The Bright Eyes (The Soulless Ones Book 1) Read online

  A chuper and a luper zipped towards him from opposite sides and in a heartbeat, another pair dashed for him, one from the front, and another from the back. The second pair, thinking the stranger would leap to avoid the ground assault from the first pair, had leaped in the air. That was a fatal mistake. The stranger zipped diagonally to his right instead, turned on his right toes and leaped in the air in another zip. He sliced into the air with both hands, and two heads rolled. Both bodies turned to ash as they hit the ground. He landed on the ground and repeated the same attack on the ground, slicing off the heads of the attackers from the sides, who had crashed into each other and were disorientated for a split second. Two headless Bright Eyes hit the ground and turned to ash. The entire sequence had lasted about two heartbeats. Four down, forty-four more to go!

  Sasha gave another howl, and Bright Eyes emerged from every direction as she, herself, morphed into a luper. He zipped, he twisted, he turned, he shifted and he sliced. Heads rolled, and bodies turned to ash as they hit the ground. Twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, he counted. He was faster than the Bright Eyes were, since their last encounter. His superior speed confused the Bright Eyes, and their confusion was music to his ego. Seven Bright Eyes chased him as he leaped for the trees. Gravity seemed to have nothing on them. And seven Bright Eyes realized their foolish mistake too late.

  He landed on the first tree, bending his knees and turning around in a horizontal position to face his attackers. He transferred the potential energy in his bent knees to kinetic energy as he sprang towards the creatures. He decapitated the first six in three choreographed movements and plunged both daggers right through the heart of the seventh. The momentum of his body brought the creature to the ground, but not before he rendered the creature headless. He continued into a forward roll and lunged towards the rest of his attackers. A few seconds later, there was only one chuper and Sasha left standing. The chuper was in excruciating pain from his amputated legs. He dragged himself to the base of a tree. The stranger made his daggers vanish as he loomed over the chuper.

  “What ARE you?!” the chuper asked in between gasps of pain. “Who ARE you?!”

  Sasha returned to her human form and walked past the stranger and towards the chuper. He could not help but notice how beautiful she looked in the moonlight. But then again, she always looked beautiful ever since they had met each other more than half a millennium ago. She knelt close to the chuper, and in that moment, the chuper understood what was really going on.

  “No! How dare you! You bitch! You damn dog!” he screamed and spat in her face.

  Sasha casually shifted her position with zip speed, and the chuper’s spittle flew past her.

  “What he is, is not important!” she replied

  “Then who is he?” the chuper glared at her.

  “His name is Yehuda,” she replied and towered over the chuper. “But you can also call him Judas Iscariot.”

  And then, she slapped off the chuper’s head… literally!

  CHAPTER SIX: 1922 C.E.

  Günter’s story was not unlike those of this his peers at the time. Orphaned from the war and serving as an altar boy, he made the headlines one day in his small village south of Stuttgart when he beat up his parish priest to near-death after the priest tried to molest him sexually. The village was largely in support of young Günter. The judge, however, had a different definition for justice. After all, his secret life involved sharing the priest’s taste in young boys. Birds of the same feather! After a sham of a trial, the judge ruled in the priest’s favor. Günter was sentenced to a decade in prison for attempted murder.

  Günter’s knack for survival quickly caught the attention of a gang leader named Tomas, who took young Günter under his stewardship. Without any family or friends, Tomas and his gang became Günter’s family. Three years later, Günter was told he had a visitor, a priest. Günter refused to meet with this priest, but, on second thought, he changed his mind. No need to pass up an opportunity to get even with a man of the cloth; ANY man of the cloth! So, he agreed to meet with this priest. When he walked into the visitor’s room, it was not just the priest’s stature than caught Günter’s attention. It was also the priest’s eyes. This was certainly no ordinary priest. Even the guards seemed to cower as the priest dismissed them.

  “Hello Herr Günter,” said the priest warmly, gesturing at an empty seat in front of him. “How are you doing today?”

  “Hello, priest,” Günter sneered.

  “Your disdain for the clergy is understandable,” said the priest with a slight nod.

  “You don’t say,” Günter rolled his eyes. “So, to what do I owe this honor? I mean, a priest comes to visit me in prison. This calls for celebration,” he gestured mockingly around the room. “Someone get us some champagne!”

  “Would you like some champagne?” asked the priest.

  “Yes, I certainly would,” Günter snickered. “It will probably be piss in a bottle anyway, knowing these fools here.”

  “Well, Herr Günter, there is only one way to find out,” replied the priest

  He gestured with his right hand, without taking his eyes off Günter. A guard rushed into the room.

  “Bring Herr Günter a bottle of your Steiff White,” he said without looking at the guard. “And some food as well.”

  The guard acknowledged and vanished from the room.

  “Ha,” Günter laughed derisively.

  “How about some crab meat and fried rice, with a few slices of lamb?” asked the priest confidently.

  Günter’s narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

  “Tell me, Herr Günter, do you like it here?” asked the priest, as he relaxed in his chair, ignoring Günter’s look of suspicion. “Do you enjoy the fights and having to watch over your shoulder all the time?”

