Soul's Decay : Chapter Eight

Chapter Seven

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Dominic saw Mason enter the forest with a very slight limp, felt Abel’s raw, powerful scent -just fading away- on him, yet didn’t say anything. He merely nodded with a light frown when he saw that Mason’s forearms were broken. Mason winced at it, and asked him to set it back into its place.

Dominic did.

After the last remains of Mason’s sharp, pained hiss escaped his ears, he bounded back into the forest to settle down on a thick branch, lean back and close his eyes. He waited with patience that was built up over time. He himself didn’t know what, exactly, he was waiting for so desperately, yet so tensely at the same time. It was ancient and threatening, a looming shadow in the future. He could sense it so well that it frustrated him greatly. But he waited, because he knew that it was, despite that, important.

Mason sat down right under the tree Dominic was perched upon, because he knew that the elder fox was waiting. He rubbed at his forearms and stared off into the sky at a flock of birds, arranged in a V shape. They seemed like a family, their wings flapping up and down in a strange pattern, senses sharp, looking out for the ones behind them. “…families are bound with blood. When everybody else leaves, they’ll be there.” The forearms Abel had broken ached painfully.

Mason’s patience was thinner and ran shorter. He was older than most, but he was still younger than some. Even if he didn’t act like it, Dominic was wiser than him by far. He almost always had a reason for doing something and they were almost always unselfish.

They waited.

The sun didn’t set for a long time, and the day was spent doing practically nothing. Mason greeted the many-tailed foxes who had heard the news and came to the old hideout, and bowed to those who were older than him. They were scared, and some were young and didn’t know “what the hell is going on.” Mason couldn’t bring himself to explain anything. They were still so small and inexperienced, and none of them actually knew what ‘The Hunters’ was about. He couldn’t make them fear their common enemy more than they needed to.

“They are hunters, quite literally,” Mason told three foxes who couldn’t even turn into their humanoid forms yet, unsure if they understood him at all. “The Hunters hunt down our kin and slaughter them. Our conflict with them goes back centuries, for they knew our biggest weaknesses for a long time, practically since the beginning of our race. We’re foxes. It is only in our nature that we fear hunters and hunting dogs. A thousand years ago, they simply disappeared. They didn’t appear to hunt us. No signs of them could be found.” And I still wonder why. “A several days before, they appeared. We are now very… cautious. Nobody would take the risk of the Last Bloodshed again. Everybody lost just enough for us to become more humble. Know what we can and can’t fight. Of course, we can take on the mortals, but we will always try and save blood from spilling.”

Mason looked at the three young foxes and saw only incomprehension in their eyes, but they nodded eagerly anyway. He sighed, but it wasn’t like he could do anything about it. They were still naive, just like a plain old fox, which they were. The single-tailed foxes were very intelligent, yes - but they would have to start working on understanding human language better.

Apparently, someone else had thought the same thing.

“Oh, stop wasting his time.” A bored voice drawled, and a hand pushed Mason out of the way roughly. He grunted, catching himself just before he landed on his side, and glared up at the female that now stood over him.

In the forest, where, hopefully, only many-tailed foxes were staying in, the woman’s nine tails were proudly spread out for the world to see, sparkling oddly in the sunlight like nine blue gemstones. The sight, again, took his breath away for a moment.

“Kaori. Rude as ever, I see.” Mason growled at her, snapping out of whatever he had been swimming in for a split second.

She turned to face him, actually showing all of her features to the other fox. The face was different, but the eyes were exactly the same in every form she took. They always remained the silky gray, dark but bright at the same time. Mason inhaled sharply, his eyes skimming over the sharp bridge of her nose, a smooth, round forehead, coming to a stop at the light gray eyes, catching the light and seeming like they were silver, but not as vivid and harsh as Abel’s, just soft and dark enough - Ah, what the hell am I thinking. She already has a mate. Dominic will skin me alive if I land a long gaze on her. The many-tailed foxes never took another’s mate. Never.

The nine-tailed fox grinned at him teasingly. She does that to everyone, the old witch likes to play. Mason reminded himself, now relatively calm.

“Ah, no, Nick. I’m now Jiaying.” Jiaying, apparently, announced smugly. Mason had to wonder if she liked changing names, saw it as a special offer or something.

“Jiaying? Moved onto China?” Mason retorted wryly, trying not to stare at her tails, and scratched the base of his neck absently. “That’s a mouthful. I’ll just call you Jia.”

“Jia?” Jia snarled at him.

“Would you then prefer Ying?”

