CHAPTER FOUR.

(The Story Really Gets Going.)


The creature visited him again on the second night he was there, looming over him as he slept. The sudden chill woke him, and he panicked, falling off the bench and his heart raced as he scrabbled to hold the golden coin to his eye to see his demise. It was undignified.

They stood over him torn between fascination and horror at him. They didn't know how to deal with this, but seemed to like that someone could see and hear it. Soul got the sudden feeling they would've killed him already if they had wanted to. He didn't particularly enjoy the feeling but it wasbetter than the feeling of great peril he had felt the previous night.

Which was great for them and all, but Soul was still on the town's unofficial Death Row.

Soul didn't know what to say to them, so he didn't say anything much at all to begin with. He just listened, and that thing, they did yammer to fill the lulls in conversation. They were not the greatest conversation partner one could hope for, but Soul supposed they were better than nothing.

"Mother was so very angry."

"I know what's that like, believe me, " Soul shuddered at the memory of shrieking, white hot anger, tempered only by a bottle of red wine and a mournful tune played by her steadfast son. No, not him, the other one.

"Frightfully angry," they paused to collect their thoughts."She doesn't know I'm here."

"I won't tell her."

"She thought I should've taken your soul anyway," they said quietly, as though it were ashamed to admit it. "She didn't think I should've let you get away."

"It wouldn't have done you any good," Soul tried to reassure the creature. "My soul is still in my chest, but it belongs to someone else."

"Try telling Mother that."

If Soul was a gambling man, he'd have put good money down that the high, creaking noise that followed was laughter.


Unfortunately for Soul, his second day spent behind bars was not nearly so pleasant as the first. This was largely due to the fact the both Sheriff Albarn and Miss Albarn decided to call upon him at the same time, and spent the entire time of their visit arguing with each other while Soul very much endeavoured to seem as small and unobtrusive as possible.

"Maka!" Sheriff Albarn roared. The bars shook, and Soul wondered if it wasn't easier to escape than he'd first thought. "What are you doing here!?"

"I've come to visit my friend," Maka said, and smiled quickly as Soul who looked over his shoulder in the vain hopes she would pretend she was here to see someone else. "He's been wrongfully imprisoned by some ne'er-do-well impersonating a Sheriff."

Sheriff Albarn spluttered incoherently, and Soul had to stop himself from laughing at his expression - it would not do well, as a man in the jailhouse, to antagonise the jailer.

"Your friend -" Sheriff Albarn gestured in through the bars of the cell at Soul, who ducked out of the way. "- is a coldhearted killer!"

Untrue, but Soul had no way of proving that.

"And he scratched up my nice floor!"

Again, untrue, and Soul could prove that at least, although he figured it was better to be quiet than draw anymore attention to himself.

"You can't prove that!"

"Who else was it then!?"

Just, you know, a demon creature that came to murder him in the night and steal his soul only to find that his soul was already under contract to another demon. If Soul had to bet on which he thought would win in a fight, he'd pick the one who came a calling last night. The demon to whom he owed a significant debt had been well spoken and finely dressed, with eyes that burned like coal embers in his sockets, charring the flesh around them. Despite that, he was fine boned and thin, constantly wiping his hands on his spotless handkerchief to clean them after he touched anything.

You never could tell with demons though.

"Well, it wasn't Mr. Eater!" Miss Albarn insisted. "I can tell. Oh, by the way, Mr. Eater, Falada positively wolfed down the oats with the beer poured over -"

"That's what you took my Westvleteren for!" The Sheriff was quaking, and Soul winced in sympathy. "For some demonic horse!?"

Soul was torn between his impulse to defend Falada and his self preservation instinct.

Self preservation won out - Falada could look after herself and the beer was already gone.


On the third night, Soul had grown accustomed to the presence of the creature. It arrived like it had the previous night - suddenly and with no respect for a man who might like to spend his nights asleep, as many a man did. It startled him once again, but not so badly as to make him fall out off of his bench this time.

"Jesus!" Soul swore. He stretched and yawned widely before looking through the coin to see them. "Warn a fella, will ya?"

"Sorry, I'm so sorry, please I'm- " the creature flinched away, pitiful and fearful.

"No, no," Soul said, soothingly, his hands raised. "Don't you get into a knot over it, you startled me is all."

They nodded, and perked up a little when Soul smiled, his sharp teeth delighting the creature.

They really did seem to be growing fond of him, or at least hungry for some manner of attention. They could be quite childlike at times, sitting obediently and babbling, or they could be anxious, riddled with nervous energy and shuddering and shaking whenever Soul broached a topic with which the creature was unfamiliar, or upon which it felt it should not speak.

