Soul Eater Read online

  Contents

  Welcome To Hemisphere!

  Get Your Public Service Announcements Here

  Four Authors One Town

  Dedication

  Epigraph

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  About The Authors

  Calamity Or Death By Misadventure

  Hello, New Resident. I am Billy Baltimore, one of the Hemisphere City Planners. We’ll get you all moved in shortly, but first I have been asked to read this brief statement:

  The Hemisphere City Planners are a group of undercover authors just sitting around thinking $#!@ up. Most of that then walks the streets of Hemisphere. It’s not as important who we are as it is that you enjoy our little town. All new residents receive a robust information packet, so that they have everything they will need to survive. We the city planners welcome you. As we are fond of saying, Hemisphere: come for the great schools, stay for the weirdness.

  Okay, that wasn’t too bad, was it? Now, I really must insist that you take seriously that bit about the information packet. If you want things that go bump in the night, Hemisphere’s got ‘em, but hey, don’t worry. Everything you need to know is right in there and will give you every chance. It might help you find a great restaurant, too. Just click the link below.

  http://www.subscribepage.com/d8n7d2

  See you around, Neighbor. I think you’re gonna like it here.

  —Billy B.

  HEMISPHERE

  Anything Can Happen, and Something Always Does

  Twitter

  http://twitter.com/hemispherebooks

  Facebook

  http://www.facebook.com/TheHemisphereUnderground

  Hemisphere On The Web

  http://hemisphereunderground.com

  BILLY BALTIMORE

  Twitter

  http://twitter.com/ambillyb

  Facebook

  http://www.facebook.com/IamBillyBaltimore/

  Billy On The Web

  http://billybaltimore.deadaheadbooks.com/

  One Town Many Stories

  (But they’re all A Hemisphere Story)

  BILLY BALTIMORE

  Emma Spaulding Paranormal Detective: Sasquatch

  Emma Spaulding Paranormal Detective: Djinn

  Emma Spaulding Paranormal Detective: Soul Eater

  G. OLDMAN

  The Corgan Family Chronicles

  Book 1: Peril In The Park

  Book 2: Rise of the Watchmen

  Book 3: Hessian House Brewery

  (Coming Soon)

  J.J. BELDING

  The Ripple

  KIT NASH

  The Rectifier Series

  Book 1: Some Assembly Required

  Book 2: Fusion

  (Coming Soon)

  To all those who take that long look in the mirror and aren’t afraid to do the work, to make tomorrow better than today.

  Mistakes are always forgivable, if one has the courage to admit them.

  —Bruce Lee

  1

  Pharaoh Khufu ran through the halls of his palace. His skin glistened with sweat, drawn out of him by the dry desert heat and the swell of anxiety that raged within his chest. Even now he could hear the lamentations of his people outside the palace walls. He had meant to be a righteous king, to sit upon the throne of Egypt in all the radiance and glory befitting a god. He had meant to be a righteous king, to be a god to his people, but he knew himself too well, knew all too well that he was no god. No mortal could be, but he had found a way. He made a bargain with one who was. She had given him all he asked for, but like any bargain too good to be true, this one came with a price. For the demon-goddess Ammit, that price was all of Egypt.

  Ammit was the soul eater. Her hunger knew no bounds because the guilt of humankind knew no bounds. She existed only to judge and to punish the guilty and everybody was guilty of something. Unleashed to vanquish his rivals and all who might threaten his power, Khufu solidified his status as almost none who came before him had. Those Ammit did not consume, she kept at bay with the promise of restless wandering forever in the afterlife should they not bow before Khufu. Content to let Ammit do her work, he sat upon his throne. But Ammit had a hunger that was never filled and soon the blood ran thick in the streets and byways of his land. But in her insatiable desire to destroy, Khufu had discovered her undoing and he had done it by beseeching another goddess, one who would never have helped him the way Ammit had, but one also who would never have done what Ammit did.

  The Mistress of the Horizon came to him when he called her. Taweret was a goddess-protector of Egypt and had lent her wisdom to Khufu. The words were bitter to his ears, but he knew instantly that they were true, that by following them all Egypt could be saved from the scourge he had unleashed upon his people. As he burst into his son’s chambers his heart was breaking for the remedy that lay before him. The smile that formed on Kaweb’s lips and the joy in his eyes at seeing his father only made Khufu want to falter, to let all of Egypt burn for his sins, but he knew he could not. When he seized his son, the child showed no fear. Why should he? A father’s embrace should never cause a child to be afraid. Kaweb threw his arms around Khufu’s neck, even as Khufu withdrew his blade. With an anguish he knew was his just reward, Khufu slew his son. It was a sin beyond almost all others and one he knew would draw Ammit to him. He did not have to wait long, his guilt called to her louder than the guilt of any other in all the land. His only comfort, if it could be called that, was that he would end the demon-goddess.

