Humming softly to himself, Father Sonny watches Hailey Penze walk away with her mother. A few minutes ago, the two met for a friendly discussion in the confession booth. As the last few stragglers walk out of the church, Soneillon taps his chin pensively. Then he turns and walks back to the altar, slinking through the pews and the untouched bible resting on the lectern.
“Hailey Juniper Penze,” he says with a chuckle. “This will be fun!” Then his eyes darken and take on a sly cast. “But on the off chance that things go the wrong way…” He pauses and turns back to the bible, flipping through a few pages. “I think we’ll tuck those instructions somewhere in the back of Luke, eh? Satan knows there’s more than enough pages of his tedious drivel that one or two missing won’t matter.”
Then he ducks under the lectern and grabs a slew of wires and electronics, pulling them up and placing them atop the bible. “Now how does this machine work? Something about red circle buttons and talking into the microphone?”
After pressing a few buttons, he settles down and begins to speak clearly into the microphone, “Hello Eldritch…”
Several weeks later, Hailey slams her hand down on the pause button, cutting off the recording and the voice of Soneillon. Fingers shaking she exhales and says in an uncertain voice, “Dammit. You’re banished. Why are you still haunting me?”
“Child,” Belinda says quietly. “You do not have to listen to this. Whatever it is, you do not need to humor the demon.”
“It could be important,” Hailey says quietly. “He could have information about the wizard.”
“Or it could be one final attack, a parting barb.”
Bracing herself, Hailey closes her eyes and puts her hand over the play button. “Probably. But no matter what it is, I need to know.”
The sound of a record scratch emanates for a few seconds before Soneillon’s voice comes through clearly.
“-aiden. It seem unbelievable, but if you’re hearing this then I have somehow failed at killing you.” Soneilloin sighs wistfully. “What a shame, eh? We could have had so much fun together in Hell. I would have cut off all your fingers one by one and-”
Slamming her finger on the fast forward button, Hailey moves the tape along a few minutes ahead.
“-and flay the skin from-”
“Jeez,” murmurs Hailey as she hits fast forward again. “He sure does love the sound of his own voice.”
“Child…”
“No Bel,” Hailey says sharply. “I can take it. It’s just words after all.” Her tone, however, reveals her lack of faith in her own words as a slight quiver comes through.
Then she takes a deep breath and presses play on the tape.
“-sea of blood. Oh but I’m getting sidetracked!” The voice darkens, as Soneillon seems to lean toward the recorder and say in a voice that practically conveys his smirk, “You remember what I told you? How I can get inside those with hate in their hearts?”
Hailey pales, recalling the conversation they had in the confession booth. “No,” she whispers, a horrible thought starting to come to her.
As if anticipating her reaction, Soneillon’s voice emanates from the tape. “Oh yes, I know you remember and I know you remember just who we were discussing at the time. Your lovely mother. Well I know I said possessing your parents wasn’t part of my plan, and that was true as I’m sure you’ve discovered by now. But I got curious, and really can you blame me? I mean, aren’t you? Don’t you wish you knew exactly what it is that makes your mother hate your father? Doesn’t it just eat at you?”
The voice pauses as Soneillon takes a deep breath on the other end of the recording. “My oh my! I know you’ll only hear this if I’m banished back to the underworld, but it would be such a nice favor if you would just,” Soneillon sighs longingly, “if you could just savor what you must be feeling right now. Just let the combination of hopelessness and hatred linger for a little while, just for me.” The voice turns affectionate. “Oh and, think of me when you do?”
“Not like I have much choice now, do I?” Hailey asks, irritated. “You won’t shut up!”
“Well I thought you might like to know, the exact source of your parent’s hatred.” His next words leave Hailey crying silently as she digests the implications of his statement. Gleefully, Soneillon says, “You, darling little Miss Penze, are the reason. They’ve hated each other ever since you were born and that little seed, that tiny kernel of resentment so small neither of them consciously know it exists has hardened into a solid ball of pure hatred so intense and ingrained they’ll never escape it! And it’s entirely your fault!”
As the laughter of the demon plays, Hailey cries. Then the sound cuts off abruptly, light fading from Eldritch Maiden’s hands as she stares down at the destroyed recorder. Her eyes spark and shine, glimmering as her tears falls. Angry, she buries her head in her arms and thumps it against the table.
“I hate him,” she says in a small voice. “I really, really hate him.”
In the underworld, Soneillon sneezes. Then he glances back up with a half-smile and replies, “Well I got one of them, right? And I set the anchors for your resurrection like you asked, so in the end I think it was a success.”
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Atop the throne made of chains, the skeletal figure of Thorm Athow hisses in an unearthly voice, “You failed, demon. With the blood of just one of them my resurrection will be incomplete.”
“Who cares?” says Soneillon with a shrug. “Incomplete, complete, what’s the difference a soul makes? I’ve never missed mine, why should you?”
“Because,” snarls Athow, “I will be soulless.”
“Look,” Soneillon replies pragmatically, “soul or no soul you’ll be alive again. Isn’t that fun? I’ll tell you, the land of the living has really changed recently. They’ve got these new tubes that carry information anywhere you want called the internet, and people just fill it up with all this anger, rage, and hate like you wouldn’t believe.” Wistfully, Soneillon adds, “It’s gorgeous.”
“Gorgeous like the blaze of a witch burning?” Athow snaps back.
Expression darkening, Soneillon purses his lips and says in a cool voice, “There was nothing wrong with my plan.”
“Your plan was unnecessary. You should have simply killed her from the start.”
“You were the one who told me your little spell would make it impossible for me to directly attack the one who cast the summoning. Just because you didn’t mention it was the exact same girl you wanted me to kill that used the Malleus Malleficarum, well that isn’t exactly my fault.”
