by J. Stone
Lockhart chuckled, blood starting to drip from his nose. “She’s n-n-not in here,” he told her, tapping his chest. “I d-didn’t kill her.”
Petronila grimaced at him. “N-n-n-nonsense,” the beldam mocked with a sneer. “If you didn’t kill her, who did?”
“I did,” Wynonna said, appearing from behind the beldam and holding the knife out in front of her. Wasting no time, his apprentice poured her canteen’s water over the blade. “And, you’ll be joining her.”
Wynonna then plunged the knife into the highest point of Petronila’s body that she could reach. This happened to be her lower gut, but it didn’t matter where the blade landed. With the purified water coating it, that would do the trick as good as anywhere else.
Petronila curled forward, clutching the wound. “How dare you? I will rip you to shreds!”
Lockhart wouldn’t allow that. Free from the slender beldam’s spellwork, he picked up his revolver and fired a shot right into Petronila’s neck. She stopped on the spot and plummeted backward, falling into a chasm at the edge of the cave.
Only one left, and she had finally stopped flailing in the bodies, having put out the fire. Alviva stood up, skin charred and clothes burned off, revealing all of her sickening flesh. She growled, ignoring Wynonna, and headed straight for Lockhart.
Pulling the trigger, the vespari fired another shot. With all his injuries and energy sapped, his aim wasn’t as good as he’d hoped. The runed bullet landed in Alviva’s shoulder. It wouldn’t even slow her down, but if they could get the water in the wound, she’d finally die.
“Wynonna!” Lockhart shouted. “Water!”
His apprentice nodded and gripped her canteen, ready to splash the beldam with water. Alviva, however, refused to give up so easily. Weaving a spell between her hands, Alviva tried to raise Wynonna into the air with an almost invisible force - only a metallic sparkle of light appeared in the air for an instant. Due to her spell resistance from killing Estrild, however, she only got the vespari about a foot off the ground.
Wynonna, still having a chance, tried to fling the water, but Alviva stepped back, dodging the attempt. She then growled again and stepped forward. Her spells were less effective against Wynonna, but there was nothing stopping her from physically hurting his apprentice, and that’s exactly what she did. Using those fat limbs, she reared back and slammed her whole arm into Wynonna, knocking her backward yet again. The force threw her against the rocky wall of the cave, and she plummeted to the ground, no longer moving.
Wynonna was out, and he was on his own now. He only had a single runed bullet left. He had a broken arm, and he couldn’t even stand. As Alviva continued toward him once more, Lockhart placed his revolver down on the ground, instead stuffing his hand into his pocket and gripping his canteen.
Lockhart then tossed his canteen of water in the air and waited for it to align perfectly, while picking his revolver up again. When it did, the vespari fired his last shot. The runed bullet pierced the canteen and continued straight through until it struck Alviva square in the skull. The beldam stopped mid step and clutched at her head. As the bullet had passed through the canteen, it collected the sanctified water, enough so that it had the power to kill this last beldam.
Alviva stomped one foot down, shaking the whole cavern. “You… can’t… win… She promised!”
Lockhart didn’t say anything. He couldn’t. He was too tired. He’d barely been able to toss the canteen or aim the gun. All he could do was hold himself up to watch. Alviva fell, still clutching her forehead.
“Petronila promised!” Alviva shouted with her final breath.
The same black and red necrosis that had overtaken the other beldams now consumed Alviva, stretching out from the watery bullet’s penetration point. They’d done it. The beldam coven was no more.
***
Lockhart dropped his gun, collapsing backward onto the ground. Exhausted and his body broken, he knew only one thing. He was still alive. They were all dead. Why then did his chest still burn? The vespari pushed his shirt aside to see the Caustic Brand still seared into his skin. He’d killed them all. Why had the spell not abated?
That’s when he heard some rocks shuffle. He paused and looked over in that direction. With a gulp, he realized that one of the beldams wasn’t dead. It was where Petronila had fallen, and where she should’ve perished. Had she somehow survived the blade covered in water? True to his suspicions, Petronila rose from the crevice and started to creep toward Lockhart, smiling all the way.