  Ammit appeared before him, her eyes somehow alluring and cold at the same time. She produced a single ostrich feather, the symbol of Ma’at, goddess of truth. Khufu knew what came next and he was ready. He felt like his heart had already been ripped from his chest, the warmth of Kaweb’s blood still fresh on his skin. Ammit plunged her hand into him and tore his heart away. Holding it still beating in her hand, she held the feather in her other. A moment’s hesitation and then a smile. The only thing that would make her smile, the condemnation of a truly guilty man. The heart began to glow, the embers of fire sparking to life even as the heart began to die.

  Before he was condemned to wander forever, banished from Egypt and the land of the living, Khufu knew he had to act. With the last of his strength he seized Ammit, plunged the blade of hippopotamus ivory into the demon-goddess’ own heart. Ammit’s face contorted, first in confusion and then rage as she realized what the king had done, the full unfolding of Khufu’s plan.

  A god-king and a goddess united in death, one to imprison the other for all of eternity.

  2

  “Tell me how all this works again, Gil,” the accountant said, as he buzzed around the aging archaeologist.

  Doctor Tyson drew a heavy sigh which had nothing to do with the blistering heat of the Egyptian desert.

  “Cosmic rays. From… the universe. We are bombarded with them all the time,” Doctor Tyson said, moving out of the shade of one canopy to head for the shade of another. Under each, was a series of mounted photosensitive plates, all of them pointed at the Great Pyramid of Giza.

  “Cosmic rays, Gil? What does that even mean?” the accountant said, staying on the elderly man’s heels.

  Doctor Tyson brought his hands to his face and rubbed his eyes. Stopping abruptly, the much younger man ran into him. Turning, Tyson pushed him back, not nearly as hard as he would have liked.

  “Why must I keep explaining this to you? And what does it matter, anyhow? I include all this information in my reports to the Co
nsortium. It’s all there,” he said, turning and leaving this set of plates for another twenty-five yards further on.

  “You have never explained it to me, Gil. I have only just arrived this morning,” the accountant said, trying to keep up.

  This statement confused Doctor Tyson and he stopped midway between the two canopies.

  “But of course… only arrived?”

  The young man jogged to a stop and tried to catch his breath. Pulling a handkerchief from the back pocket of his khaki pants, he wiped his forehead.

  “It is really hot here. What is the typical acclamation period for new arrivals?” the accountant said.

  Doctor Tyson lost all patience and turned on his heels and hustled over to the next station.

  “Your name’s Collyfield, yes? Your memory is unreliable, Mr. Collyfield. You might want to have that checked out. I think there is a plane leaving tonight from Cairo. You should definitely be on it,” Doctor Tyson said, making adjustments to the plates.

  “Bill Rogers,” the accountant said, huffing under the canopy, his hands on his knees as he labored to regain something resembling normal breathing.

  “Huh? Rogers? You’re not Collyfield? What happened to Collyfield?” Tyson said.

  Not waiting for an answer, Doctor Tyson moved back out into the heat and on to the next set of plates.

  “Collyfield was replaced… by Martin Thomas,” Rogers said running after Tyson.

  Doctor Tyson spun around and stared at Rogers the accountant.

  “Who’s Thomas?” Doctor Tyson said, watching as Rogers ran past him to the shade of the next canopy.

  “Thomas is the accountant I replaced,” Rogers said, his voice sounding like a gasp.

  Doctor Tyson frowned and headed for the next plate.

  “Huh? How many of you are there?” he said.

  Patting his forehead, Rogers grabbed at the canteen strap from off Doctor Tyson’s shoulder as the old man stared at him. The accountant spun the top off and planted the canteen to his lips, drinking deeply. After several swallows he handed the canteen back to Doctor Tyson. Doctor Tyson eyed the mouth of the canteen with measured disgust before screwing the cap back on and slinging the canteen over his shoulder.

  “The reason they keep sending us, Gil, is precisely because you have not kept the Consortium abreast of your progress. Not for a very long time. You avoid explaining anything at all to any of the representatives of the Heritage Consortium and so they keep sending us. And now they have sent me,” Rogers said, turning and stumbling out into the heat.

  “Doctor Tyson furrowed his brow and leaned out from under the canopy.

  “Where are you going, man?” he said.

  Rogers called back to him without turning around.

  “To the next… tent thing,” Rogers said.

  “But this is the last one…” Doctor Tyson said, already forgetting the man’s name.

  He watched as the accountant shuffled to a stop and bent over, his hands again on his knees.

  “You really should think about that plane out of Cairo. You don’t look well,” Tyson said, then ducked back under the canopy to check the final set of plates.

  A moment later, Rogers threw himself into the shade of the canopy.

  “Please Doctor Tyson, the Consortium has been more than patient, but their patience is fast running out, as is their generosity. So please, give me something I can tell them, some kind of update as to their investment or I’m afraid I’m the last accountant you will see and whatever funds you have left will be the last dollar you will see,” he said.

  Doctor Tyson stopped inspecting the plates and stood up. This did get his attention. He was doing this research on the Giza Pyramid on behalf of the museum, a museum his great grandfather had started. A museum that, in the day of on-line and short attention spans had seen its resources dwindle. He needed something big to attract investors and had been forced to solicit funds from organizations like the Heritage Consortium, organizations that expected reports and results for their money.

