Curse of Souls (Warrior of Souls Book 1)

by S Mays

  Upon closer inspection, it was obvious the sticks and shrubbery were arranged in deliberate camouflage; however, they had not been rearranged this night. Something had entered the cave in a hurry and hadn’t bothered covering its tracks.

  Okay, so...I’m supposed to stroll into that tiny cave and cuddle up to the girl who just tried to slice my head off and the “whatever” that tried to bite her head off?

  He looked around for a weapon — a stick, rock, grenade, anything. A low sound from the cave caught his attention. Inching closer, he hunched down, attempting to peer into the darkness. The world was growing darker around him. The contact lens faded. After a few seconds, his vision returned to normal.

  “Great,” he muttered, removing it. The wind kicked up, causing the shadows from the tops of the trees surrounding the clearing to dance around him. Then all was still. He turned back to the cave, which was now completely engulfed in shadow.

  Approaching the cave, he whispered inside. “Jessica, are you in there?” Two glowing eyes popped open in the darkness a few feet away. A smile emerged into view, similar to how he pictured the Cheshire Cat’s grin — if the Cheshire Cat’s mouth was full of daggers. A deep growl rumbled from the creature’s throat.

  “Boy, you are meddling in affairs that do not concern you,” the visage thundered.

  “Um...s-send the girl out, and we won’t have to blow your little love shack to kingdom come!” Sverre stuttered, scrambling backward. “Don’t fire yet, men!” he shouted over his shoulder.

  A low chuckle erupted from the cave. The canine face looked from Sverre to the rest of the clearing before resting upon Sverre again. “I can see you, boy. I see you are alone. I smell you are alone,” the voice stated as the creature plodded up from the mouth of the cave. With each step, its height grew half a foot, until it towered into full view.

  Sverre braced himself, gripping Jessica’s weapon tightly. In a blur, the beast leapt upon him. He fell onto his back, extending his legs, catching the beast in the chest. Using its own weight against it, he kicked out, flipping it over him. A thunderous crash arose from the underbrush as it impacted the ground out of sight. The beast was inhumanly fast, despite its size. He estimated its weight at around three hundred pounds, judging by the pain that now wracked his body. It didn’t seem possible for it to move that quickly.

  “Very good, boy. I obviously leapt before I looked and underestimated you. I do not enjoy being made a fool, however,” the creature called from the shadows.

  Without the contact lens, he couldn’t see it. It was moving among the trees, using them as cover. With its speed, if he blinked, the fight could be over before it started. He could tell where the creature was from the location of its voice, but only that noise, because it made no sound otherwise.

  “Look, buddy, I’ve got this weapon here, and if you come back, I am going to slice your nuts off!” Sverre shouted into the night.

  Deep laughter erupted from the shadows. “You do not even know what that is. It will not work for you, only for her. You are entertaining, but I have far better entertainment lined up after your corpse lies steaming on the earth this night. In fact, I now hunger.”

  With that, the beast bore down upon him again. Moving slowly, it now attempted to intimidate him with its size and appearance. It was a few inches taller than he was, even hunched over. Its frame was thick and muscular. Legs that were a twisted combination of man near the top and large padded and clawed feet near the bottom carried it forward. Its arms were arranged similarly, except the claws were over an inch long and attached to hands that resembled a man’s. The entire creature was covered in thick brown fur. A massive wolf’s head that was mostly fangs, pointed ears, and wild eyes studied Sverre.

  It paused for a second, letting him observe it longer. “Magnificent, am I not?” it asked. “You are one of the few of your kind who has seen. Of course, all of the others who have seen have died.”

  “Well, I guess that winning streak ends tonight, dog-face.” He felt he should have been paralyzed with fear, or at least running in the opposite direction, but he felt loose, ready to fight. For that matter, he couldn’t believe he was cracking jokes.

  “You jest? When you meet the beings that await you in the afterlife, fool, let them know Rilus sent you!” the werewolf snarled.

  “Come on, then!” Sverre taunted, suddenly wishing he had some kind of battle plan. He felt surprisingly confident, considering the aberration of nature that was rushing him.

