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Authors: Kaine Andrews

Darkness of the Soul (30 page)

How
long
he
continued,
he
did
not
know;
far
longer
than
any
of
the
scripts
he
had
been
provided
with
should
have
lasted
was
all
he
knew.
But
eventually,
the
words
seemed
to
take
effect,
and
the
beast
seemed
to
diminish
somehow.
He
could
feel
the
mental
rape
of
its
thoughts
over
his
own
beginning
to
fade
and
his
own
mind
taking
command
again.
The
shoulders
began
to
slump,
the
faces
ceased
screaming
and
pulled
back
into
the
tumorous
flesh
from
which
they
had
sprung,
and
the
eyes
in
the
main
face
seemed
to
lose
some
of
their
hideous,
toxic
glow.

Finally,
even
the
part
of
it
that
he
had
a
hold
on
began
to
fade;
it
was
like
trying
to
grab
onto
something
made
of
smoke.
As
his
fingers
began
to
close
together,
the
remaining
parts
of
the
beast
seemed
to
fold
inwards,
reshaping
themselves
into
something
that
looked
almost
human.

Almost
was
the
key
word,
of
course;
nobody
would
mistake
what
was
standing—floating,
actually—for
a
human
being
unless
they
were
blind
and
deaf.
The
face
was
half
rotted
away,
the
eye
on
that
side
remaining
a
cancerous
green
and
gleaming
with
hateful
intelligence;
on
the
other
side,
the
flesh
was
perfect
and
flawless,
more
like
porcelain
than
skin,
with
one
bright
blue
eye.
The
curved
ram’s
horns
remained
in
place,
protruding
from
thick
blond
hair
that
hung
to
the
creature’s
waist.
Its
teeth
were
sharp
and
metallic,
like
the
casts
some
folks
took
of
wolf
jaws,
and
clacked
together
viciously,
as
though
it
was
trying
to
bite
the
air
itself.
Unfurling
from
its
back,
the
wings
remained,
the
left
a
tattered
thing
that
had
more
in
common
with
a
rotted
ship
sail
made
of
leather
than
anything
a
natural
creature
might
fly
with,
while
the
right
was
a
magnificent
display,
dove
feathers
spread
out
to
make
it
appear
much
taller
than
it
really
was.
The
rest
of
the
body
was
hazy
and
indistinct,
hard
to
make
out,
and
Damien
thought
that
he
was
lucky
to
not
have
to
see
it;
he
was
somehow
sure
that
looking
at
the
rest
of
it,
even
in
this
form,
would
not
only
push
him
to
the
gates
of
insanity
but
send
him
tumbling
through
completely
and
permanently.

Incredibly,
the
thing—quite
obviously
in
pain
and
rage
at
the
one
who
had
dared
to
defy
it—was
laughing,
though
no
mortal
throat
could
make
such
a
sound,
and
mortal
ears
couldn’t
truly
hear
all
of
the
sound
that
it
was
making.
There
were
layers
underneath
that
horrid,
clotted
laughter,
and
there
were
words
in
those
places,
but
they
were
words
that
no
one
could
hear
or
understand
and
not
ones
that
any
sane
person
would
want
to,
regardless.

Then
it
began
to
speak,
and
Damien
almost
wished
that
he
had
gone
deaf;
it
spoke
the
same
way
it
laughed,
on
many
levels,
and
not
all
of
them
were
saying
the
same
thing.
The
one
he
could
make
out
was
likely
the
worst
of
the
batch
though.
It
gave
him
prophecies
of
death
and
destruction
and
told
him
a
dozen
other
things
besides.

In
the
years
since
that
night,
he
had
thought
often
of
what
the
creature
spoke
of
and
more
often
than
not
had
found
it
proved
correct.

He
didn’t
remember
what
happened
after
that,
not
clearly;
only
that
it
spoke
its
prophecy
and
then
dissipated
into
nothing
but
smoke,
fading
away
in
a
stinking
cloud
that
was
pulled
apart
by
a
slight
breeze
coming
from
somewhere
above.
By
the
time
it
was
gone,
the
hole
in
the
floor,
along
with
the
symbols
and
markings
they
had
placed
there
had
dissolved
into
the
ether
as
well,
leaving
no
sign
of
what
had
occurred.

Damien
stayed
in
that
amnesiac
fog
all
the
way
home,
glad
to
be
alive
and
daydreaming
about
Sheila’s
waiting
arms.

Chapter
27
 

5:00 pm, December 22, 1999

The four of them sat still in the nearly deserted homicide office, forming a rough circle with their chairs. If someone were to peer in at them, they might have the impression of overage Cub Scouts, swapping scary stories before lights out. They only needed a campfire in the middle of the room to complete the image.

Damien stopped, took a deep breath, and then knocked back the last few dribbles of alcohol in his bottle. He stared down at the surface of the desk, pushed the blotter around aimlessly, and did not say anything else.

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