"My blood is black."

"Right, you said that already."

"Wanna see?"

"No! Why would I want to see-"

They lifted their heavy blade like it was almost nothing, and slashed quickly across their opposite hand. The blood that leaked out, heavy and vicious like tar was so black as to appear non-existant, a flat plane like someone had carved a hole out of the universe.

"Holy - "

"I can make it dance," they said, and the blood moved, undulating unnaturally and forming sharp peaks suddenly before moving in gentle waves again. They turned their head thoughtfully, and the blood splattered to the ground as they lost concentration, focused on some new idea. "What colour is your blood?"

"It's red," Soul said promptly.

"May I see?"

"Maybe some other time," Soul tried not to look too nervous when he folded his arms, tucking his hands into his armpits, out of reach. Of course, the creature could take them if they wanted - like most things, they were a good deal stronger than Soul was and he could not forget whatever magic had made him move when he had not wished to.

Soul and the creature talked for a long time, about a lot of things. The creature stayed until the dawn light broke through the window, and then it left Soul alone again. He slept in as late as he could, and when he woke, he realised something.

They spoke only in the high thin voice the whole night and the deeper gravellier voice made no appearance. Soul made the decision not to think about that too much.


Soul had been in jail longer than he liked, and was more than eager for someone, ideally Miss Albarn, to prove his innocence. To be fair, it was his humble opinion that one day in jail was one day too many to be spending in jail. The longer he was in here, and longer his Visitor went without murdering anyone, the less chance he had of getting out of this alive.

And his chances were already pretty slim to begin with.

He really should stop hoping that someone died to prove his innocence - that was the sort of thing that had a tendency to backfire spectacularly. He was whistling, trying to conjure a tune from thin air, his hand dancing over a piano that was not really there.

He was so wrapped up in the song only he could hear the true sound of that he did not hear the great commotion - and by the Lord's above, it was great, yelling and gunfire and the bellow of beasts - outside until Miss Albarn came sprinting into the jailhouse. She ran past him to the desk, pulling open drawers and piling loose bullets and scraps of paper onto the tabletop.

"Miss Albarn!" His hands dropped through the imaginary piano, and the cell was flooded with noise from outside. How had he possibly missed it before now? It was deafening.

"There you are!" Miss Albarn said to herself, her father's keys rattling in her hand. She looked thoughtfully back at the upheaval of her father's meticulous filing system and reached over, grabbing a large handful of the loose bullets and wrapping them in a handkerchief before depositing them into her pocket.

"Miss Albarn," Soul repeated, thoroughly confused by the whole situation and not sensing an explanation forthcoming. "What in the devil is going on?"

She barked out a short laugh.

"Miss Albarn?"

"Oh for heaven's sake," Miss Albarn muttered, flipping through the selection of keys hurriedly. "Call me Maka - I think breaking you out of jail might put us on a first name basis."

"Breaking me out of - Miss Albarn - "

"Maka," she corrected, easily, trying a key and cursing when it stuck in the lock. She battled with it for a moment before pulling it free and trying a second key.

"Maka," he conceded, he liked the sound of it in his mouth "Maka, what on earth is happening? Why are you breaking me out? Did he get the warrant to kill me?"

She fumbled with the lock, and Soul hear a click, audible even with all the noise.

"What?" Maka siad, hauling the door open. "No, no, you're free to go."

"Really?"

"No, not really, but someone else did just admit murdering everyone and we are in desperate need of your unique skills at this minute," She motioned for him to leave the cell. "Hurry up, we haven't got all day."

"How did you -"

"This is Death, Soul, trust me when I tell you that you are the tip of the iceberg," She reached in and grabbed his arm in a very familiar way, dragging him out of the confines of the cell. Soul shook himself out of her grasp.

"Maka, what on Earth is going on?"

"Just - we need to get Falada," she said. "Oh no."

The town was deadly silent, all noise from before was gone.

She left the keys in the lock.


The Jailhouse was not very far from where Falada was stabled, but the journey had never looked like this before. The Main Street was pocked with craters, starbursts of black ash marring the road. The store fronts where freckled with bullet holes and there was a horse dead in the street.

Figured that everything would have happened while he was in jail.

Liz was laid behind the dead horse, bracing a rifle across its belly. Her sharp eyes were scanning the road, and Soul could feel the hairs raise on the back of his neck when she locked eyes with him and nodded. Her fashionable - or as fashionable as it got out here, several years behind the fashions of the East coast - her scarlet dress was fanned out, a dangerously bright streak of colour in an otherwise bleak view.

