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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/867535-Soul-Hunter
by Rocki
Rated: 18+ · Short Story · Supernatural · #867535
Blood is not the only form of sustenance.
         “Are you sure this is right thing we do?”

         “This is only thing we can do, Katyenka. There is no other way.”

         Ivan reached out and took both his wife’s clenched hands into his own. She looked up at him with her clear blue eyes and he almost wanted to cry. But he had to be strong for his love; for them both.

         This was the only way. It was.

         It was.

         The door swung open, admitting the cool early evening breeze coming off the lake, and the two men carrying the unconscious girl between them. Katyenka stifled a moan while Ivan, good, strong Ivan, threw his arms about his wife and she buried her tear filled face against his shirt. The men looked to him, without emotion in their weather beaten faces, and waited.

         “The cellar. I…," he swallowed hard, "Put in cellar,” he rasped. The full enormity of what he was doing slowly took root. He added softly, more to himself than anyone else, while his daughter was taken down into the cellar, with him, “Is cool there. No sun.” Ivan’s arms tightened about his Katyenka’s shoulders.

         “Ivan!” she wailed.

         “Shhh. Will be okay now. This is right thing to do. You saw boy, Katyenka, you saw what she did to him. He never would have survived if not for hay at bottom to cushion fall. You saw.” He fought against the tear that slowly made its way to his wobbly chin.

         “Ivan! Ivan…!” her voice faded to a whisper. “I know.”

         The men clomped back up the stairs and Katyenka finally pulled from the warmth of her husband’s arms and wiped at her face with a linen square. She smoothed her hair and faced the room. It took her a moment before she could speak.

         “Where you find her?” she addressed the bounty hunters, before they could disappear out the door. It didn’t matter which one answered her.

         The taller of the two, the one with shockingly white hair and thick black brows, answered, “Hiding in the caves.”

         Katyenka’s eyes closed briefly, but when they opened again, there was a resignation in them that made Ivan go to her. He gripped her cold hands in his and they gazed at each other as the front door softly clicked shut.


         Katya thought she was still in the caves, until her ears picked up the crackle of a fire. No, not a fire, but torches, lit in the sconces on the walls. The squat, square room seemed vaguely familiar…it was the cellar at her family’s home. This was the last place she expected to end up, when those bounty hunters came calling. Strung up on an ant hill maybe, or a jail cell, but not here. She stood up slowly, stiffly, and tried to guess her parent’s game. But one step toward the stairs, and freedom, and she was tripped up by the chain clasped around her ankle.

         “You shouldn’t curse like that. It’s quite unbecoming.”

         Black eyes swiveled in their sockets searching for the owner of the voice. They fell upon him sitting with crossed legs in a chair in the corner of the cellar.

         “You shouldn’t sit with your legs crossed. It’s so faggy,” she spat back.

         A soft rush of air came out of the dark and Katya heard the smile in his voice as he replied, “Your parents said you were a real spitfire. You do not disappoint.”

         Straightening, she crossed her arms and affected an I-don’t-give-a-shit posture. “Like I give a shit what you think.”

         Finally, he let loose with a small, humorless chuckle. “No, I know you don’t.”

         “Just who the fuck are you? What’s going on?” Katya jerked her leg and rattled the chain for emphasis. “Where are my parents?” This was making less and less sense. Her mother and father, no matter how old world they were, would never let their only child be imprisoned like an animal.

         They wouldn’t.

         They couldn’t.

         “Your parents, Katya, are upstairs. They are the ones who wanted you found and paid to have you brought in for your penance.” His tone was matter of fact, like this was all routine for him.

         Katya propped her hands on her hip hugging pants. “Huh. Okay, fine.” She tipped her head slightly. “That still doesn’t explain who you are.”

         “My name is Joseph. That is all you need to know.”

         His entire body was still, unbelievably, in shadow. The torches lit up the entire cellar, except him, and the small space he occupied. It was unsettling, and seemed unnatural to her. How was he doing that?

         “Okay, Joseph…you know who I am and now I know who you are. So now what? Are you supposed to be giving me my penance? A spanking, perhaps?” Katya’s innuendo fell on deaf ears, or so it seemed to her.

         “A spanking would hardly be considered payment enough for some of the things you have done, my dear.”