  Günter opened his mouth to say something, but the priest cut him off.

  “I see you are a man who hates evil and will stand up to it, even if it is the last thing you do. I, actually WE, could use a man of your motivation and potential.”

  The door opened, and two guards came into the room; one bore a tray of the most deliciously smelling food Günter had ever seen, and the other carried a tray with a bottle of Steiff White and a shiny champagne glass. The guards laid out the culinary luxury in front of Günter, popped the champagne open, served a drink to Günter and quickly walked out of the room.

  “Eat your fill, Herr Günter,” prompted the priest.

  When Günter hesitated, the priest reached out and took a fork-full of crab meat and rice and ate it. He emptied the glass of champagne in three gulps and refilled the glass.

  “See,” he said and let out a burp before relaxing in his seat again. “There is nothing wrong with the food. Go on! Eat, mein herr!”

  A smile formed on the priest’s face. Günter made the culinary delight and half the champagne disappear into his gut as if by some magic trick.

  “Did you enjoy your food, Herr Günter?” he asked.

  “Trick question?” replied Günter, ignoring the napkin and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

  Günter smiled for the first time since their encounter as he fantasized about using the silverware in front of him on this priest. Patience! He said to himself.

  “I’m glad you enjoyed it,” he said and paused for a moment as if sizing Günter.

  When he spoke again, his tone was sterner.

  “Do you know why I’m here, young man?” he asked.

  Gone were the ‘Herr Günter’ and polite smile. Günter was now ‘young man,’ and there was no trace of humor on the priest’s face.

  “No, I don’t,” replied Günter, cowering slightly at the change in the priest’s tone.

  “I’ll make it simple,” continued the priest.

  He leaned forward, rested his elbows on the table and interlocked his fingers at the same time.

  “I want you to work for me!” he said.

  The shock on Günter’s face was priceless.

&
nbsp; “You want me to become a priest?” Günter shook his head as if he was in a bad dream.

  “Do you realize that I am here because of a damned priest?!” Günter exploded. “Because of what a damned priest tried to do to me? And where was the church when I was being burned at the stake, huh?!”

  The priest remained calm in the face of Günter’s sudden outburst and smiled.

  “You must be a very special wizard to have survived the Inquisition!” the priest said sarcastically. “I see you know your history. There may be some brains in that thick skull of yours after all. Not bad for a brute like you. Not bad at all,” the priest added with a smirk.

  Two things made Günter lose his sanity: attacks from behind and disrespect. This priest was guilty of the latter and needed to be taught a lesson. He made two mistakes before he lunged across the table at the priest. Firstly, he snarled before he attacked and secondly, he assumed his visitor was an ordinary priest. In a smooth, quick movement, the priest stood up and bladed himself, as if creating room for Günter to complete his trajectory. Günter crashed into the empty seat and tumbled on the concrete floor. He quickly got back on his feet, wincing more from his wounded ego than from his badly twisted left wrist and threw a straight, right hook at the priest’s nose.

  The priest swiftly stepped into Günter’s space with his face only inches away from Günter’s. In that split moment of distraction, he had grabbed Günter’s throbbing left hand with his right hand in one fluid motion, turned it in a very oblique angle, raised Günter left arm above his head, vacated the space and stepped towards Günter’s left as he yanked Günter’s hand in a sharp downward motion. Günter let out a shriek as a wave of pain and agony washed his body. He crashed on the ground on both knees, using his right hand for support. The priest let his grip loosen just enough to stop Günter from howling in pain but kept his grip strong enough to maintain Günter in that position of helplessness.

  “Now,” the priest asked calmly. “Are you ready to talk?”

  When Günter did not reply, the priest twisted again. Günter screamed in pain.

  “I have all the time in the world. So, I’ll ask again. Are you ready to talk?”

  “Yes,” Günter said through clenched teeth.

  “Good,” nodded the priest. “I’m going to let go of your hand, but you’ll have to give me your word that you won’t try anything stupid again. Do I have your word, young man?”

  “Yes,” answered Günter with resignation and shame.

  The priest then let go of Günter’s hand, and Günter’s body was grateful. The priest returned his chair to its original position and sat down. Günter did the same.

  “I am a man of the cloth,” the priest said, after giving Günter a moment to catch his breath and nurse his sore wrist. “But I am no ordinary man of the cloth. You will never find me at the altar but wherever certain unique services are required, I, and those like me, will be there.”

  He noticed, as expected, that there was a look of confusion on Günter’s face.

  “The organization I work for is known only to a handful of humans outside our organization. So, this is your recruitment. I want you to join us.”

  Günter was still confused and remained silent for a few seconds. Finally, he asked.

  “If I accept this offer, what’s in it for me?”

  “Read that,” said the priest, pointing a manila envelope on a table across the room.

