“Like the god?” Quinn asked. Ms. West nodded.
“We know the god came here from a far corner of the known universe, perhaps even from outside our universe. We know he requires souls to survive, but perhaps it was he who brought the soul here in the first place. For he was present on earth long before Thomas Parris, before the human race was birthed, perhaps even before the first spark of life ignited. Perhaps he was the spark. He has been lying in wait, dead but dreaming, ever since. We do not know why he came, but he has revealed his intention – to colonize our galaxy and to build on earth a factory of souls to fuel his expanding race.”
“He’s never said that to me,” I said.
“You do not ask the right questions. He revealed this to Vincent Bloomberg during their first meeting, when Vincent took over the role of President of the Eldritch Club from his father.”
Trey snorted. “Trust my father to see a malevolent cosmic deity as a kindred spirit.”
“Vincent is nothing if not brilliant.” Ms. West’s voice took on this wistful tone I’d never heard before. She turned to me, but her eyes were far away. “You may not know, but your boyfriend’s father is the director of one of the biggest aerospace technology companies in the world. The combination of his astrophysics background and his judicious imagination meant he was the first member of the Eldritch Club to discern the god’s true purpose. That’s why Vincent contracted me to study the god. He knew I was uniquely suited to help both the god and him achieve their aims.”
“What aims were those?” Trey demanded.
Ms. West waved her hand. She was clearly going to tell this story in her own time. “Before I knew your father or had contact with the god, my early experiments looked at how to separate the soul from the body – the subjective from the objective. I figured out that trauma severs the soul/body connection. And, of course, the greatest trauma a human can endure is their own death. The soul as energy is then reabsorbed and reused as part of the world, in a similar way that all life on earth is made from the dust of stars. What this reabsorption involves is unclear – are souls reincarnated, or does that energy become something else? These are the questions I wanted to answer but have not yet fathomed. What I do know is that the most traumatic deaths can damage a soul so it cannot be absorbed, giving us ghosts and spirits who linger on our plane.”
Easy pickings for a god who devours souls – like the ghosts of the witches that haunted Parris. I shuddered at the memory of the names scratched on the walls of the weight room. I still didn’t know how they tied into all this, or why the rats scratched them for us to read. And I didn’t want to ask Ms. West. I had a feeling she hadn’t noticed the scratches, and I didn’t want to give away the rats’ secret.
“After many months of unsuccessful attempts, I was able to intercept the soul on the very point of transition,” Ms. West explained. “The soul is just energy, and any standard conductor of energy can then be used to direct that soul wherever I wish.”
“You did experiments on cadavers at Arkham General,” I said.
“Of course. To test my theory, I needed subjects on the brink of death. I needed to be able to capture the soul at the very point of its observable transition. And it proved successful – I was able to isolate and trap the human soul within an occult sigil.”
I wondered about the sigils I found on the Miskatonic Prep graves. Had the sigils somehow trapped their souls? But there wasn’t time to consider it – I had to focus on Ms. West’s words, for each sounded more insane than the last.
She continued. “Now that I had captured a human soul, what could I do with it? I wanted to know what happened if I placed the soul in another body. What if I could move a dying soul into a new body and therefore eliminate death entirely?
“But before I could explore further, the hospital discovered my experiments. There was an inquiry. I explained the importance of my work, but they could not see beyond the potential litigation into the wider benefits for humanity. Luckily, Vincent sat on the hospital board and immediately recognized my brilliance. He stepped in at the last minute with an offer I couldn’t refuse.
“He introduced me to the god. When he opened those trapdoors, what rushed at me was the sensation of a soul leaving, only amplified a hundredfold. I knew then that Vincent was right in his theory – what for centuries has been called a god or a demon is really an alien entity that required no food to exist, but a kind of living energy that originated from its home across the stars. It had been starving for millennia, for it was trapped beneath the earth, starved of souls, the very thing which I could supply.
“Vincent explained that he could kill a person and throw their corpse into the prison, and the entity – the god, if you prefer – would give off a small burst of power that Vincent could use. He wanted a way to make that power grow and last. I knew immediately what was happening – in the same way we eat food to give our bodies energy, the god devoured the soul and took the nutrients of life itself to give off an energy that has never before been discovered in our world. And that energy was absorbed by Vincent and other members of the Eldritch Club – all descendants of powerful witches and occult leaders. The answer to Vincent’s question was therefore simple – if he wants a great release of this energy, his god requires a great feast of souls.”
I sucked in a breath, willing down the heat that flared in my palms. Beside me, Trey gripped the edge of his chair so hard his knuckles glowed white.
“I also knew that if I told him this, Vincent would cast me aside. I’d lose access to the god forever. I was the only scientist to make these breakthroughs in the study of souls, and the only one who would have access to this new energy. I alone had the opportunity to reveal the deepest hidden secrets of the universe. I couldn’t allow the Eldritch Club to close off my access to the god. This discovery was bigger than them and their petty squabbles for dominance.
