Monsters and Invisible Men (Lost Souls Book 1) Page 11

  Ivan kept walking to get away from it, keeping his eyes on Zerachiel, and found himself at the fallen-in exit to the building. He heard a voice which he was beginning to know well.

  “Ivan.” It was Ciara. She was so happy to see him that the reaper almost didn’t remember that he and Zerachiel might be about to die. Focus, he told himself, you can be pleased about being liked later when you are sure you will be alive for the next five minutes.

  “Can’t stop. Have to help my angel.” Ivan started towards Zerachiel, trying to think of some way to help, when someone swept past him in a blur.

  “Sorry.” Ivan muttered. He would have kept on with his life and never thought of the encounter again if it hadn’t had been for what happened next.

  The woman shook chains out in her hand from around her waist. A small knife was in her other hand. A standing girl not too far from Ivan had no time to react as the chain whipped out like a hair in the breeze. When it made contact with her, the she wolf fell onto the floor and howled. The noise distracted the gargoyle who had pinned Zerachiel almost to the floor when Ivan had been distracted and whose claws loomed just a breath from Zerachiel’s chest. In one heartbeat, Zerachiel kicked back from the gargoyle and drew his angel’s sword from the sheath at his side. It glistened like the surface of a calm sea. The silver blade was unblemished and sharp edged. The lights of the disco flickered off the blade and into Ivan’s eyes.

  Zerachiel thrashed the sword, drawing a slice on the monster’s midsection. It reared back with a boneshaking cry. It was far from defeated and turned on the angel in god like fury with its teeth bared and claws at the ready.

  By now, the woman had ended the miserable girl in a flurry of burning chains and stabs. Ivan was shocked by how quickly she had done it. Upon seeing the death of their friend, the rest of the pack turned into great hairy beasts. Their fur was matted, and they had long faces with jaws full of teeth like ice picks. Ivan winced. The smell of wet dog was poisonous.

  “Jesus,” he scoffed, “they need to invest in air freshener or something in here.”

  He inhaled the stench of the vodka in his hand instead.

  The woman tore through the wolves like they were made of cardboard. The smack of muscles and wet flesh meeting the ground was enough to make Ivan’s teeth rattle against each other.

  Ciara flinched, just avoiding a knocked-out wolf fang that flew towards her head. “This is not these dog’s day.” She laughed nervously.

  Ivan was transfixed by how many people were dying in the room. Some of the souls must be his to reap and his alone. Ironic that now he was standing right beside where they died but he was blind to them.

  There were too many deaths to belong to just one reaper. If he was right then there was a reaper here and they were trapped behind the glass, hearing all but screaming into nothing. Clutching the dying and draining their souls.

  Echoing the same cry, they had a million times. Hear me.

  Playing the same fools’ role as the performance before. Pretending they weren’t invisible and unknown.

  Trying to convince themselves that they don’t care.

  Ivan laughed. Sucker needed an angel to bust them out. The more he thought about it, the more he became aware of how lucky he was and the more he was sure that he was never going back there.

  Never.

  ***

  Abyzou tore into the pack like the ocean does into the shoreline. Jagged pieces of bone made the rocks which the ocean had already ripped into. Skin dangled like moss; blood dripped like water. One wolf started to run away from her. On skinny legs, he abandoned his companions. Abyzou struck out and caught one of his limbs with the chain. It seared into the flesh. Her mouth watered at the smell of barbeque. Dragging him to her side she fired the knife into the back of his throat.

  Wolves flew around everywhere and decapitated anything they could get a hold of. This included the furniture and the speaker. When the music ceased, the snarls were the loudest thing in the room.

  “Stop,” a male voice complained, “you will spill my drink. Well its not mine but...”

  “Come on,” a woman pleaded. Abyzou searched the room for the human voices. The wolves obscured her line of sight in every direction. They didn’t seem sure where the enemy was in the room which was only illuminated by disorienting disco lights. They charged around without reason.

