Soulkeeper Read online

  “Not those flowers,” the faery said over her shoulder. “Though I’d still suggest not eating a winecup.”

  “Winecup?” Devin asked. “I assume named so because of their color?”

  “Color? Oh no, no.” She laughed. “Eat one of those and you will get completely sloshed in the bucket. I hear they’re popular at human parties. Well, they were. I suppose not anymore.”

  “The songmother referred to a great sleep,” Devin said, stepping over a long, thorned vine as thick as his arm. He tried tracing it back to the root but he never saw where they began. “And you’ve mentioned a similar sleep. What is it you mean by that?”

  “I mean what I say, that we slept,” Tesmarie said. “Hundreds of years, it seems.”

  “But where did you sleep? How did we not find you? And does that mean you existed upon the Cradle centuries ago, among our kind?”

  “So many questions,” the faery said, and she playfully zipped a circle around Devin’s head. “Questions, questions, questions, but I’ll answer as best I can. I say the Sisters banished us to a sleep because it’s the closest thing that makes any sense. One day we were part of your world, and then the next we… weren’t. We didn’t die. We weren’t undone. I was aware of time passing, but just… vaguely. Like the world was continuing in another room while I stayed in my bed and watched between naps.”

  Devin tried to imagine what that was like. Hundreds of years in slumber, with only a tiny sliver of understanding as to what happened around you. He remembered his conversation with Lavender, and her bemoaning the passing of time, and the deaths of all humans she’d known. How strange to think there was an age when these creatures had existed alongside them, however far in the past it might be.

  “We were aware of your kind during your slumber,” Devin said. “But only as stories and fables. Perhaps we knew those stories were true, once, but as time passed our belief in them faltered.”

  “Well, you believe in us now, right?”

  She accentuated the question with a quick twirl inches away from his nose. Devin laughed despite the exhaustion and horrors of the day.

  “Yes, little one,” he said. “I’d be insane to deny it otherwise.”

  “How long until we arrive?” Jacaranda asked from behind them. “Master wished me to return quickly, and we already know the loggers’ fates. This starlight tear is for your curiosity only.”

  “I came to discover why Janus attacked your camp,” Devin said. “As far as I’m concerned, we’re still learning why.”

  “It’s fine, let the soulless one be cranky,” Tesmarie said. “We’re almost there anyway.”

  There was a village of faeries, according to Tesmarie. She’d insisted that the starlight tear was kept in a shrine, and that if they asked nicely they could view it.

  “Are you sure we’ll be welcomed?” Devin asked. He gritted his teeth as an oak branch scratched the side of his face. “A lot of magical creatures I’ve met don’t seem very happy to meet me in return.”

  “Oh, I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Tesmarie said. “At least, I think, maybe, we’ll-find-out-just-how-happy-because-we’re-here!”

  Tesmarie stopped before what looked like any other tree in the dark forest. He saw no homes or signs of life across its many branches. Devin knew the faeries were diminutive in stature, but it still seemed improbable that they housed an entire village inside the trunk.

  “Are you sure?” Devin asked.

  “Am I sure?” Tesmarie laughed. “You ask silly questions sometimes.”

  She flew to the center of the trunk and pressed her hands together atop a prominent knot. At once the bark split open like a curtain, forming a passageway inside. Devin’s mind reeled. What he witnessed, the open space, sunlight, homes, none of it should fit in that impossible space.

  “Follow me,” the faery said cheerfully as she flew inside.

  “Well, you heard the woman,” Devin said to Jacaranda. “Best we not keep her waiting.”

  Devin passed between the bark, which formed an entryway a dozen feet long. He didn’t need to duck, which surprised him. Devin stepped out into a circular clearing that was hundreds of feet wide. Wooden walls stretched high above him, seemingly touching the blue circle of sky. Built upon either side of a dividing line of grass were stick and mud homes with leaves interlocked together to form their roofs. They piled onto one another, dozens and dozens, so that they filled all the space across the walls. Their similarity to doll houses sold at the Londheim markets was unmistakable.

