Secrets & Souls - prequel to The Soul Guide

The effect on Bertram was immediate. The temperature of the corridor was sub-zero. Every breath he took scored his throat and mouth, like he was swallowing shards of ice and glass. His body felt heavy as though he were walking through quicksand and he was losing energy with every futile step.

Then there was the smell. It smelt of rotting flesh, of death and decay.

“Carlo, what the hell is this stuff?” Bertram said, instantly regretting opening his mouth. The darkness didn’t just smell like death, it tasted like it too, and he coughed on it until his eyes watered. What the hell was going on?

“Try not to speak. Just follow me,” Carlo said, through gritted teeth. This time Bertram just nodded.

He walked behind Carlo, barely able to make out his shape in front of him. They moved forward slowly, the sparks of silver and red lighting up the corridor momentarily. Bertram hoped that none of the other residents were home. Imagine opening your front door into this? The air was cloying, thick, and he longed more than ever for the fresh air of home. He decided then and there that if he survived this, Mellissa and he would return to Clayhill and they would never step foot outside its grounds again. To hell with her feelings. Being cooped up in the safety of Clayhill was better than running into this. Whatever the hell this was.

Bertram’s thoughts were interrupted by a claw-like shiver that feathered across his neck. He stopped and turned, peering into the darkness. At first, he thought he was imagining it. That his eyes, and his fear, were playing tricks on him. Then, that overwhelming urge to run slammed into him and he knew the dark shape at the end of the corridor was the kind of nightmare he might not wake up from.

He attempted to move through the cloying darkness towards Carlo who seemed such a long way off from him now, but his legs wouldn’t move no matter how much he willed them to. He looked down at his feet and saw what appeared to be the twisted roots of an old oak tree wrapping tightly around his ankles. Only these roots were black and pitted with blood-red veins pulsing just beneath the surface. Bertram tried to scream, but found that his mouth only filled with the noxious darkness. He felt it slide down his throat with intent, and he was certain he would have suffocated had he not projectile vomited all over himself. Even the vomit was black. He wiped a shaking hand against his mouth and found his face was wet with tears. He hadn’t even realised he was crying.

Before he had a chance to warn Carlo of the danger, of what was following them, the creature within the dark was upon him. Bertram was barely able to let out a scream before it had pinned him to the ground. The creature’s long, dank hair hung in a tangled mess about its scarred and pitted face. Its greying skin was covered in pustules that bubbled and blistered as its gaping, toothless mouth began to move as though to speak. Behind its head, Bertram could see the clawed tips of two long wings that were now fanned out above them both. The wings were torn in places and bleeding. The wounds looked fresh.

The creature laughed, the sound like sharp nails scraping down a chalkboard. “This was more than I could have hoped for,” it hissed. The smell of its putrid breath made Bertram heave, and it was all he could do to stop himself from puking in its face. “I came for the Stripling and instead I find you.”

“Stripling?” Bertram stuttered.

“The child, of course. Except I found a Warrior instead. The foolish boy thought he could end me. It takes a lot more than a few scratches to do that.” The creature threw its head back and cackled. Bertram shivered under its touch.

“What have you done to Victor?” Bertram said, unsure why he felt the need to engage in a conversation with the creature. Both intense fear, and the instinct to survive kicking in. If he could keep it talking, perhaps he could find a way out of this situation.

“I taught him a lesson he will never forget. There is no escaping my mark once it has been made. That stupid boy will never be free of me now.” Bertram turned his face away from the monster in a vain attempt to avoid the long drools of spittle that were dripping from its mouth. He felt the wetness as it landed on his cheek, followed very quickly by an indescribable pain. He cried out in agony as the creature’s spit burned through a layer of skin and muscle.

“Please, you don’t need to do this,” Bertram said, through gritted teeth.

“Ask me again nicely and we shall see what I can do,” the creature rasped.

“Please. Let me go.”

“No.” The creature threw its head back and laughed. Bertram could see the underside of its jaw, or rather, what was left of it. It was only then he noticed the layers of teeth in the roof of the creature’s mouth, like that of a shark. He shuddered.

“What do you want with me?” Bertram asked, desperately trying to ignore the pain in his cheek, and the fear in his chest. He had never, in all his life, been so terrified. If he ever got through this, he hoped that his brain would block out the memory. If it didn’t, he knew he would never rest easy again.

“I want you of course. Your delicious, ripe soul. I want that. Are you going to give it to me?” the creature said.

“My soul? What? No. No, no, no,” Bertram struggled in the creature’s grip, but it was no use, he was pinned to the floor by the weight of its body.