  In an instant, the beast was toe-to-toe with him, moving almost too fast to be seen. First, it slashed at his stomach, attempting to disembowel him. Next, its fangs were at his throat. Each attack was met with a block or miss as he deftly danced in and out of the beast’s reach. It lunged forward, snapping at his hand. Driving his hands down upon its head, he cartwheeled over it, sending it crashing headfirst into a tree. It turned slowly, its fangs bared in fury.

  His attacks hadn’t harmed it. His tactics were buying time, but he could see no way to defeat it.

  It bounded at him again, this time on all fours. He attempted the same maneuver again, but this time the monster was ready. It snagged his ankle as he started the flip, spinning him in a circle, then releasing him. He slid across the ground and bounced through the opening of the cave, tearing the rest of the plant matter around the cave mouth as he attempted to slow his speed. He came to a stop when he rolled into a pile of debris.

  Stunned for a few seconds, he checked to see if anything was broken. His head reeled from the overwhelming stench of decay. He grabbed at an arm that was lying across his chest, gasping when he realized it wasn’t his arm, or even attached to a body.

  Jumping up in disgust, he then noticed he was standing in a pile of rancid body parts and skeletal remains. Moonlight now poured in from the mouth of the cave, where he had inadvertently cleared away the covering vegetation.

  The cave was smaller than he had expected. He saw Jessica lying a few feet away and inched over to check on her. As far as he could determine, she wouldn’t be of any help, but she appeared to be only unconscious. He looked around, but the cave was empty except for her, him, and the bodies in the corner. The creature hadn’t followed him in yet.

  Rilus stood outside the cave, analyzing the situation. He had seen the boy fend off the Stalker, and he had done the same to Rilus himself. There was a strange scent about him, and he was far more dangerous than Rilus had anticipated. No normal human should even be able to track his movements, much less avoid them. Was he another Stalker?

  Perhaps the two of them were in league, setting a trap for him, and the battle earlier had been a ruse to draw him out. Rilus was confused by the apparent ineptitude of the boy, yet his combat prowess was beyond his years. Warily, he inched his way toward the mouth of the cave.

  Slowly, the giant form entered the cave, blocking out the little light available. Keen eyes surveyed the surroundings. He noticed the girl where he had left her, the walls and the remains of his last few meals in the corner. The boy was gone. Impossible! Perhaps some kind of invisibility? Teleportation? He sniffed in several directions. The boy’s smell was heavy in the air. The scent led from the entrance to the girl, then past her. He cautiously approached the back wall, keeping his nose to the ground.

  He made his way to the pile of bodies, but the varying smells of rot, perfumes, and detergents temporarily overwhelmed him. From the very bottom of the pile, covered in blood and gore, Sverre burst forth, stabbing Rilus in the throat with a forearm bone. The creature emitted a howl of pain which chilled Sverre to his core. He pressed the attack with all of his might. To his surprise, he shoved the man-wolf out of the cave and back into the open air. He knew his only hope for survival was getting out of the cramped confines of the cave. He’d have room to maneuver in the clearing.

  With a growl of fury, Rilus struck back. The rear of his hand knocked Sverre away. Sverre hit the ground, tumbling to a stop in a jumbled heap. It felt like his entire ribcage had collapsed.
He couldn’t catch his breath. He pushed up from his face-down position in the dirt, looking over his shoulder, hoping to find the creature dying. Instead, it stood calmly. The bone had entered the front of its neck and exited the rear.

  Rilus gingerly grabbed the bone and slid it out the back of his wound, regarding it with feigned interest. He quickly bit the thin bloody bone in half, then returned his gaze to Sverre. With a garbled voice, he said, “And now, you die.” Sverre attempted to run, but the beast leapt upon him, pinning his arms to the ground.

  Sverre struggled with all of his might, but whatever superhuman strength had possessed him in the cave had departed. The weight of the beast crushed the breath from him. Sharp fangs encircled his throat, closing slightly. He went limp, like a rabbit caught in the predator’s mouth. He gasped as the pressure increased slowly, cutting off the supply of blood to his brain. Rilus toyed with him, savoring the kill. The world grew darker as his consciousness faded. He wondered if he would end up in the back of the cave as another pile of rotting bones.

