Cursed Souls

Four

By the time I reached the address, my legs were aching, blisters had formed on my heels and my face was red and sore from the cold. After what I'd overheard from the Watch officers, I'd ripped the reflective logo from my back and thrown the beret into a puddle of oil. Without these, covered in mud and damp with sweat, I managed to pass as a common street urchin and walked through the Undercity with ease.

I'd been walking for hours, and the streets of the Undercity had slowly started to come to life. Activity echoed through the city as people emerged from the dilapidated and crowded buildings, children played in the streets and markets started springing up between the endless rows of houses.

A home to the poor among us, the Wielders and the Elementals that were refused shelter in Ireion, or those with diluted magic running through their veins who had lived here for generations, the Undercity had more residents than it could hold, leaving people living on top of each other in shared pre-war ruins as a result.

Colour, life and noise soon filled every direction and I'd realised this was nothing like the Academy had told us. We had been taught to fear the Undercity - that it was riddled with crime and disease. It was why we came here to train. But during my journey, the only thing I'd felt threatened by was the Watch.

The Undercity was primarily built from ruins, with temporary shelters propped up between the townhouses, but it definitely had a certain charm to it, even the building Dorian had directed me to held a certain kind of beauty. Made of dark brick, it towered over it's neighbours, boasting ornate statues, wrought iron features and stained glass windows that glimmered in the lights suspended in the walls of the Undercity. It was now or never. I took a deep breath and knocked.

The wooden door opened with an unceramonious creak, and Dorian popped his head around to greet me. "Well well well, if it isn't the little Watch Officer?" His voice dripped with contempt as he took in my appearance. He held the door wide and I loosed a sigh as I pushed past him into the foyer, eyes widening as I took in the space. It was large, bright and old-fashioned - a different world from the chaotic architecture outside.

A floor of grey and white mosaic tiles was partially covered with a patterned rug, and the walls featured light wooden cladding and a floral cream wallpaper. Above me glowed a chandelier holding an array of semi-melted candles that began swimming in my vision as the exhaustion caught up with me and I sank to the floor with a thump.

-

"You can't keep her here, D." A calm female voice filled the space around me.
"She needs help Tess, look at her." Dorian replied, exasperated.
"What about the cult? Or the Watch? If they find her here we're fucked."
"They won't." He assured her. My mind was racing, but I kept still, eyes closed. The cult? That must have been who I interrupted doing the ritual, and the Watch - the confirmation that they were after me sent chills down my spine.

The sound of heeled footsteps reverberated through the room. "You have a week, Dorian." The voice, Tess, said, "get it out of her, get it gone, then get her home. That's an order."
"Of course."

A door slammed as she left and I finally opened my eyes. I was laying on a plush dark chaise lounge in a room with light patterned wallpaper and a hardwood floor. A fire sparked to life in the hearth and thick black curtains were draped across the window, blocking any outside light. Instead, several wall sconces cast a glow over the cosy space, catching on the golden threads of the blanket that had been placed over me. I felt safe. Dorian had taken a seat on the other side of the room, with his head in his hands. "How long have you been awake?" He asked, rubbing at his temples.

"Long enough." I replied, scooting myself up into a seated position. Someone must have changed my clothes. My scruffy watch uniform was replaced by soft navy pajamas and my skin and hair was scrubbed clean. "Who did this?" I demanded, pointing down at the clothes. My cheeks burned at the idea of someone undressing me. Dorian smirked, raising his head to look at me. "Get over yourself, it was magic. And you're welcome, I could have left you on the floor."

I turned away from him, crossing my arms. "How long was I out?" I asked.
"Just a few hours. Tess said it was exhaustion. There's some food over there if you need it." He motioned to a porcelain plate of meat and cheese on a nearby ottoman and my stomach let out a growl in response, but all I could think about was Tess's words; Get it out of her, get it gone, get her home.

Fear brewed inside me and I turned back to find Dorian glaring at me. "What were you talking about, you and Tess?" I said. I needed some answers. I didn't know who these people were, what they wanted from me or why they asked me here, and the thought of something being inside me shook me to my core.

Memories of the ritual played throughout my mind - the eye contact with whatever they were summoning, the snapping of my neck, and Charlie's lifeless face brought a foul taste to my mouth. The grumbling in my stomach was well and truly silenced. Dorian sighed, grabbing the plate of food and making his way to the door. "Come on, we'll walk and talk."

I followed as Dorian guided me around the ground floor, showing off an ornate kitchen and a cosy dining space filled with dark mahogany furniture, chatting idly about how this place was one of the last fine houses in the Undercity.

Picking at the meat and cheese as he went, Dorian seemed right at home, and I supposed he was. When I met him in the hospital, he instantly struck me as a fighter - perhaps even a threat. But here, his leathers had been replaced by a deep navy house coat, loose-fitting grey trousers and a matching t-shirt. His feet were bare and his hands were lacking the gloves he'd worn before, but a glint of steel showed itself against his tanned wrist. Even here, he was armed, and I was vulnerable.

We stopped before a small oak door on a curved wall and Dorian unceremoniously dumped the now empty plate onto a side table, turning and locking his brown eyes with mine.

"Here's the deal, Eve." He started, "this house is a base for the Guild of Blades. You may have already guessed it, but I'm a hunter, and I found you in that cellar while tracking down the cult, or a branch of it, who were busy summoning demons using the blood of your friends."

I blinked in response, completely overwhelmed. The Guild of Blades? I had never heard of them, never come across them in my training at the Watch - was this some sort of underground illegal operation? And if a cult was summoning demons, why had we been sent there to evict trespassers? My head was spinning. I didn't want to be here. Demons, hunters, cults - I wanted no part of it. The realisations had me shaking, the now familiar fear creeping through my bones, but I had to know. "Dorian, why am I here?"

"While you were down there," he said, "you messed with something you shouldn't have." I shook my head, I couldn't have, could I? All I did is was try and stay out of it and leave. A giddy feeling rose through me, like I was stifling a laugh. A quiet voice in the back of my mind spoke to me; "stupid girl, you don't want to be involved? It's too late for that now." I squeezed my eyes shut, I must have been bordering on hysteria, so much had happened - so much death. I wanted to go home.

"Eve," Dorian sounded hesitant, like he was talking to a small child or animal - I don't blame him, shaking with my eyes closed, I must have looked crazy. "Eve, listen." He started again and I took a deep breath, grounding myself, before opening my eyes. "We have reason to believe you're possessed." He swung open the door before I had the chance to react, revealing a large group of people in various shades of navy, seated at a round black table, light from a stained glass window illuminating stacks of paper and instruments in front of them. "You're possessed, Eve" he repeated. "And we're going to help you."