“You sh-sh-should be dead,” he told her.
“I’m n-n-n-n-not,” the woman taunted him. “Yet anyway. Your vile apprentice will be responsible for my death.” She coughed, spitting blood out and looked around. “Where is she?”
“What a-are you? You’re no b-beldam.”
“You’re right,” Petronila said, creeping ever closer, one hand clutching the wound in her gut, the other holding her neck where he shot her. She tilted her head to the side and stared into his eyes. “But I think you know what I am.”
Lockhart glared up at her. “A soul eater.”
Petronila smiled. “See? You didn’t need my help, and you didn’t even stutter. Accolades all around!”
Everything made sense now. Lockhart had wondered how a beldam could’ve known magic like the Caustic Brand. A shapeshifting soul eater would’ve come by it much easier than a beldam. She simply played the role of a beldam, using the coven as a cover. Now, she had all those souls from the monsters he’d killed over the years. He’d made her strong, but she was still going to die. Soul eater or not, that wound would kill her; it just wouldn’t keep her dead. Runed water wouldn’t finish her kind off. There was only one way to kill a soul eater, and that was going to take a different tack altogether.
Petronila pointed at Lockhart’s chest and smiled. “You’ve got Alviva in there now too, don’t you? I think I’ll enjoy devouring her almost as much as I’ll enjoy gnawing on your soul.”
Before Petronila could begin siphoning off any more of his strength, however, a groan came from the other side of the room. The shifting of the piles of body parts followed it. Petronila glared in that direction.
“Your apprentice,” she hissed. The soul eater raised her hands to see how much blood had poured against them, pooling in her palms, and she grimaced.
Without saying anything further, she turned away and limped off, heading deeper into the cave system. As she disappeared, Wynonna pushed her way out of the pile and got to her feet, coughing and sputtering.
“Gross,” she muttered, followed by a series of dry heaves.
The gore covered her whole body, and she tried to fling it off her. As she did, she caught sight of Lockhart and ran over to him.
“Cory!” she said, kneeling down beside him. “You okay?”
He nodded slowly.
Wynonna then looked around the room. “You kill the last one? Alviva dead?”
Another nod.
“Wild! Then, it’s over,” she said, as relief washed over her face. “You’ll live.”
Lockhart shook his head. “P-Petronila.”
Wynonna shrugged. “She’s dead. Knife in the gut. Bullet in her throat.”
“No. Sh-she’s not a beldam.”
“What?”
“Soul e-eater. A shapeshifter. They--”
Wynonna nodded. “Yeah, I know what they are. Read about them in your book.”
“Good.”
“Which way did she go? I have to finish this.” Before he could answer, she saw the blood trail Petronila had left behind, and she stood up to go after her.
“No,” Lockhart told Wynonna, grabbing her wrist. “You c-can’t. She’s t-too strong.”
“I can do this,” she replied. “I read how to kill a soul eater. That rune you--”
He shook his head. “N-no. It’s not that s-simple. She’s fed too m-much. And sh-she’s going to take my s-soul too.”
“Not if I kill her first, Cory,” she said, att
empting to tug her arm free from his grip. “So let me go.”
Lockhart held tight. “I’m d-d-dead. I’ve a-accepted it, but you’ll d-die too if you go after her like this.”
“I can’t just let her go. She’s too dangerous.”
He smiled up at her. “I know. It’s g-good you see that.”
Wynonna shrugged. “Then what? What am I supposed to do?”
Lockhart released his grip on her. “You need to k-kill me.”
“What?”
He said nothing more, just staring into her eyes.
“No. Why would I kill you?”
He tapped his chest. “I still h-have a few sp-spirits trapped in these t-tattoos. If you kill me, y-you’ll inherit their power.”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m not going to kill you.”
“Wynonna!” he shouted. “Listen to m-me! I’m d-d-dead either way. Do th-this, and you’ll stand a ch-chance.”
“I… I can’t kill you, Cory.”