  “Hello?” Tesmarie called as she zipped through the air. “Is anybody… home?”

  A soft gasp escaped her throat. Devin halted in the center of the village, dread swelling inside his chest. There was a reason no one had come to greet them. Lying beside his foot was a small faery similar in size to Tesmarie, only whereas Tesmarie’s skin was a deep black this one was white like marble. The faery lay on her back with her neck tilted at an awkward angle. Scarlet blood stained her skin and leaf-sewn dress.

  Devin turned and found two more lying beside one another on a rooftop. One was missing her arm. Another was missing his head entirely.

  “What… what happened… what happened to everyone?” Tesmarie asked. She zipped from home to home, calling out names. “Jeshua? Seyna? Cassia? Poeme? Please… someone… anyone?”

  Jacaranda joined Devin’s side. He noticed that her daggers were in hand, and she gently turned them within her grasp.

  “The village was attacked,” she said.

  “You soulless have a knack for stating the obvious.”

  “It is because I am confused as to by whom, or what.”

  Devin walked the dividing line through the village center. He saw more bodies tucked into little corners, all slain with severed limbs or long cuts that opened up their insides. Now that he had time to study the structures, he saw that many buildings had their rooftops caved in or their walls punctured in half. Whatever was responsible for the assault had been viciously thorough. It didn’t take long before Tesmarie abandoned her search for survivors and floated to the ground in the village’s center. Tears rolled down her cheeks and plinked like diamonds upon the smoothed bark. Devin went to her, and he knelt down so she might hear his softened voice.

  “I am sorry, little one.”

  “It’s awful,” she said. “I was here just yesterday and everyone was alive. They were alive, and happy, and beautiful-and-wonderful, and now, and now, and now-they’re-dead-oh-dragons-help-me-I-don’t-want-this-I-don’t-want-to-be-alone.”

  She bawled into her hands. Devin sat on his knees and quietly waited. He wished to comfort her, to offer her some sort of embrace, but given their difference in size he had not the slightest clue as to what would be appropriate. So he waited, keeping an eye out for whatever monster had slaughtered the faeries. There was something that confused him, but he did not want to broach it just yet. After a minute her tears slowed. Her breathing calmed, and it looked like she’d regained some measure of control over herself.

  “Sorry,” she said, as if she had anything to apologize about.

  “Tears are most appropriate for a sight such as this,” Devin told her. “Do you think you can talk now?” She nodded. “Please, I hope I do not offend, but I must ask. These faeries, they do not look as you do.”

  Tesmarie sniffled.

  “I’m an onyx fae, and my friends here, they were alabaster fae. They took me in after… after I left my other home. They were so kind, Devin. They wouldn’t hurt a bug or worm, not even the icky kinds. Who would do this?”

  “It could be the Janus person whom we have followed,” Jacaranda offered. Devin shook his head. Something about that felt off. Whoever this Janus was, he’d shown great pleasure in killing and mutating humans, whereas he’d brought a gift to the fellow human-hating songmother. Nothing about this felt like Janus’s style, not the target, not the apparent method of killing. He couldn’t discount it, though. Perhaps the fae had not turned the starlight tear over to him, and
he’d punished them in return?

  “Tes, you said the starlight tear was kept in a shrine. Might you show me where?”

  “I guess,” she said. Her wings fluttered to life. “This way.”

  The shrine was at the far end of the divide, nestled up against and into the wood barrier. Its construction was noticeably more detailed and ornate than the surrounding homes, and little colored stones hung from string tied to its rafters. Tesmarie pointed inside, but because Devin towered over the building, he could see nothing.

  “In there,” she said. “I was told it was sacred, a shard of an actual star that fell to the Cradle. It should be—”

  Tesmarie’s scream was Devin’s only warning. The roof blasted open, and from within the building shot a blur of shadow the size of a cat. Devin dropped to one knee and brought up his sword. The shadow struck the steel, and despite its small size, Devin felt the impact of a tremendous weight jar his elbow backward and twist his shoulder. As quickly as it’d attacked it leapt away, slamming into the wooden barrier a dozen feet off the ground.

