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Dark streets lead the way to even darker alleyways. Mason works through a shady part of town, filled with the common human criminals and the occasional otherworldly creature of the night.
“Should we be out in the open like this?” I step closer to him, keeping up so I don’t fall behind. I’m unprotected and the only one that can fight off a horde of Nightcrawlers is him. Wandering around aimlessly makes me nervous. There’s evil hunting me tonight. I find this incredibly ironic considering most nights I’m the one doing the hunting.
“We don’t have much territory to cover.”
“You’re headed to your master’s lair?”
He comes to a complete stop and tosses an annoyed look in my direction. “He’s not my master.” Mason’s backstory is unknown to me, but it’s easy to read the subject is a sensitive one.
“Fine. So he’s not your master. Is that where we’re headed?”
“No,” he replies curtly and points to a door a few paces to my right. “My place.”
I ogle the door, irked by the fact I’m even in this neighborhood. “You live in the shittiest part of town? Figures.”
“Quit complaining and follow me.” He trudges by me and heads for the door. “Before I go pay Pholos a visit I need to figure out something first.” Opening the door, he steps aside and gestures to a barely visible staircase. “After you.”
“Thanks,” I mutter under my breath and head up the stairs. Once at the top, Mason unlocks the door and ushers me in. Soon I’m standing in one of the smallest living rooms I’ve ever seen in my life. Mason shuts the door and locks it. Turning on the lights, he then removes something from the black leather jacket he’s wearing. He places it above the peephole and murmurs a few words before turning back to me.
Pointing to a loveseat in front of me, he says, “Sit.”
“Is that an order or a request?”
His eyes shoot daggers at me. “You have a funny way of showing gratitude.”
I blink. “I...uh...am...” I’m behaving like an ungrateful brat. While I’m unsure of what his motives are, it’s true he did more than help me out back there. “Why did you save me?” I take a seat and watch for his reaction.
Sliding the bowstring off his shoulder, he lays the bow gently on the coffee table in front of me. A quiver of arrows identical to the one he used to kill the Nightcrawler joins the bow on the table before he straightens up to remove his jacket and drape it over a matching chair to my left.
“What do you mean?” He’s buying time, I notice. He doesn’t have an answer, at least not one he wants to share with me, and by stalling he thinks I’ll move to a different subject. If he was paying close attention to me as he studied my weaknesses, he should know by now I’m not one to overlook things.
Running my hands down my thighs, I say, “Whether or not your touch can kill me, you can still collect the bounty. My soul means freedom to you. A knife to the heart, a push over a two-story balcony, you name it. Why not get the job done and have that mark on your neck removed forever and live as mortal again?”
His eyes begin to glow with intensity as he focuses on me. “I want to know why the leaders of the Underworld want you dead. It’s that simple.”
“Is it?” I challenge. “Why is that even so important to you? It’s none of your concern. Being a soul broker you should want to collect on the bounty first since you have such a big reward to gain by it.” My voice raises an octave as I address him without even being aware of it. “Why get involved to the point of becoming a target yourself? Your answer makes no sense whatsoever!”
“Daya...”
“Why? Why the interest?” My temper gets the best of me and I explode. “Don’t tell me you care because I know supernaturals like you only care about the prizes they can reap out of others’ miseries. Explain it so it makes sense to me because I don’t understand where you stand or why.”
“I couldn’t!” he shouts back. “I couldn’t do it. Are you happy now? For the first time in hundreds of years, I couldn't carry out a hit. For three months, I watched your every move, studying your weaknesses. Making sure I knew every little thing about you, but aside from the fact that you’re human, I was bothered by the sense...I feel like I know you.”
Three months? He said he’d been watching me for a week. “I don’t ever recall meeting you.”
“I know that. I figured it out the first night I walked into the coffee house. You didn’t recognize me. And I don’t remember seeing you before I was assigned to collect your soul, but I had this sense of déjà vu the first moment I saw you. Like there was a sense of familiarity between us.”
Weird, he’s not even a distant memory. Then again, I don’t know what my real name is. Daya is the name given to me. How am I to know whether or not I met him before? “You didn’t kill me based on this?”
He marches by me to what passes as a bedroom in this tiny living space he calls home. It’s a studio apartment, so small it might all fit in my single bedroom back at my place.