Jia glared at him angrily, her tails swishing through the air in a slow motion. One came to curl around her neck lightly, and she stroked it, taking a deep breath. “Fine. Jia. So, Nick,”

“Mason now.” Mason replied, slightly enjoying the game the two always played. “Whatever. Did you get the news?”

Mason frowned at her. Her face was suddenly far more serious. She wasn’t joking around anymore. “What news?” He asked carefully, and Jia’s eyes softened in an emotion that seemed to be concern. “You really don’t know?” She whispered.

Blinking, Mason shook away the feeling that whatever was going to come out of her mouth next, he wouldn’t like it a bit. “What news?” He asked again. Jia winced, and hesitated.

“Tom’s dead, Mason. The Hunters got him first. I saw it on the news and went there, a small cafe in Canada, and smelt you, so I thought that you should…”

Trailing off, she spun around and walked away. “I said it!” She tossed over her shoulder hastily, her voice on the verge of shaking. She, too, had favored Tom. His blueish fur had always got her attention. It had made her protective of him, the reason unknown to anyone. Not even Dominic.

Mason stared after Jia, his mouth drying quickly. I was there. I was in there, with Tom, and I let him die. Suddenly, he felt sick, and he leaned against the nearest tree. A passing fox gave him a worried look, but left him alone when Mason snarled, pulling his upper lip back to expose his fangs.

Suddenly exhausted, Mason watched the fox leave in silence.

Tom. He had taught the young fox how to hunt. He had been there when the Hunters, at the Last Bloodshed, murdered Tom’s mother right in front of their eyes. He had been there to teach him how to handle his powers properly. He told him how their world worked. How the five-tailed fox had been so excited with each new information that the useless teacher taught to him.

Mason’s claws dug into the rough tree bark, the tree itself splintering. The broken bones in his forearms started to throb painfully again.

The anger that sparked in his mind was so sudden, he had to take a good amount of time to calm it down. He finally gave up when it started to burn even brighter.

It was anger at Abel, for doing whatever he wanted at everyone, for not accepting any help. It was directed at Dominic. For interfering, for being so unfair, for not seeing any reason. But the biggest one was at himself. For messing everything up. For failing Tom. For being so weak and immature. For being what he was.

The deep, high-pitched yowl that only many-tailed foxes could make and recognize shook the forest with its grief and anger. Mason didn’t stop, letting his body shift back to its original form of a silver, eight-tailed fox, and when he finally stood on four feet, the cry only deepened and became louder in volume. Mason grieved with the cry. He painfully wished that the unearthly sounds could reach into hell…

Other foxes shied away, and Jia stood rigid like a statue, her eyes swirling with unreadable emotions.She looked down, and ran deeper into the forest in attempt to block out the long wail, shaking her head as if in denial.

Dominic woke up with an inner, startled gasp, and listened to the long, sad song. Mason. Burying his face in his hands with frustration, he sighed into them.

Raising his head, he joined in with a long, drawn-out cry of his own.

☪

The fox’s corpse was quickly taken away.

Every news channels had broadcasted the discovery of the peculiar body, and the internet was booming with the new subject to discuss about. For a short moment, everything was about the dead five tailed fox that was found in a cafe.

Teenagers thought that it was clever. Interesting. Then they closed the tab. Adults took a look at the newspaper’s article and thought of it as immature. They set it aside on the table and took another sip of their morning coffee. Scientists poked and prodded at the fox. Genetic mutation? they wondered, or a clever, advanced form of prank?

Nobody could find out anything. They all soon moved onto more productive things. New types of dangerous parasites. Possible cure for cancer. Cure for diseases. A new rocky substance discovered from a dying volcano, ooh.

The body was burnt and disposed of fairly quickly the next day.

Abel watched the body burn in a ‘hidden, secret’ place that, apparently, only high-level mortal agents knew about, tilted his head forward slightly in last show of grudging respect, and left without another glance.

It was not a good day for a fire to burn. It was raining like the angels themselves were crying non-stop- a cold, freezing rain with each droplets of water leaving a tiny sting.

Abel felt alone. He was always alone, but he felt especially lonely in the dark street, the sun covered by the gray, churning clouds. Maybe, he thought bitterly, I should have stayed with Mason. I shouldn’t have done what I did.

A raindrop landed on his eye, and he blinked furiously, trying to stop the tears from escaping. It’s because of the stupid rain. In response, the clouds laughed at him and the winds slapped his hair to his face in mockery.

Looking up, Abel screamed in misery abruptly. He didn’t know why, but he knew that he had to let it out. He screamed again, and let out a dry weep, slumping against a crumbling wall. His wound hurt. He would have to have it treated… by what? Himself?