  A familiar swishing sound preceded a cloud of red mist exploding in his face. He gasped for air as the jaws on his throat eased their grip, but choked on a cloud of vaporized blood. The beast’s body rolled off of him; its head went in another direction.

  Looking to his left, Rilus gazed at him, unblinking. To his right, the rest of the large body rested. It took a few seconds to realize what had happened. He looked up to see Jessica staring down at him, blade in hand. He glanced at Rilus’ neck, noting the perfect cut through bone and muscle. The stump glistened in the darkness, but there was no blood. He glanced at her blade. It was bloodless.

  “Phew. Thankfully, you —” he began, attempting to rise, but she forced him back to the ground with her foot, cutting him off. Slowly, she lowered the blade towards his already-tender throat.

  “What the — I just saved your life. Well, at least I tried to. I could have left you for dead!” he argued, trying to sit up again, but a quick kick to his head rendered him unconscious.

  CHAPTER THREE

  He awoke a few hours later with a jolt. Grabbing his throat, he was relieved to find it was still intact. The pain in his side removed any notion that he had been dreaming. He was in a padded cell, with a cot, a mirror, and a stainless-steel toilet. Apparently, someone had washed most of the filth from him and replaced his clothing. He now wore an outfit more akin to gray prison duds. The room had no visible door or windows.

  He called out, “Hello?”

  There was no answer. Lying back on the cot, he listened and waited.

  ***

  In a room far removed from his, multiple monitors and displays recorded his every movement. Some were basic audiovisual displays. Others outlined his body in varying colors. Certain devices recorded his voice. Even the toilet was set up to monitor waste product. Sensors analyzed the very air filtered out of the room.

  “Why the hell is this guy here, Peach?” a stout man asked, leaning on the edge of the table. “Looks like a normal kid to me,” he said, dismissing the monitors with a wave of his hand.

  She grimaced at the mention of that nickname. “I told you to stop calling me that. He was attacked by a werewolf and —”

  “That’s it? You shoulda whacked him on the spot if he was bitten,” he replied, removing the gun from his holster.

  “No! Wait, Sam. He wasn’t bitten. He helped me defeat the werewolf. The werewolf was the threat we were searching for over at the school,” she admitted, staring intently at the monitor.

  “How the hell could he help you, and why would you need help in the first place, with a normal werewolf?” Sam asked.

  “I don’t know how… Look, it is complicated. I misread his aura and assumed he was the creature I was searching for. He is something different. His combat prowess matched mine, but I do not believe he has had any formal training.”

  “That punk gave you a hassle?” Sam exclaimed, using his gun as a pointer toward the monitor. “Hell, I think my Aunt Petunia could take that guy!”

  “We need to figure out what he is. I am getting a few abnormal metabolic readings from the instrumentation, but other than that, he seems human. I wish I could get a reliable reading from the SA equipment, but it seems to be malfunctioning,” she stated. The screen displayed a myriad of colors swarming within Sverre’s outlined form. A normal reading was a single color of low intensity. “The feats he performed tonight were far beyond the scope of an ordinary human. With apparently no training at all, he fought both myself and a mature werewolf and survived.”

  Sam looked away from her and back to the screen, a look of disbelief upon his face. “Well, these gizmos ain’t tellin’ us jack shit. You’d better get the Old Man down here to take a look.”

  “He is on his way. Although it may be some time before he arrives,” she responded, the soft glow of the monitors illuminating her face in the dim room.

  On monitor three, Sverre was staring intently into the camera, as if he knew she was watching. He lay on his back with his arms behind his head, gazing up at the ceiling where the monitoring equipment was hidden. Barely audible words escaped his mouth. She turned up the gain on the microphone.

  “Can’t you feel the weight of my staaaare. You’re so close, but still a world awaaay. What I’m dying to say is that I’m crazy for yooou,” he sang, off-key.

  “He knows we are watching?” she asked. “What is that he is singing?”

