it to me. Smelled sharp and leathery. I drank it all in one swallow, then gasped as my throat burned. I wanted to scream but any noise my vocal chords could produce was smothered by the wicked brew. It did redirect from the pain in my jaw, though.

  “You should probably take it slow for starters,” CJ said with a humorous tone. “I forget you’re new to everything. Should have started you on the Chartreuse.”

  He tilted the whiskey bottle toward my glass and this time only poured half as much.

  “Why don’t you sit back and close your eyes. That stuff will go straight to your head. Might have to feed you before you go home or Libby will strangle me for getting you drunk.”

  “How can one drink make me drunk?” I asked. I closed my eyes because the crystals overhead suddenly starting dancing.

  “You’re a teetotaler,” CJ said. “And this whiskey is eighty proof. You’ll find out soon enough what drunk means. So Libby said you had some questions?”

  Right, but I had no intention of mentioning my visit to the faery this morning. That, I needed to keep under my hat. No one could help me decide whether or not it was worth sacrificing my soul for immortality.

  Another swallow of whiskey burned, but this time the burn was sweet.

  “I need to talk to a man about...” I stretched my aching jaw, testing. “Things.”

  “I understand. Living with the queen of clean can be annoying at times, eh?”

  “I thought that was your woman’s title? Libby is a goddess, not a queen. But she does tend to have me vacuum and clean a lot. I feel I should be learning more manly stuff. Like how to drive and fix things. The sink is leaking in Libby’s bathroom, and I’m not sure what to do about it. If I was still immortal, could I stare it fixed? Could I do that before?”

  “Stare things fixed?” CJ chuckled. “Probably. You used to wield catoptromancy like a pro. Used your eyes to draw souls out of Vika’s body. But don’t compare your life now to what you had then, because, dude, all you did was ferry souls. Boring.”

  I nodded in agreement, and the shake of my head wobbled my brain inside my woozy skull. “Ohh...”

  “Yeah, I’m going to fix you a sandwich, man. Avocado and sprouts with fresh radish spread. You’ll love it.”

  The witch got up and strolled into the kitchen. Always barefoot and effortlessly casual, that man, like he belonged in another age singing protest songs and smoking hashish. I didn’t know why I pinned CJ that way. I wasn’t even sure what hashish was. I innately knew things about the world and society and how everything worked.

  All save how I worked.

  Correction: today I’d learned my flesh and bone could feel real pain. And I did not like it. Nor did I care for the spinning brain. I remained on the couch, grabbing the seat cushions for stability. Felt like a sturdy rock anchored amid a suddenly swashing sea. Maybe one drink could make me drunk.

  “You need some tools,” CJ called. “There’s a hardware store down the street. A twist of the wrench will tame that leaky pipe in minutes. As for driving, you can take a class, and then have someone teach you behind the wheel.”

  “Libby did say she could teach me driving. I need a job so I can buy a Maserati.”

  “Lofty goals, my man. But I’d suggest mastering more pressing skills before subjecting yourself to the hazards of Parisian drivers. What’s the one thing you most want to learn?”

  “How to please Libby.”

  “Yeah? I get that. She’s a fierce, sexy woman. Doesn’t hide her feelings, either. She’s claimed you, man.”

  “She has. I’m not sure I like that.”

  “Really?”

  “What about all the other women who think me handsome?”

  CJ chuckled again, and I found the laugh annoying. Or was it the sharp triton repeatedly poking my brain and jaw?

  “You think all the women are swooning in your wake, man? Well, maybe. I’m no judge of handsome, but you’re not ugly. But before you go all Casanova on any woman you have to learn the basics. And just because you’re with Libby now doesn’t seal the two of you together forever. Although...don’t say that to her. If I know my St. Charles women, that’s not something you want to casually drop into conversation. Those witches retaliate with painful magic.”

  “I’ve already seen Libby’s jealous side. As she has seen mine.”

  “Protecting your woman? Way to go, man. But don’t overdo it.”

  “Yes, well, she chastised me in front of all at the bazaar. Made me feel awful.”

  “That’s just Libby reacting. Let it pass. She genuinely cares for you. And try to avoid the bazaar in the future. It’s a bunch of old witches hawking mugwort and love spells.”

  And the one witch who had directed me toward my possible fate via a faery.

  “So.” CJ raised a bread knife dramatically. “How to please a woman? Are you telling me in the two thousand years you have existed you’ve never had sex with a woman?”

  “Never.”

  “My balls are turning blue just thinking about that. If you lost your memory how do you know you’ve never had sex?”

  “I just...know. And apparently, I was busy ferrying souls all those millennia. I have never touched female flesh until Libby.”

  “Wow. We have to get you laid, buddy.”

  “Is that like bonding? With a soul mate?”

  “Could be. You think Libby is your soul mate?”

  I shrugged.

  “Yeah, who knows. It’s such a vague term. So the basics!”

  “I think I’ve started to learn the basics by kissing Libby. And she let me kiss her breasts today. I do like breasts.”

  “They are one of life’s finer pleasures. Vika’s are small and so—” CJ paused, one hand in the air before him caressing what I guessed might be the figment of his woman’s breast. “Uh, well, apparently you know.”

  “Touching breasts is great. But every time I kiss or touch Libby, I get...hard. What is that about?”

  “Ah? It’s called a hard-on.” CJ leaned an elbow on the counter, dangling a bread bag. “I’ll explain everything over sandwiches.”

  * * *

 
I accompanied my sister up to CJ’s apartment because I figured I could give Reichardt a ride home. Vika had moved in with CJ right after Reichardt got his soul back. The woman was madly, deeply, truly in love with the dark witch, and the energy she put off was like fireworks. I loved being near her.

  We entered the vast loft to the sound of two guys laughing. I strolled inside and found Reichardt leaning against the kitchen counter, an empty bottle of whiskey in hand.

  He spied me and raised the bottle. “My goddess!”

  “Oh hell, CJ. Did you get him drunk? And what’s that? Does he have a bruise on his jaw?” I cast CJ the evil eye and realized the dark witch was as wasted as Reichardt because he wobbled forward and tripped, landing in Vika’s arms in a sprawl. “Men.”

  “Sorry,” CJ muttered. “I did feed him, but you shouldn’t open a good bottle of whiskey and let it sit. We had to finish it. Mmm, Mistress of My Desires.” He kissed Vika on the neck, and my sister nuzzled a kiss onto one of his eyelids.

  “We were on a cleaning job,” Vika said.

  “And now I’ve a drunk former soul bringer to escort home to sleep it off,” I remarked. “Nice, CJ. You’re lucky Vika won’t let me use magic against you.”

  “Don’t worry,” Vika said, “I’ll make sure he suffers for this one. Let me help you get this big ole lunk down to the car.”

  We lifted Reichardt under his arms and managed the trip down six flights—the elevator hadn’t been in order for weeks—and stuffed him into the passenger seat of the hearse alongside the cleaning equipment.

  “He’s got it bad,” Vika commented. “Don’t be too hard on him.”

  All the way home Reichardt sang about sexy, curvy redheads who delivered hot kisses. I couldn’t help but smile. He had a nice tenor and could carry a tune. Once in his apartment, he passed out as soon as his head hit the couch. I left him a note, but felt sure he’d sleep this one off through the night.

  Picking up the blue feather from the kitchen countertop, I trailed it across my lips. “Wonder if he learned what he needed to know from CJ?”

  Was I asking too much of the man too soon? He’d only been mortal a little over a week. And I’d had my claws in him since before that. Did I dare ask CJ if Reichardt had wondered about other women?