Soul Crafter

Chapter Twelve: Blood Hunt

Michelle looked at him with a mix of confusion and hurt.

     “What?” Michelle asked, looking from Melek to Victor, hoping they’d let her in on their inside joke.

     “You’re originally made of clay. Not only that, but Victor here made you,” Melek said.

     “But that doesn’t make any sense. I’m flesh and blood; I have a blood type. I’ve had blood work done. I have a completely normal body,” Michelle urgently explained.

     Melek grinned at her as he watched her lose what little calm she had left.

     “Not only are you a golem, but your whole life is a lie,” he gasped for her sake in mock sympathy and shock. “Every single memory you have is fabricated. You never had the past you think you had. You never even had parents. All you came from was mud.”

     Michelle’s eyes started to tear up.

     “No, that’s not true,” Michelle said weakly. “Victor, tell me that’s not true,” she turned to look at him, with desperation and hurt in her eyes.

     It made Victor ache inside to see her like this.

     “Why don’t you explain to her how it works?” Melek suggested to Victor, as if talking about some naïve, dumb child.

     Victor breathed in and sighed. He wished he could have told her all of this under better circumstances. He wished he could have let her get to know him better.

     Victor reached out to place his hand over hers.

     “Just because you’re made out of clay, doesn’t mean you’re not real or normal; it just means you were created via different means,” Victor clarified.

     Michelle looked at them, wide eyed and unable to believe what either of them were saying. She took her hand away from his.

     “You are a real girl— no, a real woman. You are flesh and blood. Just because the way you were created was with clay, doesn’t mean you’re not a person. You are exactly who you are,” Victor said softly.

     “In fact,” Melek interjected, “what happened to you is somewhat similar to how I came to be. You see, what’s interesting about you, Michelle, is that Victor weaved a soul for you. He took tiny pieces from all over the universe— including a teeny tiny piece of his own soul. He patched it all up until there was a brand-new soul. I.E, you,” he finished.

     Michelle had no idea how to respond to any of this. All she knew was that she felt sick, and she wanted to run as far away from both of them as possible. She looked at the menacing man before her who was holding her best friend hostage. Chris was unable to move or speak or she’d be forced to stab herself. Victor was apparently her maker.

     “So what is it you want?” Michelle asked, her voice cracking.

     “Finally! The million-dollar question,” Melek mused. “I simply need to borrow you for a little ritual.”

     “What kind of ritual?” Michelle asked, knowing she wasn’t going to like what he’d say.

     “I need you to carry my child,” Melek answered simply, as if asking for a lift in her car.

With that, Victor lost it. He picked up his knife and threw it at Melek. He moved just enough for the knife to miss his heart, but the knife landed in his shoulder.

     Melek looked at the knife in his shoulder, the blood slowly gushing from the wound— then he looked at Victor. “You really shouldn’t have done that,” Melek said with a sneer. “Bianca, dear, stab yourself now, sweetheart.”

     “NO! STOP!” Michelle shouted.

     But it was too late. Bianca was already driving the knife into her throat.

     Melek generated a wave of energy and pushed Victor across the room as hard as he could. His body hit a woman’s, and she was knocked against the wall, while Victor was blown out of a tall window— glass shards flying everywhere as people screamed.

     Melek quickly grabbed onto Michelle. Chris, sobbing and screaming over Bianca’s bloody neck, looked up but before he could even blink, Michelle was gone in a puff of smoke, along with Melek.

     Victor jumped back into the dining room through the window and saw chaos everywhere. People were screaming, crying, and calling for help. He looked for signs of Michelle or Melek, then his eyes landed on a brunette woman in a purple dress, on the floor with her head bent in an awkward position.  There were various other guests crouched beside her. He listened for her heartbeat but heard nothing.

     So this was the casualty of Melek’s shockwave.

     “Chel?  Chelsea!! CHELSEA!!!!” a woman, probably her mother, cried over her body.

     Snarling, Victor walked by the scene over to where Chris stood. “Where did Michelle go?” Victor demanded darkly.

     Chris was white as a ghost as he held his phone up to his ear. He was holding his jacket against his sister’s throat with his other hand, trying to stop the blood flow. Her yellow dress was now covered in red.

     “Where did Michelle go?” Victor demanded darkly.

     “I-I don’t know. He was just there; he grabbed her and then he was g-gone,” Chris stuttered, fighting back his sobs.

     Victor extended his senses all around the area, searching for any clues as to where Michelle could be—any energy patterns that could indicate to him where Melek took her.

     For the first time in a while, he was truly horrified. He could not sense where she was. He couldn’t even sense that she’d been taken into another dimension.

     Melek could do any number of things to her, and she would be helpless to stop him. An ancient habit caused him to take shallow breaths. The sound of sirens approaching engulfed his hearing, and then, red lights were shining through the broken window he’d been thrown through. Paramedics arrived and put Bianca on a stretcher. They checked Chelsea Anderson, but it was clear to them almost immediately that she was dead. There was nothing they could do to help her. Chelsea’s family cried over her body. What was meant to be a beautiful birthday, filled with love, romance, dinner, and dancing, turned into everyone’s worst nightmare.