“I couldn’t finish the job, okay?” I hear him opening drawers and then shutting them with a slam behind me. “I’ve never killed a human before. Not one who hadn’t sold her soul in exchange for millions of dollars, vanity, or any other myriad of reason humans give up the one pure thing they have for something they don’t need. Faultless, with no true crime to your name, I couldn’t understand why Pholos wanted your soul.” He strolls back to where I’m sitting and hands over what looks like a t-shirt. “I don’t have a choice when it comes to who I serve and the life I’m forced to lead, but I’m not going to destroy a person who has done nothing wrong. Who has no debt to be paid.”
I take the t-shirt and lay it out on my thighs. “Say I believe you, what now? Are you just going to take the brunt for opting against harvesting my soul?”
“It looks that way, doesn’t it?”
I shake my head. “We’re both going to die then. No one goes against the leaders of the Underworld and lives to tell how they did it.”
“Take that shirt and change out of the one you’re wearing. I don’t have women’s clothing lying around, but that should do for now while we figure out what to do.”
Standing, I look around the room for a private place to exchange one shirt for the other. “Do you have a bathroom in this place?”
He points to my right, across the living room to a single white door. “It’s small, but serves its purpose.”
“Thanks.” I get to my feet and saunter toward the bathroom, closing the door once I’m inside. Locating the light switch next to the door, I flip it on and inspect my surroundings. True to his word, the bathroom is tiny and feels cramped, but it’s clean and well organized. “For a guy his place sure is nice and tidy,” I murmur.
My reflection in the mirror catches my attention and I stop to gape at the pale figure staring back. My shoulder length, wavy brown hair could use a good brushing, my green eyes look tired, and I could really go for a nice, long, good night’s sleep. Unfortunately, it doesn’t look like I’ll be getting rest any time soon.
Pulling my soiled shirt over my head, I dump it inside the trash bin. Stained with blood and with two rips, one in the back and the other in the front, it’s now useless. Briefly, I inspect the area where the wounds were and am surprised to find that aside from a little soreness, there’s no marks, no bruises, nothing. The witch did a great job at reviving me even if I’ll never admit my appreciation out loud.
Donning on the shirt provided by Mason, I take a step back to inspect the results. It’s a little big on me but at least I’m not walking around looking like I’m a cast member of the Walking Dead. I need a little freshening up and splash my face with cold water, which I dry with my shirt since there’s no towel in the bathroom.
Half way decent, I exit the bathroom to find Mason sitting on the loveseat, engrossed on an open book on his lap. It’s similar to the one he had with him back at the coffee house, except this one’s cover is black though the dimensions appear to be about the same. I wonder about his belongings, questioning where he left them since I don’t see the messenger bag anywhere and I don’t remember whether or not he had it back in the alley, but I set aside these thoughts to focus on the present. There are more important things to discuss now.
I make my way to him and take a seat to his right.
“What are you doing?”
He doesn’t acknowledge me. “Looking for answers.”
“Is there something specific you’re prying for?”
“Yes.” He turns the page and continues reading.
“Um, okay.” Not much of a conversationalist when he’s not in the mood. Actually, he looks like he could get a good night's rest himself. It’s been an odd night for the both of us and some space might help loosen the tension between us. “Maybe I should head on home. I don’t think I’m any safer here than I was at Atys’ place. I can see I’m just in the way so I should...get going...” I pick myself off the couch, but as quick as a striking rattler, Mason’s hand snakes out and grips my wrist.
“You’re safe. The emblem I placed on the door is meant to keep evil out. Now sit.” He pulls me back down again. “Stay put a moment.”
I wiggle my hand free, eying him with curiosity. “You’re taking this guardian job way too seriously.”
His gaze finally leaves the book to bestow upon me a look of irritation. “I’m not complaining so neither should you.”
“I wasn’t complaining. And that’s beside the point. You look a little rattled yourself. I’m guessing you’re as frustrated as I am.”
“I don’t want to die any more than you do.”
Right. I don’t want to die. Not this soon. I feel as if there’s still so much for me to do. “So, are you going to fill me in?” I gesture to the book on his lap.
He sits back, releasing some air. “Like you probably have, I’ve researched demons. I’m familiar with most of them—their powers and weaknesses. I’m trying to determine under what circumstances a demon, even one in the hierarchy, would want a human soul with no attachments.”