  “No. We can’t leave Zerachiel. He is being chased down by a crazy...” He hesitated. “Thing.”

  Noticing someone waving a hand in the direction of the gargoyle, Abyzou finally saw the sources of the voices. One she knew was human. Flushed and scared, the girl was too alive to be anything else. She stared at the guy for a while. Something about him was familiar and foreign at the same time. The dopy look. The weird reactions to the situation. The fact that he was still holding a drink during all of this.

  How did the prisoners escape hell? She knew that something weakened hell. She also knew that the guy in front of her wasn’t human. He must be a reaper.

  ***

  Ivan noticed the I-will-explode-your-head look on the strange womans face before she reached him and pointed to her and elbowed Ciara. “What did I do to her?”

  She had dark hair that was damp with blood and wore a sweatshirt that was too large for her with black knee height boots. She was beautiful but in an unnerving kind of way. She reminded Ivan of a volcano on the brink of exploding.

  Ciara didn’t get to answer before the woman swung her knife at Ivan’s head. He ducked. The drink was still in the glass.

  “Hey mate.” Ivan jumped back as she went for him again. Then a wolf got between them and tried to chew off Ivan’s head. Jaws clapped in front of his face and like any man would, he squealed. The new woman saved the damsel with a powerful swing of the chains around the animal’s throat. She drove her knife into its neck when she had it pinned down.

  “Well,” Ivan dusted off his suit with his free hand. The drink was still okay. “You’re a weird one. Do you want me dead or not?”

  “You need to fix your mistake.” She ushered them into a nearby room and shut the door. They had to run to keep up with her hurried steps. Without pausing for a breath, she slid an old dresser from against the wall to in front of the door. It was quieter in this room and Ivan could relax. Then he remembered Zerachiel again.

  “Great,I have met a lot of people like you with that same thing to say each time.” He made to pass her. “Now I am gonna go and get my mate.”

  She stopped him with a knife against his throat.

  “Rude.” Ivan remarked to Ciara. The metal of the blade was suspiciously warm on his neck.

  “If its rude to save your life then yes, it is. Otherwise it is necessary to stop you from killing yourself with stupidity.” She never broke eye contact with him.

  “Even ruder.” Ivan tossed the drink in her face.

  She didn’t flinch.

  “Aww.” Ivan looked back at Ciara. “It always looked more exciting when the humans did it in real life”.

  The violent stranger jumped when the door trembled with impact. She turned towards it and shoved Ivan behind her. She watched it in a crouched position, ready to strike whatever came through the door. “If you want to live shut up and do nothing.”

  Ivan laughed at this and went for the door. It rattled again and cracked in the middle with a resounding boom. There was another crash from the other side and a piece of wood splintered off in a sword shape.

  Ivan jumped away, both feet leaving the floor at the same time. “Right, forgot the dogs.”

  “They aren’t a problem.” The woman dragged the chain over to the door, letting it clatter against the stone floor, so the wolf would know what was coming.

  “Oh, something worse is gonna happen, wonderful.” Ciara spoke so high-pitched that only those with very acute hearing would understand her. “There was me thinking that there was only one type of monster out tonight.” She was smiling widely and it unnerved Ivan.

  “The gar
goyle.” As if she had uttered a curse, the woman was now faced with the wolf who broke past the door. More flooded in, like sand through fingers. She flew at them like a striking cobra. Ivan held in the scream which would surely embarrass him more than the squeal had. Through the chaos a thought dawned on him.

  He nibbled the loose skin on the side of his finger. “Zerachiel was with a sorta gargoyle looking thing.”

  ***

  He stalked after the light. Craved the sun of it to burn his irises and lusted for the taste of the flesh he was sure he had never sampled before. It had escaped him once, but he was on its trail through the dark. He could smell its scent, like rich wine and fresh sea air. He knew it was hiding behind one of the walls up ahead. Saliva gushed into his mouth at the thought of tasting its flesh, so soft and warm, its blood, sweet.