“Oh, this is just too delicious,” the creature said, as it dug its talons deeper into Bertram’s shoulder blades. The creature was strong. Bertram screamed out in pain.

“Get off me,” he said, bucking his hips in a last-ditch attempt to throw the creature off. But he couldn’t get any leverage. The creature straddled his waist, trapping his arms and legs beneath its festering body. It lowered its mouth to Bertram’s, and he gagged once again at the smell. It was so close he could now make out the scars covering every inch of skin that wasn’t a boil or bloody sore. He closed his eyes against the sight, wondering where the hell Carlo was and why he hadn’t come to rescue him.

“He won’t be back for you now. The boy is more important to him than you are. You think he cares about you? No-one cares about you. You, dear one, are expendable.”

“No, that isn’t true.”

“Of course, it is, you stupid man. It’s been a whole month since she left and not once did she try to contact you to see how you were. You know that woman does not love you despite all you’ve done for her. It would be so much easier for her if you were dead.”

“No,” Bertram sobbed. The creature was getting inside his head and he wouldn’t let it. Mellissa might not love him, but he knew she cared about him. Didn’t she?

“It would be better for all concerned if you let this happen. Her life would be so much easier if you were no longer in it. You’re nothing but an irritating gnat begging for her attention.”

Bertram looked at the creature and stopped struggling. It was right, Mellissa didn’t love him. Would never love him. What was the point of carrying on knowing he would have to live with that torture every day for the rest of his life? There was no point, and once he realised that he accepted what was going to happen.

“That’s it, dear one. Make this easier on yourself, on everyone. Just let go. She may not have wanted you, but I want you my darling,” the creature said, it’s voice changing into a familiar lilt. Changing into the soft cadences of the woman he loved.

Bertram felt his head swim. For a moment, he didn’t know where he was. Was he dreaming? It felt like a dream. He could feel the fogginess of it, and yet, it was so real. Mellissa was so real. She was above him, smiling, her soft, red hair tickling his face. She was so close he could see the flecks of gold in her emerald eyes. She was so beautiful. All he ever wanted was to be loved by her, and here she was so close. He smiled, lifting a hand to her cheek. She leaned into his palm, her eyes closing briefly before she lowered her mouth to his. Bertram felt the pull of the kiss as though a little piece of himself was being consumed by her. He would give her it all, his heart, his soul, his life, just to feel as loved as he did right then.

“GET OFF HIM!”

Bertram felt Mellissa move away, the weight of her body no longer upon him. He cried out, but his voice was weak and came out no louder than a whimper. He could barely open his eyes but when he did, what he saw above him was as confusing as it was frightening. Mellissa had gone, replaced instead with a hideous, black, winged creature.

“No,” he mouthed, too weak to articulate the horror and the pain he felt in that moment. It had all been a mirage. The creature had fooled him. Heavy, wet tears poured unbidden down his face, stinging his face and lips. Why did his face hurt so much? Why did he feel like he had acid poured all over him? Why couldn’t he move now the creature had stood up above him?

He heard the creature laugh. “Just when I was getting to the good part,” it said.

“GET THE HELL AWAY FROM HIM.”

Bertram had just about enough energy to turn his head to the side. Coming out of a door at the end of the corridor was Mellissa, and she was angry as hell. He tried to call out, to tell her to run, to get out of there, but he couldn’t form the words in his mouth. His tongue had swollen to twice its size.

Mellissa stepped closer to them both, her hands held out in front of her. He watched her move through the darkness as though it were nothing. It didn’t seem to bother her in the same way it had bothered him. It was only then that he noticed something different about her. She was glowing. Her whole body was encased in a pure, white light and it pulsed around her, sparks of colour zapping through it. She looked fierce, her anger as dazzling as the light she emitted.

The creature backed away from her. Bertram caught its eye. It looked both furious and a little scared, though it tried to hide it behind a smile. “This has turned out to be quite an interesting day,” it said. “But, I am bored now. You can have him, bitch. He’s a little too old for my tastes anyway.” The creature swivelled on its feet, ready to take off running in the opposite direction.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Mellissa snarled, as a flash of scorching white light erupted from her hands and hit the creature’s shoulder. It screamed in surprise and anger as shards of light tore its arm from its body.

The creature turned and hissed at Mellissa, its blood-red eyes narrowing. “It’s been fun Pure One, but I must depart. You won’t be so lucky next time we meet,” it said, before stepping through a door made of skin and bone, and disappearing from view.

Mellissa fired another shot of light from her outstretched hand, but it only passed through the spot where the creature once stood, dispersing the cloying darkness instead. Neither the door, nor the creature remained.

Bertram turned his head to see Mellissa rushing towards him before passing out cold