To Splinter A Soul

Chapter 18- Help

Sunday, 8th November 1992

"Follow her," Ash whispered when the girl had run past them.

Darnon sniffed at the air and then held out his hand.

"Half now, half later," Ash said firmly.

Ash occasionally used Darnon for menial tasks that required little skill or intellect. The problem was, he was no longer in a position to be picky, especially since Lucifer had done as he'd threatened and virtually black-listed him. Even Strickeon wasn't answering Ash's calls.

The little, hunched creature gave a whine, when he saw the small, pulsing orb form in Ash's hand, eyes wide, saliva dribbled down his chin.

Careful not to include any of Becca's energy in the soul sphere, Ash thrust it towards Darnon, hitting him, squarely in the chest. In a typical response, the creature's eyes rolled into the back of his head as an expression of bliss softened his features, giving a hint of the man that once existed.

"Well, go on, what are you waiting for?"

What Darnon lacked in brainpower, he more than made up for in speed and agility. His legs crouched slightly and then sprung forward, launching himself into the night. Using all four limbs, he ran like a graceless ape and soon disappeared from sight.

Ash waited in the shadows of a large oak opposite the entrance to the churchyard. Earlier, he'd tried entering the church grounds as he had on previous occasions, eager to hear what the vicar and the girl were talking. Anticipating the usual level of prickly discomfort from hallowed ground, he certainly hadn't expected to be thrown backwards, landing heavily on the kerb, with his skin feeling as if it was being flayed by a thousand tiny knives. The protection wards had been increased, which meant only one thing.

One by one the lights in the church were switched off and the front door creaked open. The vicar left the old building, locking it up behind him, and made his way down the path. As he exited the old wooden gate passing under two yew trees that had grown together in a natural arch, he turned up his coat collar against the wind.

The vicar jumped back, spinning around, trying to locate the source of the voice. Ash stepped from the shadows under the orange glow of a nearby streetlamp.

The vicar took a sharp intake of breath.

"Time hasn't been kind to you, has it, John?" Ash said with a smirk. "Although I'm glad to see you've stopped wearing that dreadful, brown hooded-gown. You've also started wearing glasses too, I see. What are you, the Clark Kent of the Custos? Vicar by day, super soul saver at night!" Ash chuckled, pleased with his own joke. The Custos weren't known for their sense of humour. Always too bloody earnest.

"What do you want, demon?"

"I need your help."

The vicar, John, laughed, "I told her what you did, Ashmadalak. She knows exactly what you are and what you are capable of."

Ash's face remained unmoved.

"I also told her what you did to Nadine, what you drove her to."

The earth trembled a little below their feet, a sign that Ash was struggling to contain himself. The slight smirk on John's face disappeared.

"Don't push too far, Custos. You and I both know that I was not entirely to blame."

The vicar shivered, pulling his coat collar tighter. "I'm in a hurry, so you'd better spit it out." The vicar looked down the road where Becca had recently run.