  “What is that thing?” Jacaranda asked.

  “No clue,” Devin said. He raised his pistol. “But it needs to die.”

  There was no substance to the creature’s body, not even a fluid one like smoke. It was an absence of light, a void where space should be. Its back legs and tail were feline, but its front paws were more akin to human hands. Its six fingers dug into the wood with ease despite having no claws. The creature bore no head, no neck, no visible eyes or ears. How it sensed them, Devin could only guess, but it clearly could tell their location. The moment he raised his pistol it dodged aside. He tracked it to another curve of the wall, not pulling the trigger until it momentarily halted.

  The flamestone’s eruption thundered in the clearing. The bullet hit the monster square in the chest… and then bounced off with a high-pitched plink. The monster tensed, its body turning directly toward Devin.

  “Well,” said Devin. “Shit.”

  He dove aside as the creature lunged through the air. Its hands and legs scraped grooves into the ground upon landing, halting its momentum so it might leap again. Jacaranda took advantage of its distracted focus and lashed into its hindquarters with her daggers. They left shallow cuts, and if they drew blood, Devin saw no sign of it. He brought his sword up, his legs tensed to defend. If it turned on Jacaranda he’d flank it. If it went for him, he’d hold it back and pray his sword was enough to deflect its bizarre body.

  The monster did neither. After a quick swipe to force Jacaranda back, it stood on its hind legs, vibrated like disturbed water, and then split itself in half. From the lower half a feline form sprouted to match its hind legs, coupled with a catlike face and paws. Its eyes were ghostly shadows. The other half shriveled slightly, its mass traveling downward to become a childlike abdomen and legs. From the top half sprouted a small head with the features of a newborn babe. It blinked its ghost-light eyes and smiled at Devin.

  “Three bodies, one soul.” It spoke with a deep resonance, the words coming from both cat and child. “Disappointing.”

  The cat dashed toward Jacaranda, the child toward Devin. He swung his sword, embedding the blade an inch into its side. The blow only nudged it slightly off course, and nothing halted its momentum. The blade sliced along its side as it continued onward, leaving a small trail of shadow blood. Its fist slammed Devin’s knee, and he screamed, fearing the kneecap shattered. How could it possess such power?

  Devin rotated, his other knee connecting with the monster’s face. It felt like kneeing a stone wall. The thing slid back a step, the space enough for Devin to bring his sword down across its neck. He pushed every scrap of his strength into it, for he knew the longer the fight went on, the more likely he would suffer another blow to something far more vital than his knees. The blade cleaved down into its body, halting just above its waist. The monster squirmed and struggled, somehow still alive.

  Horror fought against Devin’s concentration. He wanted it away from him. He wanted it dead. Twisting the blade, he flung the thing across the clearing. The monster child rolled across the ground, its body plowing through several of the faery homes. When it came to a stop it pushed itself up to its knees. Its separated halves lashed toward one another with long, black syrupy strands. Two faery corpses lay near it, and it grabbed one in its little six-fingered hand and raised it to its mouth. Rows upon rows of shimmering cobra teeth grew from its gums. A single bite ripped the faery in half, and it chewed with obvious satisfaction.

  “So you can heal,” Devin said as he limped across the distance. “Good to know.”

  It swallowed down the other half and then snarled at Devin like a wild animal. In return he shoved his sword straight into its open mouth and down its throat. It bit the blade, its cobra teeth shattering. Devin shoved it down harder, telling himself to ignore its form. It wasn’t a child. It wasn’t a helpless babe. Just a monster needing to be killed. He pushed until the tip of his sword pierced out from the small of its back. When he ripped his sword free multiple pieces fell to the ground. Long, shudder-inducing strands still connected them like veins or ligaments.

  Devin gave them no chance. He hacked at the strands, at the chunks of the void, hacked and cut and stomped on every little piece until it seemed a puddle of darkness had splashed across the grass. Soft wisps of white smoke rose from its surface, and to his relief he saw the darkness evaporating away like water in high summer heat.

