The Likeness of the Night by A.J. Burnes

Author:A.J. Burnes [Burnes, A.J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Night Rize
Published: 2020-08-01T23:00:00+00:00

TWENTY

I lay on the rough gravel until the rain washed away most of the blood and brain matter that had splashed across my face. Then I sat up and pushed the headless corpse off my lap.

The corpse slumped lifelessly onto the ground beside me, but I knew that the detachment of a soul from a body took considerably longer when the parasitic spirit of a demon was tangled up in the strings. So I focused on the body, peered past the physical form, and scrutinized the real mess that the demon had made of his unwilling host.

Dozens of thin, wriggling black tendrils, like roots, had burrowed deeply into the shining silhouette that was the man’s soul. Even now, as the strings of life were trying to unravel and allow the soul to pass on to the other side, the demon’s many appendages were holding the soul in place.

The soul was already badly damaged, the outer shell riddled with cracks, from the pressure of supporting the demon’s spirit. And if the demon didn’t let go soon, the degradation would rapidly advance, since the physical body could no longer support the soul.

Even if the demon had been exorcised, this poor guy wouldn’t have survived. The spiritual damage is simply too severe.

I made a thankful prayer to no god at all that I hadn’t killed someone who might otherwise had lived. I swore to Death that I would only ever deliver lost souls to his domain, and I intended to maintain that oath till the day I died again.

“You’re a lost soul now too,” I murmured to the body beside me, hoping the soul had some sense of awareness despite the damage. “Don’t worry. I’ll free you like all the rest.”

I summoned my soul dagger, but I had to grab it with my right hand because my left refused to function. The deep burns to my left arm had melted my nerves and tendons beyond the point of use.

I refused to look at those burns as I rolled over onto my knees and positioned the dagger over the headless body’s chest. Despite the downpour, I could smell my cooked flesh. The arm would be unusable for weeks.

Taking a deep breath, I plunged the dagger downward. The blade sank through the skin without touching it and entered the soul. In a swift sawing motion, I cut away the demonic tendrils holding the soul to the Earth.

The demon’s spirit lashed out at the dagger, but his spirit form wasn’t a threat to me, so I ignored him and diligently continued my work. When I severed the last tendril, the soul immediately evacuated the body, and the Hand of Death whisked the poor man away to the other side.

Death was a cold god, but They performed their duties well. They would repair that demonic damage before sending the soul on to the afterlife.

I withdrew the dagger from the husk of the body. The demon’s spirit tried to hitch a ride with the dagger, but his writhing tendrils slid right off the blade.

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