“And so, I did what no one else had done since they discovered the god – I asked him what he wanted. The answer was also obvious, although not to Vincent Bloomberg. If the god had come to colonize our universe, he must have had a mate with him. But his mate died on the journey. The god was unable to complete his mission, so he slumbered beneath the earth until he was awoken by Parris. More than anything else, our god wished for progeny to carry on his dynasty of star-eaters.”
“What does that even mean?” Trey demanded.
“It means, boy, that I saved your pointless lives and gave the god what he wanted. Instead of killing you like Vincent would have demanded, I blessed you with the god’s gifts. You were to be his firstborn – the first generation in an evolutionary chain that would lead eventually to a race of new star gods. Your teachers volunteered to leave their lives and accept immortality – without the associated gifts of his energy – to act as your nursemaids and tutors, to ensure you continue the god’s race to the next generation, and the next. Your father – your new father – is patient. He can afford to wait a millennium or two for the last of your frail human genes to be flushed from the system.”
Trey stalked across the room, his eyes ablaze. He grabbed her shoulders, yanking her forward on her toes until her face was an inch from his. “Stop trying to make poetry from your butchering. What have you done to us?”
Cold realization sliced through my chest as Ms. West’s words clicked into place.
I knew. I understood.
The Edimmu. The undying. Human, but not human. All my questions about how the Kings were dead and yet they breathed and hurt and acted as living people. About how they saw cruelty as the answer to all their problems.
They weren’t dead at all.
They were changed.
This is madness.
“You’re not dead,” I whispered. “You were never dead. This school… it’s a nursery. You’re the god’s children.”
Chapter Seven
Ms. West nodded. “I knew you would understand, Ms. Waite.”
Trey’s eyes blazed. “That’s absurd. How could my
mother have slept with a creature made of shadow and malevolence? I am Vincent Bloomberg’s son. It’s his cruelty that runs in my veins.”
Ms. West laughed, the sound like shattering glass. “Cosmic gods do not rut in the dirt like humans. His reproductive process involves an exchange of energy. Some of yours for some of his. You were born of your parents as a boring human and then we created you anew, the god and I, from his recipe and my skills. In some ways, you might say I am your real mother.”
Trey’s face betrayed his horror and disgust. The Deadmistress tossed back her head and laughed – an unhinged, maniacal sound.
“Trapped in this school, at the mercy of your teenage hormones, you were supposed to breed like rabbits, and your children would have been less human than you, and on it would go until the god’s race reigned over our universe. But of course, we didn’t know how human physiology would react to the god’s energy – it appears the ritual has made you all sterile.”
“You’re sick.” Trey grabbed her shoulders and shook. This only made her laugh harder. Quinn finished his drink and poured another. He still wouldn’t look at me.
My mind swam with thoughts and memories, putting together everything she said against what we already knew. “Only the teachers knew about this… this breeding.”
“The Eldritch Club wanted the god’s power for themselves, not to create a race that would one day rise up to surpass them. They could never know the truth. And so, I told the stories I had to tell to make myself indispensable to them. I told Vincent what he needed to hear – that I could obtain this power for him, but it would come at a price. For the first three years, I conducted preliminary experiments on lower life-forms – rodents, dogs, sheep, the vagrants Vincent found to act as caretakers at the school. I moved souls around between bodies, carving them into pieces, mingling them with the god’s energy to see how they reacted. Then I experimented on the ghosts and ghouls that haunt this house. These old stones contain a lot of restless spirits – the perfect vehicles for further experiments. I achieved exceptional results, but none that pleased the god as his first progeny. Interestingly enough, it was the family history of an old work colleague that gave me the final answer.”
Deborah? I leaned forward. “Let me guess – something to do with Parris and his final ritual.”
“Indeed. Parris had figured out some aspects of the god’s being. Back in his day, science and the occult were intrinsically linked – both concerned with knowing the secrets of the natural world, and with controlling it. Parris also conducted experiments, sacrificing many members of his coven in his quest to uncover the god’s secrets. Finally, he thought he had the answer – he’d designed a ritual that was a crude version of the one we used on you boys, only he thought it would bind the god’s power to himself so he could control it. One of his foolish acolytes, a Rebecca Nurse – from whom my colleague was descended – decided to stop him. From across the country, her ritual blocked Parris’ at the exact moment a mob from the town set fire to this place. Parris died in the blaze, but the fire also raged through the connection between the two rituals, burning Rebecca and her coven to a crisp. And so, my idea was born.”
“The fire,” Trey said bluntly. A shudder ran through Quinn’s body.
“Indeed. Fire is raw, pure energy. It also acts as a conduit that can carry different types of energy – that’s why it’s used so often in ritual magic. I wondered, what if I repeated that ritual, but instead I used the fire to bring the god’s energy into the bodies he had chosen?” Ms. West beamed. “I know. It’s genius, and somewhat above your comprehension. Allow me to attempt to explain. As you writhed in the flames, the trauma made your souls pliable. I pulled out pieces of your soul and gave to you a piece of the god in return, then I bound you together and placed you in the ground while the binding took hold. When you rose from your grave like a butterfly emerging from its chrysalis, you were born anew.”