“And?”
“Some demons, like those looking for a spot in the ranks, will occasionally covet a human soul, usually one with high importance, but I haven’t heard of any case of them having the power to command Nightcrawlers to go on the hunt and bring this particular person of interest back.” He pauses for a moment, a thoughtful expression taking over his features. “Then there is the incubus. They go after human women all the time, but that isn’t your case.”
“How do you know?”
“Incubus go after the ones they want themselves. That and they use seduction to get ahead.”
“Definitely not my situation. I’m pretty sure those demons were trying to kill me not seduce me.”
“Right. So I was reading through this because I recalled having read a passage a while back that might help steer us in the right direction.”
“Like?”
“It says here the only reason a leader, or the leaders of the Underworld will target a human with indiscriminating fervor is when that person, be it male or female, represents a direct or indirect threat to their existence.”
I snort. “Please, that can’t be the reason. How could I possibly be a threat to the leaders of the Underworld? They have powers I will, never in a million years, posses.” Unless my monster hunting has something to do with their decision. But I doubt that. Mason has more abilities than I do, so that should have made him a target instead of me if that was the case. Besides, I’m not the only monster hunter out there.
“Maybe,” he shuts the book and slides it off his lap to the cushioned seat, “but it’s a lead. We should find out if it has any merit or not before we dismiss it.”
I shrug. “Fine, but how are we going to find that out?”
“I need to go to Pholos. He sent me to harvest your soul. If he wants you dead too, there must be a reason.”
“Okay then. Let’s get moving.” I jump to my feet.
“No.” Mason stands in front of me. “You’re not going.”
“The hell I’m not.”
“What part of Pholos wants you dead, did you not understand?”
“Look, I’m not staying behind to have my fate decided for me. If this Pholos guy wants you to bring back my soul, then I want to know why.”
Mason marches over to the chair and retrieves his jacket, shoving it on. “It’s a bad idea.”
“No. Deciding to go to work tonight instead of nursing my hangover was a bad idea.” Getting drunk after last night’s hunt seemed like a good idea at the time. Now I’m not so sure anymore. “This is my life we’re talking about. Give me something to protect myself with.”
He gives me one of those are-you-kidding me looks. “You can’t kill Pholos. He’s a powerful upper level demon.”
“I don’t give a damn. If he wants my soul, he’s going to have to fight to get it.” I storm right up to him. “You were pretty determined to kill me to not too long ago, and I fought back because that’s who I am. I’m not going down without a fight.”
“For the record, I wasn’t trying to kill you. I was trying to get you out of the area before the others got to you.”
I’m taken aback. His admission has left me dazed and confused. “You mean, you had no intention of finishing the job?”
“I thought about it. I did, but when it came down to it I couldn’t. I lacked the courage to do it.” He looks away, embarrassed. “I can’t hurt the innocent. I never have been able to. I collect the souls of those who have willingly bartered them away. Killing an innocent for his or hers soul involves a whole new low even for me.”
I don’t see what he has to gain by keeping me alive. He’s a slave of some demon; by bringing back my soul he had the opportunity to gain freedom. He let that chance go or he may have. I’m not sure what his motives are so this could all be a ruse. Or he’s as curious of why I’m on every demon’s top hit list as I am.
“I need a weapon. One that will protect me not only from this Pholos guy but you, too.”
He doesn’t seem anywhere near as annoyed as I thought he would be. “Fine.” Marching back to the full sized bed behind the loveseat, he drops to one knee and opens a drawer beneath the frame. He pulls out a katana, and stands, pushing the drawer shut with his foot. Turning to face me, he tosses the weapon in my direction. I catch it without a problem, taking a moment to inspect it.
“I know you are fairly good at using one of these. I’ve seen you in action.”
The katana has the same symbolic design across its entire length as the bow and arrows Mason carries with him. It’s highly protected and will kill anything it touches, including Mason if I take a shot at him.
“Who issued these weapons for you? I know by these symbols that these are exclusive, made to kill even the toughest of demons. Does your master know you have these?”
“If he did, would I still be alive?” He storms to the apartment’s front door. “Let’s just say no one knows I have these except the person who gave them to me.” Removing the emblem, he pauses with his hand on the doorknob. “Coming?”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”