Tayo Tersoo and the Hunter of Souls, Fringes of Infinity Book Five
Table of Contents
Prologue – New Year’s Eve 1
Chapter 1 – Are You Looking At Me? 11
Chapter 2 – This Can’t Be 18
Chapter 3 – A Tangled Mess 27
Chapter 4 – A Research Project 34
Chapter 5 – Got Me Going 41
Chapter 6 – To Never Dream Again 50
Chapter 7 – A Bloody Corpse Cooling 58
Chapter 8 – It’s Not A Ghost 68
Chapter 9 – If She Still Lives 79
Chapter 10 – A Plan To Murder 88
Chapter 11 – Stab It Again 97
Chapter 12 – A What? A Bird? 105
Chapter 13 – A Thing For Boots 125
Chapter 14 – Three Of Me Now 137
Chapter 15 – Murderer On My Phone 145
Chapter 16 – I Tire Easily 150
Chapter 17 – Plucking Something Out 166
Chapter 18 – That’s His Foot? 177
Chapter 19 – You’re Already Dead 194
Chapter 20 – Shh . . . And Don’t Stop 203
Chapter 21 – When My Head Explodes 212
Chapter 22 – Not Much Of A Boss 220
Chapter 23 – An Unusual Attack 231
Chapter 24 – Bottom Of A Lost Well 247
Chapter 25 – Gonna Leave A Stain 257
Chapter 26 – Next Time 268
Chapter 27 – Offering Me Everything 283
Chapter 28 – All Of Eternity 292
Chapter 29 – Thanks, Mouse 303
Chapter 30 – These Damned Souls 314
Chapter 31 – I’ll Arrive Sunday 328
Chapter 32 – Finished On Earth 335
Chapter 33 – Two Damn Sexy Treats 343
Chapter 34 – This Time 352
Chapter 35 – That Damn Lin Finity 361
Prologue – New Year’s Eve
“Tayo, listen to me! You are too stubborn for your own good. You never should have left Nigeria.”
“I never should have told you of that promise I made, Jenny. It’s been six weeks and still, nothing has—”
“Only six weeks! How can you know that you will remain safe? You cannot!”
“No, that’s certainly a true statement—I cannot know for sure. However, much time has passed since I last saw Lin, and that tends to assure me that—”
“Lin Finity has been nothing but trouble for you! And that cult you ran off to join. Nothing but trouble, Tayo!”
“Jenny, The Shield is not a cult. And besides, that organization has dissolved. Their purpose was good, even though they—”
“Good? You said they were good? Oh, Tayo . . . chasing after some mysterious Words of God. You’re a wiser man than that.”
Tayo Tersoo sat in the tiny, cramped living room of his modest apartment in Baltimore. The heater rattled but kept his home warm, perhaps too warm, so he wore only khakis and a white tank top. He’d just switched on the TV in anticipation of the New Year’s Eve broadcast that would soon begin.
“I’m still wise, Jenny, and everything I do is for the good of mankind. How could I not try to learn the Words of God? Would knowing those Words not benefit all of humanity?”
“Well, how has that worked out for you, Tayo?’
He sighed and rubbed his face with one hand before answering.
“It hasn’t worked out. That pursuit led to events in which I’d preferred to have had no involvement. Still, all of that allowed me to witness the wonder, the mystery of Lin Finity and how she could—”
“Again with Lin Finity! Tayo, you are far across the ocean and telling me of your fascination with another woman. I must question whether I believe you’d rather be there with her than here in Lagos with me.”
“Jenny, I’m not with her. She has vanished. I must question whether she still lives on this Earth or not.”
“Then, why do you not return?”
Jenny Oladayo had turned down the blankets on her bed and sat on the edge, staring out at the midnight lights of the city from her fifth-floor apartment, a steady number of them yielding to the night as she watched. She twirled one finger into her thick, wild black hair and kicked out one slender leg after the other. The conversation kept her from focusing entirely on the new high-heeled shoes she’d tried on before ending her day.
“I do not wish to alarm you in any way, but I—”
“You do not wish? Well, Tayo, you have certainly alarmed me many times already. You told me of shooting a rocket to destroy a cabin. With people inside!”
“It was either that or—”
“And somehow, some evil power knocked you from the tree, breaking many of your bones?”
“Lin’s power is not evil. I’m unable to explain it, but she is in no way—”
“So you say. Oh, I interrupted you. I apologize. What were you saying? In what way will you alarm me next?”
“I began to say there is still a negligible possibility of my having to confront what I mentioned to you six weeks ago. I promised Lin that I’d apply myself to that task, and if it were to appear—which seems less likely with every passing day—then I don’t wish for it to be near you.”
“Oh, Tayo, you are a good man. I won’t claim to understand you all of the time, but your heart is—”
A loud squeak rang out from somewhere in Tayo’s apartment, loud enough to be heard over the TV and noisy heater. Tayo froze and stared at the wall near his front door.
“Tayo, what was that?”
“Oh, um, Jenny, I believe that heater is beginning a new phase of malfunctioning. I’ll have to call the landlord as soon as—”
Two more loud squeaks emanated from the walls.
“Tayo, that’s your heater? I’ve heard many of its noises since you’ve been in America, but never have I—”
A loud scratching drowned out all other sounds in his apartment and lingered for several long seconds.
“That was not a heater, Tayo. Tell me, what’s going on?”
“Perhaps it has taken its troublesome nature to a new, higher level, Jenny?”
“You should not joke. Something is—”
A combination of loud squeaking and scratching began inside the wall near his door, and it circled around the room, gaining volume with each circuit. Tayo hit the mute button of his phone and waited.
The sounds paused and even though he felt the hairs on the back of his neck standing at attention, he resumed his call.
“Jenny, perhaps I should call you back. It’s late there anyway, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it’s late, but, Tayo, what’s going on? Tell me you’re safe, okay?”
“I’ll be fine. You need not worry.”
She began saying, “I’ll decide whether to worry or not, and you―” just as the walls erupted with more squeaks and scratches.
“Jenny, I must go. Happy New Year. I’ll call you soon.”
