Chương 16: Chapter 15: Experimentations of the Soul

"We're leaving already? What the hell did you see?"

"Just keep walking." Micheal gritted his teeth. Marco frowned and looked back at the apartment complex. If I speak of it, I'm inviting it to follow us. Goddess be damned… I need to purify myself. No, Marco too. Micheal hailed a coach from the end of the block, and they rode back to the central district, then to Lovel in a few dozen minutes. The ride was quiet, the horses neighed not, and the driver was a bald mute. When they arrived, Micheal paid twice the normal fare on purpose and rushed into his home.

"What's gotten into you?" Marco locked the door behind them.

"Get some holy water. Now." Micheal took off his coat and shoes, tossing them into a wooden basket. Marco's face twisted in worry, and he rushed into the office. Micheal began undressing piece by piece, until every inch of his skin and flesh was exposed to the lantern's gleam. He threw his clothes into the wooden basket and hauled it to the very corner of the room. Marco returned from the office, holding up two large glass bottles of holy water.

"Is this eno—" He looked away, closing his eyes.

"Fuck! Why are you naked?!" Micheal grabbed one of the bottles.

"Purify my clothes. I'll be right back." He then rushed into the bathroom without saying another word. Micheal pulled open the cork and stood in the shower basin. Then he grabbed a dry towel and drenched it with a quarter bottle's worth of holy water. He began rubbing every spot of his skin, from his limbs to his chest, down to his girthy manhood.

"Marco! Get me a glass!" Micheal yelled.

"Which one?!"

"The wide one!" After a few seconds, the bathroom door creaked open, and a hand holding a glass emerged from the crack.

"Here…" Micheal grabbed the glass, placed it on the counter, and filled it with holy water to the brim. With a deep breath, he raised the glass and pressed it vertically against his face, covering up his right eye. He blinked and gritted his teeth as the salty holy water flushed into the crevices of his eye, burning away any sort of taint or corruption. After twenty seconds, he switched to his left eye and did the same. Afterward, he lowered the glass and took a step back.

He looked at his reflection in the mirror, and then around the empty bathroom. Micheal placed a hand over his chest.

"Oh Goddess of Death, protect me from all evil, deliver me from sin, and ensure the lies of my enemies do not reach my heart." I don't feel anything following me. But I have to make sure. He clicked his tongue and activated his Witnessing. His historical figure appeared in front of him, buck naked, cleansing his own eyes with the glass of holy water. The bathroom was still empty; there were no strange murky shadows growing in the corners. With a sigh of relief, he wrapped a towel around his waist and walked out.

Marco was waiting for him in the living room.

"Are you… alright?"

"Aye." Micheal gave Marco the bottle of holy water.

"Purify yourself too. I'll cleanse your clothes." Marco bit his lower lip.

"Can I at least undress in the bathroom?"

"Do what you want." Marco hurried into the bathroom with the bottle in hand. Micheal waited by the door, tapping his foot against the floor. After a few seconds, Marco opened the door halfway and tossed out his clothes one by one. Micheal placed the clothes into another basket, not bothering to fold them up. Then he grabbed the other bottle of holy water and poured half of it into the clothes.

"Lady Death, cleanse these clothes of all evil." He murmured, and splashed the remaining holy water into his palms, making sure to get every inch and crevice. Micheal went into his room and donned a simple white shirt and a pair of linen pants. He grabbed a similar set of clothes for Marco and set them on the table by the bathroom door. Without saying another word, he went into his office and plopped down on the cushioned seat. An awful feeling had been boiling in his chest ever since he left that apartment.

He needed to let loose. He opened a bottle of beer and took one massive swig, drinking it down halfway. Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings. Damn it all… here I thought this was going to be easy money. I thought I was just dealing with the Church. Fuck. After a while, Marco walked into his office fully dressed, but his hair was still lightly damp.

"Can you finally tell me what's going on? What the hell did you see back there?" Micheal took a deep breath.

"It was a shadow that took the shape of a man. And it looked at me. It saw me through the veil."

"How is that possible?"

"Few things are impossible in this world. You saw me go over to the bed, right? I was making sure I wasn't seeing things. That fucking bastard twisted its head and followed me."

"Bloody… I understand why you left in such a hurry." A croaking laugh escaped Micheal's lips.