Athow smiles, his dead form reclining on the throne of chains and bindings. “Very well, it was a difficult task I admit. To kill the girl without killing her yourself, I was curious how you would manage.”
“I thought the mob was a nice way to send her off,” Soneillon answers glibly. “Besides, it was killing two birds with one stone, corrupting the innocent and offing the girl.”
“Had it worked…”
“Had it worked,” interrupts Soneillon, “you’d have a soul to go along with your body when you’re resurrected.”
“Unfortunately, I won’t,” Athow says with a frown. “Your failure is a catastrophe. I will have no soul!”
“Well either way,” Soneillon replies uncaringly, “can we agree that I fulfilled my end of the deal?”
“Fine,” Athow replies tersely. “Your obligation to me is discharged. You can return to whatever burning piece of Hell you call home.”
Sighing, Soneillon turns away from the wizard’s prison and remarks, “It’s a shame. I’d wish you luck in killing her, but candidly I almost hope you fail so I have another chance.”
“You’re banished, not to return for a hundred years,” Athow replies with a frigid look.
“Yes,” Soneillon says with a chuckle, “but a banishment is only temporary and considering how your magic just played around with the terms of my summoning I feel confident I can find some way to play with the terms of my banishing as well…”
Then, with a wave and wink, he vanishes in a puff of smoke that takes the shape of a wide grin.
“Worthless creature,” Athow says as he watches the smoke curl out toward the nothingness that surrounds his prison. “But you might just get your wish, for without a soul…” He falls silent. Painfully, and with great effort, he moves his head a few millimeters and glances down at his hands, buried beneath the cold steel. Flexing the fleshless fingers, he murmurs, “Without a soul. Soulless. Is it really so different from when Belinda tore out my heart the first time, all those eons ago?” He finds no answer to his question among the nothingness of his prison. For a time, he sits in contemplation. Then, after a few minutes, he speaks once more. “Without a soul, will I be capable of emotion? Of love? Or will I lose you again, Belinda?”
Grimacing, he lifts his head back up, struggling against the weight of the bindings and the horrible magics contained within. In a stronger voice, he says, “Will it even matter if I cannot feel? I may not even be able to reunite with you my beloved, after all souls carry far more than mere emotion…”
He falls quiet once more. Ensconced in his manacles, Thorm Athow begins to plot and plan, turning his mind to the problem of his soon to be soulless existence and the unique obstacle it represents.
“Mom,” Hailey begins tentatively. “Dad gets back tomorrow right?”
“Yes, why honey?”
Hailey slides into the dining room chair and asks, “So, where is he?”
Popping a stray piece of fruit into her mouth before answering, Mrs. Penze replies cheerily, “On a business trip, I thought we talked about this already?”
Glancing to the side, Hailey says uncomfortably, “I know, but it just feels like there’s more to it than what you’re telling me.”
Pushing the diced fruit into a bowl, her mother walks over to the table and puts it down in front of Hailey. “Set out the plates, would you?”
Grumbling to herself, Hailey sighs and stands up, walking over to the kitchen to grab plates. “You didn’t answer my question. Where is dad, really?”
Cutting with increased ferocity to match her tone, Mrs. Penze says in a faux bright tone, “Honey, he’s on a business trip. Doing business stuff. Put out a couple glasses out too while you’re at it.”
Following her mother’s instructions, Hailey begrudgingly begins setting the table. “Mom,” she begins, “I know something isn’t right between you and dad. I just want to know what.”
“Heh,” her mother exhales exasperatedly as she slams down the knife. “Hailey, darling, your father and I are just fine. Why are you asking?”
“I’m not stupid,” protests Hailey, “I can tell things aren’t right. Dad’s gone all the time and you don’t seem to care!”
“I do care!” her mother replies angrily. “But his job is important and I understand that, so should you.”
Taken slightly aback by her mother’s outburst, Hailey does not have the opportunity to reply before her mother continues in a calmer tone. “Look honey, travel is hard on us all but you can’t take that out on me or him.”
“I’m not trying to!” Hailey protests, “But I know you aren’t telling me everything about what’s going on.”
Her mother finishes her dicing and uses the flat edge of the knife to scrape the pieces of fruit into a second bowl. Then she picks up the bowl and walks over to the table, plopping it down in front of her daughter. Putting a hand on her hip, she says in a no-nonsense tone, “I’m telling you what you get to know. Which is the truth. Your father is away on a business trip, and he will be back in a few more da-”
She frowns, stopping at the sound of buzzing. Then she fishes around in her pocket and pulls out the source of the buzzing, her phone. Swiping through a few messages, she chews her bottom lip for a few seconds before amending her previous statement. “He will be back tonight, late.”
“Fine,” Hailey replies crossing her arms over her chest. Then, petulantly, she adds, “I’ll ask him. Dad won’t lie to me. He never lies.”
Scooping up a generous helping of fruit and putting it down on her daughter’s plate none to gently, Mrs. Penze replies, “Don’t bother. He and I will have a conversation about your behavior myself, since you seem so insistent.”
A snippy reply makes its way to Hailey’s lips then dies instantly as she sees the warning expression on her mother’s face. After all, dear reader, even the heroine brave enough to face down demons quails at the sight of her mother’s ire! Wisely so too, for the look on her mother’s face is not one that will tolerate any hint of her teenage daughter’s oncoming tantrum.
Answers seem in short supply, dear reader! Fret not, however, for Hailey will have another chance at them next week. But her reprieve from the villains of Liberty City may not last as long as she might like, complicating her personal quest for the truth about her parents. A truth that may threaten to tear them apart in… “Siblings!”