He tapped off his phone and stared at each of his walls in turn.
As each squeak or scratch erupted, he snapped his head to see, swaying his short black dreadlocks from side to side, his big black eyes staring through his heavy black eyeglasses. But the walls told him nothing.
He wiped a hand across his forehead and lowered it, seeing it covered in sweat. A quick glance at the large thermometer on the wall told him that the temperature had not changed. After half a minute of sounds from alternating walls, the squeaks and scratches cried out from every wall surrounding him, so he quit trying to learn what caused them. Instead, he sat quietly on his beige couch, closed his eyes, and took deep, measured breaths.
Discipline. I must remain diligent. I don’t know what this is, but I do know that I must remain balanced. Perhaps it’s as I suggested to Jenny: only mechanical systems malfunctioning in new and unexpected ways.
He flinched when every noise halted, even the rattling of the heater. The TV went silent, though it still showed the start of the holiday celebrations, then it, too, went blank.
Tayo stood up from the couch, controlling his breaths, fighting the voice inside that screamed for him to run out of there. Even standing on his cold porch, wearing only a thin tank top, pants, and shoes, would be preferable, he knew.
But he stood in silence, looking at each of the quiet walls as he slowly turned his head toward each.
I’ve made a promise. If I’m being visited by whatever Lin Finity foretold, I won’t run. What she described has convinced me that it’s a noble cause.
A small squeak ripped loose from the lowest part of the wall behind him, from somewhere behind his couch.
Perhaps it’s nothing. Still, I’ll demonstrate to whatever elements of creation observe me that I don’t submit to fear.
A scratch called out from the wall directly in front of him. He gazed at it without blinking.
It’s a hunter, Lin had said. Something that’s neither alive nor dead, yet still, it hunts. It hunts our souls.
A squeak from his left at the same time as a scratch from his right.
I won’t run. I can’t anyway. Where would I go? If it’s indeed here, it has come for me. Lin has succeeded in bringing it to our world. Will I succeed at my task?
The squeaking and scratching began high along every wall around him. He took a deep breath, let it out, and closed his eyes.
Dedication. Diligence. Striving for the benefit of humanity.
The volume of whatever hid in his walls increased.
I will not falter. Though my eyes are closed, I’m not hiding, and I won’t back down. Not from a promise to Lin. Never for Lin, with her glowing green eyes.
The sounds began low in the walls, too, adding to those still calling out from near the ceiling. The four walls were alive with whatever had come for him.
Though I hold my eyes closed, it’s not from weakness. Or fear. It’s only because what I face cannot be seen.
He focused on his breathing as the strange sounds grew louder.
I must remember to be steadfast. I must remain devoted to my mission. I won’t feel fear or grow weak.
The sounds started a steady increase, growing loud enough to rattle small photos and African artworks hanging on the walls. It approached a deafening level, and the silent scream inside Tayo, alone in a hot apartment in Baltimore, keeping a promise to Lin Finity, who had long ago disappeared and perhaps had died, rose just as high.
I am strong! I have a good heart! I will not be—”
The squeaks and scratches became so loud that Tayo could no longer think of anything except covering his ears but only until his arms moved on their own.
Ah! No, it cannot be!
He opened his eyes as his stiff body fell forward and when he found he could not enlist his arms to break his fall, he closed his eyes, prayed that he might survive the impact, and held in his mind the image he’d seen from high in the tree near her cabin: Lin Finity, standing far away on a porch, her eyes burning like two green suns.
Tayo awoke to a silent but still warm room. He felt the wood floor cool against his cheek as he lay along the couch with his arms at his sides.
He remembered falling and when he initiated a check for damage, before ever moving, he found that his head felt fine as if he’d never hit it against the floor.
I remember now that I fell at a rate not dictated by gravity. Was I lowered somehow? How could that be?
He felt fine everywhere else, too, except for his back . . . that was on fire.
Oh, what can that possibly be? I’m relieved that the odd sounds have departed, but what has happened to my back?
He struggled to bring his hands up near his shoulders but when he tried to push himself up off of the floor, he found that he didn’t have enough strength.
And his back was in flames.
I don’t understand this, but I don’t need to. My strength will carry me through. I’ll remain diligent, and if this is somehow what Lin—Ah!
Sharp pains, too many to count and all over his back, pinned him to the floor. There was more than one fire on his back, and they were moving.
My back! What has happened to my back?
He felt pieces of burning material sliding and scraping, dragging across the smooth skin of his back. He opened his mouth for a scream, but he would not permit it. His breaths came quick and shallow.
Is it on fire? Will I burst into flames? Am I already in flames?
He tried again to move and found that he couldn’t pick himself up. He knew that even if he could run, there was nowhere left to go. He did manage to retrieve his phone from his pants pocket, and he called Lin’s number.
With his tormented back nearly bringing him to tears, he listened to the greeting from Lin, as pleasant sounding as it had been the several times he’d tried, unsuccessfully, to speak with her the last six weeks.
A sigh that carried a small sob leaked out of him as he returned the phone to his pocket. He listened for sounds from the walls, heard nothing, and focused again on his back. Whatever had found his back felt like shards of burning glass, and they weren’t happy with their present locations. They seemed to be searching, gouging and burning, intent only on making themselves comfortable with no regard to the man suffering quietly, facedown on his apartment floor.
Discipline. My heart is good. I can survive this. I will survive this.
He closed his eyes and fought to concentrate on his breaths, slowing them as well as he could, as his agony reached levels he’d believed could be possible only in Hell.
There was no longer any way to sense time passing. There was only eternal misery for the man with a good heart, focused and dedicated like no other, as the Hunter of Souls made him its home.
I made . . . a promise . . . to Lin. I will not . . . I will never . . .
The pain never left, but it had been shrouded by a thick layer of night that carried Tayo to a place where his consciousness would not have to face the weakness and fear taking root inside him.
Before opening his eyes, he heard first the rattling of his heater beneath the window. Nearby, the TV once again transmitted the celebrations from Times Square. He groaned at the sound of a male voice proclaiming that it would surely be a happy year.
I must try again to stand, now that the fiery wounding of my back has ceased.