"It wasn't just a historical projection. It was there. Its eyes were clearer, clearer than it should have been. I think our culprit might be a generation lower than we thought."

"What? Like a fourth?" A chill ran down Micheal's spine at the mere thought.

"Hopefully not. Or else, we'd be damned."

"You're still thinking of going through with this?"

"A deal's a deal. I can't just abandon my client. But just this one. I don't think I'll accept his other offers." Micheal sprang to his feet.

"Come on, Marco. Let's run a few tests." He grabbed the paper bag and walked up to the second floor. Marco let out a sigh as he followed behind. It came from the shadows, and it took the shape of a man. It walked over to the sisters and held out its hand to the youngest. He entered a small laboratory upstairs, or at least he liked to call it as such. He flicked the light on, shining down on the small, cloth-padded chamber.

A steel table sat in the center, and a few bottles of colorful liquid were stowed away in a long drawer to the right, while an assortment of tools hung from a wooden rack right by a closed window.

"Get the tray and brush." Marco took off a small metal tray and a wooden brush made from horse hair from the rack. He placed both of them on the table. Meanwhile, Micheal opened the drawer and grabbed a large vase-shaped bottle containing a vivid blue liquid. It was a Soul Solution, meant to expose spiritual traces to mortal eyes. After placing the bottle on the table, he set the two strands of hair and the paint flakes on each side of the tray.

"Cover them," Micheal said. Marco dipped the brush into the bottle, twisting it for a few seconds. When he pulled it out, the horse hairs were damp, but still brown.

"Start with the flakes." Marco nodded and began brushing the flakes and scraps of paint. After a few seconds, the flakes shimmered in a bright orange gleam. It was spiritual remnants.

"Tell me what you see, boy."

"The color's very bright. The taint is recent."

"Is that all?"

"I think that's all. I can't tell the generation from just that."

"You can't, but we can estimate. Look closer. The brightness is like a coating; there's still specks of dullness here and there. It belongs to a higher generation."

"I can't see it."

"I guess your eyes still aren't as developed as mine. But you still did good."

"Not everyone has eyes like yours."

"Aye, if that was the case I'd lose my job. Now, let's have a go at the hairs. Just a few dabs. We don't want to damage them." Marco gently prodded the two strands of hair, spattering them with the strange Soul Solution. The black strand shimmered a very faint orange, like a candle about to die out. But the red strand shone the brightest orange, even more so than the flakes. Micheal frowned.

"So it's the same… this taint isn't what we're looking for."

"Who does it belong to?"

"Can't be Maria, and if it was Evelyn, it'd be a tad darker. It could be Eliza's, if her soul was also affected by the curse. But if that were the case, the Church would have also taken her. I think it's remnants from the Inquisitors. Maybe a shoddy cleansing," Micheal said.

"Couldn't the ritual have cleansed the spiritual traces?"

"No. If they were investigating, they wouldn't use a destructive ritual. They'd use something softer than holy water."

"So our monster didn't leave any traces."

"Not a monster. A person. A very skilled and careful individual."

"You're certain it's a person? And not a monster?"

"Monsters are very prideful creatures. The moment they gain sentience, they think they're superior to us men. Unless they were forced, they'd never mimic our visage. This helps us. A monster is born with their talents; a man learns them."

"What do you have in mind, then?" Marco leaned against the wall and listened.

"They must be old. They can control their desires, and they're very good at what they do. As for bloodlines… it can't be a Specter; I didn't see a ghost. A Sovereign can empower people, but not to that extent. And Death—Death can hide in the shadows, but they can only ever kill. If it was a Visionary or a Justiciar, they would have left some traces no matter how good they were."

"What about a Watcher?"

"A Watcher?" Micheal furrowed his brows.

"True, we can hide our traces pretty well. Some leave nothing behind at all. That could also explain how it saw me. It took control of my Witnessing … only a lower generation is capable of doing that. A sixth? Maybe even a fifth? As for the awakening…" He looked out of the window.

"An artifact could have been used." He then glanced back at Marco.

"I'm going to write a report. Clean up the laboratory." As Micheal took the first step down the stairs, Marco's voice echoed behind him.

"Don't you think this is enough? Tell Valentine this was all you could find."

"I doubt he'd be satisfied. I've dealt with many dangerous beings before. I know when it's time to stop." Micheal continued down the steps.

"Hopefully you still do."