Confused. Yes, he was confused. It had only been a couple days since the Hunters seemingly returned, and now, he couldn’t sense any other foxes on the continent other than him. They had all left without him.

He couldn’t help but think that the Last Bloodshed wouldn’t be the last anymore. The animalistic instinct came over him and pushed him to go to somewhere safe. Another bloodshed was coming. Even if the foxes were more powerful, the Hunters would just push on with their numbers…

He jerked harshly from the dark whispers, noting the way his breath was now labored. Another bloodshed was not coming. It is, something whispered cruelly. Believe me, it is.

The man clad in nothing but a dirty rag shifted on the torn newspaper he had gotten for himself as a blast of cold wind whipped around him. Abel watched him, perched like a bird above a tree, orange and red leaves shielding him from sight.

Humans always tried to survive. If they didn’t have a home -just like that man- they would pick up a dirty fabric and wear it. They would dig through trash and get what they could for even a tiny amount of warmth and comfort. If a rock trapped their arm, they would cut it off and scream for help. If there was no food and they were stranded, they would eat the corpses of their own kin around them.

Humans would do anything to survive.

Abel dropped down from the tree, landing in a puddle of muddy water, and sprinted away before the pauper could see him. The slightly unfitting clothes he wore were now damp with rain and mud, and they were becoming heavier with water.

He could just run, he knew - he could just run and run until the Hunters caught him and he had a good fight in his hands. Or maybe he would just be hunted down.

What would happen if I die, anyway? he mused to himself sardonically. Dominic wouldn’t even raise a disbelieving eyebrow, Abel knew. Perhaps he would even go out of his way to cut his body into tiny pieces and throw it into an active volcano.

Abel didn’t have a very good history with the bastard and didn’t want anything to do with him.

Kaori would be sad, maybe. Maybe not. She wouldn’t want to anger her mate. Alex, if she was still alive, would silently close his eyes and leave. She was always the kind. Li hadn’t associated with Abel for centuries, and even if he did find a corpse of a dead, gold fox, Abel doubted that he would even care. He was always a friend Dominic’s, not Abel.

It was a short list.

Somehow, another name found its way into it. Mason, he thought, what about him? He thought about it but discovered that he didn’t know what Mason would do. He might be sad. Or everything he did could be fake and the boy might do the same thing as Dominic.

Mason was strange. He could be hiding a blade behind his back for all he knew, but somehow, he wanted to believe that Mason could be trusted. After all, he did have have a debt to repay to him, anyway - or so Abel told himself.

The fact that Mason didn’t even know that he had something to pull out of Abel bothered him greatly. Mason didn’t know how Dominic, Alex and himself were tied to his past at all. Well, thus the reason that none of the three chatted about the matter.

“Take care of him! Carl, please take care of him!”

It echoed around in his mind, even after many years had passed, and he winced through his nose. No wonder Dominic hates me now… his conscience whimpered. For the first time in a long while, Abel agreed with it.

Raindrops thickened and on contact, stung longer. The sky was now completely gray and almost resembled night rather than afternoon. Combined rage of wind and rain whipped his hair into his eyes mercilessly. Around him, leaves sailed through the air, windows and shop doors slammed shut, and mothers called their children into their homes. One ran across the deserted street with a pathetic attempt of a wooden sword, about to run right past Abel but skidded into a stop. He took a look at the tall teenager, making Abel snarl lightly. The child screamed, dropped his sword and ran into a woman’s embrace.

A storm was coming and he knew. A great, gigantic storm that would throw around trees like toothpicks was coming. The forest would be safe. The hideout was far away, and the trees were rooted deep and ancient. He wouldn’t be safe, no, not without nowhere to wait out the terrible storm sure to overpower him. He was lost. He almost wanted Mason to appear so he could go to the stupid hiding place or wherever.

Vicious winds, round after round, blew across the street, definitely harsher than before. Abel’s skin felt like it was peeling off and his eyes stung as he tried and failed to walk against the howling winds. “Never battle the nature,” his mother had said many times, as if a human mother would talk to their children about fake monsters, “it is merely letting us live in it and can erase you with a single swipe. Run when it hits.” His young, simpleton self would shiver and whimper, “But I’m scared, mother.” when, then, his mother would slap him hard and growl to never be afraid, baring her fangs. What am I supposed to do, he often used to wonder, if you tell me to fear something and then beat me for fearing it?

“A god, you must become one - a god. A god is not afraid of anything.”

He definitely wasn't going to become one if a mother always spoke truth.