“If y-you don’t, she w-will. I don’t want my s-s-soul in her clutches. This is y-you saving me.”
His apprentice continued to shake her head.
“Wynonna… Please. Save me.”
She finally stopped shaking her head and looked at the ground.
Lockhart retrieved his journal from his pocket and the vespari medallion from his waist and handed them both to Wynonna. “I… left i-instructions,” he said, tapping the book. “I know y-you’ll be o-okay without me.”
After tucking the objects into her pockets, Wynonna gripped the handle of her knife and pressed the tip against Lockhart’s chest, just above his heart. Looking her master in the eye, she said, “Cory, I’m…” She struggled to say the next word. “…sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the fortune. I’m sorry I lied to you. I didn’t want this.”
He smiled at her. “I know. I already forgave you.”
“I’ll take care of everything. You don’t have to worry about anything anymore. I’ll finish it.”
“G-goodbye, Wynonna.”
She paused a moment, before steeling herself for what she had to do. “Goodbye, Cory.”
***
Angry and numb, Wynonna ventured deeper into the cave to find Petronila. She felt stronger thanks to the energy taken from Lockhart. She could feel some of his regeneration flowing through her. She could feel a strength she hadn’t experienced before. Even her skin felt thicker, but the power flowing through her felt stolen. It didn’t belong to her, and she felt like a thief for having it. She hated herself for what she’d done to her master. It was her fault he was dead, but if it was the last thing she did, she’d ensure Petronila died too. Rage flowing through her, Wynonna gripped the knife so tightly in her hand that her nails were reaching around the other side and digging into her skin. Thanks to the pain suppression given to her by the Gentleman, she didn’t even feel it.
All she focused on was finding the soul eater. Petronila had left a trail that made her easy enough to follow. The shapeshifter, still bleeding from the wound in her gut, left a significant trail of blood along the cave floor. Wynonna walked with purpose through the cave system, passing several other tunnels without even a glance, until she arrived at another larger opening.
Just like with the room of meat and other discarded body parts, several magical torches illuminated this room. Instead of being their repository for food and waste, arcane implements filled this section of the cave. Wynonna didn’t recognize much in there, but the beldams had scrawled writing similar to the runes all over the walls. There was a selection of jars with strange objects stored within, including liquids, small creatures, and assorted plants. Books and tomes lined some poorly built shelves, an oddly out of place full body mirror leaned against a wall, and there was even a table topped with dozens of candles that had melted over and encased the wood.
And then there was the soul eater herself. She stood in the center of the room, staring at Wynonna. The tall and disgusting figure of the beldam was gone, as Petronila had reverted to her true form with her death and subsequent resurrection. Fiery red hair flowed down to her shoulders, and enormous black horns curved up above her head. Through her wicked smile, her sharp canines peaked out, and she glared at the vespari with cat-like slits of yellow eyes. Her reddish skin was covered only by the stretched out and now baggy clothes she’d worn as the much taller beldam, revealing much of her naked body. Her backward bending legs ended in hairy cloven hooves, and a long tail whipped back and forth behind her.
“I thought you might follow me,” Petronila said, that same forked tongue slithering out through her red lips. Her voice was sweeter than it had been as a beldam, but she sounded no less poisonous.
“I’ve come to kill you,” Wynonna replied.
The soul eater shook her head. “You are nothing. Your master couldn’t kill me, and neither shall you. You are weak.”
“He taught me enough to kill a vile thing like you.”
“I orchestrated this whole thing! All the power the beldams had. All the souls your master had taken as his own! Mine. It’s all mine!”
Wynonna scowled. “Not all of it.”
Petronila’s eyes darted around, as though she were searching for something. “He’s… he’s dead?” she finally asked. It sounded more like an accusation than a question. “You killed him!”
Wynonna didn’t reply, gritting her teeth instead.
“You deprived me of your master’s soul,” Petronila spat. “I worked so hard for that! It was mine!”
She stared into Wynonna’s eyes. The vespari felt penetrated by her vision alone.
