Tainted Souls

by Alice J Black

  I couldn’t see anything, so I moved at a steady pace, gripping a rung, then stepping down, and repeating the process. It felt like I climbed down forever. Finally, my foot hit the floor. As I let go of the ladder, my heart hammered, legs shook, and my hands were clammy. I glanced back up at the hatch, which seemed impossibly far away. I was officially in the basement, and it reeked. I wrinkled my nose as I took a deep breath, and a coppery taste filled the back of my throat. Grimacing, I breathed through my mouth to avoid most of the smell. I pressed my back against the ladder and looked around using my torch light. It was a large room with shelves, old chairs, and tables. I knew there was another way down to there because none of that stuff could fit through the hatch.

  I spotted a couple doors but no light switches, so I hurried across and searched the wall around the first door. Nothing. I hustled to the wall next to the second door and found a switch there. I flipped it and looked up, holding my breath as I waited for something to happen. Seconds later, the overhead strip lights blared to life. After light pooled around me and lit the spacious room, I breathed a sigh of relief and sagged against the wall.

  From above, I heard shuffling and then saw a pair of legs dangling through the hatch. I looked up, shielding my eyes from the light, and saw someone descending. I couldn’t make out who it was until I saw the familiar backside and the leather jacket tied around his torso. Vaughn jumped the last few rungs and landed with a thud. He rubbed his hands together as if ridding himself of dirt, and then turned to orient himself as the next pair of legs descended through the hatch.

  Vaughn’s gaze met mine, and he smiled grimly in the vivid lights. “You should’ve let me go first.”

  “Vaughn.” I bit my lip against the rising anger. “I’m a Hunter. This is my job.”

  “I know, but—”

  “Stop,” I snapped. “This is what I do, just like you. Yes, it’s dangerous, but I don’t want any special privileges because I’m a girl.”

  He stepped closer, and I looked up into his eyes. The blue intensified as he backed me against the wall.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered and placed his hand on the wall beside my head. “But it’s not because you’re a girl. It’s because it’s you, Ruby.” He put his other hand on the wall.

  My breath hitched, and I licked my lips. His lips parted slightly as they neared mine.

  “Well, this place is creepy,” Roan said, voice echoing.

  Vaughn dropped his head, sighed, and then dropped his arms. He stepped away and the moment was gone. I could breathe again. Justin was almost on the ground, and another set of legs was coming through the hatch.

  “What I want to know is how all this stuff is down here.” Justin motioned to the things that cluttered room. “I mean, none of this came through that hatch.”

  Luka jumped down to the floor and wiped his hands on his trousers. “I reckon there’s another way in somewhere. We might find it along the way.”

  Delta pulled the hatch closed as he stepped onto the ladder, and I fought a wave of panic as the light from the square disappeared, hoping we weren’t trapped down there.

  “So what do we have down here?” Delta stepped onto the ground.

  “Storage, I reckon,” Luka said.

  “And several doors,” Roan said.

  Delta nodded as he surveyed the scene. “Okay. We stick together now. There’s no telling what we’re going to find down here, and I don’t want anybody splitting up.”

  There were four doors. We started with the one at the back of the room, behind the ladder. It turned out to be a storage cupboard with papers and files stacked on boxes and shelves that looked on the verge of collapse. The smell of damp permeated everything, and one of the boxes was labelled, Sermons 1987-1990.

  “Wow, these are old.” Roan shook his head. “Who would want to keep them after all this time?”

  “My guess is that not a lot of people come down here,” Delta said, “so they’re safe tucked away here.”

  “Who do you think visits the basement?” Luka pushed the door shut.

  “Not Tom,” Vaughn said. “If he knew some of this was here, he’d have a fit and haul it upstairs to be used in a play.”

  “That leaves Pete,” Delta said.

  “What would Pete want with the basement?” Luka asked. “The café’s storage area is upstairs.”

  “Beats me.” Vaughn shrugged.

  The second door, on the right side of the ladder, held a staircase. The concrete steps led up and to the right. Our torch beams followed the path and came to a door at the top.