He pushed against the floor and found that his strength had returned. A cloud of dread approached when he noted that the pain in his back had been replaced by an ominous numbness. He could feel nothing from his shoulders to his waist and from one side to the other.
Standing next to his couch, he took a deep breath and looked around the room at the walls which had contained the source of the unexplained noises.
It’s a relief that my back is no longer engulfed with flames, but there should be at least some sensation, not an expanse with no indication that it’s still a part of me. Do I dare look at it?
He knew that he had to see, so he walked into his bedroom and stood before the large mirror above his dresser. Remembering that a small hand mirror was kept in one of the drawers, he retrieved it, turned his back to the dresser, and let out a deep breath.
Holding up his small mirror to see his back, he reached up with his other hand to grab the top of the shirt, and he began pulling it up.
The hand holding the mirror shook, but he kept removing the shirt, revealing what had been done to him. Finally, the shirt was bunched around his neck, and he stared at his back in the small mirror, reflected by the larger mirror above his dresser.
Oh no, that cannot be. What manner of madness is this?
After removing his shirt completely, Tayo struggled to calm his quickened breaths. He once again got out his phone but accepting that Lin might never be found again, he dialed someone else that he believed might be able to help.
“This is Lee.”
“Lee, this is Tayo Tersoo. Do you have a moment to converse?”
Through the open doorway to his bedroom, he studied his living room area, which presented no evidence that anything unusual had happened. The radiator under the window still rattled, and the TV, which he had muted and sat surrounded by piles of books and journals, still showed scenes of the approaching midnight celebration in Times Square.
“Sure. What’s going on?”
What’s going on? I wish only to scream to you! If I were to scream, though, how would you understand what has happened to me?
“Nothing good. I need you.”
“Look, I never should have done that with you.”
He thought back to their encounter at the restaurant in Allentown—the last time he had seen Lin. His leg was in a cast, still recovering from Lin toppling him from the tree from which he’d launched a missile. And somehow, Lee had healed him. All he remembered was some kind of pleasant satisfaction and after that, his broken bones were no longer broken.
“I only meant to heal your injuries. It was fun, but—”
“Yes, that was exceedingly enjoyable. But I’m not telephoning about that. It’s something else.”
“What?”
What? you ask. I do not know! How could anyone know what this is?
“I’ve called Lin many times, but she hasn’t responded. You’re my only hope.”
“Lin is gone, Tayo. She’s just . . . gone. What’s wrong?”
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, knowing that he wished more than anything to speak with Lin but that that might never again be possible.
“She said the entity I must try to kill would appear somewhere in the world. And besides devising a way to destroy it, I had to locate it first.”
“Yeah, that’s right. Lin said she had no idea what it would be. Or where.”
Where. Yes, Lee . . . where. Shall I tell you? How could I speak of it without also displaying the weakness and fear that will soon bury me?
“Tayo, did you find it?”
He glanced again in the small mirror that he held close to his face, giving him a view of his back in the larger mirror. Stifling an urge to scream, or to sob, or to run blindly in any direction, he looked upon his own back.
What had been smooth, perfect skin was now completely covered with raised welts forming unrecognizable symbols. Each one was small, and rows and columns of them bunched together and covered all of his back, from his shoulders to his waist and across the width.
He took another deep breath while listening to the heater rattling and feeling the once comforting heat in his small, lonely apartment in Baltimore on New Year’s Eve.
“It has found me.”
Chapter 1 – Are You Looking at Me?
Lee almost dropped her box of baklava, but she managed to set it on a small table on her backyard deck. Still looking up at the stars in the midnight sky above her in Jacksonville, she shook her head slowly at Tayo’s revelation.
“You’re serious? That thing Lin talked about, it’s in the world somewhere?”
Tayo fought to get his shirt back on while holding his phone against his ear. He stood in front of his dresser mirror, turning to try to study the affliction that had invaded his back.
“I did not say that it was somewhere. It’s here. It has found me.”
“It’s in your apartment?”
I cannot speak of it yet. I am teetering at the edge of an abyss and to speak of it, I must look into the deepest part of that pit. No, I don’t have the strength.
“Yes, Lee. It’s very near.”
“What is it?”
“I don’t know.”
“But you can see it, right?”
“Yes. It’s visible.”
“Alright, then what is—hang on, Tayo.”
The phone went silent and since Tayo had finished dressing, he again viewed his back with his small hand mirror. He reached it over his shoulder and tapped his back in several places.
“Sorry. I’m back. It was just Alessa. She was—”
“Your child?”
“Yeah, my daughter. I shouldn’t have let her stay up this late, but it is New Year’s Eve. Anyway, she wanted me to come watch the show. She’s just kind of odd sometimes.”
“I believe many children would want their parents to welcome the new year together.”
“Oh yeah, nothing odd about that. She’s just odd. So, what were you saying? That thing is there with you? What does it look like?”
“I cannot describe it, Lee.”
“Come on, Tayo. It must have some kind of appearance. What does it—”
“I could select descriptive words to relate what I see. The problem is that my acceptance of my situation hasn’t yet appeared. It might not ever.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Lin would know.”
“Yes, she might. But I fear she’s dead.”
“We don’t know that. She . . . changed. Something happened to her. But that doesn’t mean she won’t ever come back. Gabriel thinks she will.”
Tayo let out a shallow sigh.
“There’s some relief and hope in that thought. Gabriel appears to be wise.”
“Hang on again, alright? That kid of mine . . .”
She’s a problem? Would you like to trade for my new companion?
Tayo laughed out loud just once.
Ah!
An axe, feeling heavy and sharp, struck high behind his left shoulder. He stifled a scream long enough to mute his phone, then one loud yell filled his bedroom and rolled into every other room.
He fell to his hands and knees, still holding the phone, and twisted his back from side to side, snapping his head to see. With breaths racing in and out, he fell flat out, facedown, moving only his head while he looked at the phone in his left hand and fought to not cry out again.
The axe withdrew, leaving his back numb like before. While panting and remembering that he’d have to speak again into the device in his hand, he watched it slip out of that hand and flop over onto the thick area rug between his bed and dresser. He stared with big eyes at his hand as he rotated it back and forth.