☪

Amaia quickly adjusted her dagger and took a silent, deep breath. Her mentor fingered his bow right next to her and eyed the monster right around the corner of the building they were using as a temporary hideout. Four other Hunters stood with their weapons ready in front of Amaia for they were the experts in the field, more experienced and skilled. She would be merely blocking their way if she was out in front.

Rain dribbled down her body, soaking her black clothes, and the wind made her shiver in longing for warmth. There was a huge storm approaching from the south and even the Hunters wished to return to their houses. They couldn’t, not with the big plan in the play.

The raindrops smashed into the ground, sounding like drops of hard iron and not water.

She mused over the appearance of the monster she had seen. He had looked like an angel with gold hair and pale skin, all damp with rain, even if she only saw the back of his body. It nearly seemed impossible that he was a powerful monster that ate human organs just for another tail.

But one of them had slaughtered her entire family and she knew that they were what they desperately tried to hide. She knew, she saw, she heard.

A curse nearly escaped her lips when her breath seemed too loud and she readjusted her grip for the millionth time on the leather hilt of her dagger. The wind was not going to shield any sound from the monsters or so she heard countless times.

Kace, the man in front of everybody who had a slight slouch yet a very young twinkle in his eyes -considering that he was nearing his fiftieth birthday- raised a hand, folded his index finger and made a tiny circle with his thumb. Amaia briefly prided herself on managing to recognize the signal in a heartbeat and raised her dagger, ready to kill. Griffin, her mentor who was just three years older than her, gave her a tiny smile with his bleached eyes that seemed to swirl with a fierce snowstorm and loaded his bow. The world held its breath for a long time.

Then Kace burst forward with his hand throwing a narrow dagger that was coated with cow blood, the liquid straight from the pouch that hung on his belt, and already had another in the same hand. As Amaia charged with determination in her short strides, she listened for the familiar sound of metal embedding itself into flesh but it never came. Griffin didn’t release his arrow and listened along with her. Amaia heard the thrown dagger clatter onto the ground far away.

Amaia’s heart skipped a beat when the monster dropped out of the sky with a nearly inaudible snarl and slashed at Kace with his long, sharp claws. Kace jumped back and threw his dagger again, but it never found its target that was suddenly gone again. Amaia noted the fact that the monster’s shirt was soaked with blood, therefore indicating the existence of a wound. She would find it and hit it.

Hissing something under his breath, Kace drew his old friend, a silver katana, and stood rigid like a statue, only his eyes darting from here to there with suppressed urgency. The Hunters followed suit with their own weapons and waited.

The monster appeared right in front of Amaia and sneered, his eyes emitting a silvery glow and angry. His elongated fangs were clenched in his mouth before they snapped open, threatening to rip out her throat. Amaia nearly screamed as she dropped like a rock and barely escaped the bite. Her heart was beating against her ribcage harshly and she remembered that she had a dagger in her hands that she could slash with. She yelled in desperation and attacked savagely with her dagger, landing a tiny cut on the monster’s face. The cut was so small that there was no blood.

The monster smirked, his silver eyes glowering down at her, then turned to attack another Hunter. She sat there, stunned. Had she been ignored as an opponent? So small and useless that she was of no harm?

Amaia gritted her teeth and shot up to her feet, fire in her eyes. She would show him that she was a fair match, an opponent who should never be ignored. Injury, where is that wound?

“Kace! The shirt! Get rid of the shirt!” She screamed. She couldn’t do it alone. The elder man gave her an incredulous look while the monster scaled the nearest building like there were handles on the smooth surface and disappeared from sight. “The shirt?” he repeated. “Amaia, this is not the time.”

“Please, just- I have an idea, so please.” Amaia begged the Hunter, making him sigh. A raindrop fell in his eye and he blinked rapidly.

As if it had been waiting for it, just a tiny blink - the monster dropped onto the ground right in front of him, and Kace leaped without any sign of surprise on his face with his katana at ready. The monster didn’t run but regarded the man, amused. Kace slashed.

“Missed, old man!” The monster cackled when there was no blood, shocking Amaia by the smooth, rich and silky tone of his voice. She never imagined that a monster would sound that way. Also, hadn’t her fellow Hunters told her that the foxes couldn’t talk, and communicated with their minds instead? Obviously, they could talk in their human forms. It was a new piece of information.

Kace merely grinned, and watched the lower half of the monster’s shirt, soaked with rain, mud and blood, fall off and land on the muddy ground with a plop. Amaia saw it - a short and thick, red line with dried blood around it, still oozing the red liquid. The skin around the stab wound was an angry red.