  “There’s your other entrance,” Roan said as his light rested on a padlock.

  “But why lock it up like this?” Luka asked. “And where’s the door on the ground floor?”

  “Could be one of the ones near the offices,” Vaughn said. “There were a couple we couldn’t get into last night.”

  I nodded. “Makes sense. But why it would be locked, I’m not sure.”

  “And I think if that was the case, Tom would know it was here,” Vaughn said.

  “Let’s keep moving,” Delta said.

  We trekked across to the third door. It creaked open, and we were greeted with a spacious room. It took my eyes some time to adjust to the gloom, and as they did, I made out stacks of school chairs, a couple of stacked pews, boxes of more paperwork, shelving, books, and a large piece of furniture, which I presumed would’ve been an altar, the woodwork cracked and fading. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust and cobwebs.

  That only left door number four.

  Delta was in front, with Luka at his side. I glanced at Vaughn and reached out. My fingers brushed against his, and as he grabbed my hand, a warm reassurance flowed through me.

  The fourth door stood opposite the ladder, the wood rotted. Delta grabbed the old handle, twisted and yanked. The door gave beneath his weight, and as it swung open, we were hit with a tidal wave of icy air and the stench of death. Gagging, I turned away and sucked in a lungful of air as I tried to quell my terror.

  When I turned back around, Delta and Luka had their guns pointed.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  My stomach dropped and the knot swelled, weighing me down like an anchor. My feet felt like they were filled with lead as I stared at the darkness. I sucked in a deep breath through my mouth to avoid the acrid smell seeping into the main room. With shaking fingers, I fumbled with my holster and withdrew the pistol. Shells of rock salt were already in place, and I just had to knock the safety off.

  I glanced to my right and saw Vaughn’s gun in his hand. He held it in steady hands, his index finger clinging to the trigger. I took another breath and closed my eyes. I was ready.

  Delta stepped forward, swiftly followed by Luka on silent feet. I followed, Vaughn at my side, Justin and Roan bringing up the rear. As we snaked through the dim, frigid tunnel, I held my breath. I heard the odd breath or the scuffle of a boot, but nothing more. My shoulders were wrenched into my neck as I kept my arms high and gun steady. My thighs burned from the crouching position. I pointed the gun barrel forward and down even though the safety was on. I didn’t trust myself yet. Training and real life were very different situations.

  On and on we crept. Tension hung around us like a storm cloud that would break any moment. I heard something. Stopped dead in my tracks, motioned for everyone to be still, and cocked my head. There it was again. Sounded like a drip.

  “Do you guys hear that?” I whispered.

  “Let’s keep going,” Delta said. “Be ready for anything.”

  We continued, one foot in front of the other. The drip remained, and I found my feet moving in time with the sound. I imagined a burst pipe dripping the last of its water to the floor, and unease settled in my stomach. Soon, in the dim light cast by the six torches, another door came into view. This one was different. Instead of wood, it was metal. It looked ancient, the hinges rusted, and the square window set into the door so covered in grime that the view inside was shie
lded. It hadn’t been closed properly, the door just off the latch. And as we stepped closer, the dripping got louder. With each drip, my heart thumped as if attempting to break out of my chest.

  Delta reached the door and paused, pressed his ear to the metal, listening, ear pressed to the metal. He put a finger to his lips, motioning for quiet. There was no sound except the constant drip, drip, drip coming from inside. My breath escaped in ragged pants.

  Be ready, Delta mouthed to us.

  I nodded and tightened the grip on my gun.

  Delta gripped the door handle, his knuckles white. He paused as if steeling himself, and then in a fluid motion, he pushed the door and rushed through. Luka was close behind him, and both men had their guns pointed. I rushed through the door, Vaughn’s arm pressed against mine, and my jaw dropped. I held the gun out in front of me as the torches illuminated the most grisly sight I’d ever seen.