  Günter noticed the envelop for the first time since their meeting. He walked up to the table, picked up the envelope and cracked the seal. He cautiously pulled out the contents, sparing a suspicious glance at the priest. He then walked back to sit across the table from the priest, flipping through the pages he removed from the envelope. After reading through the first two pages, his heart sank. The documents were from the court, regarding an altercation between Günter and an inmate a few months ago. The trial and sentencing had been scheduled ten months earlier than normal. And the presiding judge was yours truly!

  “Eight more years?” he spoke dismally and barely above a whisper. “But I’m supposed to be out in three months!”

  “You bludgeoned an inmate to near-death, and then you broke his spine, Günter,” the priest rebutted emotionlessly. “He is now wheelchair-bound for the rest of his life and all because he ‘disrespected you’ by calling you a ‘priest lover.’”

  “You and I both know,” the priest continued, leaning forward, “that your anger issues will keep you locked in here for much longer than eight more years. Join us, and in exchange, I offer you freedom from the confines of this!” he offered and waved his hands around the room. “But if you prefer this paradise, then I’m afraid I have wasted your time and mine.”

  “Who are you really, priest?” Günter asked weakly.

  He knew this priest was not bluffing.

  “The key to your freedom,” the priest replied, glancing at his watch. “Three seconds!”

  “I’ll come with you,” Günter replied immediately.

  “Good!” said the priest. “Training starts tomorrow.”

  The priest stood up and walked towards the coat hanger by the door. He reached for his black overcoat, slid it on and held open the metallic door that led out of the visitor’s room.

  “I don’t have all day now!” the priest said.

  It took a split moment before Günter realized what was going on and as soon as he did, he scrambled from the table and hurled himself towards the door. The priest chuckled and shut the door behind them.

  “If I’ll be working with you-”Günter started saying.

  “Who said anything about us working together?” teased the priest.

  Both men laughed.

  “Okay, if I am going to be working for your group, or order, or whatever you call it, may I at least know the name of my liberator?”

  “Andrew,” replied the priest, without looking at Günter, and smiled.

  CHAPTER SEVEN: COMPLETING THE CYCLE

  The Order of the Rock, or the O.R., was the most secretive and clandestine organization in Earth Realm. Based in Vatican City, but without any religious or political affiliations, their primary goal was to protect Earth Realm and humanity from all paranormal and supernatural attacks, from within and beyond Earth Realm. Only the pope and maybe two or three other high-ranking officials in the Vatican, as well as eight of the leaders of the world’s most powerful countries, knew of its existence. Even more secretive was the head of the O.R.

  Fr. Günter was now a Jesuit priest. Günter had passed all the tests with flying colors and was one of the less than 2% of recruits who passed the training that would make the average US navy seal beg for death instead of train. For the first time in a very long time, Günter was happy. He felt a deep sense of accomplishment and now had an even more profound sense of purpose. Sometimes, he regretted not having the opportunity to say goodbye to his friends in prison. He hoped they fared well, even though he knew better. Prison life in Germany was no paradise. They probably thought he had either been transferred to a maximum-security prison or even executed, given his latest theatrics with a fellow inmate. Anyway, Günter was basking in his newfound freedom.

  The ride in the black luxury vehicle with the tinted windows was forever inscribed into his memory. They had arrived at a remote location that looked like a military training ground. Günter was given clean clothes, ordered to clean up and then he had been assigned to his room. That was the last time he saw Fr. Andrew, and then he realized that the priest was not joking when he had said Günter will not be working with him. There were about a hundred other recruits in the facility. Günter later realized that the recruits all had a common denominator; a troubled past, and a shot at a second chance. Training sessions had involved stretching their bodies and psyches beyond natural limits. Those who could not handle the training at any stage were ‘reassigned’, and those who passed moved on.

  There were constant psychiatric evaluations and even simulations of past traumatic events to
force the recruits to rise above their worst fears. These were Günter’s worst nightmares. He preferred the grueling training in the harshest geographical locations on the realm than having to deal with the demons on his subconscious. A few recruits even perished, most of them failed. But Günter and a handful of others made it through and were sworn into the Order of Jesuits. They were now ready to fight evil and protect the church in the name of their Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

  His first missions were easy. He would be dispatched to remote corners of the realm to investigate claims of paranormal and supernatural sightings. After doing this for three years, he started receiving assignments to investigate parishes suspected for corruption and misappropriation of church funds. As a devout Catholic, these were very serious pet peeve of his, and he was adept in these missions. He even earned the title ‘The Cleaner’ among his peers. His reputation continued to grow rapidly within the Jesuit Order.

  Finally, it was time to make his first kill and not in self-defense. He was summoned to their headquarters in Germany and presented with his assignment in a sealed, yellow envelope. He picked up the envelope from the table, opened it and took out its contents. It was a single picture of a man he knew quite well and still hated; Fr. Heinrich, the priest who tried to molest him sexually many years ago. It so happened that, Fr. Heinrich had ignored warnings from the Vatican to end his indiscretions, and the reputation of the church in that area was at mud status. It was time to facilitate Fr. Heinrich’s fatality.

  “Are you sure you are up for this?” asked his supervisor.

  “Yes, sir!” replied Günter confidently. “I can do it!”

  “You have seventy-two hours!” said the supervisor.