Without hesitation, she rushed forward and attempted to drive the dagger into the stab wound again. The monster snarled angrily and swatted her back. She smashed into a house and slid down onto the ground, gasping with pain. Some bones seemed to have broken from the sheer force of the blow. That was… stupid…

Griffin yelled her name and let loose an arrow which the monster dodged with ease. Nine tails flared to life behind him as he took on a more animalistic form in a blink. He suddenly had more longer claws and furs on his body. Nine, Amaia thought in daze, shit, nine. Her first fox was a nine-tailed one and she knew that she had a fat chance of getting out of the hunt alive.

If she was going to die, she would make it so that it wasn’t worthless.

Despite it, she stumbled onto her feet again with a groan, crouched and grabbed her dagger. Turning, she ran up to the circle of Hunters -one formed around the monster hastily- and joined them, ignoring the dull ache in her back. Her hand that held the dagger was becoming white.

A stern-faced Griffin pulled out an arrow from his quiver and aimed it at the monster. Kace brandished his katana and scowled at him, making him scowl back.

“Hunters,” the monster warned in a low voice, “This is not the time. Back off.” Kace snorted. “Or what?” The monster didn’t move his unnerving gaze from Kace. “Or you die.” With his final warning spoken, the monster ran forward and simply ripped out a Hunter’s throat with his claws. Blood splattered on the Hunters’ faces that was quickly washed away by the rain.

Amaia shrieked and took an involuntary step back. Griffin released his arrow that had been ready ever since his bowstring started to quiver in fear and Kace, with a fierce battle cry, sent a flurry of assaults at the monster, being the closest to him.

The monster snatched the arrow out of the air and flicked it away from him, where it was soon swallowed up by the winds and the approaching storm. Kace landed a blow and left a deep gash that spurted blood, right next to the stab wound the monster already had. “I’ll not miss next time,” he warned, flinging the blood off of his sword, slashing the air in a wide arc.

A blast of wind sent Amaia's damp, dirty-blond hair flying into her face, and she cursed, remembering the reason she had it tied at all times. She didn’t today and it was quite possibly going to get her killed. The hair was snatched out of her face by a pair of hands, and Amaia found Logan, a Hunter that was about the same age as her, peering into her face worriedly.

“You should have tied it, no matter how breathtaking you look when you have it loose.” Logan teased her. Amaia nodded wordlessly, reached up with her dagger, grasped her long hair as if she was about to tie it into a ponytail, and cut it off without a second’s thought. Logan gaped at her and she grimaced, but was pleased at the fact that her hair stayed out of her face.

“You- you- just cut off…” Logan stuttered, but Amaia ignored him and charged the monster again. His back was turned to her, preoccupied with Kace and Griffin’s blows and arrows. A perfect chance, she thought, but something was telling her to not attack. She ignored it.

Amaia drew back her dagger and went in for the death blow, the spot behind the neck. She had been taught about it, everyone was taught about it, if they were a Hunter. She had stabbed straw dummies with practice daggers, and saw an experienced Hunter demonstrate the blow in front of two men and a woman she never learned the name of. She could do this.

The monster turned his head sharply just before she struck, eyes wide, and Kace took the opportunity to slash him from shoulder to abdomen. He didn’t seem to care for the moment, and instead, using his claws, batted Amaia’s dagger out of her hands and with his other hand, grasped her throat. He lifted her up from the ground, growling furiously right into her face.

“Didn’t your mother teach you any manners?” he snarled. Kace paused behind him with the katana raised, unsure. Amaia choked, clawing at the monster’s hands in vain. Terror overcame her and desperate tears started to form in her eyes.

“Let her go!” Logan raged somewhere behind her. She could see Griffin notch an arrow to his bow with trembling hands, his eyes wide with fear. The two men had always been kind to her, taught her most of the things she knew, were her friends, best friends despite age…

Her vision was getting hazier and black spots danced in her eyes. The monster smiled at her gently and raised her higher. Her feet flailed around in the air helplessly.

“Don’t move if you want her to live, please.” he purred, and nonchalantly looked down at the wounds on his torso which were bleeding profusely. He looked up and gleefully watched the young Hunter trying to pry his hands off of her neck. Kace held up a hand that wasn’t holding the katana in the universal peace-just-for-now sign.

“Put down your damn bow.” The monster ordered, jerking his chin at Griffin’s direction, who reluctantly bent down to put his loaded bow on the floor. The monster nodded in satisfaction. Amaia started to gasp and go limp in his hand.

“Good,” he whispered, “but you two just moved.”

The remaining Hunters blinked. Amaia’s eyes rolled back in her head, and the monster grinned cheekily as he cocked his head to study her bruising skin.