  Blood spattered the walls, casting a scene akin to Hell. Blood had hit the ceiling and light fixtures and was dripping to the floor. As I stared at the ceiling, I saw that one of the lights was so matted in gore that it gave the entire room a macabre red glow. At my feet, the blood rivulets led towards a sunken drain in the centre of the floor.

  “Look,” Luka said.

  I followed his torch light until I saw a heap of pig carcasses. They were strewn in a pile that came to waist height, and the pink skin was glistening with blood. Then I saw something else, a darker shade, and I trained my beam on the area. It looked like…hair. I swallowed.

  I made out a figure with darker, tanned skin, and my stomach bubbled. My torch continued to rove until it glinted across the dead eyes of a person. Her hair hung behind her head, matted in gore, and her mouth hung open. A huge gash across her neck left a gaping wound. Her arm was missing just below the shoulder, and there was a hole in her chest. The ribs cracked and broken. Inside the cavity, I saw blood. And something was missing. Her heart.

  Beneath her, another body stuck out, the leg chopped off at the thigh, the stump glistening with sinews and muscle, bone protruding. A young woman lay on the floor, the muscles torn from her bones. Another body lay beside her, the eyes gouged. I saw the body of a child. That of an older woman.

  I gagged and turned away, pushing my forearm to my mouth. Around me, I heard dry heaving and coughing. The stench was overpowering, but the sight was worse. All this death, destruction, and all beneath a former church. I was willing to bet that all those bodies were on Bridgendale’s missing list.

  “Who did this?” I whispered after regaining some composure.

  I couldn’t bear to look at the bodies anymore, and now anger was building. White-hot rage that flashed through my system, setting my senses on fire. I scanned the room again and saw a long shape. I stepped forward and heard something moving beside me. In my peripheral, I saw that it was Vaughn. As I moved closer, I realised that the long shape was a bench that stretched the length of the back wall. It was crudely made and held up with crates in certain places, and in others, lengths of wood. Obviously, whoever had done all this had made a few additions to the basement. On top of the bench, I saw various machines, all covered in gore and blood and meat, and the realisation dawned on me. Meat. It had been—they had been put through the machine, ground up, and spat out.

  Nausea roiled, making my stomach heave, and I turned away. As I vomited, the hot torrent mixed with the blood flowing towards the drain in the centre. I heard someone else retch just as I’d managed to take a deep breath and control my reflexes.

  “Ruby.” A hand clasped my shoulder.

  I knew it was Vaughn.

  “You okay?”

  I shook my head. I was so far from okay it was unreal. I would never be okay again. All those people, taken. Killed. Eaten. I had known something was going on in that community centre. My body told me every time I entered the building or even neared it. The masses of the shadows had told us that, but never in a million years could I have imagined that scene. All those people. All those deaths. All the missing adults, children. They were all down here. I knew it.

  “Okay, guys,” Delta called us together.

  I turned towards his voice like a beacon in the dark. We stood in the centre of the room, and I tried not to look at the gore that trod in, scared that I would hurl again. Vaughn pressed his shoulder against mine and grabbed my hand.

  “This is real bad, but we have to figure it out,” Delta said. “We stick together no matter what. Agreed.”

  “Agreed,” we said in unison.

  Just then, I heard another noise. I turned and saw another door leading from the blood pit and swallowed hard.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  We moved through a dungeon of gore and blood, our steps in sync, towards a doorway tucked in the corner. A thud sounded, followed by a sickening splash, and I gulped, dreading what we’d find behind that door.

  We reached the other side of the basement. I moved around a pool of blood and grimaced. Vaughn held his gun steady out in front of him, his shoulders tight, muscles wound like a coiled tiger. Once we got to the door, everyone paused as Delta listened. I sucked in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Delta reached down, fingers splayed, and grabbed the handle. The rest of us stood, with our guns held high and legs spread. He looked back, nodded, then yanked the door open.

  I gasped when I saw the monster in there.

  Pete.

  He sat behind a round dining table full to the brim with slop. Blood and pink flesh. Eyes. Fingers. This man—this pig was eating people.