I cannot move my fingers now?
He stood, held up his right hand, and wiggled those fingers all around, then he reached up to touch his left hand. He poked a finger into it at several different locations, and he felt nothing.
Perhaps it’s some sort of repetitive stress, but it has arisen as a delayed reaction of some type. Could that be? No, that’s an unreasonable conclusion based on fear and the lunacy of my plight. Something from my back stabbed me, then it took up residence in my hand. That’s a more plausible explanation.
With his right hand, he retrieved his phone, listened, and heard nothing. He walked the short distance to his small but very clean kitchen and sat at the table with his left arm laid out on the tablecloth.
“Tayo? Are you still there?”
“I’m here, Lee. Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, it’s fine. I just put Alessa to bed. So, what are you—”
“Lee, my left hand is now completely numb and doesn’t respond to commands.”
“Why is that?”
“I don’t know. It’s only the left hand, not the right.”
“Sounds like a circulation problem. Maybe you should—”
“Ah!”
Lee’s questions arrived to Tayo’s right ear in a continuous stream, but his eyes could only watch as the very end of his little finger, the one on his uncooperative hand, began to crack open. That crack fed itself into four more, equally spaced all around, and those red crevices started tracing jagged paths toward the base of his finger.
“Lee, I—”
Her voice became more urgent, but Tayo had more reasons to ignore her. Along each split, the blood began to flow, though he felt no pain at all. He’d forgotten to breathe as he watched the four sections peeling away like unseen pliers held the ends and dragged them down, leaving only the raw flesh below.
One of the strips of skin dangled a slimy nail on its end.
When they’d been ripped halfway down his finger, Tayo said, “Lee, my finger . . . something is taking my finger!”
“What do you mean, ‘taking?’”
“What I mean is, taking it ‘apart!’”
“Tayo, I really don’t understand. How could—”
“Lee, this is beyond understanding. I fear watching it happen, though I feel nothing. Still, I fear not observing it even more.”
“It’s breaking off in pieces?”
“No, Lee, it’s being peeled like a ripe banana. A gruesome, gory, bloody—”
“Alright, hang on a second. How far is it peeled back?”
“It’s now about one half of the entire finger. Still, it progresses.”
“I hate to even say this, Tayo, but do you think it will stop with the finger?”
“I hate that you said that too! No, I have no reason to believe that it will stop there. The hand will be next. Then, I can only pray that my arm will go numb before that is stripped of skin as well. Where will it end? Am I being skinned alive?”
“Tayo, you have to try to stop it. You know what I mean. Do it while there’s still time.”
“You’re suggesting that I cut off that finger? What’s left of that finger?”
“Yes, and I’ll get there as soon as I can. You know that I can heal that, right?”
“You can restore parts that have been removed? Are you sure?”
“Well, pretty sure.”
“What?” he said in a much higher pitch.
Tayo couldn’t blink, and his breaths rushed in and out as he watched his finger undressing itself, attached to a hand that felt nothing, above an expanding pool of blood on his kitchen table.
“What other options do you have?”
“None. I’ll mute the phone. Please. Please, don’t hang up.”
“I won’t.”
I do not wish for you to hear me scream. And though I don’t expect pain from this operation, I still have every reason to cry. No one should ever hear that.
Grateful that his kitchen was small, Tayo managed to keep his dripping hand above its puddle as he reached for a drawer and brought out a steak knife. He sat and held it in his shaking right hand.
He located the serrated edge to the very base of the finger, then he rattled the knife onto the table, outside of the growing red puddle, and unmuted the phone.
“Lee, I must go. You will come?”
“Did you do it?”
“No. No, I have not. That’s not an action on which a quick decision can be—”
“Tayo, you don’t have time! Do it before it’s too late!”
She’s right. Indecision at this moment is due only to weakness. Why would I entertain the idea that I have a choice in this matter?
“You’re right, of course. I eagerly await your arrival, and I will go now!”
He tapped with his thumb to end the call and set the phone down. The knife’s edge, already wetted with his blood, again rested against the soft flesh of his finger, and he paused to watch in fascination and fear at the advancing flaps of flesh curling closer to where he knew he must cut.
Lin Finity . . . I gave you my word.
Watching in disgust and regret over the self-destruction, he held a vision of Lin’s eyes lit up like blazing green stars as he began sawing, watching his nearly skinless finger roll with the cuts like a stubborn hot dog on a plate.
Oh, this cannot be!
Tayo had cut completely through the finger, finding that he needed a surprising amount of force to sever the bone, and he clattered the knife with a splash, releasing the instrument as quickly as he could.
And he found that the feeling had just then returned to his hand.
And the freed finger began wiggling its way through the puddle, onto the still-dry tabletop surface, and tracing a meandering, crimson path toward the edge.
I wish to scream, but I must capture my own finger too? What to do first? Can I do both? I never imagined I’d ever be asking myself such questions!
With a deep throbbing where he’d cut and a steady flow of blood from the open wound, which he strove to maintain above the puddle, he reached for the escaping finger with his good hand.
Even now, I seek to minimize the mess? Perhaps I was already insane when I began this horrible adventure? Perhaps I’m achieving a new level of insanity now?
Still dripping from a short distance above the table, he felt a knot develop in his stomach at the sensation of his own finger feeling like a piece of wet, shredded meat.
Ice? If Lee is to return it to my hand, should I immerse it in ice? At least, things are resolved and once I dress the wound, I can—
“Ah! No, that cannot happen!”
The bone of the sawed-off finger in his hand began to twist around, drilling into his palm. He gasped and let it flop into the puddle, where it continued to snake around, the tip rising up out of the fluid and circling around until it pointed at him. Then, it stopped.
No! Are you looking at me? What next? Please don’t prove to me that you can fly as well!
Still bleeding and still stifling a scream, Tayo scanned along his countertop, and his eyes rested on the new bank checks that had arrived in the mail the day before. Ignoring the dripping, he stepped toward it, leaving a dashed red line across the linoleum, and grabbed the box. He lifted off the top, spilled the contents, and hurried back to the table.
