Chapter Eighty

His unfortunate choice of words aside, Hank had a point, and I considered it.

I had secured Tilry’s help, which was good, but I didn’t believe she had much insight into the workings of a wild spirit, and she definitely wouldn’t know how to increase the size of my Spirit Room safely. Hank would, and I was sure I could use him. Somehow. But Hank was … well, for the lack of a better word, quite child-like in a way, as evidenced by his antics. Hm. It wasn’t the most comforting of thoughts; a wild spirit with the ability to consume me, paired with a mind that boasted the kind of understanding of the world a kindergartener would have.

He had already eaten a small, fist-sized chunk of my soul, resulting in his ability to think and speak, which I guessed was better than him being your run-of-the-mill wild Tentacle Horror. But the question was whether I trusted him enough to give him a little more of myself, and perhaps elevate him to the level of an edgy teenager, or even a dysfunctional adult. I had no idea if he’d have enough self-control not to gobble me up, though. I mean, ninety percent of his whole shtick was “I’m Hank, so eat-eat-eat”, and it wasn’t filling me with the kind of confidence required to make a snap decision about this. But, time was of the essence — I figured we had about two, maybe two and a half weeks before our journey to the continent, and I wanted to be ready.

In theory I could do this without having to transport my consciousness back to my main-self in the Spirit World — ever since my trip over there I’d had a vague but sufficient sense of the ongoings in our body, so I was aware of Hank’s occasional attempts at biting into my soul, and I could stop it with little to no mental effort.

The fact was that he had already eaten some of me, and I couldn’t see, feel or otherwise sense any adverse effects. Hell, Kiwa was missing an entire soul-arm, and apart from an almost indiscernible sense of “missing something” — her words not mine — she was just fine.

If I was to do this, I needed to do it while Krissy and Kiwa were asleep and unaware, otherwise they might actually talk me out of it.

I was almost sure I could sort of supervise or control how much of my soul Hank would be able to take. Almost sure. Would that be enough? Ah, what the hell, I needed the critter to do better than he was doing now, and it looked like it was snap-decision-time after all. All it would cost me were an arm or a leg. Hopefully not both.

‘So … Hank,’ I called my infantile spirit-kraken roommate.

‘I’m Hank!’ The enthusiastic reply came.

‘Yes. So, how do you feel about making a deal?’ I asked him cautiously.

‘Deal? White-soul-deal?’ he inquired clumsily but quite perceptively.

‘Yeah. That,’ I said. ‘I’ll let you have some more of it, but only if you behave, don’t try to take more than I’m giving you, and after you’ve eaten and became more … well … clever, you’ll help with a few projects I’m ...’

‘What are you doing?’ Tilry interjected, not letting me finish the sentence.

‘I’m making a deal.’

‘Why? Isn’t it dangerous? What if it eats you?’ she wailed. ‘Lady Krissintha would be angry if you died.’

‘Deal is deal,’ Hank said, then added, ‘I’m Hank.’

‘Don’t worry, Tilry, I know what I’m doing. I think,’ I said, failing to sound as confident as I wanted to.

‘Do you?’ the familiar protested, and for a change she tried to actually move away from her host to approach my spherical body. She couldn’t of course, but it was the thought that counted.

‘Are you worried about me?’ I asked her, pleasantly surprised.

‘I am. What if this … Hank takes over and eats us all?’

‘He can hear us, you know.’

‘I’m Hank.’

‘Listen, Tilry, I’ve made the decision, so I’m doing this. If things go wrong, you know what to do,’ I said to her.

‘I do?’ she asked. She clearly didn’t know.

‘Wake Kiwa up and get out.’

‘And Lady Krissintha?’

‘Well, in the unlikely event of this ending badly, which it won’t, you won’t have time to do anything for her.’ I said.

I knew full well I wasn’t only risking myself, but sometimes you just had to roll the dice with nothing but insufficient facts, feeble assurances and plenty of gut feelings to back your decision. And that’s what I was doing. Hank had been a constant companion, even before I had realised it, and his newly developed ego and intelligence had not changed the fact that we were in this together, and that I needed him to help me properly. And the above-mentioned gut feelings were telling me this would work, and Hank wouldn’t develop into a hangry, homicidal maniac upon consuming some more of my soul. I mean, it was my soul, and I was as sane and non-homicidal as the next man. Or spirit. If you didn’t look at my track record to fact-check.

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Tilry settled down, drawing closer to her host’s sleeping form, and just gave me a reluctant but resigned nod like she was agreeing to the execution of an innocent man.

‘Right. Are you ready for this, Hank?’ I asked the Tentacle Horror.

‘I’m Hank.’ The predictable reply came.

***

My heart was in my throat, ignoring the fact I had neither heart nor throat. Had I been capable of sweating, I was sure I would have been doing that too, and I was worryingly close to getting cold feet.

I could feel the anticipation emanating from Hank — a weird sensation at the edge of my consciousness, definitely belonging to someone other than me, growing by the second, becoming so pronounced I felt like someone was intensely staring at me. He was looking forward to this, probably salivating, his grabby little tendrils already near or on my soul, ready to take the first bite, just waiting for me to withdraw the invisible wall of my will preventing him from touching it.

‘Okay, a part of one of my soul-arms, up to the elbow. Only that, nothing more. Got it?’ I said to Hank.