  The lump in my throat got stuck as I stared at the sight, my mind unable to comprehend what was going on.

  Pete looked at us with a gave a lazy grin. His eyes were black, and his smile stretched wider and wider until it split his skin and blood trickled down his cheeks. His stomach protruded onto the table, the rolls of pink fat covering some of his intended meal. His thick legs had grown, and instead of feet he had trotters.

  “Oh, my God,” I whispered.

  All of this, the disappearances, the fascination with food, the…cannibalism. This wasn’t Pete. This was Gluttony. The people going missing, the masses of shadow demons crowding to be near a higher power, clamouring for the blood that festered under the church. Gluttony to the worst degree.

  Nausea rolled in my stomach again as I thought about all the reports. I wondered how many of the people who’d gone missing had ended up down here. How had nobody noticed that they were all being forced into the depths of the city beneath the roundabout? How had the stench of death not been followed?

  I unclicked the safety of my gun and aimed it at him, my hand steady. “Why?” I growled.

  Pete laughed, the rolls of fat jiggling on the table. His jowls flapped across his chin, and blood continued to trickle from the corners of his mouth.

  “Ruby,” the deep voice boomed. “Ruby Dawson. I wondered when you would figure it out.”

  I gritted my teeth.

  It knew my name. I never gave it to Pete.

  “Why are you doing this?” I said.

  “My dear.” He leaned back on the wooden chair, which groaned under his weight. Pete’s once-raspy voice was now ethereal, as darkness had taken over. “There are many reasons why sins are committed all over the world. Why should it be any different here? Now?”

  “Why are the sins here?” I growled.

  He laughed again, his stomach rolling and splitting, the skin searing down the side and lacerating to show the pink flesh beneath. Blood seeped from the wound.

  “Surely you must know by now.” He cocked his head and bared his teeth.

  I balked when I saw the pieces of torn flesh between his teeth. His meaty fists pounded the table. His skin was yellow and sagging. The extra flesh on his arms flapped with his movements.

  I pressed my finger onto the trigger, ready to fire.

  Pete began to push his weight up. His belly strained against the table, and the wooden legs scraped against the tiled floor in a screech.

  I
winced.

  He drew himself up to full height and turned to face us on Neanderthal legs. His trotters barely kept his body steady, and he wobbled as his weight threatened to topple him over.

  “Stay where you are,” I ordered.

  I was strong, powerful. I was the one in charge. And I would send it back to hell, where it deserved to be.

  Pete laughed. His sagged pec muscles wobbled beneath the overextended chef whites. The buttons were stretched to their limit as the material struggled to cover his huge frame.

  “You think you have authority over me?” he said. “Until you accept what you are, you remain nothing more than a girl.”

  “You’re wrong,” I said, voice full of grit and steel.

  He cocked his head, and his pointed ears pricked.

  “I’m Ruby Emmy Dawson. And I’m a Hunter.”

  I opened fire.

  Chapter Forty

  We sat there for hours in the blood-soaked basement, waiting for Sheila. Surrounded by so much death and destruction and the nauseating reality of what had gone down in those rooms left me beyond exhausted. We were all silent, lost in our thoughts. So much had been lost, and all because of one sin. I dreaded to think how many people Pete had skewered and served up in the café. I shuddered when I recalled the way he tried to feed everyone who came near.

  Justin had managed to find another way out of the place. Behind a set of shelves in the room where Gluttony was trapped, he found a small door. After opening it, he followed the ascending passage and came out near the river. He left that door open so we could have fresh air, but it still didn’t get rid of the stench of that place. I don’t think it’ll ever be gone.

  Just as dawn arrived, the tiniest sliver of the grey morning chasing down the passage towards us, I heard the trample of footsteps outside. Sheila strode in through the door like she owned the place. Despite the hour, she still looked like a woman put together. Her hair was neat and straight, and her outfit was wrinkle-free. I looked down at myself and saw dirt and dust and even a few streaks of red where I’d failed to step around the blood.