Eater of Souls

by Erik Lynd

  It was heading to the center of the zoo, the area with the highest concentration of visitors. He had hoped to fight it here, where most of the visitors had been scared off, but that was not the creature’s plan. It was mad with blood lust. Apparently Christopher was no longer enough for it, it was greedy.

  Christopher jumped after it, using his new ability to control his power to guide himself on a steadier course, but the creature was faster and made it to the park area in the center of the zoo before him.

  Zoo visitors scattered from the beast that had just landed, their late afternoon picnics and snack breaks disrupted by the eight-foot-tall monster in their midst, but apparently the monsters snack break had just begun. It grabbed hold of the nearest human it could find, a man who had just pushed his wife away as the creature’s claw struck.

  Christopher saw it lift the screaming man towards its gaping maw. He pushed off with his power and slammed into the ground just behind the werehound. He stayed on his feet this time and let his rage flow from him. The shock wave of his landing was enhanced as his Hell power rolled away from him in a great wave. The ground heaved, and the very fabric of reality seemed to ripple with his power. It threw the civilians back, knocking them over and pushing them away from the center of the park.

  The creature was also knocked off balance and dropped the man in surprise. The power wave sent the man sprawling a few feet away, out of the creature's reach. But the werehound didn't seem to care. It turned to face Christopher, still wearing that same manic wolf-grin on its face.

  "Ah, the main course," it said with a voice so powerful and deep it almost shook the ground.

  Something was different Christopher realized. The monster seemed bigger, although it was the same size. And then Christopher understood, it was the creature’s aura. Its aura, though thick with the stench of evil and corruption, was pulsing with vitality. While Christopher had been running and barely recovering from his wounds, this thing had been growing in power, consuming souls and becoming stronger.

  That's just great, thought Christopher, like I wasn't at a serious disadvantage already.

  "I almost ate you late time Hunter. I would have, but they wouldn't let me," the creature said.

  "Who wouldn't let you? Who are you?"

  "I am Ammit, the Eater of Souls," Ammit said. "And they are the ones who created me. Or one of them did, anyway."

  "Why? Just to destroy me?" Christopher asked.

  "It does not matter. I have already tasted you, and now I will consume you, I will make you forever a part of me." Ammit looked around at the last of the humans running out of the zoo. "It was so easy. She knew you would care for this... this... food. I was hoping you would be harder to hunt and kill than this."

  Christopher could feel the Weapon screaming at him, it burned in his pocket. It wanted blood and souls to take to Hell. Christopher was afraid of it, afraid of it taking control again like it had in the lair. But he had no choice. He could not defeat this Ammit without it.

  He freed the Weapon from his pocket, and it instantly transformed into a sword. Power shot along its blade and mixed with the streams of Hell power cloaking Christopher. He could feel the will of the sword coming over him like a wave. He fought against it, forcing it under his control. He was able to master it this time, maybe only because he was ready for it, but he could still feel something was wrong, some piece of weakness inside of him.

  Ammit snarled and launched himself at Christopher. The Hell power surged inside of him, and with blinding speed Christopher jumped to the side and struck out with the Weapon.

  But even with Christopher's enhanced speed, Ammit's hand struck out, the claws hit the blade and deflected it. The force of Ammit's blow almost knocked the Weapon from Christopher's hand, but he was able to hold on.

  Christopher tried to recover quickly, but the monster was faster. His claws came back around and struck Christopher. Luckily it was the back of the creature’s hand, otherwise the claws would have ripped him to shreds. Instead, pain slammed into his chest, and he was knocked back about twenty feet, where he landed on his ass.

  He sat there stunned for a moment before scrambling to his feet expecting a second, final blow from Ammit. But none came.

  When he had regained his feet, he spun to face the monster with his sword up. But Ammit was just standing there. He was still smiling that vicious grin.

  "I don't normally play with my food, but I think this time I will make an exception," Ammit said. "And when I am done, I will look for the young ones to have for dessert. The pure souls are the juiciest."

  Fueled by a burst of anger, the Hell power flowed through Christopher. He leapt at Ammit, the Weapon coming down in blows as fast as he could. Ammit fell back under the onslaught, and Christopher was rewarded by roar of surprise coming from the monster.

  But it was a short lived triumph. Ammit recovered quickly. Claws, like short steel blades, moved in a blur even at Christopher's enhanced speed. Soon Christopher realized he was being played with again.

  This thing had such power. He would never defeat it toe to toe. He jumped back to buy some time and reached out with his shadows. Tendrils of power snaked from his body, and he jumped into the air using the power in this new found way to guide himself higher.

  Ammit launched himself into the air, howling as he hurtled straight at Christopher. Christopher pushed off with his power and shifted out of the way at the last moment. Ammit sailed past him with a surprised yelp and slammed into the side of a large stone building. Parts of the stone facade shattered around Ammit, and he plummeted to the ground.