  A cry behind him spun him about. The other half! He readied his sword to aid Tesmarie and Jacaranda, but he need not have worried. Tesmarie swirled around the creature as a black-and-blue blur, her moonlight sword shredding line after line into its skin. Jacaranda merely played the distraction, stabbing at its sides whenever Tesmarie fled away. The thing’s strength was clearly waning, while Tesmarie’s sword seemingly pulsed longer and brighter with her growing fury.

  “You killed them!” she shrieked as her moonlight blade ripped a massive gash across its feline nose. “You-killed-them-you-killed-them-youkilledthemyouawfulhorriblemonster!”

  She moved so fast Devin could not track the faery’s movements. It just seemed like an aura of blue-white light surrounded the horrid creature, and then it collapsed in a shower of void shadow. Tesmarie hovered above it, panting with exhaustion. Diamond tears fell like stardust from her eyes. Her hands went limp. The blade vanished. Her wings barely kept her afloat.

  “Is it dead?” she asked, her voice strangely slow and detached.

  Devin sprinted so he might catch her as she fell. He cradled her little form in his palms. She looked so broken, both physically and mentally, that it pained Devin’s chest.

  “Why does she lie there?” Jacaranda asked. “I see no injury.”

  “Not all injuries are inflicted upon the flesh,” Devin said. He raised Tesmarie higher and shifted his fingers so she leaned upward against them. Her eyes fluttered open. A soft smile spread across her onyx face.

  “Oh, did I fall?” she asked as she wiped the tears from her face. Devin realized they were actually dry like dust upon his skin, perhaps truly made of diamond as they seemed. “Silly me.”

  She rose to her feet but instead of flying away she hovered the short distance to Devin’s shoulder and sat upon it.

  “You don’t mind, do you?” she asked.

  “Of course not.”

  Devin turned to Jacaranda. The soulless woman had just finished cleaning her daggers and slid them back into their sheaths.

  “Are you injured?” he asked her.

  “My fingers are bruised, my hands contain multiple cuts, the nail is half missing from where you removed it…”

  Devin winced at the recounting of what he’d forced her to endure while digging the dead child’s grave.

  “Wounds needing to be tended to immediately,” he interrupted.

  Jacaranda shook her head.

  “I endured no significant injuries during the fight.”

  With the apparent threat taken
care of, that left the shrine where the monster had emerged from within. Devin walked over to inspect it. With the shrine’s destruction upon the monster’s arrival, Devin had no trouble kneeling down and examining where the starlight tear had been housed. He brushed aside a few broken pieces of torn wall and then recoiled.

  A wriggling line split the air in the heart of the shrine. It was as long as his forefinger, as thin as an eyelash, and seemingly composed of pure shadow. The way it moved, it was as if it bore no substance. It was a rip in the world itself, a scratch on a painting or a crack in a sculpture.

  “Have you seen anything like this before?” he asked Tesmarie. The faery shook her head.

  “What do you think it is?” she asked.

  “The stars are our protection from the void’s eternal desire to swallow the light of our souls,” Devin said. “I may be wildly off the mark, but that seems like a tiny little sliver into the void itself. I’d wager the monster we killed came from within.”

  “What made it appear, then?”

  “Maybe removing the tear from the shrine?” He started to shrug, then halted, worried he might unbalance the faery on his shoulder. “I don’t know, and I sure as shit don’t like that Janus is now in possession of it. If it has any connection to the void, then its power shouldn’t be in the hands of a lunatic with a passion for slaughtering humans.”

  It seemed there was little else to learn. He wished he could banish that strange line, for what if more monsters escaped through? A horrible thought, but at least out here in the woods it was far from civilization.

  “Tesmarie, I would not leave the bodies of your kin in such an ignoble state,” he told the faery. “Have your kind a funeral ritual we might perform?”

  “We bury them,” she said. “Granting our life back to the earth and stone from which we came.”

  “Then burial it is.”

  He had no shovel, not even a spade. Thankfully the ground was soft beneath the grass that divided the village, and it tore easily when he stabbed it with one of his spare daggers. Tesmarie fluttered away to give him space while Jacaranda watched.