The sigils carved into their tombs were the binding. I remembered how Ayaz explained that sigils could be used to control a demon or spirit or to bind them to a place. I knew the sigils had to be important. My legs wobbled from the horror of it. I slumped into the chair and sat on my hands, hiding the curls of smoke that rose from my palms as my anger bubbled inside me.
Across the room, Quinn squirmed. He grabbed the Scotch from Ms. West’s desk and took a glug straight from the bottle.
Trey’s fingers dug into Ms. West’s shoulders so hard he tore the fabric. “You’re saying that… that you chopped off a piece of my fucking soul and replaced it with a piece of the god?”
“You should be proud to be chosen by him! I told Vincent that every Eldritch Club member who wanted power from the god would have to offer up one of their own children for sacrifice. I knew that the child they each chose would be a product of their own cruelty and avarice – the perfect receptacle for the god’s first offspring. Everything you have been tasked to do from that moment on has been designed by me to mold you in the god’s image.”
“Everything you told us and made us do – hurting the scholarship students so they would make fitting sacrifices… it was a lie.” Trey’s hand slid away from her throat. He stepped back, anger rolling off him.
“Oh, please. You stepped so easily into your role of chief torturer that if I’d told you the truth, it wouldn’t have made a difference. You’re cut from the same cloth as your father – he thought I was his loyal servant, but I’ve manipulated him this whole time. It was so easy – you were all too consumed by lust for power and control that you could not see my deception. The whole trick was too easy. I told the Eldritch Club that any member who wished to partake of the ritual should invite their sacrifice to the dance, and that they must be prepared to bury their corpse. I thought we’d have a handful of willing parties, but in the end, the temptation proved too great for any of them to resist.
“245 students with souls to be sacrificed. 42 faculty members who volunteered to run the school and nurse the god’s children in exchange for immortality. And a freshly dug graveyard, ready for a second birth. We organized the dance, invited the chosen students, and made sure the doors were locked. We stoked the flames and lay down beside you, knowing the fire would bring us greater rewards on the other side. While the god’s servants gave us his immortal touch, the Eldritch Club did the rest – carrying the corpses down to the graveyard and burying the bodies in their designated places so the severed souls would find their way back to the right vessels.
“Then the god took over. For three days he roared and screamed, gorging himself on the most innocent and delicious parts of your souls. The earth shook with such violent earthquakes the fire investigators could not get their vehicles up the peninsula to study the fire. When he was finished, the god gave of himself, reducing himself to a fraction of his own power, carving his own essence into 245 pieces and placing one inside each of you. You became his – no longer innocent, no longer entirely human. Then, he returned to his slumber.
“The god spared the faculty from the flames so we could watch over your graves. For three long days we stood vigil, long after your parents grew bored with their tears and returned to their lives. We helped the first of you to claw your way to the surface, and then left you to free the others.
“Every year since, the god has demanded four sacrifices – just enough energy for him to provide the boost of power the Eldritch Club needs to keep them in the dark about what’s really going on. Meanwhile, you fulfill your true purpose. You feed the fire of the god inside you with your cruelty and vice. Each day you become more like him, and your children – once we figure out how to make you viable – will be even closer to his image. Now, we don’t even have to guide you – you torture the students for your own amusement. I kept detailed records observing your behavior.” Ms. West’s gaze fell on me. “I must say, you two boys have made a fascinating study.”
“We’re… we’re lab rats?” Trey growled. I was amazed he was able to cling to a single element of the litany
of horrors she’d just outlined.
“Inaccurate. My experiments have shown rats do not possess the brutality to be the chosen children of the god—”
SMASH.
Quinn tossed the bottle across the room. It hit a portrait above Ms. West’s fireplace. Glass exploded everywhere. The gilded frame fell to the floor, bent out of shape. Slivers of glass glittered on the rug – beautiful in their capacity for cruelty, like my Kings.
Shattered glass for a shattered soul.
I expected Quinn to yell, but instead, he stood frozen. His eyes focused on something behind Ms. West’s head none of us could see. I longed to embrace him, but the rage rolling off his body called to me, begging for permission to be unleashed – for a spark to set him off. If we touched now, the explosion of emotion might burn this place down.
Ms. West continued talking as if all these rending souls and immortal children were completely normal.
“As I said, I’ve never before acted as midwife for the birth of a new race, and as such, we’ve had some hiccups; namely, the fact you haven’t yet bred. I’ve tried everything, including using my own body as a vessel, but it appears what makes us immortal also makes us unable to bear children.”
Ignited: a reverse harem bully romance (Kings of Miskatonic Prep Book 4) Page 4
