The Samhain Files

PROLOGUE - TWENTY-FIVE YEARS PRIOR

It would turn out to be the greatest story of all time, Bes pondered to himself while walking down the last stretch of street, if a teenager from the forgotten part of the city worked his way up instead of taking free handouts like everybody else did. Even though the city claimed to be rich, he had never seen any of the money trickle down to his family.

"Hey, Bes!" his friend Dylan shouted when he passed through the front doors of the Soul Reassignment Center, jumping up and down beside the elevator door. "We get to work in the main room today!"

"That's great!" He felt his smile widen as he clutched the empty glass test tube in his pocket. Dylan was always an energetic and enthusiastic friend, one of the few who had bothered to pay any attention to him in school. Even though it was out for the summer, his peers were more concerned with enjoying the interim between the feverish end of the year and the hell that would be eleventh grade. "Are you taking the center console, or am I?"

"You can take it. I always liked the tubes, anyways."

Dylan shrugged as the doors opened. He gripped Bes' hand and dragged his friend into the elevator with him. Both of their stomachs jumped for the brief moment that the car was descending and resettled when the doors opened.

"Maybe they'll give us a pay raise, at least."

"Yeah..."

Bes' eyes drifted off as Dylan directed him to the sorting room, where hundreds upon hundreds of plastic tubes lined the ceiling. The processing part of the facility was kept underground since it was believed by those higher up in the chain of command that the souls, milky white and floating inside of the tubes, would relax more if surrounded by stone. They'd expected to be surrounded by a coffin, anyways.

"Bes, you okay?"

"Wha-"

Bes shook his head. Dylan had led him to the front of the spacious center console. A spacious keyboard extended in front of him, and lots of little dials with complicated statistics littered the screen. Ten thin spigots stuck out of the side of the console, awaiting Bes' command.

"Yeah, I'm okay."

"Good luck! Hope you remember your training!" Dylan disappeared behind a wall with several thick tubes mounted to it.

Yeah, I sure hope that I do...

Bes glanced over the controls before slipping the test tube out of his pocket. Freshly cleaned at home before leaving, he'd palmed it from his chemistry class on the last day of school. He removed the rubber cork and held the tube tight under the closest spigot.

Dylan appeared suddenly from behind a rack on the other side of the room. His eyebrows were furrowed.

"Yo, Bes! What are you doing?"

For the Skribrulajxo...

Bes strained his head for a moment, remembering the ten-character password that the training a few weeks ago had taught him. With his free hand, he tapped out the code into the keyboard, wincing when the console dinged- a ding that could have shaken the whole room from how much Bes' fingers were shaking. They held tight against the spigot, however, as he requested the souls of the five people whose names he'd committed to memory.

They're always so faceless, so anonymous. If I didn't have the console detailing their lives and memories in need of cleaning, I'd have no idea who exactly I will soon hold in my hand.

"Bes?" Dylan squinted, still halfway behind the rack. "What are you doing?"

"Quality testing."

The spigot roared to life for a full five seconds, just enough for each of the souls to flow in before the spigot shut off. The center console shut down, and the screen glowed red, a red that soon spread to the lights glaring from above.

"Bes? What did you do?" Dylan stared up at the ceiling, his mouth gaping. "I can't afford to lose my job! I don't want to end up in the trashy side of town!"

Bes' spine tingled in one sweeping shiver as he called the tube and nestled it securely in his pocket. Later that night, he planned to imbue the substance with the tracker that he'd devised at home and sneak it into the Earthbound shipment.

A toothy grin crept up on his face as the sound of the guards stomping on their way downstairs approached.

If this works, Dylan, you won't have to go back there. You'll never have to ever again.