  A wolf trotted at his side. He resented the animal’s loud steps. She would give them away and then the prey would flee. Or worse, the wolf would take the first bite. Both creatures walked along side by side, but the gargoyle watched the wolf rather than the prey.

  Her paws hit the ground in a noisy rhythm. Lift, hit, lift, hit, one step ahead of him. She needed to be stopped before she took the prize.

  The gargoyle’s powerful arm flung the wolf to the side. She toppled and hit the floor. The animal stood again and ducked her head in submission. She knew that Nick was the leader and what he said went. She trusted him.

  He was not Nick at the moment.

  Her head went down, slowly. The gargoyle landed on her. The wolf whimpered and squeaked. He shut her up with a slash to the skull. His claws came away from her head warm and wet. Drops of blood tapped against the floor as they slid from his long talons.

  He sensed that the prey had moved while he had been busy. Not too far though. Its scent was still strong. The image of licking crimson blood off the feathers of the prey’s white wings flashed in his mind. He shivered and rumbled a growl.

  Crashing down the passageway the gargoyle was illuminated by beams of light through the broken ceiling. Dots of white from the moon decorated the otherwise tar skin and patchy fur. It ran with the primal need to catch prey and total disregard for whatever was in its way.

  Stampeding along, the gargoyle couldn’t quickly turn around the corner which he passed. From that corner, the prey swung a sword and caught the monster in the stomach. It folded over the blade. The gargoyle stopped and staggered against the wall. He slid into a heap and didn’t move. He held his breath as the prey crept closer and raised the sword again.

  Once the prey was close enough, he flung his huge body up and threw his weight against it. The air was knocked out of its lungs with a whoosh and he pressed his advantage by digging his claws into its shoulder and smacking its head against the wall. Its eyes spun around, trying to find something to focus on. It reached a hand into the air as it toppled forwards and onto its knees. He heard its bones crunch against the unforgiving ground. Saliva spilt over the side of his teeth in a great waterfall. He looked down on his prey while its head lulled from one side to the other and it barely held onto the blade in its weak fingers.

  He clutched a wing, puncturing the skin and bones there, and pulled. The prey screamed and tears rolled down its cheeks as a chunk of feathers tore away with a sharp snap. He could see bone marrow. The sweet soft centre that tasted so wonderful. Blood dashed on the marrow and both made a mouth-watering pink. He threw the mangled piece of wing he had from his hand. Using one foot to pin the prey down, he licked at the exposed marrow. It hollered shamelessly, beating the ground with its fists. Its body was shaking with pain and shock.

  He then pushed the wing further from its back until he heard the bone going into its shoulder give way with a bang. The gargoyle lived out the fantasy and licked the drops of blood off the feathers near the missing section. It was better than he had thought it would be. Tensing his arms, he prepared to remove what was left of the wing. The prey whimpered and he thought he heard it saying sorry to someone called Christopher.

  ***

  Ivan had been running through this place of horrors with Ciara and the violent stranger for ages. At least he thought it was ages. They still hadn’t found Zerachiel. He knew he had heard him scream. Ciara had argued that it could have been anyone. The stranger gave a slight shake of her head. According to her, everyone here was a wolf.

  Any who had come through the door were cut down like annoying ivy vines who grew too far. Now the stranger was shaking with exhaustion and the rest of the wolves seemed to be in hiding or they couldn’t find them. Ivan didn’t blame her. He didn’t tell her, but he was impressed that she had lasted this long after all the fighting she had been doing.

  Ivan knew there was something odd about her, but he would pursue it later. He needed to find his friend. Something seemed fake about the world without Zerachiel. Like all that Ivan had lived was just a dream and it slipped further into his mind the more he tried to remember. He felt like an imaginary friend that could be banished at the harsh word of a child. He needed Zerachiel. Throughout all the years he had existed, Zerachiel was the one thing that was real. Without him, Ivan didn’t have anything to hold onto. He would be washed away in this rip tide of a world and disappear just like before.