         “Lies, all lies!” She stopped and reigned in the spurt of temper, though it was difficult. “That boy, that annoying boy, kept getting in my way. He wouldn’t let me work!” She stopped again, realizing her voice rose with each word that came out of her mouth. Taking a deep breath, in, out, in, out, Katya turned her back on him. “It was an accident.” At the abiding silence that came, she turned her head briefly to the side, and continued, “It was. He was just a boy, after all, prone to the nervous energy of his kind. He tripped. I tried to help him.”

         “If that was an accident, I’d hate to see you do something on purpose. They saw you throw him off that loft, Katya. There were witnesses.”

         Slowly, Katya turned and faced the shadow-with-a-voice. She arched her back and cracked her neck. Once, to the side. “Yeah. Sure. Witnesses. They all hate me. They want me gone.” A sigh forced its way out of her lungs.

         “Is that why you ran away? To the caves?”

         “Wouldn’t you, if no one wanted anything to do with you?”

         “And the chickens? The dogs? Were they accidents as well?” he accused.

         A look that said, “That couldn’t be helped”, crossed her features with a faint smile. “They…were sick. They would have died anyway. I did them a favor, I did. I helped ease their pain and suffering and removed sick livestock from the village. You should thank me. They should all thank me.” Her voice dropped to a low murmur as she gestured with her hand. “I should be a town hero. Instead, I’m chained in a cellar.” Black eyes that rimmed with resentment pinned the shadow.

         “Sick animals, eh? Then tell me,” the shadow’s voice roughened with disgust, “why did you feel it necessary to gut them?” Suddenly, the shadow rose from the chair, and Katya felt real fear take hold of her. She did not want him standing. That was bad. “Just like you gutted Lyle. Were you doing him a favor as well?”

         Katya crossed her arms, an unconscious gesture of defense, and couldn’t make herself look up as she kicked at the chain lying curled on the floor. “He was sick,” she began weakly, “I helped-”

         All of a sudden he was there, in her face, gripping her neck in one amazingly strong hand. She felt his fingertips meet at the back of her neck. There was no scream. No time. Not even to think about it.

         Eyes. Katya stared into eyes with silver centers and dark red irises. The pupils were so large in the dim lighting that the red was only a thin band that appeared black. His mouth was a slash of compressed anger.

         He continued to stare at her like that, until at last he let her go with enough force that she flew back against the stone wall, her shackle scraping hollowly on the floor. He didn’t move away.

         He slapped her, lightly.

         Katya’s eyes blazed with fury as she gasped. “How dare-!”

         He slapped her again, a little harder this time. “No more running. I think it is time you paid your due, my dear.”

         Katya held her trembling hand to her stinging cheek; it was trembling not with fear but with indignation and humiliation. She brushed her black hair from her face and squared her shoulders. The man before her took a step back, tipped his head to the side while a slight smile played about his lips. Confusion spread across her features at the blatant anticipation in his eyes a split second before the burning sensation spread across her chest. She fell to her knees, breathless, with the exquisite pain of it. God! Pressure in her skull: something rising to the surface; clawing its way out. It split her with spires of pain that clouded her vision. Her hands curled into fists against her head as a piercing cry was wrenched from her very soul.


         Joseph watched with a dispassionate glower as the girl contorted with pain. It was not of his doing; the demon that possessed her fought to fully gain control as it came to the fore. His heavy-handedness saw to that. The demoness could tolerate nothing worse than being manhandled. It was why she pushed that boy from the barn loft. The child, being a precocious five-year old, had been pinching and pulling at Katya’s hair that day.

         The animals were just a diversion; the demoness having a taste for chicken.

         The dogs? A pack that had been terrorizing the surrounding villages. They had finally picked on the wrong girl.

         The only one that puzzled him was the beggar, Lyle. He had been harmless, known in the village, even better by the parish priests, for years. The only reason he could come up with purely and simply, was evil: the demon just being herself.

         It was almost time.

         Joseph stepped closer to the girl as the pain of the full merge of the demon subsided. Katya was still there, still aware, but it was the demon who was now ultimately in control, and no longer merely guiding her actions, corrupting her thoughts. Yellow eyes glittered back at him through the curtain of black hair.

         “My dear,” Joseph greeted as, quick as a snake, he reached and captured her head between his hands.

         Yellow demon eyes widened in the brief second before understanding sank in. He saw it, knew it the moment she understood what he was. Why he was there.