     Chris ran over to Victor.

     “I hope you’re going after that piece of s**t,” Chris spat darkly at Victor.

     “Of course, I am,” Victor said, quickly exiting the house. The red lights from the ambulance parked out front made the front of the house seem ominous. Chris followed him out as he wandered off into the trees.

     “What are you doing? You’re not coming with me,” Victor said, his lip curling.

     “That guy nearly killed my sister— I want to get back at him as much as you do,” Chris said.

     “You need to go be with your dying sister. I don’t think she has a lot of time left,” Victor said. Dread crossed Chris’s face. He didn’t want to think about the possibility that she was dying.

     “No, I can’t do anything for her now. Let me help you,” Chris insisted, his voice cracking as they walked farther and farther away from the house.

     “You saw what he did tonight. You would be absolutely useless,” Victor said plainly.

     “No, I can handle myself! I know what to expect. I know you’re different, but I can deal with it just fine!” Chris exclaimed, grabbing onto Victor’s shoulder to turn him around so that they could face each other.

     He didn’t realize he’d regret that motion. When Victor faced him, he let out a terrifying roar. His eyes were pitch black, with glowing red irises. Frightened, Chris let go of Victor and took several petrified steps back.

     “You know what to expect, do you? You can deal just fine?” Victor fiercely growled, making the hair on Chris’s neck stand up. “You’re not coming!” Victor spat almost demonically, then turned and sprinted away, vanishing into the darkness.

     Chris then came to his senses and ran forward into the shadowy area Victor had run into, but it was too late. He was already gone.

****

     Victor spent the whole night teleporting to as many places as he could. He searched every town, every street, every area he knew, looking for her. He frantically searched for her scent, for any sign of her and her whereabouts. He searched until he could barely teleport anymore. His senses grew weak, his vision blurred, and his speed was much less than before. Of course, he was still stronger and faster than any mortal, but for him, his sudden weakness was a dire hindrance that he could not afford right now.

     The last place he appeared in was a dark alley that for some reason, smelled promising. He walked down the narrow path until he saw a man approach a large dumpster and carelessly throw a bag of something inside with a loud thud.

     He approached the dumpster, picked up the trash bag, and immediately ripped it open.

     Inside, he found two kittens, gratefully gasping for the fresh air they now had. One kitten was gray and white, the other black— both with brilliant blue eyes. Victor immediately swooped them up. He quickly ran around the town he was in, until he found an animal shelter where he left the two kittens in the care of a perplexed, plump elderly woman.

     Once out of sight, he quickly dashed back to the alley where he’d found the kittens and followed the scent of the one who’d thrown them in the dumpster.  He knocked on the man’s door and stood back away from him as he hurled insults at him— evenly yelling to him what a vile weakling he was, and how he was trash barely fit to even exist. The man did as Victor knew he would— he exited his apartment and lunged at Victor.

     He didn’t even bother smiling triumphantly. Making sure there were no witnesses, Victor quickly dragged him all the way upstairs until they were on the roof of the apartment complex. With his hand covering the man’s mouth, he violently bit down on the man’s neck. He screamed, but the sound barely escaped Victor’s iron grip on his jaw, keeping his mouth securely shut.

     He drank until the man went limp, and then let his body drop. Normally, he would dispose of him, but right now, he didn’t have the time.

     He returned to the alley that had sparked his interest. His senses were slowly returning, sharpening, and he could smell something of interest now: Melek.

     He zoomed down an adjacent street where he found a homeless may laying down on the moist concrete ground. The man was wearing a brown leather coat.

     Victor bent down, yanked the coat off of the man, and brought it up to his nose. It was definitely Melek’s scent.

     “Hey, that’s mine! Give it back!” the homeless man protested, now awake.

     “Who gave you this?” Victor demanded. The homeless man looked at Victor with horror in his eyes. Victor had apparently forgotten to wipe the blood off of his chin and lips.

     The homeless man stood up and began running away. Victor caught up to him in no time and pinned him to the wall, glaring into the man’s eyes.

     “Please, please don’t hurt me!” the man pleaded.

     “Just tell me where you got this,” Victor said with a snarl.

     “I found it on the ground, man. I didn’t know it belonged to you. T-take it; I don’t care,” the man trembled.

     Victor believed him.

     “If you tell anyone about me, I will come for you,” Victor threatened, a faint red glow appearing in his eyes. He let the man go, and he ran for his life.

     Victor examined the brown coat he held, wondering why he couldn’t smell Melek beyond the scent coming from this coat, and why he couldn’t find Michelle, either.

     Then it dawned on him. Victor knew of a rarely used method that could block heightened senses. The only reason Victor couldn’t find Melek or Michelle was because Melek used blood magic to mask his whereabouts.

     The good news was that if Melek was using a blood magic spell to block his senses, he knew of a way to find him.

     The bad news was that it involved killing someone.