Separate Souls | #1 Tainted Series

Chapter Twenty-Seven

"His hands grabbed her small waist, and their lips crashed together."  

Ryder Tate:

Ryder refused to believe it. He kept reliving his conversation with Vincent, as if the more he went through it, the more real it'd be: "I was unable to save Frederick... passed away shortly after you left... with the rest who haven't been claimed ..."

He focused on the moonlight reflecting off the stone pavement and the lit lanterns along his path. Despite this, the world around him darkened, bleaker than before.

Dead. His father was dead.

In a rush, he'd found himself in front of the Chamber of Notables, a small stone building with a tilted roof, a sign dangled on the edge of the doorknob, saying closed in splattered red paint, chains covered the entrance from side to side in an 'X' shape, but Ryder didn't care. He wanted to see his father, even if it was only his spirit animal. He needed to see it.

Glancing around, he took an old pipe on the ground and smashed it on the chains' lock.

He clobbered it, hitting it again and again. The clacks and thuds reverberated, making Ryder want to cover his ears, but he kept going, all his effort into this single act.

Ryder needed to see his father. He'd only believe it if he saw his father's spirit animal. His body moved on its own, as if he watched himself from afar. Had he wanted his father to live? Would it really have been for the best if he'd left?

Ryder's heart wrenched at the thought of his father's last moments. He needed to save him, to show his father he could make him proud once and for all, and he'd even failed at that. He'd always supposed they would fix their bond somehow. He'd never expected to be cut off so quickly. Everything had happened in a blur, so much so, that Ryder barely processed the lock crashing down, he yanked down the chains and, after several attempts, kicked the door open. He sneaked through.

Once inside, he noticed the spirit animals in glass exhibitions, all sorts of animals, some had steel engraved into the enclosure to make sure none would escape. He was immediately astounded by the large number of animals in this small hallway.

"What are you doing here?" a voice crowed. Ryder's heart leaped in his chest when he looked up.

An old man carried a beaten metal bucket. His eyes squinted at Ryder, his nose was large and bulky, he had red stains on his overalls, and he wore green plastic gloves. "We're closed."

"I know, I know," Ryder said. "I just—I needed to see him. My father, he—"

"Yeah, well you might as well help while you're at it," the old scrawny man shuffled over him, swinging the bucket unto Ryder's hand. Immediately, the smell of raw meat and metallic blood infested his nostrils, bile threatened to rise in his throat when he saw the bucket's contents: red, thick, and slimy spirit animal remnants.

Ryder simply stood there, breathing hard. "Where—where did you get this?"

The old man shot him a look, clearly frustrated. "Listen kid, whoever you're looking for's not here. Look around you," he pointed to animals around him. It was then when Ryder noticed the animals' noises joined together: coo's, growls, howls, clicks, and hisses, and so on so forth.

"They're all animals. And that's what some animals eat."

Ryder dropped the bucket unto the ground. It clattered, spilling blood over the concrete. The old man started yelling at him, but Ryder couldn't hear. He leaned against one of the glass exhibits, running his hands against his clothes, trying his best to rid of the smell.