"Go," Maka said quietly, "Liz'n'Patti'll cover us."

"Patti?"

As if she could hear him, Patti drew his attention by waving a silk ribbon - a deep blue one, one of her very favourites. She was perched like a bird on the rooftop of the saloon, her keen eye watching over everything she saw. He hoped she was as good a shot as her grimly focused sister, but her joyful expression made him doubt it. Still, hesupposed it was better than nothing.

The fight, or whatever it was had stilled for now, but Soul anticipated that it would start again soon. There was no sense in not being cautious.

Soul and Maka moved along the street, sticking closely to the walls of the buildings until they drew level with the saloon, before darting across the wide empty street to the swinging doors.

The three old crones were moved, Soul guessed somewhat reluctantly from the tabletop to the floor, playing their interminable card game on the floor out of view of the the windows.

"Thanks for the coin," Soul said. "Came in real useful."

As if on cue, all three of them looked up at him, and said in unison, almost in one voice.

"It was a gift, and we do not give useless gifts."

He nodded, and glanced down at the card game.

"Na is cheating, by the way."

Ma and Ta both turned to look at their sister, who shrieked in protest.

"Soul, come on, we don't have time - "

Patti appeared at the top of the stairs, replesendant in her finest dress. She spun to show it off, delighted to be seen it in, despite the dust that was already coating it. Her rifle was slung over her shoulder, and her favourite blue ribbon was wrapped around her hand and wrist.

This was a weird day, and Soul had had some memorable ones in his time. Maka reached into her pocket and pulled out the fistful of bullets, tossing the bundle to Patti who caught it with ease and laughed when she felt the contents.

"Miss Maka!" She said. "You're far too good to me!"

"Keep up the good work, Patti," Soul said, at a loss for anything else to say.

"We need to go," Maka said, tugging on his arm.

"Right, see you Patti," Soul followed Maka out, looking over his shoulder and frowning as Patti saluted him. That was decidedly odd.

Soul rushed to meet Falada, who was straining that the rope someone had used to tie her to an iron hook in the wall.

"Hey girl," he said quietly. "I missed you."

Falada pulled at the rope, rubbing her nose all over Soul's face and hair. It seemed as though she had missed him too.

"Heard you gave Miss Albarn awful trouble."

Falada whinnied as if to refute this slander of her character. Soul moved quickly to untie the rope, but Falada was much more at ease now that he was in her field of vision. Maka smiled at Falada from a comfortable distance and the horse snorted at her.

It was a step up from trying to eat her.

"Alright, Maka," Soul said, saddling up Falada and inspecting her for any harm that may have come to her in the three days since he had last laid eyes on her. There was none, for which Sheriff Albarn better be grateful otherwise he had been in a whole lot of trouble. "What's next?"

"What do you mean what's next?" Maka said, "Ride in on your demonic horse and vanquish the villain."

"What?" Soul said, dropping the reins in surprise. "How do you propose I do that?"

"I don't know," Maka said. "You're the one with all the… you know... " she gestured vaguely while she searched for the word, "Gifts."

"Gifts?"

"Well," she said, holding the door open so that he could lead Falada outside. "You know, you have the coins and the horse and something really weird about your soul."

"I sold it."

"You sold it!?"

"Traded, really," he tried to explain, although it was not a very good explanation. "So I could play the piano."

"You… you traded your soul," Maka said slowly. "To play the piano."

"I'm really good at the piano, Maka."

"Okay, well what about the coins?" She said, changing the subject quickly.

"Well, this one was from Ta, and it allows me to see the demon creature that killed everyone," Soul held up the old gold coin to his eye, looking at her though it. "They've been coming to visit me in jail. Tried to murder me."

Maka sort of shimmered through the lens of the coin, as if there was a light inside her that shone outwards. He couldn't read her expression through all the light. She was hard to look at, so he dropped the coin. It clinked against the others when it fell.

"And the other ones?"

"Those just look cool," Soul said, tugging on the cord so they jingled.

"Falada!?"

"She's just a horse," Soul said, shrugging. "I don't know what to tell you."

"But who else - it has to be you," Maka said, tugging at the ends of her hair. "Who else could it be? Who else is going to save us?"

"Can't it be you?"

"Nice try, but that's not how these things work," Maka huffed. "I see the truth of things, people like me normally just, you know, get our warnings ignored while everyone dies."

Soul mounted Falada, swinging his leg over the saddle easily. He held out his hand to Maka.

"Get on the horse."


I appreciate any feedback I can get, as I was trying something new with this fic.