  Christopher used the power again to pull himself in the direction of Ammit's landing spot at the base of the building. He landed at the same time Ammit crashed into the ground. Christopher struck with the Weapon. But Ammit was quicker, he was rolling as soon as he hit. Christopher's blade missed its head, but sliced into its shoulder. It was not a deep wound, but Christopher could feel the tug of the dark soul inside as the Weapon snagged its prize.

  For one brief moment Christopher saw it. The two beings inhabiting a single body, a body made of pure power. The dark creature, the true hellhound, subservient to the twisted dark soul inside. The entities blended, but it was the corrupt desire of the dark soul that drove its blood lust.

  Then it was gone. The cut was too shallow, and the blade lost its hold on the dark soul. It snapped back, and Ammit howled with pain. Its arm flew out as it jumped to its feet and caught Christopher in the chest before he could bring the sword around again.

  Christopher sailed through the air, landing on concrete and skidding across the paved walking area. His Hellpower whipped about him, stopping him. He got to his feet quickly, he was beginning to learn to use the shadow aura of power around him as an extension of his body. He was like a gangly teenager experiencing a growth spurt with it. It didn't always move as he had planned. And he didn't have time to practice with it now.

  He spun towards Ammit, just as the creature slammed into him with its shoulder, like a linebacker making a tackle. The air rushed from Christopher's lungs, and the Weapon flew from his hands. Instantly, he was unarmed.

  Gasping for breath, he gripped his fist in his hand and slammed it down on what he hoped was Ammit's neck. The monster was so large it was hard to tell. Ammit grunted but didn't let go or alter his trajectory. Christopher slammed his fist against him over and over. Hellpower infused his blows, and he knew it was doing some sort of damage, but the monster held him. Then Christopher slammed into a wall. His head snapped back and smacked the stone with a crack. Everything went fuzzy for a moment.

  The power flowed through him, healing his wounds quickly, but he was still dazed. The world was spinning, and after a moment, he realized he was looking at the darkening sky. It moved across his vision. He was being dragged across the park. He shook his head, trying to regain his senses. Where was Ammit taking him?

  The claws tightened around his leg, and he was spun around and then thrown into the air. C
hristopher didn't know exactly where he was, but he reached out with his power, searching the ground. Now was his chance to get away. But Ammit was on him again, claws tearing into the flesh of his side and he was being dragged down. He tried one last grasp with a tendril of power to push off of something, but then he was slammed into stone ground with the combined force of Ammit and gravity.

  Close by he heard the barking of a sea lion. He had been bashed against the stone island in the middle of the sea lion enclosure. Stone shattered beneath him even as his own bones cracked, and then he was underwater. Drowning.

  The landing had dazed him some more, he was not even sure exactly which way was up. He struggled weakly in what he thought was the direction of air, but claws like iron weights held him down. Then he was lifted up, and Ammit's face filled his vision. He sputtered and coughed, trying to catch some air into his lungs.

  "Little boy Hunter," Ammit roared. "You are nothing. You are not worthy to lick my mistress’s boots."

  He was underwater again, caught off guard and water filling his mouth. Then he was lifted out.

  "Was it worth protecting the humans? You could have hidden, maybe that would have been some more sport. It might have even taken me a while to find you if you had kept moving. But you are weak. Just like all the other mortals. You don't deserve the Eden. I will fill my stomach with your kind."

  Christopher was under again. He couldn't focus his thoughts, blood from his head-wound filled the water around him. He was weakening quickly. The power, slowed by the missing part of him, struggled to heal him fast enough, but the damage was too great. It was a losing battle.

  He was no match for this thing, he never had been. He was foolish to think he could ever be this, this Hunter of Dark Souls. This was a job meant for a supernatural being, something with real power. He was playing at something that beings thousands of years old had mastered before him. It was silly. The real Beast, the real Hunter could have brought this thing to heel instantly.

  He was lifted out again.

  "And now I will know your soul, it will reside forever in my gut. Maybe someday I will shit you out," the creature said and opened a maw dripping with viscous saliva for one massive bite. But it didn't bite.

  It looked up in shock and a moment later talons dug into Ammit's shoulders, and he was ripped away from Christopher. And Christopher was once again plunged into the water.

  Released from the werehound's grasp, he searched around him wildly for the ground or surface so he could orient himself. His lungs felt like they were half full of water.

  Why do I end up almost drowning whenever I am fighting these fuckers? He thought.

  His hand brushed up against the stone of the sea lion island, and he pulled himself out of the water. He lay there gasping for a moment until the sounds of a struggle close by reached him through his coughing. He rolled over on his back.

  On the main sea lion island, Dark Eris in her demonic form fought with Ammit. She hovered above him, diving in and scraping him with her talons periodically. He knew he needed to help her, but he was unsure of how. Neither one of them was a match for this soul-infused monster. But he would do what he could, it was Dark Eris for fuck sake.

  He moved and the world spun, he steadied himself against the stone. He was far worse than he had ever been, he could feel the blood pouring from multiple wounds. Shattered bones were mending slowly, the pain intense.