  “Of course, of course. I would be happy to, anything to ease their minds,” Doctor Tyson said, clasping the young accountant on the shoulders and beaming at him.

  Rogers the accountant breathed a big sigh of relief and again grabbed the canteen from Doctor Tyson’s shoulder.

  Doctor Tyson put his finger to his chin and looked up. He knew he was dealing with number crunchers, bean counters who either knew nothing of science or had no appreciation of it.

  “Let me see if I can put this in its simplest terms for you… eh…”

  “Rogers… Bill Rogers,” the accountant said.

  Doctor Tyson broadened his smile.

  “Yes, of course. The heat, you know? Okay, here it is. We are going to X-Ray the Great Pyramid of Giza,” he said.

  Bill Rogers only stared back and Doctor Tyson kept his smile, not really wanting to take the time to explain any more and hoping what he said would be enough.

  It wasn’t.

  “And how are you going to do that, Gil?” Rogers said.

  Annoyance tugged at the corners of Doctor Tyson’s mouth, threatening to wipe the smile away. Not for the first time, he thought he wanted to punch the young man in the face, for calling him by his first name as if they were friends. They were not friends, not on a first name basis, and he was a Doctor of Archeology for Christ’s sake. He thought at least this little shit should call him by his title. Shoving down the frustration and thoughts of assault, Doctor Tyson maintained his smile.

  “Yes, I guess that is an oversimplification. Certainly the members of the Consortium are bright people and will understand specifics,” Doctor Tyson said, not believing if for a second.

  Rogers only nodded as he withdrew a notepad and pen from the breast pocket of his Khaki shirt.

  “Okay, well, as you know, when you get an X-Ray, radiation passes through you, but the denser parts of your body stop the rays, things like your bones. The fleshy parts of you allow the rays to pass clean through. The X-Ray machine is recording the shadows that are cast by your bones. Well, that’s all we’re doing here, except with cosmic rays. Understand?”

  “No, I don’t. Sorry Gill, cosmic rays?” Rogers said.

  Doctor Tyson drew a breath and pursed his lips.

  “Okay, well the earth, you, me, that Pyramid right there, are bombarded all the time by subatomic particles. We are being pelted by them right now. You can’t see them or feel them. They pass right through us similar to the X-Rays,” Doctor Tyson said, resisting the urge to berate Rogers for the dolt he was as he watched the accountant rub his chest, a concerned look on his face.

  “Oh, don’t worry, they can’t hurt you. It’s been happening, well forever really. The important thing is, they function just like the X-Rays. Denser objects absorb them. Less dense objects let them pass through. We record the shadow of what is left behind, and essentially will get an X-Ray of the pyramid. These plates are highly sensitive to those cosmic rays. Understand now?” Doctor Tyson said.

  Doctor Tyson slapped Rogers on the shoulder. He turned as two others joined them under the canopy.

  “Aah, good, you’re here. All is in order and we are ready to proceed, yes?”

  The younger of the two new arrivals nodded his head. Behind him, an older man stood looking impatient.

  “Bill, I can call you Bill, right? I mean you call me Gil even though I hold a PhD in Archeology. Let me introduce you to my trusted assistant Ahkbar. And this stoic looking fellow here is Muhammed Ali, our friendly government representative. He is here to ensure we play nice with all the treasures of the past,” Doctor Tyson said.

  Rogers shook hands with the men.

  “Muhammed Ali? Really, that’s your name? You know, there was quite a famous boxer with that name in America,” Rogers said.

  Muhammed Ali stared back at Rogers, his face decidedly unamused.

  “No, I did not know that,” he said.

  The uncomfortable silence that followed was broken by
a clap from Doctor Tyson.

  “Gentlemen, we are ready. If you will direct your attention to this monitor here, you will see the fruits of our labor. And the Consortium’s money, Bill,” Tyson said, gesturing to a computer screen sitting atop a rickety wooden table near the plate array.

  They all gathered around and stared at the screen.

  “Proceed, Ahkbar,” Doctor Tyson said.

  Ahkbar flipped a switch on a control panel. The only indication that anything had happened was a soft thrum from the device.

  “What’s it doing, Gil?” Rogers said.

  Doctor Tyson moved his hand like he was waving away a bee.

  “Patience, patience. Ah, yes, we’re getting something now,” he said.

  Rogers leaned forward, getting in Doctor Tyson’s way. Annoyed, Doctor Tyson pushed him back and peered in close at the screen. The others gathered around, looking in from the sides. Slowly, but quite clearly, lines began to form within the image of the pyramid. The entrance to the pyramid, a long tunnel sloping upward, opening into an expansive area, below that a smaller area and more tunnels.

  “Are those lines what you were looking for, Gil?” Rogers said.

  “No, man! Don’t you do any research? Those are the known areas, the excavated areas. What we are looking for is…” Doctor Tyson’s words trailed off as he waited for the screen to refresh.

  “There! There! Do you see it Ahkbar?!” he said, first pointing to the screen and then grasping the sides with both hands as if in an embrace.

  “Yes, I see it, Doctor!” Ahkbar said, keeping his eyes fixed on the screen and tapping some keys on the keyboard.

  Rogers leaned in closer.