Sinister: A Paranormal Fantasy (Sinisters Book 1) (19 page)

"Nothing." He sounded surprised.

"You seem so..." He let his mouth hang open, mimicking Oliver's vapid look.

"I'm fine." The redhead nodded toward Caracalla. “You should go with him. See if he’s telling the truth."

"Oh...kay." Matt let the word stretch out, his eyes still on his friend, but the Brit's agreement had decided him. He would go with Caracalla. He needed the truth if he was going to do the right thing.

He stood, and Caracalla placed a hand on his shoulder. Warmth seeped through his windbreaker, heating his shoulder.

"Just hold on," Caracalla said. The fire started spreading from the man's hand, down through Matt's body. Oliver stared, a strange smile playing across his face. The sounds from the hallway got louder, approaching the office. Matt stiffened as he recognized Anna's voice. He opened his mouth, twisting to face the man at his side. He wanted to tell him to wait, but the heat swept into his lungs, cutting off his voice. He started to cough, and the wind whirled higher. Caracalla's fingers dug in almost painfully, holding him in place as the fire swirled.

The noise stopped. Fresh air filled his lungs, and the tightness around his chest eased. Silence swept in to fill the cracks, reverberating in his ears. He opened his eyes.

He and Caracalla stood on the lip of a massive cavern. It glowed as though lit from the bottom with a red lamp, the light amplified by the tens of thousands of crystals embedded in the stone walls. Recesses dotted the walls at irregular intervals, spirally down into the red and up until they were no longer visible. He squinted, trying to see into them. They reminded him of the entrance to a cave he'd spotted one day while hiking in the Kettle Moraine forest. Just as then, he was able to discern little beyond the first few feet, but his feet itched to explore the areas. He suddenly realized he must be standing in one of the openings and looked around. Sure enough, they were surrounded by rough-hewn stone, though the floor had been planed and sanded until it was nearly glass smooth. He looked over his shoulder, but all he could see was black so thick he was sure he'd get stuck if he tried to walk through it. He sniffed, and his nose was filled with the now-familiar scent of sulfur.

"What is this place?" he finally asked, too awed to ask about anything else.

"The center of hell. See those paths?" Caracalla gestured to the recesses Matt had noticed. "Each one leads to a different part of the realm. I haven't had a chance to explore them all, but each holds its own unique secrets." From the way he spoke the words, it was clear he was intimately familiar with at least a few of these secrets.

"But..." Something was bothering him, but he couldn't put a finger on what he wanted to ask. It had to do with the way Caracalla answered him: with just enough detail to entice, but not enough to convey any real information. It was the same way Luke talked. The way that had convinced Matt Luke was hiding something.

"We don't have time to explore them all now, Matt, but I promise you, I'll show you them all at some time." He looked earnestly at the boy. "We can work together, you and I. I can show you how to fight evil, not like Luke claims, but really fight it. I can show you how to use those unusual powers of yours. No one else knows how, you realize. Not even—what mentor did Luke assign you to?"

"Uh—" Matt hesitated but couldn’t see a reason not to answer. “Elias."

Caracalla sneered. "Of course. Luke's little lapdog. It's perfect. Elias is as good as Luke at not answering questions, and he's so enthralled with his master that he wouldn't ever tell you what's really going on."

He stared at the man. Caracalla’s tone was sincere, and even the instincts Matt had been ignoring for sixteen years told him that he meant what he said. There was something just slightly off, though. "So what's your way of fighting evil?"

"It's—well, it would be better if I showed you." He snapped his fingers. Nothing happened. Caracalla chuckled slightly. "I forgot we weren't in my home. I was expecting Levi to come." He smiled self-deprecatingly, which Matt didn't return. "Really, though, it'll be easier here anyway."

Caracalla closed his eyes, his face smoothing into an expressionless mask. He started humming, the noise reverberating through the silence and shaking Matt's skull. He hadn't realized until that moment how strangely quiet hell was.

