Stolen Soul (Yliaster Crystal #1)

The key turned again in the lock, the click echoing much louder than it should have in the empty warehouse. Four.

“You were always a smart girl, Lou. That’s right. This is Pandora’s box. The gods placed all the horrors of the world inside it, and when Pandora, overcome by curiosity, opened it, those horrors were unleashed on humanity. Oh, and supposedly the box also contained hope or something. I don’t know, sounds ludicrous to me.”

Click. Five.

“But the truth is that before all the horrors got out, Pandora managed to shut the lid and lock the box. Only some of the things in the box got out. But many remained.”

“Who is your client? Why does he want it opened?”

“My client is a she, not a he.”

Click. Six.

“And she wants it open because she was one of the things unleashed back then. And I guess she misses her family.”

Click. Seven.

Nervous, Matteo picked up the Marlboro pack from the table and knocked out a cigarette. He put it in his mouth and lit it, looking at his boss, who paused between each key twist as if drawing out the moment of triumph.

I was desperate. “Mr. Cisternino, if you open that box, it will destroy the entire world. Isabel saw it in the cards.”

“Not the entire world. Some of it. I would remain. And would receive a more than adequate compensation for my actions.”

Click. Eight.

“Steve, Matteo… you can’t be fine with this? Your boss is insane. He wants to kill us all!”

Steve’s face remained impassive. Matteo’s eyes were anxious, but he said nothing, taking another puff on the cigarette.

Breadknife glanced at me. “Loyalty, Vitalis, is an amazing quality. You could learn something from these men. If you had any time to do so.”

Click. Nine.

Shadows began gathering around the warehouse, the lights dimming. Each twist of the key sounded louder than the last, and by now they were like loud drums, vibrating long after the key had turned. I took a step toward the table. Steve raised a gun and pointed it squarely at me, his eyes blank, free of emotion. He scared me even more than Matteo. I could understand Matteo; I’ve seen others like him over the years. But Steve’s motivations were something I couldn’t fathom.

Click. Ten.

The shadows lurking around us seemed to be taking on forms. Strange, predatory creatures, all waiting for the box to open, for hell to be unleashed upon the world. Breadknife’s fingers hovered over the key, as if even he was suddenly hesitant to turn it one final time.

“Mr. Cisternino… Anthony. Please think about this.”

“I have, Lou,” he whispered. “I’ve thought about it long and hard.”

Steve’s attention was on me, while the rest of the men were looking at the box. No one looked at Matteo.

He was, unbeknownst to him, smoking one of my nightmare cigarettes. I’d transferred the contents to a Marlboro light, hoping that he wouldn’t be able to resist the allure of stealing my smokes again, especially if they were his favorite brand. Now, as the shadows loomed above us, his body transformed. It became thin, bony and pale, with numerous leering mouths pocking his skin. His hair grew longer, turned white and wispy. The kids who had dreamed this particular nightmare had been quite imaginative.

I glanced at him, letting my mouth drop, my eyes widen in fear. Steve, attention focused solely on me, glanced sideways to see what I was staring at. And he saw a nightmarish, deformed witch, standing over his boss, close enough to touch.

He swiveled his gun and began shooting, the explosions sharp and painful in my ears. The bullets tore through Matteo’s bony form as if he were made of paper, and he howled, a tormented, screechy wail.

I lunged forward, flames erupting from my fingers, burning high up to my elbows and casting a hellish light. I grabbed for Steve’s gun hand, and he screamed as I gripped him, the fire sizzling on his skin. He pushed me away and I tumbled back, falling to the floor. But he was too late.

The fire had caught his sleeve, and spread up his shirt. He let out a tortured screech, and began running around, waving his arm, trying to extinguish it but only fanning the flames. I used the distraction and lunged for the table, going for the crystal.

A gun barrel smashed into my face, and I stumbled backward, my vision blurry and tinged with red. Breadknife held his gun pointed at me.

“Good try,” he said vehemently, his words echoed by Steve’s wails as he ran around the room, his whole body a blazing inferno. On the floor, Matteo lay dead, the numerous mouths on his body slack.

“What were you going to do with this?” he asked, raising the crystal from the table. “Smash it and let loose the soul inside? Or did you have an even cleverer plan?”

There was a sudden detonation, and both of us flinched. Steve, his body blazing, had knocked into one of the oil cans, and it cracked. The years-old vapors that had accumulated inside caught fire instantly, and it exploded. Then, exposed to the heat and the flames, other cans exploded as well. Timbers were now catching fire at an alarming rate.

I lunged for Breadknife’s gun, but I was dizzy, my movement sluggish, and he simply stepped back, the gun still pointed at me, the other holding the crystal.

He draped the crystal’s chain around his neck. “You were the best, Lou. I hope the things in the box will find you as useful as I did.”

“I wasn’t going for the crystal, Breadknife,” I said. “Angustus!”

The chain around Breadknife’s throat suddenly constricted, biting into his skin. His eyes went wide, and he began clawing at it with one hand.

“Angustus,” I said again, making the chain constrict even more. His face became purple as his throat made rasping sounds. He raised his gun, but his aim wavered, and he shot wide, the gun dropping from his hand. He clawed at the constricting chain with both hands.

A movement flickered in the corner of my eye. It was Hardy, running toward me. I lunged at the table, grabbing the vial with the purple water. I swiveled to face the huge man, who was only five yards away. I lifted the vial high above my head, and shouted “Stop!”

He did, nearly tumbling down.

“If you touch me, I’ll shatter this,” I warned him. “And then we’ll both be dead.”

He blinked.

“Your boss is gone,” I said, speaking steadily over the roar of the fire around me. Smoke filled the warehouse. “This place is about to burn to the ground. You have nothing left to do here.”

For a long moment we glared at each other. Then without saying a word, he whirled and ran for the exit.

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