  “I think that’s Madonna’s ‘Crazy for You’? Before your time, girl,” Sam replied. “Way before his time, too. Kid has some weird taste in music for one of you millennials.”

  “This man gets stranger by the minute,” she muttered.

  Night passed into morning with no further incidents. Jessica slept far later than she normally would, sleeping almost until noon. She awoke with a start, the image of Rilus leering at her as he stood over her. The scene was burned into her mind. Sitting up, her injuries protested. It felt as if she had been run over by a forklift. Checking the cameras, she was dismayed to see the room was dark. The Spectral Analyzer screen showed two people in the room.

  Grabbing the microphone, she shouted, “Sam, intruder in the cell!”

  The door to the security room opened. Sam walked in with coffee and a box. “Relax, Jess. The Old Man came in while ya were sleepin’. He wanted to visit the kid personally.”

  “Why wasn’t I notified?” She leapt up and rushed to the door, but he grabbed her arm.

  “He said he don’t want to be disturbed,” Sam answered.

  “He could get hurt! I’m going down there.”

  “Look, he’s been doin’ this longer than either of us has been alive. He’s probably forgotten more war stories than I can remember. Trust him,” Sam said, sitting down. He waved her away from the door and gestured toward the empty chair. “Have a donut. I don’t think you’ve eaten since you got in.”

  Reluctantly, she sat back down, taking the offered donut. Staring at the only monitor that displayed anything in the blacked-out room, she puzzled at the images. The Spectral Analyzer was a simple name for a very complex machine. It could analyze the basic energies emitted by all living beings. In other words, auras. She’d been trained from a young age to sense and feel those auras. It was a painstaking process that took many years. Detecting a foreign aura was akin to hearing a pin drop in a crowded restaurant. Of course, now it was second nature to her. The machine analyzed the energies in much greater detail, whereas she could only determine if an aura deviated from human. If her ability was a magnifying glass, the SA was an electron microscope.

  On the left side of the screen, she saw her grandfather. His aura was a brilliant, intense white. She should have recognized it instantly. Such an aura was very rare. On the right sat Sverre. Last night she was sure the machine was malfunctioning, but the fact that her grandfather’s energy signature displayed normally meant Sverre’s aura was something alien and unknown. It should have been one color. The intensity varied by how much life ene
rgy he contained.

  His energies were more turbulent than when she had last observed them. They were light shades of blue, red, dark green, and…black. She worried at the last color. Dark auras were reserved for otherworldly beings, usually evil.

  ***

  In the cell, Sverre continued his conversation with the elderly man who had arrived an hour ago. The man looked to be perhaps eighty but was incredibly alert. Sverre was quickly put at ease by the man’s wit and humor. His hair was white, long and shaggy. He had an unkempt beard and comically thick glasses. He wore flip flops, cut-off jean shorts and a heavy metal t-shirt. His walking cane leaned against the wall in the corner of the room.

  The man sat cross-legged in front of Sverre, on the floor. The absence of light was at the insistence of the visitor. Sverre’s hands rested on the palms of the old man as he “communed with the spirits,” as he said. He seemed harmless enough, but Sverre had grown bored as time passed. Not only that, but he had to take a leak, but he sure as hell wasn’t doing that while being filmed by these perverts.

  When he had first entered, he had introduced himself as Bilford Luvkrafft, and cut Sverre off as soon as he had opened his mouth, saying, “No, no relation to that man.”

  He explained that he worked for a special agency dealing with delicate matters involving the supernatural — like the incident that had occurred last night. Sverre figured that was the case, but he had about three hundred questions waiting for the first person who appeared in his cell. Bilford had held his hand out, stopping Sverre mid-sentence.

  “I know you have questions, but please — I must verify a few things with you first. All mysteries will be revealed in the end. Patience, my boy.”

  That began Bilford’s questioning session, as the old man asked about Sverre’s family, what had happened last night, and, interestingly enough, his grandparents. Sverre didn’t know anything about his grandparents. They were gone before he was born. Bilford also had many questions about his father and seemed somewhat disappointed by the answers. That was when he suggested the séance, or whatever he was doing now. He could hear the old man muttering and feel him swaying in the darkness.