The humming continued, but other than that there was no sign that Caracalla was even awake. He stood perfectly still, his dress shirt unbuttoned at the neck and his sleeves rolled up. His slacks were sharply creased. Matt looked hopelessly at his own clothes, which were wrinkled and smelly from soccer practice. He'd never really cared about clothes, but he suddenly wanted to be the kind of person who looked that put together while standing in a cave.

The air around them thickened, and it felt as though everything had turned magnetic. It was as though his organs were trying to push through his skin, drawn by the force. He wrapped his arms around his waist, holding his stomach in place. A piece of the darkness behind him separated from the rest, gliding forward. Its shape was vaguely humanoid at first, but as it approached the two, its features sharpened, as though a film had been removed. By the time it reached the pair, it had coalesced into a wispy-haired man with wire-rim glasses. The only indication that there was something extraordinary about this man was his feet, which drifted were a good six inches above the ground. A chill went through Matt. He couldn't say how he knew, but he was certain that this was the same thing that had appeared when he and Anna had accidentally opened a portal to hell. An imprisoned soul.

The humming stopped. Caracalla opened his eyes and looked at the boy. "You see, Matt? I can control souls. They come when I call and do as I ask, and because of this, I can help so many people do the right thing."

The tugging in his stomach had turned into a knot. He pressed his arms tighter around his belly and said, "I don't understand."

Caracalla eyed him. "Don't you?" he asked softly. "I think you do. You have the same power, after all."

"Pretend I don't." He did have an idea, but he was truly hoping he was wrong.

He sighed. "Very well. You and I both know how horrible humans can be to each other. We shoot each other, steal from each other, and sometimes our destructive tendencies even turn against ourselves. Drugs, alcohol...all sorts of terrible things we do to our own bodies. Now imagine a world where people were less self-centered. Where politicians truly passed laws that would benefit their constituents, not themselves. Where people gave to their neighbors instead of taking from them. Where people cleaned up their towns and focused on making the world a better place rather than seeking instant gratification. It would be wonderful, wouldn't it?"

Caracalla stared at him, seeming to expect a response, so he nodded. He had to admit, it would be better if the world were like Caracalla described. The articles he read in political science sometimes made him wonder why people were so anxious to hurt each other.

"Now, look at this." He gestured to the soul hovering beside him. "He was one of those very people, eager to help himself to the detriment of others. He was repaid, but only after it was too late to make a difference in our world. The sad truth is, despite what the movies may tell you, bad people often don't get caught. They go on doing immoral things and being richly rewarded for it. It becomes tempting for others to imitate them when they see where crime can get you. It often isn't their fault, but they need to be stopped nonetheless. I'm stopping them."

"How?" Matt both dreaded and anticipated the answer.

Caracalla made a come-hither gesture with two fingers. "Bow."

At first, the boy thought he was speaking to him. He wrinkled his brow in confusion. Why would the man suddenly want him to bow? Then the form next to them bent in half, and it was clear what Caracalla had meant.

"It's a well-documented fact that souls can possess human beings. They can co-exist within a person, taking over only when necessary to stop them from doing something bad. I've summoned and sent out a group of souls to key people within Madison, ensuring they do the right thing when the time comes. I think the results speak for themselves. Look how smoothly our city has been running!"

He spread his arms wide, gesturing around him, before he appeared to realize they weren't anywhere near Madison.

Matt felt sick, though he wasn't exactly surprised by the demonstration, or Caracalla's words. The man's ability to control souls, his ties with the government…Matt had thought something like this was going to happen since the man summoned the soul. What he was surprised by was the instinctive horror that filled him at the thought. He had always thought he was fairly utilitarian, believing that the good of the masses outweighed the good of individuals. His upbringing seemed to have gotten the better of him, though. Between the value his Catholic parents put on every person and the American belief in freedom, he wanted to reject this man's version of fixing the world.