Oh, you are still studying me? Does that bring you satisfaction?
He set the box down, winced as he snatched up the staring finger, and closed it up with the finger inside and the box top covering the bottom.
Well, now I can—oh, you’re trying to escape?
He tapped the box a few times, and the scratching sounds ceased.
Yes, you need to cooperate. Do not forget that I own you.
He looked at the ceiling and instead of letting out his scream, he only laughed and shook his head.
“Finally, I can find some sort of first aid for this and then, before Lee arrives,” he said aloud, “I must clean up some of—”
The agitated scratching inside the box started again, and the container was lurching around, moving closer to the blood. Tayo let out a deep breath, made a bigger mess by going to the cabinet for a heavy can of soup, and placed it on the box.
I truly hope that’s the end of that. What madness am I living now, where I use food to aid in the confinement of my finger?
He let out a deep sigh and closed his eyes.
They snapped back open at the sound of squeaking in every wall of his kitchen. He also heard his finger’s attempts at escape. His entire left hand throbbed.
Oh, Lin, I don’t know about this . . .
He crossed his arms on the table, still careful to keep the damaged one near the slick red pool, and laid himself down with his cheek resting on the back of his right hand.
I’ll rest only a minute.
The squeaking in the walls continued.
His finger fought against its thin cardboard prison.
A sloppy circle of raw meat kept adding to the puddle.
When I’m cleaned up, I’ll call Anna. She has helped before, and maybe she . . . perhaps she can be convinced to . . . to . . .
With one low sob, Tayo couldn’t fight the darkness that engulfed him.
Chapter 2 – This Can’t Be
“You’re really going to keep dressing like that? Copying that Lin Finity style?”
“Yes, Daria. As frightening as she was, her fashion knowledge cannot be debated.”
“Well, the short skirt and heels do look good—way better than how you dressed when working with The Shield.”
Anna Kelgina paused to brush back her shoulder-length brown hair on each side before continuing.
“I am even enjoying the lenses for my eyes too.”
“You look good. I like how it made Lin jealous every time she saw you.”
“I did sense some of that but mostly, I noticed anger. She is not a good person to make angry. You are wearing that camouflage dress today? With tall black boots?”
Daria looked down at her boots with a grin, causing her thick black hair to fall forward past her shoulders. She looked again at her mother while snapping it all back with both hands.
“Crazy, huh? For some reason, I felt like trying this on again today. What do you think?”
Anna shook her head and grinned.
“I have just now understood this: when either of us considers fashions, our questions to ourselves should be, ‘what would Lin do?’”
“That’s kind of brilliant, Mom. She’d say shorten the dress, I bet.”
“Yes, that is likely accurate. She might also suggest that high boots hide too much of one’s legs. She rarely hid hers.”
“I think you’re right. About all of that. Alright, I have a solid plan: lose the boots and shorten the dress.”
“Still, all of this only reminds me of all that happened more than six weeks ago. Down in that tunnel with the Words of God, then being convinced to assist Tayo in St. Simons Island. Daria, I am glad we are done with all of that.”
“Mom, we should just get the hell out of here already. Maybe not Russia, though. But why are we still hanging around Baltimore?”
“Daria, there are no longer any disastrous situations to attack us. And our lease has time on it still. You remember that Jack sent me a comforting text six weeks ago too.”
“Yeah, I remember. About Lin being gone. Still, what if she comes back?”
“She will not be back. I observed the tone of Jack’s voice—he was very despondent. I believe she is dead.”
“If anyone that evil can really die,” Daria said with a smirk.
“I do not believe she was evil. There were many times that she allowed us to live, did she not?”
“See? That whole idea is wrong. Who is she to ‘decide’ that we can live?”
“She was frighteningly powerful in unknown ways. That is how.”
“Not powerful enough, it seems. I’m glad she’s—”
Daria’s phone vibrated in her hand and when she tapped to see who had sent her a text message, her face went blank, and her wide-open eyes stared at it. She finally looked at her mother.
“Mom, this can’t be.”
“What cannot be, Daria?”
“Um, nothing. Just a text from someone I thought I’d never hear from again.”
“Someone like who?”
“Nobody. Look, I’m going out for a while.”
Anna reached down to pick up her little black dog, Ozzy, before continuing.
“It is after midnight, and you are now going out? Who is your mystery person?”
“Oh, that. Um, no, I just need to get out and get some air. You won’t be needing the car, will you?”
“I do not suppose so. I wish to sit with a glass of vodka and contemplate the beginning of a new year, one without the horrible, terrifying Lin—”
“Mom, you need to get over her. She’s gone. And besides, did she ever really hurt you? No. Enjoy your vodka and the peace and quiet. I’ll be back soon.”
Anna watched her daughter slip on a wool coat, lengthy enough to cover the tops of her boots, and she donned a furry black hat. After grabbing the car keys, she paused at the door, blew a kiss her way, and slammed the door behind her.
A fresh bottle needed to be opened, then poured in a large, clear tumbler, and Anna sat on the couch in her quiet apartment on the outskirts of Baltimore, a drowsy Ozzy on her lap, sipping and telling herself that all of that madness had gone, never to return.
Daria parked in the street and while walking along the cold sidewalk toward a tall brick apartment building, near the former headquarters of The Shield, she blew warm air into her hands and cussed under her breath.
She climbed the dozen or so steps, grateful for boots that had tread enough to keep her upright on the icy patches. A quick series of raps with her bare knuckles ended with her jamming that hand deep into a pocket. A glance down the street showed no one about, the only company being the trash that was light enough to travel along with the cool wind.
The door opened, and a familiar face appeared against a backdrop of complete darkness. He was as she knew him when working with The Shield: short, military-style brown hair, intense eyes, and lean, angular features. His tight t-shirt only confirmed that he’d been keeping himself in good shape.
She felt a continuous wave of hot air pouring out, which felt good and alarmed her at the same time.
“This can’t be. Benson, I shot you.”
“Thanks for that.”
“You mean, I really did, right? In that alley over by the headquarters?”