“No matter,” Petronila said before licking the tips of her canines with that slender, forked tongue. “I see that I will simply have to rip his soul from those marks on your chest. Yours will be a dessert.”
Wynonna shook her head. “You don’t get him. He’s finally at peace. That’s where he’s going to stay.”
“At peace?” Petronila laughed. “You murdered him! What peace is there in that?”
“Shut your mouth!”
The soul eater laughed again. “You are nothing but a child. You know nothing.”
“I know about you,” Wynonna said. “I’ve read about your kind. I know that you’re weak on your own. I know that you need others to make you strong.”
Petronila smiled at the young vespari. “And your master and the rest of my coven have made me very strong indeed.”
“Maybe, but I know you’re still weak after your resurrection. And, I know how to kill you.” Wynonna flashed the blade in her hand.
The soul eater narrowed her eyes. “I’m not afraid of your little knife, girl. You’ve already tried that, and it failed.” Petronila patted her much more attractive new stomach, where the blade’s entry point had once been.
Wynonna shook her head. “This isn’t for you.”
Raising her free hand, the vespari placed the knife to her palm and cut open her own flesh. The vespari didn’t even feel it. She then raised the open wound for Petronila to see.
“You think I’m afraid of your blood?” the soul eater asked with bewildered eyes. “You’re a bigger fool than your master.”
Wynonna had obviously never done this before, but based on the notes in Lockhart’s journal and what he’d told her about it, she believed it would work. Hoped it would work. Slipping the knife through her belt for the moment, she then reached into her pocket. All she could find that she was willing to part with was a silver round. It would do. Pulling the silver round from her pocket, Wynonna placed it into her cut open hand, just above the pooling blood. She dipped the tip of one of her fingers in this pool of blood and started tracing a symbol onto the side of the silver round.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Petronila asked.
“I know the only way to kill you is to starve you,” Wynonna said, finished with the rune and once again grabbing the knife from her belt. “But, that’s going to take too long, so in the meantime I’ll ha
ve to make sure you can’t steal anyone else’s soul. I’ll put you somewhere where you’ll wither away in obscurity and isolation.”
“You think to bind me?” the soul eater shouted, nostrils flaring.
“I will bind you, and then you’ll slowly starve to death and die.”
“You will try, but you will fail. I have come too far and worked too hard for a sniveling little thing like you to stop me.”
Petronila pushed her hand forward, and a semi-transparent force of metallic light exploded out from it. The soul eater had clearly meant to throw Wynonna backward with her sorcery, but she only skidded about a foot, protected by her spell resistance.
Wynonna laughed and shook her head. “Not going to work on me,” she said.
The soul eater scowled and tried again. This time a bolt of lightning arced out from her palm and connected with Wynonna’s chest. The combination of spell resistance and pain suppression made it so she hardly felt a thing. A bit of static maybe. The small amount of regeneration she inherited from Lockhart also came together and mended the seared mark the lightning caused. The worst part of the attack was the smell from the burning of the rotten meat that stuck to her clothes.
Stepping forward, Wynonna said, “Give it up. You can’t hurt me.”
“Then I will kill you!” Petronila screamed.
The soul eater stretched her clawed fingers out and charged toward Wynonna. Petronila slashed over and over again in a wild streak, but the vespari dodged each blow or deflected it with the blade. When the opportunity presented itself, she even landed a punch of her own, using the hilt of the knife to strengthen the hit.
Petronila grew enraged and tackled Wynonna, throwing the both of them onto the table covered with excess candle wax. The candles poked into her back, causing her to arch awkwardly. The vespari managed to get some leverage, however, and kicked Petronila off her. The soul eater fell backward, while Wynonna stumbled to the side. She caught herself on another table, this one full of glass bottles.
Though Wynonna had no idea what each of them would do, she decided to take advantage of them. The vespari picked up a flask filled with a bubbling green liquid, as Petronila was standing. Before the soul eater could attack her once again, she chucked the bottle at her, breaking the glass and spilling the contents all over Petronila’s chest.