He took a calming breath and forced himself to think logically. The souls were presumably under Caracalla's control, so they couldn't do anything evil. The people who were possessed probably didn't even notice, and they were able to live their lives exactly as they wanted—unless they were going to hurt other people. In that case, Caracalla stepped in to make sure the right thing happened. Was that really so bad? Luke would probably say it was, since he'd waxed profound about free will, but Matt wasn't so sure. After all, there were laws in place that were supposed to stop people from doing things that hurt others, and no one questioned that. Who would want to live in a place that condoned murder? This was just going one step further, from telling people they couldn't do something to actually stopping them. If the government knew how to do that, he had no doubt they would. The government...something niggled the back of his mind. Something to do with Caracalla...

"You were talking to a senator when you came to my soccer practice! That's one of them, isn't it?"

"Clever boy, aren't you?" Caracalla narrowed his eyes. "As it happens, Ted Swanson is my connection to every government official. I don't even need to control him—I simply bought him. He’s one of us, you know. He will be useful as governor, and once I perfect my control...well, you see the genius of it. I help people live the life they were meant to live. If I could expand it to everyone, the world would be perfect. We could finally rid it of the evil that Luke has let lie for so long."

His ears caught on a word. "If?"

Caracalla let out a frustrated harrumph. "I'm only one person. I can't control everyone at all times. I need to sleep, and I try to plan for the major moments in the lives I watch over, but last-minute decisions come up too often for me to stop every bad choice. I need help." He brushed his hair to the side in an impatient gesture and said, "I need your help."

A
thunk
sounded. He spun toward it to see Luke and Anna, the latter staggering from their landing. The former had his eyes locked on the pair, cold fury raging across his face. Matt suddenly felt very, very small. His shoulders started to hunch instinctively, but he stiffened his back and glared back. He wouldn't be cowed by a look. The silence stretched between them, and each passing second he became more and more determined not to speak first.

"Matt! You're okay!" Anna threw her arms around him, her grip surprisingly strong considering how small she was. He couldn't help but revel in the feeling of her arms around him, although he was sure there were questions he should be asking. If only he could remember them...

"I was sure he would have done something by now," she said, with a significant look at Caracalla.

"Like try to save the world?" he found himself asking.

"He's not trying to save the world, he wants to destroy it!" Her voice rose in pitch, and she cast a wary look at the man. He stood with his arms crossed, a slight smile playing on his lips.

"Is that so?" he asked. He let his arms fall and strode forward.

"Enough with the games, Peter." Luke's voice cut through the room. He sounded exhausted, but he managed to be commanding as well. "There is no battle between us. We want the same things, do we not? We can work together."

Caracalla looked angry enough to spit. "You aren't trying to stop evil! You are evil!"

Luke remained impassive. "I am not," he said with the tone of one talking to a child. "Tell me what you wish to accomplish and we can achieve it.”

“Just like you helped me save my brother?” Caracalla asked, his tone frosty. “Giacomo wasn’t a bad person, he was just misguided. But you wouldn’t help him. No, you had to tell your little slaves what my brother was doing, and look at him now! Locked up in prison for life.”

The sick feeling in Matt’s stomach increased until he could feel the acid bubbling in his throat. Caracalla’s story about the man who’d shot the police officer suddenly made a lot more sense. No wonder he hated Luke. If his own brother had gone down an evil path and Luke hadn’t sent sinisters to save him… Matt tried to imagine how he’d feel if Alice or Carrie got involved in crime. After the help he’d given Luke saving others, he’d want the devil’s help in return with them. If Luke refused…well, he wasn’t surprised at the animosity between the two men now.

Luke’s voice was soft when he spoke again. “I could not help him, Peter. I truly wish I could have.”

Matt's eyes bounced back and forth between the two, all of the stories they'd told him swirling in his mind. There was no way of knowing who told the truth through logic. He was going to have to choose a side, and all he had was his gut to tell him what to do.