“Oh yeah, you sure did.”
He offered a grim smile, showing clean but not completely white teeth in the faint light of a lamppost.
“You’re not mad?”
“Nah, I don’t blame you. You thought I’d rat you out to your mom, right? Because you were screwing around, wanting to take a picture of that priest?”
“You could tell? Hell yeah, I did think that.”
“Smart move. Good aim too.”
She shook her head, staring at the man she thought she’d killed, and stamped her feet.
“You’re cold. Come on in.”
He stepped aside and swung the door farther in, and Daria took a step into a tropical room that caused her to instantly unbutton her coat and flap it around, seeking a cooler current if she could find it.
“What the hell? Hot enough, Benson?”
“Hell? Not quite. It’s only about ninety. Damn furnace.”
She stared at him as he shut the door carefully and bolted it.
“How about a light? Unless you’re afraid I might shoot you again.”
“That’s funny, Daria. Nope, not worried at all.”
He flipped on a dim light, and she looked around a room that was mostly empty except for a few pieces of clean furniture. Nothing adorned the walls, and only the one lamp resided on a small table.
“Nice place.”
He looked around and said, “You bring some life to it. Please, have a seat.”
Before accepting a place on the couch, she wiggled out of her coat and laid it to one side. Right away, she felt the warmth of the couch soaking its way through her dress as if she were sitting on a park bench that had baked in the sun.
“Why so damn hot, Benson? You sick or something?”
“That’s not the most important question on your mind.”
She stared for a moment, then said, “Um, no, you’re right.”
“So, ask.”
“I’m a good shot. I might not have been the most dedicated agent The Shield ever hired, but I can handle a pistol. I was sure I shot you right in your heart.”
“So, you thought I was dead, and you left me in that alley?”
“Not like I had anywhere to bury you,” she said with a grin.
“I suppose not. You could have kicked some trash over me, though. That would have been decent of you.”
“Tell you what,” she said with a smirk. “Next time I think I killed someone in an alley, I’ll lay a newspaper over his head. How’s that?”
“You really are a smartass,” he said with the same unenthusiastic smile before he looked down at her thighs. “No complaints about those legs, though.”
She took a deep breath before answering with a faint grin.
“They do look good in camo, don’t they?”
He looked back up into her eyes and said, “Even better without. Probably that ass of yours too.”
She shook her head a couple of times and looked at the ceiling with a smile before looking him in the eye.
“I always did kind of turn you on, didn’t I?”
He leaned a bit closer to her from his seat on the other end of the couch and said, “It’s New Year’s Eve. Showing you is way better than telling you.”
“Show and tell, huh?”
She leaned toward him, and their lips met but only briefly.
“God, you’re freezing! Are you sick? That’s why it’s so hot in here?”
“I feel better than I ever have. Don’t let the cold scare you.”
She gave him another kiss, longer than the first, then stood.
When she reached down for a boot, he said, “Uh-uh. The boots are good.”
“Let me guess: no camo, though?”
“Yep.”
Anna finished her glass and gave herself a generous refill. She nudged the dog off to one side, stood, and walked to the bathroom, set her drink on the vanity, and chuckled while turning the knobs to fill the tub.
She wondered why she began to think of Lancaster Wolfe, the destroyed, demonic former leader of The Shield, while she undressed herself. But she didn’t block the memories. She did lock the door, though, to keep Ozzy out.
Instead, she focused on one in particular, her favorite over the last few days: alone with him in his car, outside the entrance to The Shield’s underground base. How he’d treated her like a pet. Seduced her. Then squeezed her throat in an iron grip, preventing any breath. She knew that she’d only stared at him, wondering if he’d kill her but hoping he’d have better plans.
He had, and as she dropped her underwear down around her ankles, kicked it off to the side, then set her drink on the edge of the tub, she blocked the rest of the recollection until she’d sunk down below the surface, up to her neck, feeling the heat caressing her everywhere.
Then, she let the memory roll on, allowing every intense detail to unfold. He’d spoken with such control as if there were no possibility of her denying his demands. He’d made so damn clear what he wanted her to do.
She’d felt his strong hand nodding her head in agreement. She’d been a toy in his hands, nothing more. A willing toy. A toy that loved not being able to say no.
Both hands slipped below the surface, eager to help her relive how freeing it had been to be helpless in his hands.
Daria soon stood near Benson, seated on the couch, wearing only her boots and underwear. She’d already tossed her bra across the room, smiling at seeing his eyes staring before looking up into hers.
“Nice contrast: camo covering some sweet lace. Don’t stop.”
“Enjoying the show, Benson?”
“Beats getting shot.”
She sighed and grabbed the elastic strap hugging her hips, then she pulled it down along her thighs and shifted around until it got hung up on her boots. She leaned forward to free it, and he reached out to hold one of her breasts.
She paused to grin at him, and he found the other.
“Cold hands, Benson.”
“Yep.”
She shook her head and stretched the thin cloth over the tops of her boots, then pulled her legs free.
Looking down on him with her hands on her hips, wearing only her boots, she shook back her long, wavy black hair, and it tickled across her bare back. She watched as he unbuckled, unzipped, then slid his khakis down and off, leaving only his t-shirt.
“You seem to like what you see, Benson.”
“Yep. What did I tell you when you had clothes on? Oh, yeah. Have a seat. That’s what it was.”
She shook her head with a grin and accepted his offer, a knee on each side of him. Before she’d taken him completely, she held his shoulders and said, “God, Benson, you’re cold everywhere!”
“Blame it on the damn furnace.”
“No, seriously,” she said and began a slow, steady motion on his lap.
“How does cold feel? Something new, huh?”
She sighed and got a grip on his t-shirt with both hands as she sped up her motions.
“Yeah, new, for sure. Not bad either. I could get used to that.”
“I bet. Just don’t stop.”
“I don’t think I could. It’s been a while for me.”
“Time to make up for it.”
She let out a low moan but never slowed.
“Just tell me when you’re getting close.”
She nodded but stayed quiet, and she rose and fell repeatedly, bouncing down onto his thighs and shaking her breasts gently with every motion.
