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“For the rest of you,” spat Darius. “I myself would have no cause to consider them as a role model.”

“You’ve made that abundantly clear.”

“Have I? Good.” Darius patted the sarcophagus. “Your friend Lauren. Your…lover, as she became, is one of the most benevolent souls in the world.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“I am about to,” said Darius. He crossed the room and unclasped one of the seals on the vat.

Curran frowned. “That’s gonna stink this place up to high heaven.”

“Tragically, yes, but it will only be temporary.”

“Temporary?” Curran found it difficult to believe fermented vomit would smell only for a short time.

“Long enough to pour the contents out into the sarcophagus.”

“Why would you do that?”

“You wanted to know what I’ve done with Lauren.”

Curran felt his stomach churn. “Yeah.”

“She is in the sarcophagus.”

“Still?”

“You saw her when you first came in, yes?”

“Yeah.”

“Before you realized I’d simply thrown my voice so you would sneak down here and I could come up behind you and disable you.”

Curran sighed. “Right.”

“You did better on the stairs, by the way, than I thought you would. Especially since the third one from the bottom always creaks a terrible amount.”

“I’m thrilled you approve.”

Darius unclasped the other seal. “Honestly, the smell is pretty nasty. But like I said, it will be over fairly quickly once I start the ceremony.”

“Let Lauren go.”

“I can’t do that, Curran.”

“Let me take her place.”

Darius laughed. “You can’t be serious. Your soul is as gray as they come. There is some good in you but there is also some evil. You’ve been scarred before and you hid your resentment deep down there, never working through it. You harbor animosity toward people who have crossed you in the past. You have a lot of issues, Curran.”

“Yeah, so?”

“Your soul is not suitable.”

“And Lauren’s is.”

“Oh yes. Like I started to say before, the evil souls I have gathered must be allowed to inhabit the body of a benevolent soul. In that environment, the evil souls will feast on the goodness of the host body, a sort of spiritual feast, and at that point where the last vestige of good is destroyed, then and only then can Satan come back and inhabit the body.”

“You’re telling me that Satan will be walking around in Lauren’s body?”

“Exactly.”

Curran frowned. “So why am I still alive? Why not just kill me now?”

“Ah, yes, well, you too play an important role in all of this.”

“Yeah?”

“In much the same manner that the evil souls will feast upon the good soul, so too will the physical need nourishing.”

“Nourishing.”

“Yes, my dear homicide detective. You see, you are the first meal that Satan will enjoy when he finally enters this plane. You are to be his midnight snack.”

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Curran considered this. What the hell, he thought, I never believed I’d come through safe and sound. He looked at Darius who seemed to want to milk the moment.

“What’d you use on Lauren, drugs?”

Darius sniffed. “Please. I wouldn’t presume to contaminate her blood with so earthly a creation as narcotics.”

“So, what? You use your little powers or something?”

Darius shifted and turned to face Curran. His face morphed again, drawing itself out like Silly Putty pressed to a comic. His skin lengthened and darkened. Curran watched as his jaw dropped down, unhinging and yawning like a great snake. He could see the white teeth disappear, only to be replaced by yellowish triangular ones with deep serrations running down the sides. Coarse black hair sprung out of Darius’ head. His nose receded, drawn back toward his misshapen skull while his nostrils turned up giving a porcine appearance.

The rest of his body grew as well. His robes burst at the seams as his flesh expanded and filled three times the space his human body had. His arms lengthened topped with a fearsome looking set of claws.

And all the while he moved closer to Curran.

His voice filled the room, a piece of splintery wood drawn across heavy grit sandpaper. “Tell me human if you don’t still think this is all the ravings of a lunatic. Tell me you don’t believe now what others have told you is truth. Look at me — see what I am — what I can become with mere will — and tell me that I exist only in your pathetic mind.”

Curran’s throat went dry.

Holy crap.

The demon standing before him chuckled and it sounded like all the phlegm in the world was gurgling against the back of his throat. “So, maybe you do believe after all.”

“Are you still Darius?”

“Names are merely labels for humans. You would not be able to pronounce my name in your tongue. Call me what you will for it matters not.”

Curran watched him turn back to the sarcophagus. He strained against the ropes holding him tight. There had to be a way to get out of them.

But even if he was successful, then what? Curran didn’t have near the martial arts skills that Kwon had had. What then?

He knew for sure his pistol was gone. But what about his backup piece? With both his legs free, he tried to rub one against the other. Was that it? He couldn’t be sure if he still felt it there or not.

He needed to get free.

The demon lifted his arms. “The hour grows near. I must begin.”

Curran kept flexing. “You mind if I catch this act some other time?”

The Soul Eater glanced over his bulbous shoulder and eyed him, one opaque orb topped by a yellow and red pupil. Curran had never seen such cold eyes. “It’s time for you to be quiet, Curran. Sit there and say nothing. Your time will come soon enough.”

Curran frowned and flexed his wrists against the ropes again. There was definitely some wriggle room. Not a lot, but there might just be enough.

Darius checked the candles and then moved into the center of the pentagram, raising his arms toward the roof of the cellar. He cleared his throat, closed his eyes, and then began to speak.

His voice deepened, but the words coming out were foreign to Curran. If he’d ever thought about it, this must be what someone talking in tongues would sound like.

While his eyes were closed, Curran continued flexing against the ropes. He figured it must be right close to midnight. He didn’t think the demon would speak for long. Not after waiting for all those years. That didn’t leave much time to get free of the ropes and help Lauren out of that damned coffin.

The demon turned his back to Curran and stood before the vat. He lowered his arms as if to encircle the vessel, his voice dipping into lower monotones. He almost chanted now.

Curran could see something happening to the vat. It almost looked like it was starting to boil.

He frowned.

The evil souls were stirring. At long last, their period of hibernation was coming to an end.

And they’d be hungry.

Curran glanced around the room. Where was his gun? If he could get out of the ropes, he’d need a weapon. At the same time, he didn’t want to alert the demon into somehow spiritually tying him up as well.

He flexed again and felt one of the ropes give.

Darius lifted the lid off of the vat.

A wave of putrid smell washed over the entire cellar. Curran retched and tasted some of his own bile. The stench was incredible. Darius placed the lid at one of the points of the pentagram.

He lifted a black-bladed knife and then slowly drew it across his own scaly palm. Curran watched the blade bite deep into the thick callused skin. A stream of fresh blood rained into the vat. It had an immediate effect. The contents began churning like an angry sea.

Curran tried his best not to inhale, because every time he did, he wanted to puke all over again. He steadied his mind and flexed again.