‘Got it!’ The reply came, his voice deeper than usual, and it reminded me of the panting of a dog with his tongue out, waiting for his meal.

I took a deep, mental breath, and I just … let it happen.

I tried not to think about it, tried not to visualise it, but I couldn’t help it. An image of a vicious wolf — who looked suspiciously like Akela — pouncing on his pray. Or a hawk diving down to grab a squirrel, its talons sharp and deadly. Or a shark. Or a velociraptor.

Luckily or unluckily, the images didn’t last long — the sharp pain of someone biting into my forearm chased them away in an instant.

It hurt. The first time he’d taken bites out of me, I hadn’t even noticed it. Then again, I hadn’t had the lingering connection to my spirit-world-self then that I had now. I felt the critter tear a piece out of me, and it hurt. Alright, I had to admit it wasn’t unbearable, but still, I wouldn’t have said no to a little local anaesthetic. And I truly, sincerely and quite desperately hoped it would be worth it.

I wasn’t sure if Hank was trying to torture me or he just didn’t have the capacity to take larger bites. He worked slowly, consuming small chunk after small chunk, each of his bites stinging and burning. He was taking his sweet time, and I gritted my metaphorical teeth while trying not to think about how ridiculous this was. I was letting someone, a Tentacle Horror of all spirits, eat me. A Tentacle Horror. The most infamous and feared of all the invisible buggers out there. I had sort of got over the fact that for all intents and purposes I was one myself, but still, the sheer absurdity of it was something to behold. Well, it was too late — we were doing this, and Hank took the last bite, arriving to the designated border, namely the elbow of my soul-arm, beyond which he had no business munching.

‘Just two more!’ I heard him growl, almost as if he was in pain as well.

‘Oi, no!’ I yelled at him, then I felt him take another bite, border crossed and elbow gone. ‘What the fuck are you doing?’

‘Just … one … more!’ he said, struggling to project his thoughts.

‘You treacherous bastard!’ I bellowed at him, while trying to will him away from my soul. It didn’t work. I felt him take another chunk out of me.

‘Ohhh,’ he wheezed like he was out of breath or something, then he let out a thought that sounded like a yelp.

Then nothing. Hank went quiet, and I felt his spiritual tendrils withdraw completely, even before my body managed to react to my mental effort and put whatever protection it could back into place.

‘Hank? What have you done you idiot?’ I demanded.

No answer.

‘What happened?’ Tilry asked, her voice worried.

‘The scheming piece of spirit-goo took more out of me than planned,’ I stated, fuming with anger.

Was the stupid critter really that greedy? I had thought he understood the deal and agreed to it. Had I misjudged him as well as the whole situation? Had this been a bad idea? I wasn’t sure. Yes, he had taken a little more than we’d agreed on, but my mind for some reason put the emphasis on the word “little”. It really was a little. Two small bites.

I felt somewhat weird, and I certainly began to understand the sensation of “missing something” Kitala Iwani had described after her whole soul-arm had been chewed off, but … I was okay. Plus, if I was honest, Hank’s “just two more bites” didn’t sound malevolent or greedy, really, instead I could have sworn I felt something like desperation in his voice. Maybe.

Hm. How was I to approach this? Well, I had been accused of being a pushover in the not-so-distant past. It had a smidge of truth to it, but I was working on it. Would giving Hank the benefit of the doubt be a pushover thing to do? Maybe. But I had to keep the long-term goals in sight, and my initial anger dissipated quickly.

‘Hank? Are you alright?’ I asked.

No answer. He was definitely there, I could feel his presence just as I had before, but it was as if he had fallen asleep.

‘What’s going on? Are you alright? Is Hank still there? Why isn’t he saying anything?’ Tilry bombarded me with her worried questions, and I was sure the object of her worrying wasn’t Hank.

‘I … don’t know,’ I said. ‘He’s still there but he’s quiet. Indigestion, maybe?’

‘Indigestion?’

‘Yeah. He bit off more than he could chew. I mean, didn’t he sound like he was struggling with the last two bites?’

‘He … did.’ Tilry agreed. ‘So what now? Is it safe? Is he going to try to eat more?’

‘I don’t think so. Seems like he’s passed out, so I guess I’ll let him sleep it off and see where we go from here when he wakes up.’

‘You should have given this more thought before actually doing it,’ the familiar chided me. She wasn’t wrong, but …

‘We’re kind of pressed for time,’ I said.

‘Would a day or two have mattered?’ she argued, obviously forgetting I was a vile Tentacle Horror who could make a meal out of her with a flick of a tentacle. Brave little spirit, wasn’t she? Her progress was undeniable.

‘Maybe, maybe not.’ I said, trying to shrug, which resulted in a couple of my danger-noodles undulating in a strange manner. ‘It is what it is, and I’ll just have to deal with it.’

Tilry sighed.

‘Please make sure this won’t put us all in danger.’

‘I’ll do my best.’

***

The rest of the night passed with agonising slowness, mostly because I spent it guessing what could have happened to Hank, and worrying what he would do when he woke up. Morning arrived, and I watched Krissy get up and get ready for the day. With the rangers’ training exercise as well as the main strategy meeting done, we had some free time on our hands — or tentacles in my case — and since no-one wanted to stay at the rangers’ compound, we decided to spend the day in Sek Artem.