“Oh . . . that was quick. Yeah, I’m getting close.”
“That does feel good. I sure wanted you at least once before I died.”
“Well, happy New Year to you. You got me naked on your lap to start the year.”
“Tell me when you think you couldn’t stop for any reason.”
“Oh, Benson, I’m already there. I wouldn’t stop this for anything.”
She ground herself into him and shook from side to side for his staring eyes.
“You’re sure?”
“God yeah, I’m sure.”
“‘Hell yeah’ is a better choice of words.”
She laughed softly, never slowed, and said, “Hell yeah. No way in hell I’m going to stop.”
“Good, because I have something to tell you.”
Between rapid breaths, while she bounced on him over and over, she managed to whisper, “What?”
He looked into her eyes, which showed the rapture that was just about to break loose for her, and said, “You are a good shot. I’m dead.”
Daria gasped and quickly rose up but before she could free herself entirely, he’d grabbed high on her thighs, with both hands, keeping her there.
“Look into my eyes,” he said.
She did and after a few seconds, her frown softened, and she lowered herself back to sitting still on his lap.
“Good. You like that I’m dead. There’s no shame in admitting it.”
She nodded, and her lips moved without her speaking.
“Say it.”
She hesitated only a second, then said, in a monotone, “I like that you’re dead. It’s a turn-on.”
He grinned and held her waist, his arms riding along with her steady motions.
“Good girl. Enjoy what you’ve always fantasized about: stripping yourself naked and satisfying yourself with a man after you murdered him.”
With his cold hands on her warm thighs, Daria rose up as high as she could and looked down at him.
“God, this is—”
“Hell.”
“Yeah. Hell, this is so good.”
“Do it. Use a dead man for your perverse pleasure.”
With a loud groan, Daria hesitated high up.
“You can’t stop yourself.”
She moaned as she dropped herself down all the way, and she only shifted her hips from there, finishing the act in a hot apartment with Benson’s cold body.
Chapter 3 – A Tangled Mess
The intense throbbing in his left hand jarred Tayo awake, and then, what was left of that hand felt the sticky puddle in which it rested. Before opening his eyes, he listened for any noises coming from the walls and at hearing nothing, he let a deep breath seep out.
Sitting upright at his kitchen table, he looked down at the drying pool on the vinyl tablecloth, then at the ragged cuts he’d made to rid his hand of the finger that had been taken.
I will dress my self-imposed wound first and address the mess after that. And I’ll pray that no more fingers, or any other parts of my anatomy, decide to rebel.
He stood and found his first-aid kit in the cabinet above the refrigerator, and he frowned at the inadequacy of it. Then, he shook his head and chuckled.
Yes, I should be prepared for situations such as this. Of course, I should. Every rational man would.
After treating the crusty damage, he wrapped it as well as he could with the supplies he had, then he rolled up the tablecloth and left it in the sink to drain and dry. After he’d finished, he stretched his arms out while checking the time.
Only one hour into the new year, and I live amidst a disaster that I can’t explain, though I did volunteer for it. Perhaps this is the end of it?
A short walk into the bedroom, a lifting of his shirt, and the proper aligning of mirrors showed him that most likely, his challenges had only just begun. Nothing had changed on his back.
He looked more closely and saw that near his left shoulder, where he remembered feeling the strike of a cleaver, the skin appeared more uniform. Whatever had been written there had been erased, and the skin sagged in its absence.
No, I wasn’t struck with an actual axe, but something has changed. The markings in that corner region appear to be gone.
He looked all around his entire back and sighed, then he let the shirt drop to cover it all.
There’s a correlation—there must be. A portion of what has invaded my body is gone, and it probably occurred in relation to my finger desiring to escape its skin.
He pulled the shirt back up for a quick look, then let it drop again.
There is much to come. But I have the strength to do this. I’m dedicated, and that’s why Lin Finity petitioned me to assist. It’s for the good of all humanity.
Another look at the clock showed that only several more minutes had crawled past.
It’s only 7:00 in Lagos. Jenny sleeps until 8:00. I’ll try to wait because calling her now would raise concerns that there’s an emergency. She must not know.
Still, he took out his phone, hit a few numbers, and listened to Anna’s recorded greeting.
“Anna, this is Tayo. I hope the new year finds you well and healthy. Please return this call at your convenience.”
Seated again at the table, he closed his eyes and listened to the walls. They remained silent, so he crossed his arms and laid his head down, with the intention of resting until he could call Jenny.
Half-drunk and beginning to shrivel from lounging in the hot tub, Anna heard her phone ringing in the other room. She opened her eyes and stretched her arms out, then she stood, stepped out, dripped all over the floor, and began to dry off.
Wrapped in a soft robe, she took a quick look around the apartment and saw that her daughter had not yet returned. She saw also that Ozzy waited on the couch.
That must be a special mystery date, she thought. Good. She deserves some harmless, innocent fun after all we have been through.
She poured a half-glass of vodka and curled up under a blanket on the couch, covering most of Ozzy too. While watching the front door, expecting her daughter to return any minute, the hot bath and vodka conspired to whisk her into a dreamless sleep.
Standing up and getting dressed, Daria looked down on Benson, still seated on the couch, grinning and with his hands behind his head.
“God, even that was cold. Whatever you have, you really do need that furnace cranked up.”
“Again with God?”
“Oh, right. Hell.”
“But you were right. I do need some heat.”
“I will admit that that was a fun kind of fantasy thing, though. I never thought I’d buy into something that kinky. What a weird night.”
“Me being dead?”
She laughed and said, “Yeah, that. I did like that.”
“Not just dead. Murdered. You murdered me. How sweet is that?”
“You’re a sick man, Benson,” she said with a grin.
She’d finished with her dress, and she brushed back her hair with both hands. She shook her head and let out a deep breath.
“I gotta go. I told my mom that—”
“Oh yeah—Anna. Do you suppose she likes sleeping with guys after she’s killed them?”
“You’re a funny guy, Benson. No, she probably doesn’t.”
“It’s all in how she’s asked. Maybe I should ask her.”