  He was a broken man. What could he possibly do against this thing? The Beast, his predecessor, had been fearsome. Christopher remembered the power he felt in its presence. He had been scared and confused when the Beast had summoned him to an audience that day in the boiler room. Christopher understood that had been what it was. And when the Beast had given him the task to deliver the Book and Weapon to his father, he had still been confused and terrified, but there was no denying a command from a being like that...

  Something clicked inside Christopher's head. Almost, there was still something he was missing. The Hellfire inside of him leapt up so strongly that it felt like he burned on the inside.

  On the other island he could see that Ammit had caught hold of Dark Eris by the leg and was pulling her down.

  "I will tear you apart you harpy," Ammit roared. He slammed her down against the concrete island.

  The power loomed up inside of Christopher and opened before him like a chasm. He had always controlled it, forced it as best he could with his will. It had always been a wrestling match, but each day it grew stronger. With Hamlin it had almost completely overtaken him. Christopher had thought that was the answer, this terrible power had to be controlled, to be channeled. But maybe he had been wrong, maybe all along he had been failing to see the solution.

  Dark Eris was almost dead, he would be next. There was only one option. He had to stop fighting this power. In his own mind, in his own soul, he let himself fall into the chasm. And the power of Hell washed over him.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  He didn't try to control the power, he didn't try to hold it in check. He let it run its course. He let it cut its burning path through him. He could feel it awakening things inside, things dormant, things primal. He could feel its hatred, its anger, but beyond that he could feel something like justice or maybe the idea of just punishment. That was the basis of Hell, was it not? It wasn't mindless evil, that was for the dark souls. Hell had purpose, and that purpose now flooded Christopher's being.

  He felt his muscles contracting, his bones seemed to heal and harden. He cried out in anger. He was no slaughterer, he was not the cruel hunter. He was the condemner of the deserving.

  He could feel his heart beating so hard in his chest he thought it would explode. He cried out again, but this time in relief. It was as though his burden was lifted. When he stopped denying the power, it was as though a thousand pounds were lifted off of him. This was what he was, what he was meant to be. The power was the answer. To punish the evil and to kill in righteous anger.

  The power of Hell, now free to flow, lifted him off the ground with tendrils of force until he stood on that lone island in the sea lion habitat. Lightening and bands of energy curled about him.

  Across from him Ammit stood over Dark Eris, one claw extended, prepared for a final strike. Ammit did not see him, his single-minded madness shut everything out around him. The claw started to descend.

  "No," Christopher spoke the command.

  It boomed out from him, causing the souls of anyone in earshot to cower. He heard screams from some humans still trapped nearby. But he ignored them. He had spoken a command, and he expected to be obeyed.

  The werehound's hand stopped in mid-blow as though frozen. It looked at Christopher and snarled.

  He understood now. The secret he had been looking for, the mystery of how the Beast would have stopped this thing. The way to command hellhounds had always been there. There was no trick, it simply was.

  He was the Lord of Damnation.

  All Christopher had to do was believe it and embrace his power. The hellhound part of that monster would obey him as its master.

  With another snarl the werehound pulled its arm back to its side and stood upright. Then it let lose a blood-curdling howl before turning to face Christopher.

  Now the dark soul part was another matter. Christopher doubted it wanted to go back to Hell. He leapt into the air, letting his power flow around to propel him quickly toward where the Weapon rested on the ground. The monster was almost as quick, but Christopher reached the Weapon first. He picked it up, and it immediately flared to new life. Christopher let its power run its course, no controlling this time. He could feel its unholy desire boil over into his body. They understood each other now, and with that understanding came a level of control he had never had. The Weapon and he were one. He was the Weapon, the embodiment of Hell. The Book and he were one. His mistake had always been to see the separation. But no more.

  Ammit lunged at him. Christopher put his hand in the air palm out. A simple gesture, but it
was all it took.

  The hellhound inside of Ammit obeyed and halted. Ammit’s body contorted and rippled as he struggled for control. Given enough time Ammit would have control again, never to the same level—the hound would always seek to do Christopher's bidding—but eventually he could be a threat. Except Christopher would not let that happen.

  The sword flashed. Ammit raised his arms to ward off the blow, but the Weapon cut cleanly through, severing his arms. Christopher reversed his cut, slicing upwards through the creature's torso. The Weapon hooked onto the dark soul cleanly this time and with a great, flesh-tearing sound the soul snapped free of the body and was sucked into the Weapon with a flare of power.

  The body fell, but even before it hit the ground it had burst into a combination of bright lights and dark shadows. The shadow pieces dissolved slowly as though reluctant. Christopher didn't blame them, they were souls the werehound had consumed that were destined for Hell. The bright lights flew to all corners of the park like some great fireworks display before exploding into joyous burst of color. They were the souls destined for heaven.

  Dark Eris!

  Christopher turned and raced back to the island in the sea lion habitat. She was gone. No, she had changed back to her human form and fallen behind one of the stones. He found her leaning against the rock, bruised and injured, but still alive. Her eyes opened at his approach. It was Eris.

  "Thank you," Christopher said and gently touched her cheek. "Are you okay?"

  "That is one of your stupider questions, luckily I have come to expect them. You look different, by the way."

  "Can you walk?"