  All of this hammered inside his head as he ran. This was the first time that Ivan had experienced running and if felt free and like he was getting to something important. It also took a lot of effort.

  Ivan saw Zerachiel underneath a weird shape and at first thought it may be a piece of furniture because it was all darkness and sharp angles. Then it moved its jagged jaws up and Ivan knew what it was. The stranger had called it a gargoyle. Ivan thought it was hideous and didn’t look much like the stone statues of gargoyles he had seen on churches. It had a lean almost human torso but long gangly animal legs. There were thick prominent muscles all along its body, standing out even in its neck and jaws. Its wings were wider than Ivan’s body and were resting loosely by its sides. It had a fine coat of mangy fur and one wolf ear. On the other side of its skull was a curved horn. Its snout was shorter than the wolves, but it had enough room for plenty of teeth that were as large as Ivan’s hand. It made his stomach turn as it suckled at the marrow inside Zerachiel’s wing. The wing in question was ripped in half, Ivan couldn’t see the other part of it but the piece that was still attached to Zerachiel was bent at a harsh angle from his body, clearly the bones that connected it to him were broken. Ivan knew that it wouldn’t take much for the monster to rend the wing from Zerachiel’s back now. Ivan acted on instinct. He stole the knife from the stranger’s hand.

  She glared at it.

  He ran on.

  Ciara grasped for his arm, but he shrugged her off and ran on.

  The stench of blood almost choked him. Voices in his head told him to run. His heart beat a million times a second.

  He ran on.

  The creature bent the wing at an angle to break it off.

  Ivan jumped on its back lodging the knife in its shoulder blade. The impact when the blade hit bone made Ivan’s wrist ache. The monster twirled fast. Ivan fell off and kissed the floor on landing. His face was damp with the creature’s blood. He turned his head and the blood slipped onto the corner of his mouth. He sat up and vomited. His body wrenched as if under attack and the watery substance poured out in splashes.

  “Never done that before,” Ivan croaked and wiped his face.

  The gargoyle was about to strike Ivan. It reared up and bent its bony fingers to make the perfect claw. The muscles in its arm tightened and the dark eyes narrowed.

  It stopped. The strange woman had trudged into the middle of the room and locked eyes with it. She was shaking. A swift breeze may even have levelled her. Her sticky hair was falling loose and stroking her face in the breeze. The moon light reflected off her sweat coated skin and her breathing was high pitched, like the draw of a bow on violin strings.

  Ivan crawled away from his own puke and watched the exchange of looks.

&
nbsp; Then the beast spread its devil’s wings and flew through the hole in the roof. Pieces of rubble from the impact with the edges, clattered around Zerachiel. The angel weakly threw up his hands to defend his face and rolled out of the way of the falling stone. The nightmare was gone, and Ivan went to help his friend.

  The woman lingered where she was and gazed at where the gargoyle had left through with her mouth set in a firm line.

  Ciara rushed to help Zerachiel while she whimpered. He quivered and Ivan hugged him gently.

  “Aww mate,” Ivan moaned, “I thought you were dead.” He regained control and sat back from the hug. He coughed gently. “And if you die then I will turn into Casper the friendly ghost again.”

  Zerachiel didn’t laugh. In fact, he didn’t move at all. One half of his wing lay bloody across the floor and a trail of feathers was all that linked the angel to it. The remainder of the wing sagged helplessly to the side against his back. It looked painful but Zerachiel didn’t cringe. The surviving wing was folded in against him, visible through the remains of his shredded shirt. Zerachiel’s face was covered in clean streaks through the grime, drawn by tears. Ciara stood by him and Ivan retrieved the sword and placed it with Zerachiel.

  “Alright, what was that between you and the big bad... what ever it is?” Ivan stormed to the woman and tried to look as scary as possible. He flattened his eyebrows onto his eyes.

  She sighed. “Calm down reaper.”

  “Calm down. My mate has just been savaged by your pet.”