         “No…” she whispered in her honey sweet voice. It flowed over him, caressed his senses, his every nerve. “Please,” she begged, and Joseph wanted to let her go, to just let her go so that he could sit and listen to her voice forever. But he was no greenwood. He knew how to shake off the voice of temptation. His entire body strummed with need. For her. To quench the hunger he ached with.

         She saw it: the raw hunger in his strange eyes, felt it in the tightening of his fingers. He wished he could comfort the girl trapped in her own body, wished he could reassure her that what he was doing was for her own good and that she wouldn’t be hurt, but he couldn’t. All he knew, all he felt, was the desire that had him in its grasp, and it had to be appeased.

         Mouth hovering above Katya’s, Joseph unleashed that part of himself that called to the demon possessing her body. Joseph’s mouth parted and Katya’s opened in response, as the demon helplessly struggled against the inevitable. The vampire was superior to the demon, in every way. There was no hope for her now. If the demon had kept her temper in check, had she kept to herself, no one would have realized that Katya hosted a parasite from hell. The slaughtered farm stock had been a mystery, as had the dogs, but the boy had been the final nail in the coffin. Practically the entire village had witnessed it. Katya was a good girl. Full of life and spirit, and she would never have harmed another living being. Their worst suspicions had been confirmed, and he was called in to remedy the situation.

         Helpless; as her soul was enticed by him, as she was lured by the power that called to her: a siren song that would lead her to her doom. The demoness relaxed, languid in his embrace, giving herself over to him like a cobra charmed from its den.

         Joseph felt the demon soul, a joyous revitalization; it tingled on its way down, a warm, almost scalding, delicious filling. Its handhold was loosened on Katya: he felt it as it flowed up, out through parted lips and straight into him, through him. The final burst came, on a strong, smooth effervescent tide. Time slowed and the room began to spin with his pleasure.

         Vaguely aware of the weakening fight the demon put up, Joseph’s arm wrapped around Katya to hold her; her legs would no longer support her. What he didn’t realize was that he actually lowered her to the ground, his hands tangling in her hair. Didn’t realize when he lay atop her, and he lowered his mouth that remaining inch. He did realize, however, when the demon was gone and it was finally only Katya he moved against. Katya he caressed with his body and his hands and his lips. Though weakened from the ordeal of the exorcism, she sluggishly responded. One last kiss, Joseph thought. No more: the after-effects of a drawing were always the same.

         He stood slowly, mind and body still cloudy from the euphoria, and helped Katya up. Then he called to her parents, who would be immensely relieved now that it was finally all over. They had their child back again.

         The family embraced one another, all crying tears of joy and of thanks after they all made their way up the stairs, Katya leaning weakly against her father. Joseph stood back and watched the happy reunion, a tiny pang of envy pinching his insides. Ivan pulled away and came to him. He took Joseph’s hand and just held it for a moment in both of his, a look of such pure benediction in his tear shiny eyes that Joseph had to look away. Ivan bent and kissed the backs of his hands.

         “Bless you, Joseph. Bless you!” he cried.

         Katyenka came to him then and took his hands and kissed the backs of them. They were wet with her tears when she stepped back, too choked up to speak, once again taking her daughter back into her arms. Joseph couldn’t take any more. He moved to the coat closet and took out his robes and heavy cloak.

         “Joseph…” Katya offered quietly. She disentangled herself from her mother’s arms and stood behind him. “Thank you.”

         Letting the wooden cross fall solidly against his chest, Joseph pulled the hood of his heavy wool cloak over his head before turning around. He regarded the young Katya: so innocent.

         “Your soul is pure and whole, Katya. You are goodness, remember that. That is why the demon was attracted to you. It felt your soul and it wanted to be a part of you. To feel a tiny bit of that purity again and remember what it was like, when she was human. But, a demon cannot deny its true nature for very long. You are not to blame yourself for the things she did. Your soul is still pure.” He smiled a small smile. He knew the reassurance he tried to give would be difficult to accept for her, especially after the things she must blame herself for, but they were all he could offer. Katya would learn to live with the memories the demon had cursed her with, and she would move on.

         Katya came forward and Joseph offered her his hands, and she kissed them. He could tell she was just barely holding herself together. It showed in the tightness around her mouth, the lines between her eyes.

         “Bless you, my child.”

         A tentative smile touched her trembling lips. “Bless you, Father Joseph.”
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© Copyright 2004 Rocki (rocki at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/867535-Soul-Hunter