“Just like you asked me, huh? You really are sick, Benson, and not just your body temperature.”
He let out a short laugh and said, “Someday. Maybe she won’t even care if someone else did the killing for her.”
Daria shook her head at him and said, “Anyway, I told her I’d be back tonight. See you later.”
“Sure. Bring your gun.”
She laughed and said, “Always,” then pulled the door shut on her way out.
Tayo snapped his head up at feeling something crawling around on his back. More than one thing. He froze and fought to control his breathing, with the creeping sensations moving in every direction.
No, it doesn’t hurt, whatever is going on this time. But is it normal? Would a normal back ever feel such things?
When at last everything had settled, Tayo sighed and stood, then he reached for his phone. He stopped and left it to remain on the kitchen table.
Then, he reached for it again and switched on its camera as he walked back toward the big mirror above his dresser. There, he fumbled around until he’d found a way to hold the mirror and camera correctly, and he snapped several photos of what he was relieved to not feel moving under his skin anymore.
Back at the table, with a tablet and marker, he looked at the photos and tried to find anything that he could reproduce on paper. After some study, he began to suspect that what had lodged on his back wasn’t one single, tangled mess. There were regions where there appeared to be separate entities—symbols that were distinct. One was even repeated in another location. The rest was a tangled mess, and he stopped trying to identify others individually.
Using his clearest photo as a guide, he reproduced three symbols as well as he could, each on its own sheet. Then, he took photos of what he’d drawn.
“Oh, Daria, you are back,” Anna said while rubbing her eyes. She stayed on the couch and pulled the blanket tighter up under her chin. Ozzy only studied Daria while peeking from beneath the cover.
“Yep, said I’d be back. You save any of that vodka for me?”
“Only a little,” Anna said with a laugh. “Of course, there is more in the cabinet, though.”
“Good, I could use a drink.”
“You seem quite pleased with something. I will not pry, but I do wonder how your evening has been.”
“Mom, I don’t mind telling you. That text before? That was from Benson.”
Anna sat up, clutching the blanket close, and stared at her daughter.
“He is dead. You shot him. Remember?”
“Yeah, I know. We left him in that alley. Somehow, he wasn’t dead, though. Isn’t that something?”
“He sure looked dead. I know you are a good shot with that gun of yours too.”
“That was a crazy scene, and we got out of there quick. No one checked him. I probably should have squeezed a couple more into him to be sure.”
“Daria, I am glad you did not do that. Are you saying that you met with him? Is that where you have been?”
“Yeah, mom. I have to say, he seemed kind of strange, even more than before.”
“Stranger than before you shot him?”
“Yeah,” she said with laugh. “I think he might be sick too. Who knows? Your name came up, though.”
“In what way?”
“Nothing important. I think he’d want to see you again. You did work with him for quite a while.”
“I wish to see no one from that past. The only past I am tempted by is back in Russia. The Shield and everyone associated with it can leave me to being alone.”
“Sure, Mom. I get that. I might see Benson again, though.”
“Even though he seemed odd to you?”
“Maybe because of that. It was weird, but he seemed so persuasive. There’s something different about him.”
“I would say to stay away from him. That damn Lancaster Wolfe was a persuasive sort as well. He was—”
“Swearing again? Just from thinking about that guy?”
“Oh, you are right, Daria. That was a dark time in my life. I do not value the company of Wolfe again or even Benson.”
“Well, we’re pretty sure Wolfe is really dead, aren’t we? I mean, back at that cabin, with all the weird stuff that happened.”
“Yes, he is gone, and that is good.”
She finished her drink and set the glass down.
“We are going to bed. Are you staying up?”
“At least long enough to have a drink. Or two. Then, that’s it. I’m exhausted.”
But what are these symbols? I may need to determine that prior to devising a way to destroy this thing. Or even if I am to survive.
Tayo retrieved his laptop from his bedroom and set it up in the kitchen, where he sat with a cup of coffee to begin his search. Before even switching it on, he stretched and yawned as he stood up, twisting from side to side, feeling his back carrying a dead outer layer.
No, this isn’t wise. Besides normal fatigue, I’ve begun perhaps the strangest challenge any living human has experienced. I must rest. In the morning, I can—
A soft squeak from somewhere in the living room caused him to turn sharply and stare at the entryway to his kitchen. He held his breath and listened.
Several seconds of quiet passed, and he let out the breath he’d held back.
A gentle stab hit his back, somewhere near where he’d been struck by a blade, near his left shoulder. He winced and reached for it, then it was gone. He stood, still staring at the door.
With no squeaks and no stabs, he walked over and peeked around the corner. The room remained quiet, the TV dark and silent, and the streetlights mostly barred from entering by the thick curtains.
He allowed himself a deep sigh, which he stifled at the sound of a low squeak, seeming to come from the far corner.
Expecting another pain in his back, in the same place, he waited and stared around the corner and into the room. For a minute, he paused, and nothing stabbed him again.
Will I lose another finger? Is that a mouse coming for another one? If it will let me sleep, I would owe it my gratitude. If it has any honor, it will allow me to—
A single loud squeak threatened to peel the paint off of the walls, back in the far corner of the living room. Tayo snorted out his breath and scurried into the living room area only enough to rush into his bedroom, where he quickly shut the door behind him.
Any observer might think I’m terrified of a mouse. Yes, I am terrified. But that is certainly not a mouse.
He allowed his breathing to calm before he undressed, looking all around at the small room’s walls and trying to be prepared for more stabbing. He was left alone long enough to get into bed and when he reached for the lamp on his nightstand, he pulled back and left it on.
I have enough to fear already. Why add darkness? I cannot be blamed for attempting to minimize my torment.
He accepted the darkness only of his closed eyes and though his back didn’t attack him again, he did hear what he thought was low, distant squeaking through his door.
I could be imagining that. Surely it could just as easily inhabit one of these walls. But it does not. Perhaps it does have some honor and wishes that I sleep and prepare for more horrible things tomorrow.
A pillow over his head managed to block out the squeaking, but he found, as his fatigue pulled him into a dark night, that his imagination of the sound chose to act without compassion.